#( i watched the scene again to see if i missed it )

[deangril]

Hello, Dean

[tnigirl]

CHIHIRO. 00. IS THAT HER?

warnings!!!!!: abuse, drugs, alcohol, violence, filming without permission, sexual content, language, mentions of wanting to smoke, vivienne is actually going crazy.

author note: no matter how much i write i just feel it isn’t long enough. first chapter and the drama already starts, while writing this i became very aware that this is going to be a rough series, but like u guys requested, it’s definitely going to be a good ending.

drugs and alcohol filled the burning nostrils of vivienne, her last failed attempt to do a shot choking on it embarrassingly and coming out again this time from her nose, she couldn’t breath because of the current water fall coming from the bottom of her nose making her head lean down looking at dirty floor coughing uncontrollably while her friend, serena laughed out loud not caring to help her friend.

after calming down and washing deeply her nose. her phone rang loudly in her pocket, a different tone making her attention drift directly taking her phone out of her back pocket, the screen lighting because of the sudden movement, a new massege making its presence.

p 💗

when r u coming back?

i miss u

suddenly, viv forgot about her burning nostrils and the sound of some drunk girls spilling their guts on the dirty toilets. swiping upwards and clicking on the massage.

p 💗

when r u coming back?

i miss u

viv

not today, maybe tomorrow

a smile started to creep its way in vivs face even though it was the simplest message she could receive from paige, but she didn’t care, she was happy for what she receives, coming from the paige bueckers, everything was enough.

before she could type something and not let the conversation die, she got a message, this time it wasn’t paige, it was an unknown number, a drive file attached to it and before viv could process the message, a second one came up.

unknown number

*video*

yoo, is this ur girl?

viv questioned herself wondering if it was a good idea to click on the video on it, scared if it was virus or even a sketchy site. probably some jerks trying to pull out a prank on random people just to get a good time while the person getting prank got a bad one, but who cares about the outside world when your having fun.

her finger tried to makes it way to the screen, just a few inches away to uncover the disgusting true.

the video quickly started, the first few seconds were in totally black, some whispers could be heard but not clearly enough, then, she could hear some mumbling, in a type of hazzy, even drunken tone. before she could press her phone to her ear and hear what all the mumbling was about, she was welcome with a series of moans, sweet little ones. she didn’t care if the other women could hear her, or think that she was watching porn in a public place. the flash of the phone focused a really drunk girl, clearly not aware of her surroundings, her body was pushed forwards when the thrusting begin and her whimpers started to get louder, the cámara now focused her pussy getting brutally penetrated that it didn’t even look pleasuring at all. from the angle showed, viv could see that the one abusing the girl was definitely not a guy, she could get a slim glance of a black harness surrounding the persons waist, the camara made its way behind the abusers back, action that made viv shock ,the scene unraveled a long, blonde hair failing gracefully down the girls back, she recognized that girl, a girl she sworn she was almost in a serious relationship in, but of course, she had fallen into paige’s bueckers famous monopoly, she couldn’t bring herself to admit that she had stupidly fallen into a trap everybody worn her about.

falling into a dark hole she was very aware of wasn’t her main thought right now “is that?” serena’s calming voice entered the bubble that viv made fully concentrated in the girls hair that she didn’t even notice that the video had ended “paige.” vivienne assured before breaking into tears, this action making her phone slip thru her hands and crash landing on the floor letting out a painfull sound.

serenas first reaction to her friend break down in front of her, was to grab her. she reached out to viv’s waist and hugged tight “i hate to say this but..” serena took a shaky breath before continuing “we told you, viv. she is no good.” serena muttered into the ears of the brown haired girl.

“i-i know but.. i thought she would be different.” vivienne’s voices echoed through the white and now abandoned bathroom. serena’s grip on her waist became tight and tried to make her walk away from the bathroom, not before grabbing viv’s phone that was vibrating because of the new notifications.

p 💗

stop teasing

im serious

leilei ❤️‍🩹

hey

i heard about the video

you alright?

i know the girl who is being literally fucked up

Snapchat

you have a new friend suggestion!

serena carefully slipped back viv’s phone into her jacket pocket and leaded her out of the club and into her car.

vivenne couldn’t process what just happened in the bar bathroom, she only remembers how serena leaded her into her apartment and slipped out her shoes for her. she grabbed her phone glancing at the broken screen, it wasn’t that bad, it was enough for it to keep working and also to get a thousand of notifications. she had enough of the vibrations her phone made because of the incoming messages so she decided to check them, serena’s voice repeated itself, begging her not to read them until she was in a better state.

lelei ❤️‍🩹

hey

i heard about the video

u alright?

i know the girl who is being literally fucked up

viv

im okay

u know who she is?

lelei ❤️‍🩹

yeah, i think she turned a junior

this year

it was just to much drama for just one night, vivienne was done for good, but she couldn’t fully deny her true feelings for the star player in her university. talking about uconn, she was scared to death when her thoughts about going back to the place where they meet and the people who were witnessed their pure and raw love. she knows how people will react at the video and she knows that their first thought was her, she could feel it, she can imagine it “wasn’t she with vivienne?” “man, i wonder how she must be feeling.” “we worn her about paige, she didn’t listen.” she wanted to rip her face off in frustration. she grabbed a small notebook that was near her and started to rip it apart, screams come out instantly form her gushed throat, making it burn but that didn’t stop her, the paper that once was fully glued was now spread around her bedroom floor, when the notebook ran out of paper, she kneeled on the floor and started once again ripping the paper into even smaller pieces, shaky mumbles came out of her mouth when she finally got tired of screaming and torturing the paper, shaking her head in denial, this action making her hair stick into the some freshly and dried tears that decorated her flushed cheeks, her eyes filled with tears until the couldn’t keep them inside anymore and they fell making a route down her cheeks, into her chin and falling down in the paper that laid beneath her.

X

ngl, this kinda looks like paige

*video*

fuck, the video had started spreading throughout the internet. that’s it, was paige’s career going to end? will she be kicked out of the women’s basketball team? will she even make to the wnba? it was all the girls fault, why will she even be drunk? maybe she wanted this, she knew that paige bueckers will fuck her dumb and that’s why she didn’t even fight during the whole video.

vivienne’s back started to ache because of her terrible posture she was in, making her lay down, looking at her ceiling, the ripped papers making crunchy sounds while she laid herself on top of them. she will kill for a cigarette right now.

written by andrea!!

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Don't Listen In Secret

The three times that everyone spills Vernon’s secrets, and the one where you finally get it.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: none that I can think of.

This is part of the Three Times series. This one in inspired by this reaction.

One

“Sorry I’m late, you guys didn’t wait on me to order, right?” You’re a little out of breath when you plop into the chair next to Vernon. It’s not unusual for him to invite you out with the younger members of his group when they hang out. Seungkwan and Chan have become good friends of yours over the years. 

“No,” Seungkwan snorts, gesturing to your glass. “Vernon ordered your incredibly specific and picky order already. Food is on the way.” 

“His memory when it comes to things like that is wild,” Chan laughs. 

“Let’s be real, it’s not wild because it’s about Y/N.” Seungkwan and Chan are laughing boisterously, but you and Vernon look at each other, shaking your heads. 

Still, you smile at Vernon and say, “Thanks.” He shrugs it off, asking how your day was. As you’re all standing up to leave the restaurant later, the waiter comes over with a to-go bag and hands it to you. “Oh, uh, thank you, but I didn’t order anything else.”

“You didn’t, but I did,” Vernon says behind you. You look questioningly at him as the waiter walks away. “Dessert,” he says simply. He must have ordered that for you too before you arrived. You grin, hugging the little bag to your chest, saying thank you again. On the way out, you hear Seungkwan and Chan giggling to themselves. “What’s so funny?” You say over your shoulder. 

Chan waves it off. “Nothing.”

Two

You’re at the dorm to watch a movie with Vernon and a few of the members. It’s a horror movie, specifically one of those tense scenes where you’re expecting a jump scare any second. 

The jump scare is actually your stomach grumbling loudly. There are four sets of eyes on you now and you shrink under the blanket. “Sorry.” The jump scare has finally occurred and only a couple members actually react, namely Seungkwan and Chan. But Jeonghan and Vernon are giving you raised eyebrows. 

“Did you not eat?” Jeonghan asks. “It’s so late.” 

“I did. I guess it didn’t quite cut it,” you excuse. “I’m good. I’ll just grab a snack or something.”

Vernon is standing up, throwing off your shared blanket. “Come on, I’ll make you something.” 

You’re too busy frowning up at Vernon to notice the highly entertained looks that the three of his group members are sharing. “Hansol, you hate to cook. Really, I’m fine. I’ll just grab something small.”

Vernon is tossing your side of the blanket off and pulling you up off the couch now. “That’s not enough. I won’t burn down the house, I promise. It’s just some ramen.”

“Make me some too,” Jeonghan pipes up, but Vernon simply says ‘no’ from the kitchen. 

Twenty minutes later, you’re feeling much better, stomach full and blanket back over you on the couch. “What did we miss?” You don’t recieve an answer because Jeonghan, Seungkwan, and Chan are all watching you carefully. “What?” You ask, suddenly a little self-conscious.  

“Just waiting to see if you’ll keel over any second now,” Seungkwan says and you can’t quite tell if it’s a joke. 

You scoff. “You guys are so mean. Hansol’s cooking isn’t as bad as he makes it out to be.”

“We wouldn’t know. He refuses to cook for us,” Chan says. 

“Yeah, you’re just special like that, I guess,” Seungkwan teases. 

“Lucky enough to get poisoned. Is that was true love really is?” Jeonghan’s words make the others laugh loudly, movie long forgotten. You never do know what you missed while you were eating and it doesn’t matter because you’re totally lost now, both when it comes to the movie and everything else. 

Three

You’re at a birthday party for one of the members. It’s small by all accounts since so few people can fit in one of the dorms comfortably. But it’s still packed and you hover behind Vernon’s chair as cake is getting cut. 

Midsentence, a plate is slid in Vernon’s direction, and without thinking much, he hands it over his shoulder to you. Then he must have thought about it a little longer. You like to sit down to eat, even if it’s just a little snack. You don’t want to stain your clothes or get crumbs all over yourself. Vernon’s standing up, pushing you towards the chair, but you resist. “No way. You’ve had long practices all week. You should rest.” 

“Fine, but you need to sit too.” Vernon is sitting back down and pushing the chair out. Then his hands come around your waist, pulling you into his lap. This isn’t an everyday occurrance for either of you, but there’s absolutely nothing that feels weird about it, so you start eating your cake. 

Seungcheol is smirking next to you. “Comfortable?” You shrug. “Why don’t you both just date already?” He laughs. 

Vernon is talking to Wonwoo on your otherside so he has no reaction to the comment. You just roll your eyes at Seungcheol. “You know it’s not like that. Shut up, and eat your cake, Cheol.”

“No, you seem to be the only one who doesn’t know that it’s exactly like that,” Seungcheol smarts. You reach out and shove his shoulder. 

“You’re wrong,” you insist. “Now eat your cake before someone steals it.”

Four

“I can’t believe you haven’t packed anything,” you admonish, tossing clothes over your shoulder onto Vernon’s bed. You both are due to fly out this afternoon to visit New York with his family. You arrived to find him still in bed with his suitcase totally empty on the floor. 

“We have time to get to the airport. It’ll be fine,” he soothes, folding clothes and packing leisurely. 

Seokmin and Jun barrel into the room, making themselves comfortable. They make small talk about the trip. “Y/N, do you usually go on things like this with his family?” Jun asks.

The question sounds innocent enough, but Vernon answers before you can. He snorts. “Like my mom would take no for an answer. She planned this whole trip around Y/N’s work schedule.”

Seokmin coos, “Awe, she loves her future daughter-in-law so much.” 

Vernon is rolling his eyes, but gets distracted by his phone ringing. You’re too busy standing still by the closet, head spinning. You had no idea that his mother had worked around your schedule. And you had no idea why Vernon didn’t dismiss the ‘future daughter-in-law’ comment. It plagues your mind as Vernon rushes you out of the door with your suitcases, and as you get through security at the airport, and as you find your seats on the plane and take off. Vernon hands you a water bottle and a pack of cookies that the flight attendant handed out. “Are you good?” He asks.

You find yourself frowning at him. “I have a weird question.” 

“Okay,” he says with a shrug. 

“Do you happen to have feelings for me or something?”

He blinks at you, once, twice, and then finally a third time, before shrugging. It’s almost irritatingly casual when he says, “Yes.” Your jaw drops and he lets out a little laugh. “It’s not a big deal, Y/N. I don’t expect anything and nothing ever has to change. I’m still your best friend and you’re still mine.”

You’re stuttering. “Hansol, how long have you felt like this?” 

Another casual shrug. “A few years maybe.”

Well, you can be casual too. You force your shoulders to relax and nod understandingly. “So a few years shorter than I’ve had feelings for you, then.”

It’s a slow reaction from him, but eventually his eyes widen. “Uh. What?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Now, are you going to hold my hand or what? You know I hate turbulence.”

Vernon folds his hand into yours and doesn’t say anything about the fact that you don’t hit even a single patch of turbulence during the whole flight. You don’t know what will happen once you arrive in New York for this little vacation, or even after you get back home, but there’s relief in your little secret being out. Maybe he feels the same way too.

[savanir]

The What Corps?

“we have you now spook! there is nowhere you can run and hide with our new spectral tethers active!”

Danny winces at the small metal clips that have hooked themselves in his leg, some new GIW tech that is messing with his powers.

“oh yeah? I was just dying for you guys to give me a challenge” plan. plan. He's gotta think of a plan to get out of here and fast. He takes a steadying breath and starts to look for anything that can help him.

he can’t get caught here. He just can't. He simply won’t allow himself.

suddenly the two GIW goons in front of him click their earpieces to clearly listen to what someone else is telling them, Danny is very glad for his own enhanced senses.

“Operatives K and O, be advised, there have been sightings of a new ectoplasmic entity near your location. Other operatives report that it’s incredibly small and moves fast. watch your backs, this may be an ambush”

small and fast? it better not be some poor little blob ghost, Danny sort of hopes it’s some manner of ectowasp, at least that could be entertaining to see.

“you better not be hoping for back up, ecto scum”

“I have no idea what you are talking about”

It's then that a small bright green light zips on scene and weaves through crowds in the distance with ease and then speeds up towards the two operatives who do not hesitate to shoot, missing completely like the storm troopers they are.

Whatever it is, it is indeed going very fast but Danny manages to figure out what it looks like and it appears to be a… ring?

“hold it you tiny accessory shaped ecto fiend!”

The ring does a speedy circle around Operative O while K is lining up a shot and ends up blasting the poor guy point blank in his face, “O!”

Danny takes a step forward with an arm outstretched and a “oh damn! Are you alright?” on his lips when the ring takes the chance to slip on his finger. “Daniel Fenton of Earth”

Danny already had a freakout about a ghost jewelry getting on him, his experiences with those so far have been incredibly bad after all, what with the rings and crowns and pendants… now this damn thing is just straight up outing him! 

Thank the ancients the two GIW stooges are too busy with each other right now to pay close attention to what this weird ring is saying.

“You have the ability to overcome great fear” ah so this is related to him steeling himself just now? Maybe? or something??

You have been chosen” never good, we are back to freaking out again.

“Welcome to the green lantern corps” 

… the what?

Danny notices that his usual outfit suddenly has more green going on, and his DP symbol has some sort of… he guess it’s supposed to be a lantern, maybe? shape around it.

He’s somehow even more glowy now, and there is something on his face. Feeling its shape makes him think it’s some sort of mask.

The metal clip things are no longer attached to his legs though so that’s great!

“You’re not getting away so easily ecto scum! sentient ghost paraphernalia coming to your rescue or no!” They both aim their weapons to take a shot.

Danny figures he can now easily hold them back with his usual shields,“you guys realize you just called this weird ring sentient and thereby negate the whole nonsentie-ack!”

“Attacking a corps lantern is punishable offense as of the instatement of the galactic diplomatic immunity as declared by the-” Okay so now Danny is just raising his eyebrow at this weird as fuck ring. Just what is it going on about?

“notifying nearby lanterns and requesting assistance with apprehension of hostiles”

what?

“getting your friends to help you out vile spook? such a thing is useless with the Blackout still very much in place”

Well… the two streaks of green light in the distance is making Danny doubt that statement.

Maybe there is more to this Lantern corps thing than he thought… And something tells him his life is about to get even more complicated than it already is.

[420b1a2eit]

The Fall - Part 1

Jieun x Jongsuk x ???

11605 words

tags: porn, handjob, blowjob, unsatisactory sex, power bottom, threesome, double penetration

Jieun dragged herself through the front door, dropping her bags on the floor. The tour had been grueling—shows in different cities every night, endless crowds cheering her on, but it felt empty. Despite the flashing lights and adoring fans, she missed something grounded, something familiar, like home. Like Jongsuk.

They had been texting all through the tour, long strings of “I miss you” and “I can’t wait to see you again,” but now that she was standing in the hallway of their shared apartment, a strange emptiness curled in her chest. It wasn’t like her to feel this way, not when she’d been away so long, not when she should have been desperate to wrap her arms around him.

Jongsuk appeared in the doorway, his grin wide, welcoming, too eager. He embraced her, the scent of him familiar and warm, but as their lips met, Jieun felt... nothing. Just lips pressing together, like rehearsed movements without the emotion behind them.

They didn’t waste time that evening. After dinner, after talking about her tour and the things she’d seen, they were already heading to bed. Jongsuk undressed her slowly, hands running down her back, tugging at the thin fabric of her shirt. He whispered how much he had missed her, how he had thought of her every night.

She should have been swept up in the moment, but as he touched her, kissed her skin, she felt detached, like she was watching from a distance, observing a scene from someone else’s life. His hands roamed over her body, and her breath quickened, but not in anticipation. More in uncertainty.

When he finally pushed into her, there was no spark. No sudden rush of pleasure or excitement. It felt like he was moving inside her, going through the motions, but her body wasn't responding. His breath hitched, deepening as he thrust into her with more intensity. Jieun clenched her eyes shut, trying to focus, to feel something. This is what you wanted, right?

But there was nothing. No rush of euphoria, no connection. His grunts grew louder, and he was lost in his own rhythm, oblivious to the storm of dissatisfaction swirling inside her. She tried to find pleasure in his movements, grinding her hips in sync with his, but it felt mechanical, rehearsed, lacking fire. A dull ache built in her chest. What’s wrong with me? she wondered, biting her lip, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

When he finished, collapsing beside her, breathless and spent, Jieun lay still, her body tense. She felt empty in more ways than one. Her mind raced, trying to process the numbness. Jongsuk kissed her cheek, whispered that he loved her, and she forced a smile, though her heart wasn’t in it.

The next few nights followed the same rhythm—he’d reach for her, and she’d respond, trying to coax some kind of desire, some spark of arousal. But each time, it was the same. His hands felt heavy, his movements predictable. Sex had turned into a routine, like brushing her teeth or making the bed, just another thing to check off the list.

Days passed, and her frustration mounted. Was it him? Was he not enough anymore? Or was it her? Had she become too jaded, too caught up in her own head to enjoy something so simple? She found herself scrolling mindlessly through the internet one night, looking for answers, trying to distract herself from the growing pit in her stomach.

That’s when she stumbled upon a video. It wasn’t something she’d normally click on, but something about the thumbnail caught her eye—a woman, wild-eyed, moaning between two men. Curiosity pulled her in, and before she realized what was happening, she was watching the screen intently. The woman was lost in the heat of the moment, sandwiched between two black men who looked like they were in complete control, their hands rough, their bodies overwhelming. They dominated her, both taking her at the same time, filling her from every angle.

Jieun’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing as she watched the scene unfold. The woman looked so... free. So completely consumed by pleasure. The intensity of it sent a thrill down Jieun’s spine. For the first time in weeks, she felt something stir inside her, a hunger she hadn’t known was there. It wasn’t just the act itself, it was the power dynamics, the thrill of submission, the raw intensity of being utterly devoured by not one, but two men.

Was this what she was missing?

She couldn’t get the image out of her head, the way the woman writhed and moaned, completely at their mercy, and the way she begged for more, so desperate to be filled by them both. It was intoxicating. Jieun tried to push the thought away, but it clung to her mind, growing louder, more persistent.

She didn’t want to cheat. That wasn’t the answer. But what if...?

A week passed since Jieun had returned home, a dull haze lingering between her and Jongsuk. The nights they spent together had been filled with routine passion—his hands roamed her body, his lips found all the familiar places, but something was off. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how deep his thrusts or how desperate his words of desire, Jieun couldn't find the satisfaction she craved.

It wasn’t him—she told herself that over and over. Jongsuk loved her, he was attentive, always trying to make her feel good. But each time they finished, as he lay beside her, sweaty and sated, she felt nothing but an aching emptiness in her chest. Her thoughts would wander, her mind flicking through vague fantasies, and recently, one had been burning brighter than the others. That porn video.

She had tried to brush it off at first, telling herself it was just the idea of something new, something different. But it wasn’t just the novelty. There was something about the power, the submission, the way the woman was overwhelmed by two men at once.

And now, the thought clung to her like a drug, seeping into her dreams, making her wet in the middle of the night when Jongsuk was fast asleep beside her.

Jieun hesitated for days, unsure how to bring it up to Jongsuk. She wondered if he would think she was crazy, or worse, be disgusted. But the idea had already taken root, blossoming into a full-blown fantasy that she couldn’t ignore. One night, as they were lying in bed after yet another unsatisfying round of sex, she finally gathered the courage. She rolled over, her hand sliding down Jongsuk’s chest, fingers tracing the faint line of hair leading lower.

"Baby..." Her voice was a whisper, sultry, laced with intent. Her fingers wrapped around his softening cock, stroking it lazily. "What if... we tried something different?"

His eyes flickered open, looking at her with curiosity but also a hint of confusion. "Different?" he murmured, his voice thick with post-coital drowsiness. "What do you mean?"

She smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips, her fingers tightening slightly around his length, coaxing it back to life. "You know... I’ve been thinking. About how we could... spice things up."

Jongsuk let out a low groan as her hand began to move more purposefully, stroking him harder, faster, feeling him twitch under her touch. "Like what?" he asked, his voice now more awake, intrigued.

Jieun leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear. "What if... there was another man with us?" Her words were deliberate, soft but heavy with meaning. She could feel him stiffen—not just his cock, but his entire body, tensing under her suggestion.

"Another... man?" he echoed, clearly surprised.

"Mm-hmm." Her fingers moved with more urgency now, her hand pumping his cock steadily, feeling him harden fully in her grip. "Just imagine it, baby. Me... between the two of you. Another man taking me, while you watch. Or maybe you both fuck me at the same time..."

She felt him inhale sharply, the tension in his body increasing as her words sank in. His cock throbbed in her hand, and she knew she was getting to him.

"Love... I…" His voice was hesitant, a mixture of disbelief and arousal, his thoughts clearly torn between the idea and the unfamiliar territory she was leading him into.

She didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. The idea had consumed her for days, and now she was planting it deep in his mind, making him see it, making him feel it. She shifted lower, her lips grazing his collarbone, then trailing down his chest, her breath hot against his skin.

"Can you picture it, baby?" she purred, her mouth now hovering over his cock. "Me... on my knees... two cocks in my mouth... or maybe one fucking me from behind, the other filling my mouth." She looked up at him, locking eyes as she parted her lips, taking him into her mouth slowly, deliberately.

Jongsuk’s breath hitched, his hips bucking up slightly as she enveloped him, her mouth wet, hot, and eager. His hand instinctively reached for her hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she sucked him deeper, letting him feel the weight of her desire.

She pulled back just enough to speak, her voice muffled by his cock still grazing her lips. "You’d love it, wouldn’t you? Watching me take it from both of you... seeing me so full, so used."

