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Collection of Overlords _ Part 12 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 (here)

Call you cruel, call you sadistic, call you evil, call you a tease. You are, after all, The Cursed Entity, the symbol of all things demonic. As much as you may appear to be harmless and passive, it was all a facade for souls to let down their guard like how a hunter would pounce on an unsuspecting prey

Overlords are unique Sinners, set apart from the other doomed souls that arrive in Hell after their timely or untimely death on Earth. A Sinner’s power stem from a few things or circumstances

It could be something related to their career when living, like a gravedigger would control soil or bones. It could be something related to an element they love or hate, like a person who loves the sea would have control over water. It could also be something related to their biggest crime or sin, like a thief would have telekinese

The possibility was endless and hard to tell. But one’s appearance was a tell-tale sign, a window to what kind of person or demon they are. Take Zestial as an example, cloaked from head to toe, there was seemingly nothing that could hint at what kind of demon he was, but it’s exactly that that tells you he’s a mysterious being and reserved, not prone to action and would weight his options

Another example. Velvette. Her appearance always changes, from hair style to her clothing, she was one of the rarer demons that would do that. Like her ever-changing appearance, her base, meaning her body, never changes. It shows that she changes her surroundings to make herself fit in rather than herself. Her core self is stable and knows what to do to make herself station

Your Overlord picks were something you’ve observed from the biggest hints to the littlest, you never really needed to see their past life during their living years when you knew what made a Sinner a Sinner

Steadily, you moved the original Hellborns living in Pride to other Rings and gave Lucifer and Lilith dominion over that Ring so there won’t be as much conflict. But because you knew there was a different between the Sinners, you also knew they aren’t prone to follow orders. You gave a test to Sinners when more and more arrived

Different from Hellborns, Sinners will have the unique and universal power to make and enter deals of their own kind. Sinners that enter into the deal will be making their own terms and agreements without a third party unless they are to be involved and consented

When such a power was revealed, the stronger Sinners got to work, using their overwhelming power to crush weaker Sinner into their submission. This process helped you differentiate the plain Sinner from potential Overlord candidates when you were still on the fence with the whole new ranking system

It was after letting Lucifer and Lilith know about the whole Overlord project did you start to look for some Overlords to take under your wing. As exciting as it sounds, it was one headache after another, you lost count of the would-be Overlords you shoved into your Cages

Until Zestial came along and wanted to be at your services. A demon of knowledge and elegance was your first impression of him. He wasn’t ashamed to be under someone, rather he saw it as an honour to be under someone as great and cruel as you. Quite the flatterer, not that it displeases you

You have to give credit where it’s due since Zestial had a big hand in your Overlord project early days. It was him who recommended Carmilla and informed you of Rosie, two more obedient and favourable Overlord candidates you quickly took a liking too

Then came Zeezi, a formidable Sinner of violence and strength, displayed in her appearance and actions. Through her, you saw the joy in beating a Sinner into your ideal Overlord. It was the success of it all that made you continue this routine, but there were also times when you got bored and didn’t mold your new Overlords into space which resulted in their expulsion

“Husk is no longer fit to be among the ranks of Overlord.” You announced to the others while atop your throne with the others seated around you at the table. You played with the pendant that was Husk’s in your fingers before black flames burned it and you threw it into the air, your Cages all fought to devour it. “Do as you see fit.”

Now how should you deal with Vox?

Velvette was smart and keen enough to at least look for help among your favoured Overlords, but Vox… Vox was so smart that he went to Princess of Hell. Truly smart beyond words. It’s moment like these that you question why and how he got Alastor to see him as a good enough candidate for you to consider

Honestly… How talented was Vox that he got Alastor’s attention and praise?

It irked you how Vox held Alastor’s attention for that long to the point you wanted to crush him immediately the moment you offered him a place. However, as one could plainly see now, you never did

The question you have now was how to make use of Vox. Should you revive him like you have done with Velvette or discard him like the trash he is?

Choking and cricket noises pulled you out of your thoughts as you looked forward at Vox in a sorry state. Zestial being indifferent to the entire situation, well, deep down he was entertained, you’re sure. Great minds think alike after all. You snapped your fingers and released him from your subconscious torture. This is what happens when you get too immersed in your thoughts

“I’ll be frank.” You spoke, uncaring of how Vox was still self-repairing from his ordeal. “Your little group is down a member, said member is building her own forces to lead and I gave her full support.” Your eyes opened as you glared down at him, “So don’t go pestering my new star.”

Vox felt the pressure from your words, his TV screen of a head bowing, “O- Of course…”

You hummed, your eyes closed again making the intention in the air return normal. “Alright, you can go now. Zestial will see you out since this is your firs time at the hotel.”

Just as Zestial was making his way to Vox, he panicked and hastily questioned, “Wait! What’s going to happen? Velvette’s gone, we aren’t the Vees. Is Valentino and I going to…?”

“I wonder.” You can’t help but play around with your words, a smirk form while you taunted, “Guess it’ll be the 2Vs now.” At Vox’s silence, you decided to offer some form of mercy. With a glitch in your form, you suddenly appeared before Vox’s face, your form towering over his. “Tell me honestly, can you even afford to worry for others when your place within my collection is like a sand castle at the beach?” Your head tilted, “Oh so close to the waved of the ocean, ready to be. Washed. Away. Into. Nothingness.”

Vox’s knees gave out as he buckled down, “I… I…”

You scoffed, turning away to return to your seat, “Broken items are thrown away, Vox, no one wants to keep something that lost its value.” Your fingers snapped, eight cards flew around around, “You have been keen on keeping information to yourself, especially against Velvette and Valentino, it shows your superiority towards them.” Two cards burned to nothing while one card flew to remain hovering in front of Vox, the rest remained by your side. “But you’ve forgotten as an Overlord, who you’re supposed to show your talents and skill to.”

The card in front of Vox burned to nothing, now he was able to view your indifferent expression and Zestial standing faithfully by your side with his cheshire grin. His claws balled into fists, his digital jaw clenched, and his form shook. “So I don’t qualify as an Overlord…” A twisted smile spread on his face, “Ha… Haha… Hahahhahahahahhahahaahahahaaa! Ha! Hahahahaha!!”

Zestial glared over to you while you turned your head to his direction as if sharing a glance. When a grin grew on your face, Zestial bowed formally and dramatically. “Giveth me some timeth, mine own liege (Give me some time, My Liege.)”

Within your room of souls, both loud and silent cries and pleads did nothing to earn your attention. Cages flew from one area to another, devouring and festing on bodies of defiant subjects that shown you disrespect. All while you sat behind your desk in your throne, a quill pen in your hand to scribble over cards of different colours, but all share the singular pattern and symbol 

The moment you were done, a murder of Cages flew to your side and you attached each with a card put into an envelope. You patted their heads with a command to delivery your words to their target. With their orders received they flapped their wings and flew up until they were gone from sight

You strolled and made your way to your round tables, stopping by at the one for Pride Ring. A satisfied smile graced your face. Familiar patches of colours covering all of territories. Your Overlords have completed their work and the time has come for the grandest of events

“The time has come!”

“The time has come!”

“It’s here!”

Your commanded Cages all found their targets and cried out to announce their presence. Then your intended receivers all realized what they were given and the weight of it all

Rosie didn’t need to open the window as a Cage flew through it and hovered in front of her with its wings flawing to remain in the air. Rosie reached out both of her hands to receive the envelope with pride and a wide smile

Zeezi flinched at the sudden appearance of the Cage, quickly composing herself before she took the envelope to see what was inside. Her eyes narrowed at the words written, she quickly pocketed it and started to bark orders to her followers to prepare

Carmilla, Zestial, and Vox all paused in their activity as three Cages came to them, each having one flying in front of them with a visible envelope of acception. Vox gulped as he glanced to his two seniors who nodded and he took his with a bow at the Cage that was delivering on your behalf. Zestial and Carmilla received theirs without issues, but both shared a look of acknowledgement 

Velvette halted the rehearsal when a Cage appeared by her side. She took the envelope carefully as if it was made of glass and read through the contents. Her eyes widened as she couldn’t believe her eyes, she immediately got up and cancelled everything in her schedule. Priorities 

Alastor placed his tea cup down, his eyes lit up with interest at the sight of a Cage perched on his shoulder. He scratched its feathers with a claw while retrieving the envelope, he opened it with a claw and read through the card. He hummed and looked over to where Husk was, seeing a familiar scene of a Cage handing Husk an envelope as well

Husk punched away an overbearing tailor, his scowl ceased when the familiar creature whom he recalled as a ‘Cage’ flew to him and show him an envelope of high quality. A chill run down his spine as he figured the time has come, he read through the card and gulped, it really has come. He turned his head to Alastor who’s smile widened

Valentino threw another glass at the wall, creating another mess inside the room. His screams and roars going unheard and uncared for, evident of the destruction within the room and the unkept appearance of the moth demon. The Cage avoided another thrown object, letting go of the envelope so that he splatted on his face, he growled and snatched it open. His eyes narrowed and blinked. Great. Another meeting

Note: This series is coming to an end~~ Soon, I think a few more parts then an epilogue. Thanks for people that's still keeping up with this series! It's not going to be dropped! Promise!! Anyways, your thoughts on this one?

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

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BTS: In the Secret (Idol! Jungkook x Reader) [Intro + Chapter 1]

Summary: Big Hit announces a new season of In the Soop with a twist; one lucky Army is going to join the members for an entire summer of filming, picked by a random poll. You were selected, and ready to have an amazing summer. But what happens when you win something else that's a bit more complicated; the heart of the group's maknae?

Rating: M (18+)

Chapter Warnings: None. Story Masterlist

Dear ARMY,

Congratulations! You’ve been selected to join BTS for the filming of their new, upcoming season of BTS: In the Soop. On behalf of the Big Hit staff, and the members of BTS, we are excited to have you join us this summer! Thank you for your patience as we went through our fan selection poll.

This summer will include games, cooking, and relaxation.An outdoor pool, fully renovated accommodations, gaming room, gym, volleyball and basketball courts will be provided. Your room will be of your choosing in one of the homes on the property, which you will organize with the members. While In the Soop is usually filmed for only a week, this season will be filmed over the duration of the summer, from June 1st until September 1st. To thank you for your time, you will be compensated.

All other details about packing, travel, contacts and more will be included in the other attached documents. We look forward to meeting you this summer, and please be on the watch for contact from the Big Hit staff regarding times and locations.

Thank you,

Big Hit/HYBE

The soft, warm breeze rustled the green leaves as you unpacked your items from the back of the car. After a car ride that was seemingly never ending, you finally arrived on the property and the Big Hit staff were kind in telling you that the members of BTS weren’t far behind, set to arrive soon.

The realization hit you, while standing on the porch next to the pool, that this was your home for the summer. The property was beautiful, and exactly as relaxing as the staff had promised it would be. You giggled to yourself, wondering just how relaxing the summer will actually be once the boys got here. Thinking of all the things you could do together, you grew more excited and even more restless for their arrival.

To kill the time, you decided to explore the main house, leaving your unpacked bags by the front door. You peeked around the kitchen, looking over the fully stocked cabinets and refrigerator. You laughed to yourself as you took note of the secretively stashed alcohol collection, and wondered which member requested a hibernation’s worth of wine and whiskey stockpile.

Afterwards, you went upstairs to look through the book titles, undoubtedly a Kim Namjoon request. Then you made your way back downstairs, into the living room, where you sat on the couch and looked at what games and consoles were available. Your thoughts immediately went to playing games on rainy days, and how funny it would be to actually win against any of them. You grew more and more impatient, anxiously waiting to meet them when the sound of a car door shut outside, followed by a myriad of excitable men’s voices. One in particular stood above the rest to ask,

“She’s already here, right? In the main house?”

You stood up to greet the boys at the door, when you were greeted by an overgrown pup looking up at you with a wagging tail and raised ears.

“Hi, baby!” You giggled, recognizing Bam. Your higher, baby voice used to talk to the puppy made him very happy, earning you a playful, downward pose. “You’re so cute!”

This sparked a big jump from the puppy, knocking you down instantly. You laughed as Bam attacked your face frenziedly, seemingly trying to get as many kisses in before he would inevitably be moved.

“Jungkook-ssi!” Jimin shouted, giggling at the sight. “Bam already found a new friend!”

The members all looked up at the main house to see Bam’s tail wagging, but blocking your face. They collectively ran up to greet you, just as excited as the pup. Jungkook’s ears were red with embarrassment while he ran to collect his dog from you.

“Jungkook, you need to get your dog.” Namjoon chuckled, watching the youngest member grab Bam and move him off of you. Namjoon then reached over to grab your hand, helping you up.

“I’m sorry about that.” Namjoon said, shaking his head and blushing at the overwhelming greeting. “I’m Kim Namjoon.”

“It’s ok! I definitely didn’t mind, he’s so cute.” You laughed before giving Namjoon a quick thank you for helping you up. “I’m Y/N.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon said warmly. “When the staff told us about this, we got really excited. Thank you for being here.”

“Of course. I’m excited, too.” You admitted, earning a Namjoon smile and exposed dimples.

“Let me introduce everyone.” Namjoon said, going member to member before landing with on the maknae, who had finally gotten Bam to settle. “And this is Jungkook.”

Jungkook looked at you properly for the first time since arriving, and his eyes somehow grew even bigger. He stood and mumbled a quick hi before taking a quick bow and rising to meet your face again. Jungkook felt something in his chest, as though a weight he didn’t know he was carrying had been lifted, making him feel lighter. He hadn’t expected you to be…

“… So pretty.” He whispered to himself, but the other members heard. You blushed profusely, feeling your face heat up under the gaze of the maknae and the others. Jungkook’s eyes flashed with panic, clearly showing he had unintentionally said that out loud.

“Great. We’ve been here 10 minutes and we’ve already scared her.” Yoongi joked, shaking his head with a smirk at the clearly fumbling maknae. “Can we decide on bedrooms, so she knows where to hide from us?”

Everyone decided to sit in the living room together, to decide over who sleeps in which building. You sat on the couch between Hoseok and Jimin, and you couldn’t help but compliment Hobi’s nail art. He smiled wide and showed you the design on his thumb, and you took a closer look at the work. While you were talking, Jungkook sat in the chair on the opposite side, trying to play off stealing glances of you. He felt as though he had the wind knocked out of his lungs in the best possibly way, and struggled to compare it to anything he’d experienced before.

“Y/N, are you a night owl or a morning person?” Namjoon asked, going over the rooms with Yoongi.

“I’m definitely more of a night owl.” You nodded. “But I can do mornings, too. I’m flexible.”

“How do you feel about sharing a guest house with Jimin and Jungkook?” Yoongi asked, looking around at the room. “They might be the best options.”

“That’s fine with me!” You responded, looking over at Jimin who was giving you a crescent moon smile.

Jimin walked next to you to your guest house, as Jungkook and Bam followed closely behind. You settled into your rooms, and Jungkook made sure to snatch the room closest to yours, brushing off a look from Jimin. (“I… I just like this one.”)

Soon, it was dinner time. Yoongi had made a delicious spread of food, and poured wine from the “hibernation stash”, chuckling at your name for it. You sat with all the members around the table, eating and drinking. Sitting between Jin and Namjoon, you were lost in a silly conversation.

“So, you wanted to be a dancer?” Yoongi pried gently, pouring more wine for himself. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? Money.” You laughed softly to yourself. “It didn’t seem like it was going to work for me, and I got to the point where I just wanted to make a life for myself. So I went to university instead, and started working.”

“It’s not too late to try again.” Jimin encouraged. “It’s not like you’re ‘too old’, you’re a year younger than Jungkookie.”

You smiled, shrugged and just responded with a gentle, “Maybe one day.”

Hoseok, who usually would be tuned into a conversation revolving around dance, was too focused on watching the maknae. Hobi knew Jungkook like the back of his hand, having been around the youngest member for many years. He couldn’t think of a time when he had seen that expression on the member’s face. Jungkook’s eyes were soft as he listened, seemingly hanging onto every word you said as though memorizing the details you shared about yourself. His lips were slightly turned upwards as you spoke, warmly encouraging you to continue.

“Hey.” Hoseok called for Jungkook after dinner, motioning the maknae to follow him to the porch by the pool where they can be alone.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder to you in the kitchen, helping to clean up the mess despite the members telling you it wasn’t necessary. He then walked over to Hobi, leaving everyone else inside.

“What’s up?” Jungkook asked with a sense of casualness that could’ve made Hobi laugh.

“Aish, Jungkook-ssi.” Hobi shook his head with a big smile. “You were so cute in there, are you going to talk to her?”

“What?” Jungkook asked, his voice a bit panicked, as though he were a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“Y/N. You like her, I can tell.” Hobi giggled, making Jungkook look away. “It’s so obvious. But listen, don’t come on too strong and try to rush it. You have the whole summer.”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jungkook responded, his cheeks heating up. Hobi rolled his eyes playfully as the maknae scurried off back into the kitchen to help finish the last bit of cleaning, and not-so-subtly stay nearby you.

