#these ones? lasted way longer than i'd ever hoped for | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nirvanawrites111 · 2 years ago

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Here We Go Again (Bangchan x Reader x Hongjoong) Kinktober 2022

Here We Go Again

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader, Hongjoong x Reader

Word Count: 4361

Genre: Vampire AU Exs to Lovers

Warnings: Smut of course, Threesome, no mxm, reader oral receiving at the same time, double penetration, slight degrading towards reader, blood drinking, unprotected sex, fem pronouns, ass eating, drinking

A/n: It's been a while since I've uploaded so if you enjoy it please reblog and comment! Tysm!!! Enjoy!

Eyes tickle your skin under the crimson light that flows and spreads over your smooth melanin. Liquor burns your tongue, and you attempt to wash away the memories of them.

Tonight, you are in your own little world, and the music thumps loud throughout the bar. You don't give a fuck who stares or is watching you. This is your celebratory dance. You have released yourself from being one of many. No matter how you try to dress up your situation with them, it just isn't worth it for you.

Your hips sway to the music, your body grooves to beat, and you embrace the joy running through your body. You are drinking to forget about them, and dancing to remember what it feels like to be liberated. You are now on your own and no longer worried about them.

Eyes on your body remind you that you are still the center of attention. But, you don't care. You block all of that out of your mind and enjoy the vibe.

"Sexy little thing you are," A voice tickles against your ear. The coolness of their breath lets you know what they are. Your antennas go up, and you turn around to see who this man is.

"Oh, baby. I know," you exclaim confidently, making your aura glow brighter.

His dark brown eyes twinkle, and that smirk tells you he loves a confident woman. The eye contact is intense, and you adore that.

"Are you spoken for? I don't want to intrude," The man speaks to you in a calming and smooth tone. His black hair is slicked back, and his dark brown shirt is slightly open.

You focus intently on the beautiful tall man before you. His skin is porcelain from being something of the underworld. You touch his face, and it's ice-cold, just as you prefer.

The handsome stranger towers over you higher than either of them ever did. Your hands drape around his neck, and you admire him for a moment. His icy cold grey eyes could easily mesmerize you. His cool hands fall to your hips, and you both sway to the familiar rhythm of the beat, but your ears can't quite catch the lyrics.

"No, I'm not spoken for, handsome," you giggle with utter confidence and reassurance that he wants you. Or at least he wants to taste you. You hope in more ways than one.

"Mmm.. that's what I like to hear, baby. I'm Yunho. What's your name, darling?"

You didn't quite catch it before, but he has a slight accent, possibly from the south. But it doesn't sound too drawn out like you are used to.

"Y/n, are you new around here?"

"Not to the area, but I thought I'd come here for something different," Yunho replies. He pulls your body closer to his.

"Well, I guess you're in the right place, then," you flirt back with him and bat your eyes. There's something about him that's intriguing.

"Yes. Now, that I met you," Yunho smirks at you. You wonder how this could be the first time you've ever met him. His face wasn't even familiar. Where has he been hiding at?

"So, I know you want to proposition me. But, I actually have one for you," you request.

Your heart beats an extra beat faster. You've never asked anyone before, but tonight you feel a bit adventurous.

"And what's that, Beautiful."

You nearly hesitate, but you remember closed mouths don't get fed. So, you swallow hard and go ahead with your request.

"I've never done this. Tonight, is special for me, and to celebrate, I want to taste your blood."

Yunho leans close to your ear, his breath is close to your neck, and he holds the middle of your back. You nearly melt in his embrace because you can't remember the last time you've been held.

You wouldn't readily admit it, but you are touch starved. His fingertips are on you, and his grip around your waist is perfect.

"Do you know what comes along with having a vampire's blood?"

"I do," you reply and nod against him.

"This isn't something to experiment with. After one drop of blood, you will want something more."

Confusion floods your mind, and you aren't sure where he's going with this. You just want to relax and enjoy the rest of the night. What could his blood possibly do to you?

"What am I going to want?"

"This dick."

Bangchan throws back yet another bloodshot when he spots you on the dance floor, getting cozy with Yunho. Anger courses through his veins, and he nearly shatters the shot glass in his right hand.

He takes a deep breath and places it on the table before him. He leans back, and a woman whispers everything she wants to do to him. But, he can't even focus on her desire. All he sees is Yunho touching and embracing you in front of him.

He shouldn't care about what you do. It shouldn't affect him because he decided he didn't want anything serious. He's never had anything remotely real until he met you.

Bangchan snaps out of his thoughts, and he taps on the woman's legs. "Sorry, baby. I need to speak with Hongjoong for a moment. Give us a minute," Bangchan informs her.

"Aww, daddy. I won't listen," she covers her ears and pouts at him. He's been messing with her for two weeks, and already she's getting on his nerves. He grabs her hands and holds them.

Bangchan stares into her eyes and reaches into his pocket. He places a hundred dollars into her hand and says. "Lia, get a few drinks and give us some space."

Bangchan has her in a trance, and she agrees to his request. He doesn't like to use his charming magic, but sometimes it's helpful when he doesn't have the energy to argue.

"Yes, I will give you two some space. Thank you for the money," she kisses him on the lips and leaves the table.

Bangchan sighs in relief. "I don't think it's going to work with Lia. Are you feeling her?" Bangchan asks.

"Not really," Hongjoongs responds.

Bangchan points into the crowd, and Hongjoong sees what has had Bangchan's attention.

"You see, Y/n."

"The fuck is she doing here?" Hongjoong's jaw drops at you having a good time with someone that isn't him or Bangchan.

"And with him," Bangchan adds.

Hongjoong tilts his head and observes you with your arms around Yunho. The cold blood in his body heats up, and he balls his fists.

"Let's kill him," Hongjoong offers.

The thought skips through Bangchan's mind. It would be satisfying, but right now, they don't need those kinds of problems.

"Sounds good, but nah. He isn't worth it. It's like he stole her from us."

"I thought she wasn't interested in our kind anymore."

"It's been three months. I guess she got tired."

"But, Yunho of all people," Hongjoong groans and gags at the thought of you fucking someone else. He rolls his eyes at your possibility of leaving the club with him.

"I can smell her pheromones. Damn, she wants him," Bangchan speaks a sick reality. He wonders if you have experienced any vampires since things ended.

Hongjoong jumps up, and Bangchan's attention darts to him.

"Wait, she wants to drink his blood. You hear that?" Hongjoong looks down at his best friend.

You look beyond Yunho's tall, perfect body and see Bangchan and Hongjoong staring at you from afar. Your heart drops for a moment.

What are they even doing here on a Tuesday? They only frequent this bar on the weekend. You turn your back to them and close your eyes.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?" Bangchan's voice causes you to open your eyes again. By the scowl on his face, he isn't happy that you are entertaining another vampire.

"Having fun. Something neither of you knows about," you spit and narrow your eyes at both men staring down at you.

"Drinking vamp blood is fun?" Hongjoong grins with a smug look on his face, and he clenches his jaw.

Of course, he can hear even the quietest noises. You groan, and before you apologize to Yunho, he's already vanished into thin air.

You cover your face with your hands in disappointment. Why do they have to ruin your fun tonight? You don't belong to them anymore, and you are free to do whatever you want.

"Ugh. I just wanted to have some fun."

You stomp in frustration and uncover your face. Why must they ruin your night? It's your first night out in three months, and of course, they are raining o your parade.

"Baby, that's not how you have fun," Hongjoong gently caresses your face and darts your eyes away at the floor because the last thing you need is him hypnotizing you.

"Oh, don't worry. I don't need to hypnotize you," Hongjoong lifts your chin to stare back at him.

You pull away from him and slap his hand in the process. "Don't touch me."

"Aww, you're still mad at us?" Bangchan comes to your side and places his hand on your upper back.

"No, but I refuse to be just a play toy to both of you. Y'all had too many hoes to count," you explain, and for a moment, you relive the fact that you fell for two of the biggest whores in your small town.

"But, you were our favorite," Bangchan pulls you close to him, and you swoon for a bit.

You shake your head, and your body clenches when you hear those words. Not once did those words have a positive effect on you.

"Favorite isn't anything to be proud of," you reply.

"Let's take you home, sweetness," Bangchan offers.

"Why are y'all tired of fucking that little rag doll?" You ask and point to their VIP table. The woman sips her drinks, but she doesn't look over at you. Your mind starts to wonder why.

Your jaw drops, and you realize something. You shake your head at them.

"You hypnotized her!" You shout and cover your mouth in disbelief.

"I mean, she wouldn't understand why we had to intervene," Bangchan explains, but you don't care.

"I mean, you just can't be drinking everyone's blood. Ya know. You didn't even know the guy, did you?" Hongjoong asks.

"I didn't."

"Look, I'll cook you your favorite sandwich so you can sober up, and Hongjoong will rub your feet," Bangchan offers.

You know you have to work tomorrow, and the last thing you need is a hangover.

You suck your teeth, and you roll your eyes. Maybe, it was a good thing you didn't drink Yunho's blood. The last thing you need is another attachment to a vampire.

"Fine."

***

You sit back on your couch, just like old times. Hongjoong removes your high heel, ironically the last pair of YSL heels he bought you.

He starts to massage your feet, and his attention is on you. But, you stroll through your phone. The feeling is more familiar than you expected it to be. You glance up at Bangchan preparing your favorite fried egg sandwich with kimchi.

Did you make a mistake by letting them come over? You didn't even put up a fight or try to argue with them. Neither one of them could have hypnotized you because that's something they promised they'd never do to you and because of your special contacts.

"Yunho ran out of there so fast," you giggle. He wouldn't be the one if he jetted after seeing Bangchan and Hongjoong.

"I know. He could never make you feel this good. I can guarantee that you," Hongjoong replies, and he gently places a kiss on your foot. You pull your foot out of his grasp.

"That's enough. Thank you," you tell him.

You know yourself a little too well, and once he gets to kiss your feet, you are done. He will have you bent over your couch, giving it to you from the back and your mouth full of Bangchan. You don't need that tonight.

"Are you afraid you will slip and fall on my dick?" Hongjoong moves next to you, and his hand is on your thigh.

You place his hand on it to stop any further movement. You glance down at your hand over him, and you look up into his eyes.

"No, I'm not. I'm not even horny," you whisper. Hongjoong's eyes raise. He knows those words are lies.

"So, why can I smell your arousal?" Hongjoong questions.

You look over at Bangchan to see if he can help you out by answering the question, but all he does is chuckle. He walks over to you and hands you your plate.

"I.. you know my feet being rubbed, and you know what that always leads to. So, don't act innocent," you state the obvious.

"So, why did you want to try vamp blood?" Bangchan asks.

"Curious. Neither of you would let me have it. Yunho gave me attention, and I asked him," you admit. You bite into your sandwich, and you instantly feel yourself sobering up.

You don't know the exact science behind what he does to your sandwich, but every time you come home from the club, it sobers you up quickly. Just as if you didn't have any drinks.

"We didn't let you have it because it's dangerous," Hongjoong answers you.

"It can be even more dangerous when you don't know the person," Bangchan says.

You didn't thoroughly think it through when you met Yunho, and your mind starts to turn. Did he hypnotize you? Maybe those contacts aren't working like you, though.

"I know. It was an impulse thought," you reply.

"It's okay. But, please don't do that again," Hongjoong tells you.

In some small way, you feel they still have feelings for you. Your undefined connection was them wasn't all bad. You had a lot of fun times. A lot of crazy memories of being with them.

But, you couldn't shake that when they weren't with you, they were somewhere else dicking down someone else. Drinking someone else's blood and feeling another woman come on their dicks. You couldn't shake it, no matter how much you tried.

"I won't. I don't think I'll ever go back there," you admit.

"Why not?" Bangchan asks.

"I don't want to run into Yunho," you reply.

"We can make him go away," Hongjoong's dark, sinister giggle causes you to glare at him. You know that he's serious, but you don't need that. Plus, Yunho didn't do anything.

"I would rather y'all not. He was a gentleman," you reply.

You take more bites of your sandwich. You've missed these random moments with them. Not with a clear and sober mind, you realize you've missed them.

"Can I taste you?" Hongjoong asks.

"Sure."

You place your plate down, and you straddle his lap. Not overthinking it. You pull down the strap to your dress and push your hair to the other side.

Hongjoong holds onto you and licks over fangs then they appear before you. There has always been something sexy about him when he's about to feed. His eyes glow dark pools of crimson.

Hongjoong clings to your neck and pierces your skin. You feel a slight tingle, but he rubs circles in the middle of your back to ease your pain. He's always been so gentle with you when he feeds.

Hongjoong savors your taste, and he's reminded of why Bangchan nicknamed you sweetness. Everything about you is so damn sweet, even your blood.

It can be addictive. Hongjoong pulls away from you and licks every drop of your blood from around his lips.

There's an intimacy that occurs when you let a vampire feed on you. You move off of him, and you stare deeply at him. Before you realize it, Bangchan is on his knees before you.

"May I?" Bangchan request. He's never liked to feed in the same spot as Hongjoong, which you could never understand. You push up your dress and spread your legs for him. He's always liked to bite you on your inner thigh.

You would be lying to yourself if you didn't hope this would lead to something more. The ball is in your court, and if you want them, you could have them both. You can get the fix you keep denying without any strings attached.

"Yes," you nod.

Bangchan's lips brush against your inner thigh, and you almost gasp at him being so close to your center. Three months without dick has been hard for you. Your poor vibrator is probably sick of you at this point.

Your body freezes because you feel yourself drip onto your panties. You would love to feel his tongue deep inside of you again.

"You okay?" Bangchan asks. He looks up at you, and the darkness in his eyes is telling. He might not be able to read minds, but he knows you are wet.

"Yeah.. you can feed."

"Okay, I just want to make sure."

Bangchan licks over the area, and he bites your inner thigh. He moves closer and holds your thighs over his shoulder, sending you over the edge.

You turn over to Hongjoong and lean into him. You press your lips against his. You weren't sure if he would accept your forward move.

Hongjoong deepens the kiss and holds your face. Your eyes shut, and you embrace his kiss against yours. If you were completely honest, them coming over and scaring Yunho away did something to you. But, you wouldn't verbally tell them.

You wanted them to feel territorial about you even if you weren't seeing them anymore. But, right now, there's something different in the air, and you want them.

Bangchan pulls away and rubs the bite marks on your thigh to make them disappear as if it never happened. He watches you embrace Hongjoong.

You pull away from Hongjoong, and Bangchan stands up to lean over you against your couch. His hands grip the back of the couch, and he kisses you. A warmth runs through your entire body and is familiar to you. Your body wants who it wants right now, and you have no problem fulfilling that need with them tonight.

"I want you," Bangchan pulls back and breathes out. His breath is ragged.

"Can we have you again?" Hongjoong asks. He holds your hand, and your mind was already made up before you walked into your apartment.

You stand and speak. "Yes. Just for tonight, I belong to both of you."

You head to your bedroom, remove your dress, and toss it into your laundry basket. You sit on the end of your bed in your strapless black bra and panties.

Both men sit on the floor on their knees, waiting for the green light.

"Tell us.. what you want," Bangchan speaks first. You spread your legs with ease.

"Taste me first," you instruct. Your request is light, and seductive.

Hongjoong pounces on you first and kisses you again. His body spreads across yours and immediately goes for your panties. He pulls them down and tosses them over your shoulder. You watch Bangchan smell them because he's obsessed with your scent.

Hongjoong spreads your legs and flicks his tongue against your clit, causing you to moan. Your hands grip your comforter.

"She's getting so wet, for us. Nothing has changed," Hongjoong teases.

Bangchan sits on the left side of you and removes your bra. It falls behind you on the bed, and he grabs it. He tosses it onto the chair.

He massages your breast and moves closer so he can flick his tongue against your nibble. The double sensation makes your core throb. They've always worked perfectly tag teaming you to make your body feel good.

"Feel good, doesn't it? Sweetness?" Channie asks.

"Mmm.. it does. I've missed it."

"We're going to make you nice and juicy, baby," Channie leans closer to you and kisses you. This time his tongue is deep inside your mouth. It's hot as hell.

Hongjoong probes his tongue inside of you, making your body jolt. Your hips rise off the couch and he holds your body to support you. His face is starting to glisten with your juices which is turning you on even further.

Bangchan suckles on your nipple and pulls it out of his mouth. He holds your breasts together and licks across both of your nipples. His movements are so precise and are making you extra wet.

"Mmm.. you're about to cum already?" Hongjoong questions and pulls his tongue out of you. Bangchan stops, and you open your eyes.

You settle your orbs onto Hongjoong, and the lust is written perfectly on his face. His mouth is slightly open, and his blonde hair is pushed out of his face.

"Why'd y'all stop?" you question.

You want to achieve your first orgasm of the night because you know when you are dealing with them, there will be plenty more.

"You think we're going to make it that easy for you?" Bangchan whispers against your ear, and he moves behind you. He plants soft kisses on the right side of your neck. Each kiss causes your body to rise and fall each time.

"I mean.. why not?"

Hongjoong's kisses are left along your right leg and then follow to the opposite leg. Right now, you are lost in the moment of their kisses all over your body.

"How bad do you want to cum?" Bangchan inquires, and the seduction in his tone makes you feel the same way you did when you were fucking them on the regular.

"Real bad."

Here you are with your legs spread wide for Hongjoong and Bangchan. Your eyes widen when you notice Bangchan move to the right side of Hongjoong. Your body cries out, and you moan when you experience both tongues licking away at your essence. You can't remember the last time you felt this. You hold onto your comforter even tighter because you aren't going to last much last.

"Fuck.." you bit your lip as they lap away at your essence, and you squeeze your breast. Bangchan moves his tongue higher and hits your clit at the right angle.

Hongjoong drags his tongue down to your ass and drills it inside of it. The combination of them working together is sending you over the edge. Your body is ready to release.

"Mmm.. just like that. Cum for us," Hongjoong mumbles against your ass. He holds onto your hips, and you inch closer to your first orgasm.

Bangchan sucks on your clit a little more complicated, and at that moment, you lose it. Your body trembles, and you explode with Hongjoong at your entrance to capture your essence.

Bangchan licks up all that he doesn't catch and sticks his tongue inside of you to savor the taste of you for old times sake.

"Still sweet as ever," Bangchan compliments you. You, on the other hand, are trying to catch your breath.

Hongjoong removes his clothes and lies in the middle of your bed. His hand strokes his dick, and you watch it stand at attention for you.

Bangchan slips out of his clothing and goes over to your nightstand, and rummages through your drawer. He dangles a bottle of lube in front of you. You watch Bangchan let the lube freefall onto his dick.

"Ride me, baby," Hongjoong coos. You straddle his lap and ease yourself down onto his hard dick. Your pussy clenches around him. It feels good to have him inside of you again.

Bangchan kisses you on your shoulder blade and dusts a trail across your back. He moves behind you and starts fingering your ass to get it ready to have him deep inside you. He smacks your ass while you ride Hongjoong.

"She's dripping all over my cock. Damn, we can't let her slip away again," Hongjoong mentions. You love the praise and the way he can make you feel like you are the best thing in the whole world.

"I know, especially since her ass is still so tight. I should stretch her out a bit, huh?" Bangchan replies to Hongjoong.

You work yourself a bit faster on Hongjoong's dick. You miss being with them at the same time. You reach down to stroke your pearl, but Hongjoong beats you to it.

"C'mon, baby. You know we take care of you. Don't worry, okay," Hongjoong adds, and his finger touch you just the way you like.

Bangchan holds your waist and whispers against your skin. "You ready, sweetness?"

"Mmm.. yes," you reply.

Bangchan inches in slow until he fits into you. He arches your back so that you can take them both at the same time.

Just like that, the three of you are working together. The sensation is a feeling you've craved for months. You love being stretched out by both men.

"You're taking us both so good, baby," Hongjoong rubs your face. "You're the perfect slut for us. Right baby?" Hongjoong asks.

"Yes, I'm a slut for only you and Bangchan," you recite. Your juices drip all over his dick while he's your riding him.

"You hear her, Chan? She's still our slut," Hongjoong gleams when he hears you say that.

"We came here tonight just to please you," Bangchan groans.

"Mmmm... I've missed it so bad. I miss belonging to y'all," you moan. You are lost in the moment.

"Let's cum inside you and fill you up," Hongjoong says.

You try to formulate words, but the pleasure is too good. Your body is in another world. The three of you climax together and ride out the amazing high that you've missed so much.

You lie in the middle of them, and your heart is beating faster than ever. You can't believe you fucked them again.

"We want you to come home with us. Be ours, but this time it's no other distractions," Hongjoong speaks. You sit up against the pillow and study both men's faces.

"Of course, I'd be glad to," you reply.

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unclewaynemunson · 2 years ago

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(The final part to what I’m now calling the Roses and Sunshine AU) | AO3 link

The next Wednesday, when it would be just the two of them again, Eddie knew what he was going to do. He was finally certain about what he wanted, but that didn't make it any less nerve-wracking, and he spent the whole day biting his nails and being constantly distracted as he went through his lessons with Will, Jane and a couple of other kids.

When his last student of the evening finally came in, Eddie was met with a smile as bright as the sun.

'Rose is completely obsessed with your present,' Steve told him. 'It's driving me crazy, that thing is the worst. One more time of hearing that tinned version of Old Macdonald again and I might throw it through the window.'

Eddie snickered. 'I'm sorry, I'll take full responsibility for it,' he said, raising his arms in a surrendering gesture.

He had planned on waiting until the end of the lesson before saying what he wanted to say, but he had never been a patient person – and how could he wait any longer when Steve was looking so beautifully happy and the opportunity was right there?

'Can I perhaps make it up to you by taking you out sometime?' he asked, trying to sound confident, but not entirely sure about how he delivered on that one. His heart was beating so loudly that he thought Steve could probably hear it from where he was sitting.

'Taking me out?' Steve repeated. It sounded incredulous, like he was afraid that he had misheard Eddie.

'Yeah,' Eddie said, softly.

He had been quite convinced that Steve was into him, too, but upon seeing the guarded look that appeared in his eyes, he suddenly wondered if he had made a huge mistake.

'Like a date?'

He nodded, feeling too nauseous to even say anything anymore.

'Um...' Steve rubbed a hand over his face. Seconds of silence stretched out between them and Eddie desperately wished that Steve would just put him out of his misery right away, as he waited and waited and waited for the guy to finally give him his answer.

'Look, Eddie...'

Eddie recognized that tone – he was about to be rejected. Fuck.

'I really like you. Honestly. But... I don't really... I don't really date around anymore,' he stammered. 'Not since Rose, I mean.'

Eddie looked at Steve, taking his own seconds before responding to that, his heart still thumping annoyingly loud in his chest. I don't really date around anymore. There was something about the way that was phrased, something that gave Eddie just enough hope to not give up entirely just yet.

So he nodded. 'Yeah, I get that,' he said. 'But I didn't really mean it in the “let's date around for a little bit” kinda way.' A nervous chuckle escaped from his throat. 'I'm kinda far gone for you already, Steve. So...' He shrugged sheepishly. It was a goddamn scary thing to admit, to be so straightforward about what he was feeling, when he had no idea if Steve was feeling the same way about him.

Steve cleared his throat, combed a hand through his hair. 'Eddie...' It was almost a sigh, the way he said his name. 'I don't think you really understand what I'm saying here. Rose and me – we're a package deal, basically. And I know that that's a lot. It's not something I'd ever wanna ask of someone.' He averted his gaze to the wall behind Eddie's head. 'Not even of someone I'm, like, totally in love with,' he mumbled under his breath, almost as if he didn't want Eddie to hear it.

But Eddie did hear it. And finally, he understood. He had been right, Steve was into him – but he assumed that his sister would be a burden to Eddie.

'Stevie,' Eddie said, softly. He reached out his hand; Steve didn't pull back as he intertwined their fingers with each other.

'I think Rose is amazing. And I'd love to get to know her better. You don't have to worry about that. If I'm gonna be a part of your life, I know I'm gonna be a part of hers, too. And I'd be fine with that. More than fine, actually, to be honest.'

Steve's eyes widened. 'Are you sure?' he asked in a slightly creaky voice.

Eddie nodded. 'Yeah. Hundred percent.' He watched Steve's shoulders relax and heard him release his breath.

'Actually, I desperately wanted to become her uncle-slash-brother-slash-stepdad ever since I saw her. I'm not actually interested in dating you at all, it's just my strategy to get closer to Rose.'

Steve laughed; it was a loud laugh emerging from the depth of his tummy, making his whole body shake and his face light up in a completely enchanting way.

'Alright, I can live with that,' he breathed out. 'It's a date, then.'

'It's a date,' Eddie agreed, letting out a shaky laugh while he squeezed Steve's hand. He had to say it out loud, to make sure that it was real, that he was planning a date with the single most wonderful person he'd ever met. 'Fuck yeah.'

Steve stretched out his hand – the one that Eddie wasn't holding – to carefully brush through Eddie's curls. 'You do know that you're not allowed to say “fuck” when Rose is around, do ya?' he said with a wide smile on his face.

'Can't make any promises 'bout that,' Eddie teased back.

'Can I...' He let his gaze wander downwards to Steve's lips. 'Can I do something else I'm not allowed to do when Rose is around either, now? Or is that only allowed after the first date?'

Steve parted his lips slightly, shuffling a few inches closer to Eddie.

'You can definitely do that now,' he whispered against Eddie's skin, letting Eddie meet him in the middle.

Taglist: @kardinalkalamity @imzadidragonfly @simpforsauron @undreamingscatworld @nailbatbabygirl @solosnail @theysherobinbuckley @sharpbutsoft @manda-panda-monium @piningapple @whimsicalwitchm @withacapitalp @kerlypride @bejeweledbaby @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @cheeseaddict-12 @henderdads @hammity-hammer @nelotegreitic @silentiumdelirium @mad-h-w @evix-syne666 @legitcookie @csinnamon-fox @deleataecount @sadcanadianwinter @shadowofaliar @and-say @connected-dots @thosemessyvibes @panicatthediaz @basilthefourth @swimmingbirdrunningrock @inikokoru @adaed5 @ali-just-ali @spectrum-spectre @paperbackribs @steddiewritingnerd @homosexual-having-tea @infinitetrashbag @zerokrox-blog @cr0w-culture @thing-a-ling @skybridgerton @by1er-endgame @martzja @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @fandomcartographer @maya-custodios-dionach (Jesus H Christ I can’t believe there’s so many of you, honestly can’t express how much that means to me. Every mention I received over the past few days about all your lovely replies and tags has made me so, so happy!)

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #fruity ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic

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jamiedc-they-them · 2 years ago

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Being Enola Holmes' sibling - Part II

In honour of Enola Holmes 2 releasing, and being amazing! I thought I'd do a part II. Spoilers, ahead!