Her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock, teasing, as her hand continued stroking the base. "You’d fuck me harder than ever, just to show him that I’m yours. You’d get so turned on, knowing another man is inside me... knowing that I’m being shared."

Jongsuk groaned, his grip tightening in her hair, his body responding to every filthy word spilling from her lips. She bobbed her head, sucking him with more intensity now, her hand working in time with her mouth.

"Tell me, baby," she whispered as she pulled away for a breath, her hand still pumping him steadily. "Tell me you want to see it. Tell me you want to watch me... being fucked by another man while you fuck me too."

His eyes were dark now, filled with lust, confusion, and the undeniable arousal that her words had ignited. He moaned, head thrown back against the pillow, his body surrendering to the fantasy she was weaving, unable to resist the dirty images flooding his mind.

Jieun grinned, knowing she had him on the edge. She lowered her mouth to his cock again, this time taking him deeper, faster, her throat tightening around him as she pushed him closer to the edge.

"Think about it," she murmured between strokes, her hand slick with saliva and pre-cum. "Me... with both of you... your cock in my mouth, another inside me... filling me, stretching me. You’d love it, wouldn’t you?"

Jongsuk gasped, his hips jerking up, his cock twitching in her mouth. She could feel how close he was, how much he wanted to explode at the thought.

Jongsuk's body trembled as he spilled into Jieun's mouth, his cock pulsing with the intensity of his release. She didn't slow down, not even when he filled her throat, swallowing every last drop like the filthy dream she had painted for him. His grip loosened on her hair, the afterglow hitting him in waves, his breath heavy, chest rising and falling as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Her words still echoed in his mind—his girlfriend, his sweet Jieun, begging for another man to join them. It was outrageous, insane even. But the way she had worked him, the way she had crafted that fantasy, he couldn't deny the pull.

She lifted her head, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "So... what do you think?" she asked, voice low and teasing, as though she hadn't just reduced him to a quivering mess with her mouth alone.

Jongsuk blinked, still caught between disbelief and the primal urge she had stirred within him. His cock twitched in her hand, though he was spent, and the truth slipped out before he had a chance to overthink it. "Okay," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "We can try it."

Jieun's smile widened, her hand giving him one last lazy stroke as she crawled up beside him. "You won’t regret it," she whispered into his ear, lips brushing his jaw. But she could see the hesitation lingering in his eyes, the subtle fear that maybe this would change everything, that maybe he wasn’t enough for her anymore.

To reassure him, Jieun slid a hand up his chest, her touch gentle now, comforting. "You get to decide," she whispered, her voice softer, less demanding now. "Whoever it is, you choose. I’m yours, Jongsuk. I don’t want anyone but who you trust. This isn’t about someone else. This is about us. I just... want something new with you."

That was all it took. His unease faded slightly at her words, realizing she hadn’t been planning on running off with some random guy, that this was something they could do together. That she wanted him in it completely. It made the idea less threatening and more... intriguing. The control rested in his hands now.

Days passed as Jongsuk mulled over her offer, each time feeling a strange mixture of excitement and uncertainty. The fantasy Jieun had painted played over and over in his mind. He finally decided on someone—Minho, a longtime friend, someone he trusted. They hadn’t been best friends, but Minho had always been respectful, someone Jongsuk could rely on, and most importantly, someone who could keep a secret.

When Jongsuk brought up the idea, Minho had hesitated at first, unsure if Jongsuk was joking, but when the seriousness became clear, his interest piqued. They talked about it, laying everything out in the open—boundaries, expectations.

To ease the awkwardness, they invited Minho out for dinner with Jieun. What started as a casual dinner soon turned into something that felt... surprisingly natural. Minho had always been good at making people feel comfortable, and before long, the evening felt more like a strange but thrilling trio date. Jieun laughed at his jokes, Jongsuk found himself loosening up, and by the end of the night, they were all smiling, slightly buzzed from the drinks and the weight of what they had agreed to do hanging in the air between them.

The night finally arrived.

Jieun had rented a suite at a luxurious hotel, wanting to create the perfect setting for what would be their first time together in such a way. She stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom, adjusting the white lingerie she had picked out, something delicate and daring, something that made her look innocent and filthy at the same time.

The lacey pattern around the cups was semi-transparent, giving just enough of a peek at her breasts beneath, nipples hard from anticipation and the slight chill in the room. The thong barely covered anything at all, only a sliver of fabric shielding her pussy, with a tiny white ribbon at the top of her mound, making her look like a present waiting to be unwrapped. Her long, wavy dark brown hair cascaded down her back, reaching the bottom of her spine, adding to the soft allure of her appearance.

When Jongsuk and Minho entered the room, she turned to face them, biting her lower lip, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. Jongsuk’s eyes widened immediately, his breath catching in his throat as he took her in. The white lace clung to her body in all the right places, accentuating her slender frame, her perky breasts pressing against the thin fabric. His mouth went dry as he stared, his mind struggling to process how fucking perfect she looked, innocent and sinful all at once.

Minho’s reaction was just as visceral. His eyes raked over her body, lingering on the way the lace barely concealed her breasts, how her nipples pressed against the fabric, visible but teasing. His gaze dropped lower, tracing the delicate curve of her hips and the thong that disappeared between her thighs. He let out a soft, appreciative breath, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Wow,” Minho said, voice low, full of awe and hunger. “You look… incredible.”

Jieun smiled coyly, shifting her weight slightly, her body language deliberately sensual, her every movement calculated to draw their eyes to different parts of her. “You like it?” she asked, voice sweet but laced with seduction.

Jongsuk stepped closer, his eyes never leaving her body, his hand reaching out to brush against the delicate lace covering her breasts. He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling slightly. “You’re… perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Minho, still watching from a few steps away, nodded slowly, his eyes dark with lust. "Definitely more than I imagined," he added, voice rough with want. His gaze flicked between Jieun and Jongsuk, as if confirming this was real, that they were all really here, about to cross that line.

Jieun’s heart raced as she watched their reactions, feeling the heat rising between the three of them, the tension so thick it was nearly palpable. She could feel the slick wetness pooling between her thighs, the thought of what was about to happen sending jolts of excitement through her.

Slowly, she turned, giving them both a view of her back, her ass framed perfectly by the thong, the lace hugging the soft curve of her hips. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Jongsuk, then Minho, her lips curling into a playful, knowing smile.

“Well,” she said softly, her voice teasing. “Are you two just going to stand there... or are we going to start?”

The air in the suite was thick with tension, a palpable heat that seemed to settle in Jieun's chest, swirling through her veins and flooding her senses. She stood between Jongsuk and Minho, feeling their hungry eyes on her body, the white lingerie clinging to her in a way that made her feel both exposed and powerful. They were eager, she could feel it—their desire practically radiated off them in waves, and for a brief moment, Jieun relished the way she commanded their attention, how she was the center of this shared fantasy.

Jongsuk’s eyes were dark, locked onto hers, and Minho was no different, his lips slightly parted, gaze lingering on her breasts barely covered by the delicate lace. The two men had been so focused on her that it hadn’t even occurred to them that they were still fully dressed.

Jieun chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing as she tilted her head, looking between them. “Mm, you boys are still wearing too much,” she said, her voice dripping with seduction. She gave them both a playful smile, her fingers brushing over her own body for emphasis. “I don’t want either of you wearing anything tonight.” The idea of them stripping down, baring themselves for her, made her pulse quicken.

Jongsuk smirked, glancing at Minho before they both started to undress, peeling off their clothes piece by piece. Jieun watched with anticipation, biting her lower lip as they revealed themselves to her. It was strange, watching Minho undress, someone who wasn’t her boyfriend, but the excitement bubbling inside her was undeniable.

Once they were fully naked, Jieun’s eyes flicked between them, drinking in the sight of their bodies, her breath hitching slightly at how hard both of them already were. Two cocks, stiff and eager, ready for her. The sight sent a thrill down her spine, a mix of curiosity and satisfaction blooming in her chest. Was this what she needed? Was this the key to quenching that gnawing hunger inside her?

She didn’t have much time to linger on the thought as she reached out, taking both men by the forearms, guiding them closer to her. “Come here,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of command, pulling them in. When they were close enough, she took each of their hands and guided them to her body, encouraging them to touch her, feel her.

Their hands roamed over her curves, tentative at first but quickly becoming bolder as they explored the softness of her skin, the shape of her waist, the swell of her breasts beneath the lace. Jieun closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself get lost in their touch, feeling how their fingers gripped her, the mix of Jongsuk’s familiar touch and Minho’s new, electrifying presence setting her nerves on fire.

She opened her eyes, turning her gaze up to Jongsuk first, her lips curving into a smile before she leaned in and kissed him, their mouths meeting in a deep, needy kiss. His tongue slid against hers, a familiar heat, but the sensation of another man’s hands on her body while she kissed her boyfriend sent a fresh wave of excitement through her. Jongsuk’s hands squeezed her waist possessively, pulling her closer as they made out, but Jieun pulled away just enough to turn her head, catching Minho’s lips next.

Making out with Minho was a different kind of thrill—his kiss was rougher, more urgent, and his hands on her body felt almost foreign, in the best way. She moaned softly into his mouth, one of her hands slipping up into his hair, pulling him closer as Jongsuk’s hands continued to roam her body, sliding over her ass, gripping her thighs.

Both men were touching her now, groping her, hands moving over her breasts, her hips, her ass, exploring every inch they could reach. It was overwhelming in the most delicious way, their eager hands sending jolts of pleasure through her as they caressed and squeezed her, fingers brushing the lace of her thong, teasing the sensitive skin beneath.

Jieun pulled back, a playful smirk curling on her lips as she glanced down at their bodies, both of their cocks hard and throbbing, inches from her. “Looks like you’re both pretty worked up already,” she said, her voice low, teasing as she looked between them.

She reached down, her small hands wrapping around each of their cocks, feeling them twitch under her touch, hot and heavy in her palms. “Mm, I wonder which one of you is going to last the longest…” she mused, her voice a playful purr as she began to stroke them both, her hands moving slowly, deliberately, enjoying the way their bodies reacted to her touch.

Jongsuk groaned softly, his hips bucking slightly into her hand, while Minho let out a low growl, his grip on her waist tightening as he stared down at her, lust darkening his gaze. The weight of their cocks in her hands, the power she had over both of them in this moment, sent a thrill straight to her core, wetness already pooling between her legs, soaking the thin lace of her thong.

As she continued to jerk them off, she leaned in to kiss Jongsuk again, her tongue sliding against his, while her hand stroked his cock, slow and steady. After a moment, she pulled away from him, turning to Minho, kissing him with the same intensity, her other hand working his cock just as skillfully.

The whole time, their hands were on her, worshipping her body, squeezing, groping, sliding over her breasts, her ass, her thighs. It was intoxicating, feeling both of them wanting her so desperately, their bodies reacting to her touch, their cocks throbbing in her hands.

But as much as their eagerness excited her, there was a question lingering in the back of her mind—Is this it? Is this what I need to finally feel satisfied?

Her body was buzzing with anticipation, with lust, with the thrill of having two men at her mercy, but deep down, she still wondered if this was what would finally quench that nagging, unfulfilled desire that had been plaguing her for so long. Could this really be the answer?

Jieun's heart pounded in her chest, the thrill of what she was about to do overwhelming her senses. Her hands still wrapped around their cocks, she slowly sank down to her knees, the plush carpet soft beneath her as she came face-to-face with both men’s stiff lengths. Jongsuk's cock, familiar and loved, stood beside Minho's, another man’s erection staring back at her, making her pulse quicken with a mix of excitement and curiosity. The two cocks were of average size, nothing monstrous, but the act itself—the shared intimacy between them—made everything feel larger than life.

She glanced up at Jongsuk first, locking eyes with him, a playful glint in her gaze as she leaned in, her warm breath ghosting over the head of his cock. Her tongue darted out, swirling around the sensitive tip, tasting the salty drop of pre-cum that had already formed. He groaned, his hips twitching at her touch, and she smiled around his cock, savoring the control she had over him. This was her boyfriend, the man she loved, and here she was, kneeling before him, giving herself to this wild fantasy she had spun between them.

But she wasn’t done yet. Turning her head slightly, she shifted to Minho’s cock, giving him the same attention she had just given Jongsuk. Her tongue dragged along his length, starting from the base and moving slowly, deliberately, all the way to the tip. Minho’s breath hitched, his cock twitching in her hand as she reached the tip, giving it a soft, teasing kiss before pulling away. She could hear his low, guttural groan, and it sent a shiver of satisfaction through her.

She turned her attention back to Jongsuk, giving his cock another slow, deliberate swirl of her tongue around the head. This time, she kept her eyes locked on his, watching his reaction, knowing exactly what she was doing to him. “You like that, baby?” she purred softly, her voice teasing, dripping with seduction. “Does it feel good watching me like this... sharing me with him?”

Jongsuk let out a shaky breath, his hand instinctively moving to her hair, gripping it gently as he stared down at her. “Fuck, Jieun... yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. There was no hesitation in his answer now, no trace of doubt. He wanted this just as much as she did.

With that, Jieun took him fully into her mouth, her lips stretching around his length, sliding down until the head of his cock pressed against the back of her throat. She moaned softly around him, the sound vibrating against his shaft, sending another shiver down his spine. Her hand moved to Minho’s cock, pumping him slowly, steadily, as she sucked Jongsuk deeper into her wet, warm mouth.

Her mind buzzed with pleasure, the thrill of having both of them here, of tasting them both, overwhelming her. Maybe this really is what I needed, she thought as she moved her head up and down, sucking her boyfriend’s cock with practiced skill. She could feel her pussy throbbing, wetness pooling between her thighs, and the heat rising in her core. The excitement of having two men watching her, both of them hard and eager for her, was electric. Maybe this is what will finally satisfy me.

Once she had Jongsuk’s cock sufficiently slick with her saliva, she turned her attention back to Minho, switching effortlessly as she took him into her mouth next. Her hand returned to Jongsuk’s cock, stroking him with the same steady rhythm she had used on Minho before. Minho groaned deeply as her lips wrapped around him, her tongue swirling around his shaft just as she had done with Jongsuk. His fingers tangled in her hair, not rough but firm, guiding her just enough to let her know how much he wanted it.

She alternated between them, sucking one while jerking off the other, her movements fluid, confident, her body fully immersed in the pleasure of pleasing them both. Every time she switched, she could feel their reactions—Jongsuk’s sharp inhalations, Minho’s quiet growls—and it fueled her, pushing her deeper into the headspace she craved. Yes, this is what I needed. This is what I’ve been missing.

Her hands worked them both, her lips gliding over each cock, wet and eager, tasting them, savoring the way they responded to her touch. The room filled with the slick sounds of her mouth, the soft gasps and groans of the men as she worshipped their cocks, alternating between them as if she were trying to outdo herself with each turn.

At one point, Jieun got an idea, a flash of inspiration that made her heart race. She lowered her face just a little, placing herself beneath both of their cocks, letting their swollen heads rest just above her lips. She stuck her tongue out, letting it flicker between the two, teasing the sensitive tips of both cocks at once. Their reactions were immediate—Jongsuk let out a low moan, his grip tightening in her hair, while Minho groaned deeply, his fingers brushing the side of her cheek as he watched her with wide, lust-filled eyes.

She swirled her tongue between them, her eyes half-lidded, enjoying the way their cocks pulsed and twitched in response to her teasing. She kissed the head of Jongsuk’s cock, then Minho’s, her lips leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all over both of them. The sight of her, on her knees, with two hard cocks hanging over her, her lips and tongue working both of them, was enough to send any man into a frenzy, and she could feel their restraint slipping, the way their hips moved involuntarily toward her, begging for more.

This is it, she thought again, a rush of heat coursing through her body as she continued her slutty display. This is what I needed all along. The power, the control, the attention of two men completely devoted to her pleasure—it was intoxicating. She could feel the satisfaction building, the knot of desire deep inside her starting to unravel. This is what will make me feel whole again.

Jieun’s moans became louder, more desperate as she continued to alternate between them, sucking one cock while stroking the other, then switching, her mouth wet and warm around them both. The way they responded to her, the way they moaned her name, only fueled her more. This was what she had been craving, this overwhelming sensation of being desired, of being shared, of having two men completely lost in her.

Jieun could feel the power thrumming through her body as she released their cocks with a loud, wet pop, their tips glistening from her mouth. She grinned, her eyes flicking up at the two men as she gave each of their throbbing heads a teasing kiss, her lips lingering just enough to drive them crazy. Jongsuk's cock twitched at her touch, and Minho groaned, his jaw clenched as he fought the urge to thrust into her mouth again. They were both on the verge of losing control, their bodies aching for release, but Jieun wasn’t done playing with them yet.

"Come here," she purred, rising gracefully to her feet, her hands immediately wrapping around their shafts again. She tugged them both toward the bed, leading them by their cocks as if they were nothing more than her obedient toys. The way their hips jerked in response to her every pull sent a thrill straight to her core, and she knew she had them exactly where she wanted them.

Once she reached the bed, Jieun let go of their cocks again, watching as they stood there, eyes glazed over with pure lust, waiting for her next move. She climbed onto the mattress slowly, deliberately, her every movement slow and sensual, giving them a perfect view of her body as she crawled to the center of the king-sized bed. Her ass swayed with every step, the thin strip of lace barely covering her as she got on all fours, her body stretched out like an offering.

She paused in the middle of the bed, arching her back, making sure her ass was fully on display for them. Jieun glanced back over her shoulder, her dark hair cascading over one side as she gave them a smoldering look, the fire in her eyes practically daring them to touch her. "Look at how hard you both are for me," she teased, her voice thick with arousal. "Stroke your cocks for me. I want to see you both jerk off while you watch me."

Jongsuk and Minho didn’t need to be told twice. Their hands wrapped around their cocks, stroking slowly at first, their eyes locked onto Jieun’s perfect ass as she wiggled it for them, the lace thong doing nothing to hide the curves of her body. The sound of their labored breathing filled the room, and Jieun smiled, biting her lower lip as she watched them struggle to contain themselves.

She lowered her upper body onto the bed, her chest pressing against the sheets, arching her back even more to push her ass higher into the air. Her hands slid back, caressing her own ass before smacking it lightly, the sound of her hand slapping her flesh making both men groan, their strokes quickening involuntarily. "Mm, you like that?" she cooed, her fingers playing with the waistband of her thong, tugging it down slightly before letting it snap back into place. "I bet you want to fuck me so bad right now... but you have to be patient."

They groaned in unison, their eyes locked on her every movement, their hands jerking their cocks faster. But Jieun wasn’t done teasing them yet. She smacked her ass again, harder this time, making it jiggle just enough to drive them wild. "Slow down," she commanded softly, a playful edge in her voice. "You’ll do exactly what I say, or else you won’t get a taste of this tonight."

Jongsuk’s breath hitched, and Minho let out a frustrated grunt, but they both obeyed, slowing their hands despite the obvious struggle. Jieun smirked, pleased with their obedience, and finally slid her thong down, peeling the delicate fabric from her ass and thighs, revealing her bare skin. The tiny strip of lace slipped over her knees and onto the bed, leaving her completely exposed save for the garter and stockings still adorning her legs.

She tossed the thong toward them, and Minho caught it easily, immediately bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as the scent of her arousal filled his senses. His cock jerked in his hand, and without missing a beat, he wrapped the thong around his length, using it to jerk himself off as he stroked faster. "Fuck, Jieun," Minho growled, his voice thick with need, his eyes locked on her dripping pussy.

Jieun grinned, loving how wild she was making them both. "You like that, don’t you? Fighting over me... stroking yourselves like you’re desperate for me." She glanced at Jongsuk, her boyfriend’s eyes dark with lust as his hand worked his cock faster, his gaze fixated on her bare ass, on her slick, wet pussy that glistened between her thighs. "You’ve both got me so wet," she moaned, spreading her ass cheeks wide with both hands, showing them everything—her tight, puckered asshole, her soaked cunt, all of it on display just for them.

The two men groaned loudly, their strokes becoming erratic as they watched her tease them, her fingers spreading herself open, her voice sweet and filthy as she told them how turned on they were making her. Minho was stroking his cock with her thong still wrapped around it, his face twisted in pleasure, while Jongsuk’s eyes were glued to the sight of her spread wide, his hand moving faster and faster.

Jieun could tell they were close, their bodies tensing, their breath coming in ragged gasps, and it made her pulse race even more. She decided to push them just a little further, to make this a game, something to heighten the intensity of the moment.

"Mm, you’re both about to cum, aren’t you?" she teased, her voice low and sultry. "But here’s the thing..." She flipped onto her back, her legs spread wide, her pussy glistening and ready as she leaned back against a pillow, looking up at them with a wicked smile. "The last one to cum gets to fuck me first. So, if you want to be the one inside me... you better hold it in."

Jongsuk’s eyes widened, and Minho groaned, their hands hesitating for just a moment as they processed her words. But the sight of her, lying there with her legs spread, her fingers dipping down to rub her wet pussy right in front of them, was too much to handle. She started to play with herself, her fingers sliding over her swollen clit, her hips lifting off the bed as she moaned softly. "Come on, baby," she whispered, looking at Jongsuk, then Minho. "Who’s going to cum for me first? Don’t you want to fuck me? Don’t you want to be the one to feel how wet I am?"

Her dirty words, her slick fingers rubbing her pussy, the way her body writhed on the bed—it was pushing them both to the brink. Their hands were a blur, their cocks jerking furiously as they watched her play with herself, their eyes glued to the sight of her wetness, to the way she teased them with every moan, every soft gasp.

Minho’s hand tightened around his cock, the thong still wrapped around it as he stroked faster, his eyes locked on her pussy. He was close—so close he could feel the orgasm building in his core, ready to explode at any moment.

But Jongsuk wasn’t far behind, his body trembling as he fought to hold back, his eyes fixed on Jieun’s face, her lips parted in pleasure as she rubbed herself faster, teasing him, making him want to cum so badly but knowing he had to hold on if he wanted to be the first to fuck her.

"Who’s going to give in?" she purred, her voice a soft taunt as she arched her back, her fingers dipping lower, sliding over her slick folds as she moaned louder. "Come on, boys... I want to see you lose control for me."

Minho's body tensed, his strokes becoming erratic, and before he could stop himself, he came. Thick spurts of cum splattered across the carpet, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his body shuddered with release. He cursed under his breath, knowing he had lost, but the sight of Jieun still on her knees, watching him with that teasing smile on her lips, made it all the more frustrating.

“Aww, too bad, Minho,” Jieun cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, her finger playfully curling toward Jongsuk. “Looks like you’re not the lucky one tonight.” She bit her lip as she turned her attention fully to her boyfriend. “Come here, baby.”

Jongsuk stepped forward, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of finally being the one to take her. But Jieun had other plans. She got back on all fours, her body curving sensually as she wrapped her hand around Jongsuk’s cock. Slowly, she began stroking him, her grip firm and teasing as she gazed up at him with dark, hooded eyes.

“You've been so good, holding back for me,” she whispered before leaning in, her tongue flicking out to trace the head of his cock. Jongsuk groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily, but Jieun was in full control now. She swirled her tongue around him, her lips wrapping around his swollen head before she took him deeper into her mouth.

Her tongue danced along his length, her hand stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. Jongsuk’s hand found her hair, his fingers tightening in her dark locks as he watched her worship his cock. Jieun’s wet, warm mouth moved over him, her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him with fervor. She looked up at him the whole time, her eyes gleaming, filled with that insatiable hunger.

It didn’t take long for Jongsuk to reach the edge, his hips bucking into her mouth as his cock twitched violently. With a choked moan, he came, thick ropes of cum spilling into Jieun’s mouth. She moaned softly around him, taking every drop, her tongue swirling lazily around his cock as he came down from his high. She kissed the tip of his cock one last time, licking him clean, her lips and tongue savoring every inch of him before she pulled away, her smile mischievous as she looked up at him.