New Chapter: x

The Great Game (III)

Part 21 of The Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221B Baker Street

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Previous | Next

Word Count: ~10.8k

Author's Note: Tensions rise, and the threat of M continues to loom over their heads. When pulled too tight, things are bound to break.

It's almost the end. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I finished it around midnight, so forgive any typos and whatnot. Without further ado, I present the second-to-last chapter of Arbitrary Lives.

Warnings: Supreme angst, canon typical violence, Sherlock is Sherlock (but in the worst way), mentions of death, character death, mentions of gore, firearms, language, yandere relation themes, drugging (Let me know if I missed anything)

Case after case was how it seemed to go when Sherlock, John, and Y/N were racing against the mysterious M. Every time Sherlock would solve a puzzle given to him, the pink phone would ring moments later, presenting a new one. With each chime of the telephone, Y/N found herself getting more and more anxious. M was bigger than anything they'd ever seen; worst of all, they had no clue who they were. M seemed to operate from afar, offering their advice on cases of the illegal type, allowing M the anonymity to be anyone and be anywhere. For all Y/N knew, M could be some sick person stuck in their parent's basement on the other side of the world. Even so, M seemed one step ahead and knew every step they had taken. 

Sitting upon a plush, gray, white striped couch beneath her served more comfort than she'd like to admit. Sherlock had sent her and John on another goose chase after, yet again, another call from their tormentor. While Y/N was lost in thought, petting the hairless cat on her lap, John took the lead in questioning Kenny, the brother of Connie Prince. 

The two had done as much research as they could, which turned out to be a few newspaper articles, the bizarre gossip and facts they had gathered from Mrs. Hudson, and, of course, the Wikipedia pages on Connie. Once they put all their research together, they discovered they found a plethora of ways to tell which colors suited oneself and which ones brought out the sick in one's skin tone, but not much about Connie and her brother. 

A loud and content purr vibrated from the naked cat as Y/N's hands caressed its head and neck. Upon hearing the meow, John raised his brow, trying to hide his concern. The creature sitting on Y/N's lap was not a cat. John had seen Bjørn, and Bjørn was a cat. Y/N's pet had fur and a bush-brown tail. If anything, the Prince's cat was an abomination in his mind. 

"We're devastated," Kenny Prince sighed as he carefully placed his arm on the mantle behind him, leaning ever so slightly. As John withdrew his eyes from the fur-less animal, he found his brows pinching together as Kenny Price posed. "Of course we are." Kenny waved his hand and dramatically looked to the side with a somber expression. 

To say the least, John was confused. First, there was the cat. He didn't want to give that thing another thought. Secondly was Kenny's posing. Why was Kenny posing unless he was trying to...His finger brushed against something hard, and John scolded himself. The camera. They had brought a camera. Y/N had proposed they be reporters to gain an interview with Kenny. John would be the reporter and Y/N the photographer. Kenny was posing for candid photos for their article. 

"Can I get you anything, sir?" a voice spoke from behind John. It was Raoul, Kenny's staff member.

He whirled around and replied, shaking his head. "Er, no. No, thanks."

"And what about you, miss?" Raoul asked Y/N, who absently shook her head. Her fingers were still petting the cat. 

"Raoul is my rock," Kenny admitted, still holding his position. "I don't think I could have managed. We didn't always see eye to eye, but my sister was very dear to me."

A light pressure pushed down on John's thighs. Glancing down, he noticed the cat was no longer on Y/N's lap but his. A wave of disgust trembled through his body. With stiff fingers, he picked it up and dropped it on the other side of the couch where Y/N sat. The cat meowed in discontent, stepping back over to John. John shivered at the cat's relentless attempts and held out his arm as a barrier. 

"And–," John said, trying to continue Kenny's conversation and retain the purity of his own lap as it was reserved for Bjørn. "-and to the public, Mr. Prince."

"Oh, she was adored. I've seen her take girls who looked like the back end of Routemasters and turn them into princesses," Kenny continued. Meanwhile, his cat pounced over John's barrier and clung onto his lap. With a wince, John placed a hand on the cat's back. It happily purred.  "Still, it's a relief in a way to know that she's beyond this veil of tears."

"Absolutely," John muttered, hiding his grimace. He flashed Y/N a look, but she found gazing at Kenny Prince's coffee table intriguing. He frowned as concern for his friend bubbled to the surface. He could only imagine how exhausted she was. Not just physically from all the running around they have been doing lately but also as exhaustion of the emotional sort. John was not blind to Sherlock's actions, and it didn't take a fool to see that Sherlock was cold. His mind was solely occupied with M and the puzzles that he was given, which meant he didn't have much concern for others. It was not that he usually did, but with Y/N, it was different. She meant something to Sherlock.

John opened his mouth to whisper something to Y/N when he noticed Kenny's voice was absent. Right, John corrected himself. He was here about the case. The sooner he was done with this, the faster he could help both of his friends. 

"It's more common than people think," John began. "The tetanus is in the soil, people cut themselves on rose bushes, garden forks, that sort of thing. If left un...,"  Kenny Prince plopped down between Y/N and John. The sudden jolt of the couch awoke Y/N from her daze. Her shoulder was pressed tightly against Kenny's as he leaned into John, invading his space even more than hers. "...treated..." John finished, scooting as far away from Kenny as he could. 

"I don't know what I'm going to do now," Kenny confessed, leaning even closer to John. 

"Right," John said, biting the inside of his cheek. He peered over Kenny's shoulder and saw Y/N. They shared a look that screamed discomfort, but they could do nothing as Kenny pushed them into the sides of the sofa. As Kenny continued speaking, John and Y/N's eyes held a secret conversation, mainly curses and discontent with the situation. 

"I mean, she's left me this place, which is lovely....," Kenny's voice trailed off as his eyes never left John. "...but it's not the same without her." 

Before replying, John took a deep breath and stared down at his notes. "Th-that's why my paper wanted to get the, um, the full story straight from the horse's mouth. You sure it's not too soon?"

"No," Kenny said.  

"Right," John gulped. 

"You fire away," Kenny uttered. His longing gaze not once left John. The longer the conversation continued, the more uncomfortable Y/N felt; she could only imagine how John felt. Here was Kenny Prince, after his sister's death, flirting with John. Y/N observed Kenny staring at John, making her feel like a forgotten third wheel to a nonconsensual flirting session. She had to come to his rescue. She'd done it before with lots of her friends back home. It would be easy, so long as she could get off the couch, which's cushions were sucking her in deeper. 

Before John could ask any of his questions and Y/N could rescue him from unwanted attention, a buzzing echoed from her back pocket. Kenny turned over his shoulder to look at her as if she had interrupted a vital moment. She smiled awkwardly, shoved herself off the sofa, and answered her phone. 

"Y/N," Sherlock's voice rang over the phone.

"You know, one usually starts a call with hello," Y/N muttered. 

"Right, hello," Sherlock's voice oozed with sarcasm. 

Sherlock didn't speak for a moment. Y/N furrowed her brows. "Is there a reason you called Sherlock?"

On the other end, Sherlock struggled to find a response. He had practiced his excuse beforehand. Well, it wasn't much of an excuse, more of a warning. Even so, after hearing her voice, Sherlock had forgotten everything. He mentally reprimanded himself for falling back into his sentiment so quickly. Y/N needed to be safe, so he had to push her away. A task that only seemed to grow more impossible with each breath she took. 

John's eyes widened upon hearing Sherlock's name, and his escape was revealed to him. Shooting out of his seat, he snatched the phone from Y/N, quickly apologized, and began speaking to Sherlock. "Hi. Look, get over here quickly. I think I'm onto something," John breathed. Sherlock found himself missing Y/N's sweet voice. "You'll ne-" John was cut off by the loud footsteps barging into the room.  

Confusion plastered onto his face, and he hung up the phone. After all, there was no need to speak through a phone when Sherlock stood in the same room as him. 

"That'll be him," John said, pointing at Sherlock. Kenny Prince looked even more shaken than the consulting detective's friends were at his sudden appearance. However, the longer they pondered his arrival, the more John and Y/N realized this was normal for the great Sherlock Holmes. 

"What?" Kenny asked, looking at the unwelcome guest in his home. 

There was a calculated look on Sherlock's face before any trace of the consulting detective was washed away and replaced with a new persona. Y/N sighed as her legs lowered her body into an armchair nearby. 

"Ah, Mr. Prince, isn't it?" Sherlock took out his hand for Kenny to shake. 

"Yes," Kenny nodded, standing up to take Sherlock's hand. 

"Very good to meet you," Sherlock smiled. 

"Yes, thank you," Kenny said, still trying to figure out the situation.  

"So sorry to hear about...," Sherlock continued, but Kenny cut him off. 

Mr. Prince waved his hand, stopping Sherlock from offering false condolences about the situation. "Yes, yes, very kind."

"Shall we, er..." John cleared his throat, stepping over to Sherlock. He motioned for Sherlock to lean down before whispering in Sherlock's ear, "You were right. The bacteria got into her another way."

Sherlock couldn't help but notice the smirk that appeared on his face. "Oh yes?"

"Yes," John nodded. 

"Right. We all set?" Kenny asked, bringing his hands together. 

John, Sherlock, and Y/N frowned and watched as Kenny pointed to the camera on the sofa. Y/N grabbed it and removed the protective lens, turning it on. "Um, yes. Can you...?" she said, twirling her finger in the air, pretending to be a journalistic photographer. 

"Not too close," Kenny warned as he returned to his original stance by the mantle. "I'm raw from crying." Then he lifted his head and posed for the camera, letting Y/N take a few pictures. 

Beneath Sherlock's feet, Kenny's cat meowed. It butted its head against his dark trousers causing Sherlock to frown. He tilted his head as he peered at the cat. He wasn't sure if that's what he should call it. 

"Oh, who's this?" Sherlock wondered as he motioned to the feline. 

"Sekhmet," Kenny answered, finding a new pose for Y/N to capture. "Named after the Egyptian goddess."

"How nice! Was she Connie's?" Sherlock asked. 

"Yes," Kenny nodded, taking pride in his response. Little present from yours truly." Then John smelled it as Kenny picked up Sekhmet, and the ominous smell of disinfectant seeped from the hairless cat. John smiled as the piece clicked into place.

"Actually," John turned to Kenny, tapping Y/N on the shoulder. "I think we've got what we came for. Excuse us." 

"What?" Kenny gasped as saw Y/N place the camera strap over her shoulders and return the protective lens to its place. 

"Sherlock," John sternly stated, raising his brows to say he'd solved it. 

"What?" Sherlock frowned, trying to interpret John's signal.  

"We've got deadlines," John said, pushing his two closest friends out of Kenny Prince's living room. This left behind a puddle of confusion for Mr. Prince and his sister's cat. 

_____

Once Raoul had closed the door behind them, John erupted in cheers. Triumphantly, John raised his fist in the air and then brought it down, doing a little happy dance. Y/N smiled and giggled at the sight. 

“Yes! Ooh, yes!” John laughed. He turned to Sherlock and froze. 

One look from Sherlock swiftly ended John's parade. “You think it was the cat. It wasn't the cat,” Sherlock corrected. 

John shook his head in disbelief. “What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. It's how they got the tetanus into her system. Its paws stink of disinfectant.” John whirled around to face Y/N, seeking backup, but found none. 

“Honestly, I have no clue what’s going on,” Y/N admitted. “I just took pictures.”

A knowing smirk crept onto Sherlock’s face. “Lovely idea, John.”

“No,” John adamantly said. “He coated it onto the paws of her cat. It's a new pet, bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn't have...”

“I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm,” Sherlock announced, “but it's too random and too clever for the brother.”

“He murdered his sister for her money,” John said as his smile was wiped from his face.

“Did he?” Sherlock raised a brow.

“Didn't he?” John wondered.

Sherlock shook his head. “No. It was revenge.”

“Wait,” Y/N interjected. “Revenge? Who wanted revenge? I know his sister wasn’t the nicest to him, but even so, Kenny seemed…genuine?” 

“Raoul, the houseboy,” Sherlock began explaining the case. He straightened his coat collar and stood taller, glancing down at his friends. “Kenny Prince was the butt of his sister's jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally, he had enough and fell out with her badly. It's all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, so...”

John shook his head, still in denial. “No, wait, wait. Wait a second. What about the disinfectant, then, on the cat's claws?”

“Raoul keeps a very clean house,” Sherlock noted. “You came through the kitchen door, saw the state of that floor, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. You smell of disinfectant now. No, the cat doesn't come into it. Raoul's Internet records do, though. Hope we can get a cab from here.” 

Sherlock peered up and down the street. There wasn’t a cab in sight. 

“Well, we could always walk back to the station or hop on a bus-“ Y/N suggested. Then, as if by divine intervention, a cab pulled onto the street. The trio hastily hailed the cab and jumped inside.

It did not take them long to arrive at the station. Traffic was horrible on the streets, but with a hefty bribe to the cab driver, they were bursting through the door of Lestrade’s office faster than Mrs. Hudson could flick on the latest episode of her favorite soap opera. 

A wave of black trickled majestically after Sherlock as he entered the office. “Raoul de Santos is your killer. Kenny Prince's houseboy. Second autopsy shows it wasn't tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince. It was botulinum toxin.” 

Lestrade sat up in his seat and sifted through the numerous papers on his desk. Finding the second autopsy report, his eyes scanned the results. His eyes widened. Sherlock was right.

“We've been here before. Carl Powers? Tut-tut. Our bomber's repeated himself,” Sherlock said.

“So how'd he do it?” Lestrade asked.

“Botox injection,” Sherlock answered.

“Botox?” Lestrade questioned, raising his brows. After all, it was not every day that someone was murdered with Botox.

“Botox is a diluted form of botulinum,” Sherlock explained. “Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul's Internet purchases. He's been bulk ordering Botox for months.” Sitting across Lestrade, Sherlock swiftly crossed his legs and dug his hand into his coat pocket. “Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose.”

“You sure about this?” Lestrade asked in confirmation.

Instead of Sherlock’s voice answering, Y/N spoke up. “He is,” Sherlock peered up at her and felt his cheeks heat up. “Connie was an avid Botox user. It was all on the blogs and magazines. No one would bat an eye at the injection sights or if Botox turned up in the autopsies.” 

Lestrade nodded his head, “All right.”

“Sherlock,” John slowly said. “How long?”

“What?” Sherlock questioned as he snapped out of his daze. 

“How long have you known?” There was hurt evident in John’s voice. 

Y/N looked between the two of them. “Wait, you’re saying you sent John and I on a goose chase?” 

Sherlock shrugged, letting John and Y/N’s confusion and hurt fly over his head. “Well, this one was quite simple, actually, and like I said, the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake.”

“No, but Sherl... The hostage... the old woman,” John uttered. “She's been there all this time.”

“I knew I could save her,” Sherlock replied as he began to type on the small pink phone.

. “I also knew that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly; that gave me time to get on with other things. Don't you see? We're one up on him!“ Sherlock cheered. 

Like clockwork, the phone rang, and Sherlock answered. “Hello?”

“Help me,” the old woman whispered.

“Tell us where you are. Address,” Sherlock looked over to Lestrade, who had his team on standby. 

“He was so... His voice...,” the woman began to describe.

Sherlock’s pale blue eyes widened, and he grew pale. “No, no, no, no,” Sherlock yelled. “Tell me nothing about him. Nothing.” There was a desperation in his voice that Y/N had only heard a few times. 

Sherlock was rarely desperate unless something dangerous was happening. She recalled the terror that trembled from his chest during the night in the museum-the night Sulin died. It was the very voice he had when he clung to her after Hilton Cubitt was killed. 

Panic coursed through Y/N’s body, constricting her lungs. Sherlock was scared, and so was she. 

“He sounded so... soft-“ the caller was cut off and the horrifying sound of the dial tone screeched in Sherlock’s ear. 

Lestrade furrowed his brow and approached the stunned consulting detective. “Sherlock?” he asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“What's happened?” John questioned. 

However, Sherlock couldn’t hear any of them. The pink phone was still glued to his ear, and his blue eyes began to fill with a salty ocean. Even in the blur, he found Y/N. She stood with her hands clutching her heart, her face in pain and shock. As he sought comfort in her presence, his fears were confirmed. 

This was a game for monsters and freaks. M had made that clear. The woman over the phone was human. She cared enough to speak up. In turn, she died. She was a chess piece in a game ruled by freaks like him. M had made his move. The botulinum that killed Connie Prince wasn’t a mistake. It was a threat. M was going to take his queen. His most important player. It wasn’t a mistake that Carl Powers' shoes were found in her flat. It wasn’t a mistake. He was also killed by botulinum. Through his cloudy eyes, Sherlock saw clearly now. 

Sherlock had to remove his queen from the chessboard before M could steal her from him forever.

______

Y/N should have found comfort in the worn leather of the sofa and the creaking of the floor beneath her feet. Steam rose from her cup as the cold air of Sherlock’s flat cooled her tea. 