This is (much longer - in fact, the most extended piece I have ever written for these fics! - than the first one, which was more a set of a sequel to part I of my first Enola Holmes fic, which you can find in my master list. Y/N is nb, just for a note. Enjoy!!!

PART 1

Almost right after your big break with the Tewksbury case, you followed Enola, looking at her smile as she handed the name of the new agency she was making in the first name of you both. Part of you was proud yourself. Don’t get it wrong, this was a big thing. It meant a lot. A first step into a truly new world; and the excitement your sister had did rub off on you too.

But, there was a part of you that felt…alone? Ironic, given Enola’s name. But, that was the only word you could put to it.

You didn’t really have much time to relax after the case, given that the money you got wasn’t infinite, it would run out a some point, and you’d need that money for both where you lived and to run the agency.

So, it opened. The nerves inside you made you tell Enola you’d go out for a walk. She nodded, smiling a small one in understanding, just hoping you’d stay safe.

You knew you would be.

The place you went to had a nice view. Luckily, the bench you went to was unoccupied, it helped your nerves a bit.

You sat down, taking a long breath and closing your eyes, letting the ambience of the place take you. The ideas it sprung in your head. The stories you could tell, if only you had the time to –

A voice coughing to gain your attention did its job. You opened your eyes, looking up at the person who did it with wide eyes for a moment, but they then softened.

Tewksbury, the friend that you had saved, was the one to get your attention.

“How have you been?” he asked.

He gestured to the bench, and you shuffled a bit to let him sit. When he was comfy, you nodded with a smile and pointed a finger back at him.

“I am well, too. Thank you,” he said, “how has Enola been?”

You were no Enola, you were no detective. Or, at least, not at her level. But, emotions you were always good at. You saw a sparkle in your friend’s eye when he asked about your sister.

“She’s well,” you signed. Tewksbury watched your hands carefully, seemed he was getting lessons. Your heart swelled a bit at his attempt to follow with your main way of communication. At least one that might be for only a bit longer.

Although, you did see him struggle a bit. So, you tried a different tactic.

“Opened a Detective agency,” you said aloud.

His eyes widened a bit at hearing your voice for the first time. Your voice was not as posh as Enola’s was. He nodded, that sparkle still there.

“That’s good. Is business well?”

You shrugged, “not sure,” he read from your notepad after you finished writing on it, “I left before I met anyone…just nervous.”

He gave you back the notepad, “that’s understandable,” he sympathised, “we all have different parts to us. Different paths.”

You nodded, looking back out at the water as you sighed, “I don’t want to leave Enola behind,” you admitted, words soft.

Tewksbury himself looked back to the water as he thought about his response, “you wouldn’t be,” he said, “she’d understand. I know she would,” he gave you a smile, before getting up from his seat, “I must be off, I’m afraid.”

You got up yourself, holding out your hand, “until next time, Lord Tewksbury.”

He shook your hand, “Until next time, Y/N Holmes.”

You both departed.

When you arrived in, Enola was gone. Gone where, you did not know. But, one thing you did notice, was that everything she placed were in the same place as where she left it last.

The door then opened, and she appeared. She gave you a smile, “sorry, had to pop out,” she said, putting her jacket on the hook and giving you a hug, “did your walk help?”

You tapped her twice on the back: a question.

“With your stories,” she clarified. You pulled out of the hug, but she still held your arms, “I do know you a little,” she says, in a joking tone.

You smiled at it. You nodded, “yes.”

She nodded, “good,” she said. Her smile dimmed a bit looking at the seeming lack of progress she had herself.

“Well,” she said trying to be optimistic, “there’s always tomorrow, right?”

“There is,” you say, trying to keep that optimism going.

You both then retired to your separate bedrooms for the night.

That tomorrow you and Enola had tried to envision – even if you were sure it was askew slightly to each other’s version of it – did not come to pass. Well, people came in, for sure. But, they just wanted Sherlock. You were either too young, or they called her gender into question. They said you didn’t look the smart type, Enola’s glare made that person leave quick.

You had some stories that sold over the months. That kept you going for a bit. But, soon the reality caught up with you; the money ran out, your ideas ran dry, and Enola had no case.

Enola called it a failure, you called it an “attempt well done,” which did make her smile appreciatively.

“I’ve always appreciated your positivity, Y/N,” she said, packing her own case for the journey, “thank you for sticking with me. I know it didn’t exactly live up to what we wanted it to.”

You clipped your case shut, and turned to her, “I’m always going to be by your side, Enola. No matter what.”

“As am I,” she assured.

At least you had each other.

As she tried to find something on the floor, the door opened. She climbed up, you turned and gave a tight lipped smile to your new acquaintance. A young girl.

Enola leant one way, the girl went the other. Same on the second attempt. You shut the lid gently, Enola going red in embarrassment of not trying that first. The girl gave you a thankful look.

“Enola and Y/N Holmes?” the girl asked. Her accent was a thick London one.

“Yes?” Enola said, glee in her eyes at this maybe being something. Something to keep you both in London. Although the difference of Enola’s posh one vs the girl’s one was stark. Still, the hope in the girl’s voice and soft hope in Enola’s seemed to find some common ground.

“I’ve come to the right place, then. Is it true you find lost people?” the girl asked, handing your sister a piece of paper. You went around the desk, Enola holding it so you both could see it. It was a ripped piece of newspaper. One with the advertisement in. It was ripped poorly. There seemed to be a story there.

Enola looked to you, seeing your eyebrows furrow as you looked at the newspaper. She knew that look; you were trying to put together that story.

“Where did you get this?” Enola asked, letting you do your own investigation, “it’s months old.”

“I found it on the street.”

You looked back to the girl, Enola sharing your gentle eyes as she asked the question softly, “who have you lost?”

There was a small pause before the girl answered. As if bracing herself for it, “my sister,” she said.

Enola stilled, looking off to…you weren’t quite sure what. She had moments like this, where she’d space out. Sometimes she’d talk out loud. It was to no one; and to be honest, it unnerved you a bit.

She then looked back to you. You could see the thoughts running through her head, just as she could yours.

This girl had lost her sister. Just like either of you could’ve lost the other at any point.

It pained you both. Just the mere thought. This poor girl had to live it.

You followed the girl as she led you back to hers. The journey took you to the docks, the low end area. Cobble road streets that had seen better days. Boards giving you access to other areas.

“Watch the step,” the girl warned as you all hopped board after board to pass the water. Enola nearly fell, but your hand was there, grabbing her arm as you grabbed a post, helping steady herself.

You weren’t as lucky when you slipped and fell in.

“Y/N!” Enola called as you rose up, climbing onto shore, “are you alright?”

“Cold,” was your blunt and short answer. She nodded.

“We’ll be in soon. Don’t worry,” the girl assured you, continuing to lead you when you nodded for the go ahead, “she disappeared a week ago,” she informed, Enola and you clocking a poster that read ‘TYPHUS KILLS.’

“Everyone says she’s run away, but Sarah wouldn’t do that, not to me,” she was sure. As you continued, Enola holding the girl’s hand, you saw an older woman, laying on the floor coughing. You wanted to help, but Enola grabbed your hand, gently squeezing it; ‘not now’ it said.

“She’s my only family now,” the girl finished. Enola felt your hand tighten on hers. Those words struck a cord.

She led you into a house. It looked cramped. Run down. Some of the wallpaper was missing. Enola paused, looking at a bed at the bottom of the stairs. Words being exchanged upstairs drew your gaze, but you couldn’t see who it was.

“The other girls are still at work,” the younger girl said as you entered a larger room. Candle chandelier showing the room with a table, a table, some chairs, a bookshelf, and a single bed.

“Tea?” she offered.

“Thank you,” Enola said, knowing you’d want one as well. The girl pouring your drinks. You start to look around the room, guessing it would be the place you needed to be in.

Enola, however, asked, “might we see her bedroom?”

“Ours, you mean?” Enola looked confused. You continued looking around, already having made the guess yourself. You didn’t hold it against your sister; you were both raised differently and never saw people in the poorer states of life.

“You’re standing in it,” the girl supplied. Enola looked at the room in a new light. Finally looking to the single bed.

“We’re lucky. Most girls here are five to a room,” the girl said as she blew out a match for the lantern on the table. She gave it to Enola, “this might help,” Enola sent a smile as she took it.

That smile then died as she yelped. You spun around, seeing a mouse run out of the room.

“Oh. Sarah likes to leave cheese out for ‘em,” Enola and you followed the girl’s knock of her head to see some cheese on the floor, a bit eaten out of it, but still there.

“She’s soft,” Enola looked to you as you cocked your head and still looked at the cheese. You both were, but she knew you had that in spades.

“What does she look like, Sarah?” Enola asked, getting out her own notepad. You stood by her, turning yours to a new page.

“About this tall,” the younger girl said, putting her hand up fairly high, “pretty. Very pretty. Green eyes, red hair, freckles –” she explained.

“Red hair?” Enola questioned. You paused your attempt at drawing what the girl may of looked like.

“We weren’t sisters in the usual way,” she said. You smiled, now even more wanting to help this girl.

“Found sisters,” a new voice said. You all looked over, seeing an older girl, a bit older than you both, “Sarah took her in,” she said, tone unfriendly, “who’re they, Bess?”

Enola moved forward, as you stuck your tongue out, too lost in your attempt at drawing, “Enola and Y/N Holmes,” she said on your behalf, holding her hand out.

“They’re detectives,” Bess said.

“They both look like they’d blow over in the wind,” was the retort from the newcomer.

“Mae!” Bess reprimanded.

“So, Bessie, what was Sarah wearing the day she disappeared?” Enola asked, knowing that you’d be listening for the details you could both note down and try to draw.

She saw that Mae was looking at you suspiciously, eyes narrowed a bit.

“What’s she doing?” Mae asked, seeing Enola lightly touch one of Sarah’s items of clothing.

“Shh,” was all Bess said.

“They’re both wasting their time,” Mae said, “the other one’s over there, drawin’. Not much’ll come out of that,”

“You’d be surprised,” Enola said softly as she concentrated, “on what they can sometimes put together if you give them the pieces.”

Mae’s gaze went to you for a moment, but you’re just looking at Bess attentively. Patiently too.

“It was her other dress, the green one,” Bess said. You went back to your notepad as Enola continued exploring.

“Reading?” you say, pointing to the books.

“Oh, yes. She taught herself. Sarah said you had to learn about the world if you’re gonna live in it.”

Your mother said a similar thing. And you did, to a degree. But not as much as you needed, you would’ve argued. You still loved your mother dearly, however.

Enola looked to you, seeing some smudges of something pink on your finger. She looked into the drawer. Ah, so you had found something earlier. She picked it up, a piece of lipstick.

“Did she have a suitor?” She asked.

Apparently some took an interest. You wrote that down, possible motive and all.

As for the plants, apparently – despite one of them being very much alive – was not her forte, given the second one being dead.

“Look, how about you both quit sniffing ‘round?” Mae demanded.

Bess just told her to be quiet.

Enola looked to the fireplace, seeing ashes there, and a finger print. You tapped her on the back. She turned, and you held out a note you had found. She took it, looking at the date. The 12th March was the date. When enquired if it meant anything to Bess, Mae broke in, “that’s enough. We don’t need help from people like you.”

Well, that was blunt.

“I found them, so they’re staying,” Bess argued. Enola and you just looked between the two, not wanting to get involved, despite being the subjects.

Mae didn’t answer. She just looked at you both one more time, before departing herself.

Enola continued her lead of the note, you clocked Bess going into her pockets. Maybe you or Enola should get pockets like that, be useful for holding more items.

Apparently, Sarah worked two jobs, and gave you a name: “The Stag Antlers.” She then tried to offer you both the coin, but you both declined. She needed it far more than you both.

And the last time she’d seen her? A week ago, at the match factory. She’d had a fight with the Forman, Mr Crouch, in his office. According to the man, she was stealing. Bess vouched for Sarah, however.

After confirming to Bess you’d take the case, you were both hugged with the biggest one you’d ever received. You looked to Enola, she could see the softness in your eye, and the appreciation for taking this. To at least try and help.

You both agreed that she’d go the factory, and you’d draw up your own ideas on your own at home. That was the difference between you and Enola, however; while she wasn’t Sherlock in terms of being cold, she did look at those cases factually. You didn’t. Emotions ran you. Not logic. You were never good at that part. At least, not at all times.

So, it was fair to say you had about 55 million ideas as to what had happened to Sarah. You had even made a note board. Maybe you were destined for this detective life after all. You were sure your older brother had one, given his newest case being a spot of bother for him.

You were squinting at the board with barely anything on, when Enola quickly ran in.

“Y/N, I need you for something,” she said, grabbing your hand. When she turned and tried to leave, you didn’t move. Still stuck in your own world.

She clicked in front of your face, making you startle and come back to reality, “sorry,” she said, “but I need you.”

So, off you were again.

You were following Mae. You were leading it this time. With all your time out exploring London, you seemed to have a knack for hiding when the need arose.

“…but in truth, there’s only one,” Enola said as she followed you and Mae. You pulled her out of the way so she wouldn’t hit someone as she spoke to…well, whatever or whoever it was, once again.

“She’s a loose thread…” Enola and you hid behind a wagon. She looked behind again, eyes focused.

You both continue following Mae, “where is it you go?” you asked.

“Pardon?” She questioned, the two of you mingling with the crowd when Mae turned yet again.

“The things you say to thin air,” you clarified as you both saw Mae turn a corner, “the distant looks.”

“Ah, that…” she said, unsure of how to explain it.

That look appeared once again.

When, in her experience, she’s talking – to well, us – “they still can’t see you. Not yet. I’m hoping they will soon. I used to call you my ‘imaginary friend’ when we were younger. But, they’re catching on now, which is good. There is hope, still. I think they need that confidant to talk to, other than myself,” she smiled lightly, “you’ll see. I know they’ll get there.”

She turned back to you, “I will explain. I will. I promise. Just like you promised you’d find Dash when he went missing.”

You narrowed your eyes as you took a quick glance back to Mae to see her enter a pub – by the look of the thing, anyway – “but I did find Dash.”

“I know you did,” she said, “which is why I’m making my promise based on that experience. Now,” she pointed to where she too saw Mae go, “shall we?”

It was lively, to say the least. Packed too. It was like one thing you hated about London shoved into this place. Granted, the people were happy, and you were glad at that, at least. But still, far too many for your liking.

“We’ll be quick,” Enola assured as she gave a man who held a clipboard some money to be let in.

You nudged Enola, pointing to some people playing violin.

“A show,” she said.

“What’d you bet she’s here in it?” you signed to her. She considered it, then you both looked to the stage as the show started.

And there she was.

You and Enola knew your next move; get backstage. You both looked at each other, hands closed in a fist. You did quick rounds of “rock, paper, scissors,” with you being victorious.

“How do you always win?” Enola complained. You just tapped your head, making your way to the door, before she grabbed your hand.

“Be careful?” was all she asked. You nodded, tapping her hand; “you too,” the message was.

You both then parted. You finding it surprisingly easy to get in. Well, the packed place worked wonders after all.

You made your way in, looking around at the place. People running everywhere. Desperately trying to have it all go smoothly. Seemed, despite how it seemed on stage, behind the scenes it was a mess of people barely holding it together.

You found something, at least. The same lipstick you found before. As you turned, however, you found yourself pinned against a pole with a knife to your neck. Mae.

“You got five seconds to tell me why you’re here,” she said.

You put your hands up, before gesturing them to your pockets. She looked at them, then back at you, and watched you carefully as you lowered them, taking out the notepad. You flicked to the page you needed, giving her a shaky smile of an apology as you knew you were over the limit of five seconds. Still, you found what you needed, and showed it to her. You tapped on the part she needed to see; the part about the bar job. It was a lie.

You then tapped on another name; Bessie.

“There’s plenty Bessie don’t know. And plenty you don’t need to tell her,” at that, you shook your head. You wouldn’t.

You held up a finger as you went through more pages, before tapping once again on the important part. Enola had filled you in on what she found at the Match factory. Sarah had stolen some pages, the only question was why. You then tapped once again on a name; Sarah.

Mae understood your question.

“Just leave us be, alright? Posh people like you don’t belong in this fight.”

Ah, you realised, so there was something going on.

Despite not being a full fighter like Enola. She had taught you some things in the months of your time in London. Now was the real test.

It was a quick switch, bending an arm. But it ended up with you holding the knife to Mae’s throat. It was then removed, however, as you gave the knife back, “fighting, I can just about do. Was she hiding something?”

“So, you do speak. You’ve got more to you than I thought.”

A throat cleared, as Mae massaged her throat and took the knife back, Mae was needed on stage soon and was still dressed as a lad.

Mae looked to you, that angry look there once again, this time a sparkle to it. A hint of amusement, “get ‘em out of here,” was all she asked of the manager. She then showed you the knife, a fake. A spring one for the stage.

Fine, if it wasn’t going to work out with Mae, you were gonna try something else.

You bribed your way to Sarah’s makeup chair. Full of secrets, apparently. No kidding, you thought. She attracted the men with big pockets, and that – along with being a good actress – made her stay.

You paid him once again to find out which men in particular. One guy, society type, regular, apparently.

You looked at the box on the table. Enola wasn’t here, she was in the crowd. But, if she was, what would she have done? You thought.

So, you moved your hand around the box as the man continued to explain. She was keen on him. He’d send things; flowers, letters.

You heard a click as you went under the compartment. It was one of those secrets Sarah held onto. In it was a letter. From the mystery man, most likely.

Once again, you paid the man to try find the identity. Only one problem –

“Never gave one,” the manager said, “you see, they all think there’s hope. That love is coming their way. But it never is. Blokes like that, they want cheap, but they marry dear,” the man said as you left.

Wonderful.

You couldn’t find Enola at first in the crowd. Managing to put down that feeling you had in this crowd for a moment, you asked someone if they had seen her. They said she’d gone outside.

Going to that very place, out those doors and back into fresh air, there she was. Arms crossed and waiting.

She turned, as if knowing you were there, “thank goodness,” she said, relieved, “did you find anything?”

You held up the letter, “just one thing. And lost some money,” you admitted.

“It’s alright,” she assured, “now, the letter?” you opened it, the two of you started to walk. On it was a poem and a poppy.

Enola and you rolled your eyes at the love part of the poem.

“As we two ate of the fruit of love. A bell did ring in the sky above. So wander that place with its blossoms white. A chapel awaits us out of sight,” she read.

“Do you think that’s his name?” Enola asked you.

“Could be.”

Now there were more questions. Why did she leave? Did she run away with the man? Or was she running from him?

“I hope it’s the latter. His poetry is extremely bad,” you heard all of it, for once. You heard all of what she said. As you looked to where she had, however, you saw that there was…something, there.

You guessed this was the imaginary friend she’d talked about before. Only now, not so imaginary.

The two of you then started on your walk home, not hearing the walking stick clangs behind you…

At least, not at first. It took a bit, but you heard it once again. How it rang out. Looking back, no one else was there.

“Y/N?” Enola said, pausing when you did as well.

“Someone’s here. Can’t you hear it?” you asked her.

She listened closer, “I can,” she confirmed.

You went on a bit more, before turning once again. Nothing.

She tapped you three times on the arm; “hurry up,” was that message for you both.

So, you did.

With that adrenaline, you both crossed the street, having more added to it when you were reminded just how dangerous the streets of London were when a carriage nearly hit you both.

Then you found someone you didn’t expect to, Sherlock.

“Enola? Y/N?” he said, drunkenly, “what are you both doing here? It’s not safe,” you rolled your eyes, “there are scary people about.”

“Yes, let me know when you meet one.”

It was a long night, for sure. You ended up getting Sherlock back home, after his ‘disagreement over a glass of wine’ and his lecture about stairs and being stepped on. You hung back up the stairs, going to be there if one of the fell. No one did, luckily. Still, you doubted your abilities to actually stop their falls.

He told you not to touch anything in his acclaimed room. You both ignored him, however. You read over the notes to his case, on a board bigger than your own with a map of London and notes all around.

The lines were gibberish to you both.

Sherlock was, lets say, not the most pleased the next morning.

“This is why I don’t have people in my rooms. Look what you both have done,” he said, trying to work through his hangover and be the…brother? You weren’t quite sure what role he was trying to play here, to be honest, “my papers are entirely out of order,” he tried to rearrange them, before stepping back up.

Sherlock denied your offers to help, and did what made him known in the first place; he read you both like a book. He detected things. He knew Enola was in the match factory. The nails gave it away.

He moved onto you, but paused, “your neck is red,” he said. Enola spun around, looking to you as you subconsciously put a hand on it, “someone has gripped it or held a knife against…” he paused. Enola’s face fell. You cleared your throat.

“Are either of you involved in something dangerous? Because you are both still my wards. If you need my help, my offer remains on the table. Don’t be so desperate to prove yourselves.”

You scoffed, “you just rejected ours. Besides, I got out of it.”

“But you might not have if –”

“But I did,” you said, again, “Enola’s training helped me.”

“So, you required her help, then?” he had you there.

“Y/N and I don’t need your or anyone’s help,” despite having said that, she did take the food he offered, and waited for you by the door.

“Y/N,” Sherlock called out as you approached her. You shut your eyes and sighed. She gave you a nod, leaving the room and waiting for you outside. Giving you the space to talk to your brother.

You wordlessly turned to Sherlock, “if you don’t think this is the path you should walk,” he said, “then Enola will understand.”

“I can’t…” you pause, the words not being able to be spoken. So, instead, you pulled out your notebook and wrote them, showing them to him, “I can’t just leave her. She needs me.”

“More than you’ll ever know,” he admitted, before passing the notebook back to you, “but you can still help her and not get hurt in the process.”

“But I’m still here,” you argued.

“Barely,” he said, a bit firmer this time.

You looked at him in confusion, cocking your head to the side like a dog.

He sighed before continuing, “this world needs that head of yours, Y/N. I read your work, and while I think it needs work, there is a talent there. A talent you can hone by not doing this.”

“It is better I, than her, hurt. She can solve it, I can help –” that’s all he read before he responded.

“And I need you alive!” you backed up a bit at his shout. Even Enola looked up to the open window in concern.

He softened his voice as he spoke, “you’re my Wards. And you are my…” siblings, it was on the tip of his tongue. The word wouldn’t leave him, however.

“Now whose being emotional?” you threw back at him, before leaving, wiping at the tears on your face.

There was a rage in Enola’s eyes when she saw you that you had never seen before. You were just glad she was on your side.

Interestingly enough, she took you to the bench you’d go to on your walks out. It was nice, the familiar.

Seemed you were in it too with Enola. Instead of the tree, it was now a bench. How civilised.

She ranted to this new friend you both seemingly had, as she ate. She broke half of it off for you. You weren’t exactly in the eating mood. She was, however. The crumbs went everywhere. Your face scrunched up at them as you swatted them away. She didn’t pay it any mind, however, just continuing the rant about Sherlock’s room, his case.

Her own case of ranting paused when an old friend came knocking. Tewksbury. It was awkward, it was very awkward.

Even with you, he was. Must’ve been your state, that gentle look in his eye turning to concern when he looked to you. You just gave him a tight-lipped smile, not exactly a great start to the day. You’d had better.

You looked to Enola’s imaginary friend. You still didn’t know what it was. But, it seemed almost welcoming. You narrowed your eyes at it. Right now, however, it seemed more interested in Enola. You looked away, zoning back in on the conversation between your two friends; a bit jealous, to be honest.

Enola revealed she’d seen all of his doing. You looked to your new friend, hoping no one else saw you as you facepalmed at it. Seemed no one did. Good. Felt almost liberating, to be honest, that no one saw you action.

He’d even written to her. Ah, so those were the letters she’d packed. She’d never told you what they were.

Tewksbury, the kind friend he was, did offer his help. But, it was declined. Which was fair, he was a Lord, and he’d almost died once. He had more things to keep on eye on this time than survival, or you two.

You didn’t want to burden him.

“Is he looking back?” Enola whispered to the object. You watched your sister oddly. Why would that matter?

You both looked back, he wasn’t.

That seemed a relief to her.

Then the overexplaining came in.

“I don’t come here every day. Just on days when I feel a need…And sometimes he doesn’t take this path –“

“Yes, he does,” you filled in. You felt a bit smug, feeling your sister’s glare on you.

“He doesn’t,” she assured it, “sometimes he takes a parallel one –“

You coughed, but she knew you were saying something under your breath. She hit you in the side, making you cough a lot.

You sort of wished you just saw her phase out for a moment, if you were honest.

Still, it got you somewhere.

You know where to find me. Tewksbury had said that.

The poem was a cipher. No wonder it was bad poetry.

The two of you found different sections.

You had an address: 28 Bell Place, Whitechapel.

She let out a squeal, one that surprised even you. One she had to quieten down when a mother shushed her as her child cried.

You and Enola got up, “the game has found its feet again,” she declared, as you both walked off, arm in arm to your destination.

“What does that even mean, ‘again’?”

“Nothing.”

“No it’s not.”

“It is.”

“Is not.”

“Is.

“Isn’t.”

“Will we do this the whole way there, my dear sibling?”

“We shall,” you confirmed.

She just sighed.

The plan was simple; reunite Bessie with her sister once again, your names would be known, a job well done…

The door was open. Ah. Bugger.

Carefully, with her leading the way, you made your way up, swatting away any insects that flew by.

There were signs of a fight. But Enola found a brush with Red hair. Just like the factory. Sarah had been there.

You tapped Enola’s arm, but she was looking at the hair, so you ran over to where Mae was. She was dying. You put your hands over the wound, it only got yourself bloody too.

As Enola, oblivious to this, continued to explore. You hit your foot on the floor, Mae gasped. Seemed you both had the same idea there.

Enola spun around, letting out her own gasp at seeing the situation.

You were both panicked; in her last moments, Mae moved down to her pocket. The deep ones like Bessie had.

Taking breaths to try calm yourself, even just a little, you put your hand into the pocket.

“What are you – what are you doing? Y/N” Enola asked, still shaken by what had happened. You’d witnessed a death. And you were covered in that person’s blood.

There was a piano piece: “The truth of the Gods” it was named.

A door creaking made you both jump, you hid the letter up your sleave. God you wished you had those long pockets.

Lestrade. The very same man who caught Enola last time, now acted more as a friend.

You just kept your eyes on the man as Enola tried to explain the situation.

Lestrade – in a way, almost rightfully, almost, as in like a slither of a chance, given the circumstances – thought that you two had done it.

As Enola continued to clear up the facts and your names, then clanging was heard again.

You looked to Enola, she nodded. She recognised it too.

The door was knocked open by the cane. His name was Superintendent Grail. He wasn’t all that impressed by there being more Holmes detectives.

“Good god, more?” he asked, exasperated. At least, you thought so, anyway.