She kissed the head of his cock, leaving his shaft glistening and spotless. Jongsuk shuddered, collapsing onto the nearby chair, his chest heaving, but before he could recover fully, Jieun gave him a playful look.

“Do you want to fuck me right away, or would you like a little break?” she asked, voice still sweet, but there was a hint of challenge in it, a test.

Jongsuk, still catching his breath, felt a pang of guilt as he leaned back. “I think… I might need a moment,” he admitted. Disappointing, Jieun thought, though she kept her expression soft and understanding. She simply nodded and smiled, hiding the tiny flicker of frustration. She wanted more, needed more. But Jongsuk was always a little slower to catch up to her desires.

As he settled into the chair, Minho, not one to miss an opportunity, stepped forward. “I can help,” he said, his voice eager, his cock still half-hard despite his recent release. Jieun raised an eyebrow at him, thinking he might try to claim what he had lost by coming first. But she wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

“Help, huh?” Jieun smirked, glancing over at Jongsuk before turning back to Minho. “Alright... but you’re not fucking me yet. You’ll be eating me out while Jongsuk watches.” Her tone was authoritative, leaving no room for argument. Minho didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees, already eager to please her.

Jieun positioned herself on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wide, her pussy glistening with a mixture of her own arousal and anticipation. “Go ahead,” she purred, running her fingers lightly over her clit, teasing herself just enough to get him started. Minho leaned in, wasting no time, his mouth immediately latching onto her wet folds. His tongue was eager, swirling around her swollen clit, then dipping down to taste her slick entrance.

Minho’s mouth worked feverishly, licking, sucking, devouring her like he was starved for it. His tongue flicked against her clit with precision, then trailed down, plunging into her tight cunt, fucking her with his mouth in a desperate attempt to make her cum. Jieun threw her head back, her hands tangling in his hair as her hips bucked against his face. The pleasure was sharp, intense, and she could feel the knot in her core tightening with every stroke of his tongue.

She glanced over at Jongsuk, who was watching them from the chair, his cock already hardening again as he stroked himself slowly, eyes wide with fascination. Seeing him aroused by this only made Jieun’s pleasure climb higher, the idea of being watched as she was pleasured sending shivers down her spine. Minho wasn’t just preparing her for Jongsuk—he was trying to make her cum, trying to win her over completely.

And it worked.

Jieun’s breath hitched, her thighs trembling as Minho’s relentless tongue pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm hit her hard, her pussy clenching around nothing as waves of pleasure crashed through her body. She let out a low, guttural moan, her hips jerking against Minho’s face as she rode the high of her release.

“Fuck,” she gasped, pushing Minho’s head away, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “That was... good.” She smiled, her body still tingling, but there was no time to rest. She needed more. Her body was burning for it.

Turning her gaze to Jongsuk, she crooked her finger, beckoning him over. “Come here,” she commanded softly, her voice thick with need. “I can’t wait any longer.”

Jongsuk stood, his cock fully hard again from watching them, his earlier hesitation melting away. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself over Jieun, their bodies aligning in a familiar but now electrifying way. He settled between her legs, his cock pressing against her slick entrance, the wetness of her pussy mixed with Minho’s saliva making the glide easy.

Jieun wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a deep kiss, their tongues tangling as she ground her pussy against him, her slick folds coating his cock in her arousal. “Put it in,” she whispered against his lips, her voice heavy with desire. “I need you to fuck me, Jongsuk.”

He obliged, pushing into her slowly, but Jieun was impatient now. She needed to be fucked, needed to be filled, and the slow pace wasn’t cutting it. “Faster,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back. “Fuck me harder, baby.”

Jongsuk’s pace quickened, his hips slamming into her as he fucked her harder, his cock filling her over and over again. But Jieun needed more, craved more, and no matter how fast he went, it wasn’t enough. “More,” she moaned, her voice needy, desperate. “Harder.”

The intensity of her need caught him off guard. Jongsuk had never seen her like this, so ravenous, so demanding. He tried to keep up, pounding into her, but he was already close, the overwhelming sensation of her wet pussy gripping him making it impossible to hold on. “I’m gonna... I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, his body tensing, hips losing rhythm.

“Stop,” Jieun commanded breathlessly, her voice sharp. She pushed him off, her hands firm against his chest. “I’m not done yet.”

Jongsuk blinked in surprise, but before he could protest, Jieun turned her head toward Minho. “Come here,” she ordered, her eyes blazing with lust. “You’re going to fuck me now... and you better not cum right away.”

Minho, still stroking his cock, stood immediately. His eyes flashed with excitement, eager to finally get his chance. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself behind Jieun as she arched her back, her ass lifting invitingly toward him. Jongsuk, still catching his breath, watched from the side, trying to make sense of his emotions. There was a part of him that stung with rejection, but another, deeper part of him... was fascinated. Turned on even, as he watched Minho grip Jieun’s hips and line himself up with her dripping wet pussy.

When Minho finally thrust into her, Jieun cried out, her voice high-pitched and raw with pleasure. “Yes!” she screamed, her body jolting forward as Minho buried himself inside her. He fucked her with a ferocity that Jongsuk hadn’t managed, his hips slamming into her harder and faster with every thrust, just like she had begged for.

Jongsuk watched, his eyes wide, his hand unconsciously moving to stroke his cock again. The sight of Minho drilling into Jieun, the way her body arched, the way she moaned and gasped, the sound of skin slapping against skin—it all fascinated him. What intrigued him even more was how hard he was getting just watching the two of them.

Minho’s thrusts became uneven, his hips faltering as he tried to keep up with Jieun’s increasingly desperate demands. Despite his best efforts, even his eager pace wasn’t enough for her, and Jieun could feel her dissatisfaction creeping back in, the same gnawing emptiness that had haunted her nights with Jongsuk. She needed more—something deeper, something wilder, something that would finally fill the void inside her.

It hit her then: she wanted both of them, inside her at the same time. That was the only way she could get closer to the satisfaction she was chasing. She had been on edge all night, but the idea of being fucked in both her pussy and ass at once sparked a new heat, a new kind of lust that she knew would finally push her closer to what she needed.

“Stop,” she gasped, pushing Minho off of her, her body shuddering from the effort of holding back her frustrations. “Get off, I want to change positions.”

Minho, panting and confused, immediately withdrew, his cock slick with her juices as he sat back on his heels. Jieun wasted no time, rolling over and getting onto all fours again, her eyes flashing with intensity as she pointed at Jongsuk, then gestured for him to take his place behind her. She was done playing. She wanted this—needed this.

“Jongsuk,” she breathed, her voice dripping with command, “I want you to fuck me from behind.” Then, she pointed at Minho, her lips curling into a sultry smile. “And you, come up here... I want your cock in my throat.”

Jongsuk’s eyes gleamed as he moved into position behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he lined himself up with her dripping pussy. Without hesitation, he slid his cock back inside her, and she moaned softly, her body arching with the familiar sensation. But this time, it was different. This time, her mind was already locked onto what was coming next.

As Jongsuk began to thrust into her from behind, his hips slamming into her ass with the sound of skin smacking against skin, Jieun turned her head toward Minho. Her eyes were glazed over with lust, her lips parted as she watched him approach. He was already hard again, his cock twitching in his hand as he stood before her. With a slow, deliberate movement, she opened her mouth and guided him inside, her lips wrapping around his shaft with a practiced ease.

Jongsuk groaned, his grip on her hips tightening as he pounded into her from behind, his cock driving into her slick pussy harder and faster. Her peachy ass bounced with each thrust, the impact sending ripples through her body. He smacked her ass once, twice, watching the way it jiggled under his hand before gripping it firmly, pulling her back onto his cock with every thrust.

Meanwhile, Jieun’s lips were wrapped around Minho’s cock, her eyes locked onto his as she took him deeper into her throat. The sounds of her squelching throat filled the room, wet with drool as she worked him with her mouth. Impressively, she didn’t gag—there was no challenge for her, even as he pushed deeper into her throat. She could take him, and she did, her throat relaxing around his shaft as her head bobbed back and forth, keeping rhythm with Jongsuk’s thrusts from behind.

The two men were groaning, lost in the heat of the moment. Minho’s hands tangled in her hair as he gently guided her movements, his hips bucking slightly as he fucked her throat. Jongsuk was grunting, his cock slamming into her with reckless abandon, the wet sounds of her pussy filling the room. Jieun was aware of how turned on they were, how much they were enjoying themselves, and she kept up the act, moaning around Minho’s cock, her body writhing beneath Jongsuk’s hands as if she were getting closer to the edge.

But the truth was, she still wasn’t there. Not yet.

That gnawing hunger for more clawed at her, and she knew exactly what she needed now. She pulled back from Minho’s cock with a gasp, her lips wet with spit as she looked up at him, her eyes flashing with a new kind of intensity. “I want you both,” she said, her voice low, sultry. “I want you in my pussy and my ass at the same time.”

Minho groaned, looking down at her with wide eyes, clearly eager to fulfill her request. Jongsuk paused for a moment, his hands still gripping her hips as he processed what she was asking for. But he didn’t hesitate. “Alright,” Jongsuk said, breathless, pulling out of her slowly.

Jieun shifted, rolling onto her back for a moment before sliding onto Minho’s lap. She straddled him, positioning herself over his cock, her wet pussy already slick and ready as she lowered herself onto him. Minho groaned as she sank down onto him, his hands immediately moving to her hips as she began to ride him.

But Jieun wasn’t done yet. She glanced back at Jongsuk, who was already reaching for the lube on the nightstand. He spread the slippery gel over his cock, then lubed up his fingers, gently rubbing the slick substance around the tight entrance of her ass. Jieun shivered at the sensation, her breath hitching as she felt his fingers slip inside, preparing her for what was to come.

When she was ready, Jongsuk positioned himself behind her, his cock pressing against the tight, lubed entrance of her ass. Slowly, he pushed forward, the pressure building as his cock slid inside her inch by inch. Jieun moaned, her body tensing for a moment before she relaxed, allowing him to stretch her ass open, filling her completely.

For the first time that night, she felt it. That fullness. That overwhelming sensation of being filled in both her pussy and ass at the same time. It was exactly what she had been craving, and a low, guttural moan escaped her lips as she settled into the sensation, her body shuddering with the intensity of it.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her voice breathless as she looked between the two men. “Start moving. I want you both to fuck me... like the dirty slut I am.”

Jongsuk didn’t need any more encouragement. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he began to thrust into her ass, his cock sliding in and out of her with slow, deliberate strokes at first. Meanwhile, Minho started moving beneath her, his cock thrusting up into her pussy as he gripped her waist, the two men finding a rhythm as they fucked her in unison.

Jieun’s body rocked between them, her hips grinding down onto Minho’s cock while Jongsuk’s cock filled her ass from behind. She felt the delicious stretch of her ass, the fullness in her pussy, and for the first time that night, she was starting to feel something close to the satisfaction she had been chasing. The sensation of being used by both of them at once, her body caught between two cocks, was exactly what she needed.

“Fuck me,” she moaned, her voice desperate, urging them on. “Fuck me harder... I want you both to use me... treat me like your dirty little slut.”

Jongsuk groaned, his hips slamming into her ass with more force now, his cock driving deeper into her with every thrust. Minho matched his pace, his cock filling her pussy with the same urgency. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, their grunts and groans, filled the room as they fucked her mercilessly, giving her exactly what she had begged for.

Jieun’s head fell back, her mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure as they fucked her from both ends, her body trembling with the sheer intensity of it all. This—this was what she had been craving. This raw, primal need, this feeling of being completely overwhelmed, filled to the brim, fucked by both of them at once. She wasn’t pretending anymore.

Jieun's body was the picture of bliss, her lips parted in moans as Jongsuk and Minho relentlessly pounded into her, filling her from both ends. Her eyes rolled back, her breath ragged, and for a brief moment, she thought she had finally reached it—euphoria. Being stuffed by two men, her holes stretched and used, should have been enough. It felt like it should have been enough. But as the minutes ticked by, and the rhythm of their thrusts became predictable, Jieun’s pleasure slowly, cruelly, began to dull.

She tried to keep the fire alive, pushing herself to find satisfaction, to demand more from them. Her lips parted to speak, to command, "Harder… fuck me harder, do better..." But the words barely escaped her mouth before Minho grunted above her, his voice tight and strained.

"I’m close," he breathed, his thrusts losing their power.

Jongsuk, behind her, echoed the same. "Shit... I’m almost there too..."

Inside, Jieun sighed, feeling the disappointment weigh heavy in her chest. Her pussy clenched instinctively, trying to draw out any last pleasure from them, but it was too late. They were already on the edge, and she knew it was over. She would never get the satisfaction she had been chasing, not tonight. But she couldn’t let them know that.

So she bit down on her frustration and plastered a look of lust across her face, throwing her head back as if she were on the brink of orgasm herself. "Mmm, yes, I’m gonna cum too," she moaned, her voice sultry, playing the part of the satisfied lover to perfection. "But when you cum... pull out. Cum on my face... in my mouth," she panted, giving them the fantasy they were craving.

The two men grunted their assent, their pace quickening as they chased their release. It didn’t take long—Minho was the first to pull out, his cock slick with her juices as he scrambled off the bed, hand furiously jerking his shaft as he stood over her. Jongsuk followed, his cock twitching as he withdrew from her ass, standing next to Minho with the same desperation in his eyes.

Jieun slid off the bed, positioning herself on her knees on the soft carpet, looking up at them with wide, slutty eyes. She opened her mouth, tongue out, her hands squeezing her tits together as the two men jerked their cocks inches from her face.

"Come on," she whispered, her voice low and teasing, "give me your cum. Cover me. Fill my dirty little mouth."

It was all they needed. Minho was the first to erupt, thick ropes of cum spurting across Jieun’s beautiful face, coating her cheeks, her lips, her chin. She moaned as it splattered onto her skin, licking her lips seductively, making a show of how much she loved being covered in their release. Jongsuk followed almost immediately, his load joining Minho’s, his cock jerking in his hand as he shot his cum into her waiting mouth. Jieun moaned louder, letting the hot, salty liquid pool on her tongue before swallowing it down, opening her mouth to show them the remnants of their pleasure.

"Fuck, yes... such a dirty slut for our cum,” groaned the men. Jieun moaned, her voice thick with arousal as she scooped the stray drops off her face with her fingers, licking them clean like it was the sweetest treat. She glanced up at them, her expression still one of pure lust, even as her mind was already elsewhere, trying to reconcile the empty ache that lingered inside her.

Once they were done, their bodies spent, Jieun made a show of licking their cocks clean, sucking gently on the heads, making sure there wasn’t a drop left. When she finished, she smiled up at them, her face still smeared with their release. "Just wait here," she said sweetly, getting to her feet. "I’ll be right back."

As she walked to the bathroom, Jongsuk and Minho collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted and drained. Jieun glanced at them over her shoulder, her face still a mask of seductive satisfaction. But the moment she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, her expression shifted. She leaned over the toilet, spitting out the cum she had held in her mouth, her stomach twisting in knots. The aftertaste lingered bitterly on her tongue as she flushed it away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

The mirror caught her eye, and she stared at her reflection, her face smeared with cum and her eyes reflecting back confusion and frustration. Two men, she thought bitterly. I had two men, and still... The dull ache of dissatisfaction gnawed at her, a cruel reminder that no matter what she did, no matter how wild the night, it wasn’t enough. It never seemed to be enough.

She turned on the shower, letting the warm water wash away the cum on her skin, her mind racing as the water cascaded over her. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be satisfied? She scrubbed harder, the water mingling with her frustration as she tried to cleanse herself not just of the night, but of the emptiness that followed her every encounter.

Once she finished, she wrapped a towel around her body and stepped back into the bedroom. Jongsuk was still lying on the bed, his eyes following her as she moved across the room. Minho had already risen and was heading to the bathroom to shower, knowing he wouldn’t be staying the night with the couple.

Jieun smiled sweetly at Jongsuk, climbing into bed next to him. "Did you like it?" he asked, his voice soft, hopeful.

She didn’t hesitate. "Of course," she lied easily, giving him a reassuring smile. "It was amazing, baby." She leaned in, kissing him gently. "Did you?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking relieved. "It was... really something."

"Good," Jieun whispered, nuzzling against him, hiding the conflict swirling inside her. They snuggled together on the bed, Jongsuk’s arm draped over her waist as he sighed contentedly. But Jieun’s mind was already far away, drifting through the haze of unsatisfied desires.

Minho finished showering, emerging from the bathroom with a smile. "Thanks for tonight," he said, his voice friendly, but tired. "It was... incredible."

The couple thanked him in return, and Jongsuk offered to walk him out, but Minho waved it off. "Nah, man, look after her," he said with a grin, clapping Jongsuk on the shoulder before giving him a quick, friendly handshake. "See you around."

Jieun watched him go, her smile never faltering until the door closed behind him. And then, as silence settled over the room, she leaned back against the pillows, Jongsuk’s arm still around her, her body warm from the shower. But her mind buzzed with one burning question.

Why wasn’t it enough?

Jieun watched as Jongsuk disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the silence left in his wake. As soon as she was alone, she exhaled sharply, biting her bottom lip—not from arousal, but from the growing frustration that had been gnawing at her ever since the threesome had ended. Why hadn’t she felt satisfied? Two men—two cocks—her wildest fantasies lived out right in front of her, and still, that dull ache of emptiness lingered.

She could feel it clawing at the back of her mind, an unresolved hunger that no amount of sex tonight had managed to quell. What’s wrong with me? she thought, her fingers restlessly drumming against the sheets. She couldn’t understand why, after everything, she still felt so hollow inside. But then... a thought bubbled up from the recesses of her mind.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, Jieun reached for her phone, her fingers moving swiftly across the screen. She knew what she was looking for—the video. That certain video. It had been sitting there, teasing her thoughts ever since she’d first stumbled upon it. She quickly found it in his saved videos, and before she could second-guess herself, she pressed play.

Her eyes immediately locked onto the screen, and there they were: two massive, hulking black men, their dark skin gleaming under the lights, their muscles rippling as they towered over the woman between them. Their cocks—fuck, they were enormous, long and thick, stretching the woman’s holes to the absolute limit. The sheer size of them filled the screen, pounding into the woman relentlessly, taking turns fucking her ass and pussy in a way that made Jieun’s breath hitch.

Black men.

She’d watched this video before, but somehow, tonight, the sight of those bulging muscles, that dark, gleaming skin, and those impossibly thick cocks made her pulse quicken in a way that nothing else had. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily as her body responded, her pussy slick with wetness.

Was it not just the threesome that had been missing? Was it them? The size, the intensity, the raw power behind every thrust? As she watched those two men use the woman, filling her up in ways Jieun could only dream of, her fingers instinctively slipped down between her thighs, parting her slick folds as her breath quickened. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen.

The sound of water running in the bathroom faded into the background as Jieun’s fingers circled her clit, her body responding faster than it had all night. She followed the rhythm of the video, the wet slaps of the men’s cocks echoing through the room as they drilled the woman mercilessly. Jieun’s pussy squelched as her fingers worked faster, mirroring the pace of the black men’s thrusts.

Her thoughts became a chant—fuck, fuck, fuck—echoing in her mind as she imagined herself in the woman’s place, stuffed full by two impossibly large cocks, their dark skin pressed against hers, their deep voices groaning in pleasure. The wet, filthy sounds filled the room, and she was so fucking close—closer than she had been all night.

Her fingers moved faster, her hips bucking against her hand as her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in quick, desperate gasps. Just as the men in the video slammed into the woman one last time, Jieun’s body tensed, her fingers slipping deeper into her wet cunt. She let out a soft, muffled squeal, covering her mouth with her free hand as her body spasmed in release. Her juices gushed out over her fingers as she squirted, her whole body shaking as the orgasm tore through her like a wave crashing against a rocky shore.

Jieun’s mind went blank for a moment, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her fingers were slick with her own cum, and the phone lay abandoned on the bed, the video still playing in the background. She blinked, dazed, her breath ragged as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She had just come—harder than she had all night—and it was all from watching that video.

A video of a woman getting fucked by two black men.

Jieun gasped softly, the realization crashing into her with full force. Was that what she wanted all along? Was it not just the idea of a threesome but... them? The size, the dominance, the way those cocks filled the woman completely? Her pulse quickened again at the thought, the wetness between her legs already threatening to return.

Before she could fully process it, she heard the bathroom door open, and Jongsuk emerged with a towel slung low around his waist, his skin still damp from the shower. He was smiling, walking over to her as he rubbed the towel through his hair. "Hey," he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. But when he saw the look on her face, his smile faltered slightly. "Is something wrong?"

Jieun quickly composed herself, forcing a smile as she shook her head. "No, nothing’s wrong," she lied smoothly, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a quick kiss. She kissed him again, more softly this time, before hugging him tightly, her body pressed against his. But as her lips brushed his, she couldn’t stop thinking about those massive black cocks from the video, filling up the woman in ways Jongsuk could never compare to. Her body was already betraying her, the thought alone making her wet again.

They both got ready for bed, slipping under the covers of the king-sized bed they had paid for, Jongsuk snuggling up against her. His arm draped over her waist, pulling her close as he kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, baby," he murmured, his voice low and content.

"Goodnight," Jieun whispered back, forcing another smile as she lay in his arms. But even as his body pressed against hers, warm and familiar, she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind was buzzing, her thoughts racing. She bit her lip, but this time, it wasn’t out of frustration—it was because the memory of those black cocks filled her head, and with each passing second, the ache between her thighs grew harder to ignore.

Is that what I need? she thought, her pulse quickening once again. Big, thick, black cocks... She pressed her legs together, trying to stave off the rising desire that pulsed through her, but it was no use. Her body was betraying her, and no matter how hard she tried to stop herself, her mind kept wandering back to that video. To the sight of those two men using the woman, stretching her to the limit.

Jongsuk’s soft breathing filled the room as he drifted off to sleep beside her, completely unaware of the turmoil swirling in Jieun’s mind. She lay there, wide awake, biting her lip as the thought of being fucked by men like that consumed her thoughts. The ache between her legs refused to go away, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized—that might be what she needed after all.

But what did that mean for her and Jongsuk?

.

.

.

a/n: hiiii! I haven't released anything in a while. With how busy I got and other things, but I was preparing this project series- yes it's gonna be a series- for a while now and I thought it's high time it should see the light of day haha. well that's all for now. I hope you'd look forward to the next chapters! do like and reblog if you enjoyed it mehehe. oh and i'm always open to constructive criticism so feel free to leave some if you want~

[g-xix]

☁️Goalie | AngryGinge13

Summary: Ginge has had an online crush on a streamer which had been made very public on his streams - and landed him a chance to play alongside her in the Sidemen 2023 Charity Match... But when he sees her, does he get flustered and crumble under the embarrassment of everything he's said - or only take it in his stride and make it his goal of making something of this opportunity to flirt with her in real life?

Notes: Based on 2023 SDMN Charity match, v cutesy fic + LONG 8.3k wordcount so ENJOY!!

"Wouldn't it be funny if we got Y/n on the pitch as well?" Simon asked over one Sidecast. Josh, JJ, Vik and surprise guest: Danny Aarons all cracked up.

"You know Ginge has a proper big crush on her?" Danny brought up.

"Are you leaking information?" JJ asked, looking between Danny and Simon. "Can't be leaking Ginge's super secret crush to the entirety of the internet, can you..."