Mrs. Hudson had made it for her, John, and Sherlock. The brown liquid swirled in her cup, with small herbs dancing around. Mrs. Hudson always made tea for them with the secret ingredient of love. Love was precisely what Y/N needed as the television echoed the horrific news. 

“The explosion,” the reporter announced, “which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people. It is said to have been caused by a faulty gas main. A spokesman from the utilities company...”

“He certainly gets about,” John sighed, stirring the tiny spoon in his tea. 

“Well,” Sherlock began. “Obviously, I lost that round.” 

Y/N bit her tongue. Twelve people had died, and Sherlock was still playing the game. She fought back tears as anger boiled to the surface. Sherlock had a heart, but the more he spoke, the more she thought she’d been wrong. 

“Although technically I did solve the case. He killed the old lady because she started to describe him,” Sherlock explained. “Just once, he put himself in the firing line.”

“What d'you mean?” John asked. 

“Well, usually, he must stay above it all,” Sherlock said, thinking back to all the cases M had given him so far. “He organizes these things, but no one ever has direct contact.”

“What... like the Connie Prince murder – he-he arranged that?” John’s voice wavered. “So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?”

“Novel,” Sherlock muttered.

Y/N scoffed. “Sounds like a demented version of what you do.” Sherlock cocked his brow. “I mean, you’re a consulting detective. People come to you wanting their cases solved. Maybe he’s a consulting criminal?”

Sherlock nodded, feigning interest. “Taking his time this time,” Sherlock said as he checked the pink phone.

John cleared his throat. “Anything on the Carl Powers case?”

Shaking his head, Sherlock replied. “Nothing. All the living classmates check out spotless. No connection.”

“ Have you checked outside of his class?“ Y/N proposed. John and Sherlock looked at her with confusion.

“I doubt anyone outside of Carl Powers’ class would-“ Sherlock replied.

“But what if he was a bully? I know that victims of bullying will sometimes fight back and m-“ Y/N explained.

“Bully?” John repeated.

“Yeah, I just…,” Y/N said. “I don’t want to leave any stone unturned. There was a reason Carl died, and M brought it to our attention.”  

“Hmmm,” Sherlock hummed before asking Lestrade to expand his search on Carl Powers' schoolmates.

“So why's he doing this, then –” John asked Sherlock. “Why is he playing this game with you? D'you think he wants to be caught?”

“I think he wants to be distracted,” Sherlock replied, shaking his head.

“I hope you'll be very happy together,” John murmured.

Sherlock frowned and stepped towards John. “Sorry, what?”

“What I think John is trying to say is that there are lives at stake, Sherlock – actual human lives...” Y/N softly spoke. “What if that was John. What if it was me?” 

Sherlock clenched his jaw and winced at her comment. He wasn’t going to let it be her. He didn’t care how many pawns he lost. So long as his queen was safe and away from the game, he’d be alright. 

“Just so I know,” John asked. “Do you care about that at all?”

“Will caring about them help save them?” Sherlock spat. 

“No, but…,” Y/N replied.

“Then I'll continue not to make that mistake,” his voice rose, startling Y/N, and his heart broke. He didn’t want to scare her off, but he had to. This was the first step: convincing her he had no heart.

“And you find that easy, do you?” John growled, stepping up to Sherlock. Their chests puffed as they glared at each other. 

“John, Sherlock,” Y/N pleaded. “Let’s not fight, please-“

“Yes, very,” Sherlock scowled. “Is that news to you?”

“No. No,” John shook his head and stepped back, pinching his brow.”

“I've disappointed you,” Sherlock observed.

“That's good,” John mumbled, “that's a good deduction, yeah.”

“Don't make people into heroes, John,” Sherlock coldly stated. “Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them.” 

John sighed. All hope he had for Sherlock fled his mind. John scolded himself for thinking Sherlock had some semblance of empathy. He was sure his and Y/N’s presence had some sort of effect on the consulting detective. Sherlock had begun to care. He’d seen it with his eyes as he rescued them from the tunnel during the Blind Banker case. There was no mistaking it. Sherlock cared for them, but his game with M made John even more concerned. With each task M gave them, John drew more and more connections. Sherlock and M were too similar, and John feared losing his best friend to the monster. 

“Excellent!” Sherlock exclaimed the moment the pink phone buzzed with their newest case.  

Despite their flaming frustration with the detective, John and Y/N crowded around the phone, peering down at the photo.

“View of the Thames. South Bank – somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo,” Sherlock noted before turning to his friends. “You check the papers,” he instructed John. “I'll look online...”

“Oh, you're angry with me,” Sherlock paused, looking at John. “…so you won't help.” 

John only sighed. Of course, he was going to help. People's lives were on the line, and he was a doctor. There was no way John wouldn’t do his best to save anyone he could. Sitting on the sofa, he picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Y/N before taking a newsletter.

“Archway suicide,” Y/N read. 

Sherlock shrugged. “Ten a penny.” 

Y/N bit her lip at Sherlock’s nonchalance.

“Two kids stabbed in Stoke Newington,” John repeated as he scanned the pages. “Ah. Man found on the train line, Andrew West.”

Sherlock shook his head, then slammed his computer shut. “Nothing,” he grumbled. 

Y/N and John jolted at the sound, and within an instant, Sherlock had retrieved his phone and dialed Greg’s number.

“Gary, It's me,” Sherlock announced. “Have you found anything on the South Bank between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge?”

A smile crept onto Sherlock’s face upon hearing Lestrade’s words. John and Y/N needed no warning. They reluctantly got to their feet and reached for their coats. 

_____

“D'you reckon this is connected, then? The bomber?” Lestrade asked, staring down at the drenched body on the ground.

“Must be. Odd, though...” Sherlock pulled out the pink phone. “He hasn't been in touch.”

Lestrade frowned. “But we must assume that some poor bugger's primed to explode, yeah.”

“Yes,” Sherlock nodded. He tried not to notice the way Y/N shivered under her coat. He was tempted to hand her his scarf. 

“Any ideas?” Lestrade wondered. 

Sherlock tilted his head and bit his lip, counting all the ideas. “Seven... so far.”

Lestrade’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Seven?!”

Standing up from his crouch on the ground by the body, John relayed the information he had gathered. “He's dead about twenty-four hours – maybe a bit longer. Did he drown?” He asked Lestrade.

Greg shrugged. “Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated.”

John nodded at Lestrade’s answer. “Yes, I'd agree.” Then, stepping over to Sherlock and Y/N, John continued. “There's quite a bit of bruising around the nose and mouth. More bruises here and here.”

Sherlock’s eyes followed where John had pointed out the injuries. Leaning down towards the body, he began to make his observations. “Fingertips,” Sherlock muttered quietly. Then Sherlock stood up and pulled out his phone. His feet swiftly began to trek away from the body. Greg, John, and Y/N followed along in confusion. 

“In his late thirties, I'd say, not in the best condition. He's been in the river a long while. The water's destroyed most of the data. But I'll tell you one thing: that lost Vermeer painting's a fake,” Sherlock stated. 

“What?” Lestrade asked. 

Sherlock turned towards Lestrade, with instructions readied. “We need to identify the corpse. Find out about his friends and associates...”

Lestrade shook his hands and head at the same time. Quickly, he jumped in front of Sherlock, interrupting his path to the cab awaiting them. “Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait. What painting? What are you – what are you on about?”

Blue eyes rolled in annoyance, and Sherlock pocketed his phone. “It's all over the place. Haven't you seen the posters? Dutch Old Master, supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago; now it's turned up. Worth thirty million pounds.”

“Okay,” Lestrade calmly said. His hands returned to his side. “So what has that got to do with the stiff?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened as a grin flashed across his face. “Everything. Have you ever heard of the Golem?” He asked his companions.

“Golem?” Y/N repeated. “You mean the magical creature that-“

“No,” Sherlock said, shutting down her idea.

“It's a horror story, isn't it?” John guessed. Sherlock nodded. 

“A horror story?” Y/N wondered. “What are you saying?”

“Jewish folk story,” Sherlock explained. “A gigantic man made of clay.” 

“So I was right. Sort of…” Y/N interjected. 

“It's also the name of an assassin,” Sherlock continued. “Real name: Oskar Dzundza. One of the deadliest assassins in the world. That is his trademark style.”

“So this is a hit?” Lestrade questioned.

“Definitely,” Sherlock confidently said. “The Golem squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands.”

Lestrade grimaced. “But what has this gotta do with that painting? I don't see...”

“You do see,” Sherlock hissed. “You just don't observe.”

“All right, all right, girls, calm down,” John began, but Y/N shot him a look. “Sorry, Sherlock calm down,” John corrected. “Sherlock? D'you wanna take us through it?”

Y/N placed her hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and peered up at him. With a soft smile, she reassured him. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock began. “What do we know about this corpse?” He raised a brow and looked at the three of them. “The killer's not left us with much, just the shirt and the trousers. They're pretty formal; maybe he was going out for the night. The trousers are heavy duty. Polyester, nasty, same as the shirt, cheap. They're both too big for him. So, some kind of standard-issue uniform. Dressed for work, then. What kind of work? There's a hook on his belt... for a walkie-talkie.”

“Tube driver?” Lestrade guessed.

“Construction worker?” Y/N wondered.

“Security guard?” John said, throwing his guess into the air.

“More likely,” Sherlock agreed. “That'll be borne out by his backside.”

“Backside?!” Lestrade’s mouth gaped open.

“Flabby,” Sherlock noted. “You'd think that he'd led a sedentary life, yet the soles of his feet and the nascent varicose veins in his legs show otherwise. So, a lot of walking and a lot of sitting around. Security guard's looking good. And the watch helps, too. The alarm shows he did regular night shifts.”

“Why regular?” Lestrade questioned. “Maybe he just set his alarm like that the night before he died?”

“No, no, no,” Sherlock shook his head. “The buttons are stiff, hardly touched. He set his alarm like that a long time ago. His routine never varied. But there's something else. The killer must have been interrupted; otherwise, he would have stripped the corpse completely. There was some kind of badge or insignia on the shirt front that he tore off, suggesting the dead man worked somewhere recognizable, some kind of institution.” 

Sticking his hand into the man’s pant pocket, Sherlock pulled out a wad of small papers. “Found this inside his trouser pockets. Sodden by the river but still recognizably...” Sherlock’s voice trailed off, awaiting a response from anyone.

“Tickets?” Y/N said after glancing at the papers. 

“Ticket stubs. He worked in a museum or gallery. Did a quick check. The Hickman Gallery has reported one of its attendants as missing.” Sherlock pointed to the dead man on the ground. “Alex Woodbridge. Tonight, they unveil the re-discovered masterpiece. Now, why would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary gallery attendant? Inference, the dead man knew something about it, something that would stop the owner getting paid thirty million pounds. The picture's a fake.”

“Fantastic,” John complimented.

“Meretricious,” Sherlock mused.

“And a Happy New Year!” Greg blurted. 

Y/N raised a brow as she looked between the three men, uncertain of what inside joke was going on between them. 

“Poor sod,” John muttered, looking down at the deceased.

“I'd better get my feelers out for this Golem character,” Greg said as the group picked up their pace back to where the cab awaited.

“Pointless,” Sherlock warned Greg. “You'll never find him. But I know a man who can.”

“Who?” Greg asked.

Sherlock whirled around and extended his arms out. “Me,” he proudly said before gracefully disappearing into the back of the cab. “Why hasn't he phoned? He's broken his pattern. Why?” He muttered to himself. Once John and Y/N were safely seated, Sherlock instructed the cab driver on their next destination. “Waterloo Bridge.”

“Where now? The Gallery?” John wondered.

“In a bit,” Sherlock replied.

“The Hickman's contemporary art,” Y/N questioned. “Why have they got hold of an old master?” 

“Dunno,” Sherlock admitted. “Dangerous to jump to conclusions. Need data...” Sherlock’s eyes gazed out the window. The car had slowed underneath a bridge. Beside the car sat a homeless woman collecting change. “Stop!” Sherlock hollered. He leaned close to the driver's ear. “You wait here. I won't be a moment.”

“Sherlock?” John called after his friend, who walked up to the woman. They exchanged words, and Sherlock deposited a hefty sum into her cup.

“What are you doing?” John asked Sherlock once he got back into the cab. 

“Investing,” Sherlock mysteriously replied. “Now we go to the Gallery.” 

As luck would have it, the gallery was only a few minutes drive away from their detour. “Have you got any cash?” Sherlock asked John. 

John sighed and paid the driver before stepping out after Sherlock. However, Sherlock pushed John back into the car, toppling into Y/N’s lap. 

“No. I need you two to find out all you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give you the address,” Sherlock said before closing the door in John’s face.

“Okay,” John grumbled. He quickly apologized to Y/N and then the two of them departed to Alex Woodbridge’s flat. 

______

It was surprisingly easy to get into Alex Woodbridge’s apartment compared to Kenny Prince’s home. There was no need for a camera and fake personas. 

Woodbridge’s apartment was a simplistic sight. The living space gave hardly any room for John, Y/N, and Julie, Alex’s roommate, to comfortably stand without brushing shoulders with one another. 

Julie appeared to be a sweet woman with her gentle expression. She wrapped her black and white flannel around her body and led them deeper into the flat. 

“We'd been sharing about a year,” Julie explained. She turned around to look back at John and Y/N. Her frizzy, short, brown hair stuck out oddly. “Just sharing.”

“Mmm,” John hummed to reassure Julie he didn’t assume otherwise. 

Stepping into Alex’s room, Y/N peered around, John close behind. In the left corner sat the bed, still unmade. Besides, a small table held a lamp, a few empty wrappers, and books. A cloaked object sat underneath a skylight on the far right side of the room. Y/N stepped closer, her brows knitting together as she guessed what it could be. 

“Is this a telescope?” Y/N asked, looking back at Julie, who nodded. 

John raised his brows, a bit impressed. It was not every day you came across someone who owned their own telescope. Gently pulling off the sheet, John felt a soft smile growing on his lips. His mind began to recall a time when he was a boy. He had learned about the solar system and was fascinated by it, so much so that he wrote to Santa to bring him a telescope for Christmas. It never happened, but still, it was a wish from childhood, and John couldn’t help but be fond. 

“May I?” He asked, motioning to the cloth covering the telescope.

“Yeah,” Julie nodded with a sadness in her voice. 

“Sorry,” John and Y/N consoled. 

“Stargazer, was he?” John questioned, and Julie’s face lit up with a caring light. 

“God, yeah. Mad about it. It's all he ever did in his spare time,” she chuckled. “He was a nice guy, Alex. I liked him. He was, er, never much of a one for hoovering.” Then Julie quickly looked away to conceal the tears that bubbled up to the surface. 

Y/N wanted to hug the woman but chose not to. Instead, she opted for her words: “Sorry for your loss.” Julie nodded in thanks. 

“What about art? Did he know anything about that?” John asked. 

“It was just a job,” Julie shrugged, “you know?” 

“Hmm. Has anyone else been around asking about Alex?” John pursed his lips in thought, bringing his hands behind his back to fiddle with his fingers. It was a habit that helped him think. 

Julie shook her head. “No…” Her voice trailed off as she realized something. “We had a break-in, though.”

“Hmm? When was that?” Y/N wondered as she peeked at the books on Alex’s bedside table. They were astronomy books of all sorts. 

“Last night. There was nothing taken,” Julie assured them. “Oh, there was a message left for Alex on the landline,” she said, trying to note anything of importance to the two of them. 

John raised his brows and strolled over to the phone beside Julie. “Who was it from?” 

“Well, I can play it for you if you like,” Julie said before turning around to enter the message box. She typed a few buttons and the phone began to whirr to life. 

Y/N and John stepped closer to hear. 

“Oh, should I speak now? Alex? Love, it's Professor Cairns. Listen, you were right. You were bloody right! Give us a call when…,” the message repeated.  

“Professor Cairns?” John mumbled, glancing up at Julie. 

Shaking her head, Julie replied. “No, no idea, sorry.”

“Mmm,” Y/N bit her lip. “Can we try and ring back?”

“Well, that's no good,” Julie replied. “I mean, I've had other calls since—sympathy ones, you know.”

John and Y/N nodded, remembering Julie’s roommate’s death. Turning to each other, they nodded. 

“Thanks again, Julie, for helping us,” Y/N thanked as the woman led John and her out of the flat. 

Julie sniffled before replying. “Anything I can do to help you catch Alex’s murderer.”

The two friends waved goodbye as the door shut. Once the click and lock of the door were heard, Y/N turned to John. 

“So,” she began. “Shall we go find Sherlock?” 

For some odd reason, John felt a slight twinge in the back of his head appear. His frustration with Sherlock was still fresh, and John was not looking to reopen the wound any time soon. Sighing, he responded, “I’m sure Sherlock will find us when he needs us.” 

Y/N chuckled in agreement. “Yeah, you’re not wrong about that. Should we go to the gallery then? Do some snooping of our own?” She wiggled her brows, which made John snicker. 