Turned out, Grail was looking for Sarah too. On charges of theft and blackmail.

Grail was like Lestrade, only less able to be talked down. Words couldn’t leave you. In fact, all went quiet. All you heard was your heartbeat. It was loud, and it was fast.

Enola turned to Lestrade, you didn’t know why. But Enola tapped you on the arm, pointing to him. You followed, but she felt your pulse for a moment, it was skyrocketing.

She gave Grail her purse. You, for all your effort of hiding, the letter. Or, he seemed to ask for it anyway. Enola took it out of your grip, knowing the internal situation you were in.

He got loud; Enola backed into you a bit.

Your heartbeat got even faster. It was do or die now. Go to jail, or run.

You picked run. Enola hit Grail in a part that you shan’t name. And you ran. Booting the door to stop more officers from getting in.

You didn’t even think, you just did. You went onto the roof just like Enola, falling with less grace than her. She helped you up, and off you went.

You went into different parts of the crowd. You didn’t bother saying sorry, as you knew the chase part would give all the context you needed.

You were then in an alleyway. No way out. At least, not at first.

You tapped Enola’s arm four times: “trust me?” it asked.

She stamped her foot on the ground twice: “yes,” was the answer.

You went first, reaching a pipe and climbing up, Enola following after you. You kicked your foot into the horizontal part of the pipe, it swinging down and hitting another officer as Enola kicked one and climbed up after you.

Both on the roof, after helping her up, you knew your next moves. Your own fear of heights be damned, this was an emergency. You could let all the fear hit you later.

As you went across, Enola slips, you reached for her, only to miss and nearly fall yourself. She grabbed onto a pipe, “I’m alright, Y/N!” she called, “keep going! I’ll meet you at Sherlocks!” she knew you hadn’t move, “I promise. Dash promise.”

She still hadn’t paid off the first one, but it was enough to get you to move.

You reached the other entrance first, via the chimney. Enola joined you a few moments, and gave you a smile. You gave it back, but it became puzzled via her outfit. You both then held your breath as you heard Lestrade talking to Sherlock. Finally, the right chimney. The others were a bit awkward.

Sherlock, seemingly who had a six sense – no wonder he made it in the detective world – opened up his board and out you came. For once, it was you who was more graceful than Enola, who fell right down.

“My mistake. I should have warned you I was opening it,” so he wasn’t completely inhumane. He had a sense of humour. You were sure of that of your brother anyway, but it helped to know. Sherlock offered Enola assistance up, but it was rejected. She straightened out her new clothes.

“Dare I ask?” The look Enola to your imaginary friend was all you needed to know. No, was the answer.

To him at least, anyway.

“I think it fits you,” you said.

She turned to you, “thank you, Y/N.”

“How much did it cost us?”

“Not too much. Not to worry.”

You nodded, knowing similar was said to when you some, probably, when you needed answers.

“Never mind. Tell me everything.”

She tried to steer it to Sherlock’s case, one he moved off of instantly. You had heard a lot after all.

Enola’s impression of Lestrade was good, you gave her that.

“He’s a ninny. I needed to know what he had on you.”

Enola and you looked to him with pleading looks.

“Money,” he conceded, “unaccounted transfers going in and out of government offices,” you both turned to the board, “my theory is either bribery, extortion, or blackmail.”

“Or all of the above,” you suggested.

“It very well good be,” Sherlock admitted.

He continued. There were separate filings for five different accounts all going from the Treasury into one private bank.

Someone was getting rich off this.

You didn’t want the extortionate – ha – amount of wealth that some people had, just enough to live and try help those who couldn’t.

No name was to this person, however. Just a number. The money had disappeared when Sherlock went to the bank to inquire. It went to another bank, then another. And on and on the movement went. Each one with different numbers. 27 in total.

“Commitment,” you commented.

“Very much so,” Enola agreed, “what can you deduce from that?” she asked your older brother.

“Three things,” he said, “firstly, the man’s a game player, a perhaps a genius in mathematics, capable of covering his traces at every turn. Secondly,” Enola and you lifted up another finger, trying to keep all this information together, “the sources are varied. Five banks, south of the river, but no clear link between them. All anonymous. All going into one pocket.”

“And the third?” You and your sister asked in sync. Sherlock forgot you were twins.

He blinked, then remembered, chuckled to himself before continuing, “he knows I’m onto him.”

Great.

Every thread Sherlock pulled – a loose thread, as your mother called it – it disappeared, then returned somewhere else.

It was a dance, as he called it. You found that description quite pretty.

It was, in his own words, “infuriating.”

No leads for him, nor for you it seemed. Same boat and all that.

That was a lie, “one,” he said, “A week before the first transfer, there was a break-in at the Treasury office by a man in a taper crown hat.”

A document was taken as you noted down the hat. Very sensitive apparently, the document. As for how it all connected, Sherlock was at a loss.

“Your turn,” he said, walking to his office, “I hope the blood’s not yours.”

“We’re looking for a girl, Sarah Chapman.”

“Her sister, Bessie, employed us.”

“Sarah worked at Lyons match factory by day, and the music hall at night.”

“She has a…lover, whose flat we went to.”

Enola passed the letter with the poppy on to Sherlock. You both hadn’t really noticed it, the talking over each other. Granted, it used to be – and still was, in certain situations – sign and talk, but same thing.

Sherlock, being who he was, figured it out instantly.

“Whitechapel, yes –“ Enola said, taking the letter back.

“There, we found her friend –“

“Mae –“

“…murdered,” you whispered the last part out. Seemed it was finally catching up on you.

Sherlock’s expression changed, into one of concern. Enola looked down. Seemed it had finally caught up on her as well.

“And who killed her,” well, that lasted long on Sherlock’s end, “this poppy fellow?”

You hated that flower book for making you stay away from certain things. Sure, nature had its dark point but…actually, your point was void, as the book you were reading was non fiction.

“Told you it would help,” Enola said, looking at your imaginary friend. You were startled, seemed you’d confessed all that to it, “it’s fine,” she assured, “I do it too when I need.”

You then turned back to Sherlock, “I suspect so,” Enola said.

“Maybe he took Sarah, and her friend discovered it. I think,” you added on.

Sherlock scoffed, “love. What it does to people.”

You just hoped the reason he shouted at you wasn’t because of hate.

Sherlock continued, asking what she was killed with. Then if you touched the weapon. You had not. Then came a question you guessed would; why did you run?

“We found more evidence on her. This policemen wanted it. Y/N had frozen. I had to get them out of there, too.”

“He had a stick,” you say, looking down in shame for your action.

“Grail,” they had a history, Sherlock revealed.

Then was the newest letter, the bloodstained musical one. You stayed in your place.

Sherlock tried playing it, Enola looked to you, then your friend with a look of confusion. Fine, so it wasn’t music. It wasn’t very good.

As bad as the poem. Oh, then Sherlock said that very thing. Maybe you did have hope yet.

Sherlock asked to have it be left with him, something you and Enola denied him. It was yours. It was important to your case.

You slipped up as you both continued to explain that case, however. You said she would never blackmail people.

“You don’t know this person,” Sherlock argued.

“We feel we do.”

“You came here running from the police. Someone is already dead, and you are both now suspects in a murder case. You’ve let your emotions get the better of you,” Sherlock reprimanded as he got his coat, “stay here. Don’t leave. I will look into this.”

“But Sarah Chapman is our responsibility. No one else cares for these girls!” Enola argued, “we promised her sister.”

“The first mistake a detective makes is to make it about themselves and not the case,” he went to the door, opening it with frustration. That melted a way for a moment, as he paused at the door, turning back to you both, “Enola, Y/N, I know neither of you are a fan of unnecessary advice, but please…don’t turn into me.”

He shut the door. As Enola looked to your friend once again, “we should probably write that down.”

“Do you want me to?” You offered.

“Please?” you nodded at her request, doing so.

“I’m sorry,” you said, after a short while.

Enola turned from the window, “whatever for?”

“We almost had Sherlock, and I – he was right, I was being emotional.”

Enola sat opposite you, “that’s not a bad thing, Y/N.”

“Maybe it is for this type of work,” you traced shapes onto the table, before looking back up at her, “I wish I could that that, you know? I wish I could just talk to anyone out there. I wish I could not have to write it down. I wish I could just…turn it all off. Like a switch. It would certainly help.”

She leant forward, holding her hands out. You placed yours in hers, “I don’t think your emotions are a curse, Y/N. I think they’re your greatest gift. You put it into your writing. You put it into how you interact with people, be that with paper, fingers, or words. You’re careful about what you say and when. That care you had for Tewksbury made you warn him and go back to save him. That anger you had for the man in Bowler hat made you think fast to get us out,” she smiled, “our brains just work differently. That’s a fact we can’t avoid. But, there is another.”

“That is…?”

“When we put them together, nothing can stop us.”

She gave you a moment to process her words, letting you speak first, “I take it you figured something out?” while its not what she wanted, it would have to do. There was still a case, after all.

“I have. A well-heeled gentlemen to afford love like that.”

“The papers?” you suggested.

She nods, “the papers,” she confirmed.

So, together, you read through different ones, trying to find something to match. Something to go from. A lead.

“Match makers ball…Enola,” you called. She came over to you, “look,” you pointed to a name, “Typhus from the poster.”

She read further down, “hosted by Henry and Hilda Lyon. 12 Marchmont Square.”

“Wait,” you said, going back to your notebook and scrolling back a bit. You brought out the “12 March” note.

“It’s not a date at all…” she then continued reading the print, “’Their eldest son, William Lyon will be leading the first…’”

“What?” you prompted.

“Tewksbury. He said about…sweet Williams. Red. At the factory, a man there was named William.”

“They’re the same?”

“That…and, the flower. It’s not a poppy. It’s a…” she left it for you to fill in.

You shut your eyes, trying to remember. You used to read that book all the time.

“Sweet William flower!”

“Exactly!” you both then looked at your comrade, “let’s see how sweet you are, Sweet William.”

She paused, giving you an excited look, “we’re going to a ball,” she chuckled. That smile then faded, “ugh.”

“Yes, ‘ugh.’” You both shared a laugh at that.

Still, you both found some outfits to wear, you knew your style now, so knew what to look for. And off you went. Bringing masks. Being wanted and all, it would help.

“Tis I,” Enola said, as you both turned back, removing the mask. She then put it back, “tis not I.”

She then looked to you, “you do it?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun, dear sibling.”

“No –”

“Please…”

“Enola, no.”

“Please, Y/N…”

“No –”

“Please!” she begged.

You sighed, “tis I.”

“Louder.”

“Tis I,” you said, a bit louder.

“Louder!”

“Tis I!” You announced to the heavens above.

Enola laughed, “see? Took some weight off, didn’t it?”

You chuckled yourself, nodding, “It did.”

You go in first, but Enola turns back and raises her eyebrows, glad it’s working.

As you went in, however, you saw it was…not that type of ball.

“No masks. No matter,” your sister declared.

You both leant against opposite sides of the doorway, listening to the speech. Of how Henry Lyon turned everything into gold. He was a legend allegedly because of what he did with matches. In two years, he’d turned red into black. Or, as so funnily quipped, red into white?

He mentioned Typhus as well. Then, William was pointed to. There he was, in the flesh.

Enola and you both watched the fans and how they were moved. Like Sherlock it seemed like a dance. Like its own language to be deciphered.

Wait…

As the speech ended with the string on the cake being set on fire and the ball in full swing, you and Enola regrouped, “what is it?” she asked you as you weaved your way through the crowd.

“I think I figured a small part of Sherlock’s case out.”

“Oh?”

“What if it’s a cipher. That fan…they seemed to be communicating something. Maybe his notes are the same…”

“I will give you a well done, but we will have to tell him this later. Once we’re done here.”

“Dash promise?”

“Dash promise.”

You then pass three women, “I believe I’ve seen that dress somewhere before. Oh yes, last year…” the girls laughed.

“I think it’s charming, elegant,” another, blonde girl, said to you.

“I think you are kind,” Enola said. The two sharing a smile. The girl then sent one to you as well. One you returned.

You both continued on your way, but you breath picked up a bit when you saw that the Lyon family were reunited.

“I shall handle this,” she assured you, “I will be back,” she gave your hand a squeeze, before leaving to confront them.

You went to the side-lines, folding your arms as you looked at how comfortable everyone is.

“I mean what I said,” that voice from earlier said. She holds out a glass towards you, of which you gratefully take.

“I’m Cicely,” she held out her hand, one you shook.

“Y/N.”

“Are you that girl’s chaperone?” the question almost killed you via choking on your drink.

“No. No,” you said, after getting your breath back, “she’s, my sister.

She looked between you both, “ah, I see,” she said, “my mistake.”

“It happens,” more than you’d ever have liked to admit.

“I think your sister might need you, it seems,” she said, pointing to where Enola was walking up the stairs.

“It does,” you said, “excuse me.”

“Of course,” she said, letting you go.

You caught up with Enola at the balcony, “that did not go well.”

“It did not, no.”

There was a pause. You just looking at the party itself, Enola looking between it and you. You looked up after a minute, not liking the heights again.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

You looked at her silently, eyebrows raised, “I shouldn’t have left you there. I should have come back for you.”

You shook your head, “I can look after myself.”

“I know you can,” she said, softly, “I just worry about you.”

“You don’t think I worry about you, too?”

“I know you do. It’s just…I think we…” she didn’t quite know how to do put into words that wouldn’t sting.

“I think I have, inadvertently, put you in my shadow. Just like Sherlock put us in his.”

“If it means anything, I don’t think you have.”

“It does. It does. A great deal, I can assure. It’s just, I fear I may have compromised you in the process. Forced you to become something you aren’t.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

You both looked back out over the crowd, as someone new – but someone Enola recognised – approached, “Terrible, aren’t they? These things?” she said, “all Pompidou and popinjay,” she then looked at Enola only, “have we met somewhere before? I feel I recognise you from somewhere.”

Enola chuckled awkwardly, “I simply have one of those faces.”

The other woman laughed, “Mira Troy, private secretary to Lord McIntyre” she introduced, she gestured down to the man himself, “Treasury Minister.”

“Tabitha. Tabitha Timothy. And this is my brother (or sister), Troy (or Tiffany for she/her),” she was quick on the name, but – once again, like the estate – she had to refer to you the wrong way.

The woman smiles to you both, “you mustn’t let them concern you,” she said, “it’s just a performance. Everyone here is playing a part. Testing each other,” she pointed down to one couple, “winning,” then some girls on the side-lines, “losing,” she then turned back to you, “and it’s fun, once you now the rules.”

You then tried not to stumble as you spoke, “what about the fans?”

The woman looked to you, “what are they doing with them?” Enola clarified for you.

The woman chuckled. They were sending messages. Things they couldn’t say out loud. Enola then thanked her for the lesson. One Mira said was ‘hard learned.’ She then passed on her fan to Enola. All she had to do, if she wished to speak to William, was to use that.

Enola flicked the fan open, making a face as she waved it. Trying to be a lady. You did smile a bit at her antics. It grew even more, and she followed your eyesight to see a man, charmed by those moments.

“Help,” she mouthed to you and your silent friend, but neither of you did anything. You liked this entity.

She made wild gestures, desperately trying to get him away. He got the signal, but was hurt.

“Could have gone worse, dear sister,” you said, nudging Enola with your elbow.

“Hush now,” she snapped, “I need to think.”

“Oh…” you looked up at her noise, then followed her eyes to see someone you didn’t expect. Tewksbury.

“I have an idea,” she said, leaning down so you could both whisper now.

“And that is?”

“Have Tewksbury teach me how to dance.”

“Ah,” you said, looking to your friend, “go get him then. I’ll be here.”

She gave you a pat on the back, “I’ll try to not be too long.”

“I’ll keep on eye on William.”

“Thank you, honestly. You’re a good sibling, Y/N.”

“You’re a good sister, Enola.”

After that, she goes to get Tewksbury, leaving you alone.

As she learns, you look at your shared imaginary friend, “can I be honest?” You asked, looking down, the glass – it looked to be anyway – and not feeling that judgment like before, “maybe Enola is right. Maybe I am becoming something else. To tell the truth, even I don’t know. My own voice shocks me. I do not sound like her, or mother. Yet I was raised the same. I speak the same, but it does not sound the same. I sound less like the people in here. And more like people out there,” you pointed with your thumb outside the hall.

“Sherlock said love made you do things. Maybe that is why Tewksbury is around me. To get to Enola. I don’t understand why, or that notion. But…it does trouble me.”

As you finished your speech, Enola exited the room. She took her place by you again.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Always,” you lied.

The two of you split up again as Enola got her dance signed by William. The writings matched.

The two of you then just needed a moment to strike. So, you stayed back, happening to be in the same place Tewksbury was. While Enola ate, you drank. Only a small amount, but still.

Enola and Cicely had a conversation, one you were half listening into. Mainly Enola’s side, with her denying liking Tewksbury. Liking someone was fine, nothing wrong with that and –

Oh. Oh, the romance books you read as a child. They never did much for you, to be honest.

“Do you not have a dance partner?” Enola asked as Cicely went to Tewksbury to ask for a dance; he looked back to you as he signed it.

“I shall watch, rather than participate.”

“Very well, then. Keep an eye out.”

“I will,” You assured.

After the dance, she approached you, “we’re meeting. At midnight.”

“Shall we,” you say, offering your arm, “to not bring suspicion.”

“I’m afraid we must conform, if only for a moment. Although, you have been for a whole night, dear sibling.”

“That night is almost over.”

“That it is.”

As Enola and Tewksbury argued, the male looked to you, “did you know about this man?”

“Why is that important? But no, I did not know about it.”

“So, you are living in her shadow, then?”

The words stung you.

“I – I apologise. That –”

“No, no,” you said, “she thought it true, as well.”

“Y/N,” Enola’s hand was rejected when you moved back. Not in a flinch, it was the calmest she’d ever seen you.

“You’re right,” you admitted, “I may have. But I have made my bed, and I shall now sleep in it,” you then point to the other two, “now, whatever this is between you, you resolve it. I am not standing here a moment longer as you two talk ill of each other and tear each other apart over a thing as simple as love!”

The two were stunned by your words. But, before they could retort, William walked in.

However, before that could even be, Lestrade had appeared. Now, he had taken both Holmes siblings.

Tewksbury, always the honourable friend, had tried to argue your case, but you both stopped him. There was no point. You weren’t dragging him down with you.

This was your case. Not his. But he could still aid in one way.

He kept the letters as you were both escorted out.

You were together in one carriage ride, then separated in the next.

“No,” Enola cried, “Y/N, no! No, let me see them! No. No!” her cries only became more quieter the further you were away.

It seemed the police knew how dangerous you could be together.

So, you were both sent to different places.

Sherlock tried to use his detective skills to free you both, but it proved foul when Grail showed his silver bullet in the case of Enola’s fingerprints on the weapon, and you were always by her side, so you were an accomplice, with more blood on your hands than her.

You were silent, and you were scared.

You had never been to jail. But you had also never been this far from Enola or your family in general before.

You knew no one here. But one thing you did know, was that you were not safe.

You would never know this, but like Enola, you were surrounded – and expected a fight.

You got anything but.

Instead, there was a loud BANG! And the prisoners attacked the guards. In the mayhem, you found your way to the door. You slammed through it, and were greeted by Edith – Enola and yours’ friend.

“Get in!” she told you. You did so, only to see someone you thought you never would again.

“Hello, my little dove,” said your mother.

She expected the hug, but it still threw her back a bit, but she hugged you just as tight.

“Enola. She –”

“Shhh. We know. I know. Don’t worry, we’re getting her out next. Don’t worry,” she soothed.

You put your head on her shoulder, “I missed you.”

“Just as I did with you both.”

“Mother?” You asked as you pulled away.

“What is it?”

“I fear I have chosen the wrong path,” you admitted.

“Why would you say that dear?”

“I am glad Enola has her Detective agency, truly. And part of it being in my name is very nice of her. It…I don’t know if that’s me. Is that bad?”

“Of course, it isn’t,” she said, moving some of your hair out of the way. She put her hand under your chin, and gently brought your head up, “whatever path you choose, your true allies will walk it with you. I am among those. I always will be.”

You nodded, glad to have your mother’s wisdom again. But she also saw something else bothering you.

“Is there anything else that is troubling you, my dear?”

“Am I…are you my real mother?”

The way she paused did not sit right with you.

“I always knew this day would come.”

“…You’re not?” You asked, tears in your eyes.

“Of course, I am,” she assured, quickly, holding your hand, “not by blood, but something stronger.”

“Like Sarah…and Bessie…”

“Yes, love. Just like Sarah and Bessie.”

The ride continued as you took it all in. You weren’t a Holmes by blood. And yet they accepted you.

“Does…” the question wasn’t finished, but she knew what you were asking.

“Mycroft and Sherlock do, yes. Edith brought you to me when I was pregnant with Enola. There was a name on the basket, so I kept it for you. If you want, once we’ve solved this, we can find your blood parents?”

You thought about it, you really did. A part of your history that was fully yours. It was enticing. But –

“No,” you said, “I think that’s better left to whatever I can picture up here.”

“Very well,” your mother said, before opening her arms up again. You filled them quite quick with your own hug.

Enola was then freed, and she hugs you both tightly as you set off once again.

The police had now caught up with you, and the chase was on.

“So, this case of yours, how’s it going?”

“I don’t know. We were trying to help a girl find her sister, but I –”

“We,” you corrected. Enola smiles at you, glad you’re still on her side.

“We’ve made things worse.”

“Nonsense,” you mother said as she lit a match, “you stirred up a hornet’s nest. You are both onto something. Why else would they try and silence you?” she had a point; and a very good one at that.

She lit the bomb, “don’t worry, it’s completely harmless,” oh, so not bomb.

Either way, out the window it went. Whatever it was, it gave you some time to get away.

“This match factory, what do you know about it?”

“It’s a roaring success.”

“In two years, it’s doubled its profits.”

“And now there’s Typhus.”

“Typhus?” Your mother questioned, having been used to your overlapping talking since you were kids.

“Yes, the girls are going down with it.”

“They’re dying.”

However, given your mother’s face, she didn’t believe that.

“That’s a loose thread,” one that was now being pulled.

“What?” there was no answer, instead only a warning that they were back. Then a warning to brace yourselves. Your mother’s leg hooked your own, so you had some support.

BAM! The carriage shook as you all tried to keep your balance.

Another bomb was lit as your mother continued talking, “we know about these factories. Girls like Sarah Chapman, they’re expendable. They go missing, too often they die, no one cares. But this girl, they care about. And greatly. So, what does she know?”

“She stole something. Some papers.”

“Aha! So, what’s she gonna do with them? What’s her plan? She’s not a thief. She’s not a blackmailer. She is a troublemaker.”

“She knows something,” Your mother pointed to you, the three of you had something now.

“And that is infinitely more dangerous.”

As the carriage continued to shake, the three of you held the bomb as best you could. Enola blew out the match. The direction for it, this time, was the right, Enola’s side.

She threw it, and it landed right where they needed.

“Now, whatever Sarah is hiding, it’s a secret. You need to look for what she knows. Find that out, and everything else will follow. She’s probably right under your nose,” as your mother said that a bullet very much almost took that object off your nose. The three of you ducking down. Eudoria covering you with her body as much as she could.

She took a peek up, seeing who it was, “Grail.”

More shots rang out, some hit the parts of the carriage you were in, others hit where Edith were. Eudoria called out to your friend, but she was still ok. Good, you were still in this.

There was a tense moment of silence, none of you inside the carriage not knowing Grail’s next move. It was soon revealed to you, however.

In the form of the carriage going onto its side. You all flipped over, being crushed by your family.

When it stopped, Eudoria spoke, “that’s not good,” then she remembered you being slightly crushed, “so sorry, darling. Here we go,” she said as herself and Enola got up, helping you up as well.

Edith helped you all out, only for to then find yourself surrounded by Grail. One of his men tossed him his cane. You scoffed at it. Enola smirked, having an idea of why you scoffed.

Smug prick, he was.

“Glory be,” he said, “it’s the holy quadruple. I’ll make commissioner for this,” he then looked to his men, “take ‘em.”

That, as he’d find out, was easier said than done. Edith and your mother threw the first punches. You and Enola took your own fights each.

Now, as said before, you weren’t exactly an expert in fighting. Enola had always told you to ‘avoid the punch, make the counterpunch,’ so it was time to see if it paid off.

It did at first, you doing exactly as she had taught you. You even threw in your own thing, with the trees being used to angle your attacker into.

At least, until Grail approached you, hooking you with his cain and then slamming it into you. You fell to the ground, trying to recover. When you realised what you were in, a forest. Trees, grass – and, more importantly – soil.

You dug your hands into it, before throwing it up into Grail’s face, he cried out, clutching his eyes. Enola punched your first opponent in the face, before helping you up, only for you both to be thrown down as Eudoria came to your aid. Using his own weapon against him.

Enola, after the two of you got up, ran to finally finish Grail off, flipping him over. You then watched as your mother pulled a new pin, “this is not harmless. Run!”

You all did, as fast as you could.

You made it a bit further, before resting and recovering.

“Good thing I never valued my pelvis,” she said, helping Enola with her hair, “how about you, Edith? How are the kidneys?”

“Fine,” her friend answered, looking at the mark on your face, “you will be fine,” she assured you, before going back to Eudoria’s point, “I quite enjoyed it.”

“Hm,” your mother said, “you enjoy everything. It’s most irritating.”

Enola and you had been redressed as well. More protection from what was next.

The three Holmes’ walked together, with Edith taking the lead.

“So, um, how’s that useless boy of yours?” Eudoria asked, looking between you and Enola, “I hear he’s doing good work.”

“He is,” Enola said, after clicking her tongue.

“Uh-huh. Well then, perhaps not so useless after all.”

“He has his moments,” you said, your sister and mother turning to you and chuckling.

“I wouldn’t say he’s ‘my boy,’” Eudoria’s tiny smirk made Enola lose eye contact.

“You know, I sometimes think I brought you both up to be too independent.”

You both turned to your mother, “mother!” you both scolded her. Ironic, but still.

“I did it with all of you. You both, Sherlock, Mycroft. Strong, formidable, individual children all in your own right; but, well, perhaps a little lonely.”

Ah, so that was the word, then. You were lonely. A little.

Enola looked crestfallen, “you both will do very well on your own,” Eudoria said, stopping you both with hands on your arms, “whether that be together or not. But, with others, you could be magnificent. Together, you are extraordinary, but with more help, you could be more.”

Your mother then gestured to Edith, “who do you think organised all of this after all? Hm? Me?” Edith hugged Enola, then held her hand out to you, one she squeezed, “no, you find your allies. Work with them, and you will become more of who you are. You speak with one voice, and you will make more noise than you could ever have imagined.”