"No, there's clips of him online- look-"

One of the producers cast a TikTok to the screen behind the boys- watching the video of Ginge looking through his for you page during a stream: "IT'S HER AGAIN!" Ginge jumped out of his seat as a TikTok clip of you raging to COD popped up. Although clearly the gameplay wasn't what caught Ginge's attention, as he paused the video and ogled at your facecam before exclaiming: "IS SHE WEARING A UNITED SHIRT?!?!!?" Simon chuckled at Ginge's reaction as he watched the United-fanboy celebrate over his online-crush's attire. Ginge fell off of his chair and onto the floor dramatically, clutching a hand to his heart as he exclaimed "CHAT, HELP ME PLEASE, I NEED TO WIFE UP Y/N IMMEDIATELY- WHY DOES NOBODY ELSE SEE HOW PERFECT SHE IS?!"

JJ giggled as the clip ended with Ginge squirting water on his face to face to cool himself down, clearly flustered seeing you on the screen wearing the beloved United shirt.

"Can you imagine the scenes if we got her to play?" Josh's brain began ticking as he swivelled around to look at the other boys' faces. Vik and Simon could tell by the expression on his face that Josh was clearly trying to figure out how they could make it work, how they could get you playing on the pitch for that day as well.

"Can you imagine how Ginge would react seeing her on the pitch," Vik chuckled, having watched a compilation of Ginge on the SidemenReacts channel just the other day. "He might have a heart attack seeing her in real life after everything he's said about her online."

The boys within the room all shared a look, grins plastered wide on their faces at the idea of getting Y/n on the same pitch as Ginge for the charity match- and Josh knew exactly what he had to do to get that plan sorted.

----

"Y/n, you coming to the match on Saturday?" You saw JJ's face on the phone as you answered the call, angling the screen away from the webcam so that the stream couldn't see the JJ's number. It was currently a gloomy Thursday and you were counting on that match to bring a bit of light to your week.

"Yeah of course! Wouldn't miss a game like that for my nan's funeral."

"How would you like to play?" JJ's face grew into a grin as the chat's speed tenfolded, your hand dropping the phone as you let out a gasp, followed by a shriek, followed by a scream and jumping onto your chair before toppling it and yourself over.

You could hear JJ's joyous laughter from the phone that'd dropped under the desk, before you dove under for it- drawing it closer to your face as you screamed WHAT THE FUCk?!!

One sleep and one train ride later, you found yourself hugging all your Internet-mates once again. You found Niko and Chunkz first, giving the two of them a hug and catching up with them- before you saw Kai and Duke come downstairs together.

You blushed a bit hugging the old-crush Duke, but eased up whilst talking to Kai, who was ecstatically vlogging all three of you, unbelievably excited for the game ahead of you.

A more familiar face popped up a few moments later before Danny Aarons himself descended down the stairs groggily, receiving a warm embrace before he'd even gotten to the bottom of the stairs. He hugged you back, swaying a bit before pulling away to look at you with a grin.

"Get off the kit, Y/n, this the winning team's kit."

"Yeah, you said that about Tottenham before the Fulham game and look how that turned out."

That had Danny silenced as you laughed at his expression, patting him on the back and bringing him down to sit at the hotel's restaurant table with you. You'd managed to arrive just in time for dinner, and whilst you felt slightly underdressed in your comfy joggers and top, you felt comfortable sitting down at one of the tables to the side- Danny occupying the chair opposite you and pulling his phone out just as Simon approached.

"Not stealing the love of Ginge's life are you?" Simon knocked on Danny's shoulder as he passed, snickering and watching as Danny shouted at Simon's turned back in his defence. You furrowed your brows at the mention, Simon's words flying right over your head as you had no clue who Simon was talking about, whoever the named person was. You hadn't even caught the name Simon was referring to.

Maybe Simon was commenting on what he saw on Danny's phone, as Danny had been flicking through Instagram just a moment earlier.

Dinner went just fine, luckily.

Will, Chris, JJ and a few others joined you at different points, having a chat about the match and all the different things... Obviously, you were slightly nervous, but Will reassured you that if worst came to worst, he'd score an own goal to cover any of your fuck-ups.

You saw a tall ginger come down the stairs at some point as well- flicking his head so that his fringe flipped away from his face.

You observed him as he stepped down, his own eyes scanning the room as he looked for where to go or sit during the dinner. You got the chance to look him up and down whilst he did so, noticing how built he appeared. You hoped he'd be on your team, as you could imagine he'd be a strong player regardless of what position he actually played on the pitch.

His eyes found yours momentarily and you realised you had zoned out staring at him.

You pulled back with a blush dusted over your cheeks, looking back towards your fillet and plate, not feeling quite as hungry as you did before. You wanted to go and talk to that guy, but as you looked up again he was nowhere to be seen- not by the food point, any of the tables or the court...

Supposing he left, you turned back to Danny and listened to his story, trying to ignore the thoughts of that ginger guy and wanting to get to know more about him.

And unsurprisingly, you did get to know more about him just a day later.

You'd never been one for morning runs, but the fear of the match day dawned on you and crept up as you watched the sun rise over the Thames. And aching, crawling, horrid bile beginning in your lower stomach and not ending, but continuing up to your throat.

It was futile trying to get any more sleep after that, and so at a ripe 6am, you had your trainers and leggings on, earbuds plugged in and Ice Spice playing to the beating to the same tempo as you breathed. The crisp air was cleansing, refreshing as you crossed the road and continued your jog past the corner shop and onto a busier road, before you found a neat place to loop around and get back to the hotel at.

Through the park, you slowed to a less taxing jog, admiring the greenery in stark contrast to the dull grey of the outer London. You turned the corner, ready to exit the park and make your way back to the hotel when-

"FUCK!" You collided with someone in front of you hard. Your headphones skittered to the floor and your body followed, though luckily you went onto the grass. Still, it hurt your bum a bit, and you squeezed your eyes tight upon the impact.

"Bloody hell, y'alright love?" You heard two knees click as someone bent down besides you- your eyes opening to reveal that ginger you'd seen just the night before.

"You?" You groaned, your hand finding your back and massaging the stinging sensation. You'd hoped you would have at least been able to get ready before seeing that ginger bloke again- having wanted to talk to him looking nice. Afterall, he wasn't half bad looking himself, you'd found yourself thinking.

"What d'you mean you?" He asked, slightly affronted, pulling back slightly to look you up and down a bit meanly. "Thought you would've been a bit nicer."

"You know me?" You raised a brow, not expecting someone like him to be the type to watch your content. His ears cheeks went a pink hue almost instantly and he gulped, making you laugh slightly, not quite knowing why he reacted so nervously yet amused nonetheless.

"Right, enough of that- you on the way back to the hotel?" He asked, offering out a hand which you took, allowing him to help you up and onto your feet.

It shocked you a bit by how much taller he was as he stood in front of you. You thought you'd at least be eye level with his head, yet he was far taller- your head level with his chest, meaning that you had to crane your neck upwards to look at him, despite being near 6".

Your eyes drifted as you heard someone give a disapproving cough as they walked by, flashing a matching disapproving look. Realising your body was basically flush with the ginger that'd helped you up, you blushed and took a step back, picking up your headphones from the side and inhaling sharply as you turned them over to inspect them.

"Broken?"

"Look pretty bad-"

The right side's earmuff fell off before you could finish. The two of you stared at the broken headphone, a noise of suppressed laughter coming from behind you. You turned around and tried to face the guy with a deadpan face- yet with one glimpse of your expression- he burst out with a scream of laughter almost, bending over to let it out which did make you drop your expression to laugh with him- his laughter too contagious.

"You owe me a pair of headphones for that..." Your sentence trailed off as you looked for a name to call him.

"Ginge is the name," He puffed out his chest. "Just call me Morgan, though."

"Right, well, I'm-"

"Y/n? Yep, I know."

The two of you made your way back to the hotel with that, a little bit of small talk between the two of you as you finished your run at the ripe time of half seven in the morning.

"You had breakfast yet?" Morgan asked as the two of you entered the hotel lobby.

"No, you?" You turned to him as he shook his head. "Well then-" You took his hand in yours to take him to the breakfast bar so that he could sit and have breakfast with you- not wanting to be left to eat alone. And although you didn't see, Morgan's face went bright red as he began deeping the fact he had just spoken to his literal online crush, and was now getting breakfast with her - not to mention his fingers which were interlaced with your own already. He could never have imagined that he'd ever be able to do this, just a few days ago when he had gotten the call from Simon inviting him to the match.

Picking your yoghurt, fruit and fancy bits and bobs, you looked around the room for any of the other boys- but it appeared that Morgan and yourself were the first down. Thus, the two of you found a nice two-seater by the windows on the side, and sat to eat with one another.

You realised that Morgan had very nice eyes. Very blue, quite piercing, but his smile always seemed to make them more warm, more inviting. And he had so many stories. I mean, you could've sat opposite him all morning and not spoken a word and still have been entertained.

The two of you kept opposite one another even once your breakfast was finished, just chatting with one another.

Simon was first to come down with Tobi at his side, the two still a bit tired- though their eyes widened, waking up right away as they entered the breakfast bar and saw yourself sat opposite Ginge, head tilted and resting against your hand, staring up at Ginge and listening as he spoke, letting out a giggle before replying as he listened with a pure smile.

"That isn't Morgan with Y/n, is it?" Simon whispered and Tobi let out a little squeal.

"Oh my god, do you think we've just made a couple?!" Tobi whispered excitedly back.

"I'm wondering how the hell Ginge has managed to get Y/n for breakfast..." Simon shook his head. "What the Hell, I thought he'd make a tit of himself in front of her and that would go viral on the pitch... I didn't think that Ginge's crush would become anything real..."

"Reckon we get a Twitter pic?" Tobi turned to Simon with a little grin.

As soon as Simon returned with a smirk, Tobi whipped out his phone, peeking it around the corner and zooming in to the far table and snapping a photo, giggling as he showed it to Simon before pasting it into Twitter and hitting the Tweet button.

"Mission accomplished."

The two high fived before going into the bar and grabbing themselves their breakfast, wishing a good morning to yourself and Ginge before descending into giggles as they ran out of the bar and back to their rooms, gossiping the whole way back like a pair of schoolkids.

You were a bit confused by the first interaction of the morning with Simon and Tobi, and that confusion only grew as more of your friends descended the stairs. Everyone seemed to have their eyebrows raised, a look of surprise on their faces as they saw you and Morgan that morning.

Only Duke and Kai were kind enough to enlighten you on why.

"AYYYY, W RIZZ ANGRYGINGE, W RIZZ GINGE!!" Kai jumped as he saw the two of you sat down, holding out a hand which Morgan tentatively reached out for, Kai slapping them together and shoulder bumping himself with Ginge as he brought Duke over also.

"Morning Ma'am," Duke nodded at you, side-hugging a Morgan that was reddening at a frightening pace, quite similarly to yourself as you just felt slightly flustered at the thought everyone had thought Morgan and you were having breakfast together in a cute couple-y way. "I saw y'all was together from what Tobi posted-"

"What TOBI  posted?" Your eyes went wide, head spinning between Kai, Morgan and Duke at the mention of yourself being posted without your knowledge, just as you noticed Danny entering the breakfast bar as well.

Danny snatched an apple from the counter before spotting you, jerking his head backwards and indicating for you to come with him, as he spot your stressed expression. You gave a quick hug to Kai and Duke, telling Morgan you'd see him in a few and thanks for the breakfast (Kai and Duke squealed and congratulated a tentative Ginge) before you followed after Danny, meeting him in the elevator just before the door managed to close.

"You know who Ginge is?" He asked, looking between you and his phone where he was rapidly typing.

"...Not really, no, I first saw him yesterday to be honest." You shook your head. Danny slotted his phone into your hands and you watched the TikTok on the screen.

"Then you should REALLY watch these clips."

The first clip was titles GINGE'S FIRST TIME REACTING TO Y/N! and showed him scrolling through his TikTok when he saw a clip of you come up, doing a forfeit Rasputin dance and screaming about how your thighs were burning. He was initially wide eyed staring at you at the beginning- and you couldn't even begin to count the number of times you saw him look you up and down on his screen. That clip ended with him clicking on your profile to follow you and follow the link in your bio to your other socials.

The next clip was him @-ing you on twitter, asking whether you wanted to play GTA sometime. He was clearly giddy asking it as well, and he let out a scream as he pressed post and threw his headphones off to run out of shot, still squealing. You let out a chuckle, feeling a bit bad having never received any wind about that tweet and thus not having replied to it.

Then there was a clip of Ginge doing the "throw the pen and if it lands in the jar it's true" challenge, saying "If this goes in, Y/n knows about me and loves me but is too nervous to say something". The pen went in, and Morgan let out a scream again.

Danny took his phone off of you as he saw you smiling down at the phone- your trance broken as you looked up to Danny once he took your phone away.

"So..." You began. "He's cute I s'pose."

"WHAT?!" Danny's mouth dropped open. "I thought you would've found him weird after that?!"

"Well I don't know, he was decent during breakfast..."

"Yeah, about that-"

Danny thrusted the phone back into your hands, Tobi's instagram stories opened. The picture was captioned MORNIGN BREAKFAST DATE? 👀 and featured a (luckily) blurry picture of yourself and Ginge sat at the table with one another, your head resting in the palm of your hand as you looked at Morgan. Luckily it looked as though it were taken from far enough away that it could've been any redhead guy sat with a girl.

"I'm gonna boot that ball at Tobi as soon as I get it on the pitch."

Sidemen_Updates: Picture of mysterious ginger and girl having breakfast together in restaurant! What could this mean? 🤔

sdmnfan1: Ginger? Probs Behz n his missus YANITEDx3: Angry ginge???? HapyyGinge: What are the chances he's w y/n lol     YANITEDx3: No way ugly bastards getting anywhere near her            Y/ncentral: Tbh shes' playing at the match it rly could be                    HapyyGinge: Can you imagine if he's bagged her after all the talk 😭😭😭                            Clarkeysbog: Nah why'd they acc be kinda cute asw...                                      Y/ncentral: Alr guys imma stop u there i think we're getting a bit delulu here

"Alright, love?" Ginge caused you to snap your head up from Twitter with a little snort as he plopped himself down into the seat next to yourself in the bus.

"Didn't realise you were such a massive fan of my content, AngryGinge13."

You only let out another snort as you watched his face slowly flush from pale to bright red like a tomato, his face and hair the same colour as he began stuttering over some sort of explanation.

"What's this, 'wife Y/n up immediately?'" You read out the caption as you displayed the TikTok on your phone, cackling as Morgan groaned, covering his face with his hands and sliding down his seat- most likely praying for the world to swallow him up in that moment. It was quite cute, honestly, and you resisted the urge to reach over and give him a hug.

"It's okay, it's okay..." You settled for patting his head with a devious grin as you continued to tease him in a slightly lowered voice, loving the shyness you'd inflicted on the boy besides you. "You're not half bad yourself, either, but I guess we'll see where that goes after the match..."

Two squeals drew your attention away from your flirting with Morgan, however, as Tobi and Simon giggled from in front of you- Tobi's phone raised above his head to reflect the view of you teasing Morgan- the duo in the seats in front of you far too invested in seeing a love story develop - watching yourself and Morgan through the camera app as though you were a Netflix romance show.

Morgan could only be happy that you'd looked away from him however, because the feeling of your legging-ed thigh brushing against his own skin had a blush creeping across his cheeks - the teasing compliment you'd served causing his ears to turn a lovely beet red, too.

You decided to lay off him, however, instead returning to your phone and chatting with JJ and Chunkz who weren't sat too far away - letting yourself rest your legs across Morgan's lap partway through, and making a little TikTok with him during the journey, too... And the fans were keen to point out your legs stretched across Morgan's, as well as the boy's coy little smile n wave at the camera - cheeks dusted red with a shy blush, contrasting his normal, boisterous persona. 

In the end, you did end up just falling asleep...

On Morgan's shoulder.

And Tobi was the one to let you know, as you arrived at the stadium, stretching you limbs out and cracking your neck before checking your instagram stories whilst rows slowly filed out of the bus. And lo and behold, Tobi's story yielded a picture of him holding the camera up with a hand over his mouth, portraying giggly-shock at the image of you curled up on Morgan's shoulder whilst Morgan held up a meek thumbs up, bemused smile and wide eyes displaying a look of bewilderment for how he'd found himself in such a position.

"Prick", You hissed at Tobi as you walked past him to the changing rooms, hearing the explosion of his and Simon's laughter as well as JJ's confused what? 's whilst you just sped up to Danny, flipping off Kon's BTS camera with a grin along the way, too.

Though you were a part of the Sidemen team, playing on Sidemen FC as goalkeeper, the organiser had been kind enough to organise the locker-room arrangement so that whilst you had your own (barren) changing room separate from the boy's one - a short corridor connected the two so that you could still walk back once they were done changing, and join the team talks.

And after switching your comfy leggings and tee for your kit, you joined with the boys as you walked out onto the pitch.

You could feel nerves building in your stomach as you walked through the tunnel, fingers drumming anxiously along the wall as a nervous stim. And it seemed as though someone else had noticed too, as you felt a soft bump against your right shoulder, drawing a slight gasp from your throat as you were pulled out of your thoughts to look up at the man who walked besides you.

"Nervous?" His Mancunian accent sounded almost mocking, but the eye contact with a seemingly caring expression told you otherwise, and let you give an honest answer.

"I've been alright all morning... Well, after the morning run, but I can feel myself getting nervous now -"

You were cut off by gargantuan roar from the crowds outside, the cheers creating an echo within the opening tunnel and almost wanting to make you press your hands over your ears and run away from the overpowering noise. You could borderline feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and a heat rushing to your neck which made you regret initially answering the phone and sealing your fate in playing in this match. 

Morgan noticed your nerves, too, heart sinking as he saw your expression dropping at the crowd reaction to JJ running onto the pitch.

"Look, listen-" Morgan put a hand on your shoulder, pulling you to the side of the tunnel so that the likes of JME and XQC were free to pass by whilst Morgan's eyes bore into yours. "-It's too late to back out at this point and you know that, yeah?"

You gulped and nodded in agreement, not feeling any better from Morgan's enforcement. 

"And how long you been playing football for - as a keeper."

"Since I was about six," You divulged, not knowing where exact Morgan was going, and feeling your voice come out almost thinly, strained from the fear which tightened your vocal cords. 

"And how many people you got following you - all across the board - on your TikTok, Instagram, Twitch - fuck, you can even could your secret Wattpad account from when you were twelve, I don't care-"

"A few million," You cut him off with a slight laugh at his words, sniffing and trying to clear the nerves and make room for Morgan's positivity to fill your body, too. "And that's not including the Wattpad followers."

"Well there's eighty thousand here - you have millions of followers? Technically that means about eight-hundred-percent of the people here love you -" Morgan's waffle earned a bemused look at the flawed maths, yet you continued listening regardless. "-So that means that absolutely everyone you can hear outside there - yeah - they all fucken love you, so you don't have shit to be scared about, yeah? And you've been keeping for over a decade - you've got skill, you've got talent, you know what you're doing, don't let yourself get scared because we're a duo you and me  - I'm gonna be defending as right-back, you're with me and I know both of us are talented so we don't have shit to get scared about, alright?"

It was odd, hearing the crowd fade out as you focussed on the ginger's waffle, noticing how his eyes seemed to glow whilst his face was barely a few inches away from yours during his passionate ramble. And once he was done, though you didn't feel wholly freed from your nerves, you could wholly appreciate the extent Morgan was going to in an attempt to placate your nerves.

Morgan was stunned as he felt arms wrap around him, eyes widening slightly as the breath left his lungs, making eye contact with Josh who gave him a smirk with questioning eyes - bringing rise to a blush on Morgan's cheeks as he embraced you with his own arms, slowly patting on your back in what was attempted comfort.

His hand slid down from your shoulders to your hand, fingers interlacing with yours and pulling you out of your sad feels as you noticed the warmth of his palm against yours, the way his long fingers seemed to envelop your hand and squeeze your appendage bringing an almost giggly twistiness to your stomach as you could feel a heat spreading across your face at the gesture.

Now was most definitely not the time to be getting crush feelings, and yet you couldn't help yourself from letting those butterflies in your stomach spread to every extreme molecule of your body.

"C'mon, let's go get warmed up outside - we're not playing yet so at least you can get a feel for what it's like out there."

Morgan's hand didn't leave yours. No, his fingers stayed intertwined with yours whilst you two walked towards the light, walking out of the enclosed space onto the lush green of the pitch, feeling the first ray of glorious butter gold sunlight hit your face - the hot air of the pitch flooding you as you left the AC-cooled tunnel - jogging out with Ginge as you heard the uproar of the pitch upon your entrance. The positively uproarious response from the crowd made a smile spread to your face, nerves dissipating slightly as you grinned - rotating your head to take in the stands filled with fans - a grand screen to one side of the stadium projecting yourself and Ginge.

Responding to the crowd's noise, Ginge raised your interlinked hands above your head, the screen projecting your interwoven fingers and only making the crowd even louder - a few screams resonating from the stadium and making you double over with laughter as you reached the Sidemen FC team who were grouped together, kicking a ball between themselves.

"PUTTING ON A SHOW WITH GINGE, EH?" Danny yelled from the other side of the circle, making you detach your hand from Morgan's - though the grin on your face was unwipeable. 

"Look at you two LOVEBIRDS -" JJ loudly chipped in with an overdone wink, nudging your arm from the left. 

"Everything's coming together for you now, i'nt it Ginge?" Simon tittered, as Tobi collapsed into his side at the mention - the duo both enjoying the way that Ginge stuttered to come up with a response (a matching grin also plastered on his face). 

And although you would've loved to have watched Ginge scramble to pull his words together, Josh tapped you on the shoulder, removing you from the group by sending you over to Elz to get interviewed.

Midway through the interview, Ginge was kind enough to boot a ball into the back of your legs, catching your attention just long enough for him to blow a kiss which made you roll your eyes at the gesture, smiling nonetheless.

"That's Ginge blowing a kiss for you there - speaking of Ginge - what sort of relationship do you have with him? Because I'm sure you've seen clips circulating online which show how Ginge has sort of got a little online crush on you..."

"Well, I'll be honest - those clips were only shown to me this morning, thanks to Danny," You spoke, realising how much had happened just today. "And... Well, I think it's difficult to name- or say what mine and Ginge's relationship really is - I mean - we just had our first conversation this morning!"

"OH- does that mean that picture Tobi posted on his Instagram story this morning is in fact you and Ginge - because there's been some speculation on Twitter and whatnot..."

You threw your head back to laugh a bit at the question. "Yeah, I've seen all the comments too... I think the fans are really invested in seeing Ginge and I interact to be honest-"

"Yeah, I'm sure that running into the pitch with the hands held will give the fans some fuel to talk about for a while."

"No doubt about it."

"Could you just expand on what you and Ginge were saying in the tunnel before you came out, holding hands? We had a little clip of the tunnel beforehand, where we saw you with your back to the wall talking to Ginge, and I'll be honest - it seemed very intimate between you two - can we know anything that was going on there?"

That unremovable smile returned to your face - the one that made you feel as though you were trying not to giggle and return to being just a girl with a crush... Not that you exactly had a crush... "I was a little bit nervous back there I'll be honest, and bless him, Morgan- sorry- Ginge was so sweet; he noticed and was just sorta giving me some support and affirming it was all gonna be alright - and yeah, that's why we came out holding hands too, that was Ginge's little gesture to try and boost my confidence up."

"Well, I'm sure whatever he said was true, because we're all expecting an absolute storm from you today on the pitch, Y/n - we'll let you get back to warming up and training, and we wish you luck out there on the pitch!"

You returned to the Sidemen FC circle where the boys did their dynamic stretching - joining in with the line of men that stretched their hamstrings by shooing the chickens on the line. 

"How you feeling now?" Ginge moved to stand next to you whilst he stretched.

"A lot better." You breathed a sigh of relief. "Everything feels a lot more... relaxed, now. You know, it's scary everyone's up there watching but it's kinda easy to separate that. It just feels like playing football with a bunch of people I'm a fan of."