Before he could answer, the phone in his back pocket buzzed. Pulling it out, John frowned upon seeing the name, and his headache worsened. He bit back another sigh as the case Sherlock put on the back burner began to burn too hot. Mycroft was growing impatient and started to bother John about it. 

“Actually,” John said. “We’ve got another job we can work on.” 

Y/N’s face contorted with confusion. “What other-” she cut herself short. “Mycroft.” She linked her arm with John’s. “If Sherlock can have his little side-quests and detours, so can we.”

______

“He wouldn't. He just wouldn't.” The woman on the couch was inconsolable. It was not in the sense that her tears and sobs made questioning her difficult. In fact, she wasn’t crying at all. She solemnly sat on her sofa with her hands clenching tightly together. The tiny shard of sunlight peeked through her closed curtains, dimly lighting the room. While John and Y/N tried their best to sympathize and speak with her, Lucy refused to believe her boyfriend had anything to do with their case despite all the evidence against him. 

“Well, stranger things have happened,” John tried to say. 

“Westie wasn't a traitor. It's a horrible thing to say!” She glared at John as her hands turned white. 

“I'm sorry, but you must understand that's…” 

“That's what they think, isn't it, his bosses?” Lucy questioned. If someone else had watched the scene, they would have thought Lucy was interrogating John and Y/N. 

“He was a young man about to get married. He had debts…,” John softly listed off possible reasons, but Lucy was not having them. 

She defended, “Everyone's got debts, and Westie wouldn't want to clear them by selling out his country.” 

“John, can you, erm...?” Y/N sent him a look to let her give it a go. He raised his hands and let Y/N take the reins. “Lucy, we're not here to accuse Westie. We’re here for answers, and you have them. Can you tell me exactly what happened that night?”

Lucy nodded. Her shoulders relaxed, and the color returned to her hands. “We were having a night in. Just... watching a DVD. He normally falls asleep, you know, but he sat through this one. He was quiet. Out of the blue, he said he just had to go and see someone.”

“Do you know who?” Y/N asked. Lucy just shook her head and began to sob. Y/N peered over at John and whispered that it was time for them to leave. Any more questions and Y/N was afraid they’d leave Lucy in an even bigger puddle of tears and sorrow than she had been in before.

“I think it’s time we should go,” Y/N began to stand up. Lucy stood up and led John and Y/N back to the entrance. The cool light of the day momentarily blinded them, but their eyes quickly adjusted.   

“Oh, hi, Luce. You okay, love?” A man rolling in a bike asked. He stared at John and Y/N as they stepped out of his way. 

“Yeah,” Lucy nodded. 

“Who's this?” the biker asked. 

“John Watson. Hi,” John greeted. 

“Y/N L/N,” Y/N replied, taking the man’s hand. 

“This is my brother, Joe.” Lucy explained, “John and Y/N are trying to find out what happened to Westie, Joe.”

Joe raised his brows. “You two with the police?” 

“Uh…” John trailed off, looking over at Y/N, who hesitantly nodded. “...sort of, yeah.”

“Well,” Joe began, “tell 'em to get off their arses, will you? It's bloody ridiculous.”

John nodded. “I'll do my best. Well, er, thanks very much for your help. Again, I'm very, very sorry.”

“He didn't steal those things, Mr. Watson,” Lucy called out once John and Y/N stepped onto the street. “I knew Westie. He was a good man. He was my good man.”

Y/N waved goodbye before turning her back to Lucy. She shivered and whispered to John. “It’d be nice if she was right.”

“Yeah…” John absently agreed. “It would be.”

______

Sherlock’s scowl grew the longer he stood outside 221 B Baker Street. Soon, his left foot was tapping on the stone steps. He was growing impatient. John and Y/N sure seemed to be taking their time to arrive. 

Suddenly, a black cab rolled up to the street. It didn’t take a genius to spot the two figures inside. Sherlock jumped down the front steps and greeted the cab’s passengers. 

John stepped out first and then helped Y/N out afterward. “Alex Woodbridge didn't know anything special about art,” John told Sherlock. 

“And?” Sherlock questioned. John furrowed his brow in response.”Is that it? No habits, hobbies, personality?”

“Sherlock, breathe. Give us a second,” Y/N blurted. Sherlock’s wide blue eyes locked onto Y/N and he felt his heart stutter, giving John ample time to appropriately respond. 

“He was an amateur astronomer.”

A light went off in Sherlock’s mind. “Hold that cab,” he instructed them before running off to a homeless woman leaning against an iron fence. 

“Spare change, sir?” She asked Sherlock. 

“Don't mind if I do,” Sherlock stuck out his hand and retrieved the small slip of paper from the woman’s hands. 

Y/N watched the interaction with curiosity. Her eyes trailed after Sherlock as he hopped into the cab. Soon, the three of them were tucked in the back seat once again. 

It wasn’t long before they walked alongside industrial buildings and inside dark alleyways. Y/N found herself stepping closer to Sherlock as they passed from the light of the street lamps into the dark. Her hand brushed against his ever so softly. For a moment, her hand was all Sherlock could think about. 

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Sherlock whispered. His eyes trailing up to the twinkling stars above. 

Y/N’s eyes followed Sherlock’s. She paused before speaking. “I thought you didn’t care about stuff like that? Useless bits of information.”

Sherlock smirked, but his eyes moved down to hers, and his smile became a loving smile. “Doesn't mean I can't appreciate their beauty.” Time seemed to stand still as he gazed at Y/N under the starlight. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes trickled to her lips.  

John spoke, breaking Sherlock’s trance. “Listen, Alex Woodbridge had a message on the answerphone at his flat. A Professor Cairns?”

“This way,” Sherlock said, leading John and Y/N deeper into the dark tunnels. 

“Nice! Nice part of town,” John sarcastically noted. “Er, any time you wanna explain.”

“Homeless network – really is indispensable,” Sherlock replied.

“Homeless network?” John questioned. 

“My eyes and ears all over the city,” Sherlock elaborated. 

“Ah, that's... clever. So you scratch their backs and...?” 

“Yes, then I disinfect myself,” Sherlock finished before taking out three lights for them and handing them out. 

“Flashlights?” Y/N wondered, turning hers on. 

John and Sherlock shared an odd expression. “What did you just call it?” John asked.

“A flashlight.”

John shook his head. “It’s a torch.”

Y/N fought back a sigh. “Yeah, torch, whatever. You know, sometimes I think you two forget I’m from America.”

Sherlock chuckled at the interaction. “Let’s go,” he said, flicking on his torch. 

The three of them entered the tunnel together. Small fires scattered between erected tents and cardboard boxes were the only light besides their own. As they whirled their lights around, Y/N stuck close to Sherlock. She felt as if she were more than three steps away from him; her lungs would constrict. 

“Sherlock! Y/N!” John’s voice hissed. The three of them spotted the tall shadow casting onto a nearby wall. 

Sherlock’s leather-gloved hand grasped Y/N’s arm.  “Come on!” Sherlock whispered as he quickly pulled her by his side, pushed her against the brick wall, and placed his hands beside her head. Sherlock leaned in close, using his body as a shield. Y/N’s nose was filled with his scent. She closed her eyes and bit her lip at the sudden intrusion in her personal space. 

“What's he doing sleeping rough?” John questioned. 

Y/N shuddered as Sherlock’s warm breath brushed against her cheeks. “Well, he has a very distinctive look. He has to hide somewhere where tongues won't wag – much.” Sherlock removed one of his hands from beside Y/N and reached into his pocket. 

“Oh shi…” John muttered to himself as he felt up his coat. “I wish I'd…” 

 Sherlock revealed John’s gun and handed it to him. John gratefully took the weapon and readied it. 

“Don't mention it,” Sherlock said, pushing off the wall to chase after the Golem. The three of them darted down the hallway after the giant man’s figure. By the time they reached the end, they caught sight of their killer entering a small black car. The door shut, and the car revved. Then Golem was gone. 

“ No! No! No! No!” Sherlock cried, waving his fist in the air. “It'll take us weeks to find him again.” 

Beside him, Y/N and John panted, looking at the exhaust the car had left behind. 

“Actually…” Y/N interjected. “I think I know where he’s going—or at least who he’s going after.” 

John’s eyes lit up with the same thought that occupied Y/N’s. “The Professor,” he muttered. 

“What?” Sherlock asked. 

“I told you: someone left Alex Woodbridge a message,” John recalled. “There can't be that many Professor Cairns in the book. Come on.”

______

A bright light crept out from underneath two large metal doors. Beyond the doors, Y/N could hear the voiceover of a film. She furrowed her brows and peered at her friends as they quietly and stealthily approached the doors. 

“Is that a–” Y/N began to ask when Sherlock cut her off. 

“Y/N, you’re staying out here.” 

Shock washed over Y/N’s face. “No, I am not staying behind.”

“No!” Sherlock hissed. “John and I will handle it. We’ll handle Golem, just stay here and-”

“And what? Look pretty? It’s just as dangerous staying out here in the dark than it is in the planetarium,” Y/N argued. She looked to John for assistance but was met with concerned eyes. “John?”

In an instant, Y/N was yanked away from the door. Sherlock’s firm hands grasped her shoulder and pulled her in close. “The Golem is dangerous and-” 

“Oh my God!” A shrill cry echoed from inside the planetarium. 

Sherlock’s eyes widened, and he removed his hands from Y/N. Motioning to John, he pushed open the door. “Stay here,” he commanded Y/N before the door slammed in her face. 

Muttering an array of curses under her breath, Y/N charged in after them. Immediately, her eyes burned from the flashing lights. In the flickers of light, Y/N saw John and Sherlock dance around for any sight of Golem. The longer Y/N looked, the dizzier she felt. Her feet stumbled, and she toppled off the stage. 

“Golem!”She heard Sherlock cry. 

Y/N groaned and came to a crouch position. In the distance, she spotted a woman lying on the ground. The lights continued to flash as she crawled over to who she believed to be Professor Cairns. Behind her, John and Sherlock struggled to spot Golem. 

“..many are actually long-dead, exploded into supernovas,” the film's narrator announced before the tape began to whir. 

“I can't see him. I'll go round. I'll go!” John yelled. 

Finger dug into the carpet as Y/N pulled herself closer to the professor. Her body was trembling, and her stomach began to churn. The light blared at her, and the volume of the film increased with each second. Y/N was sure that by the end, she’d come out blind and deaf. 

“Who are you working for this time, Dzundza?” She heard Sherlock taunt the assassin.

Finally, Y/N reached Professor Cairns. Suddenly, Y/N felt very cold. Sick climbed up her throat, and sweat clung to her forehead. Images of those dead, Hilton, the woman over the phone, and Soo Lin sparked in her mind. Feeling a sudden wave of determination, Y/N sat up and placed her hands on the professor’s chest. She wasn’t about to let someone else die, not if she could help it. Then she pushed down. Her shoulders pumped up and down, holding a steady pace. Up and down. Up and down. 

“Golem!” John hollered, followed by the sound of a gun cocking. “Let him go... or I will kill you.” 

Then, muffled grunts and cries reached Y/N’s ears. Her pace halted. Frightened eyes whirled around in a desperate search for John and Sherlock. The lights flickered on, and there they were. Under the spotlight, Sherlock swiftly twirled around Golem. The horror of a man towered over Sherlock, making him appear as miniscule as an ant. Nearby lay John, who struggled to get off the ground. 

“Sherlock!” Y/N screamed as Golem’s giant hand swung at Sherlock. The force of the blow dragged Sherlock to the floor. Instantly, Golem jumped on him, placing his hands over Sherlock’s nose and mouth. 

Jumping to her feet, Y/N ran as if it was the only thing she knew how to do. With each step, her mind went blank. She had to save Sherlock, but how? If Sherlock seemed tiny compared to the Golem, she was microscopic. Launching herself onto the stage, she slammed her body into the Golem. The sheer force momentarily knocked the Golem to the ground. However, he soon found himself back on his feet. A sickening grin inched onto Golem’s face as he stepped to Sherlock and Y/N. Y/N felt herself freeze over, unable to move, breathe, or blink. Golem stalked closer. Y/N shuddered before laying herself over Sherlock. She knew she didn’t stand a chance against a trained killer, but at the very least, she could give Sherlock time. 

Sherlock’s eyes blew wide as Y/N placed herself in front of him. “No, run away,” he wanted to croak but found his voice gone. It had been choked from him, instantly stunning him. With a breathless gaze, he gazed up at her. The stars and planets zoomed overhead in a taunting manner.

Clenching her eyes shut, Y/N braced herself for Golem’s hand, but it never came. John had pounced on him, locking the assassin in a chokehold. Golem struggled to pull John off, but when he did, he disappeared–jumping off the stage and running out the door. 

Y/N didn’t open her eyes until she felt Sherlock’s gentle touch on her cheek. It took her a moment to realize they were now sitting up. The film was playing overhead. With tears, she looked at him, and her voice was stolen. She wanted to say so many things but couldn’t find the words. Sherlock’s free arm wrapped around her body, pulling her close. Carefully, Y/N tucked her head into Sherlock’s neck. She breathed him in, feeling his heartbeat on her cheek. He was alive. She was alive. 

While Y/N clung to Sherlock, he found his mind in torment. He’d almost lost her. Sherlock tried so hard to keep her safe and close because, to him, Sherlock was the safest place around. However, it was a lie. Sherlock was dangerous, and being close to him was unsafe for her. 

He knew that now. If he hadn’t dragged her from case to case, she’d be safe in her flat with her cat. If he hadn’t brought her on, she wouldn’t have seen so much death. She would be safe. She would be free to live an everyday life away from Sherlock. But Sherlock was selfish. Her presence was more potent than any drug he’d ever taken. Her lips were sweeter than any victory had been. Sherlock was greedy and wanted her to stay, to be close, and never leave. Most of all, he wanted to love her. He did love her. Sherlock loved Y/N more than anything. 

A single tear fell from the pool in Sherlock’s eyes. He loved Y/N, so he had to keep safe, even if it meant he’d never see her again. She would be safe away from him, and so she had to go. Sherlock took one last moment to be selfish as they sat holding each other. His trembling lips met the crown of her head. His nose inhaled her scent one last time. His hands enveloped her body before tearing himself away. 

_____

Moriarty. The name was whispered in Sherlock’s mind as he and John opened the door to 221B Baker Street. A bittersweet triumph latched onto their shoulders, dragging them up the stairs. They had solved the case and saved that little boy, but now they had more questions. 

Warm light wrapped around Sherlock and John as they stepped into their flat. Their eyes fell onto Y/N’s sleeping figure. Sherlock had sent her home after their fight with Golem. Despite her protests, Sherlock and John’s insistence won. Both men’s eyes softened at the sight of Y/N.Her hair cascaded over her features, vaguely concealing the red skin around her eyes. 

Sherlock took a step further into the room. The floorboard creaked beneath his feet, alerting the woman from her sleep. She shot up but then relaxed at the sight. 

“You’re back,” she whispered. “What happened? Did you-”

“We solved the case,” Sherlock coldly said. He removed his coat and scarf and tossed them onto John’s armchair. 

“Sherlock,” Y/N gently muttered. “Are you alright?”

“Just stop!” Sherlock hissed. Y/N froze, and her eyes widened with shock as Sherlock appeared in front of her. “Don’t you see nothing you do helps? You’re a liability, Y/N. I’ve known it from the moment I laid eyes on you. From the moment I found you in that cab with a gun to your head, you’ve been a liability to me.” 

A new set of tears began to pour from Y/N’s eyes, too stunned to fight back.  

“If it weren’t for your emotions getting in the way—your caring…oh, your caring. You care too much.  Just as I said before, what good does caring do when people are going to die anyway? Soo Lin,  Hilton Cubitt: They all died despite your cares. Sentiment is a weakness found on the losing side. You, Y/N, are on the losing side. The only reason you haven’t realized it was because I was there. My mind free from the poison of it all,” Sherlock took in a shaky breath. His voice grew quiet. “...or so I thought.”

Stifling a sob, Y/N pleaded with Sherlock. “So why bother keeping me around?

“I had to,” he uttered. “You are my liability! Your sentiment is contagious, and its effects are leaking onto me. You make me weak. You make me lose my mind when I am not near you. And when I am, all concepts of cunning and intelligence evade me. I become human. I fear. I feel things I have never felt before. You…you have ruined me!”

Silence filled the air. John stood against the wall and clenched his fist in fury. He had never wanted to hit Sherlock more than he did now. However, Y/N’s saddened scoff drew his attention. It was her turn to say her piece. 

“I…” Y/N took in a quick breath to steady herself. “…I think I finally understand what’s going on in that mind. You say sentiment is on the losing side, that it’s weak, that I’m weak. Well, Sherlock, you’re wrong.” 

Y/N stepped closer to Sherlock—a determined gleam reflected in her eyes. “Yes, I care about others, maybe too much, but that makes me stronger. I have people to love and who love me back. Can you say the same?” 

Sherlock stared back at her, all thoughts and words fled in her presence. 