Enola and you both had tears in your eyes as you walked. This was goodbye for now. But you knew you both needed a talk like this.

“Come on. They should go. We’ll put them off their scent,” Edith suggested.

Eudoria nodded, fixing both of your hairs one more time. She put her hand on your cheek, “a battle scar,” she said, even if her tone was a little sad.

“A story unto itself.”

She smiled, “yes.”

“I don’t know if I want anymore,” you said.

She nodded, “understandable. Still, remember what I said?”

“Always,” you promised.

You looked to Enola for a second, who was hugging Edith, then back to your mother. She knew your question.

“Do you want to tell her?” she prompted.

You used to hate when she did this, throw the question back at you. But now, now you understood why she would do that. For you to form your own answer.

To find your own way through the issue.

You nodded, and she did too.

She then turned back to Enola, a hand on both of your shoulders, “so, you dust yourselves down, and keep facing forward. And, if either of you ever get condemned for murder again, you give me a shout,” it made you both smile, having your mother in your corner. Always.

“We will,” you both promised.

Tears fell on your end as you hugged your mother and Edith.

“Be careful,” Enola said to Eudoria. She nodded; she always was.

So, with you and Enola at the front, you looked at each other, and nodded. Off you went, stopping and then you looked at your other friend at the comment about your hair needing a cut.

“I think ours is fine,” you nodded, agreeing. Still, you smiled. Your mother would always be there. When you needed her.

You both knew where to go next, “Bessie,” you said in sync.

The walk was nice. Just being in each other’s presence was enough. But you knew you had to say it.

“Enola...?” you asked quietly, coming to a stop. Enola herself paused, turning to you.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Can I, uh, can I tell you something?”

Her eyebrows knitted into confusion and concern for a moment, before she straightened her back, eyebrows rose back up, and she smiled, “of course you can.”

“It’s uh…I, um…”

“Y/N,” she said, taking your hands once again, “I promise it won’t drive me away. You can trust me. Whatever it is.”

“I’m not a Holmes,” ok, she didn’t expect that, “at least, not by blood. Edith…she brought me to mother, and she took me in.”

You saw her thoughts going a mile a minute, putting connections together. You just watched her, nervously playing with your fingers.

Then, she smiled, “ok.”

“’Ok?’” you parroted back.

“It doesn’t change anything,” she said, “Bessie and Sarah were found sisters. We’re found siblings. If anything, it just makes us stronger. Our bond is real.”

You felt more tears, and your smile wobbled. It was done; and it didn’t backfire.

“Come here, you,” she said, having seen this, and hugged you gently.

“Thank you,” it hurts her a little that you had thanked her for merely accepting you.

“Y/N,” she pulled away from the hug, holding your arms still, “you’re you. We might not fully know what that means for each of us, yet. But, know one thing, I will always walk with you down whichever road you choose. Always.”

“So will I,” you promise.

Together, you went to Bessie’s. Now a more united from than ever. You warned her about the danger, and that she needed to go somewhere safe you both solved this.

She had a place to go, Doris had a spare bed, her sister dead from Typhus. Enola then looked to the flowers. Speaking of dead things…

“Y/N, your notebook,” she said, putting the pieces together in her head. You flicked back to the notes on the factory, seeing the red and white in the different soils. The two-year gap of changing them as well made the picture become more clear to you both. The science book Sarah had, the jars Enola had found at house.

Then, the cheese you had looked at earlier. You approached it, pulling out a now dead mouse. But around it was the white substance as before.

You had a smoking bullet, now you just had to find someone to help you pull the trigger.

You and Enola shared a look. Tewksbury. You both crossed the road, now more careful, and knocked on his door. He opened it, stopping in surprise at your arrival.

“We need your help,” Enola said.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at you both still.

“Don’t make me repeat it! May we come in?”

He let you in.

“Firstly, I would like to apologise for so much. We – I have failed to see allies in plain sight. Y/N would visit you; they always knew you were on our side. And I’m sorry that I didn’t sooner,” she looked to you, giving you an apologetic look. You just nodded, knowing that it was now going to fixed.

“Enola,” Tewksbury said to try say his piece, “there’s something I wish to say too,” he moved Enola to the couch, gesturing for you to follow as well. You do. He sat in the chair opposite you.

It took him a moment, but he started, “all day, everyday, all I do is compromise. If I vote for this lord’s bill that will allow him to pump bilge water into a lake, then he will vote for my forestry reform. I want to stand up and say, ‘this isn’t right,’ but I have no allies. So, to do so would be a risk to all that is good, so I lie awake trying to work out which path to follow, alone.”

You knew what you wanted to say to him, but you could also tell that he wasn’t done, “there is no search for a wife, because politics consumes me constantly. That is the speech I stored up for you,” he said, talking directly to Enola.

Enola smiled a small one, “you’re a good man,” seemed she was right, the bond brought your twin being able to know exactly what you were thinking.

“I’m a man now?” he asked. Ah yes, he would only have been one once she declared it so.

“On occasion,” the two chuckled, you smiled, “but I understand your struggle, because we struggle too. I am sorry we cannot talk more, because we have –”

“A case to solve?” he guessed, even if he didn’t seem too hurt by it.

“The girl we’re looking for, Sarah Chapman, she has proof that girls are dying from the phosphorus they work with every day. And the factory are trying to cover it up as a typhus.”

“She knows what it actually is,” you say, “someone wants her dead because of it.”

“Then what can we do?” Tewksbury asked.

“We?”

That never got an answer, as a knock on the door was heard. You all stood.

“Don’t open it. It could be the police.”

“You’re still wanted by the police?” your friend asked.

“How do you think we’re here?” you threw back at him.

“You escaped?”

“Daringly so -”

“Forget we told you that,” Enola and you said in sync.

Tewksbury told you to hide, knowing that with the lights on, whoever wanted to see him, would know he was in.

You both did, going to a large plant room. As a last ditch effort to both keep an eye on it and be discreet, Enola held up a plant to cover her face, one you moved down.

It was Cicely, from the ball. She had come to ask him about a relationship.

Enola’s glare deepened more and more the more the two spoke. You kept your eyes on Tewksbury, watching and listening as he was gentle in getting her out. He was always a man of manners, it was one of the things you admired about him.

You both reappeared, Tewksbury didn’t know that you had seen the whole thing. He called her ‘flustered.’

Enola seemed to act unbothered, but she clearly was.

Cicely had come to him before, for help. She was working on a bill to change the factory law. For Enola, that sparked something. As Tewksbury continued to go on for a speech about his feelings for Enola, it then clicked for you as well.

As she said to your company that had been there this whole time, Sarah was Cicely. Sure, she went to seemingly dance with him at the ball, but it was also for the bill.

Enola ran out first, before opening the door back up, grabbing your hand, and pulling you with her. You were trying to do two things; one, fully grasp what Tewksbury was trying to say despite being flustered himself; and two, going back over everything you had seen with this new revelation in mind.

You made it outside, but Tewksbury stopped you both, asking if either of you had heard what he had said. Or, rather, what he didn’t say. What he meant. The meaning.

You were still trying that part.

“Yes,” Enola said, “you were saying that you…” she paused. The word there on her tongue, but unable to be spoken.

The stare between Tewksbury and Enola became softer, and yet more charged at the same time.

“That message you sent me with the fan at the hall,” you weren’t sure if you should do something else right now, but you also didn’t know where to go exactly. You were forced to stay put as this happened, “what did it mean?”

He was able to say the words, however, “it means I love you.”

Oh, that was it; and, judging by Enola’s smile and scoff, she felt that same way as well.

“Of course,” she said, having reached another conclusion now.

Tewksbury went to talk, but you held up a finger, “one moment,” you signed.

“They were working together, in love,” Sarah and William, that was, “they had a plan. To expose the corruption in that factory and stop what his father was doing. They wanted your help,” she said, turning back to Tewksbury, “William Lyon invited you to that ball. He’s a radical just like you.”

“They needed my help,” he said, putting the puzzle pieces together himself, “you’re right,” however, “but, Enola, we must return inside."

“I’m not just staying out here,” you quipped.

He looked to you, “no, of course. Both of you. We must go inside. The police are pursuing you both; and Enola, we have much to talk of,” he said, trying to pull you both inside.

“No!” she denied, slapping him on the arm, “I know we have much to talk of, my dear, dear lord. You love me. And as it turns out, I love you too.”

“You love me too?”

The smile and tears in her eyes said it all, “you really are a nincompoop,” she said, affectionately recalling the old nickname she had for him.

“Now,” she said, getting back on track, “hail a cab.”

He did so; and before you knew it, you were back at the factory. Well, for you, the first time at the thing. But still.

You made your way as quietly as you could across the gravel.

“Shh!” Enola snapped, hitting Tewksbury again on the arm, “you’re walking loudly.”

“But it’s gravel,” he argued.

“Here,” you said, “try this,” as you did a sort of dance on the gravel, not making as much noise as either of them.

“I don’t think he can, Y/N, he has large feet.”

“I know,” he said.

You reached the gate. Just as you’d expected, it was locked. Tewksbury helped Enola over, then he turned to you, but you stopped, “no.”

“No?” they both said.

“But, Y/N, this is our case,” your sister argued.

“I know it is,” you said, softly, “but I’m not the fighter that you are, Enola. At least, not in the same way. You go, we’ll stand guard, I’ll go over my notes.”

She thought about it, before nodding. Accepting this decision.

“If anyone comes. Tell them you’re a Lord or something,” Enola said to Tewksbury.

“I am a Lord,” Tewksbury pointed out.

“Then they’ll likely believe you,” she then turned to you, “and you are –”

“A detective,” you answered, smirk on your face. You winked. She smirked back. This was going good.

It was a small bit of time later, when Tewksbury spoke up, “do you think we should find our own way in?”

You looked to your friend, “why’s that?”

“It just…it doesn’t feel right, being right. Something feels off.”

You put your finger in your mouth, then holding it up. You shut your eyes, feeling the wind. The rush of it. The coldness of it all.

You opened your eyes, looking to your other friend, “he’s right,” you said, before looking to Tewksbury, “we should find a way in.”

He nodded, and the two of you left to do that.

You both did find a way in, and made your way to the only light in the place, the office. Entering it, Tewksbury seemed to want to speak to Sherlock, but you were more occupied with who was in the chair.

William. He was the one in the chair; and he was dead.

Lord McIntyre, the treasury man, had been profiting off this place; and William wanted to expose it. Cheaper formula for cheaper phosphorous. But one that was more deadly.

That was the corruption part, at least.

You wish you had Tewksbury’s reaction. But this wasn’t a death like Mae. As she said, you needed to stay unemotional.

You couldn’t quite. You felt sorry for the man, given all that had happened, and he wouldn’t be able to see it concluded. Still, you knew he’d get the justice he deserved.

Lord McIntyre seemed to be behind the death. Only –

“No one has sat in this chair,” Sherlock said, looking to the other chair in the room, “no marks on the carpet, no indentation. The cigar has been smoked, but is now cold,” he then picked up the ashtray, “and look, no ash.”

Enola took a closer look, “no lips have touched that glass.”

“Exactly,” Sherlock said.

“It’s been staged,” you concluded, everyone looked to you. But you only looked at the pieces, “they were placed here to tell a certain story. To hide who really did this.”

“Precisely,” Sherlock said.

By who, was the big question, however. It wasn’t McIntyre, he was off the hook, for the murder at least. But it had to be someone close to him. Someone who knew what they were up to and was blackmailing them.

That was number two then, blackmail. Now you just needed extortion.

Apparently, this person liked a game. And they hadn’t gotten what they had wanted.

“Poor William,” your sister said, putting her hand in his, only to find something in that grasp. A note. You looked at it too, and it was musical…

Ah, you pulled the musical letter out of Enola’s pocket and put it on the table. You made it fit. To you, it was still just music.

Enola read out the name again, looking to you. Maybe not to bounce an idea off of, but just to look somewhere else as her mind went over this new puzzle.

“Could be biblical, mythical,” Sherlock guessed.

“Theatrical?”

You looked up, ahead as you narrowed your eyes.

“The Gods is the –”

“Top row,” you finished, quietly.

“Yes," Tewksbury said, “the balcony.”

You clicked your fingers, and Enola saw in your eyes you had a similar idea.

“It’s not a song,” you said, holding it up to the light, the letters on it being from that theatre. Enola had a good look around, and made note of those things while you were backstage.

“It’s a map,” you both said together.

So, you had your destination, the theatre.

To say it was awkward in the carriage, was an understatement. Now was a time of calm, or at least build up. So, there was time to talk. As Tewksbury had said, apparently Enola and him had a lot to discuss. Yet, you noted, that no words had come out. You looked out the window, trying to focus on the sounds of the world around you. It worked, for a few moments. But it didn’t drown them out. Most people, you could. You didn’t know most people. These two, however, you did. And you cared for them dearly.

“Just to be clear,” Tewksbury said, “as to what we might be about to face.”

Enola shrugged, “there may be some violence. You’ve faced it before.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “I did have part of a suit of armour on,” he looked to you, “thank you, again.”

You just nodded.

“But yes,” he continued, “fighting will be…” he chuckled nervously, “yes.”

“You’ve been in a fight before, right?” Enola asked.

“Yes, plenty of fights. Fenced for my school.”

“Fist fights? The ones with no real rules?” you questioned.

He didn’t answer, his mouth opened and closed a few times, however.

“Fine, point taken. Can you teach me to fight?” he asked, looking between you. You just pointed to Enola, who knocked your finger down.

“What, right now? In a carriage?”

“Did I not teach you to dance in five minutes in a bathroom?” true, he did.

“Alright,” she said, “fine,” she looked to you, “swap, please?”

You both did so, even if it was a bit of a hassle. So, she taught him what she taught you; avoid the punch, make the counterpunch. She even taught him the same way she taught you, by forcing you to do so.

She gave him the same lessons, avoid the punch and don’t leave yourself open. Although, his want to be respectful did get in the way. So, she lamped him. He fell back, you moved a bit to make sure he didn’t collide with you. Enola chuckled, and you had a smile.

She did it again, the laugh continued. He snapped at her to stop. But that only made her laugh more.

Sherlock knocked on the top bit of the carriage, announcing your arrival. That lead to a silence, as they stared at each other. You were sure of what was going to happen, so you closed your eyes. Not even tightly, just enough so that you could focus on the ambience around you. And it all came to you, helped you control your breathing.

“Sorry you had to –” Tewksbury started to say, still laughing with Enola after the kiss.

“Give them a moment,” Enola said, as you started to let go of the ambience.

“What are they doing?” he asked.

“Preparing,” she answered.

You arrived, and made your way into the Paragon, ready to put another case again to the solved pile. Granted, it was a short pile for you two, but it still counted. You entered through the back, making your way onto the stage. It was odd, seeing it so empty, and so dark.

“May I see the map?” Enola asked. You gave it to her, and she held it up. X marked the spot.

You made your way to that area, at the Gods section, and to the chair the X was alluding to. There, lied something under it. A scroll. As she grabbed it, you noticed someone both new, and old at the same time.

“Sarah,” Enola greeted. There she was, in her Cicely outfit.

“It’s all there,” she said, in her natural voice, “all the proof we need.”

Enola reread it, then passed it to you, “the contract between Lyon and McIntyre,” when you looked back up from it, Sarah had removed her wig, “to change the phosphorus.”

Enola looked to the next one as you scanned the first, “what William stole for you.”

She then read her one, “and the pages from the factory register. That’s what you stole from the office,” Sarah nodded. Enola came to stand by you, “these are the names of the girls they killed.”

“I couldn’t let ‘em be forgotten.”

“We won’t,” you promised, and Sarah looked to you thankfully, but there was still a bit of doubt.

“And,” Enola continued, “it’s proof that match girls are dying from working in that factory, and they knew all along.”

“You’re a bloody good detective, Enola and Y/N Holmes,” Enola inhaled deeply, you just nodded – even if the job was more your sister’s title.

“You are too, Sarah Chapman,” Enola said.

“I will share this with the world, I promise you,” Tewksbury said.

“I shall write about it. Share it wherever I can,” you said.

That doubt Sarah had before had all but gone when she saw the conviction you both had to help, “thank you,” she said, eyes bright, “now we just need to find William. He was supposed to meet me six hours ago.”

Ah.

You all had to give the news. Enola gave her a hug; you gave her arm a pat. They were ready to go public, all they needed was someone in power who would listen or else no one would care. All the man was doing was trying to keep her safe. He’d paid for it.

But, looking to Enola, you both knew you wouldn’t let it be in vain.

Sherlock then spoke up, “we must move quickly, or we’ll lose you too.”

It was then, that another voice spoke up. Grail.

“Losing this…losing that,” he wasn’t along, Bessie was being held by him, with a knife to her throat, “seems you lost everything.

“Bessie!” Sarah said in concern.

“You’ve all been very careless,” Grail said as more of his men appeared, aiming weapons at you, “I’ll take those,” he said, looking at the papers.

“Let go of her,” Enola demanded.

He only leant down a bit to her level, instead, “give me the papers and I will.”

Enola looked back at you all, before meeting your eyes. You shook your head, despite the fear you had of death itself, you had to get this out there.

She couldn’t risk all of you, however. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bare anymore lose.

She walked forward, Bessie pleading with Enola through a look to stop. Your sister didn’t, however. So, she acted herself.

She bit him. As he cried out, Sherlock slammed his stick into the pistol of the one holding him hostage. You were lucky with your doge of a bullet; your fist went into your would-be killer. You threw Tewksbury’s one away to Sherlock.

“Run, Bessie!” Sarah shouted, she did so as Enola bent Grail’s arm and kicked him.

“Don’t just stand there!” Sherlock yelled at Tewksbury as he looked back to you blocking one punch, then hitting your one with your own. He ran, tackling yours to the ground.

Enola, meanwhile, untied the rope of the trapezium, not landing it perfectly, but still. She made her way off the stage, just dodging a bullet fired at her from Grail.

As you fought your fight, Sherlock took a bullet from Grail. The man then aimed up to you, but luck as on your side as your opponent was in the way, taking the bullet for you.

Tewksbury went down the stairs, hoping you had yours handled. He was about to start his own scrap, remembering Enola’s lessons and –

He missed the punch, instead being the one who was countered.

Sherlock was on the stage, fighting someone new. This one had a blade.

You ducked a punch, hitting your one in the throat, before hitting his head into the chairs. It wasn’t nice. It was rough. But you had won.

At least, for a moment, as you were then on the floor. Then up again. Then almost going over the balcony, off the gods and down to earth. Sherlock looked up, after having thrown Tewksbury his blade. You gave him a wink, before ducking low. The man who had almost sent you off almost went off himself. Sadly, like you, he was able to as well.

Enola had made her way upstairs, jumping onto a wooden beam, hoping it would’ve brought her to safety. Instead, it only brought her to a dead end. Hopefully, not an actual one.

She took a hit or two but was able to hold her own. Until a hook was involved. It slammed into her head, blood left her, and the world went fuzzy.

She didn’t even hear the bang of her hitting the wood, but she felt it. She looked over, seeing Tewksbury bloodied and bruised; focusing for a moment, she saw you being strangled, the man seemingly deciding whether to go through with his plan to through you off or not.

She looked up and saw something that would save her. The winch. All she had to do, was make the hook go up, then she could go down.

She rolled off, as Tewksbury found the will power in him to fight, and knocked out his opponent. You, meanwhile, you had never been a fighter like Enola. You were sure she would’ve dispatched this man at this point.

But that was the point, you weren’t Enola.

So, putting your hand on the ledge, the man and you going over. His grip on you failing and he plummeted to the earth, while you struggled for grip on the ledge.

“Y/N!” Tewksbury called out. The other three looked up at your struggle. They knew that fall, while it might not have killed you, would hurt you massively.

Trusting yourself, you let one hand go, to try to point. You swung, so it made it hard for them to guess what it was you were pointing to.

Sherlock, like the man he was, figured it out, “the chairs!” he announced.

Together, they pushed a table over to you, the one directly below having been smashed by the man’s fall.

They then found some chairs and put them on top of the other.

“Just hold on!” Enola called up, before wincing, “sorry!”

You didn’t respond, you just tried all you could to hold on.

“You’re safe now!” Sherlock called, giving you the all clear.

You swung a bit with on arm dangling. You were indeed. But heights were never your thing.

Taking one more breath, closing your eyes, you lowered your foot as far as your fingers would allow. It touched one chair. Slowly, you place the other on it.

You were in the air now. You had to recover quickly as the chairs rocked.

“Here,” Tewksbury said, “if we each hold an end, it should stabilise it enough.”

The other three complied, doing so.

“It’s alright, we won’t let you fall,” Sherlock assured.

“Because I’m your ward?” You guessed, lowering yourself into the self-made ladder.

“Because you’re my sibling, Y/N,” Sherlock corrected. The chairs wobbled a bit as you paused.

Even Enola looked to him in a new light. She smiled, and he smiled back.

You reached the table, Enola giving you a hand to help you off. When you were on ground level, she brought you into a hug, before knocking your foreheads together.

“We did it,” she said, softly.

“We did,” you confirmed.

“Quite the story to write down.”

“If anyone would believe it,” you countered with.

“We would.”

You pulled back, looking at her head, “your head,” you said, putting your hand on it, she winced, and you pulled away, “sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” she said, “I’ll be fine, Dash promise.”

You chuckled at the promise.

You turned to Tewksbury, seeing his state, “you didn’t throw the first punch?”

“Oh, I did,” he assured, “I just missed.”

You nodded, “you’ll get there.”

Then, you looked to Sherlock, who gave you a nod. One you gave back.

McIntyre, the police, and Lestrade appeared, giving you his thanks for retrieving the government property. And for bringing Grail to justice. He promised the world would know your names. You both then looked to Bessie and Sarah, who were hugging, just glad it seemed to be over.

Lestrade was then ordered to arrest Sarah. You both stuck up for the woman.

“All she stole from you was the truth,” Enola argued. He argued it was personal information, which had the two of Sherlock’s guesses in, extortion, and blackmail. You just needed bribery.

You didn’t, deep down.

Sherlock then stepped in, this time being able to clear a name. He had failed earlier trying to clear yours and Enola’s. He wasn’t failing this time.

He put it all together, about the someone that was close to him who had pocket all the money. Someone who had been ignored for years. Playing them all. Like a game, as Enola had said. She tapped you twice on the arm, a question.

You’d heard the game before. You stamped your foot on the floor. You knew it too.

You both looked to the technical third Holmes who had travelled this journey with you, eyes widening.

The game was being played by Mira Troy.

William died because the contract would have cut off her money trail. So, she hired Grail to find the document, but it quickly got out of hand, and so she painted Lord McIntyre as the mastermind.

Her true name was then revealed: Moriarty.

Despite being caught, she smiled. She confessed to enjoying the game, even with the two of you. All she wanted was the agreements. She herself couldn’t question William, so she had you both do it for her.

She did admit that the deaths were so unnecessary. But that Grail was a ‘blunt instrument.’ Your scar on your cheek confirmed it.

In the end, it was just a woman trying to find her place in society, failing to do so, and then finding her own way. Much like you and Enola.

During the distraction of arresting Moriarty, McIntyre had taken to burning the documents. The evidence. What you had to crack this thing wide open, now only ashes.

The four of you – yourself, Enola, Sarah, and Bessie – sat outside, looking at the factory that had caused so much pain. Sarah thought it was over. Those lives would be worth nothing.

But Enola thought otherwise. You still had each other; you still had the truth.

That was enough. That was all you needed to make that difference.

Enola went to the factory one more time, as you set up in your new office, writing down all you could to get the story published and out there.

You were so busy writing that you almost didn’t notice Enola enter. She smiled, seeing you so focused and now doing your own thing to help the fight.

“May I see what you have so far?” she asked. You pause and leaned to the side of your typewriter and looked to her. This time, unlike her interaction with Bessie when you first met her, you got it right first time. You nodded, resetting the typewriter, and pulling out the latest page and giving her the manuscript.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” you said, stretching your arms. You had been in for a while, “do you want anything while I’m out?”

She looked up from your work, shaking her head, “no, thank you. I’m not sure if I shall be here when you return. Tewksbury is coming over, you see,” she smiled nervously at the thought of the boy.

You nod, smiling as well, “of course. Just, keep that safe, please?” is all you asked of her.

She nodded, face going to a firm expression, “I will. Be safe.”

“I will be,” you promised, before leaving the office and waving to Edith, who waved back.

You passed Sherlock, giving him a nod and ‘thank you’ as he held the door open for you.

You smiled, taking in the busy city. Sure, it was still a bit much at times. But it was home. That, and you weren’t alone anymore. You had people you could visit.

So, you took off, letting yourself get immersed once again, a different way to the route Enola would take…

#enola holmes x reader #enola holmes imagine #platonic enola holmes #enola holmes #enola holmes 2

194 notes · View notes

romanoffsbish · 3 years ago

Text

Misguided Connections

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Natasha x Reader x Yelena (Siblings)

TW: Death, Cheating, Violence | WC: 5,501

Renewed (Next Part)

Wanda Maximoff, the absolute love of your life, turns out you no longer were the focus of hers. From the moment Vision had been "born" you'd been fighting to keep the attention of your longtime lover. It was as if she'd been magnetically drawn to him, and you no longer had any pull on her. So, when you caught them locking lips that fateful night in June, you'd got all the confirmation you needed that it was over.

Silently, you'd moved all of your belongings back into your old room, and spent the next few weeks avoiding everyone. Wanda never really even noticed your absence, until one night she'd rolled over in bed to reach for you and she came up empty. She immediately sat up when she felt cold sheets, then once the sleep no longer clouded her vision she'd realized you and your belongings were gone.

All that was left of you was the frame of you two smiling like love sick teens on your second anniversary. She'd began to hyperventilate at the prospect of you leaving her, never once did it occur to her that you'd found out about Vision and hers sinful affairs. The last thing Wanda ever planned to do was hurt you, you were her everything for the better part of the last four years. She'd planned to marry you one day, and to have a never ending line of children with you, just to see how many variations of you she could have running around the house.

———

"Friday! Where's Y/N?" She questioned, still in a state of shock.

"It appears she's returned to her old room as of two weeks ago." The AI replies, almost condescendingly.

Had it really been that long?

Wanda's heart dropped, as her mind was now tormented with the idea that you'd obviously seen the kiss. It was honestly the first kiss the pair had shared, but she fears you'd believed it had been going on for longer, and she couldn't blame you.

She sprinted down the halls, desperate to get to you, but she stopped at the end of your hall when she'd seen you leaving your room. You'd had dried tear track on your face, with a plush blanket wrapped around your slumped shoulders and were carrying an ungodly amount of dirty dishes in your hands. You'd looked so broken as you approached the elevator, and Wanda's heart shattered as she clearly knew it was her fault.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your watching eyes?" You bitterly question the woman, and she cursed herself for forgetting your roots as a spy.