"Exactly how I'm feeling." Ginge agreed. "Let's warm you up in goal."

Fifteen minutes later - after having saved some of Ginge's goals - having a team talk - and feeling primed and ready for the match... Simon won the coin toss, the whistle blew, and the game commenced With Simon passing the ball back to Tobi, and your heartrate accelerating through the roof.

Though Ginge was completely true to everything he'd promised, you noticed as the tall ginger dominated the back line, kicking the ball away whenever Chris or Niko or Filly or Theo came close... Making your work as a goalkeeper light as you allowed Kai - your short friend who was criminally offside - to kick the ball into the back of the net.

As the corner was being taken, although Ginge was attentively marking Speed, he didn't miss the opportunity to yell a quick bit of praise at you between his rugged pants, making Simon yell at him to "SHUT UP AND GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME!", despite the Sidemen's current 1-0 score, lieu to Ethan.

And even when you did let Chris conceded a goal - after he weaved and dribbled the ball between the line of defenders?

Your body hit the ground - an attempted and failed dive whereby Chris' ball had passed just beneath your gloved before you could get it. And letting yourself lie there and rest your head in your arms on the floor, hearing cheers from the audience at the blond superstar's shocking goal - you felt not so ashamed, as one person came to you and sighed - sitting next to you and patting your back whilst you just groaned.

"You're alright, that was pretty un-saveable." He comforted, and you just moved your head to the right to make eye contact with him from the grassy pitch - plopping your head back into yours arms.

"That was fucking embarrassing, that slow-mo is gonna be a violation..." You looked up at the large screen at the end of the stadium that replayed the goal, and your dive as the ball just managed to sneak past your arms. A groan fell from your lips again, because of how goofy you felt you looked.

"Oh come on that's not half bad," Ginge argued, and slung an arm around your back as you decided to get up - accompanying your movements and getting you back up and onto your feet. "C'mon, you've still got this - they've had double the shots on goal that we've had and you've saved all of them other than that one so far. You're already doing miles better than eighty percent of the pitch."

"STOP DISTRACTING Y/N AND GET IN POSITION, GINGE!" Simon's shout came again, though even the blond who was so passionate about the game couldn't help but yell with a grin, at the way that Ginge looked so domestically sweet towards you - a side of the ginger which no-one had seen before.

And luckily, with Simon slotting a goal in and Chunkz getting one in return - you made it to the half time team talk with an equal 2-2 score to either team.

"-So attack is our strongest of the lot, and then in defence I'm spotting really good chemistry-"

Everyone in the circle turned their heads subconsciously towards you and Ginge as manager Wingrove pointed out the chemistry. And you could feel a blush rising to your cheeks as your eyes zipped and noticed how many people within the team had noticed you and Ginge's close connection... And Ginge's arm around your shoulder, which had been stuck their since Clattenburg had blown the half time whistle didn'y help your case much, either.

"But we've got to lock into the game back there. We're taking too long setting up because there's a bit too much chit-chat going on around there."

Simon coughed to subtly conceal the yell of GINGE! that left his lips, that made everyone laugh. Tobi nodded approvingly though, flashing a wink as you made eye contact with him and felt an even deeper shade of red settling across your cheeks.

At least you and Ginge had matching blushes.

"Morgan I know you say I'm your crush on your streams and all-" You leant over to whisper into the Ginger's ear whilst Wingrove spoke to the attackers, the ginger leaning his head down so that he could hear your quiet voice over the noise of the rest of the changing room - creating intimate proxemics. "-But d'you actually mean any of that? Like, are you just exaggerating and keeping all that up for the viewers...?"

Ginge withdrew with wide eyes at the accusation, your words seemingly the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

Although before you got the answer that could placate your nerves and send you out with a dopamine high for the next round...

Cheers errupted from all the boys as Ethan gave his team talk, making the both of your heads snap up like deer in headlights, as you saw the interviewer, Cecil Jee, camera trailing behind him - having caught the team speech as well as the entirety of yours and Ginge's intimate interaction.

Again, you wondered whether it was all being played up for the cameras in that moment, where Ginge tried to comfort you by attaching his hand to yours and giving it a squeeze - all noise turning into a blurry, unintelligible mush of words as Ginge's hand pulled you onto your feet and into the tunnel once more for the second round of the game.

And before you knew it, you were back in the white box of the goal area, clapping your gloved hands together and yelling out towards the pitch.

Ofc course not before Ginge managed to give you your own personal pep talk in the goal square, hyping you up and making you fist bump him with all your body power before hugging him whilst you heard another cheer bubble from the crowd, which was undoubtably for you two and the romance that they saw blossoming on the pitch, between their favourite creator and the man that they thought would never have a chance.

But no more than ten minutes after after Ginge's cute little speech, did you watch him brutally floor a little blond man in the penalty area - and referee Clattenburg's whistle sounding, deducing a....

Penalty.

"I'm gonna fucken kill you if I concede because of your stupid, illegal tackles," You hissed at the ginger as he came up to you practically splurging his apologies whilst you watched JJ take on Chunkz and and Kai in a wrestling match besides Chris at the penalty spot. "Holy shit, they've got Speed taking this pen?!"

You were horrified to watch the boy place ball down and eye you up like prey.

"Morgan, I'm gonna die-" The hyperbole fell from your lips too easily as you felt pressure begin to consume you.

"Y/n if you concede I promise I'll shatter his shins-" Ginge caught your horrified look. "Outside of the penalty area so you don't have to deal with another pen, of course-"

"Shut up and go to the edge so that you can run in and boot the ball away when I deflect it, you right twa-"

Tobi pulled Ginge away, overhearing the conversation - and Danny - a part of the opposition only took Ginge's place.

"You and Ginge been getting chatty." He raised a brow and you rolled your eyes.

"You're not allowed to distract me before a pen." You gave a blunt response, and the stubborn boy crossed his arms and only took a step closer so that he was even more in your personal space as he began interrogation.

"Have you two just agreed to play it up for the media, or is Y/n genuinely getting up in her feels?" Danny teasingly persisted, yet only asked the question that'd been on your mind for the entirety of the second half. And it most definitely wasn't what you needed reminding of as you back-stepped into the goal, star jumping and telling the persistent boy to fuck off, as you tried to get in the zone yet couldn't shake off the annoyingly smirking brunet.

Taller, more built and ginger-er - your partner in defence plucked Danny from besides you like a teddy bear, picking Danny up and removing him from the goal square (much to your relief), and letting you lock in - star jumping and clapping your hands together to lock yourself in and follow the ball as Speed took his steps backwards run up to the ball, bounding towards it and striking it towards the side, sending it rolling towards...

....The centre?!

Your hands collected the ball at your knees with minimal effort as you looked up with confusion - almost expecting Clattenburg to say that Speed had to redo it.

Although instead you were met with the Sidemen boys running over to you, cheering for scoring the absolutely abysmal shot that'd been saved whilst Ginge practically crushed you with a hug, screaming "LET'S FUCKEN GO - I NEVER DOUBTED YOU FOR A MINUTE-"  Whilst you felt overwhelming dopamine filling your system as you let out a victorious yell of your own - telling the boys to scatter before thundercunting the ball further up the court and watching at the ball you kicked lead to an assist as Manny flicked it into the goal XQC marked.

You were running on a complete high as you watched Manny score another - then Tobi - followed by Harry... And even though Max Fosh and Niko managed to get their balls fly past your fingertips and into your goal's net - watching Tareq just tap the ball into the bottom left as the whistle blew...

A scream left your mouth at the victory, as the rest of the pitch and crowd broke into their own celebrations - though the ginger man who had carried the defence alongside you?

He instantly whirled around once the whistle sounded, Ginge making eye contact with you whilst his face broke out into an uncontrollable grin, pointing you out and sprinting over with the fastest speeds you'd seen all day as you joined in with running towards him, shortening the distance bit by bit before you jumped onto the man who was no less than a metre away.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, his arms wrapping around your body as yours tightly enveloped his shoulders, burying your cheek into the ginger head of hair that'd been made spiky from sweat and exertion of the game - though just as much as Ginge didn't care about your sweaty body that pressed into his, you couldn't have cared less as you two tightly embraced, every muscle in your body jittering in excitement of the win which you celebrated with you accomplice on the pitch.

And then you had everyone else swam you - another pair of arms around your back, and then your side, as a huddle of Sidemen FC formed with yourself on Ginge's hips - elevated at the centre, were projected onto the grand screen at one end of the stadium, Harry and Tobi and Simon and Ethan and JJ and Josh and Vik, Wingrove and MrBeast and Deji and Lux and Freezy-

Ethan lift the trophy with a cheers whilst sparks of orange and yellow escalated from the pyrotechnics on either side of the stage, the whole crowd cheering as you all jumped and took it in turns lifting the trophy and getting a cheer of your own.

And after Ginge had lifted it - you felt pats on your back, pushing to to the front of the stage to hold the cup up with the ginger, hearing the loudest cheer yet as you and the previous-fanboy-now-friend lifted the cup up alongside you - electricity crackling between the two of you as you placed it down carefully, before finding himself thrown back around you and hugging you happily as the dopamine flooded through your systems.

"GINGE, Y/N - CAN WE GET A POST MATCH INTERVIEW FROM YOU TWO?"

Elz pulled the pair of you towards the mic as Ginge's arm detached from around your shoulders to pick up a mic and hold it between the two of you.

"Congratulations on the win, you both played spectacularly and I have no doubts you're both feeling absolutely ecstatic  right now, is that right?" 

Ginge nodded and you went to answer the question. "You've hit the nail right on the head, Elz - honestly - we were both sort of asked to join the game on a whim - and to have so many good moments on the pitch together... Yeah, completely over the moon really."

"And we have seen those moments on the pitch - and in the changing room, when you two have been really very close, and you two most definitely have the most chemistry on this pitch!" Elz voiced the fans' thoughts with a wide grin, getting the inside scoop of the chemistry and absolutely loving it. "But will your chemistry remain off of the pitch? We've seen from your clips, Ginge - you've had yourself a little thing for Y/n, but we've never seen it reciprocated until today... Will we be seeing more of you two as a duo?? Maybe even as the next YouTube couple on the scene...?"

You were completely stunned by the question - looking from a curious Elz up towards the ginger with a crush - watching as he smiled bashfully, hand raising to sweep his fringe from his eyes in a way that looked shy now, as he looked and smiled down at you - taking the mic from your hands to ask...

"Well, I think that's up to Y/n, if she'd maybe want to come out for a d-date with us sometime-"

Ginge was cut off as a scream left Elz's mouth at the young romance she watched unfurling in front of the cameras, as you yourself couldn't voice your own interest enough - nodding your head rapidly whilst Ginge's grin spread to your own lips.

And in a moment of greatness, where the two of you had both won the cup and were at peak stages of happiness - your delight was only raised even further by Ginge asking you out - and you felt his arms come beneath your legs, picking you up and ending the interview whilst holding you bridal style before marching back to the changing rooms still carrying you, your arms slung around his neck whilst you couldn't help the giggles n redness on your face that had you feeling like a mere teenager.

And walking through and into your separate, secluded changing room - he dropped you down so that you could sit on one of the benched whilst he sat besides you, also still sporting a wide grin of his own.

"Morgan?" You felt your voice take a more tentative, cautious tone as there was a slight shake in your words. "You didn't answer at half time and I still don't really know and just wanna make sure we're on the same page, really... Are you... Are we... Are you - i dunno - serious about wanting to go out on a date, and all of this? Or is it all just for the viewers and content..."

Again, Ginge looked at you like you were mental.

"Y/n, you flipping div," The insult fell all too easily from his lips, and made you furrow your brows together. "I've thought you were the most hot and out-out-my-league lass since I found you on TikTok - then Twitch and then YouTube too - the fact that today you've shown any signs of liking me back, I should be scared of you just doing this for content, not the other way round."

"What I'm trying to say is it's not for content, I do really like you and I would really l-like to go on a date with you... As long as you're still on with that.."

A sigh of relief followed by a squeal of happiness left your lips before you reattached yourself to Ginge's body to hug him, feeling your heartrate decelerate as it was confirmed; Ginge did indeed like you and it wasn't all for the cameras.

Feeling a surging throughout your entire body, you reached up and planted a kiss on his right cheek - the side that you were cuddled up to, squeezing him one last time before commanding him to get out so that you could change - collapsing against the metal bench and giving yourself a breather to take it all in, the moment that Ginge left.

That was, until, you heard the conversation fall silent in the Sidemen boys' connected changing room, before someone asked "Well Ginge, what happened?"

Again, there was another silence - and you pricked your ears to listen in and see how Ginge would respond to the question. 

"SHE KISSED ME!" Was what you heard him yell, before the rest was covered with the deafening roar of cheers from the other boys, making a laugh bubble from your throat at the fact that not only had you played and successfully won the trophy for your team - but you'd also succesfully secured yourself a date with someone who made you blush, laugh and feel loved.

BONUS SCENE!!!

New post on Insta from @/angryginge13!

AngryGinge13: Best day of my life. Thank you Sidemen and Y/n.username

open replies

Y/n.username: 😋💗      DannyAarons: stop thirsting in the replies      Kaicenat: W RIZZ      Y/Ncentral: AHHHH I CANT BELIEVE SMTH HAS HAPPENED BETWEEN THESE TWO             HapyyGinge: LITR MENTAL INNIT                  Yanitedx3: Still dont know how he's bagged her 😭😭😭

Miniminter: @/tobjizzle LOOK AT WHAT WE'VE DONE YAY        Tobjizzle: If we aren't front row at their wedding there's gonna b issues              Ksi: wait guys i technically am part of this too, i invited her to the match                    Miniminter: Shut up you aren't a part of this.

New post on Insta from Y/n.username!

Y/n.username: Yeah you're never gonna hear me shut up about this.

open replies!

Angryginge13: Better than Onana 💗     Yanitedx3: this man is so locked in if he's saying shit like that

Tobjizzle: LOOK @/miniminter SHE'S POSTED HIM TOO JKDJFSH       Miniminter: THIS IS OUR BEST ASSISST YET             Y/n.username: shut up you guys 😭😭            Angryginge13: I cannot thank you boys enough.

Chunkz: Yeah none of the posts from our elevator photoshoot i see how it is      Y/n.username: saving those for when Vogue finally calls me back 

XQC: the better goalkeeper 👏         Y/n.username: Respect to you, great game 💓🫡               Angryginge13: Not as much game as me though clearly 🔥                     Y/n.username: Shut up we're having a moment

I started this last year after the charity match i shit u not it's taken a whole YEAR to write LMAOO 😭😭 Hope it's been worth it x

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see… Much love!!

To see more, here’s my MASTERLIST

And here’s my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

p.s. Customise which Oneshots YOU want to be tagged in by submitting your preferences on THIS GOOGLE FORM + join the taglist!!!

GINGEEE TAGLIST:

@clarkeysbog, @springholland, @xxkatxgracexx, @mekselinaurr, @blackbat2020

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@lyssaluvs, @daniiixoxo, @thankunextx, @boatshrimp @amberrrx

[p3sephone]

My baby. (Dark! Ex! Wanda Maximoff x reader)

Prologue

Summary: you are Wanda's ex and you broke up with her a long time ago. Then Wanda decides it's a good idea to become your neighbor and take her baby back, one way or another.

Warnings: this is a dark! Serie about Wanda Maximoff that will contain dark themes such as violence, breaking in, non-con and similar stuff in the future chapters. Every chapter will have its own warnings to be safe. This is pure fiction and this character does not belong to me. Minors are NOT allowed, only +18. Any kind of interactions such as reblogs, comments or likes are much welcome and appreciated. 🤎

Prologue warnings: breaking inside, little use of magic.

"I'm home!" you exclaimed with a smile on your face, closing the door behind you. You were happy to be back, you had a wonderful surprise for your roommate. You were sure that she hadn't suspected anything, after all you hadn't mentioned anything in these weeks and you knew how difficult it was. You had lost count of how many gifts and surprises you had ruined because you often spoke before thinking out of excitement.

But this time you didn't think, as you walked briskly towards the living room. The lights were on, she was surely sitting there on the couch watching some movie. You were already anticipating the scene. Your smile quickly dropped as the gift bag slipped from your hand and fell to the floor. The personalized mug inside had surely broken into a thousand pieces, but that was now the least of your problems.

Your roommate was lying there, apparently asleep, but you knew that wasn't the case. Not when Wanda was sitting on the other side of the couch with her arms crossed, then looking straight into your eyes. She had a small smile on her face, sly and arrogant you would say, but you could see all the hatred hidden behind her eyes. You were together, as teenagers, a long time ago. Wanda had lost everything, you too: you had regained everything and left Wanda behind, and Wanda had lost what was left of her, left with total nothingness. Considering that you had left her too. Or at least, that was what Wanda thought; in reality, your version would have been very different from hers, but you weren't really sure she wanted to hear it and even less that she was interested. "What are you doing in my house?" your own cold tone surprised you. It was as if someone else was talking to you and you didn't know how your knees could still hold up. But Wanda wasn't stupid, she could feel how your heart was beating like crazy, this still allowed her to act arrogant. She stood up from your couch and walked over to your boyfriend’s sleeping form, approaching you and freely ignoring your question.

“Is this your house? Our apartment was better.” It was a suggestion, obviously. It wasn’t the first time Wanda had tried to make you change your mind and tell you that the two of you were meant to be together, and at first you believed it. The first, the second and even the third time. Then you finally realized that she would tell you anything and lie shamelessly just to have you back by her side and reduce you to an object again.

You had loved that woman, but it was over. And she had to understand that.

“No, this house is better, with my roommate who I sincerely hope will wake up soon.” You made a suggestion and she immediately took it, laughing in your face.

“She’ll be fine, I just put her to sleep... I wanted to be alone with you, I missed you.” she said playing with your hair, and you could almost see the sincerity in her now slightly sad face. But you couldn't fall for it again and you had certainly been through too much because of her.

"But I haven't missed you, Wanda. Get out of my house."

You had caught her attention now, her fingers slowly stopped playing with your hair finally letting it go. Now you saw the real Wanda. Her hateful gaze with a red aura was intensely scrutinizing you and you swore they could see much more than your eyes or your face. Her eyes immediately became clear again and Wanda gave you a sweet smile, waving her right hand and using her magic. You remembered what that magic had done to you, you still had the scars.

"I can also go out, after all we will see each other every day. It's a pleasure to meet you again, neighbor!" she teased you giggling, then walking out of your door without you even accompanying her. You stood there in shock, standing numb in the doorway to the living room, watching the front door close and then the couch, where your roommate was now starting to wake up.

The nightmare had begun again.

[artyandink]

𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 | 𝟏

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You were the only one Sherlock ever truly loved, and it was true. No lady ever caught his eye, no woman stole his attention the way your wit and charm did. He supposed it was his own fault for losing you, his own fault that you walked out his door, leaving a young child with him that was now old enough. Old enough to want to find her mother. He wanted to find you. But he also didn’t want to. It meant to face his own truth.

𝐓𝐖: angst, set after Enola Holmes 2, bad father-daughter relationships, child abandonment, heartbreak, stubborn Sherlock, oc!daughter, stubborn daughter so the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, identity concealment

𝐀/𝐍: surprise! Decided to post early ;)

𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓/𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: I MISS YOU, I’M SORRY BY GRACIE ABRAMS

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐀𝐃 no one learnt their lesson yet?

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He groaned, stepping past the burly police guards to get into the scene of the bank robbery— oh, now they’re stopping Watson, what was it with these blasted, bloody policemen? Guess nobody had bothered to even instate smarter policemen after Grail and his cronies got fired (in Grail’s case, a very broken neck). “Didn’t I tell you not to be ridiculous? He’s with me. Holmes and Watson.”

“Sorry, Mr Holmes, sir.” One of the policemen muttered, gesturing for Watson to pass through, the man looking a little bemused and unfamiliar with his surroundings. Ah. Right, Watson wasn’t acquainted with the life of a detective.

He stepped up beside Sherlock, looking around at the bustling room of policemen who were trampling all over the crime scene, which made his job that much more frustrating. “What are we looking for, exactly?”

“Clues.” Sherlock replied, rubbing his chin for a moment then spotting an approaching Lestrade from across the room. Oh, bother. Lestrade. “Act busy, Watson.”

The question seemed to baffle Watson, as he raised his eyebrows in confusion and bewilderment. “What? Why—”

An obnoxious laugh, followed by— “Mr Holmes? Or is there still an invitation for Sherlock?” The lack of laughter clearly told him no. “Ah. Well, apologies for the bother,” yes, you are a bother, Lestrade, “but we have someone claiming to be your daughter.”

Oh, bother. Again.

“I’ll handle it.” Sherlock muttered, knowing exactly who Lestrade was talking about. With heavy footsteps — and heart — he made his way across the room, seeing a girl who looked startlingly like her mother, something which tugged at her heartstrings. She had a scrutinising look that mirrored his often as she looked at the crime scene, but she was not meant to be here. Not at all, not now, not any day. “Clara.”

She turned around, huffing slightly at the stern tone, an eyebrow raising in response to his short and sweet sentence. “You could sound happier, you know.”

“I’ll sound happy when you’re not trodding on my crime scene.” He grimaced, gesturing around at the marbled bank. Really, what was it with people making his day more difficult? Even if Clara was his daughter, yes, he could give her more favour, but he wasn’t in the mood today.

That was the excuse he’d given for the past sixteen years of your life.

The deceivingly polite hum she gave in return mocked him, he knew it, he’d been hearing it more times than now. “I don’t see your name on it.”

“You don’t need to.” He took her arm, giving her a stern look once more, because why on this green Earth does his daughter have to trouble him so? “Clara, I highly advise that you return home. It isn’t safe to do my job.”

“And yet you let Enola do it.” Ah, that was true, but Enola was a rather frustratingly free spirit and he had less control and watch over her than he did you. So he could make that odd excuse for himself.

Couldn’t he?

Watson approached the two, which gave him the chance to divert from the rather valid point, gesturing between the two. “Ah, Watson. This is my daughter, Clara.”

“Dr John Watson.” Watson offered a friendly smile, to which Clara did too and shook his hand— this man seemed amicable, to say the least.

“Pleasure.” She replied warmly, feeling rather friendly towards this man. The firm handshake ended as Clara turned her attention back to Sherlock, a smirk playing at her lips. “Alright, Sherlock,” she began, voice laced with a playful defiance. “If it’s so unsafe, why don’t you show me? Let me see what you’re so keen on keeping me away from.” She glanced at the scattered, chaotic scene. “Maybe you need a fresher pair of eyes on this anyway.”

Sherlock’s expression tightened. He’d managed to avoid bringing her into his world all these years, and now, in the middle of a chaotic crime scene, she was pushing him to let her in. “This isn’t the time or place for amateur eyes, Clara,” he said in a low tone, already feeling the familiar pulse of frustration beginning to rise. “And I would advise you to stop before you make a fool of yourself.”

Clara shrugged, undeterred. “Just thought I’d offer. You never know, I might surprise you.”

Holmes bit back a retort as Watson watched the exchange with bemused curiosity, clearly amused by the sight of someone matching Sherlock’s intensity without a hint of deference. “I see stubbornness is a family trait,” he muttered, folding his arms as he leaned in beside Sherlock.

Lestrade, who had been standing off to the side and soaking in the drama, took the opportunity to interject. “Mr. Holmes,” he drawled, crossing his arms as he looked between father and daughter with raised eyebrows, “are we here to solve the crime or conduct a family reunion?”

Holmes’s mouth twitched in irritation, but he let it pass. “Right. Watson, you’re with me. Clara—” he pointedly ignored her expectant expression— “you’re waiting here with Lestrade.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Oh, wonderful. I’ll stay here and learn all about the art of loitering from Inspector Lestrade.”