“I doubt you can,” Y/N continued. Her words commanded the room and Sherlock’s attention. He could not ignore her. “You push everyone away and blame it all on your intellectual mind. Your brother has to pay others to ensure you’re okay because he cares about you, and you couldn't care less. John buys you milk even when he knows it’ll disappear within a day due to your insane experiments, yet you never say thank you or offer to buy it yourself. Auntie M makes you tea and occasionally helps tidy up even though she’s just your landlady, and you shoot holes into her walls. Greg brings you cases and lets you get away with many things, yet you can never get his name right. Molly lets you take body parts from Bart’s, something that could cost her her job. However, you shred her apart every chance you get.  I stand up for you when others try to break you down, and here you are, breaking me. All because I care too much. Because I care too much for you. I get it. I’m just your neighbor and assistant. That’s all I’ll ever be, even though you kissed me that night. Even though I’ve wanted you to kiss me for so long.” 

“But your intelligence? That’s not the real reason you push everyone away.” Y/N’s grew low. “You treat the people around you like shit because you’re afraid they’ll leave just like everyone else and it’ll be easier to unattach yourself from them if they were never really there in the first place. So I quit. I quit being your assistant. I quit being your neighbor. You win Sherlock. You want me gone? I’ll leave. I’ll find the first flight out of London. I’ll go back home. I’ll leave, and you’ll never have to see me again because I understand now…”

A sob broke out from Y/N. John gasped, staring between his two friends. Wiping her tears away, Y/N raised her chin up high. Her feet trekked to the open door of John and Sherlock’s flat and paused before leaving. “Goodbye, John,” she said to her friend with melancholy eyes. “Goodbye…Sherlock.” It was barely a whisper, and by the time Sherlock realized what Y/N had said, she was gone. 

____

The sound of the lock on her front door was the consolation Y/N found once she entered her apartment. Tears poured from her eyes as she collapsed against the door. She couldn’t see anything and couldn’t hear anything past her sobs, so when a warm hand pressed against her shoulder, she jumped out of her skin. 

Following the hand to its owner, she saw Jim standing above her. His eyes were soft and gentle as he lifted her to her feet and hugged her. 

Mumbling into her boyfriend’s shoulder, she asked, “How’d you get here?”

“Your aunt let me in,” he replied. “But that’s not important. What’s wrong, love?”

Y/N was too caught up in her emotions to recall her aunt was out with a friend for the evening. Instead, she caved into her boyfriend's touch and sweet words. 

“I’d rather not talk about it,” she admitted, leaning deeper into his comfort. 

Jim nodded and raised his hand to rub circles on her back. “How ‘bout after tea? I find that tea always helps soothe the mind.” He pulled back and smiled at her. 

Y/N quickly agreed, and before she knew it, she’d drunk two cups of the steaming hot liquid. Upon noticing her cup was empty again, Jim poured her another cup and urged her to drink up. Y/N swallowed it down, finding the herbs to numb her senses. After a moment's silence, Y/N found her strength returning. 

Taking a deep breath, she peered over at her boyfriend, ready to speak. “It was Sherlock. He…” Tears bubbled back up to the surface. “He…he” Y/N furrowed her brow. Her tongue seemed to stop working, and her mind was growing blank. “Sherlock,” she whispered with much difficulty.

Jim groaned. “Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock.” Each time he said the detective's name, a chilling animosity grew.

“Huh?” Y/N said through the fog of her mind. She knocked her hand against something hard. The teacup fell to the floor and shattered. The deafening sound provided Y/N with some momentary clarity. When Y/N tried to stand from her seat, she discovered her legs had failed her. Instead of standing upright, she was on the floor beside the shattered cup. A groan escaped her mouth. 

“I was wondering when it’d take effect,” Jim said. Y/N dragged her head to look up at him. Confusion covered her features as she saw the grin on her boyfriend’s face. As if he sensed her gaze, Jim’s eyes turned empty. “ Oh! I love that look on your face. Utter confusion. It’s adorable. I could just…muaw!” He placed a wet kiss on her lips. The force pushed her to the ground, and the hard surface welcomed her. She felt herself growing weaker. Her breath slowed, and her eyes grew heavy. 

“You made my job a whole lot easier, and I’m very grateful for that, my dear. But I’ll have to reward you later when you wake up. I’m going to take you far away from here—away from Sherlock, John…I’m taking you away from it all.” 

With the last of her strength, her mind screamed at her. Terror filled her veins as the walls caved in on her. She whimpered.

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Jim said, crouching down. His fingers brushed through her hair, luring her to sleep. “Just rest. Everything will be alright. I promise.”

_____

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Center Stage in a Gilded Cage

18+ 3k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, lite somnophilia, drugging, obsession and dependency, POV alternating, eventual smut. chapter 1/6. gif credit. AO3.

Homelander was born with only one terrible poverty: loneliness. He's been starved of love his entire life, made sick by his hunger for it, but he believes you might have the cure. If you want to survive, you'll find a way to give it to him.

Homelander has never been able to understand people who bird watch. Of all the things a mundane person could do with their abysmally mediocre life, why devote what little free time they have to observing a creature even more dull than they themselves are?

Perhaps it's the gift of flight. By far, it is the ability of his that garners the most attention. Or maybe it's the power trip one experiences when observing something simpler and weaker than yourself for sport. The novelty of becoming endeared by their strange little behaviors and quirks. It's this line of thinking that eventually walks Homelander down the path of people watching. During his downtime, in the quiet moments he spends perched atop skyscrapers and apartment complexes, he finds himself watching the people miles below him scurry about like insects through a colony.

Over time, he begins to recognize regulars. People moving back and forth, day in and day out, no different than ants moving grains back and forth. He has to laugh. It's no wonder god abandoned man. Man is fucking boring.

Even the god they made for themselves thinks so.

To ease the monotony, he concocts little stories for the ones he recognizes. He imagines the kinds of lives they live outside of their commutes and the routines he observes. He names one of them Peter, and every day he invents a new reason Peter is yet again running late for his train. Because he's always late, Peter never stops for the woman selling street meat on the corner across from the station.

Homelander imagines that the meat she peddles is people, and that she's got her eye on that speedy little rabbit, Peter.

And then one day, he notices you.

It isn’t that you’re especially beautiful or noteworthy. Just like all the other busy little bees, you go about your same routine each and every day of the week. Sometimes you're in a rush, other times you enjoy your stroll. Regardless, you always find time to stop and give money to the same homeless man occupying one of the few alleyways protected by an awning. Sometimes you linger to chat, other times you can only stop long enough to drop something into his hands.

It isn't always money. Oftentimes you have food for him packed neatly into a little take-out box. Despite the packaging, it looks homemade. You always have a warm smile for him, even when you’re obviously frazzled.

To the rest of the world, this man may as well be fucking invisible, but here you are handing him a box of home cooked food like he's someone who matters. Homelander is the world's greatest hero, and yet some bum on the street is being fed with more love and attention to detail than he ever has.

It's a goddamn joke. More and more, it becomes apparent to him that you’re pathetically lonely. After a few days of observing you amongst the others, he starts trailing you more actively, forgetting all about Peter and his eventual butcher.

He wants to know more about you.

You live alone, working and cooking for only yourself and your stray pet. Sometimes you cook for your coworkers or the odd friend who stops by before leaving you alone all over again. He watches from a distance while you toil away, cooking more food than you’ll eat in a week for people you see for a fraction of each of your weekdays. It couldn’t be more obvious that you’re desperate for someone to take care of.

In a way, he can relate. 

Maeve has been more distant than ever, choosing to engage him only when there’s a camera present. When it’s only the two of them, she just drinks until he barely recognizes her. Madelyn has begun her “fertility journey,” words that set his teeth on edge, and has barely had a real moment to spare him as of late. The rest of his team doesn’t help abate his loneliness either; Marathon is a washed up hack who can barely sprint these days, Lamplighter is only ever interested in clubbing, the Deep couldn’t hold a conversation in a bucket, and Noir is a mute.

And so he soothes his solitude with thoughts of you. When he isn’t with you, he daydreams about it, imagining what life would look like if your worlds were to intersect. The more he learns about you, the more vivid his fantasies become, and the more intensely he aches when he still finds himself alone in his bed at the end of each night.

It spurs him to visit you more and more.

One particularly warm summer night, you leave your window wide open. He takes it for the invitation it is, drifting towards it under the cover of dark. Your screen is loose and pops out noiselessly. Not exactly safe, even if you do live on the fifth storey.

You just never know what might come lurking out of the shadows.

Slipping into your living room, he’s met with the sound of white noise playing from your bedroom. Is it the sound of the streets below that bother you? You’d never hear it from his penthouse a hundred feet in the air. You could leave the windows open all you like and hear only the roar of the sky, not unlike the ocean waves your phone is poorly mimicking.

He could take you to the actual ocean. A beach house far away from the buzzing neon lights and incessant honking and revving of traffic. Walking through your apartment, he makes his way to your tiny kitchen. The one in his penthouse puts yours to absolute shame, and yet the only thing in it that’s ever been used is the fridge. He’s certain he’s never opened the double oven or so much as turned on the gas range. Meanwhile, your kitchen is riddled with use, each cupboard stuffed with mismatched cookware and the like. It smells of grease and spices and love.

The sad irony of it is almost too much to stomach. You don’t belong in this cramped little sardine can. You should be in a proper kitchen. 

You should be cooking for him. The thought comes to him like a flash of genius. Of course. That’s the answer that will solve both of your little dilemmas. If he is a bird watcher then you’re a songbird snared in a net. It would be inhumane of him to leave you to die before you’re ever appreciated–ever seen–by anyone who matters.

You would worship him for rescuing you. His wealth and power would see each and every one of your material needs met with ease. You would never work for anything again. All you would ever have to concern yourself with was being loved and loving him.

He walks to your room with a hand pressed absently over his heart, cradling the anxious little bundle of nerves that have gathered there. He can tell by your breathing that you’re deep asleep, and yet he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he approaches.

His first time being so near to you after weeks of simply observing.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he steps towards you. The sound of him is masked by the ambient noise spilling from your phone, not to mention the fan you have pointed directly at your bed in a desperate attempt to save yourself from the summer heat.

You clearly weren’t built for this paltry life. Mary was no one before God chose her for greatness. Is that not what he’s about to do for you? It’s the will of a god that elevates you.

He kneels by your bedside, bringing himself face to face with you. Your breathing is even, each huff smelling faintly of mint. Your lips look soft, slightly parted in sleep. Everything about you is gentler, more relaxed than you ever are in the day to day grind of your life.

You could look like this all the time without it. He has the power to change your entire life with nothing more than a couple of numbers shifting from one space to another. Money has always been inconsequential to him, so abundant that it hardly means anything anymore. You, however, are ruled by it.

For the first time in his life, he recognizes the power in his wealth.

He brushes the tips of his gloved fingers along your cheek, down your jaw. He’s never used his hands so tenderly as when he traces your sleeping eyelids with his fingertips, imagining what dreams chase behind them and make them flutter.

You don’t stir. 

Emboldened, he follows the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, imagining how soft you would feel against the bare pad of his finger. Leaning in closer, he indulges in the warmth of your breath tickling his lips. You’re a sound sleeper, the thud of your resting heart beating steadily in his ear.

Closing his eyes, he bridges the distance between your lips, pressing his own lightly to yours. For a second, he thinks he’s woken you, that you’ve caught sight of him and your heart is drumming loudly in his ears. He draws sharply back, but sees that you’re still deep asleep, your features peaceful.

It’s his heart that’s racing, a thundering sound that blocks out every other noise in the room. He’s breathing shallowly, excited in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. There’s a flush crawling up his throat, and it’s at that moment he breaks out into a wide, wondrous smile.

There’s no question of it now.

He has to have you.

The plan to acquire you ends up requiring very little setup. If Madelyn cares why Homelander’s suddenly spending so much, she’s yet to make a comment. 

Bitterly, he thinks it likely that she’s glad to see him distracted. 

He starts preparation by appropriately stocking his kitchen; you’ll appreciate the supply of ingredients, he knows. The quality of what he obtains for you is leagues above what you can afford, as is the cookware. He buys you new clothes, jewelry, imagining every step of the way how you’ll look in each piece. How you’ll look as he takes them off. He’s seeking to upgrade your life in every conceivable way, like bringing a cat home from the pound and teaching it the meaning of luxury.

You’ll want for nothing. You’ll be so grateful to him. And you, the sweet and perfect little thing that you are, make yourself painfully easy to ensnare. You come home under the cover of dark like clockwork, perfectly oblivious to his approach. You’ve just managed to fish your keys out of your bag when his hand closes a kerchief over your mouth and nose, stifling your cry. His other arm slips around your waist, holding you steady. The cloth smells overly sweet, ether-like, and though that scent has no effect on him, you respond to it almost immediately.  “Shhhhshhshh,” he soothes, letting the anesthesia do its job. Fuck, you feel good in his arms, back held tight to his chest, your delicate hands prying at his wrist as you kick, claw and scream–albeit muffled–into the cloth. He holds you with ease, keeping you close to his body, angling you in such a way that you won’t hurt yourself.

Despite your tenacity, you fight a losing battle. Your efforts grow weaker and weaker as you lose your grip on consciousness. He hushes you all the while, encouraging you. “That’s it, let it go. I’ve got you, I’ve got you...” Finally your head falls back against his shoulder, your face lolling into the crook of his neck, the rest of your body falling slack in his arms. He pulls the cloth away from your mouth, tucking it into your bag for now. He turns his head to yours, lips barely ghosting along your forehead. He takes in a deep breath of you, his eyes falling shut. Beneath the sickly sweet smell of the chemical mixture he knocked you out with, he can smell the remnants of your perfume. It’s not his favorite fragrance, but the underlying warm scent of you is intoxicating. He’ll collect whatever belongings you decide you want with you when he returns, if anything, but he doubts you’ll miss much. Your stuff will seem like a heap of rags and garbage by comparison. He’s looking forward to how the perfumes and lotions he’s bought you will smell on your skin, and how you’ll look in the clothing he’s picked for you. He adjusts you into a bridal carry in his arms and gently kicks off from the ground, holding you firm to his chest. The city is beautiful at night, a landscape of stars mirroring that of the sky above it. He’s always loved it here, and yet he’s shared it with a painful few.

Madelyn never lets him take her to the skies. Maeve had been wowed initially, but she had quickly grown disillusioned with it. With him.

You’ll be different. The trip back to his penthouse feels agonizingly slow, but he maintains a lesser pace to keep the wind from rashing your skin, savoring the featherlight weight of you in his arms at last. He lands deftly on his balcony, stepping through his open reinforced glass doors. After laying you down in his bed, he takes a moment to slip off your shoes, setting them aside. He eases your purse off of your shoulder, and places it on the nightstand. After sprawling a thin blanket over you, he takes a step back and puts his hands on his hips to admire the perfectly domestic scene he’s set.

Slowly, he breaks out into a smile. His bed swallows you up, makes you look small and lonely. He’s the missing piece, of course. He’s already looking forward to seeing himself complete the picture in the mirror above you. He imagines coming home to you like this, curled up in his–no, your shared bed, blanket pulled up over your shoulders to block the chill left by his absence.

Oh, how you’ll miss him when he’s gone.

You’ll have nothing and no one to concern yourself with except for him. No burdens, no dread, no stress. You’ll live in peace and security the likes of which you can scarcely imagine, spoiled rotten by the bounty of all that he is.

Neither of you will ever be lonely again.

Tilting his head slightly, he listens to the sound of you. Your breathing is shallow, the beat of your heart steady. Normal people don’t realize it, don’t have the capacity for it, but a heartbeat is as distinct as a fingerprint. Over the years, he’s learned to read them as such. He’s memorized yours. There isn’t much for him to do in the time that you’re asleep. He knows precisely how long you’ll be out; the anesthesia blend he gave you was straight out of Vought’s lab, and the dose he gave you leaves him with at least an hour before the two of you meet properly. The anticipation is enough to make him giddy. For all that Homelander knows about you, there is plenty he does not. The externals of your life have only provided him so much, but that will come in time. He didn’t bother with perusing your social media accounts, not being particularly proficient in them himself. 

Besides, he wants getting to know you to be an organic experience.

He remembers to take your phone out of your bag and dispose of that rag he used to dose you while he’s at it. He unlocks your phone the way he’s seen you do a dozen times before, and spends some time ensuring that no one will be expecting you anywhere any time soon. All it takes is one quick email and you no longer have a job. A few social media posts later, you’ve informed anyone who might think of you that you’ll be enjoying an impromptu sabbatical in Europe.

The power of technology. After that, he pops your phone into the safe behind one of the dozens of portraits on his wall.