"Y/N I—."

"Do you love him?" You brokenly questioned her, and she was stunned into silence at your bluntness.

"I-I don't know what I feel for him Y/N, but God, I do know that I love you, so very much." She desperately pleads her case, as she takes a shaky step towards you.

"Please, don't! I know you love me Wanda, I do, but that doesn't mean anything anymore. You cheated on me, and didn't even notice I was gone until he's now left for a mission. I know now that my love wasn't enough, I'm not sure why I ever fooled myself into believing it would be. It's okay—truly, just please don't flaunt your budding new romance in my face, that's all I ask. I love you Wanda, I meant it when I said forever, I hope he makes you happy." You relay, not really giving her any room to reply, as the doors to the elevators shut in her face, and she instantly collapses in on herself in a fit of sobs.

"Maximoff, shut up, and get off my floor before I pummel that pretty little face of yours. I won't hesitate to rearrange it." Yelena growls out from two doors down, having now officially found out why you'd been so distant lately.

Wanda shakily gets to her feet, and heads towards the elevator, but opts for the stairs instead as Yelena continues speaking.

"I'd go before Natasha reads the message I just sent her, because she's even worse than me. I'm holding back for Y/N's sake, but she won't."

Wanda trudged her way back to your previously shared room, where she gets absolutely no sleep, as she cries herself into a state of dehydration. The only person to love her unconditionally, and she'd broken you.

Months had gone by in an absolute blur, as you threw yourself into a never ending cycle of missions that had you returning home beaten down. Natasha had begged you to take a break—you couldn't—if you did it gave you too much time to feel, and you didn't really want to.

After that night, Wanda had tried to talk to you, but your sisters wouldn't let her, then Vision returned and she clung to the only thing she felt she had left. It hurt to see how easily she'd given your life together up, but you didn't dwell on it, having always known deep down that it was coming.

—

Today, there's a big team mission, and you'd felt uneasy since the announcement a week ago. You'd successfully convinced Steve to make Wanda sit this one out, and he reluctantly agreed to it with a sympathetic smile.

"Natasha, are you ready?" You asked your sister who'd been working on collecting her weapons.

"Yes, are you?"

"Duh! Why would I be asking you if I wasn't?" You say, while spinning in her desk chair while she finishes up in the weapons room.

"Because you have a tendency to get distracted." She laughs out, while exiting, and you two make your way to say goodbye to an injured Yelena.

"Ya tebya lyublyu." You whisper, as you place a kiss to her forehead.

"I broke my foot, I'm not on my death bed.." She grumbles, but judging by the smile, you knew she appreciated the affection.

"Yeah, but we're going on a mission, so I love you's and kisses are permitted." You relay.

"Yeah, I'm not kissing you." Natasha laughs out, then pats her shoulder, and they hold eye contact for ten full seconds—their version of I love you.

"Ya tozhe lyublyu tebya sestrichka" Yelena shouts out after you from her bed

(I love you too little sister.)

Wanda had spent the day before the mission pacing her room, wanting to push matters with Steve, as she had this horrible feeling in her gut. He refuted all her claims, citing the simplicity of the mission, and how it didn't need her powers. He also used Yelena's broken foot as leverage, as she's the "best" person for taking care of someone, even if Yelena completely hates her guts...

The day of the mission she'd felt drawn to you, but you'd thankfully managed to avoid her, well, up until the absolute last second.

"Y/N!"

You internally groaned, but turned to face her nonetheless.

"Thank God... I-I wanted to apologize for everything but you've been so busy that I never had the chance."

"Wanda, I have a mission to go on, it's also a bit late for an apology." You sigh out in response.

"I've tried... But your sisters are—."

"Humans that you could easily overpower. If you wanted to fix things or apologize, you would've."

"Y/N, I still love you, even if you refuse to believe that, but I do."

"Wanda, I know, but you still chose the toaster, so thanks for your candor but this conversation is over. No matter what love is left between us, it gets us nowhere, it does nothing for my broken heart, so this is goodbye." You proclaim, a bit harsher than you'd initially intended, so you release a heavy sigh as she stared at you with the saddest eyes.

"Look, Wands, I only ever wanted you to be happy, and I see you've made it to that point." You sadly whisper, as you gently move some hair to behind her ears, and she chase your hand for comfort.

"Y/N, I-I miss—."

"I know darling, just not enough." You finish for her, then place a gentle kiss to her cheek.

She swiftly clings to you, and you reciprocate the hug for a few seconds, before you end up having to detach her from your body.

"Goodbye Wanda."

Wanda returned to her room feeling defeated, opting out on saying goodbye to anyone else— even Vis.. Your words felt far more final than she'd liked them to.

Had she really lost you?

She spent the rest of that morning in bed, but then decided to leave the compound to find some solace at the cat cafe you'd always taken her to whenever she'd been stressed.

—

"Oh my gosh! No freaking way!" Wanda squealed as she jumped into your embrace.

"Yes freaking way!" You shout back, matching her excitement, and revel in the feel of holding her in your arms.

"Coffee, tea, scones and cats, there's no better first date than this. I'm proclaiming it now!"

Wanda's eyes lit up at the many different cats all over the building, while you put in your guys order. Feeling insanely lucky having finally grasped the courage to ask Wanda out, and being blessed with her 'yes.'

"Y/N/N, baby come play with the babies!! Look, this is Liho, I feel like he'd be so good with Nat. He's just got this 'I don't give a fuck' attitude that Nat also has. Then this is Augustus, he only has one eye, ooh, and this is Lily—a calico pigmy cat."

You smiled at the pet name that slipped past her lips, then laughed at her ramblings, and lowered your body to the floor with hers, where you were graced with the most carefree smile you'd ever seen. Vowing right then that you'd do everything in your power to make sure it stays on her face.

—

As the quinjet landed, you were all shocked to find an empty field.

"Are we sure Fury gave us the right location?" Tony questions amusedly.

"The stone is —."

"Yes, Tony, this is the right spot." You answer, effectively cutting Vision off, and moving across the field to take up station behind some hay bales.

"Still so hostile..." Natasha chuckles out as she lowers down next to you.

"Would love to see how you'd feel if someone swooped in and took Maria from you." You groan, and her face immediately softens as she feels she'd possibly gone too far.

"I'm sorry.."

"Don't be, humors how we normally cope, I'm just a bit sensitive as she slightly cornered me into talking today."

Nat lowly growls at the notion, but before she could reply, a massive surge goes off in the field, and everyone is thrown back.

"Y/N?!" Natasha shouts, as she grips at her head to feel the blood trickling down her face.

"Focus up sestra! The fights only just begun!" You shout back aimlessly, as the dust around makes it hard to actually see her.

"Cap, status report?!"

"From what I can see, it appears to me that this group of aliens is actually here for my stone." Vision ominously says into the comms, and that all the confirmation you needed for the next steps you were going to take.

"Well, that just won't do, now will it?" Natasha grunts into the comms, as she fights off an onslaught of aliens.

"Vision!! Where are you?" Cap shouts into the comms, and I listen intently.

"In the sky, but I am out of my depth up here, so I'm returning to the gro—." He starts, but is cut off with a groan, so you make your way to him as you’d heard the thud nearby.

"Vision! You need to get out of here now!" Natasha yells into the comms, but it's just not that simple.

You slid across the dirt, slicing at the achilles of a line of aliens, as you roll into the direct line of Vision. You land on your knees in front of him, as he's still lying on the ground slightly disoriented. The creepy looking alien of your nightmares looks down on you as you lay your life on the line for the—girlfriend stealer—synthezoid.

"How pitiful, a feeble human is what stands between Thanos and the stone."

"I'm many things, but feeble? Now that's just rude." You whine in faux offense, as you tackle the alien away from Vision, and the two of you go tumbling.

"Miss Y/L/N?" Vision questions as he seemingly regains his whits.

"Vision! Go! Now! Take to the skies and get out! This is a matter of the fate of the world!"

You grunt out, as you fight to keep the alien down.

"Wanda won't be pleased, she loves you dearly, are you —."

I'd honestly be more concerned about Romanoff and Belova....

"Well, the fate of the world can't be doomed at the expense of one life Vision... She'll be okay."

You inform the synthezoid, and with that Vision reluctantly takes off, and you almost instantly find yourself gasping for air.

Your body hits the ground with an aggressive thud, as you release a gut wrenching screech.

Natasha's heart instantly drops into her stomach as she hears, finishing off her adversary with a pained grunt, she then immediately sprints off in the direction of your cries.

The blade on the staff had ridges in it, effectively hitting more, and causing far more damage than the average blade would've. You felt as it punctured your lungs, the staff had clearly traced over your uppermost abdomen—nicking your liver, and ended up delivering the most damage to your heart and lungs.

Your chest feels as if it's on fire, the unbearable sensation of pins and needles blossoms across the entirety of your body; your hands are instinctually clawing at your chest while you writhe on the ground in desperate need of oxygen.

"Shh.. Shh.. Stay still Y/N/N... Ju-ust breathe... Try to breathe." Natasha shakily commands as she drops to her knees and straddles your hips. She immediately throws her hands over your open wound, trying to staunch the ever flowing blood, but it was to no avail.

"Tash, I-I"

"Shh.. Save your breath.." She commands, while frantically surveying the field, desperate to get you back to the quinjet for help.

The alien's had disengaged at this point, as their target was no longer within their grasps. They also weren't stupid enough to wait around to face the wrath of all those there who'd loved you.

"No-o. Tash.. I love you, yo-u're go-oing to..."

You unwillingly pause as you break out into a fit of coughs, blood splatters all over, then trickles down your chin, and Natasha shakily wipes it off, as tears fall from her face.

"Don't! Don't say I'm going to be okay! If you don't come back with me then you're making me leave half of my heart behind.. No one's going to be okay..."

"...be ju-ust fine..." You finish, lazily smirking at your switch up.

"You asshole..." She tearily chuckles out, as tears rapidly fall off her face and onto yours.

"I'm so-orry Natty..""

"You knew?!" She questions in a gasp of realization, as she picks up on the guilt lacing your apology.

"It w-as des-tin-ed."

"Screw you and that stupid quack job fortune teller you dated. You're not dying! You're not allowed!" She seethes, applying firm pressure to your chest, which really only causes you to whimper.

"Let me go Natty..."

"No!" She shouts in defiance, and you stare up with the saddest of smiles, as you watch your sister's heart breaking.

Natasha knew you weren't going to make it, but that didn't deter her from willing it to be true. You weakly lifted your arm up to cup her cheek, crying tears of your own as she leans into your palm, desperately seeking out your comfort.

You're no longer in any pain, which you know is the opposite of good, so you smile up at your sister. Watching as a fresh wave of sadness passes through her eyes. As your body slowly drains of life, your hand slips from her face; she catches it and intertwines her fingers with yours and pulls it to her chest as her body wracks with uncontainable sobs.

"Natty... Do .. you remember when Lena said she wanted... a dog?"

She hums in response, thoroughly confused, shaking her head to acknowledge you, as she's completely unable to speak through her sobs.

"Check my room..." You laboredly breathe out, mustering up just enough strength for a final wink.

Natasha's expression further morphs into confusion, but she lets it go, as she leans down to lean her forehead against your own.

"Please don't go..." She chokes out over her sobs, as she's pleading a losing case.

"It's okay..." You try to comfort her.

"No, it's not.." She whimpers in response.

"Forgive her Natty.."

Your sudden statement throws her off, as she pulls back to give you a bewildered gaze, and you respond with a tired smile.

"I already did..." You brokenly whisper out as your body goes limp, and she watches as the last of your life drains from your eyes.

The team was scattered across the field, majority of which are now painfully aware of your state; frozen to their spots as they watched the desperate redheaded assassin attempt to stop the inevitable. Within an instant, the realization that they're going home without you hits them, and they all but fall to pieces.

Steve's the quickest to pull it together, knowing that if he doesn't your sacrifice could be for not. He gingerly approaches the ghastly scene, knowing fully that Natasha's going to be in a far away state.

"Natasha... We need to go, let me take her." He whispers carefully, and her eyes dart up to his in the deadliest of stares, as she clutches your form to hers in a last ditch effort to have you close.

Steve steps back to allow her this final moment, before he will inevitably have to rip her away from you. Tony is next to approach the scene, feeling gutted at the prospect of losing yet another 'kid' in a senseless war, one that he feels he's partially responsible for.

Tony cringes as he sees the scene up close, wondering just how someone of your stature could have harbored that much blood in your body. His eyes quickly land on your face, and his resolve almost crumbles as he sees your lifeless eyes staring up at him. The same eyes that used to light up at the simplest of things. He crouches down, trying not to crowd Natasha, as he places a grounding hand to her back. She stiffens, but finds herself grateful for his comfort, as she eyes his moves carefully. Tony cups your face in his big hand, gently stroking the hair out of your face; cascading his big hands downwards to close your eyes, then he leans forward to place a kiss to your temple.

"It shouldn't have been you kid.." He chokes out, then locks eyes with Natasha's glassed over ones, she silently nods his way.

She lowers your body, allowing Tony to scoop you into his suit clad arms, as he carries you to the jet, and places your body down onto the medical bed.

Steve tries to lift Natasha up, but she just loses it, and starts to hammer her fists into his chest. Screaming about how unfair all of this was, "it can't be real," she angrily repeats. He wraps his strong arms around her, as she tries to fight off the hold, but the comfort inspires her to crumble against him.

Clint brokenly wanders over having only just caught up to what's happening when he saw Tony walk by with your lifeless body. He cringes as he sees your blood stains in the field, then he scoops Natasha up and out of Steve's grasp. She immediately clings to her best friend, burying her face into his neck, as she continues to sob.

"I got you Tash..." He tiredly mumbles against the crown of her head, as he takes a seat besides your medical bed, taking your limp hand into the one that's not holding your sisters body up, and he just cries.

Wanda had returned from the cat cafe with lunch for her and the blonde assassin, who she found seated in the living area—against her bedrest orders.

"Lena, why are you out of bed?"

"Don't call me that, you lost that right the moment you broke my sisters heart." She growls at the Sokovian.

"I didn't mean to..." Wanda whispers out as she places the take out in front of her.

She sits on the recliner nearby, not really wanting to be alone with the unsettling feelings bubbling in her stomach.

"Why'd you do it?" Yelena suddenly questions, as she shovels her food into her mouth.

"You're asking as if I planned it." Wanda bitterly replies.

"Well you didn't exactly act like it was a mistake. You didn't even fight for her..."

"You guys wouldn't let me and she was always gone..." Wanda scoffs.

"Don't give me that shit Wanda, if you wanted to, you would've. I just don't get why you did this to her, that girl loves you with all she has, and you just broke her..."

"Look... I'm just as confused okay? I don't know why or how it all happened... It's just all so messed up. I love her Yelena, more than anything, but there's this strange pull to Vision. When he's gone, it's like the pull fades, and all I can do is think of Y/N. I miss her so badly, but she won't even spare me a glance most days, I couldn't even fix it if I wanted to..."

"Do you?"

"More than anything..."

"Try harder then." Yelena concludes, then before they can continue, there's a stunned Vision at the entrance of the living area.

Both women take in his stunned expression, then Wanda's eyes drift down to see barely dry splatters of blood on his body.

"Vision? Where's everyone else.?"

"Y/N stopped an alien from attacking me and told me to leave at once, they're still fighting, the mission was an apparent setup to commander my stone."

"You just left her?" Wanda angrily gasps, and Yelena stands up abruptly, and falls into Wanda's side as she misjudged the step on her cast.

"Darling, she said it was a matter of the end of the world, and the stone seemed to agree." Vision genuinely replies, as he mistakenly goes to seek out Wanda's affection.

"Wh-ho's blood is that?" Yelena shakily asks.

"I'm not entirely sure Miss Belova, everything was moving so fast..."

Wanda immediately pulls herself and Yelena backwards, and he stutters in his steps.

"Stay back!"

"Darling.."

"No! Don't call me that, just go—leave us alone!"

Vision's expression morphs into one of confusion, but he nods and heads towards his living quarters.

After a painstakingly long twenty minutes goes by, with Yelena curled in on herself on the couch, and Wanda pacing the living room, they hear Friday announce the teams arrival.

"Attention, Dr. Cho, please be on standby in the medical wing, the team is returning in five and many members are in need of medical assistance."

At the sound of the announcement Wanda helps Yelena up and sprints the both of them off to the loading bay. Wanda's chest hurts, and her breathing is labored as she awaits your arrival.

Once the doors open Yelena crumbles to the ground at the sight of Natasha in Clint's arms. Wanda follows her gaze to see Natasha's distant expression, and blood soaked hands. As she surveys the entirety of the team's expressions there's not a single person that doesn't look like they lost big time. She starts to panic when your face isn't amongst the ones descending the ramp.

"No..." She angrily commands, and the blonde below whimpers at the abruptness.

Steve's the last to exit, with a somber expression and hollowed gaze. He's dragging along the jet's medical bed, with a stilled body atop of it, loosely covered by a blanket. As soon as she sees the mark on your ankle, she crumbles to the floor beside the blonde assassin and wails out in agony.

Natasha whimpers in Clint's arms as she hears the sounds of her heartbroken sister, and even at the sound of the broken witch... It brings her back to her body, so Clint sets her down, and as he does she crouches in front of Yelena's face.

"Nu davay zhe." She whispers out in their mother tongue, with her hand extended, knowing Yelena only responds well to Russian when she's in a state like this.

(Come on)

She gently pulls Yelena to her feet, then she reluctantly extends her hand to Wanda as well.

"Here." She mumbles, as she gently pushes the crumpled up note to Wanda's chest that she found in her pocket.

She then leaves Wanda alone with her thoughts, as she carries the broken blonde to your room.

Wanda quietly enters her room, then sits down on her bed to read your letter, with shaky hands she opens it, as her continuous flow of tears hits the paper.

My Dearest Wanda,

I love you, and I'm so sorry for the hostility, but it's the only way I could do what had to be done...

I'd always wondered what my fortune teller ex girlfriends prophecy meant when she'd shown me "my destiny." At the time it was just me being stabbed in the name of destiny, but it was a sacrifice I made for someone I'd never actually known—now I know him as Vision.

She'd continued to tell me that my death had the potential to save the world, I always thought she was full of shit, but if you are getting this then I now know she wasn't.

Long story short, something big is coming, and my sacrifice is meant to stave off an onslaught of losses, so you guys need to destroy the stone before it's too late. The teams smart, I'm sure they'll figure it out...

I knew if you came on this mission, no matter the draw the stone had on you, you'd have gone out of your way to stop me and I couldn't let it happen...

I know now that you didn't want to cheat on me... I'm pretty certain it was never actually your choice. The stone was self preserving itself by interfering in our affairs, and fulfilling the prophecy it needed to for the greater good of mankind. I also know now though that you've grown to love him, and that makes me hopeful for you both. You deserve all the love the world has to offer you, and even though our dreams never became a reality, it doesn't mean you shouldn't seek them out with him.

He's a good synthesized man(?)

Just know that I wasn't afraid to die Wands, it's okay.

I love you... Forever. For Always. And a day...

P.S. I left you a better goodbye in my room..

Yours truly, Y/N Y/L/N <3

Wanda's nonstop flow of tears blurs her vision, and the sadness she's overcome with quickly becomes replaced with formidable rage.

The same stone that had forged her had destined you to a brutal death. Her love for Vision was forced upon her—not authentically built, and it just feels all the more sickening. It all makes sense to her now, for why she'd cheated, she simply had no choice. If given the choice, she'd always choose you—you were quite literally everything! Her heart somehow manages to break further knowing that she'll never have that chance again—to choose you. You'll never be there to cuddle up to her, or to kiss her good morning, or let her braid your hair when she's anxious, to hold her when everything feels like it's falling apart. You're gone, and her twisted connection to that stupid mind stone is what got you killed.

She eventually makes her way to your room, stumbling upon your sisters who were cuddled up with the beautiful creatures you'd left behind for them. Natasha was holding a sleeping Liho to her chest, while resting her cheek on his head, as she lazily stroked his back. Yelena was wearing your hoodie, while being curled into the fetal position on the floor with her head in Nat's lap. Her newfound bestie—Fanny, was curled into her side, sleeping just the same.

Natasha, respecting your wishes of forgiveness, gently nods to a crate besides her and Wanda's heart skips a beat at the sight. You'd adopted the calico pigmy cat—Lily—who's been her greatest love since the very beginning. The cat had always taken a liking to the two of you, and you'd vowed to adopt the ten your old feline once you both were prepared to move into your own space.

Now she's finally home... just without you...

Natasha gently lifted Yelena up, and she scurried out to give her the room for herself. Wanda surveyed your room, and saw that you'd left her your favorite hoodie behind. Then, she's noticed gifts and envelopes for specific people. Her eyes darted to the one that said "Vision." Curiosity got the better of her as she swiftly opened it, and as she pulled out a letter, a ring as well as a key fell out.

Vision,

We weren't friends, we were hardly teammates, but we do share a common interest—Wanda's happiness and safety.

I've made this sacrifice so that she could live a happy life, and I hope you'll be able to provide it to her. The stone, it needs to be removed, then destroyed—only she has the power to destroy it.

Now that that's over...

Now, listen up, she's got quite the green thumb, so gardening is essential for her happiness. She wants that cute suburban life, white picket fences, kids running around the yard, cats in the windowsills and dogs to walk around. She wants to deliver baked goods to the neighbors, and run the bake sales.

There's a key in here, the lot you see pictured here was perfect, so I'd started to build our her dream home. It recently finished being produced, and it's been furnished to her specifics. When all is said and done, take her here and give her the life that she deserves.

Make sure she feels loved, and appreciated for all her days to come. Remind her just how beautiful she truly is, and don't take a single moment with her for granted.

This ring, I had it custom made for her, but I never got to use it for it's intended purposes, I hope you will...

Thank you, Y/N Y/L/N

Wanda's eyes are once again full of tears, but this time the rage settles, and she's consumed by an overwhelming wave of regret, and sadness. She immediately slips the ring onto her finger, and places a kiss to the diamond.

"I would've said yes..." She whispers, knowing now that without the stone's influence, she would've married you in a heartbeat.

She slips the hoodie on, and places the key on her keychain. Then she collects Lily's crate and belongings, to return to her room. Once she arrives, she sees Vision and her rage is back.

"Wanda, darling, we're headed to Wakanda."

"No, Vision, you're headed to Wakanda." She flatly replies, as she takes Lily out for some much needed cuddles.

"But, I thought you'd want to be there for the extraction."

"No, I'll return to destroy the stone, that's it."

"Return? Darling, where are we going?"

"We?!" She scoffs.

"Vision, this love was never real, it was a twisted manipulation that cost me the greatest love of my life. You and I will soon be free of the wretched bond, and can both move on with our lives." She bitterly relays, as she stares blankly at the synthezoid before her.

"Wanda, I love you, and that's not the stone talking."

"Well, I love Y/N!! Now that she has fulfilled her cryptic destiny, I'm no longer drawn to you." She bitterly barks out, only partially meaning what she'd said.

It's true, she loves Y/N, but some part of her did grow to love Vision. She wouldn't allow herself that luxury of happiness, not when you had to give your life for her to access it...

Vision left quietly after her proclamation, and Wanda was grateful. She packed up everything she had, then snuck out with it all to her car in the early morning hours. She drove with a purpose, taking herself and Lily to the home you'd built for them.

Westview, here she comes…

————

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muddyorbsblr · 2 years ago

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the new sorcerer supreme pt2

Read Part 1 here See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @rmoonstoner

Summary: Loki explains how he survived and you explain why you were looking for the Sorcerer Supreme

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: mentions of Thanos; derogatory use of the word 'Whore'; talks of grieving; mention of The Snap

Your shields dropped the moment Loki's voice reverberated through the small room, the rune on your arm disappearing and indicating to you that the loan of powers had reached its conclusion. He stepped out of the shadows, the air leaving your lungs once his face came into view, his eyes so visibly filled with longing, shining with unshed tears.

"Brother?" you heard Thor croak from the door. It was only then that you realized you'd been walking further into the room for several steps, now standing a mere few feet away from the god you'd thought was gone for the last eight years. "How--?"

"It takes more than a strong grip to end me, Brother," he said with a somber smile. "Though I must admit it took longer than expected to heal from my injuries on that ship. I first needed to get my body to a place where once I'd healed it, I would be able to breathe, considering that the vessel we were on exploded and I was no better than space debris--"

"Hold on," you spoke up, holding your hand up in the air like a child in class.

This caused Loki to let out a rough chuckle, sounding as if he didn't even know how to utter the sound anymore, holding your hand in his and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. "Yes, darling?"

The seamlessness with which he performed that gesture almost felt like a balm to your shattered heart, giving you a touch of comfort despite the knowledge that there were still most definitely threats coming your way to try destroying you for participating in the slaughter of Thanos three years ago. Almost as if what ever would happen, it no longer mattered. He was here. He was alive.

"I--You said 'get your body somewhere'. You're talking as if you--Holy shit." You watched with slacked jaw as another image of Loki departed from his body, visible to the naked eye but…translucent. You could quite literally see through him. You dropped his hand in alarm, turning to Thor. "Doesn't Strange do something like this?" The blond Asgardian could only look with wide eyes as he nodded his confirmation.

"This is how I survived," Loki explained. "I was able to depart my physical form and heal it, but it took time. Longer than I hoped it would."

"Seven years," you thought aloud, thinking about your conversation with Stephen and Wong before you set out for New Asgard. "Stephen said that he was Sorcerer Supreme until last year, and then he felt his augmented powers waning, and he knew that someone else held the title. That he sensed that energy here now, in New Asgard." You looked into the eyes of the translucent Loki. "Your energy," you prompted, seeing if he would confirm your suspicions.

The projection of the raven-haired god nodded at you. "Mine. I spent years healing my body to get myself to a state where my soul could reunite with my body without running the risk of having the two consolidate with one another incorrectly."

You thought back to outside the room. The peculiar presence that was communicating with you before the door opened. "Was that you? Outside?" You pointed toward the living room area as you asked him.

The projection of him smiled at you, nodding again. "Couldn't help myself, darling. I'd been spending the last year honing my newfound powers, making sure that I would be strong enough to keep you safe from any threats that might find their way to you. And instead you found your way to me. I had to hold you, even if it was just in this form."

"Well maybe you could come back to your body and you can hold me for real, Mischief," you choked out, your heart stuck in your throat once again as you watched the projection reunite with his body.

Tears welled up in your eyes as he closed the distance between you, finally wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. You felt your feet leave the ground as he swayed you slightly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've missed you, my love," he whispered in your ear.

When you caught sight of the tear-stricken god behind him, you whispered back, "I've missed you, too. More than you know. And I know that you're not one for showing affection toward your family but maybe this time you'll make an exception? Because I'm pretty sure your brother missed you almost as much as I did."