Lestrade opened his mouth, but Sherlock cut him off, heading toward the center of the room with Watson in tow. “Now,” he murmured as they stopped beside the broken bank vault, “let’s have a look.”

Watson peered inside the gaping vault door. “They took quite a haul, didn’t they?”

“Not just any haul,” Holmes murmured, narrowing his eyes as he took in the disturbed items, the displaced dust, the carelessly strewn stacks of paper. “This was messy—too messy.” He crouched down, scrutinizing a particular set of footprints in the dust. “It’s almost as if they wanted us to believe they were inexperienced.”

Watson frowned. “But why would they do that?”

Holmes traced a hand over the edge of the vault’s interior. “The more time we spend looking for amateurs, the less time we spend looking for professionals.”

Watson nodded thoughtfully. “So they’ve planted a false trail, hoping to throw us off their scent.”

“Precisely.” Sherlock straightened, his mind churning through the details. His gaze flicked back toward the corner of the room, where Clara stood. Against his better judgment, he motioned her over. “Alright, Clara. Since you insist on staying, why don’t you tell me what you see?”

Clara’s eyebrows shot up, surprise flashing across her face before she schooled it into an air of composed observation. She glanced around the vault, taking in the state of the room as her father had done moments before. After a few seconds, she looked back at Sherlock with a wry smile. “They’re trying to lead you down the wrong path, aren’t they?”

Holmes’s eyes widened, just slightly. “And what makes you say that?”

Clara pointed at the shoeprints left in the vault. “The prints are too heavy-handed, too deliberate. Someone’s been stomping around as if they wanted to make sure every detail would be noticed.” Her gaze shifted to the scattered papers on the floor, arranged just a bit too carelessly. “Almost as if they’d never done this before—and wanted to make sure we knew it.”

A proud smile tugged at the corner of Sherlock’s mouth despite himself. “Not bad, Clara. Not bad at all.”

Lestrade, who had wandered over to listen, snorted. “A chip off the old block, eh, Holmes?”

Holmes ignored him. Instead, he glanced at Clara, a faint glint of approval in his eyes. “Very well. Since you’ve already inserted yourself into this, let’s see how much you can keep up.”

“Gladly,” Clara replied with a smirk, her tone far more confident now that she’d received a sliver of approval.

Watson chuckled, nudging Holmes with his elbow. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a new apprentice, Holmes.”

Sherlock groaned, but there was a resigned acceptance in his expression. “Don’t remind me.” He turned, leading the trio out of the vault. “Lestrade, call in the forensics team, and see if they can track down anything unusual with those footprints. Watson, Clara—let’s move.”

As they began to exit the bank, Watson glanced sideways at Clara. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him that rattled,” he whispered, grinning. “You’ve a knack for keeping him on his toes.”

Clara shrugged, the glimmer of pride unmistakable in her eyes. “Someone’s got to.”

Clara adjusted her bonnet in the small, gilded mirror in the parlor, smiling at her reflection with a touch of nerves. She rarely dressed up, but today was different. She was meeting Enola—her aunt, yes, but more than that, her friend, her confidante. Enola understood Clara like no one else in her family, and Clara had looked forward to this afternoon, knowing it would be a rare moment of laughter, freedom, and truth. Besides, she had an idea that her sharp-eyed aunt wouldn’t mind a bit of teasing about her newest friendship with the charming Lord Tewkesbury.

Peeking out the window, she saw Enola striding down the street with a familiar energy, her chin tilted high and her gaze direct. Enola moved as if she belonged to no one and nothing, and watching her always made Clara feel a thrill of admiration. Moments later, her aunt burst through the parlor door, her face lighting up when she saw Clara.

“Clara, darling, you look radiant! Has something thrilling happened?” Enola asked, her tone teasing, but her gaze keen.

“Oh, nothing terribly exciting,” Clara replied, unable to keep the grin from spreading across her face. “But I could say the same for you, couldn’t I? You’ve that certain glow… perhaps from all the secret meetings with Lord Tewkesbury?”

The smile flickered from Enola’s face for just a heartbeat before she laughed it off with a wave of her hand. “Honestly, you’re incorrigible.”

They settled into the cushioned armchairs around the tea service, with the delicate china cups and a plate of scones, but Clara could see that her words had struck something in Enola. As her aunt poured tea, her movements were brisk and efficient, but Clara noticed the faintest blush on her cheeks, a telltale sign she was rarely allowed to show.

Clara let the silence linger for a beat, sipping her tea with a knowing look, until Enola finally laughed, giving in. “I ought to know better than to try hiding anything from you. Sherlock may be the great detective, but you’re the most observant one in this family, Clara.”

“Guilty as charged,” Clara replied, grinning. “And it’s hardly my fault—you’ve hardly hidden the signs. I’ve noticed that particular look in your eyes each time someone mentions his name.”

Enola’s fingers tightened slightly on her teacup, her lips pressing together for a moment as if unsure of how much to say. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. He’s just… interesting. He treats me like a person, you know? Not like I’m some delicate flower to be admired from afar.”

Clara raised her eyebrow, refusing to let her aunt off so easily. “Interesting, hmm? That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one. He’s called on you half a dozen times in the last fortnight. Are you certain it’s ‘nothing’?”

A faint, wistful smile touched Enola’s lips, though she tried to disguise it with a sip of tea. “Fine, if you must know—he has expressed a certain… interest. He asked if he might call on me more formally, in fact.” Her voice softened, and Clara could see a flicker of uncertainty there that she’d rarely seen before.

Clara bit back a smile, hiding her excitement behind her teacup. “Oh, Enola! And what did you say?”

“I told him I’d… consider it,” Enola admitted, looking away for a moment, clearly conflicted. “But, Clara, it feels so dreadfully conventional, doesn’t it? I’ve never wanted to be one of those women, sitting pretty at someone’s side and pretending I’m satisfied with needlework and society visits. But… there’s something about him that feels different.”

Clara’s smile softened, and she reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Enola’s. “You’re not one of those women, Enola. You’re extraordinary. And if he’s calling on you, knowing exactly who you are, then maybe he sees that too. I don’t think you’d have to change a thing.”

Enola looked down at Clara’s hand on hers, her expression thoughtful. “You really think so? I’ve always told myself there was no room in my life for courtships, for the expectations that come with it all. But with him… I feel as though I could just be myself.”

“Exactly,” Clara said softly. “Maybe he’s more than just ‘interesting,’ after all.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, both of them lost in their thoughts. Clara watched her aunt carefully, seeing the subtle changes in her face as she considered her words. She’d never seen Enola uncertain about anything before; her aunt had always been fiercely independent, but there was a tenderness in her expression that was new.

After a moment, Enola broke the silence, smiling at Clara with a touch of mischief. “But enough about me. What about you, Clara? Surely there must be some gentleman interested in the great Sherlock Holmes’s daughter?”

Clara nearly choked on her tea, laughing. “Oh, absolutely not. For one, I doubt any man in his right mind would willingly subject himself to Father’s scrutiny. He’d investigate everything about him before we’d even finished tea.”

Enola chuckled, nodding. “I can only imagine. Sherlock would be positively unbearable if he suspected someone was pursuing his daughter. But you mustn’t let that stop you from living, Clara. I can tell he’s proud of you, even if he doesn’t say it outright.”

Clara’s gaze softened, and she let out a small sigh. “I know he is, in his way. But sometimes I feel like he’s more protective than proud, almost possessive. As if he’s afraid I’ll leave him somehow.”

Enola’s face softened, and she reached out, squeezing Clara’s hand gently. “I understand. Sherlock has always struggled with connecting to people, even family. But you’ve done more than anyone to draw him out of himself. Even if it is merely an inch.”

Clara looked down, trying to hide the sudden rush of emotion. “It’s comforting to hear that. And it’s a relief to talk to you about these things, Enola. I can’t say them to anyone else.”

For a moment, they sat in quiet understanding, sipping their tea and watching the afternoon light filter through the lace curtains. Finally, Enola’s voice broke the silence, her tone soft.

“You know, I’ve often wondered what it must have been like, growing up as Sherlock’s daughter,” she said gently. “Did you ever feel lonely?”

Clara hesitated, letting the question settle around her. “Sometimes, yes,” she admitted. “Sherlock’s mind is always working, and it was hard to reach him. I grew up thinking that was normal, that fathers were supposed to be distant and distracted. But it wasn’t until I grew older that I realized how unique he is—and how much I love him for it, even if it’s difficult at times.”

Enola smiled, understanding. “You’re right to love him. He’s a complicated man, but I think he knows he has something precious in you.”

Clara returned the smile, feeling a warmth in her chest. She leaned back, looking at her aunt with a thoughtful expression. “Sometimes I wonder if we women of the Holmes family are destined to lead lives more complicated than most.”

Enola chuckled, raising her teacup in a playful toast. “Perhaps so. But we’re Holmes women—we’ve always known how to rise to a challenge.”

“To the Holmes women,” Clara echoed, tapping her cup against Enola’s. They drank, sharing a smile that held years of understanding and unspoken support.

The dim, late-afternoon light was fading through the frosted windows of Clara’s modest flat as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, letting out a long sigh. Her day had gone from thrilling to exhausting in a matter of hours, thanks to her father’s stubbornness and the chaotic mess at the bank. She barely had time to set down her bag when she heard a faint knock at her door. Opening it, she found the postman standing there with a single letter in hand.

“Afternoon, Miss Holmes,” he said, tipping his cap.

She accepted the letter, thanking him politely, and shut the door, examining the envelope in her hand. It was thicker than usual, her name written in swirling emerald ink. Something about it felt… unusual. She moved to her small kitchen table, where she gently broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

My dearest Clara,

You must be wondering who I am. I am your mother, and this letter is long overdue. I left when you were only a year old—not out of a lack of love, but out of circumstances I could not control. It has been one of the deepest regrets of my life, and not a day has passed without thoughts of you.

I am certain you have many questions, perhaps even anger, and I will understand if you do. But know this, Clara: I loved you then, and I love you now. Your father and I… well, things grew complicated, but I miss him as well, even though I know his heart is not easily won back.

With all my love,

Your mother.

Clara read the letter twice, her hands still. She was unsure how to process the surge of emotions. Her mother… a woman she had no memory of, yet had spent years wondering about, had suddenly reappeared in her life with only this brief, tantalizing message.

Her mother was alive. And she missed her.

Her fingers traced the elegant, swirling letters as her mind raced. She felt a strange mix of excitement, anger, and wariness that left her stomach knotted. She’d spent her entire life wondering about this mysterious figure, and here was the chance to finally know more. But, at the same time, there was a gnawing sense of resentment—the feeling of abandonment, the ache of growing up without even the smallest memory of her mother.

But this was not a decision she could make lightly. Sherlock had always been tight-lipped on the subject, dismissing questions or deflecting with wit or cold silence. Now, she’d received more about her mother in a few sentences than her father had given in sixteen years.

Clara’s thoughts were interrupted as she realized she hadn’t moved in nearly ten minutes, still clutching the letter as if it might vanish. She quickly slid it back into the envelope, setting it down on the table. Then she paced back and forth in her cramped flat, glancing every so often at the envelope as though it might hold all the answers she needed.

Finally, she sank into a chair, the letter held in both hands as she tried to calm her mind. She recalled moments over the years—questions she’d asked Sherlock, the clipped answers, the discomfort that shadowed his otherwise composed demeanor whenever the subject of her mother arose. A part of her wanted to storm back to Baker Street and demand answers, but she knew he’d only retreat behind a wall of indifference.

For now, she’d have to rely on the letter itself, on the words her mother had chosen so carefully.

The hours slipped by as Clara turned the letter over in her mind, running her fingers over the rich green ink and wondering if the faint scent of lavender clinging to the page was intentional or a mere coincidence. When she finally managed to pull herself away from the letter, it was nearly dusk, and the world outside her window was settling into the quiet hum of evening.

There was something raw and earnest there, a vulnerability that felt deeply out of place in her life—something almost… foreign.

She was almost startled when the knock at the door echoed again. Her mind raced, wondering if somehow her mother was on the other side. Heart pounding, she went to open it, but it was only Mrs. Donahue, the elderly woman from down the hall, who’d come to check in on her, as she often did.

Clara managed a smile, exchanging small talk and listening patiently to the latest updates on Mrs. Donahue’s collection of pet cats. All the while, though, her mind drifted back to the letter. Once her neighbor had left, she sat down with her notebook and pen, beginning to draft a response.

Dear Mother,

Thank you for reaching out to me. I must admit, receiving your letter has been… unexpected. I have questions, certainly, and perhaps even some anger that I cannot yet name. I grew up knowing only my father, and while he was… well, Sherlock, he raised me alone, and I had few memories or even stories of you.

I don’t know what to think about your leaving or how I’m supposed to feel now that you want to see me. You’ve said you miss me, but I need to know more—about you, about the circumstances that led to your departure.

I really do want to meet you again.

Yours sincerely,

Clara.

As she finished, Clara took a deep breath, sealing the letter and addressing it to the return address her mother had provided in the countryside. It felt surreal, sending a reply out into the unknown, as though reaching through a foggy past. She didn’t know what would come of it, or even if she wanted a relationship with this woman who had so suddenly re-entered her life. But she did want answers—and she knew she couldn’t ignore this chance, however strange it felt.

With her reply tucked away, Clara took one last glance at her mother’s letter before extinguishing the light and preparing for bed. She lay awake, the darkness only sharpening the conflicted feelings swirling within her. It was a strange mixture of curiosity and trepidation, mingled with the faintest glimmer of hope she was almost afraid to acknowledge.

The morning was cold and gray as Sherlock stepped out into the brisk London air, tugging the collar of his coat up against the biting wind. He’d been summoned by Mycroft, and, though he didn’t care much for such meetings, he’d decided it was best to comply this time. The man never summoned anyone without purpose—especially not his own brother.

Arriving at Whitehall, he was ushered through the labyrinthine halls with all the formalities expected of government offices. The building loomed around him, its thick stone walls and tall, narrow windows giving the place a sense of unyielding authority. Everything here was impeccably neat, everything in its place—a stark contrast to the chaos of Baker Street, with its cluttered stacks of books, scattered notes, and curious relics from cases past.

Sherlock reached the last corridor, a long, dimly lit stretch of polished wood and brass fixtures. Mycroft’s office lay at the end, an austere and intimidating corner of the building, its large oak door carved with intricate designs. Sherlock paused, his hand on the brass doorknob, glancing at his own reflection in the polished surface. His face was calm, but there was a hint of weariness around his eyes—a faint remnant of the sleepless nights spent on the latest string of cases. But here, he needed to wear the veneer of composure. Mycroft would tolerate nothing less.

He opened the door, stepping into his brother’s domain. The office was vast, with tall ceilings and large windows draped in heavy burgundy curtains that framed the muted gray light outside. Shelves lined the walls, filled with meticulously ordered files and ledgers, the dark wood glistening from years of polish. A massive mahogany desk dominated the room, its surface immaculate, save for a single crystal inkpot, a brass letter opener, and several neatly stacked documents.

Behind the desk sat Mycroft, every inch the imposing government official. His perfectly tailored suit, his carefully manicured hands folded on the desktop, and his steely, inscrutable gaze all contributed to an air of detached authority. He watched as Sherlock entered, his expression giving nothing away.

“Sherlock,” he greeted, his tone cool and measured.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock replied with a slight nod, crossing the room to stand before the desk.

For a moment, neither spoke, each studying the other. There was an old, familiar tension between them, a silent rivalry that had never quite faded. Though Sherlock prided himself on his ability to remain unfazed by most things, Mycroft’s scrutiny always had a peculiar effect on him, as if he were a schoolboy called to account.

“Sit,” Mycroft finally said, gesturing to the leather armchair opposite him.

Sherlock lowered himself into the chair, crossing his legs and lacing his fingers together. He kept his gaze steady, waiting for Mycroft to state his purpose.

“I trust you know why you’re here,” Mycroft began, his voice carrying the quiet authority of a man used to being obeyed.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “An assumption, Mycroft. I would have thought you’d know better.”

A flicker of annoyance passed over Mycroft’s face before he leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. “I called you here because of Clara.”

The mention of his daughter’s name caused a subtle shift in Sherlock’s expression, though he quickly masked it. He inclined his head slightly, waiting for Mycroft to continue.

“I received reports that she recently received a… peculiar letter,” Mycroft said, his tone carefully neutral. “From her mother.”

The words struck Sherlock like a physical blow, though he refused to let it show. He had spent years building walls around that part of his life, shutting away the memories of his former wife with a determination that bordered on ruthless. Yet, here they were, dragged back into the light, as if the mere mention of her name could summon a past he had tried so diligently to bury.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, his voice cool, almost detached. “A letter arrived for Clara recently. Written in emerald ink, her mother’s handwriting unmistakable.” He paused, the memory of the letter fresh in his mind. The flowing, ornate script, the words carefully chosen yet laced with sentiments he had long since ceased to indulge. “It seems she wishes to reconnect.”

Mycroft leaned back in his chair, his gaze never wavering. “And what are you planning to do about it?”

“Nothing,” Sherlock replied. “The matter is for Clara to decide. She’s old enough to form her own judgments.”

A slight frown creased Mycroft’s brow, his expression hardening. “Sherlock, we both know that allowing Clara to engage with such… sentimentality would be unwise. You cannot afford to be swayed by remnants of a life you abandoned long ago. I need you to remember the person you are now, the clarity you’ve achieved. Falling back into old patterns would be… detrimental.”

Sherlock held his brother’s gaze, his own expression growing colder. “I’m not a fool, Mycroft. I’m aware of what’s at stake. I haven’t forgotten the reasons for that chapter’s closure.”

Mycroft studied him in silence, and in that silence, Sherlock could feel the weight of his brother’s unspoken expectations. He knew that Mycroft regarded sentiment as a weakness—a flaw that had no place in their carefully constructed lives. And Sherlock had once shared that view, perhaps even more fiercely than Mycroft himself. But Clara had changed things. Clara, with her sharp mind and fierce independence, was a constant reminder of the life he had built after severing ties with his past.

“My point,” Mycroft continued, his tone colder, “is that you have responsibilities—both to Clara and to yourself. Indulging her curiosity could lead to complications that neither of you are equipped to handle. And as for… her mother…” He paused, his face hardening, as if even the mention of the woman was distasteful. “Reopening that door would only invite chaos. I trust you haven’t forgotten that.”

Sherlock’s jaw tightened, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. “I am perfectly aware of the risks, Mycroft. But I won’t dictate Clara’s choices. She is her own person.”

“Her autonomy is not the issue here,” Mycroft countered sharply. “The issue is that she is a Holmes, and that comes with expectations. Emotions and nostalgia have no place in this family. We were raised to understand that.”

For a moment, a surge of resentment flared within Sherlock, memories of his own emotionally barren upbringing surfacing unbidden. He had learned early on that sentiment was something to be kept under lock and key, that any display of vulnerability was a liability. Yet he had fought against that conditioning for Clara’s sake, wanting to shield her from the colder aspects of the Holmes legacy.

But now, sitting across from Mycroft in this austere office, he felt the weight of that legacy press down on him once more, suffocating and inescapable.

“I understand your concerns,” Sherlock said finally, his tone measured, carefully devoid of emotion. “But I will handle this situation in my own way. Clara is not a child, and I refuse to impose limitations on her merely because they suit your sensibilities.”

Mycroft’s gaze grew colder still, but he remained silent, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the surface of the desk. The room felt heavy, the air thick with unspoken tensions that seemed to settle over them like a shroud.

“Very well,” Mycroft said at last, his tone clipped. “But consider this your only warning, Sherlock. I won’t tolerate any lapses in judgment where she is concerned. Sentiment is a distraction, and distractions lead to vulnerabilities. And vulnerabilities, in our line of work, can be fatal.”

Sherlock held his gaze, feeling a pang of resentment at the admonishment. He knew Mycroft’s words were rooted in a twisted sense of duty, but they grated against the part of him that wanted, however reluctantly, to trust Clara’s ability to navigate her own path.

“Understood,” he replied curtly, rising from the chair. He cast a final, lingering glance around the office—the shelves stacked with secrets, the air thick with the scent of leather and ink, the oppressive quiet that seemed to permeate every corner of this place. It was a stark reminder of the life he had chosen, of the sacrifices he had made, and of the distance that now separated him from the man he had once been.

As he turned to leave, Mycroft’s voice stopped him.

“Sherlock.” The tone was softer this time, almost a warning. “Don’t let sentiment blind you. You know what it cost you the last time.”

Sherlock paused, the words hanging heavily in the air. He knew, all too well, the price he had paid. And yet, for all his resolve, he felt a flicker of doubt—a faint, nagging whisper that refused to be silenced. But he crushed it down, turning his gaze to the door.

“Yes, Mycroft,” he said quietly, his voice a cold, measured echo in the stillness. “I remember.”

“Father.” It was one word which caught Sherlock’s attention as his daughter simply burst into his flat as he was working the details of the bank robbery with Watson the next day.

Oh, go ahead, just sweep into his apartment like a small tornado right when he’s busy. His daughter summarised in just one sentence. “Clara.”

“Clara.” Watson piped up, probably to not feel left out of the cold exchange and to make it a little more friendly.

Clara smiled at Watson, clearly more accustomed to him than Sherlock. “John.” That raised Sherlock’s brow, as what just happened? That wasn’t normal, that wasn’t ever normal.

“John?” He repeated incredulously, glancing between the two of them to try and fathom the use of first names. “Since when was it John, pray tell?”

Clara rolled her eyes; trust her father to be a nosy busybody about all her business. She looked pointedly to Watson, who got the hint, gathering up his things. “I’ll have a cuppa with Mrs Hudson.” He muttered as he hurried.

“No, Watson, ask her to make me…” The door slammed shut, a heavy sigh from Sherlock fading into a pensive expression that spoke many volumes, his hand dropping to his side. “Mrs Hudson makes… wonderful tea.”

“I’m sure she does.” She replied dryly, inviting a glare of incredulity from Sherlock— Mrs Hudson deserved the world, she was an exemplary landlady, why the tone which sounded like it had been through a substantial drought. “Now, we have to talk.”

He frowned slightly, taking a puff from his pipe and setting it aside. What could you possibly want from him? “Yes? What about?”

“Mother.” The word stiffened him up, everything rushing back. He never thought he’d find the day, but he supposed you were inevitable.

You. It was always you, it always came back to you.

You were Sherlock’s one exception, his only mistake, but it was a mistake that he’d most likely make a million times over. It had felt like his vision was in dull noir before it burst into glorious colour the moment he laid eyes on you, the witty, oh-so-charming woman who’d stolen his heart so effortlessly. You were beauty in its finest form and good Lord, you had a brilliant mind that rivalled his own.

In truth, you were the enigma he took true pleasure in decoding.

He had been young, foolish, and he’d fallen for you, courted you, and you’d done the same. It had come to the point where even a few hours spent away from one another made your hearts ache and experience pain greater than the most devastating blow. So he’d married you, loved you, cherished you, and it felt like a whirlwind. His mind, his cases had become nothing more than a speck of dust and you had consumed him— mind, body and soul.

It wasn’t extensive to say that no matter who he saw or who attempted to have him, he’d always be yours.

Barely a few months after the marriage, you had turned out to be with child, and he had never been happier, never been more elated, more protective of you, abandoning all cases that came his way to keep you safe, to focus on you. And what’s more is that he became a new man once Clara was born. The second light of his life, and everything seemed so vibrant, so surreal, sublime, and he knew that he’d never find a love like this. A love that made him feel alive.

Good things were never meant to last, however, for a month after Clara’s first birthday, things had seemingly got too dangerous for you once you and Sherlock had resumed taking cases while Mrs Hudson cared for Clara. You’d left with only one conversation, not allowing room for him to plead with you, to tell you to stay, that you were his driving force.