When he hears you starting to stir, renewed butterflies start fluttering about in his stomach. You have no idea that your entire life–no, your entire perception of reality–is about to change. No more dodgy commutes, no more living paycheck-to-paycheck. You’ll be free to admire the world from the lap of luxury–his lap, to be specific. You make a quiet moan, the chemical fog wearing off gradually. He moves swiftly to your bedside, primed with a welcoming smile, hands on his hips. “Riiiise and shine, sleepyhead,” he coaxes, leaning forward at the waist. Still disoriented from the drugs in your system, you stare at him as if you’re dreaming. He doesn’t blame you. In almost every other reality, there’s no explanation for the fact you’re seeing America’s favorite hero, the Homelander, standing above you. He knows the side effects of the drug have left a strange buzzing in your ears, and that your tongue likely feels heavy and cottony. He’s already got water for you on the bedside table. “Home…lander?” You manage to get out. His smile broadens. That’s the first time he’s heard you say his name. You look cute like this, bleary-eyed and needy. He’s grown accustomed to seeing you as a put together provider, self-sufficient and tending to the needs of those around you, but rarely your own. Seeing you unraveled feels like a secret intimacy for him alone. “The one and only,” he preens. Now that you’ve seen him posed valiantly by your side, he takes a seat on the bed next to you, reaching out to brush his gloved knuckles along your forehead. He attributes the slight flinch to your drug addled confusion. Poor thing. If he’d had an alternative to using a sedative, he would have preferred that.

Not that it matters now. You’re finally here.

jungkook fics i can read all night all day seven days a week.

(a recommendation you didn’t know you needed) ₊⊹ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

Vows Of Betrayal ౨ৎ by @tljunglebook

— contract marriage au, enemies to lovers, romance, smut, angst.

(I will never not scream about this! this is my current favourite read! the enemies to lovers really hits in this one! AND THE SMUT SCENES ARE SO GOOD THEY MADE ME PREGNANT SO I RECOMMEND!) 😩💳

Inevitable ౨ৎ by @ahundredtimesover

— exes to lovers, second chance, parents au, angst.

(this happens to be the cutest story I’ve ever read, the longing and angst is so good!) 🥺🫶🏼

Dextrocardia ౨ৎ by @jeonstudios

— enemies to lovers, fake marriage, cop au, angst.

(this story should be arrested for being so damn good! i love how intense the enemies phase is before they start softening towards each other, the way the author managed to portray the patriarchal issues through this story is incredible, i never thought i’d say this but im an anti of jungkook in this story 😤😡 he better apologise with crocodile tears otherwise he can say goodbye to y/n.

You’re Still Mine ౨ৎ by @wattpadauthour

— workaholic husband jungkook, marriage in trouble trope, second chance.

(THIS STORY IS GONNA BE MY FOREVER FAVOURITE FOR A LONG LONG TIME! NO MATTER HOW MANY STORIES I READ I WILL ALWAYS GO BACK TO RE-READ! LIKE READ IT RIGHTAWAY IF YOU HAVENT! 😤)

Four-Seven-Eight ౨ৎ by @jiminrings

— marriage in crisis, angst, more angst, fluff.

(the heartache you’re gonna feel while reading this is no joke, i really felt sad for the y/n here (and cried a river) AND I LOVE IT WHEN BOOKS MAKE ME CRY LIKE THE WORLD IS ENDING TOMMOROW 😻💋 you know its gonna be worth it)

Time After Time ౨ৎ by @hiseyestell

— doctor au, she fell first but he fell harder (but much later), fluff.

(by far the most realistic fanfic I’ve read, jungkook is so cold that you wanna smack him in his stupid head, the female oc is so smitten with him its adorable but sad at the same time) ☹️

His Clumsy Secretary ౨ৎ by @hwangguemfictions

— grumpy x sunshine, he fell first and harder, office romance, major angst.

(this fanfic is criminally good! especially the bgm, the dialogues, the way he’s just so endeared with her, this is a big smash!) 🤰🏻🫦

The Deepest Marks Of Essence ౨ৎ by @lleldey

— tribe leader jungkook, yandere au, smut, angst.

(my favourite writer for a reason! 🫴🏼 i can never stop obsessing over yer unique storylines and writing, she’s my new favourite tbh and this story will convince you as well) 🤭💕

Marrying The Vicount ౨ৎ by @taevjim

— rich man x poor girl, regency era au, smut, filthy fluff.

(my two worlds colliding fr! this author wrote it so beautifully 😍🤌🏻 jungkook as a vicount tho (im already crying between my legs) this is like a fever dream come true, this is so effing good that i think no words are fair enough, maybe you should take a look yourself! (i swear this is worth the read!!!!)

Fight Club

Team Free Will & Winchester!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you start a fight club at school, and your protective big brothers and guardian angel find out about it.

“Is that a bruise?”

You tensed at Sam’s question as he grabbed your arm.

“Oh, I guess.”

“What’s it from?”

You shrugged, “Don’t remember.”

“That’s not a ‘don’t remember’ bruise,” Dean cut in. “I’ve got plenty of those. That’s a bad one. What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. “I mean, you should see the other guy.”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say. The boys were on their feet in a second, immediately alert.

“Other guy? You were in a fight?” Dean demanded.

“Who was it? Did he hurt you?” Sam asked.

“Does it have anything to do with this?” The three of you turned at Castiel’s question. He was holding up your backpack, which you’d left open, and clearly visible inside were a few stacks of bills; fives, tens, even twenties.

“What…where…did you steal that?” Dean demanded.

“No!” You insisted. “I earned it.” A small smile crept over your face. “You could say I fought for it.”

Sam groaned, but Dean and Cas still seemed confused.

“You what?”

“She started a fight club, Dean,” Sam sighed. “Which was very, very stupid.”

“Stupid?” You scoffed. “It was awesome! I always win, so—“

“So, one day’s gonna come when you don’t,” Sam interrupted. “Your fight skills are not for recreation, Y/N. They’re for self defense.”

“He’s right,” Dean said reluctantly. “Look, this is cool and all, and it looks like something I would’ve done at your age—“ Dean ignored Sam’s glare—“but Sammy’s right. You shouldn’t be using your skills to beat up kids for money, that’s not ok.”

“Says you,” you replied, grabbing your bag and heading for your room.

“Hey.” Sam grabbed your arm. “Kid, c’mon. Promise me no more fight club, ok? I know you think we’re lame for that, and that’s fine. Just promise me.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “I promise.”

Interlude | MYG | Series Masterlist

[Main Masterlist] [Membership]

Pair: Idol!Yoongi x Deaf!reader

Summary: All Yoongi wanted was to use the last few months before enlisting to work on his solo projects, prepare for his tour. When the silence left around him as his members started to go one by one got too loud, he needed to find something else to fill in the void. But Yoongi would never have guessed that it would come in the form of you… Someone he would never expect to fall in love with.

Genre: Series, fluff, angst, smut, idol au.

Warnings: 1. In this story, the main love interest is a deaf woman. While writing this series I have done extensive research so that I could bring this story to light in the most respectful, gentle and loving way possible. Having that said, I am not part of this community myself, so if you are, or someone you know is, and if there’s anything you see throughout this story that is misleading, offensive or simply wrong, in any way, please let me know and I will fix it right away! I’m hoping this story can be inspiring and inclusive, it’s something different from others I have done before. 2. I am still calling this a “Y/N” story and not OC, because other than this, no other characteristics are being used (skin color, eyes, hair, etc). So I ask that you please let go of that mentality that if the character has any kind of special feature that isn’t yours, then it shouldn’t be a ‘YN’ story. It would be impossible to write anything that would be interesting and relatable, if I’m not able to give these characters some characteristics that make them unique. 3. While writing this, I do describe sign language, and I am aware that American Sign Language (ASL) is different from Korean Sign Language (KSL). I tried using KSL as much as I could (this story is based in Seoul, as it’s where BTS/Yoongi live), but I couldn’t find everything I needed by google searching and had to mix ASL as well. So please take the descriptions with a grain of salt. 4. I am not a doctor, so even though I did a lot of research to write this, information about certain procedures, conditions and health issues might be incorrect.

Update: Every monday.

Taglist: Open.

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One

Two

Three.

Four.

Five

More coming soon...

HUSBAND!JIN who proposes to you backstage before a concert. if he was already nervous about the concert, why not add the extra nervousness of the proposal? it was the only logical solution for Jin who, just minutes before he stepped on stage, held you by the hands and simply asked you to marry him, without a ring, without a speech, without an apparatus — just those four words, sparkling eyes and a nervous smile. “i have to go, but first i wanted to ask something. will you marry me?”

HUSBAND!JIN who asks your wedding guests to write a message for you to open on your first anniversary without telling you anything. from table to table, from person to person, Jin made a point of asking all your guests to keep secrets that little surprise, wanting to show you in a year that all the guests, that all the people who were dear and important to you, believed in your love as much as you did — the reassurance that your passion was destined long ago. “i know how important they are to you. i thought you would like to see their love for us in form of written words.”

HUSBAND!JIN who sees an image of two items together and sends you with the caption us in another universe. two cardboard boxes in the trash, two open paint cans, two shiny marbles, there was no limit to Jin's precious heart; it was a strange quality, especially when the objects became more eccentric, but you saved all the images on your phone, smiling when you saw hammers and chandeliers in the middle of your photos with Jin — maybe he was right, you really were those two cowboy hats. “look at these straws! it’s us in another universe, don’t you see?”

HUSBAND!JIN who buys his sweaters with you in mind because he knows you're going to steal them. it was already a habit for Jin to buy clothes with you in mind: with so many shirts and sweaters, your part of the closet was filled with your husband's clothes and it was easy for Jin to know which patterns and colors caught your attention the most; so, Jin's shopping bags were full of clothes for him, yes, but all the colors and patterns were your favorites so that when you steal his clothes you'll feel more beautiful than you already are. “today i went shopping. do you want to see what sweaters i bought? i think you’ll like them.”

HUSBAND!JIN who takes you to ikea to pretend to be a melodramatic couple in a hollywood movie in the kitchen section. you and Jin were happy together, with some arguments occasionally, but nothing that a kiss or apology couldn't fix; but you and Jin also liked the drama, feeling the adrenaline rushing through your veins and forcing you to say gibberish; so, visiting ikea while looking for furniture for the house always ended up in the kitchen section, where between counters and sinks the two of you adopted the role of a long-saturated couple, always ending up in ridiculous arguments that made you laugh. “if we go there now, we can have ten minutes. want to go? we need new chairs anyways.”

HUSBAND!JIN who insists on having a gallery of your photos in the living room of your house. photographs he took of you and you of him, photographs of both you and photographs of the most important moments of your life were forever framed on the white wall of your living room, telling, through bright colors and genuine smiles, your love story to whoever came to visit you — it was Jin's favorite part of the entire house. “i just want everyone to know how our love only grows with each passing moment.”

HUSBAND!JIN who swears that your love is linked by a red thread that will never break. Jin believed that, at the beginning of time, the gods admired the depth of your love and, as such, linked you with a thread with the intention of uniting you in all the lives you lived; it was destiny, it was history, it was true — your love would never end because the thread that united you was created by the most enduring stars in the universe. “in this universe or another. in this life or the next. it doesn't matter where or when. but i will always look for you and i will always love you.”

Are you listening to music right now? (Put the song in the tags)

𝐏𝐎𝐕: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘/𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. gn!reader x adrien agreste, marinette dupain-cheng, luka couffaine, kagami tsurugi (separate)

𝐜𝐰. established relationship, food mention (marinette, kagami), kissing (marinette), probably some inaccuracies (it's been a while since I watched the show)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. repost from my old blog (@/kage7ama)! this one was surprisingly popular so I'm bringing it back :)

𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄—

Though he may have been locked in his room by his father, that didn’t stop you from climbing up to Adrien’s window. You were now resting on his bed, fingers carding through his hair as he laid his head in your lap. There wasn’t much to talk about regarding his Sunday, so while the conversation dropped off, you enjoyed the comfortable silence. His eyes drifted shut, mind being lulled to sleep by the sound of your breathing and the feeling of your fingers on his scalp.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered, thinking he was asleep. “My pretty boy.” You stroked his cheek and his eyes cracked open, nearly startling you. His lips parted in a wide, toothy grin, something you were proud to know that than no photographer could capture. “Always be my pretty boy?” His hand encased yours, pulling it to his lips and kissing along the palm.

“Of course, always.”

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍-𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆—

The baking was coming along well; the macarons were perfect, the afternoon was full of smiles, and it was almost time to eat. Well, first you and Marinette would need to clean up the kitchen, which was a huge mess. There was powdered sugar everywhere and ingredients spread across the countertops.

“No you don’t,” you warned, turning around just in time to catch Marinette about to sneak a macaron into her mouth. She sighed, setting the pastry back down. Her eyes flickered back up to your face and her cheeks reddened. 

“You have something on your face,” she giggled. You brought your fingers up to feel around, but you couldn’t seem to find it, bringing on more of your girlfriend’s laughter.

“Why don’t you… kiss it off for me, then?” She froze, eyes widening like saucers. She sputtered for a moment before coming closer, fingertips ghosting over your arms. She leaned up, raising to her tiptoes, to press a kiss to the right corner of your lips. She leaned back, admiring her work while you admired her. White particles clung to her eyelashes and hairline, smudged across her skin. You tapped the tip of her nose, leaving a spot. She blinked at you in wonder. “My pretty girl,” you murmured, cupping her cheeks and kissing her forehead. You felt her skin grow warm in your palms before she leaned forward, tucking her face in the crook of your neck.

𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄—

“Do I look better with an acoustic or electric guitar?” You looked up from your homework to see Luka standing in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against the frame. You looked at him incredulously before shaking your head and turning back to your homework. 

“Electric? Duh? Have you even touched an acoustic before?” He didn’t respond immediately.

“I don’t think so… you didn’t even answer correctly!” You set the assignment aside, turning your attention to him completely.

“What do you mean? It’s definitely not acoustic.”

“No,” he whined uncharacteristically. “You’re supposed to compliment me!” He tried and failed to mimic your voice, “Oh, Luka, you look good no matter what! You’re so pretty!” You frowned.

“I do not sound like that!” He shrugged exaggeratedly.

“Well, I’m waiting for my compliment.” You rolled your eyes. Luka had his whiny, clingy moments, but it was always worth indulging in his requests.

“I’m sorry, pretty boy.” For a moment you could see the elation dance across his face. His eyes gleamed and he broke into a toothy grin. Quickly hiding his excitement behind a smug expression he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh, I guess I can forgive you.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Hm, I take it back,” you hummed. He glared.

“Okay, be like that.” You turned back to your homework while he stood in your doorway still, arms crossed. After a minute, you sighed, gazing up at him. He chewed his lip.

“Can you… call me pretty boy again?”

𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐈—

Watching Kagami dance across the field, fencing against an imaginary opponent, was much more enjoyable than you thought it would be when you first joined her months ago. Now, her determined expression and fluid movements never failed to awe you as you sat beneath a tree, eyes trained on her figure. After a few quick jabs, she let her body relax, and she made her way over to you to grab her water bottle. 

 “Your mouth is open,” she teased, a small smirk gracing her freckled face. Closing your hanging jaw, you handed over her drink.

“Sorry, you’re just- pretty. Really pretty.” She sunk to the ground beside you, leaning up against your shoulder and humming in acknowledgement. You brushed her bangs aside to see more of her face. “Are you done for the day, pretty girl?” Her cheeks flushed and she gaped at you for a split second, but otherwise didn’t pay it much mind.

“Yes, I am. We should get ice cream.” You pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“Yeah, we should.”

© 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑. do not modify, translate, or repost my works on any platform.

Omg following the last angst piece. What if 14yo John come home all bruised up because he ended up fighting at school bc the other kids bullied him by telling him his dad was a murder.Because y/n and steve never told John exaxtly what happened to his dad

AN: I assume this is stepdad!Steve AU territory! Couldn't help it.

'lies' said the little boy in pain

"Jesus, what happened to you?!"

Steve's stepson walked in through the front door just as he was heading out but he could see that his trip down to the department store had to wait until further notice. A dark bruise forming near John's right eye. Reaching towards the temple, his nose bleeding. What the hell happened at school today? Y/N was going to absolutely flip the moment she comes home from work, Steve held out his hand to the now fourteen year old John. He simply ignoring him and simply headed up the stairs, silent and clearly in pain. Steve runs for the freezer, a bag of frozen corn would help with the swelling.

"John?! Buddy?"

Grabbing a couple of tissues on his way up the stairs, he needed to see about his stepson. He wasn't exactly the best in his field though they were on pretty good terms, he liked being friends with the kid. John has always been upfront and honest with him but something about today just didn't feel right. John's door was wide open, the boy sat on his bed clutching his side. The ribs must've gotten one he'll of a thrashing too. He had a feeling, deep sinking type of feeling.

"They called me 'devil spawn'..."

His dad, the late Eddie Munson.

"Called him a murderer too."

Steve's heart sank, knowing that the kid struggled with himself and the truth about his dad not being out there. Eddie Munson was no killer and he certainly was no Satan. The guy wouldn't hurt a fly, right? For god's sake, he made his one year old son a mix tape. He loved the shit out of this kid, this whole damn town knew that but the refused to see anything past the accusations that flew around when Chrissy died.

"What happened?"