He set you down on your feet, tucking his fingers under your chin before placing a soft kiss on your lips that made your heart feel like a few more pieces had set themselves back into place. "I'll be with you again in a few moments, darling." He walked toward his brother and the tears began to roll down your face as you watched them pull each other into a brotherly hug, the formerly desolate blond visibly refusing to let Loki go. "I've missed you, too, Brother."

"I will leave you and Lady Y/N to discuss her matters," the god of thunder said, sniffling. "Perhaps once that is concluded we can all catch up in the evening?"

You could practically hear Loki smiling as he said, "I would like that, Brother. We will see you in the evening."

"I will see you both in the evening. Brother." Thor relinquished his brother from his hold and shifted his gaze to address you. "Sister."

"Thor," you answered, nodding his way as he walked out of the house.

Once the front door closed, Loki turned to look at you with an amused look on his face. "Sister?"

You reached into your shirt and pulled out the chain around your neck, holding an emerald engagement ring, knowing it would explain why Thor had just called you what he did.

"He swore to keep his mouth shut," he commented, shaking his head, the smile remaining on his face.

"Well to be fair, he did for a while," you retorted. "Honestly I think he did it as a last ditch attempt to convince me to help."

He made his way over to you, taking your hands in his as he led you to the couch in the living room, guiding you as you settled yourselves across the seat, your back nestled snugly against his chest, his chin lightly resting atop your head. "What have I missed, darling?"

"We can start with Wakanda," you began. "I didn't see when Thor arrived at the battle, I was outnumbered taking on a fleet of Thanos' foot soldiers. I didn't see him until he was already in the thick of the battle, and I just assumed that…you were with him. That I just hadn't seen you yet, and that you hadn't found me, either." Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you recalled what happened afterward. "I watched my friends turn into dust," you choked out.

You let out a slow exhale as he held you tighter, wrapping an arm around you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm so sorry, my darling. Seeing that must have been terrifying--"

"The only thing running through my mind at the time was that…I had to find you," you spoke through your tears. "I thought you were there, somewhere in the battlefield. I called out your name but nobody answered, and I thought--"

"That I'd turned to dust as well," he finished, sounding as if the air had left his lungs, too.

"And then I found Thor. Turns out it was much worse than you turning to dust." The tears rolled down your cheeks in hot streaks of anguish as you struggled to continue. "He told me what happened on the ship. And I didn't talk to anyone for days. Until we had the opportunity to kill Thanos, and instead of taking the bus along with the rest of the team, I found myself taking a shortcut so I could torture the bastard myself."

He froze behind you. "Y/N, my love, what do you mean?"

"It was a really lousy way to find out I could wield Thor's weapons," you said with a scoff. "I accidentally summoned Stormbreaker. And the Bifrost. Next thing I knew I was in the son of a bitch's garden, and I went at him with every ounce of fury I had. I wanted him know my pain when he ripped you from me. There was nothing in this world at that moment that could have brought me more peace than watching the light leave his eyes." The feel of him pressing more kisses to the back of your head helped to ground you to the present moment, keeping you from getting caught in the current of your tragic memories. "Of course, I wasn't strong enough to deliver the final blow. That was all Thor."

"He killed the mad brute? My brother?" The pride was audible in Loki's tone, letting out a deep chuckle as you nodded your confirmation.

"After that neither of us spoke to anyone, even to each other, for years." You shifted in his arms to look up at his face. "Did you know he got fat?" His chuckled reaction brought you out of your darker mood. "Shocked me too when he knocked on my door after five years, adding himself to the list of friends who tried to get me to help them reversing Thanos' snap."

"You refused them?" You could hear how taken aback he was at your words, the confusion made even more evident by the furrowing his brows. Understandable. These people were your friends; he was around at a time when you would have done just about anything for these people, so it wouldn't make sense to him why you would refuse to aid them in something so monumental.

"I didn't see the point," you answered him plainly. "If I helped them, and we were successful, everyone who got dusted would come back. What good would that do for me?"

Tears welled up in his eyes at your words. "Oh, my darling mortal…" He leaned in to press his lips to yours in a soft kiss. "I'm sorry that my absence from your life had hardened you so. If I'd known--"

"Don't do that," you cut him off, placing your hand on the side of his face. "Don't blame yourself for how I mourned. This wasn't your fault." He placed his hand over yours, keeping it in place as he pressed his lips to your palm. "Anyway, after multiple attempts from the team, Thor showed up, banging on my door, looking like he'd seen better days. Told me that if I wasn't going to help our team bring our friends back, then I could at least have the chance to kill the murderer of the man who would have been my fiancé. Had he actually made it back to Midgard."

As the tears began to fall down your cheeks once more, Loki wrapped his arms around you again, holding you as if you would fade away if he didn't. Or as if he would.

You stayed like that for a while, calming yourselves, mostly you trying to adjust to your new reality, that your love was here. By some kindness of the cosmos or the fates or whoever it was, he'd returned to you. When you felt you weren't about to burst into tears anymore, you spoke again. "He gave me the ring, told me that before Asgard burst into a billion pieces because you two decided to invoke Ragnarok to stop your certifiable sister, you found time to take this from your mother's dresser. That you intended to propose when you got back. Then he told me to do with that information what I please. So I chose to wear the ring."

He ran his finger across the chain around your neck, a somber smile coloring his features. "This is not the end of the story, is it, darling?"

You chuckled darkly at his question. "We haven't even gotten to the part that brought me here, but we're close." You shifted your position so you could rest your head on his shoulder, allowing him to hold you even closer to him. "I'll skip the fight with past Thanos and his army, except for two details. First, I teamed up with Wanda and we were able to bring that bitch to his knees," you told him with the most lighthearted chuckle you could manage.

"I wish I could have seen it, my love." You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. "And the second?"

"His followers…they call me something. And that's how I know that…I'm in trouble."

He cupped your face, coaxing you to look up into his eyes which were rife with panic and concern. "Y/N…my darling…What brought you here?" There was a waver to his voice, as if he was afraid of what the answer might be. Of how much trouble you were talking.

"Loki, I didn't come to New Asgard because I was looking for you," you explained. You took a breath, trying to find words that would make sense…because at the moment they didn't even make sense to you anymore. "I came here looking for the Sorcerer Supreme. At the end of the battle with Thanos three years ago, a woman named Carol Danvers gave me a device; she told me it could spray out a signal to every known receiver in the galaxy. That same day I sent out a signal. Come back to me."

"Y/N," he breathed, a broken sob escaping him. "My darling. That was you?" You simply nodded, not trusting yourself to form words as the relief flooded you that the message had at least reached him. "I hadn't fully healed yet. I saw it in passing from receivers that had passed me by, thought I was going mad and my mind had merely conjured up images, an oasis. To help me retain my sanity, to remind me what I was striving to come home to." He touched his forehead to yours. "Never did I even consider the possibility that perhaps you were trying to guide me home."

"I was," you said in a rush. "I couldn't believe you were gone. I kept telling myself you were out there, trying to find a way back, so I sent that as a way to point you in the right direction--"

He cut off your words by capturing your lips with his in a desperate kiss, as if he could no longer keep his composure. Which was just fine with you, for you couldn't, either. You tucked your legs under you, leveraging yourself to shift your position so that you were fully facing him now, sitting on your knees in between his legs. "Oh, my precious little mortal," he mumbled against your lips, wrapping his hands around the backs of your thighs. "I thought I'd made it clear long ago. You never kneel to me." You let out a squeak as he lifted you and shifted your positions so that you were straddling his lap instead, the sound quickly morphing into a strangled whimper as he pulled you flush against his body. "Much better," he rasped as he started to place kisses along the column of your neck. "Now. Now I am truly home."

You allowed yourself to get lost in his attentions, nearly convincing yourself that now you two were reunited, the threat was no longer significant. That the only thing that mattered was that once again your body knew what it felt to have his lips on your skin, his hands freely roaming your body as he pulled you closer still. When his hands found their way under your shirt, fingers feeling along your ribcage and abdomen and tracing a familiar path over you with a touch you hadn't known for the better part of the last decade, you let out a sharp cry, finally feeling that sense of home as well as you were at the mercy of his touch.

"For so long I thought I would never have this again," he breathed against your skin as he pushed up the fabric of your shirt, placing several kisses onto your stomach. "But we need to resolve the matter which brought you here to begin with." He placed one final kiss on your skin before bringing his gaze back up to meet yours. "This device…"

"It received a response today," you finished for him. "I thought it was you, I was--hoping it was you. But then…" you trailed off, reaching into your pocket to take it out and show it to him. Pure murderous intent colored his features as he read the message written.

"Who?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Thanos' soldiers. His children. When I fought them three years ago, that's what they hissed at me before they died. The more talkative ones called me the 'Whore of Jotunheim's King'." His jaw clenched at the words. "The signal may have only been meant for you, Loki. But I was stupid. I gave them a way to find me and now they're coming."

"No," he growled. He tucked the device into his tunic and eased you off his lap, placing a soft kiss on your lips as he stood up off the couch. "I'll be back in a few minutes, darling."

"Wait what? Loki--!" You couldn't even finish your sentence before he disappeared in a flash of green, leaving you in the house alone. You decided to wait a few minutes before panicking, since he did tell you that he would be back by then, taking the time instead to return to the study, inspecting what little touches of life have been added to the space.

It was mostly filled with books. Tomes that looked similar to the ones that Strange and Wong carried around with them sometimes, the ones that were shelved in the sanctums. Then there were the journals lining another shelf, no doubt housing Loki's spells that he'd learned over the centuries, along with the recipes for various potions, some of which had aided you in healing from various injuries.

The only semblance of a personal touch, of sentiment, came in the form of a picture frame sitting on a small table next to the arm chair in the corner, facing the seat rather than displayed for the visitors of the room. When you took a seat to view the frame, tears blurred your vision once again as you saw that it housed a picture of you and Loki. One of those that came up first from a quick Google search, of you two simply standing next to one another at one of Stark's galas, so it was nothing quite like the more intimate photos housed in your phone. The ones you hadn't looked at in years because missing him hurt you too much to be able to barely function.

What got the tears falling, however, was the carving on the frame. It was clear that he'd done it himself, most likely with one of his daggers, making your heart ache even more. Hjem, the carving said. Home.

The sound of his voice calling out for you snapped you out of your trance, bring you to your feet and back into the living room in a few short moments. The air left your lungs when you caught sight of him, chest heaving, hair disheveled, and blood splattered on his face.

"It's not mine, dear heart. Do not worry. And those children of Thanos will no longer be an issue to you. I've taken care of it."

"You mean you—"

"Killed them, yes." He walked towards you, framing your face delicately with his hands, tucking your hair behind your ear. "You're safe, darling."

"Thank you," you breathed out, relief flooding your system as you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into an embrace. "Any chance these shiny new powers could put an end to the signal I sent out?" you asked with a chuckle.

"I can try," he mumbled, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "But if any more come I will take care of it, too." You felt his lips against your temple as he said, "I will keep you safe, my darling Y/N, I swear to you." He pulled away to look into your eyes, tucking his fingers under your chin. "Forever."

"Forever," you breathed, repeating the sentiment as he lifted you into his arms, the shadows around the house melting away to reveal the space in all its glory, finally beginning to resemble a home. "What—?"

"I'd been preparing the house for the day I was finally strong enough, powerful enough, that I knew I could protect you against what ever threat may come your way. Then I would have found you, and if you still wanted to be with me—"

"I do," you cut him off. "I love you, Loki. Only you." He flashed you a brilliant grin as he walked you both toward the staircase, placing several kisses on the apple of your cheek, smiling against your skin as he did so. "I want to be with you," you breathed out, contentment washing over you as he took a moment to press you against the wall, capturing your lips in a languid kiss.

"In that case, welcome home, my love." You felt your heart fluttering in your chest as he pulled back, his eyes roaming over your form rife with lascivious intent. "Now, my darling mortal, I shall be ridding myself of the remnants of that--scuffle. Against the imbeciles who dared threaten my beloved." He traced a line of kisses from the base of your throat to your ear before whispering, "Would you care to join me?"

You were barely able to utter your Yes before he resumed his course up the stairs, off to the shower.

A/N: The first of the requests is officially finished! Only 30+ more to go bahahahaha Again I'm super thankful to everyone who sent in a request and I hope that y'all will like what I make of them. We all know by now I'm incapable of making short stories ("drabbles" become an entire story universe lol), so this will take some time, but I promise you that each and every single one of those requests have already been planned out and will be written as fast as my brain can manage.

Everything taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @creationsbyme @coldnique

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #muddyorbs writes #fic requests

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maraudersmap123 · 3 years ago

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My Fic Recs

Hey guys, so after many many years of having this account and posting on it, I have decided that im finally going to post my fic recs. I've been writing fics myself for around 3 years now, and I have been reading fics for much longer. so it's fair to say I have compiled quite the list. I love all of these pieces so much, and I think the authors are just amazing. So I hope you all enjoy these are much as I do. I might even start posting these more often, monthly maybe if I have enough because I think it's a great way to bring recognition to great writers on this platform.

Some of the summaries are by me and some are just copied and pasted from the post.

Firstly I'd like to recommend my favourite author for harry potter fanfic, who inspired me to start writing in the first place. This is the only rec I have from Wattpad so I thought I would do it first. They also write for almost everyone, so it doesn't really fit in with the rest.

Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. 1) - @everlovingdeer

SIRIUS BLACK

Study Buddy by @unfortunatelysirius - "You’re Sirius’s History of Magic tutor, but it occurs to you that maybe he doesn’t need the extra help."

They're Just Girls by @hermioneshandbag - A Sirius version of the Jily love story.

Smile by @midnighttmarauder - Sirius gets a letter from home and the reader comforts him.

Babe, you're a habit by @jamcspotters - Muggle au. “The number one rule of friends with benefits is no feelings involved, and, you think you just broke it.”

Don't You Mind by @hermioneshandbag - Friends to lovers but they both think it's unrequited.

The Five Times Sirius Felt Time Stop by @wizardwritings - "Sirius Black could only recall five times in his life when he felt as if time stopped. All those times just happened to revolve around you."

Wasn't Expecting That by @spideyxxboi - "You and Sirius have a secret relationship and don’t know how to tell the other boys until they accidentally walk in on something they weren’t expecting."

About what I said last night by @rainandhotchocolate - Sirius and his girlfriend get into a fight before she leaves for a mission where she is injured.

potter. by @mellifluousmalfoy - Soulmate AU and friends to lovers in one.

How to Fall in Love: For Dummies by @wizardwritings - "Modern AU. you and Sirius have been best friends for years now, but after six months of living with him, you realize that maybe you liked him as more than a friend. The plan? To make him realize the same thing in just three, foolproof steps."

the feeling that we're meeting by @writesowhatnext - "Sirius Black has never liked the reader and this he made known. Maybe it’s because she’s a Slytherin. Maybe it was the bat-bogey hex. Strange, though, how things change with a war in full throttle."

The risk of love by @with-love-anu - "Sirius had been your bestfriend since forever. Things change when he runs away from home"

Baby Fever by @vampirestookmydoubts - Sirius and the reader disagree on having a child.

The way you look at her by @theweasleysredhair - Maybe there really is a fine line between hate and love.

Style by @userinejghafa - you’re the only one for sirius black and the thought overwhelms him.

REMUS LUPIN

Cold Cold Cold by @pronqzz - Essentially where Remus and the reader have some relationship problems.

Happily Ever After by @sleekeazyz - Pretty much post-war fluff with a hint of angst.

This isn't how it ends by @lilysevans-archive - The beginning of the relationship between the reader and Remus with a bump in the road. A headcanon.

Drunk by @futurewriter2000 - Remus puts his drunk girlfriend to bed.

White Lies by @jamcspotters - “I’m sick of you lying to me, Remus. Aren’t we best friends?” with those words, you turned around, walking out of his dorm with heavy steps and an even heavier heart.

Full Moon by @theweasleysredhair - After a particularly bad full moon, Y/n decides it’s time to admit that she knows all about Remus’ little secret, especially since she’s known for years.

Reasons by @drxcodormixns - “I said you couldn’t fall in love with me, but I didn’t say I couldn’t fall in love with you.”

Selfish 1/2 2/2 by @aspiringauthorintraining - best friends realise and eventually confess that they in fact love one another.

Only Love by @imaginesfrommetoyou - Remus and the reader have a secret relationship.

My Heart by @swellwriting - James' sister confesses her feelings for Remus in the infirmary

JAMES POTTER

Promises by @jamcspotters - “After days of hiding from your best friend, forced proximity may just be what it takes for secrets to be revealed.”

Why? by @futurewriter2000 - Jily but with the reader not lily.

Players Cigarette Mate by @amarauder - "in which a girl's bad habit turns into a good one."

The Girl Next Door And The Five Times She Stopped Time by @wreckofawriter - "James slowly begins to fall in love with the girl next door'

misconceptions by @siriusmuch - "james has been telling the marauders all about just how amazing you are. one day, you overhear and get the wrong message from the conversation."

After Quidditch by @intoanothermind - "I was almost too late and almost lost the best thing that happened to me in my life because I was too stubborn"

Always have by @awritingtree - "James and Y/N have always been two peas in a pod, never straying far from the other. Even through James’ endless pining and ramblings about his ‘Lilyflower’, Y/N never left his side. But what happens when Lily’s rejections go too far one day? And what happens when Y/N realizes she’s starting developing feelings for her best friend?"

DRACO MALFOY

The Relationship Formula by @wizardwritings - An arranged marriage between two purebloods.

Play Pretend by @wondernimbus - "in which two people are forced into marriage; reader falls in love. draco doesn’t."

THEODORE NOTT

Stoic Manners and Shy Smiles by @imintofictionalmen - Theo and reader catch feelings for one another but Theo isn't to good at communication.

Did I Mention by @kayesfictioncharactershusbands - "You didn't know when it started, or how it started. You just hate Theodore Nott. And same goes for him. But what if did I mention he also likes you? But one certain word made you slapped Theo because he was jealous. That you didn't know of."

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lopsided-whiskey-grin · 2 years ago

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hi i just read your ghost/soap flashbang fic and I LOVED IT thanks for sharing!! you said we could suggest things and i'd love to see it written by you: a fic set at the first time soap saw ghost shirtless, and lost his SHIT about ghost's pecs. he goes bonkers about them honkers, yk?

Anon, I wanna personally thank you for this prompt bc my mind went wild with the possibilities lmao plus picturing Soap going absolutely feral for Ghost's knockers blessed my entire life. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! ( ˘³˘)♡

***************************

"On your feet, MacTavish. We're going to the gym."

Soap paused the game he'd been playing and pulled up one side of his headphones. He looked over at Ghost standing beside the couch. "You what?"

Ghost was zipping up a black hoodie over a black Under Armour shirt stretched across his broad chest. He was wearing dark gray sweats and a worn-in pair of trainers, all-in-all looking quite delicious. Soap swallowed hard.

"I said I'm getting you out of this fucking house, Johnny. You've been holed up in 'ere for weeks." He put on his skull jaw face mask that covered his nose and chin.

Soap sat back against the couch. He turned his attention to the TV. "Nah, I'm good."

After Chicago, he and Ghost had gotten a flat in London and were laying low, waiting until Laswell instructed them on their next move against Makarov. Dealing with Las Almas and Hassan had left him exhausted, mentally and physically and he told himself he only needed a break for just a few days to recuperate. But then a few days had turned into longer than that, with Soap barely ever leaving the apartment for the last two and a half weeks. He couldn't seem to get out of the rut he found himself in.

Ghost shook his head. "I wasn't asking," he said.

He grabbed Soap up off the couch none too gently and all but shoved him toward his bedroom, completely ignoring the string of Scottish curses Soap lobbed at him along the way.

"You have five minutes to get dressed, Sergeant or I'm throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you there in whatever you've got on right now."

Soap turned at the threshold of his door, hand on the doorknob. "Is that a promise L.t?" he asked with a cheeky grin tugging up the side of his mouth.

Ghost growled and started toward him, one hand balled in a fist. Soap laughed and shut the door.

He made it back out of the room by Ghost's five minute deadline, dressed in his workout clothes, but still not happy about being forced out of the house. He voiced as much to Ghost their entire ten minute walk to the gym. Ghost only sighed.

For as much griping as he did though, once he was actually at the gym he actually kind of enjoyed himself. He logged three miles on the treadmill, did a few 100 kilo deadlift reps, and spent some time with the battle rope. It felt good to be working his body, to be working up a sweat.

He caught Ghost's eye a couple times as they moved around each other to the different machines and each time felt his heart rate speed up. He knew it had nothing to do with the exercises. Spending the last two weeks in that small flat with Ghost in such close quarters was almost agonizing, seeing but not touching — not knowing if Ghost wished he could touch him too.

After about an hour and a half, drenched in perspiration and a little sore but in a good way, he started making his way to the locker room, looking forward to a hot shower to soothe his muscles. He was halfway across the room when Ghost called his name.

"Johnny, come spot me. I'm almost done."

Soap wandered over to where Ghost was laying back on the weight bench, his hands already on the bar over his head. Soap dutifully braced his legs apart and held his hands at the ready even though Ghost lifted the weights easily. He let his eyes roam over Ghost's body as he went through his reps, hungrily drinking in the sight of Ghost's massively broad chest flexing with each pump. He felt his cock jump in his gym shorts and quickly looked down to Ghost's face to see if he had noticed.

Ghost was staring straight up at him. Of course he fucking was.

Two bright spots of red bloomed on his cheeks and he swiftly looked away. "That's four," he said. His voice was a little hoarse and he coughed to cover it up.

Ghost racked the weights with Soap's help and he sat up, shaking his hands out. "Thanks, mate."

"Anytime," Soap replied with a half-hearted smile. Without waiting for Ghost to say anything else, he made a bee-line toward the locker room, grabbing a bottle of water from the vending machine in the hall on his way.

Soap cracked open the bottle and drank down half of it before he even sat on the bench next to his locker. Shit. Even after everything they'd been through in Mexico and Chicago, Soap still had a hard time showing Ghost how he felt about him — an impossible time, in fact. Fucking Christ, why was it so difficult to just say "Hey Ghost, I think you're hot as hell and I'd love to fuck your brains out one of these lovely afternoons if you're not too busy."?

Soap snorted out a soft laugh and took another pull of water. Yeah, that'd go over swimmingly.

The locker room door opening shook him from his thoughts and he looked over in time to see Ghost stalking into the room. His presence was so commanding that Soap couldn't help but stare.

Ghost went to his locker that was directly across from where Soap sat, turning his back to him to dig inside it. "Thanks for coming with me today, Johnny."

Soap shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but failing miserably. "I didn't really have a choice, did I?"

Ghost chuckled. "I think it was good for you," he replied gruffly, still not facing Soap. He unzipped his hoodie and tossed it in his duffle bag. Then pulled his t-shirt off.

Soap's gaze roamed over the large swatch of the bare skin of Ghost's back; it was the first time he'd seen him without a shirt on. Scars marred the flesh, some old and faded, others obtained more recently, but all of them utterly fascinating. And there was a small tattoo on his left shoulder, he noticed. Soap couldn't quite make it out. He squinted, trying to bring it into better focus.

But before he could try to read it, Ghost turned around to face him. Soap was in the middle of taking a sip of water when his brain short-circuited completely. He sputtered and choked while Ghost looked on with his shirt held loosely in his hands.

Soap's eyes were wide as fucking saucers as he took in the sight before him. It wasn't just Ghost's broad-as-a-barrel chest that floored him. It was his. Fucking. Pecs. They were massive. How he hid them under his shirt everyday without ripping it from seam to seam was a mystery to Soap.

They looked so fucking lusciously squeezable. But firm at the same time, somehow? Ghost's nipples were dusky pink and hardened into little pebbles from the cool air of the room. And it all made Soap's jaw drop — quite unattractively in all honesty.

Closing his gaping mouth with a click, Soap slowly set his water bottle at his side with a shaky hand. He rose on unsteady legs and walked around the bench between them, entranced.

"Ghost, I — I uh, what the…" The words fell off without Soap even registering that he'd quit talking.

He stopped before Ghost, unable to look him in the eyes. A kink Soap didn't even know he even fucking had was drawing all of his available attention straight to Ghost's chest. He needed to touch, needed to feel, needed to bury his face right fucking there.

He reached a trembling hand up, then hesitated with his fingertips hovering just above Ghost's skin. Ghost's dark gaze followed his movements closely, his eyes wide. It sounded like Ghost himself was out of breath but Soap wasn't sure — his brain was going fucking haywire and he couldn't concentrate.

Looking up at Ghost, he rasped, "Can I?"

Ghost seemed surprised by the question, but nodded. Soap released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He brought both hands up, laying his palms flat on Ghost's massive pecs.

"Sweet screaming Jesus," he whispered reverently, kneading the muscles.

Ghost groaned and Soap's cock throbbed in response. He bent forward and took one of those perfect nipples into his mouth. The taste of sweat and the promise of a long night of fucking bloomed across his tongue. Ghost jerked at the contact.

"Fuck, Johnny. If I had known you'd be so turned on by my tits, I'd have taken my shirt off in front of you weeks ago."

Soap drew Ghost's nipple between his teeth, biting down gently. Ghost hissed and grabbed onto Soap's hips. "If I had known you were hiding these fucking knockers under your clothes this whole time, I'd have ripped your shirt off myself," he murmured around Ghost's nipple still in his mouth, "Bloody hell, Ghost."

A chuckle rumbled through Ghost's chest.

"You realize I'm not going let you wear a stitch of clothing around the flat now, right?" He punctuated the words with rough squeezes of his hands.

"That so?" Ghost rasped behind his mask, sounding amused.

Before Soap could reply or say anything further, though, the locker room door opened. Soap backed off immediately, but Ghost held him in place with his hands still on Soap's hips.

The man who had interrupted them backed out the door slowly under Ghost's intense glare. When they were alone again, Soap massaged Ghost's chest once more. He canted his head up to meet Ghost's gaze.

"Shall we continue this conversation back at home, Johnny?" Ghost asked. He tugged Soap's hips forward until they were flush against each other.

Soap was pretty sure Ghost already knew the answer to that. "Oh, hell yes."

#ghostsoap #ghost x soap #soapghost #cod #mw2 #prompt fill #fanfic #one shot #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish

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procrastinatorimagines · 2 years ago

Text

Buy You Dinner?

Fandom: SVU

Series: One Shot (maybe...)

Pairing/s: Carisi x Reader

Warning/s: reference to a rape and murder case

Word Count: 1,083

Summary: Carisi finally gets the nerve to ask you to dinner after a difficult case ends in tragedy.

It had been a long day. You'd been on your feet since before 9 and all you wanted to do was get out of the office and get some food.