To no avail, for you left, and you left him a broken man, unable to look at his child — your child — without seeing you. It hardened him, forced tunnel vision in front of his eyes as he no longer saw Clara, just the woman he’d loved and lost because he hadn’t fought hard enough. He couldn’t bear to see you in his daughter. Mycroft called it sentimentality.

Sentimentality was his sin.

He muttered your name, his thumb moving to rub over his wedding band, every small memory you both shared seared into his vision and into his being. Sometimes he wished he had a lesser mind, at least then he could forget you. Or stop loving you.

He couldn’t let Clara suffer the same.

“What about her?” His voice had gotten sharper, he noticed, almost like the dagger that had twisted in his heart the day you left. To this day, his heart still bled, like a dead man walking.

Clara showed him the letter, and yes, he immediately knew it was you. Your handwriting was unforgettable, the way you wrote the letter ‘S’, the small teardrop next to his name and the emerald green ink that had always stained your pointer finger on the page in beautiful lettering. “She wrote to me. I want to find her, Sherlock.”

Oh, dear Lord. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t have his heart broken again.

“No.” He shook his head.

The air in Sherlock’s flat felt thick, and every nerve in his body tensed as he faced his daughter, the letter clutched in her hand like a weapon ready to break open old wounds. Sherlock's fingers gripped the edge of his chair until his knuckles turned white, as if holding on for balance against an emotional tide that threatened to pull him under.

"No," he repeated, his tone colder than he intended. "I won’t allow it."

Clara’s eyes narrowed, and her face twisted in a mixture of disbelief and anger. "What do you mean, 'won’t allow it'? I’m not a child, Sherlock. I can make my own choices."

Sherlock felt the familiar pang of guilt gnawing at him. His gaze flickered to the letter, the one written in that all-too-familiar handwriting. It was as if just seeing her words, her distinctive, elegant hand, brought every memory flooding back, each one pressing down on him until he could hardly breathe. But he forced himself to maintain composure, his voice sharp and unwavering. “You don’t understand the implications, Clara. She left for a reason. Digging into that past—” He stopped himself, taking a steadying breath. “It’s not wise.”

Clara stared at him, eyes wide with anger and hurt. “Not wise?” she echoed, her voice thick with emotion. “What isn’t wise, Sherlock, is to keep avoiding this. She’s my mother, and you can’t just erase her from my life because you’re afraid of facing whatever it is that happened between you two.”

“Afraid?” Sherlock’s lips curled in an incredulous sneer, but it was a mask, thin and brittle. “You think this is fear? I am protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” Clara repeated, her tone scathing. “No, you’re protecting yourself. This has nothing to do with me, or what’s good for me. You’ve never even told me anything about her, Sherlock—not one detail. I know more about John and Mrs. Hudson than I do about my own mother, and that’s because of you. You never gave me the chance to know her.”

Sherlock’s jaw clenched as Clara’s words hit him like a series of blows, each one harder than the last. He knew she was right—she deserved to know about her mother, about the woman who had left them both behind. But every time he’d considered it, his heart had balked, resisting the idea of opening himself to the pain he had buried so deeply. To speak of her was to relive the joy and the anguish, and it felt like reopening a wound that had never fully healed.

“This isn’t about denying you knowledge,” he said, but his voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears. “Some things are better left in the past.”

“Because you say so?” Clara shot back, her hands shaking slightly. “I have the right to find her, Sherlock. She’s the one who reached out to me, not you, and I’m not going to let you stand in my way.”

He rose from his chair, the motion sudden and forceful. “Clara, you don’t know what you’re dealing with. Your mother isn’t the person you imagine her to be. You were a baby when she left. You don’t understand the complexity, the danger—”

“The danger?” Clara’s voice trembled, and she laughed bitterly. “There you go again, always shrouding everything in mystery and secrets. Do you ever think that maybe I’d be better equipped to handle things if you’d just told me the truth from the beginning?”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was filled with unspoken words, regrets, and the weight of years spent in avoidance. Sherlock’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second, and he considered, for the briefest of moments, telling her everything. But the years of habit, of training himself to keep his heart locked away, proved stronger.

“This discussion is over,” he said finally, the words cutting like ice. “I won’t permit it.”

Clara stared at him, disbelief and hurt flashing across her face. “You really are heartless, aren’t you?” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. “All that intelligence, all those brilliant deductions, and yet you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” She took a step back, shaking her head. “I thought, maybe, there was a part of you that could care… that there was some semblance of family left between us. But I was wrong.”

Without another word, Clara turned on her heel and stormed out of the flat, the door slamming behind her with a force that rattled the windows. Sherlock flinched, a rare, unguarded reaction breaking through his normally stoic expression.

For a moment, he stood there, the silence of the flat pressing in on him like a weight. The letter sat on the table, the emerald ink glistening faintly in the dim light, taunting him. He resisted the urge to reach for it, to read the words he knew would cut deeper than any blade.

“Sherlock?” The soft voice broke the silence, and he looked up to see Mrs. Hudson standing hesitantly in the doorway, having been drawn by the commotion. She took one look at his face, and her expression softened with concern.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured, her eyes drifting toward the letter on the table. “Would you like some tea?”

Sherlock took a deep, steadying breath, forcing his composure back into place. He nodded, though his voice sounded distant, as if it belonged to someone else. “Yes, Mrs. Hudson… I think I would.”

���𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

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[lilacbunnygirl]

to hold you forever

.ᐟ warnings: cunnigulus, fingering, sad gojo returning from a mission :(

.ᐟ author's note: it started out as a complete short smut scene but turned into something different...

“Toru- I… I can’t-”

“What? Can’t handle it anymore? You’ve been saying the same thing for half an hour. I don’t care. I haven’t touched this pussy in two weeks,” Satoru sped up the movement of his fingers inside you. “Yes, take it all baby. Damn, your walls are so warm I want to keep my fingers here forever.”

Satoru Gojo was always a man hungry for you. When you were together, not a single second passed without him touching you. It didn’t have to be about sexual —whether he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist while you cooked, or lying with his head in your lap while watching a show, forcing you to stroke his hair, any kind of touch was enough for him. The most important detail here was that the only person he wanted to touch was YOU.

Only you.

It had been an hour since your boyfriend returned from a special mission. The moment he walked in, you could see the hunger in his eyes. You’d been apart for much longer before, but this time it was different. It was as if he had been taken over by the feeling that he might never touch you again. Sitting calmly reading on the couch, he came over, snatched the book from your hands, and tossed it across the room. When he grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss, he finally indulged in what he’d been missing for two weeks.

There was no softness in your kiss. Your lips moved with intense hunger and passion. As you surrendered to the moment, a soft moan escaped your lips, causing Satoru to pause. You didn’t understand what had happened. When your eyes met his—eyes the most beautiful shade of blue—they looked back at you with even more desire than when he first walked in.

When your back hit the couch, Satoru wasted no time. He practically tore off your pajama bottoms, then discarded your underwear by ripping it entirely. Positioning himself between your legs, he lifted them onto his shoulders and began to eat you out.

And since that moment, he had continued to do the same thing. You remembered your sixth orgasm vividly. You were now coming much more quickly and more often, to the point where you’d lost track of how many times it had happened. The interesting thing was that Satoru hadn’t lost any of the energy he had an hour ago. While his fingers found and pressed your G-spot, his tongue was sucking and licking your clit. The wet sounds he made while licking only fueled your desire further. You didn’t complain about anything. Yes, you were tired, and most likely part of the couch was soaked with your fluids and Satoru’s saliva. But you knew your boyfriend well, and even if he tried to hide it, you knew something bad had happened to him during his mission. The look you’d seen in his eyes when he came home showed not only a need to possess you, but also fear and concern.

Finally, after struggling to open your eyes, you managed to do so. Your hands were already in Satoru’s soft hair. Instead of pushing his head further between your legs to ask for more, you lifted his face to make him look at you.

His mouth was covered in your fluids. His eyes were unexpectedly bloodshot, and tears streamed down his face. His breathing was uneven due to the way he was silently crying while licking you without tiring.

Seeing him like that shook your entire world. The person you valued most in life was vulnerable, hidden, and quietly crying between your legs. Yet you hadn’t even noticed because of the pleasure you were experiencing.

“Toru…”

“Please, I want to keep—”

“Toru… please come here.” With one hand still holding his face, you used the other to gesture toward his favorite resting place, your chest.

Satoru closed his eyes and, without resistance, pulled out from between your legs and leaned against your chest. As his arms wrapped around you, your heart raced as if it would leap out of your chest. You felt the same every time he held you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? I’ve known you haven’t been okay since you came back, but I didn’t think it was this serious. God, I should have stopped you from going in the first place. Why did you—”

“I don’t want to talk.” His arms tightened around your waist. “All I want is to hold you like this forever. Please, my love.”

His words caused the tears you had been holding back to start flowing. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to hold you. With your hands, you began to gently stroke your boyfriend’s head as it rested against your chest.

“You can hold me forever, Satoru.”

He lifted his head from where it rested and looked into your eyes. Then he pressed a kiss onto your chest, where his tears had soaked your Mikey Mouse t-shirt, before resting his head back over your heart. As he listened to your steady heartbeat, trying to relax, he whispered in a tone that even he could barely hear it.

“Please don’t ever stop beating.”

all rights reserved @lilacbunnygirl don't copy and translate my works.

[steephanie07]

Hidden in Plain Sight - CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Gasly! Reader

Summary: YN returns to the Formula 1 paddock, but when her brother Pierre discovers her secret, a confrontation leads to the fallout that forces them to navigate the fallout and seek forgiveness.

Word count: 2,2 K

YN stood at the edge of the bustling paddock, her heart racing more than the cars that zipped by just a few meters away. The smell of burning rubber and the roar of engines filled the air, a symphony of adrenaline that made her feel alive. She had missed this—the thrill of Formula 1 racing, the camaraderie among the teams, and the electrifying atmosphere. But most of all, she had missed Charles.

After years of studying art in Paris, where the city’s beauty and creativity had infused her soul, YN was finally back home. It had been an intense journey filled with new experiences, but nothing could compare to the feeling of being near Charles again. Their long-distance relationship had been challenging, filled with late-night video calls and whispered promises of togetherness. But now, as she stood there, she was determined to make the most of their time together, even if it meant sneaking around.

Charles Leclerc was the star of the show that day, and YN felt a flutter of pride as she watched him interact with his team and fans. He was focused, determined, and undeniably charming. But there was a secret that hung in the air, one that made YN’s heart race even faster than the cars on the track. No one knew about their relationship—except for Kikka, Pierre’s girlfriend. Pierre, her protective brother and Charles’s best friend, was blissfully unaware of the love blossoming between them.

As the day wore on, YN found moments to slip away from the crowd. She would text Charles, their conversations filled with playful banter and stolen affection. They arranged to meet at his hotel room after the day’s events, a safe haven where they could be themselves without the prying eyes of the F1 world.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight,” YN typed, her fingers flying over the screen.

“Me neither. Just a few more hours,” came Charles’s reply, followed by a heart emoji that made her smile.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, YN felt a flutter of excitement mixed with anxiety. She navigated through the bustling crowd, carefully avoiding anyone who might recognize her. The last thing she wanted was for Pierre to discover her secret.

After the race concluded, YN hurried to Charles’s hotel, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she had to be careful. As she approached the door, she glanced around to ensure no one was watching. With a deep breath, she slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind her.

“YN!” Charles exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face as he pulled her into an embrace. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” she whispered, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. They stood together for a moment, savoring the feeling of being reunited.

“Did you see the race?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I did! You were amazing out there,” she said, genuinely impressed. “I think everyone could feel your determination.”

As they settled into a cozy corner of the room, the atmosphere shifted from excitement to intimacy. They shared stories of their time apart, laughter filling the space as they reminisced about their shared moments and the adventures YN had experienced in Paris.

But their bubble of happiness was about to burst.

Just as they were getting comfortable, the door swung open unexpectedly.

“Hey, Charles, I just wanted to—” Pierre paused, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him.

YN froze, her heart sinking. In a panic, she quickly darted into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She pressed her back against the wall, trying to control her breathing, her heart pounding in her ears.

“What’s going on here?” Pierre asked, his voice filled with confusion and anger.

“Nothing, Pierre, just… I was sorting things out,” Charles stammered, trying to deflect.

“Are you hiding something from me?” Pierre asked, suspiciously eyeing the room.

YN listened from inside the bathroom, her heart racing. She could hear Pierre’s voice growing more tense, and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She hadn’t meant for things to turn out this way.

Before Charles could come up with a convincing excuse, Lando Norris and Carlos Sainz burst into the room, laughing and eager to celebrate.

“Charles! Come on, let’s go! Everyone’s waiting!” Lando called, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Pierre shot Charles a glare. “What were you doing before we walked in? Who were you hiding?”

Charles opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Pierre’s gaze fell on the bathroom door.

“Is someone in there?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

YN held her breath, praying Pierre wouldn’t knock. Just as he took a step toward the bathroom door, Kikka entered the room, sensing the tension and immediately stepping in to diffuse it.

“Hey, Pierre! Why don’t we head down to the celebration?” Kikka said, giving him a warm smile and placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve been talking all week about celebrating with the team!”

Pierre hesitated, glancing suspiciously at the bathroom door again. But finally, he nodded, somewhat reassured.

“Fine, but we’re talking about this later, Charles.”

As the door finally closed behind them and Pierre and Kikka left, YN exhaled a long breath and stepped out of the bathroom. Charles pulled her into his arms immediately, whispering, “That was way too close. I’m so sorry you had to hide like that.”

“I know… It’s just so hard,” YN said, her voice breaking a little. “I don’t want to keep hiding us anymore.”

Charles stroked her hair gently, nodding in understanding. “I don’t either. I hate lying to Pierre. But if he finds out… I don’t know how he’ll react.”

YN sighed, feeling the weight of their secret pressing down on her. Later that night, while Charles was busy with the post-race celebrations, she found herself confiding in Kikka.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” YN admitted as they sat in a quiet corner of the hotel lounge. “I feel guilty every time I look at Pierre. And now with all the other drivers starting to notice…”

Kikka gave her a sympathetic look. “It’s a lot to carry alone, YN. But you love him, don’t you?”

YN nodded, feeling the warmth rise in her cheeks. “Yes, I do. But Pierre—he’d never understand.”

Kikka reached out and squeezed her hand. “Just remember, whatever happens, you have people who support you.”

Over the next few races, YN and Charles continued to steal moments together, but the drivers were starting to notice. Lando was the first to figure it out. One evening, while they were hanging out after a race, he caught Charles glancing at his phone with that familiar smile.

“You’re texting YN again, aren’t you?” Lando teased, nudging Charles.

Charles tried to brush it off, but Lando saw right through him. “Come on, man, you can admit it. I already know you’re into her. And she’s Pierre’s sister, right?”

Before Charles could respond, Carlos chimed in. “I thought I saw her sneaking into your driver’s room the other day. Is something going on between you two?”

Charles looked between his friends, realizing that keeping it a secret was quickly becoming impossible.

“Look, yes, we’re together,” he admitted quietly. “But please, don’t say anything to Pierre. He doesn’t know.”

Lando’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Oh, we won’t tell him. But you know this is gonna be a lot harder to keep hidden now.”

Carlos chuckled, giving Charles a pat on the shoulder. “Good luck with that, mate.”

As word subtly spread among the drivers, it became an open secret in the F1 paddock. They would see YN slipping away to meet Charles or catch the way he looked at her from across the room. It became almost a game, with the drivers watching out for any new clues about their relationship. But Pierre, somehow, remained in the dark.

The turning point came during the Monaco Grand Prix weekend. After a successful race, Charles invited YN to his hotel room, excited to spend some private time together. They shared laughter, whispered dreams, and embraced the rare moment of peace. But their bliss was interrupted when Pierre suddenly burst into the room.

“Charles, are you in here?” he called out.

YN’s heart dropped, and in a split second, she scrambled to hide, darting into the bathroom and shutting the door quietly behind her. Pierre looked around, his gaze sharp as he noticed the faint signs of someone else’s presence.

“Charles, if you’re hiding someone in here, just tell me.” Charles’s face went pale, but before he could stop him, Pierre opened the closet door to find YN standing there, looking guilty and panicked.

“YN?” Pierre’s face fell in shock, and then fury. “You… and Charles?”

YN stepped out slowly, her cheeks flushed as she struggled to meet her brother’s gaze. “Pierre, I… I wanted to tell you. We wanted to tell you, but—”

Pierre cut her off, his voice trembling with anger. “You’re my sister. And Charles is my best friend. How could you both hide this from me?”

Charles tried to interject, his voice steady but pleading. “Pierre, listen—I love her. We didn’t mean to keep it from you, but we wanted to protect what we have.”

Pierre’s eyes flashed with a mix of betrayal and rage. “Protect what? By lying to me? Do you have any idea what this feels like?”

His words stung, and YN reached out, but Pierre pulled back, his expression cold and hurt. “I need space,” he said, turning toward the door. “Don’t expect me to forgive either of you anytime soon.”

With that, Pierre stormed out, leaving YN and Charles standing in stunned silence, the weight of their secret crashing down on them. YN’s heart ached as she realized how deeply she’d hurt her brother.

In the days that followed, Pierre didn’t return their calls or messages. Charles tried several times to reach out, but Pierre ignored every attempt. It was clear he wasn’t ready to talk—or even acknowledge them.

Kikka, seeing the strain this was putting on everyone, decided to step in. She approached Pierre one evening, finding him sitting alone and brooding.

“Pierre, I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be,” Kikka began softly. “But they didn’t hide this from you to hurt you. They were just trying to figure things out.”

Pierre crossed his arms, his expression stubborn. “That doesn’t change the fact that they lied.”

Kikka sighed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “They care about you, Pierre. Maybe they went about it the wrong way, but don’t shut them out forever. YN is your sister, and Charles is like family to you.”

Pierre looked away, his jaw clenched, as he struggled with his emotions. “I don’t know if I can forgive them. Not yet.”

Kikka nodded, understanding the pain he felt. “Take your time. But remember that they’re hurting too. When you’re ready, they’ll be waiting.”

Over the next few weeks, Pierre kept his distance, ignoring YN and Charles whenever they tried to reach out. The silence felt heavy, and YN struggled with the pain of being shut out by her own brother. Charles was equally hurt, knowing he’d let down someone he considered family.

But eventually, Pierre reached a point where he couldn’t keep avoiding them. One evening, after a long day at the track, he messaged YN and Charles, asking them to meet him in his hotel room.

When they arrived, YN felt a mix of relief and anxiety. Pierre sat across from them, his expression serious but less angry than before. He looked at YN first, and she could see the hurt lingering in his eyes.

“You should have told me, YN,” he began quietly. “I would’ve been surprised, maybe a little shocked, but I would’ve accepted it. You’re my sister.”

“I know, Pierre, and I’m so sorry,” YN said, her voice filled with regret. “I just didn’t want to complicate things for you or Charles. We thought… maybe we could handle it on our own.”

Pierre nodded, understanding but still processing his feelings. Then he turned to Charles, who sat up straighter under his gaze.

“You, Charles… you’re my best friend,” Pierre said slowly. “That’s why this hurt so much. I trusted you, and I never thought you’d keep something like this from me.”

Charles met his eyes, his voice steady. “I’m sorry, Pierre. You have every right to feel betrayed. But I love her, and I’ll do anything to make this right between us.”

Pierre took a deep breath, glancing between the two of them. He could see the love and commitment in their eyes, and though it wasn’t easy, he finally nodded.

“Alright,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ll accept this. But Charles,” he added, his gaze turning intense, “if you ever hurt her, you’ll regret it. She’s my sister, and I’m trusting you to take care of her.”

Charles nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of Pierre’s words. “I promise, Pierre. I’ll never give you a reason to regret this.”

With that, Pierre softened, reaching over to pull YN into a hug. She felt a wave of relief wash over her as she held onto her brother, grateful to finally have his acceptance.

As they pulled back, Pierre managed a small smile. “Just… don’t keep any more secrets from me, okay?”

YN laughed, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I promise. No more secrets.”

Note: This is one of my first story, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes. I would greatly appreciate any feedback, on the story itself and what you think of it.

[jusst-you-race]

Do you think that in the ccc universe the 2010s grid would have (or try to) an orgy that ended up in disastrous consequences for everyone involved?

STOPPPP this made me laugh so hard okay details under the cut for Obvious reasons (explicit. be aware.) (it’s also… long…)

Firstly!!! everyone is sleeping with everyone let’s be clear here… Seb in particular is quite happy getting around, as is Jenson…

I think the dynamic these two have is very much just friends with benefits except to the Extreme… like they’re discussing a movie they both watched while Seb is tied to the bed with Jenson’s fist up his ass type of dynamic so. I think the idea of the orgy probably starts from them. They’re kissing and telling and sharing notes and it just spirals from there!

Mark is the first victim of their note swapping, for obvious reasons. He’s Jenson’s best friend, he’s the guy Seb is pretending he doesn’t have a massive crush on, they’ve both had sex with him, obviously it’s a topic of conversation! And it’s Jenson that suggests a threesome. Seb tries very hard to be chill about how into the idea of it he is, Jenson sees right through him, one thing leads to another and the three of them have a Great night together.

After, Seb and Jenson do their usual casually chatting about the most absurd things, like Seb asks Jenson something about Nico and Mark is like what the fuck do you two just… talk about the other people you’re having sex with? And he gets a bit weird about it and Obviously Seb and Jenson take that as their cue to be Annoying and Seb goes “Maybe you should invite Nico to our next threesome” and Mark is bright red at this point and Jenson just grins and is like “only if you invite Lewis” which makes Seb howl with laughter because can you imagine???? Those two???? (who are a very toxic on again off again couple at this point) and Mark, flustered and awkward but trying to joke around too goes “might as well just invite the whole building”

And that is where the orgy idea Starts.

Now not everyone is involved, some of them are smart and know to stay the hell away from that mess, some of them are happily married (Felipe’s husband is Rob because I love them with my whole heart), but it’s surprisingly easy to convince a large group once Seb and Jenson start floating the idea past their hookups… Lewis and Nico are the first ones roped in, and it’s partly as some weird psychosexual play against each other where like they both want to be super chill about the orgy to piss the other one off.

Seb tells Kimi who shrugs and is like why not, I’ll bring the little Finn…

Romain somehow just Knows and informs Jenson he’ll be there, much to Jenson’s bewilderment

Seb invites Nico, who invites Checo, who invites Kevin (all of them show up simply out of curiosity)

Mark accidentally ropes Fernando into it when he’s bemoaning what he got himself into and Fernando is like well there is no way I am missing out on this orgy I will come too. This does not help Mark feel better about it at all.

And then Jenson decides to invite the new kid too, which Seb thinks is hilarious, and the two of them corner a recently moved in Daniel who gets all flustered by being cornered by two hot blonds and isn’t quite sure what the hell he’s got himself into by moving here but no way is he turning down an opportunity for an orgy

Somehow a time and a date gets set and people awkwardly rock up to the orgy, all very unsure but intrigued nonetheless, and they walk in on an absolute Scene.

Nico, in lingerie, with a sheer fluffy dressing gown on, mid screaming match with Lewis (thankfully fully dressed), while hand cuffed to Seb (only in an oversized shirt and briefs) who’s clearly trying as hard as he can not to laugh, while Jenson (in jeans but shirtless) desperately tries to pick the lock of the handcuffs somehow looking deeply stressed and deeply amused at the same time. Mark and Fernando are sitting on the couch behind them with expressions of distaste and glee respectively.