Steve sat down next to him, setting the bag of frozen corn on his stepson head. The tissues crumpled up in his hand, who'd do this to a kid. A fourteen year old, he's still just a child. John has always had a tough time, Steve was thankful for the one friend he did have. Carl was a blessing really, at least he had someone outside of this house. When John wasn't at school or at home he'd be at his grandpa's or he'd be at Carl's. Inseparable those two, it's good.

"They attacked me..."

Steve hums, pressing the tissues into John's open hand. His eyes scanned the room, Y/N was right. The kid was just like his dad, wasn't enough that he looked like a miniature Eddie but he inherited his music taste. There were posters on the ceiling, on the wall above his bed. A guitar leaning on an amp in the corner, old photographs of his mom and dad pinned to the walls. He had so much of him still around, Eddie might be gone but he's never really left. Steve promised he'd look after them now that he had them, Eddie deserved better. John deserves better.

"By the looks of it, you won."

John sniffled, wiping his nose with the tissues. Steve opened his arms open, here go his cool stepdad points.

"Hey, come here."

John leans into him, allowing Steve to hug him. He knew the boy was in pain, no one was to know about what had really happened all those years ago. The upside down was gone, closed and everyone moved on. Henderson went to college, moved away. So did Max, Lucas and the Wheelers. Nancy is in New York and Jonathan is doing god knows what in California. No-one stuck around, Steve did. He stuck around, Robin was here but she lived in Indianapolis. She visits though, that's something. Gareth, Jeff and Dan stuck around for a little while but they're gone, somewhere up in Denver at the moment. Moving around, they call and sends postcards sometimes. John would do better in another town, Steve has been trying to get them out of Hawkins. Looking at places in the city, maybe further away. Y/N didn't want to leave due their house, she didn't want to leave Wayne but they could take the old man too or he could visit. No one's stopping that man from seeing his grandson, even though he is actually his uncle. Wayne was the closest Eddie had to an actual dad so grandpa made more sense. Steve hugs John tightly, stroking his back.

"It's okay- They won't ever know just how good of a person your dad was but your mom and I know. We know."

The government didn't successfully cover it up, useless bastards. Sure, the charges were dropped against him but the people of Hawkins refused to believe that Eddie was innocent. John wasn't treated nicely by people, the adults hardly looked at him. The children? Another story. Kids are assholes, Steve's allowed to say that since he had to babysit six of them back in the day. He's allowed.

"I just want people to love him too."

His heart broke, there were people who loved Eddie Munson. Steve could promise him that, he had a whole group of people who still loved and will forever love him.

"I know."

John hugs him back, Steve needed to help him now. Keep him safe.

oh god!!Please do this with more idols

Gyaru Bangchan.

Hoje faço 2 anos de Tumblr! 🥳

!BTS MASTERLIST ㅤㅤ↬┊genre: headcanons. ㅤㅤ↬┊series status: on going.

↬┊pre-boyfriend!BTS ... fluff ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. yoongi.ㅤ⋆ㅤjungkook.ㅤ⋆ㅤnamjoon. ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. hoseok.ㅤ⋆ㅤjimin.ㅤ⋆ㅤseokjin.ㅤ⋆ㅤtaehyung.

↬┊boyfriend!BTS ... fluff ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. yoongi.ㅤ⋆ㅤjungkook.ㅤ⋆ㅤnamjoon. ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. hoseok.ㅤ⋆ㅤjimin.ㅤ⋆ㅤseokjin.ㅤ⋆ㅤtaehyung.

↬┊husband!BTS ... fluff ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. yoongi.ㅤ⋆ㅤjungkook.ㅤ⋆ㅤnamjoon. ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. hoseok.ㅤ⋆ㅤjimin.ㅤ⋆ㅤseokjin.ㅤ⋆ㅤtaehyung.

↬┊soulmate!BTS ... fluff ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. yoongi.ㅤ⋆ㅤjungkook.ㅤ⋆ㅤnamjoon. ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. hoseok.ㅤ⋆ㅤjimin.ㅤ⋆ㅤseokjin.ㅤ⋆ㅤtaehyung.

↬┊parent!BTS ... fluff ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. yoongi.ㅤ⋆ㅤjungkook.ㅤ⋆ㅤnamjoon. ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. hoseok.ㅤ⋆ㅤjimin.ㅤ⋆ㅤseokjin.ㅤ⋆ㅤtaehyung.

↬┊ex-boyfriend!BTS ... angst ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. yoongi.ㅤ⋆ㅤjungkook.ㅤ⋆ㅤnamjoon. ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. hoseok.ㅤ⋆ㅤjimin.ㅤ⋆ㅤseokjin.ㅤ⋆ㅤtaehyung.

↬┊second-chance!BTS ... hurt/comfort ㅤㅤㅤ⚘. yoongi.ㅤ⋆ㅤjungkook.

Eddie was having a crisis. Yeah, sure there was a monster straight out of his d&d manual stalking it's way to his little ragtag group but that's not what's got his heart in his throat (okay, it does a little).

No, it's you, the way you drove your car. How you casually sped down the road, slammed the brakes and fishtailed around to hit the monster, sending it flying into the trees opposite. How you stepped out of your car, leaving the engine running and door open as you saunted over to the boot looking like you hadn't a care in the world. How you easily popped the trunk, whistling softly, uncaring that the monster was righting itself and readying another attack. How you loaded the shotgun and with only moments to spare as the monster lunged at you, raised it and fired.

It was the way you turned to them, crooked smile and shotgun resting on your shoulder, that had his heart stuttering and he knew he was already gone for you.

Y/N sitting outside in the sun clearly hot, sweating

Castiel to Sam: "Why does Y/N not come inside? It's clear she's uncomfortable"

Sam shaking his head: "She found a new way to make money, apparently she sells her sweaty clothes to someone on the internet"

Dean rushing in with a smirk: "Oh man new merch coming my way"

Sam and Castiel look at each other

Castiel: "I will never understand humans"

Sam: "I'm starting to agree with you Cas."

a remedy for mondays 02 (m)

➾ 12.6k

➾ please read part 01 first!! 

➾ summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

➾ warnings: SMUT, risky unprotected sex (pls be safe!), one night stand, oral sex (m&f), cum fetish/ cum eating (m), creampies, public bj, impregnation kink, baby making dirty talk, switch jimin. 

➾ a/n: happy monday (at least for me)!!!! the smut is finally here u guys… i feel like im making up for lost time lmaooo ok but real talk there’s a lot more to come in the future. once again, i wanna express my undying love for @jimlingss. without her, half of what’s in this fic would not exist c: 

love you guys. have a good week ahead 💓

Continuar lendo

BTS as your boyfriend

How I imagine the BTS members would act around you as your partners.

Warnings: Fluff and smut

Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST // my Ko-Fi

KIM NAMJOON

SFW

Always keeps an eye on you: As we all know, Namjoon is one of the best leaders there is in K-Pop, and, as a good leader would, he keeps an eye on the members to check if they need anything or if they’re okay. You’re not the exception. In fact, he’ll double that attentive feeling. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s controlling you. No. He’s just simply to enamoured with you that he can’t help but worry about his girl and check on her any chance he gets. 

Asks for your opinion on how he should dress: Nam had always been pretty confident when it came to fashion, until you came along. Now, all he cares about is impressing you. He’d never admit that, though. He just wants his girl to coo at him and tell him he’s pretty. 

Asks if you had something to eat: He’ll never forget, and when I mean never forget, to send a text asking you if you’d eaten. When the answer’s yes, his chest would fill with relief and unconsciously smile, sending you praise words. If the answer’s no, he’d get a little mad, and maybe scold you a little bit, sending you those texts while he parks his car in front of a convenience store to buy something for both of you to eat.

Hugs you from behind: Nam will see you, in the kitchen, preparing some food for the both of you or just cleaning, whipping some breakfast, whatever you’re doing, and he’ll go behind you and wrap his arms around you, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your neck. 

Tries his hardest to make you smile 24/7: Kim Namjoon is a well-known people pleaser, so it is obvious that he’ll try his hardest to make you comfortable and smile every single time he has the chance. Even if it means putting himself in an uncomfortable position, he’ll selflessly put you first, because you’re his priority, and give you what you want. Because he loves you so much.

Nicknames for you: Babe, Cutie (that’s so Nam), Hon (short for honey)

NSFW

He’s a tease: As I said before, whenever he hugs you from behind, if he woke up with a hard on, he’ll press it against your ass while he mouths at the skin of your neck. “Someone woke up excited this morning” you’d say. Oh, you have no idea. In other situations, out in public, he’d put his hand on your thigh, rubbing it up and down, trying to play nonchalant. But you both know that he’s a little shit and he’s only trying to rile you up.

Favourite position: Cowgirl. Definitely. As someone who leads a boyband, being in charge can be tiring, so he’ll give up his leadership and give it to you in the bedroom. He’s not complaining though. His view from down there is heavenly. 

Aftercare: He’s a sucker for aftercare. He likes to shower you with praise words after he’s cleaned you up while he wraps his arms around you as he pulls you close to him.

Loves getting head: He won’t admit it freely, but I feel like Nam goes weak when he sees you drop to your knees in front of him to suck him off. He’ll go even weaker when you’d look up at him, giving him doe teary eyes while your tongue is wrapped around him.

KIM SEOKJIN

SFW

Teases you every single time: I mean… is it that obvious? The man’s a born teaser. I think that’s his love language. He wouldn’t act like that around anyone. He’d see you lazing around, comfortably, and he’d feel the need to pull lightly on your hair, drawing a pout from you as he smiles while leaning forward to kiss it away. 

Loves to make you laugh: The joker of the group would always try his hardest to make you laugh. He knows you love his absolutely dumb jokes and he loves that you love them. 

Saves you from embarrassment: Seokjin is a person that’s not easily embarrassed, but you are. Whenever he sees your cheeks flushed and looking away, he’ll put himself in your position and embarrass himself three times more. You fell down the stairs? Don’t worry! Jin will fall down with you and laugh about it as soon as your asses plop on the floor. You told an unfunny joke and nobody laughed? No biggie. Your boyfriend’s there to be the loudest laugh in the room. 

Holds your hand during horror movies: He’s not the biggest fan of horror movies, but he’ll suffer through them for you. He’ll hold your hand when a jumpscare comes up and soaks in the feeling of you wrapping your arms around him as you yelp in surprise. It’ll probably happen once or twice that he’ll be the one to jump on top of you because he got scared lol. 

Takes you on fishing dates: Seokjin loves fishing, we all know it. And he loves you. So why not combine the two things he loves? He’ll teach you how to pull on the fishing rod, how to stake the bait through the hook, how to store the fish once it’s already out, you name it. He’ll take any chance he gets to take pictures of you while your hair flies around everywhere with the wind and you smile mindlessly. He’s just so in love with you. 

Nicknames: Sweetheart, Girlfriend (I so imagine him going, “hey, girlfriend” and you replying, “Hey boyfriend”), Babe

NSFW:

Straight to the bedroom after he comes from tour: He’ll get back home and the first thing he does is carry you all the way to your shared bed and start pulling your clothes off. He’ll ask you how your week has been during the post-sex bath he’d run for the both of you.

Favourite position: Spooning. He’ll spoon you from behind and slip his shaft inside you, holding your hips in place while he thrusts against you, making you grasp onto the pillows tightly. He’ll whisper obscenities and kiss your neck as he fucks you hard. 

Handholding: He loves to hold your hand during intimacy. He loves to feel more than just that type of connection with you during sex. You’d feel your stomach swarming with butterflies when you feel his fingers caressing yours delicately. 

Choking: He’s definitely into it. Absolutely. He has really nice hands so he will obviously take advantage of them as he wraps his long ass fingers around your throat, applying pressure on it, eliciting long moans from you. 

MIN YOONGI

SFW: 

Tells you he loves you without words: Yoongi’s someone who has a difficult time showing affection towards others, so he’s more into showing his love with actions. He’ll see you’ve fallen asleep on the couch and he’d smile, pulling a blanket over you so that you don’t get cold. You’d wake up in your shared bed, and you’d look around, confused as to why you’ve suddenly appeared out of nowhere there. You’d walk to the kitchen and find him cooking some ramen and you’d ask, after you greet him. “I fell asleep on the couch, I think I sleepwalked to the bed and-”, “Oh no, you didn’t. I took you there. Figured you didn’t want a sore neck like last time” he said, so nonchalantly, an action that was born out of him so spontaneously. 

“Come home, Holly misses you” texts: He’ll never admit he’s missing you, so he’ll project his feelings onto the little poodle you two call your pet. You’d smirk and text back: “Be right there, honey. Don’t want Holly to miss me too much ;)” . He’ll reply with a: “Yeah, he misses you so much it’s killing him, so hurry up!”

Writes songs for you:  Our favourite producer, singer-songwriter would definitely take advantage of his muse and write endless amounts of songs about her (you). Yoongi would get shy about them but he’ll work up the courage and show them to you, because he feels you deserve to have billions of songs written about you. “You wrote a song about me?!” you’d squeal. He’d look down and hide his blush. “Yeah… it’s no big deal”. Um, yes, it is!

You’re his weakness: Yoongi is an impenetrable person. He doesn’t have any weaknesses. Until you came along. He’ll be in his studio, a frown streaked across his face, and you’d walk inside the room and a gummy smile would automatically plaster into his face. “Hi, baby!” you’d coo and he’d just blush, his face completely red but his heart would be close to jump out of his chest. On another occasion, the members would be pressuring him about going somewhere and Yoongi would shake his head. “Y/N said she’s coming” Namjoon remembers. Yoongi’s head whips up and would smile a little. “Really?” he’d murmur. His friends would not let that go. 

Craves your touch: You are the only one who’d he’d let cling all over him. In fact, he loves it. Yoongi suddenly realises he’s so freaking touch starved, he’d start to be the clingy one in the relationship. You’d be watching a movie and both of his arms are around you, bringing you comfort. 

Nicknames: Jagiya (Korean word for “baby”), Beautiful, Angel

NSFW

Mean dom: I mean… are we even surprised? He’d be pissed off about something (when is he not lol) and he’d just grab your legs, throw you into any position of his liking and start fucking you into oblivion while he holds you down. “You wanna come? You gotta earn it”. He has his soft side, of course, when he’s feeling all romantic but he’d still be the one to lead in the bedroom. 

Favourite position: Hear me out: Sitting in front of a mirror. Yeah. He’d just love to have you all spread out on your cock as he watches you, with your head pressed against his shoulder while his hands run all over your body, gripping, slapping and caressing. He wouldn’t know what to do with so much skin to touch, he’d go crazy. 

Oral lover: Mr. Tongue Technology is the best at it and he knows it. He’d plaster his face onto your core and insert his tongue, letting it work its magic, while you squirm around and clench the sheets. Yoongi would smirk into your cunt and look up at you. “How’s that, jagiya?” and your response would be a high pitched moan. 

Fingering: Yeah, with those veiny big ass hands, who wouldn’t? Yoongi doesn’t care where you two are. It could be on the plane, with all of the members in front of you, he’s sneak his hand underneath the blanket covering both of you and rub the pads of his fingers over your clothed pussy. “Yoongi… the others-“ you’d start whispering but he’d silence you with a kiss as he moves your underwear to the side and inserts his two fingers in and out, scissoring and rubbing your clit with his thumb in tight circles. Your nails would dig into his arm and hide your face into his neck, while his face would remain with the most nonchalant expression ever. 

JUNG HOSEOK

SFW

Sunshine of the relationship: Mr. Sunshine would never let you feel down. If you’re feeling like crying, he’d be the one to give you his shoulder and then, he’d take you out to your favourite restaurant, treat you with a nice meal and then take you to an ice cream parlour just to see you smile. 

Buys you loads of clothes: Hobi is someone who has an addiction to shopping, and because he’s always thinking about you, whenever he’s out to a shopping trip to the mall (which is once in a week at least), he’d probably buy more clothes for you than for him because, “Look at this dress, darling! I just pictured you wearing this dress while we have a picnic by the lake and I just had to buy it for you” he excuses himself while you were about to give him shit for spending so much on you. Of course, he uses that excuse with every single article of clothing he pulls out of the bag. 

He’d go to the gym for you: “Nooo… please, let’s just stay at home and watch Mean Girls together” he’d plead. You’d just laugh, standing with your gym bra and leggings. You had been telling Hobi about the new gym that opened up down the block and you made him promise you you’d both go and try it. “You promised me we’d go” you whined. He just looks at you and sees your puppy eyes, bottom lip out in a pouting manner. Fuck you for being so adorable. “Fine… okay. But we are ordering Kimchi and we’ll watch Mean Girls”

Café dates: I feel like Hoseok is the type of person to see a cute café and go there, no second thoughts. You two would have a list of cute cafés (kudos if it is a cat café) and every week you try one or two from the list. You two use that list as an excuse to just go out and do couples shit, because you both love spending time together. 

Gallery filled with your photos: “Yo, Hobi, there’s no space in your phone anymore” Jimin would tell him, as he had asked him for his phone to take a picture. Hobi would grab his phone, confused. As he clicked on the gallery icon, he’d see the amount of pictures in them and how 97% of them are photos of you. You on dates, asleep, with Mickey, just you. He’d look up at Jimin and shrug, sheepishly. He’s not deleting those pictures. He’ll just buy a new phone and fill it with more pictures of you. 