You were on your way out when you noticed Carisi catch up to you. "Y/N," he called, causing you to turn.

"Hey Carisi," you smiled. Although you were tired, you always had time for him. You'd been fast friends since he joined SVU, what, six years ago? Had it really been that long?

Late nights working cases and talking about anything and everything had brought you close, but not as close as you'd have liked. Still, he never hinted he wanted to be anything more than friends, so you'd never said anything, what good would that have done?

"You heading home?" He asked, hands in pockets. He almost looked, nervous.

"Yeah I was," you told him. Was he about to ask you to stay and give him a hand with a case? You hoped not, but you would if you were needed.

"You doing anything?" He continued. God you so didn't want to remain in these walls for another minute longer, but you couldn't lie.

"Not really, just going to get some food," you answered honestly.

"Me too," he said. Okay, so not about staying for work, then what... "do you, I don't know, maybe want to grab dinner with me? You don't have to I just-"

"I'd like that," you answered, quicker than you'd meant to, it just kind of came out as soon as you realised what Carisi was asking.

"You would?" He blinked, looking a little shocked but pleased by your speedy reply.

You nodded and smiled, not wanting your mouth to betray your eagerness anymore, hoping to come off as more casual than you just had.

"Great, er, let me just grab my jacket," he pointed back to the bull pen and his desk and you agreed, watching him walk back.

Had Carisi just asked you on a date? It sounded like it, but after six years you didn't want to jump to conclusions, he might just want to grab dinner as friends. Still, why would he have been nervous about that?

He returned quickly, slipping his jacket on as he headed back over to you. "There's this new mediterranean place down the street, that's your favourite right?"

"Yeah it is, I've been meaning to check that out," you told him with a smile, pleased he remembered.

"Shall we?" He checked.

"Sounds perfect," you replied, leaning more towards the fact that this was a date. That place was nice, and definitely not somewhere you two had ever been together in the past, not when it was just the two of you.

The walk was peaceful, and you casually chatted about each other's days to relieve some of the tension and awkwardness. You'd been friends for so long you realised he was also worried about this date going well.

You got to the restaurant and we mercifully seated immediately. Sonny pulled out your chair to sit and then seated himself, ever the gentleman.

"Drink?" He passed you the drinks menu, noticing the impressive selection of wines.

"I wouldn't even know where to start," you admitted and he laughed, "why don't you make a recommendation?"

He grinned, ordering a bottle of red that you'd never even heard of as the waiter came to take your drinks order.

"Trust me," he told you with a wink when you looked like you were about to ask about his choice. You stopped yourself, you did trust him.

He shared out the food menus and you sat for a minute in silence looking at the options. Well, he might have been, you couldn't really focus on the words, instead glancing up at Sonny when he wasn't looking, not realising he was doing the same with you.

"Can ask you something?" You said at last, chewing over the thought in your head as you watched him.

"Huh? Yeah, of course," he put the menu down, giving you his undivided attention and your stomach couldn't help but flutter.

"What took you so long?" You asked, smiling and placing your own menu down.

"To ask you out?" He checked.

"Yes C- Sonny, to ask me out," you laughed, nearly slipping into your usual habit of calling him Carisi. You couldn't quite pinpoint the emotion that flashed across his face when you called him Sonny, but you could tell he didn't mind.

"Honestly? I didn't know you were interested," he admitted with a sheepish shrug.

"You didn't?" You couldn't hide your surprise.

"Well, I guess Fin and Liv said you were, but I didn't want to assume..." It sounded silly to him now, saying it out loud.

"So what made you change your mind?" You asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. You were glad he had, of course, you'd been wanting this moment for a long time, but something must have happened to give him the nudge he needed.

"This case, a couple, I won't go into details over dinner, but she... didn't make it," he began to explain, voice getting low towards the end.

"Yeah I heard about that, I'm sorry," your face softened in sympathy. Carisi had been in court today trying her rapist and murderer, according the Fin it had been pretty brutal; you shivered.

"Me too," he said distantly before clearing his throat and continuing, "anyway, her husband said to me after, that it hadn't been enough time. I said it never is, and he said no, they'd known each other for years, but he'd waited and waited to ask her out, thinking they had all the time in the world. He hadn't really considered that their time would run out. I guess I realised that sitting on my ass wasn't doing anyone any good, if I asked and you said no, at least I'd know, but..."

"I said yes," you finished for him, feeling more emotional than you'd expected. Had he really felt this way this whole time?

"That you did," he replied longingly, raising his glass in toast.

"I'm glad you asked" you told him honestly, bringing your glass to his.

"I'm glad I asked," he brought his glass down but his eyes lingered on yours, a soft smile on his face that you knew was mirrored on yours.

Okay, maybe you weren't entirely thinking about dinner anymore, but by the glint in his eyes, you weren't sure he was either...

#sonny carisi #dominic carisi #svu #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #special victims unit #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi imagines #sonny carisi one shot #svu imagine #svu imagines #svu one shot #law and order svu imagine #law and order svu imagines #law and order svu one shot #one shot

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heliads · 2 years ago

Note

Hey darling, hope you are doing well ! If possible I'd like to request a finnick x reader, where they were rivals/enemies growing up but ever since the reaping (for the reader first) she realises that she can't live without annoying finnick (too proud to say that she loves him) and when she wins the games, she tells finnick that even though they fight and argue like 24/7 for all their life, she loves him and was thinking about him all the time during the games and that she tried to win for finnick.

[ Also if possible for a part 2 ]

Finnick gets chosen for the next hunger games and the reader won the last one so she mentors him. But Annie is with him for the games and she gets close to Finnick and it makes the reader jealous. And you can decide for the ending if you want Finnick to have a dramatic end where he has to kill Annie in the games or someone almost kills Finnick but the reader pulled some strings for it to be Annie instead. Have fun with it, I don't mind whatever ending you write !! Thank you again darling and take care ❤❤❤

hi darling! i don't take requests for fics with two parts so you simply get both parts in one :) it is long enough for two parts though LMAO

masterlist

Sunlight on a Reaping day. Two things that seem as if they should never go together in the slightest, yet do. You think it would be far more fair if the world would save its pleasant days for hours that aren’t spent on horror. What a waste of good temperature, rare beauty in this thankless existence.

You have a few hours left before you have to turn in with the rest. The town square is clear right now, eerily empty; you can see it from the top window of your house, not that you’ve been looking. Not that you’ve been wondering what it’ll look like when that entire square is full of people waiting to hear which two of you will die this year.

You’re not in your house now, even though you’re supposed to stay there until the time comes to attend the Reaping. You can’t bear to be stuck there a moment longer. You always get this way when the Reaping comes around, as if by putting yourself in any cage, it’ll be that much easier for your name to be pulled from that bowl.

You don’t know how much time you have left until the inevitable comes. Every year, your name must come closer and closer to being pulled. Perhaps it’ll happen today. At least then the waiting would be done. You’d only have to be escorted to your death in the Capitol’s lurid glory, and what’s so wrong with that? You’d even get a decent meal out of the whole gory exchange.

You’re walking on a path near the outskirts of your district, Four. The edge of the sea is just in sight. It would be nice to walk down to where the surf meets the sand, to cool your heels in the bay even one more time, but you know better. The water’s edge is always under guard by Capitol Peacekeepers on the lookout for starving fools looking to steal some fish. You have no desire to risk their wrath on a day like this.

Your tendency to avoid being arrested doesn’t save you from being found, however. You’ve scarcely walked ten minutes before an irritatingly familiar voice sounds from behind you.

“Looking for a chance to run, Y/N?”

You roll your eyes and turn around. A boy has emerged from the shadows of the path behind you, although his golden blond hair shines just as bright as always.

“Wonderful to see you too, Finnick,” you respond coldly, “but I thought I didn’t have to face painful death until the Reaping. That means I shouldn’t have to see you until then.”

Finnick Odair, for of course it is he, bares his teeth in a broad grin. “What could you possibly mean by that? I think I’m hurt.”

You glare at him. “It means talking to you for longer than a second kills off my brain cells more than a trident to the skull. See you around,” you say pointedly, and turn back to the path ahead of you.

What a way to start the morning indeed. You and Finnick have been rivals, enemies, unwilling coworkers, everything but friends since the day you met. You don’t know how long you’ve known Finnick, only that you’ve spent far too much time around him than you’ve ever wanted. It feels like every word out of his mouth is a barb pointed in your direction, all sharp points and deadly blows.

Despite your usual rivalry, however, Finnick doesn’t seem willing to be left alone quite yet. He merely jogs to catch up to you, stretching his arms out in a tired yawn. “What a day. I think I’d almost like getting off work if it weren’t for the fact that it means I might die.”

You tilt your head to the side, considering this. “When you say it like that, it almost sounds like a bad thing.”

“What else could it possibly be?” Finnick grumbles. “Of course, if it got me away from you and into the lap of luxury, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing after all.”

You snort. “Oh, please. If you were ever in the lap of luxury long enough to make it through the Games, I’m sure you couldn’t enjoy a second of it. You’d be mourning my absence, of course, and that would simply ruin everything for you.”

Finnick chuckles. “What, you doubt that I would win? Have I not gotten into enough fights to prove that I could?”

You shrug absentmindedly. “Oh, I’m not doubting your love for conflict. I’m merely worried that every other tribute would get so annoyed by you that they’d make you an immediate target.”

Finnick’s brows raise comically. “Is that so?”

You nod solemnly. “I can see it now. It would be rare for every single other tribute to work together, but they’d make an exception to kill you first. It would be particularly shameful for you personally.”

Finnick laughs, tilting his head back as his eyelashes briefly flutter shut. You look only when you’re certain that he can’t see you staring, and the second he opens his eyes again, your gaze is fixed on the path once more.

“Well, I would hate for any of that to happen. Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t volunteer, then?”

You swat him on the shoulder. “Nobody volunteers without a death wish, you idiot. I’m not saying you don’t have one, but I thought even you were smart enough to avoid that.”

Finnick clasps a hand to his chest in the throes of mock agony. “Even me? Y/N, I can’t bear it if you call me an idiot. I may never live from the pain of this insult.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself, and do your best to immediately school your expression back into a more personally satisfying neutral. “That wasn’t funny.”

Finnick grins. “No? Is that why you’re laughing?”

“I’m not laughing,” you deny, fighting the corners of your lips from where they threaten to tug up again into a smile, “I would never laugh.”

“Are you sure?” Finnick asks, pointing a condemning finger towards you, “Because I can see you laughing right now. Don’t try to deny it, I can see you.”

“No you can’t,” you call out desperately, but Finnick won’t hear a word of it.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he says triumphantly, “we all know I’m the funnier one by far, you don’t have to fight it. Just let yourself laugh. It’s what you want, deep inside.”

Now you do laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

“So are you,” Finnick says, and has to quickly dodge a vengeful blow directed towards his arm.

To avoid another hit, he grabs at your hands. After a brief moment of struggle, you find yourself staring at the scene, the two of you with your arms woven in such a tight knot that you’re not entirely sure where you end and he starts. Finnick is standing far closer than you realized, you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheeks.

You and Finnick stand there, just looking at each other. You think that the moment might stretch on into the future, never ending so long as the two of you never let go. Finnick’s grip is just as strong as yours, he won’t be the first to part ways. He never would be.

A sharp siren coming from the direction of the town square startles you. Belatedly, you realize that it’s calling everyone in the district to the Reaping. Whatever time you had to distract yourself from this event is now gone, leaving only the haunted look in Finnick’s hands as you slowly step away.

“We’d better get over there before they send Peacekeepers looking for stragglers,” you say, voice barely more than a whisper.

Finnick nods quickly. “Yeah, sounds good to me. You look like a serious troublemaker, you’d better hurry.”

You give him a look, which only makes his lips quirk up again in a smile. It’s a much more muted expression than before, though. Finnick has always been good at appearances, and right now, his mind is on all the people that will be waiting for him back in that town square.

You turn to leave, but Finnick calls something after you before you can disappear back into the waving stands of trees.

“May the odds be ever in your favor.”

You look back at him over your shoulder, wondering if this would be the last moment you saw him at peace if either of you were reaped. If it is, you think you would be alright with it. This wasn’t the worst way to spend a morning.

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” you repeat. Finnick smiles quietly again, and you take that as your last reason to leave.

Your family is waiting for you by the edges of the town square. You help a few younger friends and neighbors enter their names into the Reaping for the first time; you smooth skirts and lapels and pray that you won’t know another twelve year old sent into the arena. Eventually, you join the other girls your age in long rows of District Four pride.

Your attendant from the Capitol takes to the stage soon enough, waving blissfully at the rest of you. He babbles on for a few minutes about the delight of being able to represent your district in the Games, the wonders of the Capitol, all of that usual Reaping nonsense.

However, even the Capitol’s latest puppet can only fill his mind with so much chatter before the time comes to send two unlucky sinners to their death. The Capitol man announces that girls will go first, and plunges his hand into a round bowl filled with names. He pulls a folded piece of paper from the vessel, and although the town square has been silent all along, you swear that an additional hush falls through the ranks of people as he squints at the name.

Every year, you complain about how whoever’s doing the Reapings takes way too long to read out the names. This time, though, you think there’s not nearly enough time in between the moment when the Capitol man unfolds the paper and when he reads the name printed there in a firm voice:

“Y/N L/N.”

Your head snaps up. It can’t be. A thousand days of accepting your fate, and the moment when your name actually is called in the Reaping, you don’t believe it. You don’t know where Finnick is in the crowd, but somehow the second you hear your name read aloud, you turn your head and manage to find him in an instant.

He’s staring right back at you, face contorted in horror. Finnick has joked a thousand times that if you were ever reaped, he’d be glad to have you gone. You’ve done the same with him, but now that the day has actually come, he looks absolutely terrified.

You don’t have time to consider how Finnick will survive with you gone, however, the crowds are already parting to give you space to walk up to the stage. You can hear your footsteps echo through the silent square as you make your way up. The Capitol man grins toothily at you.

He tries to engage you in a few questions about how excited you are to take part in the Games, but continues on when you just glare stonily at him. The name read from the boys’ bowl is one you vaguely recognize as one of the fishermen, Clay Riverflake, but it means nothing more to you than another face to see you die.

Soon enough, the Reaping ends, and the two of you are brought back so you can speak to your families one last time before the train comes to ferry you away to the Capitol. Your parents are distraught, but they manage to choke back their sobs long enough to bid you farewell.

There’s one more person waiting to speak to you before you go, though. You’re stunned to see Finnick idling by the door when your parents leave, and say as much to him.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would have been out celebrating. You get to be the best trident wielder in all of District Four now that I’m gone.”

Finnick forces a smile; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen it come with such difficulty. “Don’t think grief will get to me, Y/N, we all know my skills with a trident are leagues beyond yours.”

Despite the joke, Finnick’s voice still cracks on the last few words. He’s trying to lift your spirits, though, so you play along.

“Grief? I didn’t know that you would attribute such a strong emotion to all this.” You say casually.

For a moment, Finnick’s facade drops like a stone. “What else could I feel? You’re not supposed to go, Y/N. You’re not supposed to be reaped.”

Your hand flickers out to touch his shoulder for a second before you can stop yourself. “There’s nothing saving me, Finnick. My name is in there just like everyone else. Guess today proved it.”

A Peacekeeper at the door coughs, glancing pointedly at a clock on the wall. You’ll only have a few more moments before you have to go.

Sensing this, Finnick’s eyes shine with a strange sort of desperation, the likes of which you’ve never associated with him before. “Listen to me. Stay alive, alright? No matter what you have to do. Morals don’t matter here, none of that. I don’t care how brutal it is, just make it out. Promise me.”

You feel your breath startle in your chest. “I can’t promise anything like that, Finnick. You know that.”

Finnick shakes his head, unwilling to accept this. “Promise me!”

He’s cut off by the Peacekeeper calling for him to leave. Not wanting a fight on this day of all days, Finnick goes as asked, but he shoots you one last glance before he disappears down the hall, like he’s trying to memorize the sight of you before he loses you for good.

You think about that moment the entire journey to the Capitol, even when you’re in the thick of their gaudy festivities. You don’t have much time alone to truly ponder why Finnick, who had been all too complacent in teasing you whenever he could all these years, would suddenly have a change of heart when he thought you were going to die. When the distractions fade away, though, it’s the only thing that’s on your mind.

Finnick isn’t wrong, you need to do everything in your power to survive. The interviews and private training sessions are pivotal, and you’re able to claw your way to respectable showings in both. Maybe it’s due to your actual skills with survival skills and trident fighting that you picked up back home in District Four, or maybe it’s because even the out of touch Gamemakers can tell that there is nothing you would not do to win.

The Games start soon enough. In the weeks to follow, you’ll wonder how such a traumatizing part of your life was able to fade from your memory as soon as it ended. You see the most pivotal scenes over and over in your head, every kill, every fight, but the rest of it disappears. You remember flashes of running, the pangs of hunger, the terror of never being able to truly relax, but what sticks with you most is the horror of it.

When the fifteenth day dawns, it finds you standing alone with bloodied hands, the last tribute dead at your feet. The Capitol will be talking about it for months afterwards, how some girl from District Four was able to take down the most brutal of foes. They won’t entirely know how you did it, no matter how many times they rewind the footage to watch your technique.

They’ll say that you had the right motivation, and in the end, that’s the closest they’ll ever get to understanding you. After all, how could they possibly know that you killed and hurt and massacred because there was somebody waiting for you on the other side? Somebody you need more than anybody, somebody you lay awake thinking of even when your body was weak from lack of sleep.

That somebody is Finnick Odair, and that somebody is there waiting for you the second the train bearing you back from the Capitol pulls into the District Four station. He’s waiting back in the crowds, not wanting to seem like he’s altogether too interested in what happens, but he’s the face you see first when you emerge from the door of the traincar.

You don’t get to speak to him until much later. Your family has to swarm you, of course, and make sure that you’re okay (physically, yes, but in no other regard) before anyone else can even come near you. Only when you’ve returned to your house only to leave it immediately does Finnick find you again.

You’re wandering the paths near the water when Finnick approaches you at last. For a moment, he does not say a word, and you wonder if he’s picturing the same memory as you, when the two of you had been on these same paths and talked until the Reaping began. How far away it seems. How different you have become since that day.

His eyes are soft when they clear and look at you again. “How are you?”

You chuckle bitterly. “I’m not really sure how you want me to answer that. I’m alive, if that’s enough.”

“It is,” Finnick says calmly, “I’m not asking for anything else. I know what happened.”

You want to tell Finnick that he doesn’t know a thing about what went down during those Games, that just because he had to watch every minute of the fighting didn’t mean that he was aware of what really happened. Then again, how could he?

Instead, you let go of the words you’ve really been wanting to say. “I did it for you. That’s why I was able to survive. You told me to get through it, and so I did.”

Finnick nods. “Why was it enough?”

“I don’t know,” you say softly, “Maybe it was because I like bothering you more than anything. Is that silly to say? That I don’t want anything but a quiet house, safe from torment, a place with you in it where I can come down the stairs and see you laughing at the sight of me? I don’t care what words you say, how much they hurt. I just want to be there to hear you say them.”

Finnick stares at you, a dead man’s surprise at seeing the knife protruding from his chest. “What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. I’m clearly not used to life outside of the Games. Just– promise me something, alright?”

Finnick nods mechanically, perhaps before he’s even aware of what he’s doing. “Anything.”

There’s something in his quick response that you can’t bear to decipher at the moment. “Don’t let this change us. Don’t let it make you feel guilty about making the same jokes because I had to go through the Games.”

Something almost like a smile touches Finnick’s eyes. “I wouldn’t dare let such an opportunity pass me by.”

For a second, you’re able to smile back at him. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You part ways with something better than what you had before. You don’t see as much of Finnick as usual due to the fact that you’ve been relocated to the Victors’ Village, but he keeps finding ways to drop by every now and then. He’ll make sure to insult the occasional piece of furniture or bejeweled light fixture, but the retorts never have enough of a sting to truly hurt.

The months pass in a haze. You’re allowed your peace for the first few weeks, but Capitol reporters find a way to keep in contact with you. You’re their latest favorite, of course, and the wealthy don’t like to lose their toys so quickly.

Before you know it, it’s time for a new Reaping. You have to go up on that stage again, this time as a Victor. It’s a new perspective, one you don’t particularly enjoy. It felt far safer to blend in with that crowd below, up until the point where your name was called.

In truth, you’re almost just as nervous about this year’s Games as yours. This time, you have to be a Mentor, and the fact that you’ll have the lives of two kids in your hands makes a knot tighten in your stomach. How could you be trusted to save them, to forge the connections necessary to supply them with food and medicine?

You turn your head when the girl’s name is called. You recognize her, Annie Cresta, not only that familiar glint of panic in her eyes when she walks up to the stage but by memories of Finnick saying her name to you again and again. He talks about her often, it’s enough to make anyone feel discontent. By contrast, hearing the name of this year’s boy tribute is enough to send you into a terrible storm of fear.

“Finnick Odair.”

You swear that your blood slows in your veins. How could it be that both you and Finnick would be reaped? How are the odds possibly so skewed against you? Finnick’s face is calm when he’s reaped, and you wouldn’t know he feels a single shred of fear were it not for the fact that no one can hear their name called and not know themselves to be ruined.

You meet with him as soon as you can. Now that he’s out of the public eye, Finnick’s face has taken on a shade more of stress, but he still clasps your hands and asks if you’ll mentor him. He doesn’t trust anyone else, he says. You’re required to help him by Capitol law, but you promise your aid as freely as if it truly had been your choice. Of course you’ll stand by Finnick, you would never forgive yourself if you did anything else.

It’s not like Finnick needs much help, though. He takes the Capitol by storm from the second he shows up, all charming waves and dazzling grins. He blows kisses and the Capitol ladies faint by the hundreds, recites a few lines about how he’s in love with someone from his district during an interview and they fall by the thousands.

He’s unfairly proud of himself, too. The second Finnick comes out of the aforementioned interview, you don’t know that you’ve ever seen him so jubilant, even when he managed to beat you in a swimming race for the first time when you were kids.

You’re waiting for him, leaned up against the wall, and Finnick all but runs your way. “How was that?” He asks, grinning cheekily.

You fight the urge to laugh. “Absolutely absurd. What are you going to do next, start reciting poetry?”

Finnick’s head tilts to the side as he considers this. “Actually, that’s a pretty good idea.”

You scoff. “You’re unreal, it’s fascinating. Well, I hope Annie enjoys the effort as much as the rest of the Capitol.”

Finnick frowns, brought out of whatever reverie he was locked in previously. “Annie? What are you talking about?”

You spread your hands. “It’s like you were saying in your interview. Your hopeless crush on the girl from your district, remember? You’d better hope that Annie likes public displays, or you’re done for.”

Finnick nods slowly. “Yeah, right. Annie. Definitely.”

You glance at him quizzically, but Finnick quickly changes the subject, and the topic of his feelings for Annie is dropped soon enough. Despite Finnick’s momentary forgetfulness, you’re not convinced. You know without a doubt that Finnick’s crush is on Annie, it couldn’t be on anyone else.

How could it be, after all, when Finnick spends so much time with Annie? He helps her during training, you feel like you’re constantly walking into a room just to see the two of them sitting close together and talking in hushed voices. No, there is no one for Finnick except Annie. No matter how that makes you feel, Finnick likes Annie.

No matter how you feel indeed. You were able to admit it yourself during your Games, if not to Finnick’s face: you like him, you love him. It was the hardest realization you’ve ever had, but the most true. You can’t live without him. You don’t want to ever picture a world without him, because you have needed Finnick ever since he walked into your life all those years ago with a proud grin and all the means to rile you up. He is the only person for you, even if he doesn’t feel the same way towards you.

In the meantime, you can keep this promise to yourself by keeping Finnick alive. You don’t have to work hard to convince sponsors to favor Finnick, he manages that quite handily by himself, but you are able to offer him advice on how to keep them around. You swear you’ve chatted up every wealthy soul in the Capitol by the time the number of tributes starts to dwindle.

The only problem with Finnick’s survival, as it turns out, is Annie. Finnick finds himself unable to leave the girl behind, and although Annie is capable of defending herself, her trepidation to enter into serious violence is slowing both of them down.

Eventually, when there are only three tributes left, you know that you’re going to have to do something about it. Both Annie and Finnick are alive, along with a particularly nasty Career named Digit Overbloom. Finnick can kill Digit, of that you’re certain, but then you get into an issue where Finnick and Annie would have to face each other. Finnick is enough of a gentleman that he’d have qualms with deciding which of them would live, but you don’t want him to have to make that choice.

So, you get to talking amongst your sponsors, and arrange for the situation to be taken out of Finnick’s hands. The setup is simple: Finnick is drawn away from Annie when he’s promised a new weapon, and Digit is in turn lured to find Annie unawares. When Finnick returns to his camp to find Digit standing over Annie’s dead body, he’s filled with enough wrath to take the Career on, and from there, victory is easy.

It’s the perfect ending. The only person who doesn’t seem to agree with this, however, is Finnick himself. Once he’s been removed from the Arena and cleared by the medical officers, he storms down to your quarters, shouting at you at the top of his lungs about how you’ve killed Annie.

If there’s one thing Finnick should know about you, though, it’s that you’re always willing to fight back. So, you square your shoulders and argue right back at him.

“It had to happen this way, Finnick. You know that as well as I did. Only one person can win the Hunger Games.”

Finnick’s voice is bitter. “So you killed Annie. Makes a ton of sense.”

“I had Digit kill Annie,” you clarify, “because it gave you the chance to win. That’s what it means, Finnick, I got you out alive. In case you forgot, there’s only one victor.”

He swallows harshly. “I realize that, but you didn’t have to kill her. We could have handled it without you meddling.”

You shake your head coldly. “Alright, fine. Hate me. I don’t care, because you’re alive to do it, and I am selfish enough to say that I would gladly have you despise me for the rest of time if it meant you had enough breath to draw until then. Either you killed Annie or Digit did. And we all know you couldn’t have done the job yourself.”

Finnick blinks at you in surprise. “Why’s that?”

You look away. “Because you love her.”

Finnick steps in front of you, forcing your gaze to rest on him again. “No. No, I don’t. There has only ever been one girl that I loved, and it wasn’t Annie.”

Your brow furrows with confusion, all traces of anger gone along with Finnick’s. “Then who could it possibly be?”

Finnick almost smiles, that same half moon sliver that you keep seeing. “Isn’t it obvious? You.”

You jerk away as if he’s stabbed you. In a way, maybe he has. Finnick has your bloody, beating heart in his hand, and you’re not even sure if he is truly aware of it.

“What?”

Your voice comes out shaky, disbelieving. Finnick lifts a casual shoulder, although you notice that the rest of him is practically vibrating with nerves.

“You heard me. I love you, Y/N. Always have.”

You stare at him, unable to believe what you’re hearing. “Then why– you didn’t tell me– why would you be so mad about Annie dying?”

“Because she was my friend,” Finnick says simply, “and with her, I had a guarantee that she would stay my friend even after I told you how I felt. I didn’t know if you would forgive me if I said what I wanted to say. You made me promise that I wouldn’t change how we acted together, remember? Annie let me pretend that things could stay the same way forever.”

You nod slowly, almost unaware of what you’re doing. “I remember that promise. I only made you say it because I was afraid of losing you.”

Finnick reaches forward to take your hand. The brush of his fingers against yours startles you back to reality. “You’re not losing me, Y/N. I swear it. We both went through the Games, didn’t we? They can’t touch us anymore. We’re free.”

You hold your stare a second longer, then start to smile. “We’re free,” you repeat.

Finnick chuckles softly. “I missed that smile.”

You look at him, disbelieving and fully aware at the same moment, then lean forward and kiss him. You don’t think you’ve ever been able to really startle Finnick since the Reaping, but this just might do the trick.

After a moment, he recovers and kisses you back, harder than you expected. It makes you laugh against his lips, which is of course motivation for him to kiss you even more. In the end, the two of you break away through bruised lips and matching smiles.

Finnick is right, isn’t he? The two of you are free. The Capitol can try and pin you down all they want, but they can’t take this away, no matter how hard they try. Let them come for the two of you, you think. They won’t be able to do a thing.

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catt-leya · 3 years ago

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93. “That’s good, baby, keep doing that.” and 94. “Just relax for me, I’ll make it feel good.” for smutty may 👀

feel free to pick one if you don't wanna do both :)

Smutty May 02.05.

Try (18+) || Rick Grimes

Today is the first post for Smutty May and I hope you like it 💗 Some fics will be shorter and some longer, but every 2nd day in May there will be new Rick content 🙈

Summary: You never learned to drive with a clutch and Rick gives you a driving lesson with a little reward at the end.

93. "That's good, baby, keep doing that."

94. "Just relax for me, I'll make it feel good."

Trigger: fingering, dirty talk

The sun shines through the barred window and I'm putting the last of the cans away.

My job is to stack them on the shelf in the small storage room and periodically my gaze slides out to the yard in front of the prison.

I've been putting the cans away much longer than I normally would have, but in my defense, the view out the window is anything but bad, so I'm happy to take my sweet time standing right there with pretense.

As I look out the window once again, Rick is just pulling his shirt hem up to his face to wipe off his sweat. I can only see him in profile, but it's enough for me to gawk at his flat stomach from a distance.

My hand hangs in the air with the can because I paused in mid-motion as I watch Rick put his hands on his hips and look up at the sky.

Ever since I arrived here at the prison I've been attracted to Rick and every time I do I feel like there's some tension between us, but neither he nor I have ever tried anything to take it a step further. Therefore, I am content to look at him from a safe distance.

Rick turns his back on me, and I put the can down on the shelf with a sigh. I look at all the supplies we've gathered so far and have hope that we really can survive the coming winter.

A few days ago, we agreed to all go on scheduled runs for the next days and if everything stays the way we planned days ago, it'll be my turn tomorrow along with Rick.

I look out the window again and can't see Rick, which is reason enough to stack the cans on the shelf faster.

For the rest of the day, I don't see Rick again. The last time I really notice him that day is when I hear him move to the cell next to me and his bed squeaks loudly as he drops onto it.

He is so close to me, but still way too far away. Sighing, I turn onto my back and stare at the ceiling. It takes me forever to finally fall asleep.

***

I'm awake way too early the next morning when I hear Rick's voice softly say my name and then, "We need to get going."

Groaning, I open my eyes and look straight at his body standing in the doorway, casting a shadow into my cell.

I stretch my arms above my head and then sigh, "I'm coming."

Slowly, I stand up and look at Rick who is still standing in my doorway and ask ironically, "Do you want to stay here? I need to change for a minute."

He correctly interprets my undertone and mutters an apology before stepping out of my cell and saying as he walks, "I'll wait for you at the car."

I quickly pull a thin sweater over my top and tuck my knife into my belt before jogging out of the cell block, only slowing down when I see Rick standing next to the car.

Until that moment, I hadn't even really thought about the fact that I'd have to sit alone next to him in that little car for some time, and I swallow hard when he turns to me and looks directly at me. As best I can, I pull myself together and head for the passenger door, but Rick shakes his head and points to the map in his hands, "You drive. Daryl gave me the map so I can take a look at it."

Briefly, I take a look inside the car and when I see the clutch between the seats, I sigh, "I can't drive with a clutch." Surprised, he raises his eyebrows and asks, "Seriously?"

I push past him and reach for the passenger door, "Yeah, seriously. It's not like I've ever needed it until now."

***

Though Rick is driving us now, the fact that I can't drive probably doesn't give him any peace, so he practically forces me behind the wheel in the middle of nowhere to teach me how to drive with a clutch, but when I stall for what feels like the 100th time, I slap the steering wheel in frustration and groan, "I just can't do it, Rick. I've never learned, and I never will."

I lean my head against the headboard and turn to face him. Rick gently grabs my hand and presses it back onto the gear stick as he says, "You're doing fine. Just relax."

Sighing, I let my hand slide along the lever and Rick yanks his hand away like he's been burned.

I watch him avoid my gaze and sit up a little further in the passenger seat, coughing: "Just try again. We've got plenty of time."

Actually, I don't feel like struggling with the car anymore, but Rick has been so patient with me all afternoon that I just don't want to disappoint him. So, I look back at the road ahead and ask, "How fast should I let the clutch come?"

Calmly, he answers me, "Better too slow than too hectic, or you'll stall the car."

I squint my eyes, put the car in 1st gear and let the clutch come slowly.

Slowly the car rolls off and I'm so glad I got it done that I abruptly take my foot off the clutch and of course it rumbles and we stop again.

Again, I slam on the steering wheel and hear Rick laughing low and roughly beside me, "That start worked after all."

I give him a deadly look and growl, "Drive us back, Rick."

He nods toward the road, "Try it one last time. I'll help you."

I'm about to say that his help hasn't helped me so far, when he places his large and warm hand on my thigh.

I immediately choke as I catch my breath and cough softly, "What are you doing?"

I can feel him looking at me, but I dare not face him and just stare at his hand, which feels way too good on my leg.

Rick clears his throat quietly and then replies to me, "Just try to start."

My mind is in completely different territory and not there to make this stupid car go, but I do as he asks and look ahead. I just can't ignore how close his fingers are to the spot that is screaming so much for him and I just can't get the first gear to shift.

The car suddenly seems way too small and when Rick whispers, "Focus." I'm about to rip open the car door and just bolt out of the car and jog to the jail.

But on what feels like the 10th try, I get the car in first gear and try to ignore his hand pushing down my leg as soon as I let the clutch come too fast.

And sure enough, the car slowly rolls off and keeps going when I completely release my foot from the pedal. I can't stall the car anymore, but Rick's hand still stays on my thigh and my hands get crazy sweaty from all the stress.

I'm not going particularly fast, but I don't feel like I necessarily want to go any faster than I have to, so I ask quietly, "Can I stop?"

Rick's hand lightly caresses my thigh as he replies, "Sure."

Stopping works out a lot better than starting, and I come to a stop in the middle of the empty road without much trouble.

The euphoria of actually getting it done makes me suddenly forget that it's Rick sitting next to me, and I fall around his neck as best I can in the little car. Caught off guard, he puts his hands around me too and mumbles, "Wasn't so hard, huh?"

Awkwardly, I let myself slide back into the driver's seat and his hand, which had been around my waist before, comes to rest on my leg again.

As if of its own accord, my eyes wander to his hand and I could swear it's getting warmer in the little car. It is completely silent and I stare at his big hand, which wanders very minimally higher.

I am too aware of his presence and my breath quickens as he moves higher.

Slowly, I look up and meet his exact gaze. Breathless, I whisper, "I got it."

His fingers brush the inside of my thighs as he replies, "Hmmmm. You did."

The mood in the car is charged and goosebumps cover my arms at his raspy voice. I'm not aware of anything but his body inches away from me and then he leans in.

It's only inches, but I can smell him. I smell the soap he must have washed with this morning and his own scent, which almost makes me feel high.

My lips part and he lowers his chin a little to look at me from under his long lashes, "I've thought so many times about what it would be like to be able to touch you while I was lying in my cell. Every time you moved in bed, I thought about it. Every fucking time.”

A soft whimper escapes me and my thighs part automatically to finally feel his hand there.

He leans in even further and his lips graze my throat as he whispers, "Are you spreading your legs for me?"

Rick places his hand over my jeans on my already damp center and I moan softly, "Yes, please."

He kisses my neck lightly, "Please what?"

I tilt my head to the side to give him more room and murmur, "Please touch me."

This morning I never would have expected to say those words to Rick, but now that his brown curls are brushing my cheek, I would tell him anything he wants to hear.

His hand slides to my waistband and then he slides his hand underneath. At the first contact with his fingers, I whimper and unconsciously push my hips up, making him laugh softly, "Just relax for me, I'll make it feel good."

Gently he circles his fingers and I jerk my head around to kiss him on the lips. My heart hammers in my chest as I sloppy kiss him and hardly get air as he plays around the little bundle of nerves between my legs

Uncontrollably, I moan into his mouth as he pushes a finger slowly inside me, knowing exactly what to do to make me moan his name, "Rick...oh my God...Rick."

My insides tighten pleasantly and I reach into his shirt to pull him even closer to me as he pulls away from my lips and murmurs, "That's good, baby, keep doing that."

He slides the hand that isn't in my pants down my neck and he gently pulls my hair so I'm facing him. I can barely focus on his blue eyes as he pulls his hand out of my hair and slides his thumb between my swollen lips without breaking eye contact.

We are sitting in a small car in the middle of nowhere and I really start sucking on his finger and watch in fascination as his cheeks get hot and his eyes slowly displace the bright blue as he keeps thrusting his finger into me in time with my sucking.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the windows of the car slowly fogging up and I start sliding back and forth on the car seat to have more contact with Rick's hand.

He licks his lips and moans softly, "Fuck, I've imagined so many times what you'd look like when I finger you and you can't take it anymore."

Then he penetrates me with a second finger and it's all over me. I can't suck on the finger in my mouth anymore and throw my head back as I start to jerk with a moan.

In the background I can hear him demanding of me, "Look at me, baby."

I have to muster all my willpower to face him as I come wincing around his fingers, which keep fucking me until I'm just a heap of misery in the driver's seat, barely getting enough air to fill my lungs.

Gently he pulls his hand out of my pants and then licks his fingers, almost making me come a second time just by the sight of it.

I stare at him wide-eyed and he tilts his head slightly as he looks directly at me, "And was it enough of a reward that you have properly started with the car?"

No more sound escapes my lips, but I nod silently, certain that I'll be taking a few more driving lessons from Rick.

@positive-squid @hail-yourselves @mrsxreeves

#smutty may #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes imagine #twd #twd x reader #the walking dead #request

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eichikissed · 2 years ago

Text

HERE WITH ME — 15 "it's okay, i promise."

< previous | masterlist | next >

author’s note — not the last chap yet but :3

—

"Sena!" Your eyes brightened upon seeing the familiar silver-haired model that you, oh, so adored. "Hurry, hurry! The view of the sunset is nice from here." Izumi whined, sprinting his way towards the bench that you were sitting on. He placed the bag of snacks down in the middle of the both of you.

Your eyes shifted towards his figure. He looked peaceful, staring at the sunset that you quietly watched while you were waiting for him to arrive. "Quit staring… it's making me feel shy, you know?" He teased, returning the gesture and stared right back at you with a wide grin on his stupid face.

"Eh? You're a model, Sena. Stop lying! It's not good for your beauty."

Izumi shakes his head, taking out a ramune bottle from the bag, popping it open and offering it to you. "Here, drink up. Heard from Shiina that you didn't eat anything before you left. Jeez, take better care of yourself!" He nagged, even ripping open a bag of biscuits. "You can tell me what you need to tell me later. Just… eat up for now." He huffs, placing the bag on your lap and turning his attention back to the scenery, while stealing a few glances back to make sure that you were eating.

"Thank you, Sena… I'm glad I have you to nag me all the time. You're better than Meru." You joked, finishing up the snack and drink that he gave you.

"I do NOT nag you all the time!"

"Sure, you do."

Silence quickly took over, as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers and feet. Why were you so nervous? You didn’t care when you told your friends, so why is it different with Izumi?

"I'm sure you've… already heard of who Sho is. I hope he didn't do anything to bother you." You started, while he only remained silent and listened. "He's my… older brother. I don't like to consider him as one, though. From the day I was born, we didn't really get along. He only stuck by me up until last year in order to use me until there's nothing left…" Izumi scooted a little bit closer, feeling quite tense upon realizing what you were about to tell him.

"I no longer wanted to associate myself with him when he left… but," taking a deep breath, you felt your body grow tired. "He came back to take me. He wanted me to stay in Osaka with him. Truth is, my body isn't in the… best condition right now. So he was planning on taking me to Osaka to definitely make my life even more miserable rather than take care of me."

The model quickly grabbed a hold of your hand, slightly squeezing it.

"I'm sorry, Sena. I know I left you hanging for a few weeks and came back like nothing happened. I'm sorry that I hid this from you. I don't know how much time I have left, so I ran away from it."

Izumi shakes his head, his gaze softening. "Don't apologize to me, [Name]. You aren’t obligated to tell me anything, so thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this." He says, cracking a smile.

"I like you. Did you know that? Since freshman." Izumi confessed, rubbing circles against your wrist with his thumb. "I never thought I'd ever get close to you like this,"

"How about spending the time you have left with me? Let's go out, [Name.]"

taglist — @chibi-jinchou @lleoll @mikctp @ara-arashi @kkichu @lizziebolt @jeonncafe @tjjjrsj @444neapolitain @valeriele3 @bxkugzo @thelocal-idiot @idiahair @thathowling @enqy @kohakus @dexocore @5ugarcan3 @tamayoris @miihai @buns-inhiding @kunikame @shionszz @kokomiscanonlover @luvmouche @kkiryu @starkinnies @taruruchi @iveheartu

#ensemble stars x reader #ensemble stars x y/n #ensemble stars x you #enstars x reader #izumi sena x reader #izumi sena x y/n #enstars x y/n #enstars x you #izumi sena #izumi sena x you

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lemonyko0 · 2 years ago

Text

Work For It - jjk

"what the hell are you wearing?" | jungkook comes over sooner than you expected and finds you in a compromising position ;)

» genre: smut, maid costume 🕺 fluff, established relationships n they're both simps! streamer au

» word count: 2.7k

Work For It - jjk

i sigh heavily as i tug the tiny skirt down, purposely out of frame although i know my chat can tell i'm back by the way they begin to spam with glee.

i grab my pink cat ear headphones (as previously gifted by my boyfriend, not of my own will, although i find them rather adorable but would never admit it) and place them back on once again before speaking to my stream.

a week ago, gaining 1,000 subs in only seven days seemed an impossible task for a small time overwatch streamer. but what i’d assumed to be an unreachable sub goal had somehow been turned into an internet spectacle, and i had been naive to think men on the internet would not have taken advantage of my stupidity.

or that they wouldn't hold me to it.

“alright no disgusting comments or else horny jail to all of you!”

i sit back down in my chair with cheeks red, hoping my embarrassment wasn't noticeable due to my somewhat dim lighting.

“okay last round in the maid costume, as promised, then i'm done!”

and after the quickest round i've ever played i'm giving the most heartfelt thanks i can to all who supported me and signing off, promising to see them all soon and sending them off by blowing a kiss.

as soon as the streams off and the camera no longer flashes red, i heave back into my seat, completely unaware that that last round was not as fast as i thought it was and i had taken much longer to put on this stupid costume than i had anticipated.

i knew jungkook was coming over by 7, and my stream hardly ever went past 6:30.

but today it had, and i'd never regretted giving him a key to my apartment more than i had when he walked through my bedroom doorway in utter shock.

his naturally adored doe eyes were the widest i’d seen and i was not the only person in the room with a blush.

“w-what-”

“oh. well this is weird.” i spin around in my chair to face him, there's nothing to do about it now, the damage is done. I rest my chin on my hand as i face him in my seat, watching as he looks me up and down in surprise.

"what the hell are you wearing?” he finally lets out, giggling all at the same time as he crosses the room and pulls the extra chair beside me.

“i exceeded my sub goal, and i may have jokingly said if i gained a thousand by friday i would play a round in a maid costume.” i shyly admit, realizing now how stupid this all was and how i was most definitely taken advantage of by the internet.

to my surprise he sighs and chuckles, “jesus for a second i was worried you'd moved on from streaming just gaming.”

i look at him confusedly, “moved on from gaming …?” then the lightbulb goes off to what he was insinuating, “yah jeon jungkook!” he earns himself a slap on the arm and one on his thigh as he shields away from me with a laugh.

“what?! you're hot enough for it and you'd definitely make more money.” i cross my arms under my chest and his eyes don't do much to hide the way he shamelessly stares at the way they sit atop my arms, my cleavage on display from his taller angle.

“my eyes are up here jeon.” i uncross my arms and lift his chin with my fingers. “also, if you're so pro-cam girl then maybe i should.”

“hey now i didn't-”

“you think maybe a cat girl next? i think cosplay would be my thing. could probably make good money playing innocent characters since you tell me it's a part of my charm all the time.” i give him a seductive smile, playing it all to his personal likings.

“you'd be willing to do all that for old creepy men but not for me?” he scoots his seat closer and puts his hands on my knees, a pout resting on his face.

“why give valuable things away for free? this is simple supply and demand jungkook, you of all people ought to understand, it was your suggestion of course.”

he whines and pulls me closer to where our knees are touching, “i never suggested it! i got worried you were doing other things and jumped to conclusions, this is what i get for missing your stream last week.”

i grin and reach a hand out to twist his dark locks in my hand, “since you realize your mistake i won't tease you anymore.”

he lifts his head up and stares at me blankly for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts, and i watch the smirk grow on his face, i already figured this would happen as soon as he caught me. “well, we both know what has to happen now.”

i giggle as he pulls me from my seat and towards my bed, “what makes you so sure I’m gonna let you fuck me with a maid costume on?” he opens his mouth prepared with some witty response i’m sure, but i ask, “also, are you really even into this? I thought we were memeing.”

he grins and shakes his head, “oh i am dead serious about this.”

“so you’re actually into this?”

he stares at me perplexed, “y/n i have never been so serious about anything in my whole life.”

we both chuckle at his response and he leans in to kiss me but i laugh, “i’m sorry, but seriously? a maid costume?”

he leans into me and groans, “baby please stop interrogating me about it.”

i shake my head, “i just don’t understand! you’ve never even mentioned being into costumes and stuff let alone specifically this.”

he sighs against my shoulder, “what do you want me to explain? that seeing my girlfriend in a sexy unrealistic maid costume with her boobs on display and her ass hanging out of the skirt has me hard as a rock in my pants? is that really hard to believe?!”

my laughter fills the room at his confession, “okay okay so it's more of an outfit thing and not really the whole dressing up thing?”

he nods and hums, “well, kind of, we could get more creative.”

i can practically hear the mischief in his voice, “creative, how? i’m not cooking or cleaning for you.”

he takes a step back, arms still wrapped around my waist and examines me, “you can work for me in other ways, as my maid.”

“work for you?” i repeat, a smile forming on my face, how lucky he is that i prefer giving than receiving.

i hum and flip us around and push him onto the bed with a large grin, “is this what you wanted, sir?”

he crawls up on the bed until his back is against my bed frame, eyes blown out and hardly containing his eagerness. only now am i able to notice the tent in his sweats, he really wasn’t joking. “yes, maid, you do know what to do, right?

i nod slowly, crawling onto the bed with him and soaking in the way his eyes follow me with adoration. I sit beside him and place a gentle hand on his jaw, “may i, please?”

i feel his hot breath against my face and he whispers a yes, leaving me to close the gap between our lips. i kiss him delicately, as if i’m hesitant, and he mimics best he can until he becomes greedy. pushing against me, hands roaming my body anywhere he could reach and grab and he begins to lick at my lips until i open my mouth, allowing him in.

i could just kiss him for hours and never be bored, and many days he lets me. but today is his lucky day i suppose, and i’m sure he’d agree.

i move my hand from his hair and trail it down his chest, using my nails to create a chilling feathery sensation on his skin and he grins, pulling me by the bottom of my thighs towards him and positioning me on top of him, oh my favorite.

i smile and pull away, leaving a hand on his shoulder as i look at him, lips glossy from my makeup and i decide then and there i should do that more often because he looks angelic. “for a maid you seem to be spoiling me a bit, don’t you think?”

he just smiles and shrugs, “i treat my workers well.” he kisses me chastly, “and we’ll see if you still think i’m spoiling you after i paint your pretty lips white, hm?”

i fake gasp, “such a dirty mouth.” i rub my nose against his, “it would be my pleasure, though.”

“i bet it will be.” he leans back in more fervently, showing his need by the way he explores my mouth and grips at my ass through my tiny skirt, vocalizing just how much he enjoys it through small moans as he has his way with my body.

i only allow him a few more minutes before breaking the kiss and leaning into him, trailing my lips down his neck and rolling my hips against him. he rolls his head back against the bed frame and cusses, “you’re working so hard, almost like you’re getting paid.”

“almost?” i speak breathlessly into his ear, “guess i’m not working hard enough.”

he watches as i sink down on the bed and tug at his sweats, lifting his hips for me and kicking them off entirely leaving him only in his boxers that never leave much to the imagination. “something more like this, sir?”

he groans out a yes as i palm him, “you’re surely not getting paid to tease me.”

i grin, “just making sure.” he narrows his eyes, unappreciative of my joke and allows me to roll the rest of his clothing down, and resuming exactly where i was before. my hand won’t be enough unless i really plan on working at it but frankly i don’t, so after a few moments of preparation i lean down and place small kisses from his hips, then to his tip and he shutters. i trail my tongue flat against the base of his cock to the tip, swirling my tongue around and repeating the pattern until i feel his hand at the back of my head, wordlessly instructing me to take him all in and i do, looking at him with innocent eyes, knowing he loves it and it's one of my charms.

i work my way lower and lower each time, listening to his moans of approval and the way he grips a little tighter the deeper i take him, and to me it's a reward, knowing he enjoys it so much. “god baby, don’t fucking stop.”

i remove my mouth for a second and grin messily, “yes sir.”

he bites his lips and i don’t allow myself to cherish the way he looks at me, i’m determined to give him exactly what he requested. i take him as far as i comfortably can, and a little more, and stay as long as i can, allowing my throat to close periodically around him and hearing him groan each time. he begins to buck his hips into my face, nearing the end and struggling to maintain his composure.

"fuck, sit up.” he instructs, grabbing his length and rising to his knees in front of me as i sit on my legs, looking up at him. He grins and shakes his head at my eagerness, lending a hand out to my face as his thumb tugs on my bottom lip and i open my mouth. he places the tip of his cock on my tongue, aimed at my mouth as he jerks himself off until he comes in my mouth, some still managing to get on my face.

he relaxes back and stares at me for a moment, “you’re gorgeous.”

i tentatively open my eyes, “glad to know you still think i’m pretty with cum on my face.” he chuckles and i instruct him to open my bedside table that has a face towel tucked into it and cleans his mess off of me, giving me plenty of soft kisses and thank you’s.

“jungkook!” he hums and digs his face in my neck. “how about one more thing, hm?”

he picks his head up, “i’m listening.”

i grin and lean into his ear, “how about my payment, now?”

he takes a deep breath and looks at me, “i will do anything for you.”

i shake my head, “simp.”

he grins and kisses me, “you gave me head in a maid costume, i’d marry you right now if i could.”

i scoff, and push him lightly, letting him fall back against the bed, “shut up!”

he smiles at me as i straddle him again and lean in to kiss him, lips pressing together with much less care than before, and he gets excited quickly, flipping me over before kissing my neck and pulling my tights and underwear down, “never thought i’d say this, but it pains me to take your clothes off.”

i giggle and tug at the bottom of his shirt, “can’t say the same.” he strips his shirt off and tosses it in the same direction of my underwear, his lips resume their exploration of my neck and chest as one of his hands ghost the insides of my thigh, drawing circles on them but never moving closer.

i whine impatiently, grabbing his hand and moving it to cup my heat and he chuckles against my skin, running a finger across my slit teasingly, “so needy and wet.”

i hum, “want you so bad jungkook.”

he groans against my skin, slipping a finger inside of me and gently pumping in and out almost teasingly. i let out small noises of appreciation and he graces me with another finger, “so pretty baby.”

he removes his hand and begins to position himself until i stop him, “what?”

i smile and bat my eyes, “wanna ride you.”

he practically moans at my confession and wastes no time seating himself and helping me get into position, lining his tip with my entrance and slowly sinking myself onto him. i allow myself to get lost in the feeling of him stretching my walls, rubbing against them so deliciously i could ride him all day if only i had the stamina. “fuck i am not going to last long.” he tells me, eyeing my chest in front of him coupled with the way i wrap so tightly around him, and its relieving because after teasing me with his fingers and our earlier adventure i was sure i woudln’t either.

i lift my hips at a speed pattern that has me mewling in his lap, as he helps me out with both hands gripping at my ass, his lips kissing, biting, and sucking at my exposed cleavage and he groans, “so fucking wet baby, fuck please let me.”

he doesn’t need more than my tired nod of approval before flipping me onto my back and moving his hands up to the top of my thighs, underneath my knees as he spreads my legs and repositions himself before thrusting into me hard. both of us worked up and chasing our high and he reaches a hand out to draw circles on my clit and i moan loudly followed by a string of cuss words and his name.

he groans at the way i tighten around his cock and my back arches off the bed at his movements, knowing exactly how to get me to cum around him, “come on baby, you close?” he asks breathlessly.

i nod quickly, “y-yes fuck, so close.” my hands begin to curl into the bedsheets and i feel my high hit me like a brick wall, my vision fades as i cum around him. he cusses and chases his own high, pulling out soon after and finishing on my stomach.

“fuck, that was good.” he says, crashing beside me with one arm underneath his head.

i grin, “always good with you.”

he admires me, “and you called me a simp.”

i smile and roll over into his arms to kiss him, “we’re both simps. now, do you wanna help me shower or not?”

thank u so much for reading n i hope u enjoyed !!! kisses have a beautiful day <3 - ara :)

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taglist: @marvelahsobx @notbotheredtho @fragmentof-indifference @jwnghyuns @heronstairsxd @isab3lita @shescharlie @kooookie @jeonzll

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extravaguk · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

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There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

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"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

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It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

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Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

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Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

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