Upon seeing this almost everyone nopes the fuck out right there and then and the orgy plan quickly falls apart… the only people who don’t choose to close the door and slowly back away are Kimi, who rolls his eyes before shoving Jenson out of the way and picking the lock in three seconds flat, and Daniel, who’s a little confused but thinks it would be rude to turn down the invitation when he’s still so new

No one’s much in the mood for sex after that

[srslyblvck]

the devil you know, avengers

pairing: avengers x fem!reader

synopsis: the avengers seem really desperate as they come to you—the person who went under their skin like no one else to help them win against hydra. while they are walking on eggshells around you, you are having fun causing chaos.

warnings: mentions of y/n (maybe), blood, violence, gore

word count: 3.5k

chapter: 6/?

series masterlist

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU WOKE UP FEELING better than the night before. The weight of your past still lingered, but you'd managed to shove it back into the shadows where it belonged. You weren’t going to let it consume you. Not today. Today, you were back in control.

The cuffs were still locked around your wrists, the familiar, metallic weight always present, always suppressing the power that constantly hummed beneath your skin. You never had a choice in the matter—one of the Avengers would have to unlock them for you when the time came. But it didn’t matter right now. You were used to them.

As you made your way to the briefing room, you casually let the cuffs clink together, the sound echoing down the hall. You knew it would annoy the team, which was exactly why you did it. Might as well make an entrance.

Sure enough, as you pushed the door open and stepped inside, the collective sound of groans and sighs greeted you. Tony was seated at the head of the table, eyes glued to his tablet, while Natasha, Clint, Bucky, Sam, and Steve were all scattered around the room, already deep into their discussion.

Without missing a beat, you made your presence known by dropping into an empty chair with a loud clink of your cuffs against the table. “Miss me?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you leaned back, folding your arms behind your head.

Tony didn’t even look up. “You ever enter a room without making a scene?”

“Why would I? Life’s more fun when you’re dramatic,” you quipped, tapping the cuffs together again, just to get on his nerves.

Clint shot you a glare, but it was more playful than serious. “Do you have to do that?”

You smirked. “Oh, was that bothering you? My bad.”

Steve finally stepped forward, arms crossed, looking as serious as ever. “Alright, let’s get started.”

Tony flicked a few holographic displays into the air with a casual wave of his hand. “So, as you know, our lovely friend here” —he gave a quick nod in your direction— “retrieved some decent intel from Hydra. Some of it’s encrypted, but we’ve already cracked most of it.”

You leaned back in your chair, eyes on the holograms. It was good to see the focus back on Hydra and not… well, not on you.

“Turns out,” Tony continued, “Hydra’s been working on something big. Bigger than we thought. They’ve got new tech—stuff we haven’t seen before. Weapons capable of destabilizing entire cities. It’s not just about targeting governments or military sites anymore. They want to cause mass chaos.”

Natasha leaned forward, studying the maps. “Their operations are spread thin, though. They’re pushing too hard, too fast. They can’t hold onto all this territory.”

“Which is where we come in,” Steve added, pointing to a section of the map. “We hit their key locations, cut off their supply lines, and cripple their command structure.”

“Sounds like a blast,” you said, leaning forward to get a better look at the holograms. “So, where do I get to have fun?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “Your definition of fun tends to involve blowing things up.”

“And your point?”

“Nothing,” Tony said with a smirk, swiping at the display to pull up more detailed files. “Just making sure we know what we’re dealing with.”

The conversation flowed smoothly, and for once, you didn’t feel the weight of everyone’s attention pressing down on you. No one treated you any differently—at least, not much. Steve was still all business, Natasha was her usual sharp, observant self, and Clint, well, Clint never gave you a break. That was normal.

But Bucky… there was something in the way he watched you, something that wasn’t hostility. He wasn’t glaring. He wasn’t throwing daggers at you from across the room. Instead, he seemed… curious. Not pitying, not judging. Just trying to figure something out.

You didn’t like it.

So, naturally, you shot him a grin. “What’s the matter, Barnes? Finally come around to my charm?”

Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a split second, he looked like he didn’t know how to respond. “No.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” you said, leaning back with a fake sigh. “I thought we were making progress.”

Clint snorted. “You’ve got a weird way of measuring progress.”

“Progress is subjective,” you said, and that earned a few smirks from the team. You could feel the tension easing, and that’s how you liked it. Distractions. Jokes. Keep it light, keep it moving.

Steve pointed at another section of the map. “There’s one more thing. Hydra’s central hub for communications. It’s buried deep underground in a classified location. We’ve intercepted some chatter, and if we can hit that base, we might be able to knock out their entire intel network.”

“That’s our next target,” Natasha added, eyes sharp. “But we need to move quickly. Hydra knows we’re onto them.”

“Great,” you said, rubbing your hands together. “Can’t wait.”

As the meeting went on, you noticed something: no one brought up your past. Not a single mention of the files or your connection to Hydra. You knew they had seen it by now—they had to have. And yet, nothing. Steve didn’t ask. Natasha didn’t probe. Bucky didn’t push.

Maybe they were just giving you space, or maybe they understood that you weren’t ready to talk about it. Whatever the reason, you were grateful. You weren’t ready to deal with questions, and you sure as hell weren’t about to show any cracks.

By the end of the meeting, the team had laid out the next steps, and Tony was already preparing to crack more of the encrypted files. You stood up from your chair, stretching as you glanced around the room.

“Well, looks like I’ve got some time to kill before we go blow up a Hydra base. Anyone up for poker?” you asked, a grin spreading across your face.

Sam shook his head, laughing. “I’m not losing any more money to you.”

“Your loss,” you said with a shrug, heading for the door. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.”

As you left the room, you felt that familiar sense of control settle back into place. You were back to being you. The sarcastic comments, the cocky attitude—it was all armor, but it was armor you knew how to wear well. You weren’t going to let anyone see the cracks. Not now, not ever.

And if they suspected anything? Well, you’d just have to keep them guessing.

The next mission kicked off early the following day, and unlike the usual plan of sending you in solo to do the sneaky, chaotic work, this time the entire team was with you. It was rare for everyone to hit the field at once, but Hydra’s operation was too big, too dangerous to risk any mistakes. You didn’t mind—having the Avengers at your back meant more targets, more action, and of course, more chances to annoy the hell out of them.

The mission had been going smoothly, at least for the first part. The team moved like a well-oiled machine, each of you knowing your role. You were no exception, even if your powers were still suppressed by the cuffs locked around your wrists. But you didn’t let that stop you. Instead, you leaned into your usual brand of annoying commentary, letting your voice fill the comms with quips and sarcastic remarks to keep everyone on their toes.

"Any chance we can make this a little harder?" you muttered, flipping a Hydra soldier over your shoulder with ease. "I’m starting to get bored."

“Don’t jinx it,” Natasha warned, knocking out a guard with a swift elbow to the temple. “We’ve still got the hard part ahead.”

You clinked your cuffs against each other, deliberately irritating Clint, who shot you an exasperated look as he fired off a few arrows. “Are you seriously doing that now?”

You smirked, shrugging. “You know me. Gotta find some way to entertain myself while you all hog the fun.”

The team had split into two groups once inside the facility. You, Clint, Sam, and Steve were tasked with disabling Hydra’s weapon supply, while Tony, Natasha, and Bucky went after the intel. The plan was straightforward, at least for now. But you knew better than anyone that Hydra had a way of turning straightforward into a nightmare at a moment’s notice.

And it did.

As you and the others pushed deeper into the base, Hydra soldiers came at you in waves. It was fine at first—manageable. But soon, the corridors were swarming with them. You fought them off with every ounce of skill you had, but without your powers, it was harder to keep up the momentum.

“Guys,” Sam called from above, using his wings to stay out of reach of the Hydra soldiers, “it’s getting real crowded down here.”

“I’ve noticed!” Steve grunted, knocking out another guard as they just kept coming.

“Could really use a power boost right about now,” you muttered, driving your knee into a soldier’s stomach and slamming him into the floor.

“I’ll handle that,” Tony’s voice cut through the comms. “FRIDAY, release the cuffs.”

With a satisfying click, the cuffs around your wrists fell away, and instantly, you felt the rush of power flood back into you. The shadows around you twitched and stirred like old friends returning from a long vacation.

“Ah, much better,” you said with a grin as you launched into action. The shadows coiled around you like extensions of your body, yanking Hydra soldiers into the darkness before they could react.

“Show-off,” Clint grumbled, firing an arrow that exploded in a burst of smoke.

“Jealous?” you quipped, sweeping another soldier off his feet with a tendril of shadow. “I can teach you how to be cool later.”

“You wish.”

Despite the banter, things were heating up. Hydra wasn’t pulling any punches, and it became clear that they weren’t just trying to slow you down—they were trying to wipe you out. The team fought hard, but there were too many of them.

“Behind you!” Steve shouted suddenly.

You turned just in time to see a Hydra soldier charging at Clint with a weapon raised, ready to strike. Without thinking, you acted.

Throwing yourself in front of Clint, you summoned the shadows to wrap around the soldier’s legs, yanking him to the ground. But just as you moved to strike, a searing pain shot through your leg—a Hydra soldier behind you had gotten off a lucky shot with an energy weapon, the blast catching you in the thigh.

The impact sent you stumbling, your vision going white with pain for a split second. But you held your ground, gritting your teeth as you knocked the soldier away and slumped against the wall, one hand clutching your leg where blood was already soaking through the fabric of your suit.

Clint, who had been busy dealing with another guard, turned just in time to see what had happened. His eyes widened. “What the hell, man?!”

You gave him a strained smile, trying to play it off. “Just… you know. Thought you could use a hand.”

He glanced at the wound in your leg, his expression shifting from confusion to something almost like concern. “You’re hit.”

“Wow, you’re observant,” you muttered, wincing as you tried to stand up straight. The pain was sharp, but manageable. “I’m fine. Really.”

Steve appeared at your side, his shield held up to deflect another round of shots from the Hydra soldiers swarming around you. “We need to fall back. You’re injured.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, trying to push the pain away as you summoned more shadows to keep the guards at bay. “Just a scratch.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “You call that a scratch?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Despite the sarcasm, you could feel the wound slowing you down. Every step was agony, but you weren’t about to let the others see how much it hurt. You’d already saved Clint’s life—no point making a big deal out of the fact that you’d taken a hit for it.

“Alright, let’s finish this,” you grunted, waving the others ahead. “I can still fight.”

“You’re not going anywhere with that leg,” Steve said, clearly not buying your bravado.

“I can keep up, Rogers. Trust me.” You tried to push forward, but the pain flared up again, and you stumbled slightly.

Clint caught your arm, steadying you with a scowl. “Yeah, you’re not fine.��

“I’m still standing, aren’t I?” you shot back, though you knew you weren’t exactly proving your point.

Before either of you could argue further, Tony’s voice cut through the comms again. “Weapons system is down. We need to meet up at the extraction point, now.”

“Copy that,” Steve said, his voice tight. “We’re moving out.”

The team regrouped quickly, and despite your injury, you insisted on pulling your weight as you limped along with the others. Clint kept throwing you glances, like he expected you to collapse at any second, but you ignored him, focusing on getting to the exit before Hydra could regroup.

By the time you reached the quinjet, you were drenched in sweat, the pain in your leg pulsing with every step. You staggered up the ramp, trying not to let it show, but as soon as you were inside, you collapsed onto one of the seats, your breath ragged.

Natasha, who had been helping to cover the retreat, took one look at you and raised an eyebrow. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you muttered, wincing as you pressed a hand to the wound in your leg.

Clint shook his head, sitting down across from you. “They took a hit saving my ass.”

Natasha’s eyes flicked between the two of you, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something—probably some comment about heroics and recklessness—but she held back. Instead, she nodded and turned to help with the takeoff.

Tony was the last to board, hovering just above the ramp. “Alright, everyone in one piece?”

“More or less,” you muttered under your breath.

Tony glanced at you, his face hidden behind the mask of his suit, but you could practically feel his eye-roll. “Nice work out there. Try not to die before we get back, okay?”

“No promises,” you replied, leaning back as the quinjet took off, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain settled in. You’d taken a hit, sure, but you weren’t about to let it slow you down.

And at least Clint was still breathing.

That was a win in your book.

By the time the quinjet neared the Avengers compound, the adrenaline that had been keeping you going finally ran out. The pain in your leg had become a constant throb, and your vision blurred around the edges. You tried to shake it off, to stay focused, but the exhaustion weighed down on you like a lead blanket. Every breath felt heavier, harder to draw in.

“Hey, you good over there?” Clint asked, glancing at you from his seat across the quinjet.

“Yeah, just… tired,” you muttered, your voice quieter than you intended. “No big deal.”

But it was a big deal. You could feel yourself slipping. The room swayed, and you blinked rapidly, trying to stay conscious, but the darkness creeping in from the edges of your vision was relentless. You slumped back in your seat, your head lolling to the side as your body gave in to the exhaustion and pain.

“Uh, guys?” Clint’s voice came again, a little more urgent this time. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

You barely registered his words before everything went black.

When you woke up, everything was a blur of voices and movement. You were vaguely aware of someone speaking—Tony, maybe?—and the familiar sound of the quinjet’s engines humming beneath you. But you couldn’t move, couldn’t open your eyes.

"FRIDAY, check her vitals," Tony’s voice cut through the haze.

"Vitals are dropping," FRIDAY replied. "She's lost a significant amount of blood. She needs immediate medical attention."

There was a pause, and then another voice—Steve, calm but tense. "We need to get her to the medbay. Now."

You felt strong arms lift you off the seat, cradling you carefully but firmly. It wasn’t rough, but the movement sent a sharp jolt of pain through your leg, dragging you further out of the fog.

"Barnes, you’ve got her?" Tony asked, and you felt a shift in the air around you.

"Yeah," Bucky replied, his voice steady. "I’ve got her."

Bucky’s metal arm was cool against your skin, and despite the haze, you could feel how careful he was with you. He wasn’t his usual stiff self, the one who acted like you were a problem waiting to happen. This was different.

As the quinjet landed, Bucky carried you down the ramp, the world a blur of lights and voices around you. You weren’t fully aware of it, but you felt the rush of movement as the others cleared a path toward the medbay. You heard Steve barking orders, and then Tony was there, walking alongside Bucky, his voice calm but serious.

"Get Helen Cho on standby," Tony said to FRIDAY. "We need her in the medbay ASAP."

Your vision swam again, and for a moment, you lost track of time. When you came to, you were lying on a medbay bed, the cold metal of the table beneath you strangely comforting. The hum of machines filled the room, and the faint scent of antiseptic told you that you were in safe hands.

When you finally woke up, it took a second to remember where you were. The medbay was quiet, save for the faint beeping of a monitor nearby. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the bright lights above you, and then turned your head to the side.

Dr. Helen Cho stood nearby, looking through a tablet, her brow furrowed in concentration. You recognized her immediately, even through the post-mission haze. She had a reputation for being the best in her field, but right now, she just looked incredibly focused—and, if you were being honest, annoyingly attractive.

You grinned, the familiar cocky smirk returning as you found your voice. “Well, this is a nice way to wake up. Did you personally request to treat me, or is that just a bonus?”

Helen glanced up from her tablet, her expression changing from professional focus to a sly smile. “You’re awake, then. Good. I thought you might’ve decided to sleep through the whole thing.”

“I figured I’d give you a chance to admire my rugged good looks while I was out,” you said, your tone teasing as you leaned back into the pillow. “But I’m happy to keep you company now that I’m awake.”

She chuckled, setting the tablet down on the counter beside you. “I’ll admit, you’re not the worst patient I’ve had. But maybe save the flirting until after I’m done making sure you’re not going to bleed out.”

You raised an eyebrow, ignoring the dull ache in your leg. “Who says I can’t multitask? I can flirt and recover at the same time. You know, efficient use of my talents.”

Helen shook her head, clearly amused. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“I try,” you said, flashing her a grin. “Gotta keep things interesting around here. Though I’d be happy to hear your assessment of my… condition. I’m sure you’ve seen worse, but I bet I look really good while injured.”

She leaned over you, mockingly serious for a second. “Oh, no doubt. The blood really brings out your eyes.”

You were about to fire back another comment when the door slid open, and Bucky walked in, clearly not in the mood for banter.

“Alright, lovebirds, that’s enough,” Bucky said, raising an eyebrow at the two of you. “This is a medbay, not a date.”

You glanced at him with a smirk. “Jealous, Barnes?”

Bucky crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Please. I’m just here to make sure you don’t annoy the person who’s keeping you alive.”

Helen chuckled softly and stood back up, her expression turning more professional. “She's fine now. The wound was clean, no permanent damage. Just need to stay off her feet for a while.”

Bucky shot you a knowing look. “Hear that? That means no running off. Doctor’s orders.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender, trying not to wince at the soreness in your leg. “Fine, fine. I’ll take it easy.”

“Good,” Bucky said, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Because I don’t feel like dragging your unconscious body back to the med bay again anytime soon.”

Helen smiled at you, a teasing glint still in her eyes as she picked up her tablet. “I’ll leave you in Bucky's capable hands, then.”

You nodded, closing your eyes as the exhaustion finally caught up to you. You’d done your part, and for now, that was enough.

Before sleep fully claimed you, you couldn’t resist one last comment.

“Hey, Barnes?”

He stopped, turning back. “Yeah?”

“Tell Helen she can come check on me anytime.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Get some sleep.”

And with that, you drifted off, a satisfied smirk still on your face.

[hyperref-lex-ia]

I don’t think yall get it about w2h2 and me. My fiancé and I have a wild story that starts with the og w2h. I met them at a convention dressed as Sock at 16 and we hung out along with some other new friends and then we didn’t talk again for 7 years. We continued going to the same conventions but missed each other at every one without second thought. We were just passing faces at cons that had once hung out but that’s not uncommon in the scene.

Then they moved 7 hours away from their old home, to 10 minutes away from my apartment. We got “introduced” by a friend and hit it off really well. I didn’t realize at the time but I hadn’t ever felt romantic attraction before. Falling in love with them helped me realize I am mostly aro, ironically.

The first night we hung out was a sleepover, we shared a bed. We haven’t not shared a bed since that first night aside from a handful of times. They came over to my place literally the next night. They stayed over every night and then suddenly they were moving in. We weren’t even dating but they were on my lease sharing my bed.

We start dating and then I find a picture of them at 16 years old dressed as Sock Sowachowski and I go “what the fuck”.

Now we’re engaged for over a year and I see w2h2 pop up on my suggested on our tv in our 3rd apartment together and I run to our bedroom and shake them awake (because this is important) and I tell them and they’re like “holy shit” and ask me to wait for them to watch. Tonight we sat down on our couch and watched the sequel to the thing that started it all and it felt surreal.

I never thought I would live like this and I never thought I deserved any love when I watched the first one the first time. Here I am surrounded by people who love me. I wish 2016 me could see me now.

[lostshots]

I watched the new venom movie

The ending made me sad until I realized i missed the 2nd credits scene

Then I was just annoyed I left during the song credits

At least Mrs Chen is still alive

There's one point where I was like venom why did you do that

I don't like the 2018 comic run so I wasn't happy the shitty symbiote 'god' was in it when I heard he was in it

At least he was shafted in this film, still don't like how he's in it since he was introduced the same year as the first movie

Thought this was the last movie tom hardy would be in, but apparently he's game to continue playing venom?

I thought it was decent, but it didn't feel like a sendoff to the end of the venom and Eddie story

Even though venom sacrificed himself again

Why are they suddenly out of synch when they figured it out in the first movie

I liked the body horror and gore

Thought agony was scorn for a bit

Rip lasher, riot 2, and mercury virus knockoff

I like how they made a highlight reel of their best moments together at the end

And Eddie went to see the statue of liberty

I thought the son of the hippie family would be the only survivor and Eddie would raise him

Really thought we would see sleeper

They made Flash Thompson canon

I'll probably make another post when I sleep on it

[stain-glass]

Okay I got bored and am now doing the math.

First thing firat, I did rewatch some of the episodes to be more accurate and make sure I didn't miss any tears.

So, Blitz is in all 18 episodes, so 100% of the show. Stolas is in 11 episodes (5 from season 1 and 6 from season 2 so far) so 61% of the times. This is not counting the shorts or music video, but we did, it would 23 with Blitz being physically (stary moon form does not count) in 21 (91.3%) and Stolas in 12 (52%) of them.

We want to make sure we are beimg consistent so we are only going to count visible tears that pop up in the eyes. If the tears stop and then pop up again, that is a different tear count. If the scene changes and we still see tears i will count it as a new tear count, cause new scene.

Now with the re-watched, I found some interesting things. Blitz doesn't have any visible tears in Apology Tour. His eyes get big and watery looking, but no tears were drawn on the corners. But Blitz also hides his face whenever we see the eyes get big and he bites his lip/grinds his teeth, the only visible part of his face. The final shot he don't see Blitz, just his silhouette hitting the steering wheel. This is something we also see in Queen Bee, Blitz hiding his face in the couch when talking to Loona about how he will die alone.

Now I always interpreted these scenes as moments that Blitz cried, but no tears in eyes so they don't count. This also means the wake up that Stolas has in The Circus is not counted either as even though it looked like he cried at some point we didn't see those tears spill.

The next thing to do is ask ourselves are we just counting if they cried in general or the total times they cried? Let's go with both to see what difference it makes.

Stolas and Blitz have both cried in 4 different episodes.

Statistically this means that out of the 18 episodes Blitz is in, he has cried in 22.2% of them while out if the 11 episodes he has been in Stolas has cried in 36.36%. If we are counting the shorts then it is 19% for Blitz and 41.7% for Stolas. If we are not counting flashbacks, then Stolas is at 27.27% which is much closer to Blitz's number.

Interestingly, Stolas did not cry at all in season one while Blitz did at the end in Ep.7 (the final clue in for us the audience that he has more going on and is sad. Still a great final shot that haunts me.)

This maybe why some people see Stolas as becoming weepy in season 2 but that is ignoring the other factor: Individual tears shed.

Stolas has 4 (5 if counting the music video) separate times he cries, just once each episode. Usually a single tear.

Blitz has 12.

He cries 2 times in Ozzie's, 4 in Oops (once is in the flashback right as he is throwing his letter to the ground and pushing the guy holding the cake, twice when talking to Fizz about the fire, and then once when Fizz hugs him). 2 in Full Moon, and 4 in Ghostfuckers (to his mom, to millie when saying he destorys everything he touches, once when looking at his memories and then he starts again when Rolando says he is going to back Millie hate him)

Now I know that I can't say Blitz cried 12 times in 18 episodes and therefore spends 66.6% of the episodes crying. (Though I do like the 666 of it all). But I think it is unfair to say that Stolas is a cry baby for sheding a single tear on several occasions, and one breakdown (maybe 2 but it didn't happen on screen) and even then pulled himself together quickly.

Tldr: ride to call Stolas a cry baby when Drunk is right there. Plus Moxxie has cried but I'm not doing the math on that one.. Unless I get bored and want to do a rewatch again.

I don't like Stolas because j feel they've been doing him dirty and making him into a cry baby, that bad?

I honestly don't think Stolas is a cry baby, because he only really cries when something with extreme intense emotions happens and if anything he's really good at keeping his tears in check when needed (it's the years of "cease this bitch crying" abuse). The only reason we've been seeing him cry as much as he does, is because of how much suffering he's been put through lately.

Not to mention, it really bothers me how especially with male characters the moment they dare to cry about anything (even if it's literally traumatic), they're immediately labelled as a cry baby and it just adds to the toxic "show no emotions" facade they're forced to put up in society.

Also, even if he was a cry baby, who cares? I mean, I obviously don't expect you to read every single one of my posts, but I find it kinda funny you sent this not long after I talked about how much I love Sakura (from CCS) being a cry baby. More characters deserve to be cry babies, as a treat!

[beaulesbian]

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023)

So we're just supposed to let people die because some algorithm says that that's supposed to happen? You realize how messed up that sounds, right?