Nicknames: Darling, Babe, Sweetie

NSFW: 

High sex drive: Okay, so, one thing that is characteristic of sunshine personalities is the capability of having such a high amount of energy. In the bedroom, that’s not an exception. Hoseok can pull all nighters, no doubt. He’s into quickies as well, I’d say. He doesn’t matter the situation or whatever you’re wearing. Just your pretty face will turn him on and he can go anywhere, anytime. 

Favourite position: Bent over. He’ll like to bend you over any surface and just take you. He’s a hair puller for sure. Maybe a little spanking, but I don’t see him being such a huge fan of it. 

Aftercare: Like Nam, I think he considers aftercare very important and a moment where he finds a true connection with you. He finds sex is more enjoyable when there’s love shown afterwards. He wants you to know that he would never use you like that and honestly? He gets cuddly after the deed so…

Love-making Lover: Even if he enjoys fucking you hard and making you scream, lover-boy loves a good round of just romantic sex. Face to face, while his hands are everywhere, as he whispers against your neck just how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you. 

PARK JIMIN

SFW:

Gets shy around you: He’d get all flustered when he sees you. Of course, you’d poke fun at him, baby-talking to him while he just giggles and hides his face against your neck, his face in a full red shade as you just cackle at his antics. 

Naps on your chest: Jimin would lay on your chest, face squished between your boobs and nap for hours if you’d let him. He’s never felt more comfortable than feeling your body heat, heating up through his shirt, with his arms around you, holding you close, as you card your fingers through his hair while he immediately falls into a deep slumber.

Cheek kisses: I feel like Jimin is the type of person who has his arms wrapped around you 24/7 and his mouth is always pressed against your cheek. He loves to press his nose against your cheek and whisper sweet things to you, like “You are so beautiful, my love”, “Have I told you how much I love you today?” all while he presses his thousandth kiss of the day against your cheek. And it’s only noon. 

Hides his jealousy: I don’t think Jimin would get jealous but if he sees you cozying up with somebody, he’d never tell you, because he’d hate to create unnecessary drama between you two, but he’d be a little insecure about it. Just the thought of you leaving him is enough to make him cry. You’d notice, like the best girlfriend you are, and you’d reassure him. “You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna choose you over somebody else, Chim” you’d whisper into his neck as he pretends he’s asleep (against your chest, obviously). He’d slightly smile, trying to continue pretending he’s sleeping, but he’s the happiest person on earth to hear those reassuring words. 

Sensible lover: He’s so understanding when it comes to feelings. He’d never overshadow them or push them aside, he’ll always be the most empathetic person ever and listen to you, and try to help you with all his might. Jimin also knows you like the palm of his hand so don’t even try to hide your feelings from him. He knows when you need to hit a pause and break down a little. 

Nicknames: My love (of course), lover, honey

NSFW: 

Shower sex: Jimin loves a good round of shower sex. It depends on the mood, but he can be a gentle lover or somebody who’d just press your body against the tiles and leave your legs shaking as you come while he has you hoisted up in his arms. He’ll wash you afterwards, his soft and gentle hands running the soap all over your body as he drops a few kisses over your skin. 

Favourite position: Missionary. He loves seeing your face contorted in pleasure while he kisses you with his plump lips. 

Oral for both of you: He’d be into 69 for sure. It’s not something that he’d do every day, but he knows he loves when you give him head and absolutely loves destroying your cunt with his tongue and fingers. But he’d love to have you on his face, as he inserts his tongue inside of you while you choke on his dick. 

Lots of sweet talk: I feel like Jimin is so romantic and a person that, when he falls in love, he falls hard, that he needs to voice those thoughts. So, when he’s deep inside of you, those thoughts will spill themselves. He can't help it. You feel so good and he loves you so much.

KIM TAEHYUNG

SFW:

Car drives late at night: Tae loves listening to music while driving with you, while he holds your hand or just grips your thigh, rubbing it up and down. You don’t need a destination or a reason to get the car keys and go for a drive, you both know you love each other’s company and honestly, who doesn’t love Taehyung’s sweet, deep voice as he sings along to your favourite songs. “What are you staring at?” he’d chuckle. “You” you whisper. He’d smile at you and pulls you into a sweet short kiss.

Gifting: It’s kind of like his love language. And it could be any type of gift. Two tickets to a museum (an excuse to have a date with you), a pair of earrings he saw you eyeing a few days ago, or he’d be the kind of boyfriend to restock your favourite snacks, buy your body wash, lotions or perfumes when he sees you’re running out of them. “Tae… why did you buy three boxes of perfume?” you’d ask. He’d turn around and smile, “Oh, I saw it was almost running out and thought I could get you a new one”. He’d never admit it out loud but he loves your scent and he wants to smell that perfume on you for the rest of his life. 

Facetiming: If he’s on tour, he’ll facetime in his freetime. He can’t go that long without seeing your pretty face or hearing your sweet voice he loves so much. While you rant about your day, Tae will just stare with a goofy smile at your face as he thinks how fucking lucky he is he found you. 

Flirts in front of his friends: A subtle way of telling everyone “she’s mine” is flirting shamelessly in front of everybody. He’ll have his hand on your waist and grip it tightly while he sometimes brush his hand up and down towards your ass. “Did you watch that rom-com that I recommended you last night?” one of your friends would ask, and before you could answer, Tae would say: “Nah, we were too busy last night” he’d smirk. “Ew” Hoseok would scrunch his nose while you hit his shoulder. “Hey! It’s not my fault you’re hot!”

Morning kisses: Tae would be the type of boyfriend who wakes you up giving you a full shower of kisses. He’d murmur a “Good morning, my muse” with a soft kiss to your cheek as you open your eyes, his pretty face blinding you almost. You’d immediately smile and his heart would be close to bust out of his chest. 

Nickname: Muse, baby, beautiful

NSFW

Desperate: Tae is someone who’s passionate and he’s desperate for connection. He’d be the type to throw you into the bed after quickly discarding both your clothes and fucking you raw and frantically. He loves skin-to-skin contact and it sends him into orbit how you are just as desperate for him as he is for you. 

Favourite position: All fours and riding. He loves both of them. He just can’t choose. He loves having you on his bed, with your face pressed against his sheets while your ass bounce against his hips and he grips your hair. But, as well, he loves sitting on the couch and having you giving him the ride of his life every single time. His face would be pressed against your chest as he sucks at your nipples and moans against them. 

Boob lover: Yes, of course. Taehyung would prefer boobs before ass every single time. It doesn’t need to be during a sexual innuendo to grab at your boobs, sometimes he falls asleep while his hands are filled with your boobs. But yes, he’s a man after all, and he loves gripping, twisting and sucking on your tits because he’d die a happy man between those. 

Hickeys: That’s a total yes for him. It’s another way to stake his claim on you, a way to show everyone that he’s the one responsible for that sweet assault on your neck. “Oh my God, Y/N! Who did that?” one of your friends would gasp as they tried to hide their laughter. You’d turn your head and find Taehyung with a shit-eating grin. “All me” he’d proudly state like a little shit. 

JEON JUNGKOOK

SFW: 

Cries after a fight: Jungkook is such a sensible little man and he’d be so hurt after a fight. He hates fighting in general, but what he’d hate even more is fighting with you, the love of his life. He’d regret everything as soon as it's over and immediately try to apologise, even if it wasn’t his fault to begin with. You’d feel bad as you see him almost on his knees and those doe eyes filled with tears. It’d bring you to tears yourself and the night would end up with both of you cuddled in bed as you reassure the other how much you love each other. 

Princess treatment: Absolutely. You are his little princess, and that means he gets to spoil you with gifts, carry your shoes if they make your feet hurt, piggyback rides if you’re feeling tired, dates at luxurious restaurants, you name it. 

Clingy: Jungkook’s clingy. We all know it. But who wouldn’t love it? He’d bring you with him on tour (after he’d begged and begged to his knees to the staff to let you come with him) and he’d keep you around him all the time. You’d get a little scared the members might find you annoying or overwhelming for him, as you’re always there, but they know Jungkook needs you close all the time, so they’re fine and happy for their maknae. 

Loves to see you wearing his clothes: He feels his knees get weak when he sees you wearing his shirt, as it goes past your knees while you rub your eyes from sleep. He unconsciously bites his lip while you don’t notice the way he’s lusting over you at 8 in the morning. 

Spams your phone with selfies: He’ll either steal your phone and when you grab it, you’ll find he took about 200 pictures, making silly faces or pouting cutely or he’ll just send the same amount of selfies when he’s away. He knows it annoys you but deep down he also knows you love having so many pictures of your pretty boyfriend you love so much. 

Nicknames: Princess, baby, jagiya.

NSFW

Dirty talk: He’s so into it, he’d not only whisper it, he’d just say it straight to your face, making you clench around nothing. “You wanna suck my cock, yeah?” he’d moan. “Yeah, fuck, you’re so tight, baby”. “Look at how dumb my cock is making you”

Favourite position: Against the wall. Man’s a gym-bro so he’ll obviously take advantage of that so that he can press you against the nearest wall and hammer your sweet spot, making your arousal squirt out of you with how hard he likes fucking you. 

Slapping: Are we surprised? We’ve all seen the butt obsession he has and you wouldn’t be the exception. Your ass would be red and sore by the time he’s done with you. He’d love slapping it as he fucks you from behind, when you’re doing the most mundane things like brushing your teeth, cooking or bending down to pick up a fallen object. “Hey!” you’d squeal. “Sorry, your ass looked so tempting, babe”. I think, if you’re okay with it, he’d slap your face with his palm or his cock. He loves seeing you whine when he does it and how your cheek starts turning red from the stinging. 

Biting: Jungkook likes biting a lot and loves giving you hickeys all over your body. He also loves getting bitten as well, especially his nipples. 

run, beautiful, run yeah, you gotta run

RUN BTS - YTC IN BUSAN cr. @jung-koook

j.jk, mon amour.

pairings. jungkook x reader genres. smut x small fluff

warnings. vulgar language, sexual themes, mentions of smoking, soft dom!jungkook, clit simulation, unprotected sex wrap up!, missionary, cock-warming . . may be a few grammar errors, sry :p

j.. stream never let go :(( my baby so cute. might take a mini break from posting soon cs i've got lots to do that's more important than writing at the moment... anyway, here's your smut my loves. would love a comment, like, reblog. enjoy :)

a restless night where jungkook can’t sleep for the life of him. he smoked, which only had him a little buzzed. he tried drinking a cup of camomile tea, relaxing on the balcony . . yet nothing was working.

groaning, he flips onto his side, facing your sleeping state. he raises a hand to gently cup your cheek and brushes a strand of hair away from lying across your cute nose. places a kiss there.

it’s a selfish way to think, but he wanted nothing but for you to be awake with him.

“baby,” jungkook whispers, resting his head on the large, white pillow your face is planted on. “babyy,” he tries again, his index finger gently poking your hip. “amour, wake up,” he whispers a little louder, a pout on his mouth.

finally, your eyes fluttered open, all big and round with puffiness to the skin around your eyes. that makes jungkook giggle, a goofy smile on his lips. “kook?” you manage to murmur out, leaning forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “mmpf— ‘m so sleepy,” you add.

your bother-of-a-boyfriend laughs softly, “so sleepy,” he mocks, a horrible attempt to make his voice equally as whiny and grumpy as yours, awakening a small scowl on your face.

the small strikes of thunder in the dark outside shine through the window, creating a gentle shadow on the features that make up such a lovely face. you blink your eyes towards the window, seeing heavy rain drop from the outside of the clear glass.

“it’s raining?” you ask, and jungkook nods with a hum. “yes, baby, it’s raining. you like rain, don’t ya?”

sneaking a hand between your thighs, prying them open, you gasp at the contact of his fingers pressing against your clit, the fabric of your panties creating an upsetting division. you whine, jutting your hips against the provided friction. “shhh, gon’ make y’feel good,” he claims, shifting atop you.

he peels the fabric to the side, sinks his fingers in your dewy folds and collects a glob of essence, bringing his fingers up to your throbbing nub, rubbing at a painfully slow pace. “don’t tease me or ‘m gonna fall asleep.”

jungkook rolls his eyes, considering your drowsyness. ridding himself of his sweats and tugging his boxers to sit underneath his aching balls, he presses the swollen tip against your leaking cunt, slowly sinking into you with a groan.

a hand holds his body up by your head, to which you wrap your fingers around his wrist. his necklace lightly dangles over your face, making jungkook chuckle over you. his hips form a slow pace, before shifting into one faster and rougher. “awh, shit.”

you let out soft, shaky whimpers and mumbles, ones that jungkook nor you can understand. “feels s’good, baby . .” you gasp, feeling a knot forming in your tummy, your legs shaking as you toss your head back.

drool slides out of your agape mouth, back arching off the mattress as he, somehow, manages to plunge deep into your soppy, little hole. lewd squelches of your pussy fills your ears, bringing you closer and closer to your release.

“ju-jungkook, ‘m gonna cu—” you stutter, sucking in a sharp breath of air as you cream all over his shaft, your hands gently digging into his tattooed forearm, emitting a low hiss from him.

“that's it, baby, fuck yes!” jungkook lets out a loud groan, bottoming out, coating your walls white. he pulls out ‘til the tip’s still inside, watching the mixture of both yours and his come ooze out of your pussy before shoving it back into you.

he sighs, pressing a kiss onto your lips while he sinks down beside you, still buried in you as he wraps his arms around your waist. “go sleep, amour,” he says, in which you nod and smile.

© ckhaine 2024. all rights reserved.

✧˖ ?! — I LOVE TO LOVE YOU! (SMUTTY)

summary. agreeing to finally spend the weekend over at your boyfriends, you find him clingier (& hornier) than ever!

notes. let me tell you i've been STRUGGLING w writers block but i just wanted to give yall smth bc i have like 2 TOUGH weeks of exams coming up :( so i do hope you enjoy, much love!!! ₊˚⊹

warnings/includes. bf bf non idol? jungkook x f! reader, he's clingy & horny so basically the summary!, established relationship (she just doesn't live w him), a drabble, giving head + kitchen sex mentioned

when you once again agreed to spend the two free days with jungkook, you were as always not prepared for him rotting around you the whole time.

it didn't matter where you were — preparing something for dinner? you bet your ass he was hugging you from behind, evidently slowing down your cooking progress, giggling manically. typing it away on your laptop, trying to get a school paper done? he'll magically show up from behind (you swear you did NOT hear any footsteps), closing the laptop carefully while leaning over the chair to place tiny kisses down your neckline, mumbling something about you not being supposed to work since the weekend was there for him to love you.

and let me tell you: jeon jungkook takes his loving towards you during saturday and sunday (pun intended) VERY seriously. I'm telling you: consider yourself lucky if he even lets you out of bed!

he has to have his hands on you 24/7 and if he doesn't he'll swear he might just die at least that's what he always says.

you have to take 'he loves to love you' pretty literally because when it comes to jungkook and your special little weekends together, he always always puts your pleasure first.

jungkook bets he could eat your pussy for hours at a time and he'll go to many lengths to prove just that, he'll overstimulate you on accident- and then looks up to you with his boba eyes all inoccently like he actually didn't mean it.

i swear he always gets a boner around you! and he'll full on blame you for it! 'it's just cause you look like that!' adorned with that silly pout but be careful with how you respond- he might just fuck you on the kitchen counter... that man has no mercy.

all the way at night on saturday, when he's done with you, tucked you into bed, snuggled up to you all tightly, he'll whisper: "it's so sad that you don't live with me" into the air, every fucking time.

but maybe it was good that only those two days belonged to him since you really didn't knew what kind of animalistic human you'd turn into if you did the things you did together, seven days a week.

Their S/o Has An Alternative Style

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How the members would react to their S/o having an alternative/emo/grunge style

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: Although I think he tends to prefer slightly more ‘girly’ styles, and might’ve been slightly intimidated at first, he can’t deny that he kinda loves how badass you look and comes to be a big fan of your style.

Yoongi: He doesn’t really have a preference what kind of style his partner has, so long as they’re happy and comfortable, but I do think he would secretly think you look kinda cool.

Hobi: I think he’d be pretty into it! He personally prefers more of the streetwear style, but he can definitely appreciate the vibe/look you’re going for.

Namjoon: Similar to Yoongi, I think he’s pretty neutral about his partner’s style, unless it was like super elaborate, but even then he still loves that you have your own unique style.

Jimin: I think I’ve said before that he tends to prefer softer, cuter looks, but he would absolutely love this! He loves how cool and edgy you look(might even borrow a few pieces too if you let him)

Taehyung: I actually think he would really love it? Like he has his own distinct style, so he would love that you have your own specific look too.

Jungkook: I’m sorry, I think you just described his soulmate? Like this is his perfect aesthetic, and having a partner that shares his style would just have him like 😍 He loves it, no question.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz