#* am i throwing you off? // musing.

[mercysought]

(a helig surprise) [APPROVAL] + priestess hearing an annoying flute melody every morning squat before sunrise, of unknown origins, but courtesy of felassan.

approval + (prompt) // selectively accepting // @nelepost @causeaimed

Each day the priestess woke up in this world that seemed to have been built and shaped in every single conceivable way to somehow, personally, inconvenience her; was another day that she wondered why she survived and others didn't.

There was only good thing about this noise that followed her every morning as she attempted to drag herself from a badly slept night of slumber. Attempting to re-awaken ancient muscles: the noise was good motivation to get it done and over with. In the strangest of ways, the consistent drilling-like noise made her think back of her early days in the temple, the training had been far more brutal but the consistent noise that indicated rhythm helped.

It helped, but it didn't mean that she didn't want to find whichever chirping bird had decided to personally victimise her and twist its little neck.

the priestess slightly disapproves

[sophiethewitch1]

www has a playlist? Please where can I find it😭

This link here is the mini playlist which is condensed and has like songs that I 100% have a reason for having on there and most of the songs where explained if they didn't have extremeee spoilers over on and this link here. here is the full playlist which I use personally (which you can tell because it has 1601 listens to it insert that one war veteran staring into camera meme here) but some of the songs are only like slightly associated.

[chloenwckobia]

tag drop!

[yuquinzel]

atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

[kaciidubs]

Ass or Tits?

❣ Summary: The question of 'ass or tits' never truly mattered when you had a group of men who loved all of you. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 6.4k ❣ Warnings: Poly! OT8 x Reader, smut, humor, fluff, light Dom/Sub dynamics, creampie(s), squirting, cum play, referenced after care ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Usual first name + pet name references for the members, Reader is referred to as Baby, Mommy, Miss, Princess, Good Girl, Bunny, Bub, Kitten, Jagi, Noona, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“Hey, Hyune?”

The artist hummed as he sketched away at his desk, “Yeah?”

“What do you like better, ass or tits?”

He froze, dropping the charcoal pencil as your words ran through his head on repeat.

“Your ass or tits?”

There was no way he was about to get caught in an infamous partner discourse, not after years of being immune to other futile debates brought on by a certain freckle-faced fairy.

You scoffed out a laugh, rolling onto your stomach from your resting place on his bed, “I mean, I’d hope you’d be talking about my ass or tits, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin whipped his head toward you, eyebrows pushing to his hairline, “W-Well how am I supposed to know!?  This is one of the questions every person dreads! You’re expecting me to pick one or the other on one of my favorite people in the world? What then? Are you going to ask me ‘acrylic or charcoal’? Because I’ll have you know, those are two very different mediums and-”

“Hyunjin, baby - it’s just a question!” Stifling a chuckle, you shook your head, “It’s not like I’m going to ban you from sex if you pick something I didn’t expect - I’m just curious, you know? All of you have different preferences and even though after two years I can kind of make a good guess, I wanna hear it from the sources.”

His shoulders relaxed, visibly slumping in his chair and running his cleaner hand through his short hair, “You’re stressing me out, muse! Why didn’t you lead with that?!”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m so sorry, my little drama queen - now, pick!”

Dark eyes scanned your figure, his head cocking to the side and if you looked closer you could’ve seen the gears turning in his brain.

“Mm… Tits.”

“I knew it.”

“Wha- What’s that supposed to mean?! Are you calling me basic?”

“No, my prince, I’m calling you predictable,” getting off of the bed, you walked toward him and pinched his cheek lovingly, “you grope Changbin’s chest like it’s your job, and there’s rarely a moment your hand isn’t on my chest when we’re cuddling. Now, go wash up - we’re meeting in Chris’s room.”

With a quick kiss to the crown of his head, you walked out of his room with your phone in hand, thumbs typing away in your group chat.

|❣️: Chris’s room asap 💋

“So… Is there a reason why we were summoned? To Chan’s room, no less?” Minho hummed inquisitively, picking up a small souvenir from the eldest’s dresser and turning it in his hands.

“If this is an intervention about League, I swear I didn’t mean to yell that night - I honestly didn’t think anyone heard me!” Came Felix’s whine of defense, already making himself a home on the California king bed, “Seungmin was throwing the game on purpose and I was losing against this stupid-”

“That’s crazy.” Seungmin gaped, faux shock on his face as he purposefully rolled on top of the Aussie, a muffled groan getting caught in the midst of it all. “I told you not to put too much trust in me!”

“Lixie, hate to break it to you, but this definitely isn’t an intervention, but we’ll come back to that point later.” Clapping your hands, you took in the rest of the members who either piled onto the bed, doubled up in Chris’s computer chair, or stood against the door frame. “Anyways - I called you guys here because I have a question!”

“I’d peel a pineapple for you if you asked.”

The room went silent as all eyes shot to Jisung who was currently seated in Minho’s lap, a triumphant smile on his pretty lips.

“I… No, Jisung, it’s not that question, but I’ll remember your answer when I do ask.” Willing away the confused looks sent your way, you cleared your throat, “The actual question is; which do each of you like better - my ass, or my tits?”

The room broke into an uproar, various voices speaking over one another as some questioned the validity of the question while others argued their respective points.

“Noona, you really think we can just pick one thing to like about you?”

Minho scoffed, “I can - her ass, easily.”

“Oh… Shit, you’re right.”

“Jeongin?! Weren’t you just saying you couldn’t pick?!”

“Hyung, that was before I was reminded of how her ass looks in her pajama shorts - you can’t tell me that’s not the hottest sight.”

“I can because I chose her tits!”

Felix laughed, holding his hand up for an air high-five, “I was gonna pick her tits too, Jinnie!”

“This is the stupidest conversation I’ve ever heard,” Seungmin mumbled, throwing an arm over his face, though it did nothing to cover the redness of his ears.

“Bunny, you know you’re more than just your body parts, right?”

You nodded enthusiastically, “Binnie, I’m well aware - I’m just asking for the fun of it, it’s nothing deeper than that!”

Changbin hummed, fluffy curls shifting with the movement, “In that case, I’m team ass - it’s just so cute and round and-” He lifted his hand, squeezing the air as if it were your ass cheeks with a dreamy sigh, “-god, I love it.”

“Okay but, what if we can’t pick?” Jisung piped up, a soft pout puffing his cheeks, “There’s no way I can just choose one - look at you, you’re fucking sexy, Jagi!”

“The oral fixation says boobs, Han, there’s no way out of it.”Felix deadpanned from his place on the bed, his head turned to nail the man with a mischievous glint, “Trust me, I know.”

The latter’s eyes flicked to your t-shirt, tracing the outline of your breasts in the loose fabric with ease. “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right - her tits are amazing.”

“Alright, Chan and Seungmin, you two are the only ones left - make your choice!” Hyunjin demanded lightly, gesturing his hand toward your body from his seat next to you, “Tits or ass? Ass or tits? Which one is it?”

“I’m not playing this game,” the youngest of the two mumbled, his position unchanged.

“Oh, come on, Seungmin! She said it herself, it’s just for fun, she won’t take any offense to what you choose,” Felix prodded, wiggling his body next to his boyfriend, “and we won’t make fun of you if you pick something we didn’t expect.”

“Yeah, puppy,” reaching down, you threaded your fingers through his black hair, “whatever you pick is fine with me, and if anyone makes fun of you for it, they won’t get anything from me for a week.”

That roused a small chuckle from him as he moved his arm, looking up at you with soft eyes, “Really? You think you could go that long?”

“For my Seungmin? Of course. Now, which is it, baby?”

His lips quivered, struggling between forming words and keeping his solitude until he finally murmured, “I like your thighs.”

“That wasn’t even an-”

You quieted Hyunjin with a glare, “Finish that sentence and that’s the only thing you’ll be finishing near me, Hwang.”

“Aw- I wanna change my answer, her thighs are fucking amazing too!” Jisung all but wailed, practically having a full on meltdown, “When you’re eating her out and she wraps them around your head like earmuffs - they’re so warm but you can’t hear her moans when she does it so it’s just a horrible, beautiful curse!”

“No changing your answer, Sungie, you’re still team tits.” 

Now, all the attention was directed to the only one left; Chris, still leaning against the doorway of his room with an embarrassed flush on his face - nothing preparing him for this conversation that pulled him from the sanctity of his laundry run.

“Well, Chris? What do you like?” You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing, knowing full and well that everyone already knew what their boyfriend would pick.

“Ah- You’re seriously going to make me say it?!”

“Come on, Chan, we all said ours, no matter how obvious,” Changbin sent a side eye in an unbothered Minho’s direction, “some of ours may have been.”

The eldest sighed, dropping his head before bringing it up once again, “I like your ass, baby.”

Scoffing, Felix crawled across Seungmin to get closer to you, “I don’t understand how you guys can pick her ass over these,” his hand quickly found home over one of your breasts, gently squeezing the mound over your shirt and earning a shocked gasp in return, “like, how could you not want to suffocate in them?”

“Especially with how sensitive her nipples are?” Hyunjin chimed in, claiming your other breast with his larger hand, jiggling and watching the ripples from your shirt in response.

“Oh my god- The sound she makes when you suck on them?” The bed dipped with a new weight, Jisung making his way onto the bed, causing Jeongin to crawl over and straddle Seungmin. “You guys are seriously missing out.”

Changbin groaned, “It’s not like we don’t like them, we just love her ass more, there’s a difference, Ji.”

In the meantime, you couldn’t help the small sighs of pleasure escaping you as the duo continued to fondle you over your shirt, Jisung taking the hem into his hands.

“Can we, Jagi?”

You nodded happily, “You can, Sungie.”

Hyunjin and Felix pulled back as he lifted your shirt up and off, tossing it off the edge of the bed without a care in the world - why would he, when your tits were on display for him and the men that admired them?

“Why don’t we all take the chance to really admire our favorite parts about you, my muse?” 

Hyunjin’s sultry voice easily floated through the air, the hidden implications more than enough for the atmosphere to ignite with lust.

“Are you ready, angel?”

You blinked up at Felix with dazzling eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips, “Of course, Lixie.”

In the background, you could hear the familiar sounds of panted breaths and the rustling of clothing, but you wouldn’t dare to turn your head from the scene in front - or, rather, above you. 

Hyunjin took the role of straddling your torso while Felix and Jisung kneeled at the sides of your head without even a hint of the clothing that once covered their bodies.

“Innie, can you pass me the lube?”

Jeongin broke from Seungmin’s lips with a groan, narrowing his eyes, “Why can’t you just spit on it, Hyung? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

“Because I asked you to? If I felt like spitting I would’ve done it already,” Hyunjin spoke matter-of-factly, catching the glimpse of Jisung guiding his dick into your mouth from the corner of his eye, “don’t be a smartass!”

“Smarta-”

The youngest was unceremoniously flipped onto his back, the black haired singer reaching into the nightstand and tossing over a bottle of lube with a huff.

“Seriously, it was never that big of a deal, you brat.”

Snatching up the tube, Hyunjin wasted no time in squeezing a generous amount between the valley of your breasts, humming out a small apology when you jumped at the cold gel on your skin.

“Forget what I said,” Jisung moaned softly, watching the way your cheeks puffed and hollowed with each drag of his cock, “your mouth is my favorite part.”

Pulling off of him with a pop, you pumped him with your right hand and tossed him a teasing smirk, “You’re still team tits, Sungie.”

Turning your head, you eagerly welcomed Felix’s dick with an eager tongue lapping at the precum beading the tip before taking him in one fell swoop.

“That doesn’t take away from the fact that your mouth is fucking amazing, sunshine.” Felix groaned, bringing a hand to cup your cheek as he lightly thrust into your leisurely bobs.

“Especially for the fact that we’re here for these.” Hyunjin’s lube covered hands squeezed your breasts around his length, the swells positively shining as they sandwiched his cock in an unparalleled warmth.

It wasn’t long until an unplanned rhythm was found between the four of you; alternating between blowjobs and handjobs for the sunshine twins while a certain artist busied himself with a simple rhythm of humping your chest.

In the meantime, Changbin managed to swap positions with Minho for the chair, sitting the second eldest in his lap and littering slow kisses paired with sharp nips along the length of his neck while he watched the show before them.

“Chan, you’re not going to just stand there the whole time, are you?” Minho mused with a raised eyebrow, noting the way the eldest hadn’t even moved a muscle from his spot near the door.

Chris hesitated for a moment before shaking his head, “No, but I’m doing laundry - I don’t wanna get sidetracked and forget about it in the wash, you know?”

There was a disinterested hum followed by a huff he knew all too well, and he found himself pushing off of the doorway with a breathless laugh.

“You have such a way with words, you know that?”

Smirking, Minho shrugged, “I know, it’s a talent.”

Standing in front of the two - and inadvertently blocking the once flawless view - Chris planted his hands on the armrests of the chair before leaning down to catch Minho's lips in a slow kiss, just to part a moment later to do the same with Changbin over his shoulder.

“A-Ah- Tighten your hand a little, Jagi.”

“You have hands,” Hyunjin panted, licking his lips as he watched his pink tip repeatedly disappear and reappear, “help her out- fuck, Lix…”

The blond hummed against his neck, licking at a blossoming hickey, “‘M sorry, just feels so good.”

“Hyune, move your hand a bit.”

Abiding the request, Hyunjin slid his hand to the outer swell of your breast while Jisung licked his fingers before easily finding their way to your nipple, gently rolling the nub between his finger and thumb.

The moan you let out was instantly muffled by Felix’s cock, which in turn made him grit out a shivering groan, “F-Fuck, I’m gonna come soon.”

“M-Me too,” Jisung nodded frantically, eyes trained on the way his hand enveloped yours as he fucked your fist, “gonna paint those pretty tits of yours, Jagi.”

It only took a handful of strokes before Felix was drawing from your mouth with frantic breaths, Jisung slipping from your soiled hand to take over the rest of the job as they both aimed for your chest.

“God, look at how gorgeous they look wrapped around Jinnie’s dick.”

“They were just made to have a dick between them, huh?”

You groaned helplessly, bringing your hands to cover Hyunjin’s and squish your breasts together more, “C-Come on, show mommy how much you love her tits.”

If there was one thing to get them to fall, it was that title - and, like a harp string being plucked, they both came with a sharp gasp and a guttural groan, cum spraying across your breasts and a few drops even landing on your fingers.

Hyunjin shivered above you, eyebrows drawing together with the silver eyebrow piercing catching the glint of the light.

“I can see you’re close, Hyune,” squeezing his hands lightly, you watched as Jisung and Felix flocked to him, hands wandering his chest while lips danced along his shoulders and neck, “come for Miss, my prince, make a mess of me.”

A choked moan fell past his lips as his hips stuttered before he lifted himself onto his knees and came against your breasts, his cum joining the mess of the other two with ease and creating an intricate pattern of white along your skin.

Jisung dipped down to lick a fat stripe through the cum, collecting as much as he could onto his tongue before pulling Felix in for a beautifully messy kiss above you - then repeated the process with Hyunjin, leaving you in a state of horny awe.

“Seungmin, you’re up next.” Felix called happily, swiping his thumb along your breast before presenting it to your lips and watched as you eagerly licked it clean. “You’re so kinky.”

You stifled a laugh, giving the pad of his thumb a soft kiss, “You’re one to talk.”

The trio moved away to make room for the thigh connoisseur, watching as he untangled himself from Jeongin and shuffled between your legs - your pajama shorts and underwear having already met the same fate as your t-shirt moments ago.

“I… I don’t think I’m gonna last long,” he mumbled quietly, a strawberry blush turning his ears as he nudged the leaking head of his cock against the plush of your inner thigh. “Might’ve pushed it a bit too close with Innie.”

“That’s more than okay, pup,” reaching your hand out, you grabbed the lube before handing it to him, “if it bothers you, you can always have a round two later, okay?”

Seungmin nodded dutifully, taking the lube from you while tapping your legs, prompting you to lift them both and lean them on his chest; pouring a generous amount of lube in the palm of his hand to coat around his length.

With a bit of maneuvering, he had both of your calves resting on his right shoulder with his dick nestled in the tight space between your thighs and just above your pelvis - if you focused hard enough, you could feel the heat of his balls against the lips of your pussy.

“M-Mm, fuck…” Wrapping his right arm around your legs, his left hand went down to grip the outside of your thigh, squeezing the flesh as he jutted his hips forward with a quiet moan.

You watched on as he fucked your thighs in quick, sharp thrusts, brown eyes fogged and unfocused as he began to chase the high that was undoubtedly close.

“Good puppy, my good puppy - love my thighs so much, hm? Maybe one of these days I should get you to hump one, would you like that?”

You could clock the faint twinkle in his eye from a mile away, catching the subtle pout of his lips as his body rocked against yours without rhyme but with the sole reason of finishing.

His blush now crawled across his face, tinting the apples of his cheeks as his eyes found yours, “Really?”

Humming, you flexed your thighs, “Really, pup, I’d love to watch you ride me.”

He whimpered, blunt nails digging into your skin as his head dropped to nip at your ankle, “W-Want that, bub - want it so bad.”

“Then it’s yours, Minnie. I’m all yours.”

The next thrust forward had ropes of white streaking up the length of your stomach, breathless moans hidden behind firmly pressed lips as Seungmin shook against your legs, tensing and shaking with each wave until he finally relaxed with a shaky breath.

“You okay, pup?”

Nodding, he gave you a soft smile, “Yeah, but you better not forget your promise.”

You laughed, accepting a kiss to your ankle as a parting gift as he moved away from you and into the arms of a lounging Hyunjin - the comment of him being “disgustingly sweaty”, and Hyunjin’s response of “Then get off of me!”, not going unnoticed in the process.

Turning your gaze to the ceiling, a knowing smile grew on your lips, “Do I even have to ask who’s going next?”

“Nope!” Sliding into view came your darling bread, a smug grin on his lips as his face hovered over yours, “You don’t even have to guess, I’m already here.”

Bringing your hand to his jaw, you lightly scratched your nails under his chin, “Of course you are, maknae - so, how do you want me? Doggy style? Reverse cowgirl? Some secret third position I have yet to learn?”

Judging from the sparkle of his eyes the instant the second option left your lips, he had his decision already cut out and you laughed at his inability to be discreet.

“Alright, I guess this is to make up for slacking on leg day, isn’t it?”

Jeongin rolled onto his back, watching as you straddled him with ease, “You’d have to ask Changbin Hyung about that, Noona - you were the one who suggested it anywa- ah!”

You didn’t need to waste time in teasing yourself as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, lining it up with your severely neglected pussy before sinking down in one fell swoop - a satisfied moan leaving your lips.

“O-Oh god, maybe this wasn’t a good idea…”

“Oh? And what makes you say that, baby?”

Of course, you already knew the answer judging from the way his calves tensed, his toes curled and - less externally obvious - the way his dick twitched inside of your warm walls.

“Noona, please-”

“Have a little too much fun with Minnie, huh? Got yourself all excited while you were waiting?” Clicking your tongue, you rolled your hips teasingly, “I bet you were touching yourself while Seungmin was having his turn, weren’t you, baby boy?”

He whined, tossing his head back with a groan, “Just- Just give me a minute, I swear I’ll last!”

Humming, you waited a few seconds before shaking your head, “Sorry, Innie, if you come early then that’s just how it is - just lay back and enjoy the view, okay? This is what you wanted, remember?”

With no other choice, the sounds of your joined moans soon filled the room as you rode him with one goal on your mind.

“Fuck, look at that view…” Neither one of you were aware of Changbin’s sudden presence beside the bed as he leaned beside Jeongin, basking in the sight of your ass jiggling with each bounce. “I’ll never get over it.”

“I-” Jeongin whimpered, short huffs of breaths escaping him, “T-This is the first time-”

“-she’s ridden reverse cowgirl?! IN-ah, what were you waiting for?!”

“It’s not that he was waiting,” you laughed breathlessly, though the clench of your pussy earned a moan in its wake, “he was just too excited to try everything else that normal positions were at the bottom of his list.”

“What a shame, wasting his chance like this.”

Lifting your head, you were now met with the sight of Minho directly in front of you, keen eyes unblinking as he took you in with a smirk.

“Is it a waste, Min?” Slowing your bounces to languid strokes, your head tilted prettily to the side, “I’d like to think of it as an introduction to what future chances would be like.”

This time, his smirk reached his eyes, brown irises sparkling with amusement, “You naughty kitten.” His hand cupped your cheek as he dipped down to steal a kiss, nipping at your bottom lip in the process.

You preened at the sensation, but the moan that followed came from the firm grip on the swell of your ass cheek, the hand and the pressure stemming from two different forms of familiarity.

“See? What did I tell you?” Changbin smirked, squeezing his hand over Jeongin’s to tighten his grip on your ass, “You can watch all you want, but the real fun is in touching.”

The younger groaned out a desperate sound, “‘M g-gonna-”

At the hint of his confession, you forfeited the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours for the opportunity to go back to bouncing on Jeongin’s dick without abandon, fisting the sheets to distract from the unyielding burn in your thighs.

“-a-ah- p-please- N-Noona, oh god, I-” He cut himself off with a choked gasp, hips canting as his orgasm took him by storm.

A hum of satisfaction vibrated past your lips as his warmth filled you, stilling to spare him the overstimulation for the time being. “Feels so good baby, you never disappoint.”

Once the incessant twitching of his cock died down, you lifted yourself off of his lap, shivering at the sensation of his load slowly seeping out of you and dribbling back onto his spent dick.

“So,” you breathed, looking between the two men currently surrounding you and shooting a glance toward Chris, “who’s next?”

The answer to that question was a very smug Minho, excitement thrumming through your veins as he nodded his head toward the edge of the bed - the silent command leading you to find yourself to where you currently were now.

“Minho!”

Your nails clawed at the sheets, the mattress rocking along with your body as the black haired man fucked into you like a man possessed.

“It’s only fair that someone gives you your first orgasm of the night, kitten,” he drawled, thumbs digging into the small of your back as he held you impossibly tighter, “why wouldn’t I make sure that it’s me giving it to you?”

Your body couldn’t decide between attempting to run away from his powerful thrusts, or submit yourself to the fiery pleasure that hoped to consume you, until you felt the warmth of his hands sliding up your back, past your shoulder blades, and along your forearms.

Like a slab of clay for him to mold, he maneuvered your arms behind your back and pinned them with one hand, the other going back to its home on your hip as he aimed long, precise thrusts to a spot he was well acquainted with.

The side of your face melted into the mattress, tears of pleasure blurring your vision, as any sound you’d hoped to make dissolved into hiccuped breaths and encouraging mewls.

Minho grunted, clenching his jaw as he felt the telltale signs of your orgasm begin to shine through, “That’s it, kitten, give it to me.”

Your legs trembled, pussy fluttering and clenching with each passing second until your body tensed with a cry of his name falling from your spit-shined lips.

He welcomed the new wave of arousal coating his dick and adding to the already sloppy glide of your cunt, wet slaps sounding through the room as he fucked you through your high with a breathless chuckle.

“There it is.”

Grip tightening on your wrists, his hips met yours a number of times before he pulled out with a gasp, jacking himself off with his free hand and coming along the curve of your ass and thighs - much to your delirious chagrin.

“Why…?” You whined breathlessly, wiggling your hips for further emphasis - not that he needed it.

Minho released your wrists to land a swift smack to your unsoiled ass cheek, a satisfied smile curling his lips from the squeak you let out. “Because I wanted to - you still have two people to fill you the way you wish, kitten, let’s not get too greedy, hm?”

There was a slew of giggles and chuckles from the onlookers, and you tried your best to send them your best glare, though your efforts were in vain as you felt a pair of hands caressing your thighs.

“Get up on the bed for Binnie, bunny.”

You obeyed with no hesitation, already knowing which position you would be set in for the remainder of the session as you turned to tuck a pillow under your chin, bringing your knees up and out to sit your hips high in the air and dip your spine into a fine arch - pretty and presentable.

“God,” Changbin groaned, scrambling to fill in the space behind you as fast as he could, “I’ve been waiting so long to get you like this, bunny, you would not believe.” His firm hands instantly went to cup your ass, spreading your cheeks further and sucking in a breath at your glistening hole. “So fucking pretty…”

“Binnie.”

Your insistent, warning whine hadn’t fallen on deaf ears, and he wasted no time in notching the fat head of his dick to your fluttering walls.

“Alright, bunny, deep breaths for me.”

Of course, you already knew the drill, having grown custom to the mind numbingly delicious stretch only he was capable of giving you, but the reminder never failed to stir the swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

With a deep inhale, your slow exhale was followed by him sinking past your walls, each inch slowly stretching your cunt around his girth.

It wasn’t long until he was fully seated inside of you, and with warm hands kneading the flesh of your ass, he drew his hips back before snapping them forward, punching a moan from the depths of your lungs.

Even if you were still tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, you were still begging for more with each whimpered moan and choked gasp as your body seemed to melt deeper into the arch you had set.

“Look at you, can’t get enough of us, can you?” Changbin goaded, though his tone was soft and warm, “It’s okay, we can’t get enough of you either, bunny.” He lifted his hand to slap the swell of your ass, before gripping the flesh, “You and this ass of yours.”

A shiver shot down your spine as his hand slipped, his thumb caressing the inside of your cheek and just barely grazing your asshole - a temptation that had shown its face among a few of the boys before, but was never fully dwelled on by them nor yourself.

“I’m curious, bunny,” he hummed, slowing his fast thrusts for laxed, deeper ruts, “would you ever let one of us use this other pretty hole of yours?” Sliding his hand further, he pressed his thumb against the tight ring just enough to burn the fantasy into a possible reality, “Would you let Binnie fuck this pretty ass?”

You nodded frantically, your hands gripping onto the poor pillow below you, “Y-Yes! Yes! I-It’s all yours, Binnie - want it so bad!”

His signature, triumphant laugh filled the room as he tossed a glance to his boyfriends, “Hear that? I get first dibs.”

“You can’t just ask her questions like that!” Jeongin groaned, a stern pout set on his lips, “She agrees to anything if you fuck her long enough!”

“Yeah, how else do you think Felix managed to stay up late enough for his Apex tournament that one time?”

“How am I always being brought up here?!” The blond scoffed as he lightly shoved Hyunjin, crossing his arms over his lithe chest, “But, I mean, yeah - three orgasms can get you a pretty good deal.”

Jisung hummed inquisitively, before narrowing his eyes, “But did you win?”

“He won,” Minho huffed, a smirk curving the corners of his lips, “and he gave her head the next morning, I could hear her moans from the kitchen.”

Muted thumps of the headboard began to grow in frequency until a low groan interrupted the riveting conversation - Changbin hunching over your body as his muscles tensed, shivering while he filled you with his seed.

“God, fuck,” he hissed, rolling his hips against yours while your walls fluttered around him, clenching from the orgasm that was just moments away. “You’re too good to us, you know that, bunny?”

You huffed out a breathless laugh, stifling a moan as his hands massaged your lower back out of its arch for a moment of respite, “I-I’ve been told once or twice,” turning your head, sultry eyes landed on the final man of the hour, “but you guys are worth it.”

Chris flushed under the heat of your gaze, just barely catching Changbin’s teasing “Don’t break her back, Chan.”, as he climbed onto the bed and took the space previously occupied by the rapper.

“Think you can stay in this position one more time, baby?” He mused softly, caressing the warm skin of your back before gliding his hand down to the curve of your ass.

Without answering him, you spread your knees and tucked yourself into a deeper arch, wiggling your hips to further entice the man behind you.

“Yeah,” Seungmin chuckled, lazily crossing his arms over his chest, “he’s blowing her back out, it’s over.”

As much as you wanted to turn your head to respond, your train of thought flew out the window as you felt the bed dip slightly, before the pressure of Chris’s blunt tip nudged against your cunt, bumping against your clit tauntingly.

“Alright, princess,” he breathed, dragging the tip along your slit, “why don’t you give them a show for daddy, hm?”

This time, your reply came in the form of an elongated moan as he sunk into your heat, the stretch coming with ease after Changbin’s size, yet the length making your toes curl.

“Oh, god-”

There was no opportunity for a pause, not when you were miles beyond prepped and ready; the orgasm Minho previously gave you, paired with the second one Changbin gently guided you toward yet kept from tipping over, leaving you with a bubble that was ready to burst within minutes.

“F-Fuck, daddy,” you keened, pressing your hips into his own in feigned hopes of getting him impossibly deeper, “please, please fuck me.”

Chris ran his tongue over his bottom lip, eyes glued to the way your pussy wrapped around his length, as he nodded, “Hands, baby.”

A shiver of excitement shot down your spine and you complied almost immediately, using the pillow to keep your head propped up as you worked your arms behind your back, the warmth of his hand easily finding your wrists and pinning them.

With you set up to his liking, he slowly pulled out just about halfway before driving his hips forward with force, the added balance of his right foot planted on the bed adding to his power.

He was definitely going to blow your back out.

It didn’t take long for him to find the perfect rhythm, nor did it take long for the room to be filled with your high pitched moans and gasps, and the slap of your ass against his thighs - the ripples slowly, but surely, turning your limbs to jelly.

“Our perfect girl,” he gritted out, the grip on your hip and wrists tightening marginally, “letting us admire you for the beautiful gem you are - take turns with this gorgeous body of yours.”

It wasn’t news that they were constantly in awe of you, with and without your clothes on - you were the brightest star in their night sky, you were the puzzle piece they finally found to complete their lives separately and together - and they never failed to remind you of how loved you were.

“But, you know you’re so much more than that, don’t you, princess?” Chris tilted his head to catch a glimpse of your face, eyes fogged and unfocused, lips parted with endless moans tumbling through, “You’re so much more than just your body to us.”

“C-Chris!” You managed to choke out between a whimper, his loving sentiments paired with the unyielding strokes of his cock to your deepest, sweetest parts turning your brain to mush, though your body responded in the best way it could.

He hissed at the telltale clench of your walls, a shiver running down his spine as he nodded mindlessly, “Already? It’s alright, baby, you can come for me - don’t hold back, yeah? Give it to me - give it all to me.”

Your body reacted faster than your mind could at his command, your orgasm barrelling toward you at a speed that had your hands balling into fists; every muscle in your body tensing and clenching until the thread snapped with one more well angled thrust. Mouth falling open with a silent scream, the only sound you were able to hear was your own heartbeat as your vision went white.

The first thing to return to you was your hearing, the muffled thumps of your heart fading out into loud, heavy pants - though you knew for a fact that breathing wasn’t just you. The next sense to return was touch, the slightly damp sheets underneath you grounding you back to reality as your eyes fluttered open only to land on an unexpected face.

“Sungie?”

“Jagi, if I swap to ‘Team Ass’ can you do that for me, too?” Jisung’s face was ripe with blush, though his eyes were wide and wild with lust that had your abdomen clench almost painfully.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you frowned lightly, “Do what?”

“You squirted, muse,” Hyunjin murmured beside him, awe laced in his tone, “that was so fucking hot.”

Oh.

It wasn’t until you went to move your arms that you realized Chris was still keeping you pinned - and a second later you realized he was still inside of you.

“Channie?”

“I-I’m okay, I-” Relinquishing his hold on you, his hands instantly went to your hips, thumbs tracing nondescript shapes against your skin, “I just… I need a minute, ‘m sorry.”

“No, no, baby, it’s okay, take your time.” Working yourself onto your hands, your lower back eternally grateful for the relief, you took a quick scan of the empty room, “Where’d everyone else go? Did I genuinely pass out?”

“No - honestly, you were only out for like, a minute, but after you, uh, came, we started the aftercare checklist.” Hyunjin’s hand reached out to wipe away a hint of saliva at the corner of your lips, “Hannie and I are on talk-down duty, Felix is running you a bath, Jeongin’s getting you a washcloth, Seungmin is getting you water while Minho’s starting on dinner, and Changbin is getting the laundry Chan was too fucked out to get himself.”

“I’m not fucked out,” the eldest groaned as he lazily turned his head toward the artist, “it was just a really intense orgasm, alright?”

With enough energy worked up, he pulled his hips away from yours as his softening dick slipped from your pussy, a shared hiss of overstimulation escaping you both in the process.

“Holy shit… Intense is a fucking understatement, she’s dripping so much.”

You bristled at Jisung’s words, though you could feel the reality of the situation currently oozing its way down your clit and undoubtedly landing against the stained bed sheet.

“Fuck, it’s like a river… Am I allowed to be jealous right now?”

“Han, please.” Chris groaned, embarrassment evident in his tone, “We get it, I come a lot, but I really don’t know what you have to be jealous about.”

Ducking your head with a barely contained laugh, you shook your head before meeting Jisung’s stare, “Next time, you’ll be the one almost folded in half and stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey, okay?”

“I got the water, but it’s gonna cost you-” Seungmin stopped in his tracks as he rounded the bed, his eyes locking onto the mess between your legs, “What- You turned her into an overstuffed twinkie!”

“Seungmin!”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @softkissfelix, @luvyev, @luminouskalopsia, @kpopsstuffs, @luvyev, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @broken-glowsticks, @j-onedrabbles, @dawninnie, @junglyric, @piercedddriver, @sometimesleeknows, @mahklathekpopqueen

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[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 24

Word Count- 9.2k

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of death and violence, alcohol, kissing, sexual shiz, Klaus being freaky deaky (no children better be reading this)

A/n- Rebekah didn’t hook up with Damon she just hooked up with a rando after the dance!

“I’m bored,” Kol whined desperately to his siblings as they lounged in the grand living room.

Kol threw himself onto the leather ottoman, “Our sister is a strumpet, but at least she’s having fun. I need entertainment.”

Klaus narrows his eyes at his younger brother, “What are you waiting for? Go on have at it.”

“It’s no fun to go alone. Join me, Nik,” Kol leans forward with a mischievous look.

Klaus sends a bored look at him and then goes back to his sketch. Kol lets out a loud groan and stands up.

“Well, if you won’t go with me,” He taps his chin in thought, “I’m sure I can find someone to spend my afternoon with…what about that little mate of yours…Y/n, was it? Oh yes, I’m sure she’s great fun, I wonder if she’d let me-”

Kol is cut off from finishing his sentence as Klaus wraps his hand around his brother’s throat, “Finish that sentence and you’ll find yourself right back into that coffin of yours, brother. I’m sure it’s missed your company.” Kol not entirely caring for his brother’s antics, rolls his eyes, “Joking, brother,” Kol plucks Klaus’ fingers off his throat one by one, “And as you should know, you’re mate and I are now,” Kol frowns, “What do they call it now…oh yes, besties.”

Klaus’ mood gets darker the more Kol speaks. 

“That’s not true!”

Both brothers turn at the whining of their sister.

“Y/n is my best friend!”

Kol raises an eyebrow in challenge, “Really? And did she say this herself or is this another one of your delusions.”

Rebekah glares at her brother before grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at him. 

Kol quickly darts away and laughs, “Your aim is almost as bad as your taste in men sister.”

Rebekah lets out a loud whine, resulting in Klaus groaning in annoyance. 

“Enough of you two,” Klaus throws himself back down onto the couch, “I’ll put both of you back into your coffins.”

“Mother would never allow that,” Rebekah says proudly as she sits on the same couch as Klaus. 

“Join me, brother. It’s the least you could do after sticking a dagger in my heart,” Kol tries to reason with Klaus. Besides, are you truly going to spend all afternoon drawing pictures of your pretty little obsession?”

Klaus’ eyes narrow at his brother, but he knows he can’t deny the accusation of his current muse. 

With a final sigh, Klaus stands with a sound of annoyance, “Okay. Why not? I didn’t have nearly enough to drink last night what with you trying to murder Rebekah’s date.”

Klaus strolls by both of his siblings, taking the sketchbook filled with drawings of his soulmate with him.

“Yes, please go, this house has enough men rolling around in it,” Rebekah says annoyed as Kol begins to follow his brother. 

Kol turns around and smirks at his sister, “Just like you, Bekah!”

Rebekah throws her purse at him, “Good riddance, both of you.”

—

“No sir,” I try not to roll my eyes at the middle-aged man sitting at the bar in front of me, “We do not offer refunds for alcohol you’ve already drank.”

The drunk man in front of me glares, “You’re mean.”

“I’m going to be a lot meaner if you don’t pay,” I deadpan back at him and with a roll of his eyes he fishes out a stack of ones from his pocket and throws them onto the bar counter. 

“Great,” I mutter as the man drunkenly stalks away. 

“Rough day?” I continue to count the ones as I answer Ric, “I love working my ass off for minimum wage.”

Ric lets out a chuckle, “Ya I bet… But if anyone can handle a job like this it’s you, Y/n.”

I look up from the money, “Ya? And why is that?”

Ric’s upper lip twitches, “You spent an entire summer living with Damon, without killing him. Because of that, I'm pretty sure you could do anything.”

I ponder Ric’s comment and then nod, “I am a person of great strength, aren’t I?”

Ric chuckles and raises his drink in agreement at my sarcastic comment, “Very much indeed.”

A moment later, a dark-haired woman sits down next to Ric. A little too close for my liking. Since Jenna has gone to Nebraska or wherever the hell she and Jeremy went, I’ve been keeping an eye on Ric to make sure he stays away from other women. She never asked me to do this, but as a fellow girls girl, I must. 

My shoulders deflate as a customer at the other end of the bar ushers me over. As I deal with him I keep sending glances over to Ric and the mystery woman, who appear to be in a serious conversation. 

After I deal with the man, I make my way over to Ric’s area and pretend to dry some glasses. Glasses I had already dried 20 minutes prior. 

“It’s impossible to know anything about whoever stabbed you,” I overhear the woman and I raise my eyebrows up in shock, “Short, tall, left-handed, right-handed, no clue.”

Why the hell does Ric keep getting killed?!?

“Well, what about my head, why can’t I remember anything about the attack?”

“Your CT scans were clear. Maybe you were compelled to forget,” THe woman answers Ric.

“That wouldn’t be possible,” I casually chime in as if I wasn’t already listening to their conversation. Both adults turn to me with confused faces, “Y’know since Ric practically bathes in vervain. He drinks it a lot…Just like his girlfriend, Jenna. His longtime girlfriend.”

The woman furrows her eyebrows and gives me an odd look and I smile at her sweetly before turning around and going back to fucking around with the glasses.

“Wait… you think the person who did this to me was a vampire,” Ric questions quietly to the rando.

“I mean it’s the only option,” She answers and I fight the urge to ask why I vampire would stab Ric when they could just bite him, or like rip his head off. 

“Oh, come on now.”

Oh god no. 

That British accent has me tensing my shoulders and keeping my gaze towards the wall, hoping he hasn’t noticed me. 

“Let’s not go blaming the new family in town just cause you lot have got yourselves a killer at large,” I hear Klaus say to Ric and whats-her-face, “Don’t mind us. My brother and I are just here to let off some steam, right, Kol?”

Great, he brought the ankle biter. 

“Right.”

Ric and the woman are silent for a moment. “Ric, I’m going to play some pool, join me,” The woman’s voice comes out urgent and I don’t have to have eyes in the back of my head to know Ric is staring at me. 

“Oh, don’t fret Alaric,” Klaus’ voice comes mocking, “I’m not going to lay a finger on Elena’s little friend, go have fun with your girl.”

His words hit my heart like a dagger, weird how now I’m just “Elena’s friend” when yesterday you were pretty much confessing your heart and soul to me. Pun intended. 

“You alright, kid?”

Without turning around I throw a thumbs up at Ric. After a moment I hear the screeching of two stools.

Everything is quiet for a moment. 

“If it isn’t my bestie.”

Lord, give me the strength. 

I slowly turn around and face the two brothers. One watching me with an amused smirk and the other…just watches me. 

Klaus’ eyes seem to be marking every inch of my face and body as if he’s committing me to memory. 

“Ankle biter,” I retort as I wipe my hands on my apron and begin to walk to the other side of the bar. 

“Aye, where do you think you’re going,” Kol’s foxlike tone halts me, “I would very much like a drink, and my brother here…well I’m sure a drink isn’t exactly what he wants from you.”

I almost choke on my breath at Kol’s words as I turn to face him. 

“Also, what is this ankle-biter nonsense? Is that some type of term friends use for one another in this century,” Kol asks as he places his chin on his hand, watching me. 

“Ya, sure.”

Kol seems to be delighted with my answer as he shoots a smug smile towards his brother. Klaus doesn’t give him the time of day though as he keeps his eyes on me. 

“What do you want to drink, Kol,” I take a step closer to the bar as I grab a glass for him and Klaus. 

“What do you recommend, Little Doll,” Kol smiles up at me. 

“Arsonic.”

A loud laugh escapes Kol’s lips, but it’s Klaus’ light chuckle that I can’t help but fall into. 

“Oh, she’s funny,” Kol says excitedly and then turns to his brother, “Odd fate mated her to the boring brothers,” this finally catches a glare from Klaus and Kol turns back to me and leans over the bar, “I’m sure I can contact some witch friends of mine and get that bond switched over to me. We’d have so much more fun.”

“Brother, another word out of you and it’ll be your tongue that comes out of your mouth,’’ Klaus bites and I instantly take a step back. 

My movement catches the hybrid's attention and a small frown makes its way onto his face. 

Klaus’ eyes are filled with something that makes my stomach twist. I turn my attention back towards Kol who is watching Klaus and I with his signature smirk. 

“You’re getting bourbon,” I tell him as I turn and grab a bottle of liquor from the shelf behind me. 

“Oh, goodie! Second shelf alcohol,” I bite down on my lip to keep my laugh hidden from Kol’s sarcastic remark. 

I turn back around pour the brown liquid into two glasses and then place them in front of the two men. 

“Thank you, Doll,’’ Kol says cheekily as he downs the liquid in one go. He then places the glass back on the counter and uses his forefinger to tap it. 

“You know you guys are going to have to pay for this right,” I tap the bottle and raise an eyebrow at both of them, “I’m on vervain so you can’t just compel me to make it on the house.”

Kol quickly flings a hand to his heart and a look of hurt comes over his face, “You would really assume such horrible assumptions of us?”

I don’t even blink as I answer, “Yes.”

Kol’s fake-hurt look instantly drops into a smirk, “And you’d be correct. Knew you were a smart one. But, don’t you worry,” He sends a glance to his brother who is still staring at me, “Elijah and this thing have already given our siblings a rule book of things to not do when it comes to you. Compelling you is number three,” Kol holds up three fingers.

I furrow my brows in confusion as I turn to Klaus who has now found interest in his still-full glass, “Rule book? And why is compulsion only number three?!”

“Oh yes, my brothers gave a whole presentation to us last night on things we’re not allowed to do,” Kol nods thoughtfully.

“Kol, I will dagger you,” Klaus’ threat comes out harsh as he glares at his younger brother. 

Kol rolls his eyes and then leans back over the bar again and whispers to me, “We’ll chat later.’

“You will not,” Klaus says before downing his downing his drink. 

“Unlike you, Elijah says we’re allowed to speak to her,” Kol says matter-of-factly to his brother with a smirk. 

In this light, no one would even guess that these two are psychopathic vampires, right now all they’re acting like is two brothers who like to piss each other off. 

“That is because of Rebekah, you weren’t a part of the pardon.”

Kol glares at his brother. 

“Don’t listen to him, Doll,” Kol turns back to me, “I won’t let them separate us.”

I purse my lips, “Yippee.”

Kol’s eyes go towards his drink and I roll my own. Nonetheless, I raise the bourbon bottle and pour him another one. I turn to look at Klaus, who surprise surprise is already looking at me, and I raise the glass in question.

Klaus nods his head, “Thank you, Love.”

I pour another drink for Klaus and then place the bottle onto the counter, then turn away hoping to go anywhere but here. 

“Little Doll, where are you going? Stay and chat with us,” Kol’s grating voice makes me roll my eyes. 

“I’m on the clock Kol. Unlike some people,” I send looks to both of the brothers, “I actually have to work to make money.”

Kol turns to his right side and then his left, “There’s no one else here, Darling.”

I copy his movements and let outa swear when I realize that there is no one else waiting for a drink. 

“Come chat with us,” Kol pulls his wallet out of his jacket pocket and places it on the counter, “We’ll make it worth your time.”

“I’m not a prostitute, Kol.”

A low growl from Klaus sends shockwaves down my spine. 

“Don’t listen to the dog, Doll. And I’d never insinuate you were a lady of the night. And besides,” Kol’s smirk deepens, “I’ve never had to pay a woman to spend a night with me. If anything they should’ve been paying me.”

I watch in silent disbelief at Kol’s hurt expression as he finishes his sentence. And here I thought Theo was full of himself. 

“Right…”

“Ignore him, Astin Min, it’s what all my family does” Klaus’ voice pulls my attention.

A quick look of hurt covers Kol’s face and for a moment I wonder if he actually has real emotions.

“Whatever mutt.”

Nevermind. 

“Pour yourself a drink, Doll,” Kol turns to me with a smile, “On me.”

I open my mouth to reject him but Klaus speaks first.

“She doesn’t drink,” His tone comes out casual as he takes a sip of his own drink, but as his eyes meet mine I’m taken back to the night before when I told him things about myself that not even Theo knows.

“Well, that’s lame,” Kol mutters under his breath, “What else is there to do for fun around here other than drink?”

I break eye contact with Klaus and shrug my shoulders, “Pretty much nothing.”

“Then why do you live here,” Kol’s question comes off actually inquisitive, unlike his other comments.

“Ask my mother,” I mutter under my breath.

“Yikes,” Kol yips, “Are we not a fan of mummy dearest.”

I clench my fists as I think back to my mother.

“Drop it, Kol…Luv,” Klaus’ unusually soft voice sends a wave of comfort over me and I unclench my fists. 

“Would you mind,” He gestures to his finished drink.

I grab the bourbon bottle and begin refilling his drink. I notice though that instead of watching my face, like usual, he’s glaring at my hand. 

“Me too, Doll,” Kol chimes in, and after I fill his brother’s glass I fill his as well. 

“Why do you work here,” Klaus questions. 

I send him a glance and begin tapping my fingers to the song playing on the bar’s speakers, “As I said before, I need the money.”

“For what?”

I want to roll my eyes at Klaus’ questioning but when I see the honest look on his face I just shrug, “Stuff.”

Klaus’ eyebrows narrow, “Stuff? What kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know, like bills, and stuff. College savings.”

Klaus’ eyes narrow further as if he can’t grasp the concept of me having to work for this stuff, “Wouldn’t your mother be the one who pays for that stuff?”

I let out an annoyed laugh, “You would think?”

“You could quit,” Klaus’ comment makes me roll my eyes. 

“Have you not been listening? I need the money!”

Klaus leans back in his chair and sends me an annoyed look, “I’ll pay for these things.”

What is up with these Mikaelsons and wanting to financially support me??!?

“You’d pay for me,” I say skeptically, “You pay my car insurance, my car payment, my groceries, my taxes, my gas, my art supplies, my college fund, Theo’s college fund,” I list off all my expenses in annoyance.

“Without question.”

I eye Klaus for any sign of a lie, but the stern look on his face tells me everything I need to know. He’s being serious. 

I release an uncomfortable noise and look away from him, “Well, thanks…but I can do it myself.”

From my peripheral, I see Klaus lean in and rest his elbows on the counter, “Just because you can, Love, doesn’t mean you should have to.”

I feel a burning in my eyes as I consider Klaus’ words. 

“Good lord,” Kol groans, “If I’ll have to deal with this,” He gestures to Klaus and I, “For the next millenia. Might as well put me out of my misery and dagger me now.’’

Klaus sends a dark smirk to his brother, “With pleasure.”

“Oh! I remember her from last night,” Kol points off to the distance and I follow his finger towards Caroline, who has just walked in looking quite hot, “She looks like a tasty little thing.”

Klaus spares a fleeting glance at Caroline before turning back towards me, “Have at it brother,” He mutters without a care.

“Hello, Darling,” Kol calls to Caroline who strides past both men.

Caroline stops and sends a bored look to the men. Her gaze holds on Klaus’ back and a look of annoyance passes over her face.

“Join us for a drink will you,” Kol questions her and raises his glass. 

“Who’s us?”

Caroline’s words have no hold over me, but the way she keeps looking at Klaus’ back as if she wants his attention, makes an annoyance build in my chest. 

My eyes dart to Klaus momentarily and I see him send me an odd look before turning over his shoulder to glance at Caroline. The blonde vampire instantly flicks her hair over her shoulder as the hybrid looks at her and I hear Klaus let out a low chuckle. 

Caroline’s features instantly morph into annoyance again when Klaus turns back around to face me with a knowing smirk. 

“I’d rather die of thirst,” Caroline looks at Kol, “But thanks. Bye, Y/n.”

With one last glance at Klaus’ back, Caroline sends me a smile, before pretty much stomping back outside. 

“Well,” Kol turns back towards me, “Hand me that bottle, love. I’m going to go harass the locals.”

“Are you going to pay for it?”

Kol must notice my change in mood as he smirks and opens up his wallet, “Of course love. Wouldn’t want to make you mad.”

I watch in awe as Kol fishes out a handful of one-hundreds and throws them on the counter in front of him. 

“Kol, it’s a $80 bottle,” I say unbelievably.

Kol just smirks and shrugs, “With the way it tastes it better be…but the rest is your tip, Little Doll,” He reaches over the counter and grabs the bottle before standing up. He then glances at his brother, “Enjoy. Talk soon.”

I watch with my mouth open as Kol saunters over to the pool table where the woman Ric was previously talking to is standing. I turn my attention to the wad of money on the counter and quickly count it.

Eight hundred dollars. That’s a $720 tip. This is more than I’ll make in an entire month…hell two months. 

I shake my head in disbelief as a happy laugh escapes me.  

“Now that I know money makes you do that, I’ll be sure to tip you a lot.”

I look to Klaus, confused.

“What?”

Klaus looks at me with the same heartstopping look from last night, “Your smile,” He gestures to my mouth as if it’s nothing, “I rarely see you smile like that.”

Klaus’ comment has a wave of embarrassment flowing through me, “I’m not superficial or anything,” I deny as I hold the money close to me, “It’s just that…,” I pause unsure if I should continue, “This amount of money might not seem like much to you guys, but… to me, it’s life-changing. I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on if times get tough. All I have is the money I save and with all the money I spend on bills and Theo’s sports…I don’t have much left. If any at all.” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Y/n. I may have never had to worry about money, but I understand what it feels like to want something out of reach.”

I tug on my bottom lip as I nod and put my large tip into my apron pocket, “Thanks.”

Klaus smirks, “No need to thank me, love.”

I lock eyes with him and I feel a small smile making its way onto my face. Klaus appears to start to say something but the voice of a customer from the other end of the bar turns my attention.

“Of course,” I hear Klaus mutter. 

I hold up one finger to the customer and then turn back to Klaus.

Klaus nods, “Go, love. I’ll be here waiting.”

—

I let out a deep sigh as I finished dealing with a rush of customers. Normally when dealing with drunk people my anxiety level is only at 100 but with the everlasting stare I felt from Klaus the entire time my anxiety is now at a whopping 100,000.

“Do you need a refill,” I finally make my way over to Klaus who hasn't moved from his chair. 

“I’m alright, Love,” The side of his lip twitches as he looks at me, “I do wonder though why get a job working as a bartender when it’s clear how much you loathe drunk people.”

I bring my hand up to my neck and rub out the tension. Klaus's eyes follow my movement and his normal bright blue seems to darken. 

“I um… Don’t usually work as a bartender. But, someone called in sick so I covered for them.”

Klaus’ eyes make their way back up to my face and he nods in understanding.

“When do you get off?”

I glance down at the watch on my wrist and sigh, “Thankfully, only 30 more minutes.”

Klaus seems to be happy with my response.

“Great. What are you doing after this?”

I narrow my eyes at the hybrid, “Why do you ask?”

Klaus's lips morph into a smirk and he leans back and shrugs his shoulders, “Asking for a friend.’’

I let out a small laugh, “Right, of course. Because as I know you have so many of those.”

Klaus’ eyes narrow at my jab and I laugh again. 

“Tell your friend that I have a date.”

Klaus’ smirk drops. 

“Who?”

Klaus’ instant change in attitude startles me. Long gone is his casual demeanor, now replaced by something darker. 

“What?”

At my question, Klaus leans in and practically glares at me, “Who is your date?”

I try not to let Klaus’ attitude freak me out as I lean into him so our faces are a few inches apart, “The leftover lasagna I have in my freezer at home.”

Klaus’ face instantly morphs into annoyance, “Are you serious right now?”

I shrug, “I never joke about pasta.”

Klaus runs a hand over his face, “Y/n…careful.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, “Why?”

Klaus takes his hand away from his face and instead brings it up to run a finger along my jawline. I inhale an involuntary breath as he watches me with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“You need to be careful because if I ever do find out you were to go on a date with another man,” My breath comes out shallow as he leans in so close our noses are practically touching, “I’d find him…rip all of his limbs off and then,” His eyes trail down to my lips, “I’d ravage you in his blood. So every time after that, every time a man even glances your way…all you’ll be able to think about is the feeling of me on top of you.”

I let out a squeak. A fucking squeak. 

I can’t seem to find my words, which only seems to please Klaus.

“You…you,” I try to shove away any unwanted thoughts as I look a the man before me, “You’re not allowed to get jealous…we’re not even together. Like I talked with Elijah about, we’re going to be just friends for right now.”

Klaus lets out a loud laugh.

“Friends?!”

I furrow my brows at the tone in his voice.

“Y/n love,” Klaus meets my eye, “My brother may try to fool you and himself with that silly notion, but know this…you and I,” He points from himself to me, “Will never be just friends. Friends don’t think of each other the way you and I think of one another.”

I shake my head in denial, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Klaus tilts his head, “No? So that death glare you were sending your blood friend while she was trying to get my attention was nothing?”

God, I don’t know if I want to punch him or kiss him.

“Just to let you know though, you have no reason to be jealous. No other woman could sway my gaze away from my little muse.”

I feel my face heat at his confession and I open my mouth to try to deny him again but a piercing pain makes me release a loud gasp. 

I feel my knees buckle as I clutch my heart.

“Y/n!” I think I can hear Klaus’ frantic voice but with the searing pain, it’s kind of hard to focus on anything.

I’m soon enveloped in a warm embrace as I feel hands go under my arms and my knees, bringing me into a bridal-style pose. 

“I’ve got you, Love.”

I try to focus on the warmth of Klaus instead of my chest, but it’s kind of hard when it hurts like a motherfucker. 

A rush of cold air hits my face, and I think we must be outside now. 

“I’ve got to set you down for a moment, my love. I’ve got to go kill your friends momentarily.”

I try to open my eyes when I feel myself being placed on cold ground and I think I can see Stefan and Damon fighting with Klaus. 

After a moment I feel a weight being lifted off my chest and I no longer feel the stabbing pain. Thank fuck. 

“I should’ve killed you months ago,” I lift my head to see Klaus standing in front of me protectively and Stefan and Damon a few feet away from him looking disheveled. I lock eyes with Damon, and his eyes narrow as he looks at me for a moment before turning back toward Klaus. 

“Do it. That’s not gonna stop Esther from killing you.”

The fuck?

“What did you say about my mother?”

I watch with bated breath as Klaus stalks toward the eldest Salvatore.

“You didn’t know I was friends with your mummy? Yeah, we have a lot in common. She hates you as much as I do.”

“Demon, you fucking idiot,” I cough out, as I try to sit up against the stone wall. 

Klaus rushes towards him but is stopped by the sound of Elijah’s voice. 

Yay, Lijah. 

“Leave him!”

Klaus, Damon, and I, both turn to look up the stone staircase where Elijah stands. 

“We still need him, Niklaus.”

Klaus takes a step closer to his brother, “What did mother do? What did she do, Elijah?”

Elijah starts walking down the stairs and as he gets to the bottom step he unbuttons his jacket and takes it off. 

Why is this dude stripping right now?

“You’re shaking,” Elijah’s eyes meet mine and he reaches out his jacket for me to take. The cold look he had on his face, moments ago is gone and replaced with a sorrowful look as he gives me a once-over.

Oh. He's being chivalrous and here I’m calling him a stripper. My bad.

I reach out a hand, and as I catch a glimpse of its shaking I now just realize how right Elijah is. I try to muster up a small smile of thanks as I grab the jacket from him and place it over my shoulders. Elijah nods once before turning back and striding over the Damon.

“You tell me where the witches are or I’ll have my sister kill Elena right now.”

“What?!”

I feel my heart drop in my stomach at Elijah’s words and I push on the wall to stand up on wobbly legs. 

“Elijah, what the hell are you talking about?!” For the very first time since meeting him, Elijah ignores me. 

“You told me we had until after 9,” Damon says and I shake my head in confusion. 

“I’m sure Rebekah would be more than happy to start her work early.’’

Elijah’s words send waves of fear through me. 

A look of fear comes over Damon's face and he tries to rush past Elijah but Elijah halts him with a hand to his chest.

“And one last thing you should know. I see you have procured a center fondness for Y/n,” At Elijah’s comment Damon’s eyes meet mine, “As you may or may not know Y/n is my soulmate. As well as my brothers. With that being said if either one of us were to die…Y/n would shortly follow. Just thought you should know.”

Tears begin welling in my eyes as I watch Elijah. Damon looks at Elijah and Klaus, to see if either one of them is bluffing but when looking at both of their grim expressions he clenches his jaw. Damon pushes past Elijah, grabs Stefan, and begins to walk up the stairs. He stops though, momentarily and turns to look over his shoulder. We lock eyes and after a moment he shakes his head harshly and speeds away with his brother. 

Tears stream down my face as I stare at the spot Damon was in only moments ago. 

“Elskan,” Elijah’s soft voice comes from beside me and I flinch.

I take 3 large steps away and I stare wide-eyed at him.

“Do NOT come near me,” I raise an accusing finger at him and shrug off his coat from my shoulders. 

“Elskan, please you don’t understand,” Elijah raises his hands and tries to step closer to me but takes another step away. He frowns at my movement but still stops moving. 

“Understand what, Elijah!? That you’re threatening to kill my best friend?! Or that you’re using me as fucking leverage!”

It’s Elijah’s turn to flinch as I muster whatever strength I have left to yell at him. 

“Elena is innocent! And I thought you were better than this to use my a fucking leverage against my friends!”

Elijah shakes his head, “You’re so-called innocent friend made a deal with my mother to rid my entire family of this earth.”

I shake my head in denial but Elijah continues. 

“I asked Miss. Gilbert to be honest with me and she lied straight to my face. She was willing to let my entire family die, Y/n. But, I’m not. Especially when it means that you will also perish.”

“Elena would never do anything to hurt me,” I shake my head a wipe away the tears flowing down my face. 

“Exactly… that is why I told Damon what would happen to you if my siblings and I were to die.”

Elijah begins to take another step toward me but he is interfered by Klaus.

A snarl leaves Elijah’s lips and I back up to the point where my back is now pressed into the wall. 

“Give her space, brother,” I hear Klaus. Klaus turns over his shoulder to look at my quivering form and I see Elijah’s angry expression hinder as he looks at me. 

“What the bloody hell happened?”

I whip around with teary eyes to see a groaning Kol, walk down the steps, with a look of anger on his face. 

He looks at his brothers but when they don’t give him the time of day, he turns to me. His angry expression dims into confusion when he notices my tear-stained face. 

“Which one of you did this?”

I’m shocked by the angry tone Kol directs at his brothers. 

“Not now Kol,” Elijah glares at his younger brother, who glares back at him. 

“Am I going to die tonight?” My quiet voice catches all three men’s attention and they turn to me. 

“I won’t let that happen, love,” Klaus takes a step towards me but I move around him and find myself standing behind Kol. 

Klaus seems hurt by my action but I honestly don’t give a flying fuck right now.

“What will happen to Theo if I die,” I feel my chest hurt as I mutter to myself. My body begins to shake and I blink rapidly as my vision goes in and out. I try to catch my breath but I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Oh God, I’m suffocating. 

Warm hands press themselves to my face and I think I can hear Klaus’ voice through the ringing that is going through my head. Klaus’ voice is gone though as the ringing in my head gets louder and my breaths get shorter. 

My breathing completely halts as a weight presses itself onto my lips.

I open my eyes and realize that Klaus is pressing his lips to mine. Again. 

I’m practically knocked out of the panic attack I was in as I back away quickly from Klaus who watches my every move. 

My eyes fling from Klaus to Kol who is watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow, and then I look to Elijah who now won’t meet my eye. 

“Well, now that that is done…I’d like very much to not die today so let’s get this show on the road.”

I look towards Kol who eyes me for a moment before wrapping me under his arm and begins walking me up the stairs. 

I go to take a step but my knees buckle and I begin to fall. 

Thankfully, Kol wraps his arm around my waist and uses his strength to pretty much carry me up the stairs, “Don’t worry love. I’ve got you.”

I look up at him and find myself beginning to tear up again, “Thank you.”

Kol looks down at me and something shifts in his eyes momentarily before he looks forward and smirks, “What are friends for?”

—-

I’m now trudging through a cold, windy ass forest to go stop my soulmate's deranged mother from killing us all. Fantastic. Fuck I’m hungry. 

Klaus, Elijah, and Kol walk ahead of me a few paces as I trudge behind. Kol offered to carry me the way but not wanting to feel like a damsel I denied him. Now as my aching muscles scream at me, I regret it. 

Thankfully, I warm orange light can be seen from up ahead.

Elijah stops and turns to me, “You should stay here. We’ll handle this.”

I glare at Elijah and walk past him and the other two men, “Ya, because you three have been so good at handling things so far,” I spit. 

I try to forget the pain as I march towards the open center of the woods where Esther stands with Finn in a circle of fire and salt. 

Sigmund Freud, you would’ve loved these two.

Elijah comes to stand on my right, Klaus on my left and Kol walks behind them to stand right beside Klaus. 

“My sons, come forward,” Esther says, and god I’ve never wanted to throw a punch at a woman more in my entire life. 

“Stay beside me,” Finn puts his hand out to his mother and I frown at him. 

“It’s okay. They can’t enter.”

“Ya, so why don’t you stop hiding behind your magic and come over here bitch,” I bite at her and I hear Kol snigger. 

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid we haven’t properly met, my dear. I do want you to know I don’t blame you for your anger. I am incredibly sorry that fate has put you with my sons.”

The flames around Esther and Finn engulf and I feel the warmth spread across my cold face. I feel a slight tug on my elbow and Klaus and Elijah come to stand in front of me. 

“Go fuck yourself, Esther.”

“That’s lovely,” Kol says as he looks at the flames, “We’re stuck out here while the favorite son plays sacrificial lamb. How pathetic you are, Finn.”

“Be quiet, Kol,” Esther stops him, “Your brother knows virtue you cannot even imagine.”

“Whatever you think of us killing your own children would be an atrocity.”

Esther shakes her head at Elijah’s words.

“My only regret is that I did not let you die a thousand years ago.”

“Enough,” Klaus exhausts, “All this talk is boring me. End this now, Mother or I’ll send you back to hell.”

A smirk comes onto my face at Klaus’ words. 

“For a thousand years I’ve been forced to watch you; felt the pain of every victim; suffered while you shed blood. Even you, Elijah, with your claim to nobility you’re not better. All of you you’re a curse on this Earth stretched out over generations. If you’ve come to plead for your life I’m sorry. You’ve wasted your time.”

“And what of Y/n,” The mention of my name has me looking at Elijah who points his finger at me, “A girl who is nothing but caring, pure, and good of heart. And yet what? You burden her with death. She does not deserve this mother. She is good… I am asking you…do not harm the woman I love.”

Elijah’s eyes lock with mine and the emotions hidden in them pull something in me I didn’t know existed. 

“Yes, she is innocent. But for how long? How long before your promised immortality results in her death or her transition into a monster like you all? Fate has already given his girl the hand of death. It is better I give her the mercy of a quick one now.”

A wave of anger I’ve never felt before exudes me as I push past Klaus and Elijah and stand at the ring of salt, heat from the fire be damned. 

“You are unbelievable!”

“Excuse me?”

“You sit on your high horse hiding behind your poor son, while you degrade and belittle your other children! Instead of loving them for their faults, you have condemned them to think of themselves as nothing more than monsters. Yes, they have lived a thousand years, and yes they have spilled blood! But who the fuck wouldn’t!? I haven’t known any of them very long but I am sure that these so-called monsters you see as your children are not the people I see before me right now,” I point to Finn who watches me with a cold expression, “Finn for example follows you dutifully because that’s all he knows! It is all he’s been allowed to know! You pushed this idea that he and his siblings are all monsters who deserve nothing and yet here he stands ready to die at your altar for your approval! Finn was betrayed by his siblings for almost a thousand years and when he’s finally awoken I bet you just jumped at the fact that he would cling to the first sign of care and love anyone would show him, didn’t you,” I accuse the glaring woman in front of me and I look as Finn’s gaze turns to his mother, “A woman trying to sacrifice her own son isn’t what he needed Esther, he needed a mother. And what about Kol,” I whip around and point at the boy next to me, “Yes, I’ve only known him two days and he’s already a pain in my ass, but even in those two days he’s shown me more care than my own father or mother have ever shown me! And Klaus…,” I stop and make eye contact with Klaus who is watching me with an unreadable expression, “God…Esther, you are a pathetic excuse for a woman and mother. How many times did you excuse Mikael’s behavior? When Klaus came crying to you in pain, how many times did you just patch him up and then wait with bated breath until the next time he came to you needing help again? I have a mother like you, you know. And I love her because she’s my mother…but I also hate the ground she walks on because she’s an idiotic woman who was too scared to leave a man who caused nothing but pain for her children. And after all of that, you criticize Elijah’s attempts at being a better person?! You just went on and on about them being monsters but the second one of them tries to change you disparage him? Right now I’m pissed off at Elijah, but even though I am that doesn’t stop me from thinking that he is one of the best people I have ever met in my 18 years of life. Before I met him, I was nothing,” I say and I can see my vision start to blur with tears, “I was a quiet girl who nobody cared for. I woke each day waiting for life to be done with me, just as I was done with it. But then…,” I look to Elijah whose eyes are filled with nothing but pure devotion, “I met a man who did something I never thought anyone would ever be able to do…breathe. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t holding my breath around everyone. The day I met Elijah everything changed for me. Meeting him was the best day of my life…and also the first day I truly started living. So don’t you dare for a second blame your mistakes on them! You made your bed now fucking lie in it, Esther.”

 Esther’s glare is harsh but nothing could sway the rage that flows through my body as I stare at the bitch in front of me. 

Esther’s glare instantly shifts into fear and I am pulled back by Kol as the flames around the circle begin to flicker. 

“No! Sisters, do not abandon me!”

Esther’s yells are useless as the flames around us flare up and Kol covers my body with his own. After another moment the heat of the flames is gone.

I glance up at Kol and send him a smile and he nods.

Klaus, Elijah, Kol, and I stand together as we look at the unlit circle where I stone-faced Finn and a frightened Esther stand.

“Finn,” Esther grabs her son's arm, “We must leave now.”

Finn looks down at his mother and then his gaze falls onto me. 

“You’re your own person Finn. Peculiar…but still,” I smile at him and his chest puffs out. 

Finn shrugs out his mother’s hold and shakes his head at her. 

“Finn, what are you doing?”

I feel a sick smirk come onto my face as I look at Esther’s scared expression. 

“I have lived for a thousand years mother, and yet I have spent none of those feeling alive. I think I deserve the chance to.”

I can’t help the giant smile that I feel across my face at Finn’s words. Hell ya, brother!

“Finn you have no idea what you’re talking about! Don’t let this insolent little harlot,” She gestures to me wildly, “Sway you from the plan!”

A flash of motion catches my eye and I let out a yelp as I watch Esther’s head get swiped off her body. 

Elijah stands before his mother’s dead body with a grim expression on his face, “No one is allowed to insult, Y/n. Not even you, mother.”

I blink as I stare at Esther’s decapitated body. 

“Well, mommy dearest is dead again.”

I look up to Kol whose attention goes from his mother’s body to Finn.

“You absolute fool,” Kol bites at Finn, and all three brothers turn to glare at the eldest Mikaelson.

Without thinking I rush in front of Finn and put a hand out stopping his brothers. 

“Off limits!”

“Excuse me?!”

Kol stares wildly at me as if I have three heads. 

“Yep. Just like you and me kol, Finn and I also have our own deal,” I look back towards Finn who looks at me confused before nodding along, “So if you dagger him, I’ll never speak to the three of you again.”

“I can live with that,” Kol mutters not taking his eyes off Finn.

“That’s fine…then that means our deal no longer stands, ankle biter. Tell me,” I smirk at Kol, “How many moth balls does that coffin of yours collect a year?”

Kol turns his glare from his brother to me, but I hold it. 

“If anything I think you all owe Finn an apology. I mean Kol you’re pissed off for being daggered away for a hundred years, and yet you hold no sympathy for your brother who was daggered for ten times that?!”

Kol glare drops slightly as he thinks for a moment before rolling his eyes. 

“I take it back…I wouldn’t want to be your mate.”

“Right back at you.”

With one final look at his brother, Kol speeds off into the dark forest. 

My attention goes to Elijah and Klaus and I raise an eyebrow in challenge at them. 

“What’s it going to be, boys?”

Elijah’s eyes don’t leave mine as he addresses his eldest brother, “Leave Finn.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” I hear Finn whisper to me before he also speeds off into the night.

I look a the two men before me and let out a shaky breath. 

“Soooooooo…..”

“Did you mean what you said?”

I look at Elijah, “That I’m pissed off at you…yes.”

Elijah shakes his head, “Y/n…”

I rub a hand down my face and nod, “Yes. Every word.”

I don’t have time for my hand to move away from my face when I feel two strong arms wrap themselves around me in an embrace. 

I release a shaky breath as I feel Elijah use one hand to grip my waist and the other to hold the back of my head. 

I know I’m not much of a hugger…but damn this feels nice. 

“Thank you.”

Elijah’s soft voice makes me almost forget I’m mad at him…almost. 

“You’re welcome. But, I’m still pissed at you.”

“I know, Elskan,” Elijah says as he leans back and runs a hand through my hair, getting it out of my face. 

A cough interrupts us and I glance over Elijah’s shoulder to Klaus who is watching us with a glare. 

I step away from Elijah, who grunts in disapproval. 

“So, I’m glad we didn’t die. That’s cool.”

Silence.

“Okay…well I’m starving and your mother’s decapitated head is right by my left foot soooooo….can we leave?”

—-

Klaus and I walk silently up the staircase to my front door. Elijah had left us earlier to go tell Rebekah about their mother. 

When Klaus and I get to my door, I wait for him to say something, but sigh when all he does is stare at the door. 

“Ok…Night,” I reach for the handle and begin to turn it when Klaus's hand grabs mine. I turn to look at him in question but before I can even blink I’m being tagged forward into Klaus’ embrace and his lips are attacking mine. It only takes my body a moment to catch on and before I realize what I’m doing I’m kissing him back. This seems to be the approval Klaus needed because he used his hand to grab my waist to pull my flush against his chest and his other hand to grip the back of my neck so I couldn’t move…not that I wanted to. I try to fight for dominance but that is quickly stopped when Klaus bites harshly into my bottom lip, making me exhale. This gives Klaus an opening as his tongue enters my mouth and begins fighting for dominance against my own. An involuntary moan escapes my lips at the feeling and Klaus releases a growl at the noise. 

Klaus releases my mouth as we both catch our breaths.

My eyes widen as I see that Klaus’ once blue eyes are now a bright gold, with dark veins under them. Without thinking I reach a hand up and cup his face, and using my thumb I trace the veins. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I whip around to see Theo wrapped in his fluffy robe with his phone to his ear glaring at Klaus and I, “I’ll have to call you back Jerebaby. My sister’s making out with a serial killer.”

Theo ends the call, stomps out of the house, and puts his hands on his hips sending glares to both Klaus and me. 

“Seriously?! Young lady, in the house now!”

I raise an eyebrow at Theo and he does the exact same.

I turn to say goodbye, or really anything to Klaus but Theo stops me.

“NUH-UH HOUSE NOW!”

I roll my eyes and with a huff, I stomp inside. 

Theo slams the door shut behind us and I whip around to him.

“Seriously, Theodore!?”

“Room now,” Theo yells and I glare at him.

“I’m older than you Theo, you can’t ground me.”

“Well, as the man of this house, I am.”

“You’re wearing a blue fluffy robe with bunny rabbits on it,” I deadpan as I look at my brother’s attire.

“AND?! ROOM NOW! We shall talk about this in the morning!”

I blink once at my brother before shaking my head and trudging over to my room. 

—

After taking a VERY cold shower I finally get to settle down with my lasagna. 

“Hello, Elskan.”

FUCKING SERIOUSLY

I whip around on my bed to see Elijah, who just magically appeared in the corner of my room. Yay. 

“Ya, hi, Elijah. No offense but I haven’t eaten anything at all today and almost getting killed by a one thousand-year-old witch really does something to the stomach. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to eat while you say whatever it is you’re going to say.”

I huff and then stuff a forkful of pasta into my mouth. 

“Of course, Elskan. Please don’t starve yourself. I’ll say my peace and then leave you.”

I hum to him as I pick a huge piece of pasta up with my fork and shove it into my mouth. 

“I am leaving Mystic Falls.”

I feel my lasagna lodge in my throat as I inhale.

I clutch my throat as I feel myself choking and try to cough up my food.

“Y/n!”

Elijah runs to my side and hits my back and I spit out the chunk of pasta onto my plate. 

With a shaky breath, I look up to Elijah who is staring at me, wide-eyed, “What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?!”

Elijah shakes his head, “Are you alright?” I glare at him, “Elijah answer my question.”

Elijah eyes me for a moment before shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. He walks back over to the corner of my room and places himself on my desk chair. 

“I am leaving.”

I blink, “Ya… I got that.”

Elijah sighs, “What I did today was unforgivable. I went against my moral code and hurt not just you, but your friend. I betrayed your trust and threatened an innocent girl's life. I can never forgive myself. That is why I must leave. My siblings will stay here to make sure you stay safe, but…me being around will only cause more pain.”

“Are you serious?”

Elijah picks up his head to meet my glare. 

With a huff, I put my pasta, which is now cold, onto my side table, and stand up. With my hands on my hips, I walk over to Elijah and stand before his seated figure.  

“Elijah you are a grown man, act like it.”

Elijah’s eyes narrow at my words, “Excuse me?”

“You talk a big game about taking accountability but right now, that is the farthest thing from what you are doing. You made a mess, clean it up. Don’t run away just because you’re scared of the repercussions.”

Elijah stands up, and I inhale when I realize just how close we are now.

“I am not scared,” Elijah’s low voice sends shivers down my spine as he leans down to meet my eye level. 

I puff out my chest, “Is that so? Because all I see right now is a man who doesn’t go for anything he wants. Who is just letting everyone walk all over him. Elijah…you fucked up. But, running away is not going to change that. Own your mistakes, don’t hide from them.” 

Elijah’s nostrils flare slightly and he raises an eyebrow, “You think I don’t go for what I want?”

The challenge in his voice makes a warmth flow throughout my body, “Yes…”

As soon as the word leaves my mouth, Elijah raises his hand and grips my throat pulling me into him. A startled gasp leaves my throat but it is quickly muted by the pressure of Elijah’s lip on my own. My mind seems to be working a mile a minute as I try to understand everything that is happening right now. Elijah is kissing me. Kissing me. Elijah is kissing me, while his hand is wrapped around my throat. 

Kinky.

No, Y/n. Shut up. 

As soon as I start to piece together everything, the pressure of Elijah’s mouth and his hand are gone. I blink as I see Elijah look almost hurt. 

“You didn’t like that…I’m so sorry Elskan. I’ll go.”

Elijah’s words make me highly confused because I indeed liked what he just did.

“Why do you think I didn’t like it?”

Elijah’s eyebrows furrow, “You were distracted. I felt it. And you…,” He pauses and I see his cheeks turn a light pink. He’s nervous, “You didn’t kiss me back.”

Seeing Elijah’s hurt expression, mixed with his tinted cheeks pulls something out of me, and before I can stop myself I grab his tie and drag him over to me. As soon as he’s a few inches away I slam my lips onto his. 

A shocked grunt escapes his throat and then a moment later he’s grabbing both of my cheeks and pulling my face flush against his. Just like with Klaus, I try to fight for dominance but that is short-lived with the intense pressure Elijah is kissing me with. 

After a dizzying few minutes, Elijah unlocks our lips and rests his forehead against mine and I can’t stop the giggle that leaves me. 

“Friends definitely don’t do that.”

[himblebo]

Brb having heart palpitations on the verge of tears because I’m handling mid Victorian era undergarments that were made for someone around my size and that makes the fact that I’m literally holding history in my hands feel all the more real because it’s not just this dainty tiny thing that survived because it was outgrown, it’s something substantial that I can picture a real person wearing and going about their daily life in

[fastandcarlos]

Late Cravings : ̗̀➛ George Russell

summary: what baby wants, baby gets, even if she does want it at 3am, much to george's dissatisfaction

You barely managed to walk through the door before George appeared in front of you, his eyes were wide as his hands held onto your arms, studying you closely before closing the door. 

“George, at least let me get in,” you told him, being directed by his hold. “What’s going on? Why do you look so scared?” You questioned, sliding your shoes off and kicking them to one side. 

It was only once George stood still that you could see how nervous he looked. His heart was racing as he finally let you go, brushing his hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, taking a moment to pace and compose himself a little bit once again. 

The fear of stirring in the night and not feeling you there brought a terror that George had never experienced before. He had no idea where you were, terrified that one of his worst fears during your pregnancy had come true. 

“Where were you?” George frantically asked you, “what sort of person just gets up and leaves the house at three in the morning without telling anyone where you’re going first.” 

You felt guilty as you heard the panic that was still in George’s voice, encouraging him to take a seat beside you. Your hand rested against his leg, assuring him that you were there and that you were safe. 

Your free hand reached into your bag and pulled out what you had bought on your late-night adventure, with George’s eyes watching carefully to see many of the things you’d been craving in front of you. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about these and I knew I wasn’t going to sleep without getting my hands on them,” you told him, ripping open the packet of crisps you’d bought. 

“But I could have gone to get them for you, all you had to do was ask,” George groaned, staring across at you as you placed a crisp into your mouth, throwing your head back in satisfaction. 

The thought of waking George did cross your mind, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it, he was peacefully sleeping beside you and you didn’t have the heart to disturb him. 

“You were asleep and with how busy you are you need to rest as much as possible,” you told him,  I wouldn’t have gone if I didn’t feel like I was up to it George.” 

George’s head nodded, he understood where you were coming from, knowing that you wanted to remain as independent as possible, but even by his standards this was a stretch too far. 

“I could’ve sat in the passenger seat and slept,” he suggested with a smile on his face, “at least then I would have known exactly where you were.” 

“But you know where I am now, that’s the main thing, right?” 

George’s eyes narrowed on you, as safe as you were now, half an hour ago he was worried that it was going to be a whole different story. 

“I wish you’d tell me when you’re planning on giving me a heart attack,” George joked. 

“It’s all part of the fun,” you argued, resting your head down against George’s shoulder as you continued to eat. “You know I am just pregnant though George, I’m not incapable.” 

Whilst George was overprotective, you were a little carefree making the two of you a little conflicted. George wanted to know every last detail while you tended to not tell him much about what you were up to, confident you could still take on the world, even if George was a little more doubtful. 

“Maybe going out so early in the morning wasn’t the brightest idea,” you reasoned, much to George’s delight, “I suppose I could have sorted out my cravings in a little bit of a better way.” 

“I know how you get when you’re craving though,” George mused, “if there’s one thing that I know about you it’s that you definitely get whatever you want when you’re craving.” 

You nodded in agreement with him, you were determined with everything that you did, but now you were more determined than ever to do as much as you could for as long as you possibly could too. 

“I don’t mean to constantly be on your case,” George told you, kissing against the top of your head. “I need to remind myself to trust you more, to know that you know how far you can push your body.” 

“I wouldn’t do something if I couldn’t,” you assured, “and as much as you might not believe me, if I need help then I will ask you for it George.” 

The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, “I know you will, and I’ll always be there whenever you need me to step in and help you out.” 

“That’s why you’re such a fantastic husband.” 

You weren’t oblivious to how lucky you were to have George by your side doing absolutely anything that you needed. He was beyond excited to have a baby, wanting to do as much as he could to help both you and the baby out, maybe sometimes a little too much, although you knew George always meant well. 

“I draw the line at three in the morning,” George then spoke up, sending you a knowing glance. “It’s dark outside and you can’t see where you’re going. No craving can be as important as keeping you safe in conditions like that.” 

“I was driving and my lights were on.” 

“Still,” George sniggered, dismissing your protests. “From now on if you need anything in the night then you can shake and kick me awake, regardless of how sleepy I might look beside you.” 

Your eyebrows raised as George spoke, “I can kick you?” 

“That’s the bit you focus on,” George grumbled, rolling his eyes at you as you threw your crisp packet into the bin. “You got anything else in there, I’m hungry now after all the energy I’ve just exerted panicking for you.” 

“Are you pregnant and craving?” You asked him as his head shook. “In that case then you get nothing, these are mine and mine only.” 

You reached forwards and opened up the packet of sweets that you’d bought, taking one out. Luckily for George you reached across and popped one of the sweets into his mouth, much to his delight. You leant back against his chest as you started tucking in, his arm wrapping around you. 

Despite the way his heart had raced just a few minutes earlier, it was a lot calmer as George noticed the content smile now on your face. He knew that pregnancy was far from easy for you, trying his best to understand your mood and emotions as much as he could. 

“Maybe we should stock up on some of the things you crave,” George suggested, watching your eyes light up. “You know like how people how emergency rations; we could have emergency cravings.” 

“That might not be the worst idea,” you agreed, “but only if you agree that they’re for my cravings and not for you to keep tucking into.” 

“You know what my appetite is like, when there’s food in front of me then I’m probably going to eat it.” 

“Think of it like this, would you deny your child food if you ate the food that is kept in the cupboard for them?” 

“Oh wow, now that is the ultimate guilt trip.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[ylangelegy]

babe for the weekend ❄️ soonyoung x reader.

Everybody thought that you and Kwon Soonyoung were a foregone conclusion, but then he had to go and change the ending. Six years after the breakup, he decides to come home for the holidays— and now, you’re stuck between your pride, his dreams, and the road not taken. ‘Tis the damn season, indeed.

୨ৎ pairing: dance studio ceo!soonyoung x lawyer!f!reader. ୨ৎ genre/warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, romance. alternate universe: non-idol. mentions of food, alcohol consumption, swearing/cussing. post-breakup dynamics and quarter-life crises. high school lovers to exes. law terms. spiteful reader. rated T for languages and themes. title and synopsis shamelessly reference taylor swift's t'is the damn season. ୨ৎ word count: 16.6k ୨ৎ footnotes: this is part of @camandemstudios's winter with you collaboration! ´◡` thank you so much for trusting me with soonyoung. also eternally grateful to @shinwonderful and @biniaiahs for beta reading. may revisit this to do edits in the future, but for now, we settle.

in the words of a, i am the 'harbringer of doom and angst.' happy holidays, everyone! + tag list in the comments.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ winter with you masterlist ┆ my masterlist ┆ the official babe for the weekend playlist.

This has to be the universe’s idea of a joke. 

It’s like the time your professor refused to round up your grade in college and you almost got set back a semester. Or that one day at work, where the forecast said it would be sunny— only for you to get caught in a downpour on your way home. 

The universe had to be an aspiring amateur comedian, because why else would Kwon Soonyoung be in front of you right now? 

“What?” Soonyoung chirps. “No ‘hello’ for your favorite ex?” 

Six years. It’s been six years since you last saw each other, and those are the opening words he decides to go with. 

You’re torn between smacking him upside on the head and strangling him. Maybe both, you muse, as you survey the ways he’s changed over time. 

His hair is blonde now. His once-pale skin is a little more tan. And— as much as you loathe to admit it— he looks more fit. You can vaguely make out the muscles straining underneath his casual wear.

Dancer’s build, you begrudgingly concede.

When Soonyoung calls you out in a bid to snap you out of your daydream, you physically flinch. Your name still rolls right off his tongue like honey. You don’t have the right to call me that, a small, bitter voice says in the back of your mind. You don’t have the right to talk to me at all. 

“Hellooo,” he sing-songs, waving one of his palms inches away from your face. “Did you have a stroke or something?” 

That prompts you to speak.

After all that time, your first words to Soonyoung in six years are cold and curt: “Get out.” 

A corner of Soonyoung’s mouth twitches upward. The infuriating bastard. He probably anticipated a reaction like this from you. 

He straightens until he can shove his hands into the pockets of his winter coat. “I don’t see any signs that say I’m not allowed to be here,” he says. “Did I miss it?” 

He makes a whole show of looking around your family’s restaurant. A part of you is grateful that you’re the only one on today’s shift; your parents would’ve undoubtedly had over-the-top reactions to Soonyoung’s sudden reappearance. It’s only through years of conditioning that you’ve learned to keep your reactions under control, even when the world throws you curveballs such as these. 

Your expression is perfectly blank as you dryly note, “There’s a sign out on the front, actually.” 

“Oh? Really?” 

“Yeah. No strays allowed.” 

Soonyoung shakes his head. “Brutal,” he says, but there’s still that hint of a smile on his face.  

If you strained your ears, you might hear the trace of affection in his tone. The thought of it— of Soonyoung holding any sort of fondness for you— makes you want to scream. 

You manage to tamp that urge in favor of jerking your head towards the front door of the restaurant. “Out,” you repeat, your gaze briefly flickering to the CCTV in the corner of the store. 

Your father would probably kill you if he found out you were turning someone away. A supposed family friend, at that. But this wasn’t just a customer, and you weren’t sure if you could still call Soonyoung a friend, and it’s been six years, damn it.

“Is that any way to treat a customer?” Soonyoung goads.

“You’re not a customer.” 

“You haven’t given me the chance to be.” 

“That’s because you’re not welcome here.” 

“It’s pretty bad for business that—” 

That wasn’t going to fly. You weren’t about to take business advice from Kwon Soonyoung of all people. 

One minute, you’re behind the counter with your hands clenched into fists. The next, you’ve closed the space between you and Soonyoung. He falters as you approach, looking almost like he’s holding his breath. 

It’s not a slap that greets him. Most definitely not a hug, either. 

Instead, one of your hands dart out until you’ve got a firm grip on his ear.

Soonyoung is still taller than you, but he folds over at your rough tug. “Ow, ow, ow!” he screeches, his own hands flying out of his pockets in a futile attempt to either push you off or shield himself. 

In his split second of indecision, you manage to haul him back over to the entrance. Because you had been manning the fort, you hadn’t even noticed that it had started to snow. The first of the year. 

You don’t have the time to appreciate it. Your focus is entirely on channeling your energy to shove Soonyoung out of the restaurant. He stumbles out on the sidewalk where he rubs his offended ear with a scandalized expression on his face.

A lesser man might have snapped back, might have demanded an explanation for being manhandled so shamelessly. To your sheer annoyance, Soonyoung only laughs. 

It’s a full-bodied sound, one that practically bounces off the street. He laughs, and he laughs, and he laughs, clutching at his stomach like this is the funniest thing in the world. 

Remember how, earlier, you thought you might scream? Now, you truly almost do. Because the years have passed— but Soonyoung still laughs exactly the same. 

You don’t stick around to find out if you do end up yelling. Instead, you march right back into the restaurant with your chin jut up in a show of confidence. You can hear him trying to choke out words between his laughing fit, something akin to, “Hey, wait—,” but you’re not about to hear him out. 

Not today, not ever. 

It’s the most satisfying feeling in the world, getting to slam the door in his face. 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“I got hungry.”

--

“ — tried to give me business advice! Me, business advice!” 

You punctuate your exclamation with a slap to your office table. Jihoon and Wonwoo are a little too familiar with your fits of passion to be surprised; Wonwoo barely looks up from his round of Block Blast, while Jihoon only shakes his head. 

“Sounds like something he would do,” Jihoon offers empathetically.

You lean back into your chair, your expression contorted into one of utter frustration. The three of you rarely meet in your office, but you had called a DEFCON 1 situation in light of recent events. Jihoon and Wonwoo lounged leisurely in front of you as you ranted your heart away for the past thirty or so minutes. 

“Who does he think he is?” you seethe. “Showing up here unannounced!” 

Wonwoo pipes up. “It wasn’t unannounced.”

Jihoon silences Wonwoo with a warning glare. You can only glance between the two boys before Jihoon heaves out a sigh and admits, “We knew that he was coming back to visit.” 

The look of betrayal on your face must be clear as day, because Wonwoo guiltily pauses his game to flash you a sheepish grin. “We met up with him— yesterday, was it?” 

Yesterday. “And you didn’t tell me?!” Your voice is a little shrill and a whole lot incredulous.

Ever the pragmatic one, Jihoon quips, “You’ve always said that you want nothing to do with him. I presumed that involved knowing whether or not he was coming home.”

Damn it. Jihoon got you there. 

You’re not sure what you would’ve even done, really, if you’d been given a heads up. Would you have boarded up the doors to your home? Would you have sought him out yourself in a prideful bid to maintain some twisted sort of upper hand? 

You’re still mulling it over when Wonwoo delicately says, “Look at the bright side. You probably won’t run into him again.”

Jihoon attempts to distract you by getting you to talk about your most recent client— a stubborn chicken shop significantly behind on mortgage payments. You give in, if only because you want so very badly to believe in Wonwoo’s words. 

--

You should’ve known better, really, because of course your friends would lie to you. 

That’s the only thought on your mind as you keep your eyes firmly ahead and away from the smirking blonde in your peripheral vision. Already, you’re contemplating the bodily harm you’ll cause Jihoon and Wonwoo for leaving out this vital piece of information. 

But you can’t be wrathful. Not in front of the kids. 

The gaggle of twenty-something elementary students sit cross-legged on the floor, their gazes all trained on the newcomer. They’re whispering excitedly among themselves, so much so that Teacher Kang has to clap more than thrice to recapture their attention. 

“Now, everyone,” Teacher Kang announces. “Do you remember what I said about having a very special guest for today?” 

A high-pitched chorus of “Yes, Teacher Kang,” resounds throughout the auditorium. 

“Very good. Can we please give a warm welcome to Teacher Kang’s friend, Soonyoung?” 

Soonyoung makes his way to the front of the gaggle with an easy grin and a relaxed gait, like he belongs here. And maybe a part of him does. This was his turf once, too. 

“‘Soonyoung’ is a bit long, isn’t it?” he says, speaking to both Teacher Kang and the kids in front of them. It’s a small grace that he isn’t calling you out just yet, though you wouldn’t put him past it. 

“Everybody!” Soonyoung proclaims. There’s a bit of a flourish in how he moves, how he looks down at the awe-stricken kids with a bright, wide smile. He puts up one hand to his face and bends his fingers in an imitation of a paw. “You can call me Hoshi!”

The kids echo it back to him— “Teacher Hoshi!” “Hello, Mr. Hoshi!” “What’s a Hoshi?”— while Teacher Kang only smiles fondly. For your part, you keep your expression perfectly controlled, even though you’re telepathically trying to get Soonyoung to combust. 

It’s one thing for him to waltz back into your life like it’s nothing. It’s another thing for him to come around and introduce himself with the pet name you used to have for him. 

Suddenly, you’re teenagers again, visiting the zoo on a field trip. The two of you had tried so hard to hide from your chaperones that you were holding hands in the pockets of your winter coats. In hindsight, it had been the most obvious thing in the world. 

Soonyoung had excitedly pointed out the Bengal tigers lounging in their enclosure, and you joked about how similar he looked to them. 호랑이의 시선. Horangi-ui siseon, the tiger’s gaze. 

Soon after, you took to calling him Hoshi when he was on stage, when the two of you were arguing over something petty, when you wanted to be affectionate. Hoshi, let’s get ice cream today. Hoshi, take me to the library. Hoshi, I love you!

Something that was once yours alone was now everybody else’s, too. It bothers you more than you care to admit. 

You’re so caught up in reminiscing that you almost miss Teacher Kang saying, “Soonyoung— er, Hoshi— is going to help us with the Christmas showcase. He’s a very popular dancer in Seoul, so we’re happy to have him here.” 

The betrayal that rises up within you is sharp albeit short-lived. Teacher Kang didn’t owe you a warning the same way that, say, Jihoon or Wonwoo might’ve. But still. Any indication at all would have been nice. 

One of the younger students— an absolute sweetheart by the name of Iseul— tugs at your pant leg. You lean down so she can cup her little hand over your ear. 

“Do you know Mr. Hoshi?” she whispers conspiratorially. 

How fitting, for a five-year-old to pose the million-won question. It’s a loaded gun of a query even though there’s technically no right or wrong answer. 

Of course you knew ‘Mr. Hoshi’. Your mothers were best friends. The two of you were in the same classes. You dated him throughout high school. You knew him well, like the back of your hand. 

That was before he got up and left without so much of a glance over his shoulder, though. 

You give Iseul a tight-lipped smile. “I knew him once,” you answer. It’s not quite the truth, but it will have to do for now. 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“Took a wrong turn and ended up here.” 

--

“Are you going to ignore me the whole time, or…?” 

You answer Soonyoung’s prodding by ignoring him. 

The past week has been largely uneventful, sans Soonyoung’s occasional effort to poke his nose into your business. He at least had the decency to not show up at your family’s restaurant again, and whether or not he knows of your office is yet to be seen. 

Your interactions with him have been largely limited to the one-hour a day that you’ve dedicated to Yangjeong Elementary School. 

Yangjeong was yet another thing that the two of you shared. You were once a pig-tailed menace who outran all the boys on the playground, and Soonyoung was your snot-nosed partner-in-crime. 

Planning Yangjeong’s Christmas showcase has been your yearly commitment for as long as you can remember. Even when you were off at college, you had made it a point to set aside time for it. Volunteers have come and gone throughout the past, though this year’s volunteer was undeniably one of the more annoying ones. 

“You’re going to have to talk to me eventually, you know.” Soonyoung practically flops himself onto the desk in front of you, the sudden weight of him making the table creak. As you turn your face away, you catch sight of the pout beginning to form on his lips. 

You almost snipe at him, something along the lines of stop that or grow up or that doesn’t work on me anymore. You hold your tongue, in favor of wordlessly getting up to move to a different chair.

Soonyoung is right. You will have to talk to him soon enough.

But as you sit as far away from him as possible, readying yourself for the day ahead, you can at least decide that today will not be that day. 

Preparations for the showcase involve discussing the program with the teachers and readying the students for their performances. It’s never anything spectacular— just your run-of-the-mill rotation of tone-deaf singing and middling dances— but the town’s overzealous parents are always more than happy to indulge the show. 

Today, you and Soonyoung are set to meet with Teacher Kang to discuss the showcase’s overarching theme. 

The sixty-something-year-old woman had been your teacher as well, and so it’s understandable why she’s eyeing the pair of you with poorly concealed amusement. There’s a palpable tension between you and Soonyoung, though a significant majority of the awkwardness is likely from your end. 

“Have the two of you not kept in touch?” Teacher Kang asks as she sets down two mugs— coffee for you, hot chocolate for Soonyoung. 

“No,” the two of you say simultaneously. 

Soonyoung steals an all-too obvious glance. You keep your eyes on the coffee in front of you. 

Teacher Kang— bless her heart— decides not to push it. She settles in her own seat, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea. 

“The principal wants all the kids to do a number. Nothing too flashy, but something that will give everyone a chance to be on stage.” The elderly teacher sips at her drink before going on. “That’s why I called you in, Soonyoung.” 

“I’m the reinforcements,” he jokes. 

Teacher Kang gives a short laugh in response. “Something like that.” 

She turns to you, then, with that same motherly simper that you’ve never been able to say ‘no’ to. You wonder if she’s doing this on purpose— pulling all the stops to get you to agree to what she’s going to say next. 

“I know your hands are going to be full with the program and the staffing,” she starts. “But you’ll work with Soonyoung, won’t you?” 

What kind of person would you be if you said ‘no’? If you threw a fit and demanded for Soonyoung to be thrown out?

“Of course,” you say, the word gritted out through your teeth. 

At your side, Soonyoung lets out a loud cough to disguise his grumble of ‘bullshit’. You fight the urge to kick him in the shins.

The beguiling expression on Teacher Kang’s face is merciless. At this point, she’s no longer hiding the way that she’s watching you and Soonyoung’s heatless bickering. And when she comments on it, when she says “You two haven’t changed,” you almost walk out then and there. 

I’ve changed, you want to insist. He’s changed. We’re both changed; we had to.

Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been worth it. The breakup, the distance, all of it. 

Soonyoung recovers before you do. 

“Ah, before I forget!” He digs for something in his pants pocket, which he eventually holds out for Teacher Kang. “You asked me for this, the last time we saw each other.” 

Despite yourself, you can’t help but try and crane your neck to catch sight of what had been handed over. Soonyoung catches the small shift and huffs out a laugh. 

“You could just ask, you know,” he says, reaching back into his pocket. 

Your protest of “I don’t—” is cut off by him shoving the same thing in your hand. Your fingers close around the calling card bearing the illustration of a tiger and a string of unfamiliar numbers. 

Hoshi, A.K.A Kwon Soonyoung, it also says. Chief Executive Officer, Eye of the Tiger Dance Studio. B1, 47, Dogok-ro 27-Gil, Gangnam-Gu, Seoul. 

“So you know where to find me,” he says with the world’s most obnoxious smirk. 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“I forgot something.” 

“From six years ago?” 

“From six years ago.” 

--

Everybody thought that you and Soonyoung were a foregone conclusion. 

It had been your stereotypical small town romance. You were kids together and then you were teenagers together. Some might have blamed it on forced proximity, but you like to think that the attraction and affection was real. That it wasn’t a matter of not having any other choice. 

You had chosen Soonyoung happily. He had chosen you right back.

After an awkward dance of ‘will-they-won’t-they,’ the two of you started dating in your freshman year of high school. It was the type of thing that had everybody— your respective families, your mutual friends— breathing a sigh of relief. Something akin to finally. 

For nearly four years, Soonyoung was it for you. 

He was the one walking you home, the one you messed around with behind the library building. The two of you shared nearly every first that mattered. Every first that a high schooler could afford, anyway. 

First date.

First kiss. 

And, so it goes— first heartbreak.

Soonyoung had worn his heart on his sleeve; it was abundantly clear to everyone what he cared about. Two things in particular defined him: You, and dancing.

If you really tried, you can still remember the first time that Soonyoung had choreographed a dance himself. He had been young, scrappy, hungry— all the qualities that made it possible for him to tear up the stage and leave the rest of you in awe. 

He went on to be president of your school’s modern dance club. He went on to compete, both in groups and by himself, and win. 

You picked up on it, too, if only to indulge him. The two of you had your fair share of semi-viral dance covers and podium finishes at local contests. It was yet another testament to your partnership, to what everyone presumed would spell out endgame. 

Except you only loved to dance, while Soonyoung lived for it. 

“Come with me,” he had invited you the night before your high school graduation. 

The two of you were supposed to be in bed, but your phone buzzed underneath your pillow and you couldn’t resist one last act of rebellion. You climbed out your window and met up with Soonyoung at your typical halfway point— the derelict playground the two of you have long since grown out of. 

“To where?” you asked, your sandaled feet dragging through the sand beneath the swing. Uncharacteristically, Soonyoung hadn’t kicked off at all, instead opting to remain still. 

His fingers had been tightly clenched around the rusting chain of the dated swing. You remember that much. In hindsight, he looked nervous. 

There is a timeline where he might have proposed to you that night, might have asked for an early hand in marriage, with how on edge he was acting. 

But, instead, you had prompted, “Have you finally decided on a uni?”

A beat. 

His voice— soft and vulnerable— broke the silence of the February evening. “I’m not going to uni.” 

You should have stopped swinging, then. Should have ground to a halt and grabbed Soonyoung by the shoulders. Should have called him crazy, insane.

Maybe you should have asked him to reconsider. That might have changed things. 

Except you only kept on pushing. Back, forth. Back, forth. Like this was just a normal conversation and not a relationship-defining, life-altering moment for the two of you.

“I’m going to Seoul,” he elaborated, desperate to fill your silence. “I’m going to try and be a dancer. You— you could, too.” 

Your answer was immediate. “I’m not as good as you.” 

“You are,” he argued. A muscle in his jaw jumped, then. You’d known him for long enough to recognize his little tells and ticks, and that had been one of them. An indicator of a lie. 

“I’m not.” You kept swinging, kept your face angled away from your boyfriend who was slipping through your fingers. “I’m going to uni, Soonyoung.” 

“But—”

“But what?” 

You’ll never admit this, but you had been cruel back then. You know that now.

There are things you would have done differently. You wouldn’t have snapped. You would have looked at him. 

You were young, though, and angry. Your heart had been shattering in your chest and the only thing you could do was go back and forth on that creaking swing as Soonyoung tried to get through to you. 

It hadn’t been that much of a surprise. Soonyoung’s general disinterest in college applications— and his constant rumblings about city life— had given you some idea of what his plans might be. 

You just thought you would be more involved in it. That you wouldn’t be simply handed the decision, as if it were something you would have to accept.

Young, angry, and selfish to boot. 

“Nothing.” Soonyoung eventually said. His words sounded like a concession, like some form of twisted acceptance. “You’ll go to uni.” 

“And you’ll go to Seoul.”

In your peripheral vision, you had seen Soonyoung tilt his head away as if trying to hide his face from you. Six years is a long time ago. You can’t tell if he had cried, or maybe you’ve chosen to erase that from your memory. 

“I’ll go,” Soonyoung repeated, an edge of defeat in his tone. 

You swung, and swung, and swung, like it was the only thing keeping you tethered. 

Back, forth. Back, forth. 

The quiet had stretched, giving you a chance, an opportunity. To convince him otherwise. To change your own mind. 

But— 

“And I’ll stay,” you had responded. 

That’s the thing about endings: They’re susceptible to change. 

--

The first civil words you utter to Soonyoung are “Yeah, I think the kids will enjoy Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” 

He’d been spewing out prospects for the showcase’s group dance, though each idea had to be delicately shot down by Teacher Kang. Jingle Bell Rock? Performed three years ago. Baby, It’s Cold Outside? Perhaps not the most appropriate for children. 

You can see from a mile away, the signs of Soonyoung’s growing frustration— the downturn of his lips, the furrow of his brows. When he recommends the Maria Carey classic, you throw him a bone. Just to try and wipe that look off his face.

You immediately regret your kindness, because Soonyoung’s head whips around and he looks at you with the most disbelieving, wide-eyed expression. You return the overreaction with a half-hearted glare. 

“What?” you ask defensively. 

“It’s—” He pauses, his eyes flicking to Teacher Kang. “Nothing, nothing.” 

His jaw ticks. All that time apart and he’s still never learned how to get better at lying. 

You don’t have to poke and prod to know what’s coming. Once your little meeting draws to a close— Teacher Kang eventually agreeing with Santa Claus Is Coming to Town— Soonyoung makes a beeline for your side, his excitement barely concealed. 

“Is the world ending?” he asks you.

You attempt to shoulder past him, but he only follows you out of the classroom, sticking to your side. “You said we would have to talk eventually,” you point out. “Here’s your ‘eventually’. Don’t be too happy about it.” 

“But I am happy about it,” he responds, his tone almost like that of a whining puppy. “Not too much. Just an appropriate amount.” 

So help me, God. 

You keep your gaze ahead as you walk out of the school. Soonyoung matches your pace, humming underneath his breath. You better watch out, you better not cry. You better not pout, I’m tellin’ you why. 

Once the two of you are out the front doors of the school, you’re greeted to a light dusting of snow on Namyangju’s sidewalks. 

“So,” Soonyoung says casually as you pull out your phone to check the weather for the rest of the day. “You don’t work full-time at your parents’ restaurant, do you?” 

Involuntarily, a derisive snort of laughter escapes you. “Small talk? Really?” 

There’s a boyish grin on Soonyoung’s face. “Gotta take advantage of you being chatty,” he shoots back, which only prompts you to shake your head. 

You could ignore him, like you always have. You probably should. That had always been Soonyoung’s style. 

Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. 

And yet—

“No,” you grumble, your eyes still absentmindedly scanning your weather app. “I only work at the restaurant part-time.” 

“The rest of the time?” 

“I didn’t realize this was going to be a talk show.” 

“Haven’t you heard? I’m primetime’s most charming host—” 

“Law. I work at a law firm.”

The answer is ripped from you in a bid to avoid Soonyoung’s theatrics, and you find yourself blinking with mild surprise, like you hadn’t prepared to divulge the detail at all. Soonyoung notices, and his lips curl in a smug smirk. 

“I know,” he says simply. “Jihoon told me.” 

You make a mental note to berate your mutual friend as you exasperatedly say, “Why did you ask, then?” 

“Because I wanted to hear it from you.” 

Soonyoung lets his words hang, linger, before he goes on. It’s just four words, what he utters next, but it still threatens to tilt your world on its axis. 

“I’m proud of you,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

You’ve heard your fair share of the platitude throughout the years. From Jihoon and Wonwoo, when you first got into law school. From your parents, when you passed the bar exam. From Teacher Kang, every December, when the Christmas showcase is pulled off. 

This is something entirely different. This has you shoving your phone back into your bag, just to hide the way your hand had begun to twitch at the words. 

“You can’t say stuff like that to your ex,” you snap. 

Soonyoung’s answer comes without a moment’s hesitation. “Why? Being exes doesn’t take away the fact that I’m proud of you.” 

Too much, too much, too much. It’s too much for your pride, your emotions, your heart. You wish you could take this for what it is— a compliment, some kindness— but the history goes deep, and the words feel like a scab being picked. 

You do what you do best. You turn on your heel and begin to walk away. 

Thankfully, Soonyoung doesn’t follow you. But he’s nothing if not vexatious, so he squeezes in a sing-song cry of “Byeee, attorney!” as you leave. 

You quicken your pace just a little bit more. 

--

Jihoon has the tendency to look like a kicked puppy when he’s being told off. 

He doesn’t pout, no, but the expression on his face is a close thing as you give him grief over telling Soonyoung about you. Wonwoo, stuck in the middle as per usual, only calmly cuts into his lunch. 

“Why did you have to tell Soonyoung about my work, huh?” you demand as you slice a little too forcefully into your bulgogi. “Giving him free ammunition or something?” 

Jihoon finally gets a word in edgewise. “It’s because he asks about you,” he deadpans. 

The thought of it is so insane that you bark out a laugh. The retort— bullshit!— is right on the tip of your tongue, but it dies out when Wonwoo bobs his head up and down.

Wonwoo has always been the less likely of the two to lie to you. You’re still a bit baffled even as the bespectacled man confirms, “Yeah. He asks me, too.” 

“Asks what?” 

“How you’re doing.” Wonwoo is so nonchalant about the whole affair that you’re tempted to call him out, too, but the lack of teasing in his tone gives you some sense of where his head is at. “What you’re up to. Stuff like that.” 

Kwon Soonyoung has kept tabs on you. 

In the years that you’ve tried to bury the memory of your friendship, of your relationship, Kwon Soonyoung has kept tabs. 

“He—” You clear your throat when your voice comes out a little more high-pitched than usual. If Jihoon and Wonwoo notice, they mercifully don’t call you out. 

You manage, “He could have just reached out to me.”

Jihoon, who had taken advantage of the reprieve to shovel some spoonfuls of rice into his mouth, swallows hard before speaking. 

“Would you have answered?” he inquires, one eyebrow arched upward. 

The truth— rarely plain, never simple— lies in a single, two-lettered word. No. No, you probably wouldn’t have answered. And even though you want to defend yourself, to claim otherwise, both Jihoon and Wonwoo would only do what you had wanted to do earlier. Call bullshit. 

You let out a groan of defeat, slumping forward until your forehead has planted on the table in front of you.

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Wonwoo chirps, and though you can’t see him, you can already imagine the smirk that he’s sporting. 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“I thought there would be a high school reunion. I think I got the date wrong.” 

--

The abundance of existing routines for Santa Claus Is Coming to Town makes it somewhat easier for you and Soonyoung to dumb it down for the kids. 

You spend the next week keeping the students in line as Soonyoung teaches them how to shimmy, how to slide, how to do jazz hands. Every so often, you catch him at a loss— like when one of the younger boys tries to eat a crayon, or when the kids go into a scream-filled debate about the existence of Santa Claus. 

These are things you’re used to. These are things you can handle. 

Taking the crayons away or assuring the kids that Santa Claus is real is far, far easier than being in forced proximity with the one that got away. You’re reminded of that, now, as Soonyoung taps out for a breather and you sub in to go over the routine with the kids once more. 

They’re more prone to listening to you, and so you easily get one run of the song down without a hitch. In the years that you’ve voluntarily choreographed for the showcase, you’ve never thought too much about the technicalities of your skill. You danced well enough to teach, to pull off a decent, child-appropriate routine. That had been enough. 

But with the scrutinizing eyes of dance studio CEO ‘Hoshi’ following your every move, you feel that simmer of competitiveness in your stomach. 

After three more runs of the number with the children, you let them go. As you go to catch your breath over one of the auditorium’s bleachers, you’re surprised by a hand holding out a Cool Blue Raspberry Gatorade. 

“Is this still your poison?” Soonyoung asks with a hint of amusement as he settles into the space next to you. 

You don’t answer. Briefly, your mind goes to those days— the salsa competitions, the random play dance events. How Soonyoung’s backpack always had his Game Boy Color, a change of clothes, and a blue Gatorade. The last one, always for you. 

You uncork the drink, tilt your head back, and take a long swig. It’s as close to a confirmation that you’re going to give him. 

The two of you sit in silence as the children begin to file out of the auditorium. Once the only two of you are left, Soonyoung speaks up, the words far too quiet in the otherwise empty room. 

“You really are good, you know.” 

It takes you a beat too long to realize that he’s talking about your dancing. If the two of you were on better terms, you might have teased him about that night on the playground, many years ago, when he had fibbed about you being as good of a dancer as he is.

As it is, you can only respond with an equally soft, “Thanks.”

Being the bigger person lasts for all of fifty seconds, though, because Soonyoung’s next words prickle. 

“Could’ve been much bigger.” 

“Excuse me?”

He freezes, an oh shit type of expression crossing his face. Even so, he doubles down. “I'm just saying,” he starts, his tone growing slightly more defensive. “You could have done much more—” 

Your words are cold as your fingers close tighter around the half-empty bottle of Gatorade. “Am I not doing much where I am right now?” 

“You’re twisting my words,” he shoots back.

“Those are exactly your words,” you fume. 

It’s an old wound, one that Soonyoung poked with something sharp the second he returned home and made his presence known. You’ve done everything you can to ignore it, to keep the ache and the bitterness at bay, but you can’t help the way that it rises in your throat like bile. Something acidic, and foul, and unwelcome. 

You get to your feet, leaving the offered Gatorade on the bleacher. “Sorry not all of us moved to the city and had a big break, Kwon,” you say as you begin to gather your things.

“Jesus Christ.” Soonyoung’s cuss is punctuated with a laugh, but it’s not like any of the laughs you’re used to from him. The sound is annoyed, pained. Almost hurt, even, though you try not to dwell on that. 

Your relationship, your breakup, is an old wound that hasn’t completely healed. It’s been on the edge of festering ever since you lost contact with him. 

And, now, as you leave him stewing in his emotions, you figure that it’s only going to fester some more. 

--

Back then, the two of you had dubbed each other The Great Pretenders. 

Dating in high school required a certain level of delicadeza. While your relationship was largely accepted and acknowledged, there were still a number of things you had to hide from your families and friends. Tear-stained faces after petty arguments. Hickies under the collars of your school uniforms. 

It’s been years, but The Great Pretenders makes a reappearance when the pair of you have to face Teacher Kang the next day.

It goes unspoken that whatever the hell is going on between you two shouldn’t affect the showcase, shouldn’t be obvious to anyone that matters. And so the two of you update her on the kids’ progress, and sip the warm drinks that she offers, without any indication of having had a spat. 

The check-in winds to a close after a couple of polite exchanges. Teacher Kang seems pleased with preparations so far, though she looks even more happy about you and Soonyoung’s perceived civility, which damn near bowls you over. 

“By the way, Soonyoung,” Teacher Kang says conversationally as the three of you pack up for the afternoon. “How’s the studio?” 

“All good.” He pauses, like he realized he hadn’t given that sufficient of an answer. “We’re usually busy around this time of year, but I have one of my staff keeping watch while I’m here. I plan to head back once the holiday season is over.” 

You should’ve seen it coming, but something beneath your rib cage still twinges at the thought. You ignore the feeling in favor of shouldering your backpack. 

“You shouldn’t wait so long before coming back again,” Teacher Kang half-jokes.

Soonyoung’s chuckle— a dry, unconvincing huff of ha-ha— is chased with the cool delivery of “I’ll try to make it a more regular thing.”

In the corner of your eye, you catch what Teacher Kang misses. The most imperceptible tick in Soonyoung’s jaw. 

Liar, you think. Liar, liar, liar. 

You and Soonyoung had mastered the art of pretending, sure, but you could never quite get away from each other. 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“I’d forgotten the sound of my mother’s voice.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

--

The snow returns with a vengeance. 

It’s that time of winter where the streets are blanketed with white, where the sleet and rain makes conditions horrendous. You have no choice but to soldier through the soft hail as you make your way to the school, which you’re committed to reach come rain or shine.

Except when you get to the front doors, you’re greeted by a bemused-looking Soonyoung. 

You pat down your snow-clad clothes as you look him up and down. “Where are you going?” 

He answers your question with one of his own. “Haven’t you heard?” He holds up his phone. “Practice is cancelled today. Everybody’s snowed in.” 

You were rarely the type to walk and text, so your phone has been sitting pretty in your pocket this whole time. When you go to check it, you find messages from Teacher Kang. Canceling showcase preparations in lieu of the weather. Stay safe and dry. 

“I just found out myself,” Soonyoung says delicately. 

Ah. That explained why he was the only other person around. 

Disgruntled, you glance at your surroundings. There’s barely anyone present, and the snow is only seeming to fall heavier with each passing minute. You’d be lucky to get a cab at this rate—

“Or I could just drive you.” 

You jump a bit. At what point had you started saying that last thought out loud? 

“That’s not necessary,” you start to say, but Soonyoung is already fishing for his car keys in his jacket pocket. 

“I know you hate my ass,” he responds bluntly. “But that hatred isn’t worth freezing to death over, no?” 

His face is turned away from you, so there’s no way for you to tell what expression he’s sporting. It’s a small grace. Even though you dread the thought of being stuck in a small space with nothing but your thoughts and an old ghost to keep your company, you do hate the prospect of hypothermia even more. 

That’s how you end up in the passenger seat of Soonyoung’s beat-up Hyundai Pony, which stutters and bucks every time he has to take a turn. It’s the very same car that you both learned to drive in, though it’s looking significantly worse for wear. 

While nostalgia has proven to be a bitch, you can’t resist the jab on the tip of your tongue. “Jesus,” you breathe, your fingers tightening around your seatbelt as Soonyoung barely makes a corner. “I can’t believe this thing’s still alive.” 

“That makes two of us,” he quips with a grimace. 

Once the car miraculously makes its way past a snowed-out road, Soonyoung notes, “Remember when my dad first taught us how to get through rain?”

The memory brings the flicker of a smile to your face. “You were so scared you might run a squirrel over,” you say. 

“You swore up and down that you’d never drive on a wet road,” Soonyoung shoots back.  

“I still don’t,” you respond, glancing out the window for the lack of a better thing to look at. “I ask my dad to drive whenever it’s raining.” 

Soonyoung’s next words make you pause. “Your dad hated me,” he huffs. 

You let out a snort of laughter. “That’s not true. He really liked you.” 

“He always left the room whenever I came in,” Soonyoung argues. 

“He wanted to give us privacy.” You can’t help the sigh that slides past your lips, the sound edged with annoyance. “Really, you’ve got to stop blaming other people for why we didn’t work out.”

The words hang heavy in the din of the car. You wonder, for a second, if you’d been too callous, but there’s something like a rueful smile that tugs at Soonyoung’s face. 

“Sorry. Coping mechanism,” he responds, and you don’t push any further. 

An awkward couple of moments follow. Unfortunately for you, Soonyoung has never learned the art of tact— always pushing it just a little bit, right to the point where the tension is drawn like a rubber band. 

“You know, my mom has been asking about you,” Soonyoung says conversationally as he turns into your neighborhood. “Says I should invite you over for lunch.” 

Your grasp on the seatbelt is white-knuckled. It wasn’t like you were actively avoiding the Kwons; you were perfectly polite when you saw them in public, when you ran into them in the supermarket or at church. But it’s been years since you last stepped foot in their house, and for obvious reasons, too. 

“I’m not ready for that,” you answer tersely. 

Soonyoung is either oblivious to your agitation or ignorant of it. Regardless of which, he goes on, “I said the same thing. I guess she still thinks—” 

“Let’s not go there.” Your tone is just cutting enough to give Soonyoung pause, to have him stammer to a halt as he pulls to a stop in front of your house. “I’m hot having this conversation with you, Soonyoung.” 

He doesn’t apologize, though he does back down. “Right,” he mumbles as he parks. “Right.” 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, careful to keep your gaze trained away from Soonyoung. “Thanks for the ride.”

Soonyoung is graciously quiet as you step out of his car, though that lasts for all of ten seconds— just enough for you to almost close the door on him— when he speaks up. 

“Hey. For the record,” he starts, leaning over the center console to get in the last word. “I don’t blame anyone else for our breakup. I know whose fault it is.” 

You raise an eyebrow. He throws you an infuriating grin before reaching over to pull the door close himself. 

Soonyoung peels away, once again leaving you with more questions than answers. 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“It’s cold in the city, during the winter.” 

--

You and Soonyoung find yourselves doubling your efforts as the date of the showcase looms.

You spend more of your time with Teacher Kang. You extend a little more patience to the kids. You dance— dance the routines, dance with Soonyoung, dance around the truth. 

But when the elephant in the room is as big as it is, ignorance is not an option. And Soonyoung never did learn how to keep his mouth shut. 

It’s late in the evening, the two of you having pulled extra hours to work on decor. You’d felt like it was going a little too well with the way that the two of you were uncharacteristically cordial throughout the afternoon. But of course that was too good to be true, because just as you were packing up for the night, Soonyoung had to go and say— 

“Are you happy here?” 

You freeze midway into packing away the multi-colored, Christmas tree-shaped banners. That familiar flash of frustration, that inkling that he’s looking down on you, rises up again. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you say, and he’s immediately prickly. 

“It’s nothing.” He shoves some of the props behind the stage, hasty in his pursuit to end the conversation as fast as possible. “Forget I said anything.” 

“Come on,” you bristle. All the while, you’re also putting things back in place— your movements just a little more forceful than necessary. “Spit it out. You started it.” 

“I was just asking.” 

“You’re never ‘just asking’. Go on, say it.” 

“You—” 

The two of you are glaring at each other, now, your face red and Soonyoung’s fists balled at his side. When you speak, it’s with a tone that could cut through ice. 

“Just because I chose to stay,” you say. “It doesn’t mean my dreams are smaller than yours.” 

Soonyoung looks dumbstruck. His voice is impossibly tight; his words, reverberating in the otherwise empty hall. 

“I wasn’t going to say your dreams are small. It’s just… We—” He backtracks, like the pronoun had been a scalding slip of the tongue. “You could’ve sold out auditoriums.” 

Your answer is immediate, if not a little strained. 

“A sold out auditorium doesn’t matter if the one person you want isn’t at the recital,” you say. “Some people find happiness right where they are, and this is mine.” 

And that’s always been the crux of it, hasn’t it? Soonyoung has tried to make a name for himself in cities, in rooms full of people cheering his name. His definition of success was only achievable in quantity, in scale. Yours was different, and he could never really quite accept that. 

There’s a moment where Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with a pinched expression on his face. He opens his mouth like he might say something— 

“Oi! You two!”

You and Soonyoung jump, the tension that had been simmering between you two disappearing at the interruption. The school’s ancient janitor lingers by the door, squinting at you two. 

“Whaddya think yer still doin’ here?” the old man croaks, wielding his broom in a fashion that still makes you recoil. “It’s past curfew! Geddout!” 

Never mind the fact you and Soonyoung were now in your late twenties and long out of high school. The two of you still cower and meekly mumble, “Sorry, Mr. Cho.” 

It’s snowing again when the two of you step out. Soonyoung’s face is set in stone as he mumbles, “Get in my car.” 

Right. Like that was going to happen. 

With a wordless huff, you begin to march in the opposite direction to him. “Hey,” he calls out. “Where are you going?” 

“Home!” 

“In this— hey, it’s snowing!”

“That’s what happens during the winter!” 

You’d be a little more conscious about having a screaming match in the streets if it wasn’t nearly midnight. Something about the incessant snowfall and the cloak of darkness gives you just a little more courage to speak your mind, to toe that line that the two of you have so haphazardly drawn. 

Soonyoung marches after you, his own misgivings about the weather momentarily forgotten. He’s raring to fight, and it shows in the way he stomps through the snow like an overgrown child. 

“So that’s it, then?” he hollers from a couple of paces behind you. “You’re just going to stay here for the rest of your life, playing it safe? Work at the family restaurant because of filial piety? Marry— I don’t fucking know— guy-next-door Joshua Hong, and have babies, and—” 

“What is your problem?!” you snap, rounding on Soonyoung. He skids to a halt, stopping himself from completely barreling into you. “Why are you acting like you know me?” 

“Because I do!” His voice cracks on the last word. “I know you!”

“No, you don’t.” 

“I know you very well.” 

“From what? Jihoon and Wonwoo’s stories?” There’s a muscle straining in your neck from the way you’ve raised your voice, but you can’t find it in yourself to back down. “Think that’s enough to fill a six-year gap?” 

That seems to get Soonyoung. “You never reached out to me! Not once!” he seethes. 

“Well, neither did you!”

“I didn’t think—” His breath catches. He pushes on. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” 

“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it.” 

“What’s your excuse, then?” he shoots back. “Come on. I’m dying to hear it.” 

What’s your excuse, he’s asking. Why haven’t you reached out? If you were so angry and upset about the radio silence, why did you do nothing about it? 

Several answers occur to you at once. There was Soonyoung’s own flimsy reasoning. I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.

There was something close to the truth, something a little too vulnerable to be spoken out loud. I was mad at you. I hated you for a bit. I think I still hate you even now. 

There was the whisper of something treacherous, something damning. I was scared that I would only end up asking for you to come back. 

None of those words come out. You stay standing across from Soonyoung in the wake of his challenge, your face flushed, your gaze narrow. He glares right back at you, unyielding in his pride and his pain. 

The silence stretches. It becomes an answer in itself. 

“Exactly,” Soonyoung says with a heavy exhale. There’s a spark of flint in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be likened to hurt. “It takes two people to break up. You always seem to forget that.” 

As he begins to stalk away, you’re overcome with that feeling again. That heavy weight in your chest, put there whenever you know he got the last word, whenever he turned out to be right. Soonyoung has only taken about three steps away before you’re bending down and cupping some snow in your hands. 

The hastily-made snowball hits Soonyoung on the back of his head. It splatters against his hair, leaving tiny, glistening flakes tangled in his blonde strands. 

He freezes, but only for a moment. In the blink of an eye, Soonyoung is already crouching down to retaliate. He’s quicker and much more savage, and his revenge soars through the end to land squarely in your chest. 

You stagger backward, the gasp catching in your throat. Oh, it’s on.

What ensues is the most ruthless snowball fight that your small town has seen. Snowballs are hurled with reckless abandon, the ice crystals getting everywhere from your clothes to your socks. Neither of you even bother to try and hide from the onslaught. The two of you take each other’s attacks, every hit punctuated with heatless insults that have simmered too long. 

“You never called—” Soonyoung screeches, sending a cold sphere against your shoulder. 

“You didn’t visit—” you shriek as you shape ammunition in your gloved hands. 

“You deleted every photo of me off your Facebook—” A snowball to your side. 

“You talked to Jihoon and Wonwoo, but not me—” Another square hit to Soonyoung’s chest, sending a puff of powdery snow up into his face.

“Coward!”

“Asshole!”

It feels like hours before the two of you let up. 

The two of you are covered in snow from head to toe; your chests heaving from exertion, your cheeks ruddy from the cold. The heat of the exchange leaves you both puffing breaths that cloud the air between you. 

There’s a hint of something in your stances. Something that feels like it belongs to another time— before the breakup, before the distance. 

Quietly, Soonyoung starts to laugh. 

His hands are on his hips and his head is tilted back. The flakes catch on his eyelashes, his hair, but he keeps his face upturned to the sky as he laughs, and laughs, and laughs. 

That old, familiar sound. The one that warms you up from the inside, whether or not you care to admit it. You’re doubled over, your hands on your knees, as you watch him look more and more like the boy you loved and lost. 

“I hate you,” you choke out, though a corner of your mouth has twitched upward. 

He doesn’t even look at you as he responds.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Missed you, too.” 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“Am I not allowed to?” 

--

“Soonyoung says you two kissed and made up.” 

You shoot Jihoon an unamused glare. 

From across you, he raises his hand in a defensive gesture. “I didn’t believe him, of course,” he insists, though you don’t miss the way he and Wonwoo try to discreetly exchange money under the table. 

Wonwoo catches your suspicious expression and gives you an apologetic grin in return. 

“Made a bet,” he says. 

“You two suck,” you groan. 

Your three’s weekly lunch has gone mostly swimmingly up to the point that Jihoon had brought up Soonyoung. Now, though, with the topic broached, neither of your friends see the need to be discreet about it. 

“I do wonder why Soonie decided to come home now, after all these years,” Wonwoo muses aloud, toying with his chopsticks as he speaks. “Seems a bit out of the blue, doesn’t it?” 

“He came home because Teacher Kang asked him,” you point out. 

One of Jihoon’s eyebrows cocks upward. “Teacher Kang has asked him every year for the past couple of years,” he says. “So it’s not just that, I’m sure.” 

Wonwoo chimes in with, “Must be something real important, then.” 

Jihoon nearly smirks. “Or someone.” 

What feels like your nth groan of the evening escapes you. “Put a sock in it, you two,” you grumble, drawing snickers from your friends.

Jihoon mouths something to Wonwoo. You can’t make it out for certain, but it looks suspiciously like a wordless grumble of Bet’s still on. 

--

Civility is a rare thing to share with Soonyoung. 

With the showcase mere days away, it’s a welcome development. At least it’s easier for the two of you to iron out the chinks in the routines, to ensure the program is up to par with the school’s standards.

But with civility comes an even more fragile thing— hope. 

It’s in the way Soonyoung will hold open doors for you or haul the heavier props on your behalf, much to your chagrin and to Teacher Kang’s amusement. 

It’s in the way Soonyoung starts to make small talk about everything from your day job to your parents, never minding much that he’s the one who has to carry half the conversations. 

It’s in the way Soonyoung tries to make you laugh, and how, one afternoon, he finally succeeds.

You can’t even remember what it was. Some terrible joke about the kids, maybe. All you know is that a snort of laughter had slid out of you, the sound not quite the derisive giggles you’d been giving him the past couple of weeks. 

You’re still chuckling when you see Soonyoung’s face. 

Immediately, you sober up. “What?” you ask, because he’s staring at you with his jaw slack and his eyes slightly wide. 

He tries to rearrange his expression into something more acceptable; it’s too late, given that you’ve already caught him. Soonyoung may have not always been honest, but he was expressive. 

You glare at him, indicating that he’s not about to escape, and he huffs out a defeated sigh. 

“It’s just— I forgot, okay?” 

“Forgot what?” 

“How good happiness looks on you.” 

Who the hell says something like that on a random Thursday? 

Soonyoung still has that vaguely dazed look in his eyes, even though you’ve begun to stare at him like he’s insane. As he walks away to go and refill his water bottle, he nearly collides with one of the auditorium’s poles, drawing raucous laughter from the kids. 

You shush them, the tips of your ears beginning to flame. 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“It was about time.” 

--

It’s nothing short of a miracle, how you, Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Wonwoo all end up at the same table at Taco Joe’s. 

Jihoon had been the one who proposed the idea. So casually, too, like he was readying himself for one of your infamous tirades or a flurry of your punches. Soonyoung wants to grab drinks with all of us.

To Jihoon and Wonwoo’s surprise, you had only responded with, “When?” 

Neither boys want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so they’re extra careful in playing their cards right. Wonwoo vows to be the designated driver. Jihoon holds back on making any jokes about the whole affair. And, Soonyoung— well, he’s just happy to be there. 

“This place really hasn’t changed, huh?” Soonyoung snickers as he sips at his beer. 

There’s not a lot of bars to choose from in your small town, making Taco Joe’s something of an institution. Its low lights, Top 50’s playlist, and cheap drinks attract more of the mid-twenties crowd, though there had been a time in your teenage years when you’d all tried and failed to sneak in. 

“Joe threatened to ban us for life when we first stepped foot in here,” Jihoon reminisces. 

Wonwoo pushes his glasses up his face by the bridge of his nose. “Worse,” he says. “He said he would tell our parents.” 

Simultaneously, the four of you shudder. A small smile tugs at your lips as you extend your cocktail for the boys to cheers with. 

“To vindication,” you announce. 

There’s a ripple of laughter among your friends. 

“Vindication,” they echo, clinking their bottles and glasses with yours. 

A part of you is suspicious at how pleasant the night is going. The conversation is easy, if not a little on the safe side. The drinks are good. The music is more often a hit instead of a miss. It’s shaping up to be a decent evening, though there are a handful of interruptions here and there. 

Kwon Soonyoung is a bit of a local celebrity, after all. 

Everybody and their mother knows about his swanky dance studio in the city, about the idols and celebrities he’s met in his line of work. Every so often, someone will stop by to greet him, to exchange a word or two with him. 

Soonyoung is perfectly amicable to all of them. His smile, practiced; his words, cool and smooth. After the fourth or so person has come up to say hello to the Hoshi, Jihoon voices out what you’ve all been thinking. 

“It’s so exhausting hanging out with you,” Jihoon says dryly.

Soonyoung giggles mid-swig of his alcohol. “Can’t help it.” He fakes a tired sigh, his shoulders rising in a shrug. “Everybody wants a piece of me.” 

“I’ll tear you to pieces if anyone else comes up to us,” Wonwoo warns. 

Your gaze flicks over Wonwoo’s shoulder, towards someone approaching your corner table. “Get those claws ready, Wonu,” you say.

When Joshua Hong saunters up to your group’s table, though, his greeting for Soonyoung is cursory at best. 

“Nice to see you back, Kwon,” the man says politely before turning his attention to you. “Hey, you.” 

You straighten in your seat. Jihoon and Wonwoo exchange a look. Soonyoung’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as he gives a grumbled ‘hello’ to Joshua’s lackluster greeting. 

It’s apparent that Joshua isn’t there for him, because Joshua is instead smiling at you. “Hey,” you respond in kind. “What’s up?” 

Joshua had been an upperclassman during your school days, part of the infamous trio featuring troublemaker Yoon Jeonghan and varsity captain Choi Seungcheol. But Joshua was more on the mild side, known for his volunteer work at the local choir. He wasn’t any less unattainable, though, and you’re reminded of why Soonyoung so callously threw his name out during your more recent spat. 

Prior to dating Soonyoung, you did have a raging crush on Joshua, after all. You’re briefly reminded of it as he flashes you a warm smile. “I was hoping I could buy you a drink,” he says. “For… you know.” 

There’s absolutely nothing coy in Joshua’s words. He’s not suggestive, not trying to come on to you. All the same, the three boys at your table react like Joshua had just proposed. 

Jihoon bites back a grin. Wonwoo cocks his head to one side. Soonyoung shoots back a quarter of his beer. 

For… you know, Joshua is saying, and you know exactly what he means even though the rest aren’t privy to it. You’re already getting to your feet before you can register it. “Yeah,” you say, nodding towards the bar. “Let’s go.” 

None of your friends say a thing as you step away with Joshua, but you can feel their eyes on your back. You know you’re going to get hell for it later— but, for now, you focus on the small talk that Joshua has to offer. 

He lets you pick out your cocktail of choice. As the bartender goes to make it, Joshua smiles down at you. There had been a time where you might’ve keened over at the sight of it; now, though, it only makes your heart flutter a bit. 

His voice is just loud enough to be heard over the thumping music, but low enough that it’s just for the two of you. 

“Thank you for your help,” he says. “Really. You’re a life-saver.” 

Your expression softens underneath the lights of the bar. “How’s your dad?” 

Joshua’s smile is a little tight, but not any less sincere. “Better,” he responds. “It’s rough, of course, but he’s coping.” 

Earlier in the year, Joshua’s father had been one of your firm’s clients. It had been a lot more challenging than you thought, working with someone you personally knew. The arduous process had involved unsecured debts, scarred credit scores, and seized collaterals, but you were ultimately able to help the Hongs in closing down their music school. 

“I’m glad.” You pause, as if realizing that’s not quite the right thing to say. “I’m not glad about what happened—” 

Joshua’s laughter cuts through your tirade. Your shoulders ease when you realize it’s not a particularly mean laugh. More of an amused sound at your panic. 

“Don’t worry, I get it,” he reassures as the bartender slides your drinks to you. Joshua gives the other man a nod and a mumbled promise of tipping later.

“I don’t want to keep you,” Joshua says. “Just wanted to show my appreciation.” 

“You didn’t have to.” Your fingers wrap around the drink he brought you. “But thank you, anyway.” 

Joshua nods, grins. The lines are clear as day. He’s not flirting, not trying to get in your pants or anything. The drink is exactly that: A show of gratitude. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Some old version of you might have been disappointed. Tonight, you are only oddly relieved. The two of you talk a little more— about things that are neither here nor there— before Joshua lets you go. 

Upon your return to your table, you’re greeted with a sight for sore eyes. 

Somehow, in the fifteen or so minutes that you were gone, Soonyoung had already shot back his first bottle of beer. As you slide back into your seat next to Wonwoo, your bespectacled friend quietly divulges, “That’s his third one.” 

“Third?” You glance toward Soonyoung, your eyebrows raised quizzically. “Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning or something?” 

Soonyoung only flashes you a grin before taking another swig. He ignores your question in favor of chatting Jihoon’s ear off; the latter throws you a bemused look before going back to his conversation with Soonyoung. 

You huff out a sigh as you go to nurse the cocktail that Joshua got you. 

“I wonder what’s gotten into him,” Wonwoo says, his tone just a little too smug for his own good. 

You shoot him a sideways glare. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, hiding his blooming smile behind a sip of his soda. 

As the night wears on, you begin to feel that familiar buzz in your system. The telltale signs of your tipsiness leave you pleasantly sated— your laughter a little less restrained, your brain a lot more empty. So when Soonyoung leans across the table to yell at you, “Let’s dance!”, your first instinct is not to say Fuck off. 

The words that come out instead are “To what song?” 

Soonyoung is already standing up and moving around the table to get to your side. An intoxicated Jihoon and sober Wonwoo only watch on, spectators to this impending dumpster fire, as Soonyoung reaches out to tug you out of your seat. 

“Any song,” he breathes. His face is flushed a deep shade of red, but his eyes are as bright as ever. “Anything you want.” 

There’s a right thing to do in this situation.

The right thing to do would be to let Soonyoung down politely. To tell him no, you’re not interested in dancing. You’re happy to drink with him and your friends, but you’re not about to indulge him with the thing that once made the two of you so close. You don’t think your heart can take it. 

But you’re two cocktails in. The music is good. And Soonyoung is looking at you with that absolutely incandescent expression, faring not any better than you in the game of sobriety. How could you deny him? 

You let him pull you to your feet. His hand stays wrapped around your wrist as he drags you out onto the dance floor, as he leans over to the DJ and yells, “Do you have any GD?!”

The current track transitions into the unmistakable beats of Good Boy. Soonyoung’s face lights up like a firework. 

You’re drunk enough to laugh at him, with him, as you easily fall into the decade-old dance routine. No matter how long it’s been, it seems like your body still remembers every step, every hand movement. 

You’re drunk enough to not care that Wonwoo is not-so discreetly filming the two of you, that Jihoon is wearing a knowing smirk. Come tomorrow, your friends will have a lot to say about this moment. But, right now, it’s all inconsequential. 

You’re drunk enough to dance. To dance in a way that isn’t simply for Christmas showcase purposes. To dance and remember why you loved it so much in the first place. 

To dance with the boy who got you into it in the first place. 

Good Boy spins into Home Sweet Home, then Fantastic Baby, then Gee. You and Soonyoung dance through it all. Honestly, you’re no longer built for this the same way that you once were, and you’re certainly not up to par with Soonyoung.

His drunkenness does nothing to dampen his energy or his dancing skills. He moves across the floor with the practiced ease of a professional, putting everyone to shame without even trying. His toothy smile never leaves his face as the two of you swing and pop and glide. 

By the time the DJ starts to play more modern pop, you call for a time-out. Soonyoung stumbles after you and the two of you collapse onto a nearby couch, boneless from the non-stop dancing. 

Wonwoo is off to one side, chatting with a girl, while Jihoon is nowhere to be found. You wouldn’t hold it past the latter to be on a smoke break of some sorts; nights out always tended to drain him, after all. 

“Insane,” Soonyoung croaks out. Blonde strands of his hair stick to his face due to sweat. You resist the urge to fix it.

“I haven’t danced like that in ages,” you say, rolling your shoulders to fight off the growing ache in your body. 

Soonyoung tries to laugh. The sound comes out more like a wheeze. His next words are mumbled in between attempts to catch his breath. “You’re good, babe.” 

Come Back Home is thumping through the speakers. You try to focus on that instead of Soonyoung’s Freudian slip; you fail miserably, and it must show on your face because Soonyoung sucks in some air through his teeth. 

“Sorry.” He’s laughing, but the sound is a bit rough around the edges. “Moment of weakness.” 

A beat. “Wanna dance some more?” he prompts. 

Whether it’s a desperate bid to run from his words or a sincere offer by a man who simply lives to dance, you don’t question it. “Yeah,” you say a little too quickly. “Let’s dance.” 

You dance until you feel like your feet are going to fall off. Soonyoung matches your pace, never missing a beat. When he needs to take a break, he drinks some more— an endless cycle of dance floor shenanigans and drawn-out sips of beer. 

It’s probably why he’s swaying by the time that you’re all calling it a night. Wonwoo and Jihoon flank Soonyoung on either side, the blonde still somehow having the tenacity to chatter while dragging his feet. He’s talking out of his ass about one thing or another, like music these days “not being as good as the OGs,” and you can sense Wonwoo’s exasperation over the whole thing. 

“Living in Seoul has done absolutely nothing for your tolerance,” Wonwoo grumbles, prompting Soonyoung to go into a long-winded rant about the cultural differences in drinking culture. 

The relief on Wonwoo’s face is palpable as he shoves Soonyoung into the backseat of his car. 

Jihoon gives a nod of his own. “You’ll be good to drive?” he asks Wonwoo.  

“Didn’t drink a drop,” Wonwoo chirps. “You?” 

“Sobered up, like, two hours ago,” Jihoon says wryly. He gives you a vicious side eye— wordlessly blaming you for not being able to go home any earlier, since he was your designated driver— and you raise your shoulders in a half-shrug. 

“You were the one who invited me out to drink.” Your voice is hoarse from all the alcohol, from the physical exertion of non-stop dancing. 

You’re somehow lucid enough to register that Soonyoung is calling for you. There’s a slight pout on his face, like he’s upset to be missing out on the conversation. He’s bracing himself against the frame of the car door, his legs swung over the seat, as you gingerly approach.

“What?” you ask.  

This close, you can smell his faint cologne, mingling with the scent of alcohol and sweat. 

This close, you can see the way his eyes are slightly unfocused; his mouth, still bearing the hint of a glowing smile. 

“You—” he croaks out. 

His gaze darts to your lips. It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. You don’t miss it.

Your breath stills in your chest, and Soonyoung is looking up at your face like he’s searching for something. Denial? Reciprocity? 

He must not have found what he was looking for, because the words he grumbles are, “I’m going to hurl.” 

Wonwoo’s panicked shriek cuts through the otherwise quiet parking lot. 

“Not in my fucking car, asswipe!” 

--

Soonyoung’s hangover the next day is comical. 

You can’t help but snicker as he rolls up to the showcase’s dry run with shades over his eyes and a large cup of coffee in his shaking hands. 

“You suck,” he hisses to you as he slides on to the bench next to you. Teacher Kang is busy heralding the students, getting them into their costumes and places, so the two of you have a minute alone before the hubbub strikes up. 

“You’re the one who can’t hold down his alcohol,” you respond, eyeing his slumped form with amusement. 

Soonyoung mumbles some incoherent cusses, his free hand reaching up to rub at his temples. 

“God, my last memory was Hong coming up to the table,” he grouses. 

You’re reminded of the inordinate amount of alcohol he downed in your brief absence. I wonder what’s gotten into him, Wonwoo had said. 

“That clears,” you say sympathetically. 

There’s a moment’s pause before Soonyoung tentatively asks, “Did the two of you ever…?” 

You don’t immediately register what he’s asking about Joshua. When it hits you, though, you find a startled laugh sliding past your lips. Because there’s Wonwoo’s answer, even though you don’t recognize it then and there. 

“Hong? No, no.” For reasons you can’t quite explain, you feel compelled to tack on, “I haven’t really had the time to date.” 

“Oh.” It kills you, how Soonyoung almost sounds relieved. “Me, too. I mean— me neither.” 

“Ah.” 

“Running a dance studio is a lot of work.” 

“Right.” 

“And I’m sure— law school, right? That was a lot of work, too.” 

“Right, yeah.” 

It’s a stilted conversation, one heavy in its implications. The real things that the two of you want to say, want to address, linger on the surface, but neither of you seem to want to break that ice. 

You settle, instead, for this moment. For the negligible distance between the two of you on the bleachers and how it closes, slow but steady, like the ticking hands of a clock. 

Your shoulder just barely presses against Soonyoung’s. 

Neither of you move away. 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“Because I love you, and I miss you.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“Only one of those is a lie, actually.” 

--

You’ve always liked being front of house during the showcase.

You’re a familiar face to the parents of the children, to the community members who attended the event every year. Their warmth is a welcome reprieve from your nerves. 

You make small talk. You usher people to their seats. You try not to wonder where the hell Kwon Soonyoung is. 

Despite having his calling card, you haven’t deigned to reach out. It’s tucked away in a drawer at home; you don’t quite know what to do with it. Maybe you’ll actually save his number one of these days. 

You’re entertaining the thought when you feel a hand at your elbow. The smiling face of Iseul’s mother— the pompous but well-meaning Mrs. Hwang— greets you. 

“There’s no need for that,” she says with a chuckle as you fold into a bow. You don’t miss the way she nonetheless preens at your formalities. It’s why you keep up with it. 

You let her link your arms and, out of instinct, you begin to lead her to one of the free seats in the auditorium. “Are you excited for this year’s show, Mrs. Hwang?” you ask conversationally. 

“You know it,” she answers. “Iseul has been talking non-stop about her performance, but she refuses to tell me what song to expect!”

You’d recognize Mrs. Hwang’s baiting tendencies from a mile away. With a curt giggle, you tell her, “You’ll find out soon enough, Mrs. Hwang. I promise it’ll be worth the suspense.” 

The older woman gives you a disapproving frown, but it smooths out as she seems to realize a change in topic. The auditorium is notably a little more packed this year, enough to have the volunteers bringing out additional Monobloc chairs. 

“I guess people want to see what the Kwon boy has done to the showcase, hm?” she notes, speaking into existence the fact that you’ve neglected to acknowledge so far.

Surprisingly, you don’t feel bitter about it. People were showing up to assess Soonyoung’s choreography, to bask in the product of his labor. There’s a twinge of something in your chest. It could almost be mistaken for pride.  

Mrs. Hwang tacks on, “Mighty shame.” 

That throws you off. “Pardon?” 

She doesn’t respond immediately, her eyes zeroing in on an empty chair by the front of the stage. She practically drags you there as she continues, “It’s really so unfortunate. The whole thing about his dance studio tanking.” 

The whole thing about his dance studio tanking. 

What the hell was she talking about? 

The universe, once again, had to be messing with you. You’re convinced this is some skit. Some buildup to a joke. 

But the punch line never comes, and you end up admitting, “I don’t think I’ve heard about that yet, Mrs. Hwang.” 

Your voice is surprisingly even for someone whose world was closing in. If Mrs. Hwang can sense the trepidation in your demeanor, she makes no indication of it. You’re grateful for her obliviousness, even, because she only keeps talking as she settles into her seat. 

“My girls are always talking about it,” she says, referring to the group of forty-something-year-old women who like to gather and gossip in the town’s sole Italian restaurant. “That’s why he’s back. Couldn’t hack it out there.” 

When she glances up at you with a scrutinizing expression, you just know you’re not going to like what she says next. You’re proven right when she says, “We thought he’d ask for your help, actually. Isn’t liquidation your specialty?” 

You can’t be bothered to correct the woman over the technicalities. You give her a tight smile, a nod of your head, a polite ‘goodbye’ as you take your leave. 

There are much more pressing matters, you think to yourself, as you go to greet more guests, make sure the music is all queued up, check in on the host’s script.

You didn’t spend over a month preparing for tonight only to lose yourself before it’s even begun. You refuse to let the new piece of information trip you up, even though it has your heart acting like a caged animal underneath your ribs. 

The showcase goes by without a hitch. The children are more than phenomenal; they’re perfect. 

The audience is enamored. The teachers are overjoyed. 

You want nothing more than to go home and tear up Soonyoung’s calling card. 

As the showcase wraps up to enthusiastic applause, Teacher Kang snatches the microphone from the host for one last announcement. 

“This wouldn’t have been possible without two of our very tireless volunteers,” she says, and— from backstage— you wince. Before you know it, you’re being pushed out onto the stage.

Soonyoung exits from the other stage wing.

He’s managed to evade you the entire showcase, and now you realize why. In his arms, he holds a monstrous bouquet. Yellow acacias, striped carnations, bunch-flowered daffodils. Your first thought is how expensive it might have been, to find out-of-season blooms in the thick of winter. 

Your second thought is that you want to hurl, but that’s neither here nor there. 

As Soonyoung strides in from the other side of the stage to meet you in the middle, he sees it. He sees the hint of trepidation underneath your practiced grin, sees the way your eyes flash momentarily. His own grin drops ever so slightly. 

But the two of you are in an auditorium, on a stage in front of Namyangju’s best and brightest. Neither of you can afford to give voice to what you feel. 

Soonyoung hands you the bouquet. You nod in acknowledgement. 

The two of you instinctively reach for each other’s hands.

You hadn’t noticed that the crowd had gotten to their feet. A standing ovation. It feels like an echo of the past, a cruel reminder of an alternate universe. 

Even so, your smile never wavers. Neither does Soonyoung’s. He raises your hand. The two of you take a bow. 

The Great Pretenders put on their best show yet.

--

“What was that?” 

A part of you is surprised that Soonyoung found you. The moment the showcase officially concluded, you were booking it out of the auditorium before he could even get a word in edgewise. Gracefully, the dozens of people hounding him for photos and small talk let you widen the gap. 

Still, he caught up. Just as you were passing by the godforsaken playground that had witnessed the ending of it all. Oh, the universe and its jokes. 

Soonyoung is red-faced, like you’d embarrassed him somehow despite the convincing act you both put on. Your fingers tighten around the bouquet he gave you. 

“What was that?” he repeats, and what little restraint you had left snaps. 

“Why did you come home?” you ask point blank. 

“Teacher Kang—” 

“Don’t,” you snipe. “Teacher Kang asked you last year. And the year before that. Why did you come home now, Soonyoung?” 

The question hangs heavy in the early December evening. You and Soonyoung are staring at each other, mere paces away from the swing set where the two of you made your choices.

He doesn’t answer right away, so you prompt him with, “Is it because of me?” 

Soonyoung misinterprets the question. You can see the way his eyes light up, the way his lips part like he’s just about to say something of consequence. 

You almost feel guilty about the next words that tear out of you. “You’re going bankrupt,” you say, and the hope on his face fizzles out like a popped lightbulb. 

“Who told you—” he chokes out. 

“So it’s true?” 

Kwon Soonyoung is struck dumb.

Soonyoung, whose mouth ran faster than his brain. Soonyoung, who was full of quick quips and witty remarks. 

Soonyoung, who is now staring at you like you’ve told him the world was about to end. 

You contemplate throwing his bouquet in his face. It will make for a dramatic, pretty picture— the petals falling onto the soft snow, the fuck you loud despite being unspoken. For now, you only clutch the arrangement closer to your chest like it's a lifeline.

“And here I thought—” Your breath hitches on a scoff, the puff of air visible in the chill. “I was a fool who thought you came back for me.” 

The truth cuts. Your laugh bitterly as you go on, “I guess you still did, though, huh? Because you need me. What? Were you hoping to avail of cheap services, Kwon?” 

“That’s not—” 

“That’s exactly it!” Your tone is shrill. Soonyoung always did bring out the worst in you. “You were away for six years, and now you’ve come crawling back—” 

“Do you think I wanted to fail?” 

Soonyoung’s voice rises, his frustration bubbling over to match yours. 

“I starved out there,” he bites out. “Ate cup noodles for a year so the studio could afford rent for one more month. Sold half of my stuff so I could pay my employees. It was so hard.” 

The way Soonyoung’s voice breaks on the last word makes something in your heart clench. For a moment, you think it might be pity, but you kill the feeling as soon as it tries to make itself known. 

You don’t want to pity Soonyoung, which is both an insult and a grace. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask instead, even though a part of you already knows the answer. 

A sound that’s almost like a delirious laugh escapes him. “Not when I was the one who made it out,” he responds. 

You never realized how much you’d prefer Soonyoung’s cocky, self-assured self over this version of him. This boy— man— who is defeated and resigned. Even in your anger, there is a small part of you that wants to do something to wipe that look off his face.  

“I made it out,” he repeats wearily, like it’s taking everything in him to face the truth of being Namyangju’s failing poster boy. 

He continues, “I gave up everything to be there. I gave up you.”

Your grip on the bouquet tightens. There’s a faint prickle behind your eyes, but you refuse to let those tears fall. “You did that like it was easy,” you mumble, your voice just loud enough to carry. 

Soonyoung meets your gaze. He looks like he’s on the verge of sobbing himself, but his tone brokers no arguments. 

“It wasn’t,” he says.

And that was that. 

You’ve never been able to stand not having the last word. You clear your throat, attempting to speak through the lump forming there. “Yeah, well,” you say shakily. “You’re not the only one who lost something.” 

It’s a shitty comparison and you know it. Soonyoung’s sacrifices dwarf yours. You weren’t the one who moved away, who bore the weight of an entire city’s pride. 

Thankfully, Soonyoung doesn’t call you out on it. He only takes a sharp exhale and turns his gaze away, his eyes fixed on the swings. 

When he speaks, his voice is quiet. Almost like the words are an afterthought. “For the record— that night?” he says. You don’t have to ask for clarification. You know exactly which night he’s talking about. 

“I was hoping you’d change my mind,” he confesses. 

A physical blow to the chest would have hurt less. You stagger, but you try to mask it like you’re taking a step back. Like you’re walking away, even as your eyes never leave Soonyoung’s face. 

“And I was hoping I’d be worth staying for,” you say with a humorless laugh, the distance between the two of you growing, growing, growing. 

Your parting words are the proverbial nail on the coffin: “I guess we both didn’t get what we wanted.” 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“I didn’t know where else to go.” 

--

For once, Jihoon and Wonwoo have nothing to say. 

No wisecrack. No jab. No exchange of money in some backhanded bet. 

They listen as you recount the salient points of the argument. You keep the personal stuff out of your own retelling, focusing only on the broad strokes. The biggest concern lies in one nagging question. 

“Did you know?” you ask, your hands bracing the table in front of you. 

“No,” Jihoon says immediately. 

Wonwoo chimes in with a quiet “Me neither.” 

You know these boys. You’ve seen them lie to their parents about their homework, lie to their girlfriends about where they were. 

They’re not lying now. You know that much. 

A shaky exhale escapes you. It’s been three days since the fight and you’ve yet to run into Soonyoung. You wouldn’t hold it past him to avoid you, either by steering clear from the places you frequent or getting on the first bus back to Seoul. 

“When he asked about how you were doing,” Jihoon says gruffly. “I thought it was just— yearning or some shit.” 

“Me, too,” Wonwoo adds. 

Yearning or shit. The words almost make you laugh. 

The pinched expression on your face prompts Wonwoo to ask, “Are you upset?” 

‘Upset’ feels like too light of a term to describe the maelstrom of emotions within you. There are facts: You wish you had known. You could have afforded to be kinder. You are afraid that you will never stop being angry. 

You answer Wonwoo’s question with a mumbled, “Would it be cliché to say that I’m just disappointed?” 

“Ah.” His face is thoughtful, understanding. “Because you expected something from him.” 

“That’s not it,” you say dryly. 

It is. 

The three of you lapse into contemplative silence. Jihoon breaks it after a couple of moments, his tone soft and serious. 

“I know it’s shitty,” he says. “But I do hope that he’s okay.” 

That would be the mature thing to do. Even Wonwoo is nodding his agreement, willing to set aside his own gripes in favor of well wishing.

You can’t bring yourself to do the same. The platitude sticks in your throat until you feel like it will suffocate you. 

--

Soonyoung has an alibi for not showing up to Teacher Kang’s post-processing session. 

You’re grateful that the elderly woman doesn’t go on about the details of his absence. She mentions something about him being busy with the holidays, and you take it in stride. 

You try not to picture the way his jaw might’ve twitched before sending out the text, before lying to get away. 

“Everybody loved the show,” Teacher Kang gushes. “I’m so proud of you, dear. I really do hope we can have Soonyoung on board more often.” 

An offhand joke of “we’ll probably be seeing a lot more of him in the near future” crosses your mind, but you hold it back. You may be calloused, but you’re not heartless. 

You nod. You agree with Teacher Kang. You hold it together, up until you’re halfway out the door and she calls you back for one last word. 

“You know,” she starts. “I remember the two of you when you were kids.”

You’d been dreading this— the inevitable trip down memory lane. You thought you had escaped it, but now you’re facing it with one of the world’s fakest smiles. 

“That was a long time ago,” you say. 

“It was.” There’s a glimmer in Teacher Kang’s eye. Something unbearably tender. “Soonyoung always made you smile a certain way. You’ve started smiling like that again. It’s nice to see.” 

You don’t know how you manage to laugh it off, to bid Teacher Kang goodbye and make your way back to your car. Your hands are shaking as you slide into the driver’s seat of your car.

The school’s parking lot is gracefully empty. It’s a good thing, because then no one can hear you as you fold in half and screech. 

You scream until your voice goes hoarse, until the windows shake. 

You scream until you can’t hear the way your chest is caving in on your heart. 

--

Your theory of running into everyone but Soonyoung is proven when you’re sooner to cross paths with Mama Kwon.

Your carts nearly collide in the pasta aisle of the grocery store. You’re already bowing, apologizing profusely, when you realize that you recognize the woman holding a can of pesto.

She says your name with the fondness that could rival your own mother’s. It takes everything in you not to bolt at the sound of it.

“What a coincidence,” she says with a tinkling laugh. 

You know in your heart of hearts that it’s exactly that. A coincidence. Still, you can’t help but think some higher power is out to get you. Call it karmic justice. 

“How have you been, Mrs. Kwon?” you ask, feeling the slight nip of not addressing the woman as you typically might. 

She notices too, if her slightly furrowed brow is any indication. She manages to rearrange her expression into something more neutral as she answers. 

“You know how the holidays are,” she says, wielding her pesto bottle in an absentminded gesture. “It’s a full house!” 

That stings. 

You’ve heard from your mother how the past couple of years, Mama Kwon would complain about her household feeling empty during the holidays. The seat at the dining table stayed vacant for the son that refused to come home. 

You don’t know how much she knows about the state of the dance studio, so you decide to play it safe. “I’m sure it is,” you say. 

The small talk is tearing you up from the inside, but you don’t want to be rude. Don’t want to be a stranger to the woman who once cared for you so deeply— who probably still cares for you, if you really thought of it. 

The question is out of you before you can hold it back. “Are you with Soonyoung?” 

What would you even do with that information? Would you have booked it if she said ‘yes, he’s right around the corner’? Would you have cried if she revealed that he headed back to the city? 

You’re not sure. 

Here’s what happens instead: A sigh nearly breaks out of you when Mama Kwon responds, “He’s in the next shop over, getting some repairs for the car. We’re meeting at Italianni's for lunch.” 

Still here, a small voice murmurs in the back of your mind. Hasn’t left for Seoul just yet. 

You shake the thought away as Mama Kwon delicately prompts, “Would you like to join us?” 

Mama Kwon is probably not inviting you solely out of politeness. She’s making the offer because she wants you to be there. She wants you to be at the same table as her family, sharing a pizza and whatever the restaurant’s special for the day is. She wants you to sit next to Soonyoung and play nice, even though you currently can’t stomach the thought of being anywhere near him. 

For some reason, it makes you want to cry. 

To lose somebody in a breakup is painful, yes. To lose all the things that came with it— like the family that you might have learned to love yourself? 

A different type of ache all together. 

Your smile is so painfully fake, almost hurting the edges of your mouth, as you try to let her down gently. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” you say. “But thank you for thinking of me.” 

For once, The Great Pretenders is met with negative reviews. 

Then again, nothing ever really escaped Mama Kwon’s scrutinizing gaze. She surveys your expression and purses her lips. You can practically see the way that the cogs turn in her brain, as if trying to decide on the response that will do the least amount of damage. 

It doesn’t matter how gentle she tries to be. The words that she eventually extends still hurt like a bitch. 

“He still talks about you a lot,” she muses. 

Oh. 

“Oh?” 

“Nothing bad,” Mama Kwon says quickly. She laughs again, smiling very much like how her son might. 

“Just—” She leans in. Your body autonomously mimics the action.

You’re reminded of being younger, of when she’d do the exact same thing to whisper you some ‘secret’. I got Soonyoung new shoes for Christmas. The car side mirror is busted because of me. I packed you extra of those choco pies you like. 

Today, she whispers, “I think he came home for you.” 

--

“Why did you come home?”

“I had a nightmare that I visited and I couldn’t recognize a thing. All the street names were different. The buildings were new. I kept running, trying to look for something familiar, and I just— I was just lost. And that sucked. This was mine once. You know?” 

“It still is.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me. It isn’t anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.” 

--

“You know, I really have missed your mother’s cooking.”

You smile ruefully at Soonyoung’s words. 

He’s digging heartily into your mother’s signature kimchi jjigae, and you have half the mind to tell him to close his mouth as he chews. Instead, you let him devour the dish. 

It had taken a little bit of masterminding to pull this off. Maybe it would’ve been easier to send Soonyoung a text of Let’s meet up, but your blasted pride was one of the last things you had left. You’d be damned if you were going to give that away, too. 

You enlisted Jihoon and Wonwoo’s help in orchestrating this, in convincing Soonyoung that he could sneak into your family restaurant undetected. Sure, the blonde had been more than a little miffed when his friends ditched him and left him with you, though his irritation was short-lived in the face of the food he had been craving for God-knows-how-long. 

“Maybe that’s because you’ve only been eating shin ramyun,” you point out. 

Soonyoung barely looks up from his bowl as he shovels more food into his mouth. “Low blow,” he says in between bites.  

You wince. “Sorry.” 

“You’re not really sorry.” 

“No, I am.” 

That drags Soonyoung’s attention away from his stew. 

His guarded expression slots right back into place, like he’s realizing you have some ulterior motive beyond feeding him. He rests his spoon against his bowl and leans back into his chair. With one eyebrow raised, he says, “This feels a lot like the lead-in to a breakup.” 

A bark of laughter escapes you. Of course Soonyoung would make a joke like that. 

You reach into your pocket until you’ve found what you’re looking for. Wordlessly, you slide it across the table until it’s resting by Soonyoung’s hand.

“I’ll give you a discount,” you tell him. “But only, like, fifteen percent. Anything more than that is just pushing it.” 

Your calling card stares up at him. It bears your name along with your firm’s address, your phone number, and your title. Consumer bankruptcy lawyer. 

Even now, Soonyoung can’t help but be expressive. His wide eyes are fixed on the card you’ve laid out. For a moment, your offer hangs in precious balance, but you don’t have a single urge to take it back. It’s entirely, wholly for Soonyoung to take. 

He asks the question that you know is coming. “Why are you doing this?” he says, his words like a raw nerve. 

You almost smile. Almost. 

In the past week that you’ve mulled it over, you’ve reached at least a dozen different answers. 

Because Jihoon and Wonwoo worry about you.

Because it’s the right thing to do. 

Because Teacher Kang talks about you like you hung the stars and the moon. 

Because I owe you one. 

Because I don’t want you to let Mama Kwon down.

Because I’ve missed you, and I want you to be happy, even if that happiness has nothing to do with me. 

The answer that eventually, finally comes to you is none of the above. 

You simply say, “Because you’re my favorite ex.” 

--

The call asking for your help never comes. 

A couple of days after that lunch, you find something on your desk. Your calling card. 

If it weren’t for one small thing, you would’ve thought that it was a stray card of yours that you’d forgotten. But then you catch sight of a doodle in one corner right before you’re about to tuck the card away in your closet. 

A crude drawing of a tiger, with crescent-shaped eyes and a toothy smile. 

You instantly know what it means. Sure enough, you hear from Jihoon that same evening. 

Kwon Soonyoung has left as quietly as he arrived. 

There is relief. There is regret. How you feel ultimately doesn’t matter, because you knew it would always come to this— a choice being made.

He left. You stayed. 

The world spins madly on. 

The last of the snow is melting on an unassuming Tuesday afternoon when your phone pings in your pocket. You fish it out to find two texts from an unknown number. The first is a link to a news article. 

You’re suspicious, but curiosity always did kill the cat. The article loads and fills your screen.

Eye of the Tiger Dance Studio To Start Offering Child-Friendly Dance Lessons

By: Xu Minghao

SEOUL, South Korea – Eye of the Tiger Dance Studio, founded by renowned choreographer and performer Kwon Soonyoung, better known as HOSHI, is expanding its mission to inspire a new generation of dancers. The studio announced it will officially begin offering child-friendly dance lessons following a successful pilot program last month.

Parents and young aspiring dancers can look forward to the official launch of child-friendly lessons early next year. According to HOSHI, the initiative aims to “nurture the joy of dance from an early age and build a foundation for self-expression and confidence.”

The studio piloted its first all-children dance classes in January, offering a creative and supportive environment for young dancers to explore movement. The program’s success has led to an upcoming showcase featuring the children at the KB Art Hall in Gangnam. 

HOSHI, celebrated for his innovative choreography and passion for dance, revealed the inspiration behind this new direction. 

“There was a time I felt lost, like I had lost my purpose for dance,” HOSHI shared, reflecting on a challenging period in his career. “I was going through the motions, using dance as a way to distract myself from everything else, rather than embracing it as a part of who I am.” 

“But I realized something important recently,” he goes on. “Dance shouldn’t be an escape or a vacation. It should be a homecoming.” 

And that’s exactly what they hope to do with their upcoming showcase. Details on the event can be found here. 

The second text bears only a couple of words, but it changes the ending of everything.

There’s only one seat that will matter in that auditorium, it reads.

Please make sure it’s not empty. 

--

“Why did you come home?” 

“Home had you.”

[pshaven]

toxic bsf!sunghoon. WALK WITH ME HERE !! (minors dni, cw oral (m!receiving, f!implied)

"girl... you serious right now?" sunghoon groans, his tone sassy as his body leans back casually, his arms prop behind his head while he gives you a pointed stare.

you narrow your eyes at him, your arms folded across your chest in a defensive manner. "i am. are you serious right now?" you direct his question back at him, a deep scowl taking over your face, but sunghoon just grins at you.

"i am as well. i don't see why you need to entertain those boys," he shrugs nonchalantly, his fangs peeking out from his upper lip as his smirk stretches, watching your face churn.

you scoff, "you're actually the worst. you're scaring all of them off, how am i ever supposed to get a boyfriend?" you complain in a whine, your brows knitted together in frustration from the lack of love in your life.

sunghoon cocks an eyebrow, his head tilted to the side as his smirk remains plastered on his face. "oh? if that's the case, then i can be your boyfriend." he retorts quickly, as if it was the most simple solution in the entire universe. well, to him it was.

your eyes widen, caught off-guard by his words. "uh... no," you quickly shoot him down, your scowl only deepening further but sunghoon isn't at all wavering as his expression remains the same.

"no? you sure?" he taunts, now leaning forward, his elbows propped up on his knees as he gazes at you. "we can play pretend, like when we were little y'know. you can practice on me so that you're prepared for the real thing," he pauses before a snicker leaves his lips, "well, that is, if you ever actually get a boyfriend." he adds on tauntingly, as if challenging you.

and he's got you, hook, line, and sinker.

"i'm kinda upset," sunghoon muses as your lips wrap around his cock, your tongue gliding along his prominent veins that causes him to hiss and throw his head back. "thought you would suck at this. who taught you before i could, hm?" he ponders, his tone is mockingly sweet with a hint of disappointment.

as you take him in deeper, a guttural moan escapes his lips. it serves to motivate you more, your tongue running down the underside of his twitching cock. you shake your head, your lips still wrapped around his cock as you hum in reply.

"fuck-, doesn't matter though, right?" he continues to ramble, asking rhetorical questions that you can't even answer due to your mouth being occupied. "'cause mine is bigger than other cocks you've sucked before, huh?"

you can only moan and hum in response to him, his grip on your hair keeping your mouth on him. he's not forceful with you, but he's making sure you don't pull off too far. he lets out a breathy chuckle at your expression, your brows knitted together and your mouth open with his heavy cock inside it. he could really get used to this, he'll have to 'play pretend' with you more.

an unexpected gasp escapes him as your tongue swipes at his sensitive tip, licking at the precum. "oh, fuck..." he moans, his eyes screwed shut as he enjoys the warmth and wetness of your mouth around him, your tongue working more expertly than he had expected.

"you'll let me cum on your face, right?" he moans out, his free arm now thrown over his forehead as you continue to suck him off. "a good friend would let their best friend cum all over their pretty face..." he muses, his voice now becoming breathless and airy.

with how his cock is twitching and pulsating wildly in your mouth, you can tell he's inching close to cumming. you nod your head, your throat swallowing around his cock that causes him to almost let out a whine. he barely catches your nod but he doesn't care- you won't stay mad at him for too long, right? he's your best friend after all...

sunghoon's grip on your hair tightens, quickly pulling you off of him as his other hand comes down to stroke his cock, your saliva and drool providing lewd squelches to fill up the room. his hips shift, bucking and twitching up as his moans and gasps reach your ears.

he keeps your head positioned right underneath his cock as he continues to stroke it. with a particular harsh stroke, he groans into the air, his cum painting your cheeks and lower chin white, some landing onto your shirt messily.

as sunghoon catches his breath, his chest heaving up and down, he eyes you, clearly enjoying the sight of you defiled in his cum. "so can i pretend to eat you out now or...?"

[parfaitblogs]

snow on the beach ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your boyfriend takes you to see the snow in the oddest of places. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. mention of a past fling (between spencer and r). snow on a beach? word count: >1k a/n: summer fling!spencer reid/reader is a dynamic ive been cooking up with margot... here is them as an actual couple for liamas. we'll give you their origin story one day. 

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

"Do you want to see the snow?"

When your boyfriend had asked you that nine hours ago, you did not expect to be stuck inside a car for eight hours straight. With one singular pit stop for the bathroom and some dinner. You could've cussed him out on the spot. 

You didn't.

Instead, as you stepped out of the car at an awfully familiar location, you whipped your head around to Spencer Reid, and asked, as calmly as you could, "Were there no closer beaches?"

"None that have forecasted snow like this," he answers, and you had to give him credit, for it was probably true. 

There were flurries of snow surrounding your bodies, catching in your hair and on your mitten clad hands, and you could see a few flakes of snow fall on Spencer's own skin. You smile. 

"Besides," he says, taking your hand within his and tugging you along the path down to the beach. "None have sentimental value like this one."

"You hate it here," you comment, your feet dragging along in the sand as he pulls you closer to the crashing waves on the shore. 

"I hate the water here. Bad memories."

"Same thing."

"And you love it here," he murmurs, barely audible over the wind rushing past your ears, and so he tugs you closer to him, arms looped around your waist. 

"I do love it here," you nod, hands tracing up his arms. "I've never seen snow on a beach."

"Do you like it?"

"It's so pretty," you mumble, turning your head to the side, staring out at the water, vision clouded by the falling snowflakes. "C'mon."

You pull on his arm suddenly, and he's shocked into stumbling after you, before he realises the direction you're headed, and he's stammering out a mess of denials.

"Hey, no. No, no. The water is ice cold. That can shock our hearts and cause panic, or spike our blood pressure and that can cause heart failure and—"

"—Are you eighty and vulnerable?" you muse.

"Eighty, no. Vulnerable, maybe. I'm not in the business of discovering if I am. You shouldn't be either."

"Spencer, our feet in the water won't kill us," you say, slipping your shoes off your feet, grimacing at the mix of cold sand and snow beneath them. 

He seems to give up trying to fight your decision. Perhaps keenly aware that you're not backing down, and instead follows suite in taking his shoes off. 

"I'll put you on my cause of death," he grumbles.

"No. You're gonna live forever, boy genius," you deny, dragging him closer to the water. 

Icicles prickle your skin as you step into the freezing water, and you almost sorely regret your decision. Spencer's in the same boat, and you feel his hand around yours squeeze your palm at the feeling. The sight's enough for you to relax a little, and laugh at him.

Once your blood circulates better — or your feet go numb — you lean into Spencer, staring out at the moon.

"At least I'm not throwing you into the water this time," you chirp after a few moments of quiet. 

It was the middle of the previous summer, before you and Spencer had even told each other about the feelings you had for the other. Feelings that were, frankly, quite obvious, now looking back on it. You blame your obliviousness on attraction hidden under the guise of never being more than a summer thing. 

If only you knew then.

You had taken him to this very Falmouth beach at night, begging him to go for a night swim with you. It took a whole lot of convincing before he had even agreed to put his feet in the water, claiming he hates how unpredictable the ocean can be, even in the shallowest of shores. 

Though, rushing water around your ankles meant his already less-than-perfect balance was thrown off incredibly, and you were able to tug him down into the water. Evidently, soaking both himself, and you. 

You're pretty sure the way he reacted is what solidified your feelings for him. 

Instead of freaking out on you and being angry, he had laughed, spluttered the salt water and sand out of his mouth, and simply splashed you with the ocean.

You weren't going to do the same thing tonight, though. As much as you'd hate to admit it, the water was freezing cold, and you really weren't interested in submerging yourself within it. 

"That's true," he agrees. "Though, I think losing my feet to hypothermia might rival being as bad as you soaking me."

"You'll be fine," you shrug, waving him off. 

More minutes pass, as you stand there, the only sounds coming from the rushing water and the wind blowing snowflakes around your two bodies. The sky is painted with the snow that falls, white on black.

"I love this beach," you say, decidedly, the beauty of it all making you oddly sentimental.

"We've established that," he teases.

You shove him with your shoulder. He shoves you back. 

"Personally, I hate this beach."

"I hate you," you huff, turning around to face him, and he's steadying his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. 

"Okay. Now say that without a smile on your face," he challenges, head ducking down closer to yours, eyebrows risen. 

You couldn't wipe the lovesick grin off your face even if you tried.

your reblogs and replies are always welcome ♡

[reidmarieprentiss]

Home From The Bar

Summary: Y/N goes on the town with the ladies from the BAU, she calls Spencer to pick her up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: flirty fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, getting drunk, doing embarrassing drunk things, suggestive content (16+)

Word count: 2.8k

a/n: can be read alone but it is a blurb from Finding Home Again !!

main masterlist

Y/N had grown a lot closer to the BAU ladies over the past few months. JJ, Emily, and Penelope had become more than just Spencer’s coworkers—they were her friends too. So when they invited her out for a girls’ night, she eagerly accepted. The evening had been a whirlwind of dancing, laughter, and more than a few drinks. Now, they were sat at a table, cooling off after dancing their hearts out and sweating through their clothes.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, the conversation inevitably turned sideways, as it always does when good friends and alcohol are involved. And unfortunately for Y/N, everyone was curious about her sex life with the good doctor.

“So… how is he?” JJ asked, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous grin.

“Be honest,” Emily chimed in, leaning forward with a sly smile. “Was he a virgin?”

“Is he a pillow princess?” Penelope added, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Their questions came at her in rapid succession, leaving Y/N no time to prepare. Under the influence of alcohol, she could only laugh at the absurdity of it all, her cheeks flushing with both amusement and embarrassment.

“Oh my god, you guys,” Y/N giggled, trying to deflect the attention. “You’re terrible!”

“C’mon, we’re dying to know!” JJ teased, nudging her playfully.

“Yeah, spill the tea!” Penelope added, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N shook her head, laughing harder. “I’m not giving you all the details, no way!”

“But he’s so… proper,” Emily said, leaning back with a smirk. “I just can’t picture him getting all… you know.”

“He’s definitely not a pillow princess,” Y/N blurted out, the alcohol loosening her tongue. The words were out before she could stop them, and the shocked expressions on the other women’s faces sent her into another fit of giggles.

JJ’s jaw dropped. “No way!”

Penelope gasped dramatically. “You’re kidding!”

Emily grinned wickedly. “Oh, this I’ve got to hear.”

Y/N held up her hands in surrender, still laughing. “Okay, okay! Look, all I’m going to say is that he’s… full of surprises.”

The women burst into laughter, clinking their glasses together in celebration of the newfound knowledge.

“Who knew the good doctor had it in him?” Penelope mused, still giggling.

“I always knew there was something underneath that nerdy exterior,” Emily added with a wink.

JJ shook her head, smiling. “Well, Y/N, you’re one lucky woman.”

Y/N smiled back, her heart warming at the thought of Spencer. “Yeah, I really am.”

Of course, the conversation didn’t let up—it just took different paths. JJ shared some funny anecdotes about Will, Emily regaled the group with wild stories from her past, and Penelope brought up that infamous “one time” with Derek that always got everyone laughing. The evening was a blur of laughter, camaraderie, and just a little too much alcohol, which led Y/N to realize that she needed Spencer to come get her—now.

She fumbled for her phone and dialed his number, her fingers slightly uncoordinated from the drinks she’d had. After a few rings, Spencer’s voice, thick with sleep, answered, “Hello?”

“Hi baby!!” Y/N yelled into the phone, her voice louder than she intended.

“Ouch…hi, Y/N. Are you okay?” Spencer asked, wincing at the volume, his concern evident even through his sleepy haze.

“Physically? Yes. Well, no actually,” Y/N slurred slightly.

“No? What’s wrong? Do you need me to come get you? Are you still at the bar?” Spencer was instantly more awake, worry creeping into his voice.

“Yeah, I’m still here. Can you please come get me?”

“Of course, I’m on my way,” Spencer replied, already throwing on his clothes and grabbing his keys.

His mind raced with a million possibilities—had Y/N hurt herself? Had she drunk too much? What could have happened? When he arrived at the bar, his anxiety spiked when he saw Emily smoking a cigar outside, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with panic.

Emily took a slow drag from her cigar, exhaling the smoke before she responded with a smirk, “Oh, she’s fine… go get your girl, Doctor. She’s been waiting for you.”

Spencer nodded in confusion, rushing inside to find Y/N. He barely made it through the entrance when Y/N came barreling toward him, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug and planting a huge, sloppy kiss on his neck.

“Spencer! You’re my fiancé, isn’t that just insane?” she laughed, her eyes sparkling with the joy and inebriation of the evening.

Spencer couldn’t help but smile, wrapping his arms around her, holding her steady. “Well, I did propose. I’m still amazed you said yes.”

Y/N’s expression turned serious, or at least as serious as she could manage in her current state. “I will never say no to you, Spencer. You are my best friend.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, touched by her words. “And you’re mine. But are you okay? You said you weren’t physically well?” His gaze quickly scanned her for any signs of injury.

“Oh…um, I have a problem,” Y/N mumbled, looking up at him with wide, drunken eyes.

“What kind of problem?” Spencer asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“The kind only you can fix,” she whispered, leaning in closer.

Spencer’s concern grew as he looked Y/N over, trying to assess the situation. The dim lighting of the bar didn’t help, but from what he could see, she seemed unharmed—just a bit tipsy. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and the corners of her lips twitched in a way that told him she was up to something. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or more concerned.

“What kind of problem?” Spencer asked cautiously, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “I’m horny.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in shock, and he instinctively pulled back to look at her, making sure he’d heard her correctly. She looked back at him with the most innocent expression, as if she hadn’t just dropped that bombshell.

“Uh… what?” Spencer stammered, his voice going up an octave.

“I said I’m horny, Spencer,” Y/N repeated, a little louder this time, clearly not aware—or not caring—how public they were.

Spencer’s face flushed a deep shade of red as he glanced around, hoping no one else heard. “Y/N, we’re in a bar,” he hissed, his voice low and urgent.

“I know, and that’s why you need to fix it!” she declared, her hands fisting in his shirt as she tried to pull him closer.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Okay, let’s get you home before you say anything else that’ll make me die of embarrassment.”

Y/N giggled, holding onto him as they made their way out of the bar. “You’re the best fiancé ever, you know that?”

Spencer shook his head fondly, his heart swelling with affection despite the situation. “Yeah, yeah, let’s just get you home, okay?”

As they stepped outside, Emily caught Spencer’s eye and gave him a knowing wink. “Take care of her, Reid,” she said with a smirk.

Spencer simply nodded, still blushing as he led Y/N to the car. He managed to get her into the passenger seat and buckled in before they were on the road. Y/N immediately began fiddling with the radio, her intoxicated focus darting from station to station until she found something she liked.

“Oh!!! I love this song!” she exclaimed, as Lollipop by Lil Wayne started playing.

As the music filled the car, Y/N began to sing along, her voice a little off-key but full of enthusiasm. Spencer couldn’t help but smile at her antics, but when she started doing a tipsy dance in her seat—more of a rhythmic humping, really—his eyes widened.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he sighed, trying to keep his eyes on the road while his very drunk, very sexy fiancée put on quite the show next to him.

Y/N laughed, rubbing her hands over her body in a playful, exaggerated way, even groping her own chest. “See something you like, doc?” she teased, her voice dripping with sultry mischief.

“See something I love,” he grunted, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. It frustrated him knowing he couldn’t act on his desires while she was in this state. He loved her too much to take advantage of the situation.

Apparently, Y/N didn’t share that restraint. Before Spencer could process what was happening, her hand was reaching over, grabbing at his crotch without a hint of subtlety.

“Y/N,” Spencer choked out, his voice strained as he tried to keep control of the car—and himself. “You have to stop that, sweetheart.”

“But Spence,” she pouted, continuing her mischief, “you’re so sexy when you’re all serious like this.”

Spencer’s heart raced as he gently removed her hand, placing it back on her lap. “We’re almost home, okay? Just hold on a little longer.”

Y/N huffed, leaning back in her seat with a dramatic sigh. “Fine, but you owe me.”

Spencer laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

With that, he focused on getting them home safely, all the while knowing that the real challenge would be keeping Y/N at bay until she sobered up.

When Spencer parked the car and rounded it to get Y/N, she was ready. The second he opened the door, Y/N sprang into action, pulling him down for a heated kiss. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she pressed herself against him with all the intensity of someone who had waited far too long.

“Y/N…” Spencer mumbled against her lips, trying to regain some composure before gently pulling back. “Upstairs first.”

“You are no fun, Spencer Reid,” she whined, pouting up at him.

“Hmm, I know, love,” he laughed softly, shaking his head at her antics.

Getting Y/N up the stairs proved to be another challenge entirely. She insisted on trying to walk behind him, grabbing his ass and making it clear she was enjoying the view. Spencer, on the other hand, was trying his best to keep them both moving without succumbing to her teasing.

“Hey, grab hands,” Spencer said sternly, taking her wrists in one hand and holding them behind her back, guiding her up the stairs with a firm but gentle push. “Get your drunk ass into the apartment before I drop you off at the firehouse.”

Y/N groaned, clearly turned on by his no-nonsense demeanor. “Fuck, this is so hot, Spence.”

“Shut up,” Spencer muttered, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Take me like this,” she purred, her voice low and sultry.

“I’m going to take you to bed,” Spencer replied, his tone exasperated but with a hint of amusement.

“Yesss,” she moaned, clearly misunderstanding his intentions.

“To sleep,” he clarified, his voice firm.

“With you,” she added, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I will sleep on the couch if you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” he threatened, though they both knew it was an empty threat. Still, the seriousness in his tone made Y/N pause, her eyes widening.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Y/N mumbled, her voice small and contrite.

“Nope, not starting that,” Spencer said quickly, shaking his head as he continued to guide her up the stairs.

Y/N finally shut her mouth, pouting as they reached the apartment door. Spencer unlocked it with a practiced ease and gently pushed her inside, relieved to have made it this far without any further incidents.

“Alright, water, bathroom, bed, got it?” Spencer said, his hands on his hips as he looked down at Y/N with a mixture of amusement and determination.

“If I do it, can I get a kiss?” Y/N asked, her voice slightly slurred but filled with playful intent.

“Yes, you can have one—one—kiss if you do it all,” Spencer agreed, knowing it was the only way to get her to cooperate.

With Spencer’s assistance, Y/N managed to drink a full glass of water, albeit with a few spills. She then, somewhat successfully, removed her makeup, though Spencer had to point out a few missed spots. She brushed her teeth, giggling at the sight of herself in the mirror, and finally slipped into bed in her pajamas, looking pleased with herself.

Spencer turned off the light, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as he returned to the bed. He was ready to give Y/N her promised kiss, leaning down with a soft smile on his face. But as he approached, he realized she was already passed out, mouth open, snoring softly.

“Thank god,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head with a fond smile as he pulled the covers up around her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently, the affection in his heart swelling. 

As he settled into bed beside her, Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, thinking about how unpredictable and wild life with Y/N could be—and how much he wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

When Y/N woke up, she immediately regretted every choice she had made the night before. Her head pounded like a drum, her mouth felt like sandpaper, her stomach churned uneasily, and her body was too warm under the covers. She groaned, kicking the sheets off in frustration.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Spencer said, his tone gentle but laced with amusement.

“No,” Y/N grumbled, pulling a pillow over her face.

“No?” Spencer echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Not good morning. Bad morning,” she corrected, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“Feeling the effects of last night?” he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, nodding slightly under the pillow.

“Want me to get you some water?”

“And meds,” Y/N added pitifully.

“Be right back,” Spencer said, pressing a kiss to her head before heading off to the kitchen. He returned shortly with a glass of water and some painkillers. “Sit up and drink,” he instructed, holding the glass out to her.

“You’re bossy,” Y/N sassed, though she reluctantly did as he asked.

“You liked it last night,” Spencer teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What?” Y/N froze, her eyes widening as she looked at him, horrified. “Oh my god, what did I do?”

“Oh, do you not remember trying to mount me on the staircase? And then moaning when I told you to stop?”

“No! Oh my god, that is humiliating,” Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It was pretty funny,” Spencer said with a snort, clearly enjoying himself.

“What else did I do?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper, terrified but too curious not to ask.

Spencer grinned, clearly holding back a laugh. “You called me ‘daddy.’”

Y/N’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Spencer sat down beside her on the bed, his expression softening as he watched her. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” he said gently. “We’ve all done stupid things when we’re drunk.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think most people try to seduce their fiancés on the stairs while calling them ‘daddy,’” Y/N muttered, setting the empty glass on the nightstand.

Spencer laughed softly, shaking his head. “Maybe not, but it’s not the worst thing in the world. You were just being… affectionate. In your own way.”

Y/N peeked at him through her fingers, still covering her face. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad? No, not at all,” Spencer reassured her. “I found it kind of adorable, honestly. You’re always so confident and put together, it was nice to see you let go for once.”

“Adorable? I’m pretty sure ‘adorable’ wasn’t the vibe I was going for,” Y/N said, finally lowering her hands, though her cheeks were still pink.

Spencer smiled warmly at her, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. “It’s okay. I love all your vibes.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, finally starting to relax. “Thanks, Spence. You’re too good to me.”

“Only because you deserve it,” he replied, stroking her hair gently. “Now, why don’t you lie back down and rest? I’ll make you some toast and coffee.”

“Toast and coffee sound like heaven right now,” Y/N sighed, leaning into his touch. “But only if you bring it to me in bed.”

Spencer grinned. “Deal. Anything for you, even after you tried to seduce me on the stairs.”

Y/N laughed, her spirits lifting as she watched him head to the kitchen. Despite the embarrassing memories, she felt grateful to have Spencer by her side—someone who could make even the most mortifying situations feel a little less awful.

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[fairene]

Fic idea!! maybe some sick lando? like taking cares of him, kinda overlapping with Austrian Grand Prix?

i love your writing; am always rereading it and still have the same effect as reading the first time :))

sweet love / ln4

anon!!! i love this idea.

lando norris x f!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

a/n ⋯ felt the most grueling muse for this as lando has been sick. needed to spill out my love for this man. he needs all the support he can get for the race tomorrow! took a break from writing beneath the moonlight, too, just for a brief time. i wrote this whole thing at work haha. as usual, reader's looks are left up for interpretation, and whatever outfit you choose. hope you all enjoy, cheers!

warnings ⋯ no smut, kissing, anxiety.

wc ⋯ 2.3k (unedited.)

this weekend, you knew, was going to be difficult. within the past few days from barcelona’s grand prix, lando had come down with something. he woke that morning beside you, snoring louder than usual, with a hoarse voice and a congested nose. it startled you upon waking, thinking that it would be much worse than you suspected. 

ultimately, you believed it was.

when you were getting ready this morning, taming your hair and throwing on a relaxed fit for the sprint race, you were watching him. you watched him from the ensuite, hunched over the side of the bed with his head in his hands. he sniffled and blew his nose relentlessly. 

your shoulder leaned against the bathroom’s door frame, his hoodie covering your figure completely. with arms wrapping around your body, your head lolled to the wooden plaster. “lan,” your voice came soft, rugged with the toils of sleep. 

he turned to face you, slinging his legs on the end of the bed. he replied with a small ‘hmm?’ and you felt your heart wrench. 

he shouldn’t race today. he shouldn’t. but you knew he had to. this wasn’t a sport where you could simply take days off, but looking at lando in his disheveled state had you overcome with worry. 

you let out a sigh when you approached him, running a hand over his shoulder. he relaxed into your touch, needing it now more than ever on this cloudy morning. you shuffled your way between his thighs, settling above him. you captured his face between both your hands, angling him to look up at you.

what you were met with was a sea of despair and disappointment. his eyes were bruised, bloodsohot, weak. but your lando wasn’t a weakling. this was an obstacle for him to overcome, and you’d help him in any way that he needed. 

 “don’t,” he said, attempting to shake off your grip. but you remained strong and firm, unrelenting to his disapproval. “don’t want to get you sick.” 

you scoffed. “you think i care?”

“you should.”

you shook your head. with both of your thumbs you swirled circles across his scruff of a stubble. “i care about you.”

he let his weight fall limp against your body. his entire chest leaning against your abdomen, head nuzzling just beneath your breasts. you combed through his curled, mahogany hair, soothing him the best you could before you decided to make him breakfast. 

he groaned into you, letting you know of his adequate discomfort, and sniffled a few more times. you finally gained the strength to to lift his head, curling a hand around the back of his neck, the other beneath his chin. his stubble had grown long and itched at your fingertips, but the sensation was more than welcome. 

your eyes were connected with one another again. he blinked slowly, his pupils blowing wide. you looked angelic looming above him, stroking the rough skin of his face. he’d never felt so much ease as he had before beneath your hands. your wondrous, careful hands. he had so much love for you, and it only grew tenfold when he saw how worried you were. worried that his sickness evolved to an ailment of his performance. he decided then that he would try his hardest for you. 

“i love you.” he whispered, turning his head to the side to kiss the open palm of your hand. he let his mouth wander up your wrist, kissing the vital veins that ran beneath your skin. your heart was thummering at a stable pace, calming him much further from his rampant anxieties for the upcoming sprint race. 

you knew he meant his words with his entire heart, and the universe combined. you were awed by his courage to want to race today–not that he had much of a choice– but you knew that he would perform to his utmost capabilities. you were proud of him, though the race wasn’t starting for a few more hours. 

“and i love you, baby,” you breathed, sucking in a tight breath when he kept kissing up the length of your arm. his lips were tender, caring, a way that he expressed just how much he meant to you. “come on, i’ll make you some soup.” 

he had a spur of energy at those words and didn’t hesitate to rise to his feet. he stood a bit taller than you, and planted a kiss on your forehead. his mouth lingered at your hairline, his nose brushing through the strands of your hair. you savored this moment. hands coming to his chest, you gripped at the fabric of his shirt. 

“you’ll be okay.” you said the words not only to consolidate him, but to soothe yourself. he hummed a soft sound of approval, music to your ears, and kissed your forehead once again. 

“get dressed. your soup’ll be done soon.” 

he sighed a soft thank you when you detach yourself from his grasp. you made your way to the small kitchen, and began to work with the ingredients you had on hand. lucky for you, you had ordered an instacart order for prepping dinner. you had everything that you wanted and more, and couldn’t be more thankful that you had prepared. you had a feeling that with his illness, the only thing that could make him feel better was a warm cup of soup. 

into the pot went the essentials. stock, protein, and over the burner it was lit. it wasn’t until another hour that the soup was ready to eat, but you had gotten to work hastefully. 

lando emerged from your shared bedroom and immediately aimed for you. his arms wrapped around from behind you, riding up the expanse of your body, gripping at his most favorite parts of you. his hands were tight as they held on, desperate to feel you, and you leaned into him as you stirred the goodies in the pot. 

“smells delicious.” he commented, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. you smiled, angling your head to kiss his cheek. 

in only just a few minutes you had plated the soup for him in a cup from the cupboard. he was eager, but couldn’t find himself to sit down. he was latched on behind you the entire time, littering tender kisses down the column of your throat. you noticed that he became touchy, needy, when he was sick. not that you were complaining, just about ready to give him the whole world if he asked. 

“come on, lan,” you urged him, placing the bowl at the table for him with a spoon and napkin. “gotta eat. we’re leaving soon.” you had checked the time an he only had a half hour to eat before the car would be here. 

his head buried into your shoulder. his words muffled against your sweatshirt–his– “don’t wanna.” if you heart could shatter even more, it split into pieces. you knew he was struggling, and he would only share these disparities with you. 

your hand came to hold the side of his face. you squeezed his cheek. “i know.” 

he finally sat down, tucking himself against the table, and began to eat. he was in heaven, truly, with how your soup tasted. it brought back nostalgic memories for him when he was a boy, and it could only be described as euphoria. a feeling or state of intense happiness.

he made a sound in the back of his throat, guzzling the soup with earnesty. “fuckin’ good, baby, thank you.” 

you smiled, coming to rub your hand along his back. he was in his mclaren kit, the papaya color shimmering beneath the kitchen lighting. 

it didn’t take him much longer to finish. you had filled his water bottle for him, full of icecubes, to soothe his burning throat. you even gave him some lozenges to pocket. he washed his dish and the pair of you moved in comfortable silence. your eyes never left him, as if you were waiting for him to change his mind to race today.

but he didn’t. and you could only hold his hand tight when you left the hotel room, the door shutting quietly behind you. 

you arrived at the track and were met with the onslaught of paparazzi. lando clung to you closer than usual, hiding his face from the shutters of photographs. instead, you took the heat, and even talked to the paparazzi that wished to speak with you. 

you took up the majority of the media for the morning walk to mclaren hospitality. with a plastered smile and good manners, you took all the selfies you needed. you were happy to do it, but your mind wandered elsewhere. lando loomed quietly, eerily taught, and it worried you even more. he hadn’t said a word except for a few pleasant hellos. 

arriving through the pitlane, you joined with alexandra. she was bubbling with happiness, a ray of sunshine, and she cleared the dark clouds of worry from your shoulders.

“how’s he feeling?” she asked after giving you a greeting of dual cheek kisses. you crossed your arms with a shrug, mclaren hat atop your head to hide your woes. 

“not well.” 

she let out a soft sight, offering you a brief reprieve. “well, i’m here for you and him. anything.” you thanked her sincerely, looking around for your british driver. he was waiting for you, standing in conversation with will, his engineer, and his brows uplifted. it was a desperate attempt for him to urge you over without his words. 

you responded quickly, bidding alexandra a quick goodbye with a hug, and moseyed over to your boyfriend. you tucked an arm around his waist and he topped your cap with a kiss. you could feel the pressure of his lips, hot and clamoring, and squeezed his waist. 

in the heart of the hospitality, lando was still hovering behind you. he’d been needed for press, but he denied as much as he could. 

you were standing by the coffee station, prepping a cup of tea for him. the water boiled as he scrolled on his phone, sniffling as quietly as he could with an occasional cough. 

prepared to his liking you snapped the plastic top on. you swirled it a bit with a wooden stick and handed it to him. he glanced at you, unexpectant of the treatment, and he smiled for the first time that day. 

“you’re an angel, you know that?” you laughed softly. it seemed like one of the most quiet moments you could muster for the days activities. 

“go do your press. i’ll be here when you come back.” 

he leaned down to kiss your cheek. you pulled his chin back between your fingers and kissed him fully. your lips on his, it was a kindhearted gesture, one that filled him full of comfort, and washed away the squall of his anxiety falling away. he tasted of the soup you made him, and smelled of his cologne that you loved so much. 

his forehead leaned against yours. his nose brushing your own. he took a deep breath in and nodded. you did, too, encouraging him further. 

he left your side with an “i love you,” and you didn’t see him for another hour. 

he came back in his fireguard, prepared to hop in his car for the race. you met up with him, fixing his collar and brushing off the excess rubber from the car. you could feel his beating heart beneath your fingers, your bottom lip catching beneath your teeth. he saw it then, just how anxious you were. 

“i’ll be okay.” 

the words meant a great deal to you, but it did little in the grand scheme of your concern. you nodded your head. 

“you’ll be okay.” you agreed. though you couldn’t help but think of the worst things that could happen, and the guilt that you would carry. “tonight we’ll watch a movie, yeah? more soup when we’re back, too.” your fingers wrapped around his neck. 

he smiled again, cheeky and toothy. you loved him so much, and he you. “you’ve got it all planned, don’t you?” 

you knew he was making an attempt to lighten the mood. you allowed it, the sun shining on your darkness. 

“something for you to look forward to out there.” you offered in return. he took a final deep breath in, and you took an inhale. you wanted to take his exhaustion from him. you’d take it all. 

you reached your lips to kiss the scar across his nose. then, to his lips. he leaned into you, deepening the connection. your hand came to cup the back of his neck. you were lost in one another for the moment, and that was okay. it was tribulating to see him go out there, but you’d be cheering him on. you’d always cheer for him. your man, your man. 

“ice cream, too?” he asked against your mouth. you chuckled.

“of course. anything that helps.” 

he kissed you again. teeth clashing with yours, tongue daring to swirl against yours. “this helps.” he promised, hand against your back pulling you closer. but you heard the bell, an alarm that meant your time was up. 

you broke the kiss, but lathered two more onto both of his cheeks. 

“let it rip, baby.” 

and he did. with the thought of your evening on his mind, he’d do his best during the race. it was a tough battle, but he would do anything to taste your sweet lips again. 

[nebulaafterdark]

Blood & Cheese (Pt. 1)

Summary: After the events of Blood and Cheese, Rhaenyra’s daughter returns to King’s Landing in hopes of speaking to her childhood companion. Based off this request.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Targcest, mentions of death, loss of virginity

Y/N and Aegon never had an ordinary relationship. They grew up together, they loved each other, knowing all the while they could not marry.

Aegon is promised to Helaena. He marries her, performs his duty, though he loves her as a sister and nothing more.

Y/N does not wed. Rhaenyra is in no hurry to marry off her only daughter.

Years pass, Y/N visits Aegon and Helaena often. Watching their children grow. Twins named Jaehaera and Jaehaerys.

“He looks like you,” Y/N muses, holding his sweet boy.

Aegon smiles, wistfully. Stroking a hand over the back of his son’s hair as he stares at her. What might our children have looked like? He kisses her cheek, “indeed.”

Y/N and Helaena understand each other well enough. Helaena loves Aegon as a brother and nothing more.

Helaena tells her, “I find myself happiest when you are near, as does he.”

Y/N holds her hand out, hoping the other woman will take it. “I should like to be here more, help with the children.”

“Aemond would wed you.” Helaena says, as if the offer is no more complex than the color of the sky. “He likes you well enough and has no qualms about your feelings for Aegon.”

That was before he killed Lucerys. A distant dream now. Y/N makes her way into the castle as servants hustle about.

“The King and Queen have lost their only son.”

Y/N finds the children’s apartments undetected; unable to believe what she has heard until she sees….one bed instead of two.

The door jostles open and someone steps inside, muttering to themselves. A voice Y/N knows well, she waits, huddled in the corner, until she can be certain they are alone.

“Helaena,” her name is whispered from the shadows, as she paces her children’s chamber.

She’s seen nothing of Aegon since the incident, she has been largely alone. Her mother and husband focus largely on finding the men responsible. Helaena knows it will change nothing. Instead she clutches the throw blanket embroidered for her son.

“Helaena,” the voice sounds, again. Y/N creeps out of the corner. Her eyes wide and haunted.

She isn’t real. She can’t be.

“I am so sorry for what’s happened.”

“You are always sorry.” In visions of her and when she stands before her. “Must be an awful way to live.”

Y/N swallows hard, “it is.”

“You are my brother’s only love…I believe he is yours. He’s often down at the pleasure house…wanting for you. You return to him like this? Now?”

Y/N assures her. “I wish only to see him.”

“I will not begrudge you happiness, nor him. But I’ve no wish to remarry, and I’ll have no more children. You might give him a son.” Helaena says.

“I did not come here to bed him, I came here tell him-”

Helaena’s eyes find Aegon’s. Whatever Y/N came here to do matters little now.

“You,” he sneers, approaching Y/N at a pace that sends Helaena scurrying from the room. “One wasn’t enough for you? You had to come yourself to finish the job?” Aegon takes Y/N’s face in his hands so harshly her jaw aches.

“No,” Y/N shakes her head.

“By raven, you might have contacted me.” His wide, mad eyes search hers.

“I thought it best to see you,” Y/N stammers, “so we might talk about this, the way we always have.”

“What is there to talk about?” Aegon scoffs, “my son is my legacy! My son is heir to the throne!”

“From the depths of my soul, I am sorry.” Y/N tells him.

“I never wanted this, I never wanted to marry Helaena, I never wanted to be King. I wanted to marry you, but I love my children. I wanted this to be peaceful and now it cannot be because your mother has killed my child. My sister is distraught, I am distraught.” Aegon pulls himself away, fighting for composure.

“That is why I’ve come.” Y/N tells him, “my mother did not order this, it was Daemon.”

Aegon runs a hand over his face, “so that fixes everything?”

“It doesn’t,” Y/N admits, “I know that much, but if we could stop this war-”

Aegon laughs, low and menacing. “I do not want to stop this war. I intend to fight it.”

“Aegon,” she breathes.

“Will you stand at my side or against me?”

“I have no wish to stand against you. Especially now, after all you have lost. But I would not know my place here.”

“Your place is with me.” Aegon insists.

“But Alicent-”

“I am the king. She made it so,” Aegon reminds her. “I love my mother, sister, and house. I will not abandon Helaena in this.”

“Of course not,” Y/N nods.

“Still you could…” Aegon moves back toward her, “be my wife. My second wife. Take the burden off Helaena.” He nods, “our children will be spared from acts such as these, when I am asked again to produce a male heir.”

“My love,” she cups his face in her hands, “I will do this for you. But not now, not like this.”

“I need you.” He argues.

Y/N strokes his cheeks, “I am here, the rest will sort.”

His lips are on hers then, in a soul crushing kiss. Pouring all of his sadness, loneliness and regret into it. “I love you.” It is a horrid, awful thing to say, following the death of his child, birthed by another woman.

“I love you too.”

He also mourns what might have been, had their mothers not been so stubborn. He wishes Jaehaerys were hers, it might have spared him. “Come with me.”

Y/N nods, allowing him to lead her down the hall to his rooms. Tearing at her clothes, and then his own, falling back onto the bed, with her beneath him. Panting as she stares up at him.

Aegon spits into his hand, wetting his cock as he does not have the patience for much more.

She means to tell him she’s never lied with a man, to warn him about her maidenhead. But she cannot bring herself to ask him to be gentle. She wants it to hurt…and it does. “Ahh.”

Aegon moves slowly, realizing what he’s done. The blood over his cock as he withdraws, “you were saving yourself?”

“It matters little.”

“It matters to me,” Aegon insists, “I’ve hurt you.”

“I want to do this for you.” She shakes her head, “I want you to split me open and bury your sorrows inside. I want to be yours. Your comfort, your strength.”

“Be my wife.”

“I will.”

“Be truthful with me.”

“I will.”

His strokes are slow and deep, kissing her sweetly as he fucks her perfect little cunt, getting her used to the feeling of fullness. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes,” Y/N admits.

Aegon slips a hand between them, rubbing her pearl in tight circles, “is that any better?”

Y/N gasps, “yes.”

Aegon smiles, “good.”

Y/N weaves her hands into his silver locks. Kissing him, holding him, consuming him. “I love you.”

Aegon groans, “I love you, dearly. I’ve longed for you each day we were apart.”

“Aegon.” She sighs, cunt tense with her impending peak.

“You’ll give me children, won’t you?”

“As many as you’d like.”

“And you will love them?”

“Of course,” Y/N nods.

“My daughter…Jaehaera, will you accept her and treat her as your own?”

Again, Y/N nods.

“Nothing could ever replace my son, but I will survive this, so long as I have you. Our children, Jaehaera, Helaena as well.”

Y/N smiles, “that sounds nice.” The love between Aegon and Helaena is not one she will ever understand. She loves her brother, but she has not bore him children. It would be different, surely.

Aegon lets out a sob as he empties his spend at the mouth of her womb.

Her high comes quick and unexpected, milking Aegon dry and pulsing around him. His cock softens, remaining inside her until he hardens again.

She is sore when morning comes and Aegon bathes her in rose water. Leaving his rooms only long enough to wed before returning to their bed.

Aegon is restless in those early moons, before Y/N’s belly begins to swell with child. She plays with Jaehaera and keeps Helaena company, she writes to her mother when time permits.

Jaehaera giggles loudly as Y/N toys with her doll, walking it towards her. The little girl points to Y/N’s belly.

“Soon.” Y/N tells her, “a little sister or brother for you to play with.”

Jaehaera nods.

Helaena looks to Y/N with a soft smile.

“You know which it is, don’t you?” Y/N can tell by her face.

“Aegon will be pleased,” Helaena says, with finality.

Based off her words, Y/N spends the next months under the impression she’s to have a son. Instead, she bears Aegon a daughter, then two more the following year.

The King does not mind, in fact, he has all but accepted that Jaehaerys would be his only son. Until their fourth child is born, a little boy with silver hair.

“He looks like you,” Y/N says, acknowledging the bittersweet irony of it all.

Aegon nods, with a sad smile, “indeed.”

Part 2

[msmk11]

Best Friend's Mom Part Three

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part Four

Word count: 5.2k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mentions of food, mentions of vomiting, drunk!reader, poor decision making while drunk, hangover, angst

Summary: You finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for Wanda. And you are not handling it well. This leads to you making some rather poor decisions, and you've yet to realize the extent of the consequences.

A/n: Part three finally here! Sorry for the wait, my life has been a shitshow lol. Happy reading loves!

You wake to soft kisses peppering your skin and the smell of Wanda’s sweet perfume. Your naked bodies are flush against each other, so much so that her long, red hair falls partly over your bare shoulder. When she senses your stirring, she leans over you and places a delicate kiss to your lips. 

“Good morning, baby,” she whispers, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning, Wanda,” you barely mumble out, not quite awake yet. 

She places a kiss on your neck and nips it a little, causing you to gasp. 

“No, Wanda, not yet,” you groan, “s’too early.”

Her kisses only continue, tracing back up your neck to a soft spot behind your ear that she knows you go crazy for. 

“Come on, Detka, let me have a little fun,” the redhead muses seductively, “you can just lay there, all pretty and perfect, while I take care of you.”

She slowly starts to caress your skin, and with the added effect of the burning kisses up and down your body, you turn to putty beneath her. Suddenly, Wanda flips you on your back and climbs on top of you, straddling your waist. She cups your cheek and gives you a deep, meaningful kiss. One that you’re rather enjoying, too, until your brain reminds you that this sort of kiss is much too tender for a spring break fling. 

“Wanda, wait,” you hesitate, pushing her away a little.

She looks at you, a little concern peeking through her lustful eyes, “What is it, Detka? Is something wrong?”

“I, I need to tell you something first. I won’t feel right otherwise.”

Wanda, sadly, climbs off your lap and sits back against the headboard. She guides you to a similar position and then places her hand on your thigh.

“Wanda….” you pause, “I don’t think I can keep doing this. Sleeping together, I mean.”

Her eyes narrow a little in confusion and she lets out a disbelieving snort, “What? What do you mean? Why? I thought we were both enjoying this.”

“Well, yes, I am. I was. But things have…. gotten too complicated for me.”

Wanda doesn’t respond. Instead, she stares down at her hand on your bare thigh.

“You mean-”

“Wanda, I have feelings for you,” you interrupt. 

She quickly pulls her hand away from your thigh, like you’ve burned her. She scrambles off the bed and picks up your shirt off the floor, throwing it to you. She then slips on her own.

“Wanda, what are you doing?” 

“Put your shirt on,” she orders, pointing to the discarded item in your lap. 

You do as she says and then wait- for her to say something, anything. 

“Wanda-”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she tells you harshly, “This was meant to be a meaningless fling. Don’t you understand that?”

Heat grows in your cheeks and shame in your stomach, “I know, Wanda, believe me, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But you’re just so pretty, and smart, and- I caught feelings for you.”

Wanda scoffs and crosses her arms, looking away, “I should’ve known to avoid someone like you.”

“Someone, like me?” You whisper.

“Yes, someone too stupid and immature to handle anything casual. It’s embarrassing, really.”

Hot tears sting your eyes and your stomach aches. “Wanda, what are you saying? This isn’t like you. I didn’t expect you to return my feelings, but I thought you’d be at least kind.”

She laughs coldly, a sound you never thought you’d hear coming from her, “You think you know me? Because we slept together? Baby, you know nothing about me. You’re just someone I fucked.”

Those last words echo in your ears over and over…

You’re just someone I fucked.

Someone I fucked.

Someone I fucked.

You jolt awake, your breathing hard and fast, and your face is wet with tears. You panic for a moment, not entirely sure where you are. Your heart slows a little when you look around and realize that you’re just in Wanda’s room, the woman in question sleeping peacefully beside you.

It had all been a dream.

A horrible, horrible dream. 

You’re still shaking, and you know there’s no chance of you falling back asleep. Even though it’s still early, you quietly get out of bed and sweep your discarded clothes up off the floor. You dart from the room across the hall into your own and close the door, breathing heavily. You need to get out of this house. Away from Wanda and her temptations and your fears. You throw on a hoodie and shorts and traipse out to the living room. Your flip flops still lay in a heap by the glass door, so you slip them on and head outside. It’s nice, the beach being only a few steps away from the house. You kick off your shoes and let yourself feel the sand in between your toes. It’s soft but also gritty and grounds you in reality- far away from the nightmare of only a few minutes ago. 

You know it isn’t real, but it feels like it- from every touch of her skin on yours to the pain in your heart as she scoffed at you and mocked you. You had dreamt of the worst possible scenario, and it left you rattled to your core. 

You try to push it all from your thoughts, letting the crashing waves drown them out and the slowly rising sun distract you. The cotton candy skies and its reflection on the shimmering ocean make you feel as though you’re in a fairytale, where nothing evil or bad can hurt you. 

You imagine that in this fairytale world you could be with Wanda. There’d be no college to worry about, the twins wouldn’t feel upset or betrayed, and you could go back to being in that little cottage you’d daydreamed about not that long ago. You suppose to an extent, this dream could be a reality. Yet you have never been an optimist.

What you and Wanda have is special, no doubt. But it is also fleeting, a one time thing, and you doubt you’d be in such close proximity to her ever again. When you left this beach house you’d go back to school, finish your semester, and graduate. She’d go back off to her own life- one that she’s happily settled into- just as you would be about to start your own. Though you could make room for her in yours, Wanda’s life had turned out pretty nice. Pretty close to perfect. And who were you to take that all away?

You decide that you have to get over your silly little crush. What at first seems impossible becomes less so as you think about it. You reckon that once you leave this house, you’ll rarely see Wanda besides at graduation, an occasional visit to see the twins, and maybe the twins’ weddings.  

Still, you’d rather be safe than sorry.

*****

At a reasonable hour, you bound back into the house with a pep in your step and a plan in your mind. It’s still early enough that Wanda isn’t out in the kitchen, but not late enough for you to feel bad for what you’re about to do. You make your way down the hall opposite of your room to the master bedroom. Though you quietly open the door, nothing else you do is as subtle. Billy and Tommy, both of whom are big guys, look a little funny all squished together in one bed. You give yourself a running start and leap onto the bed, arms and legs sprawled as you land on top of them. They wake with resounding grimaces, umphs, and quite a bit of cursing.

Tommy shoves your arm roughly, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“Just missed you,” you pout, sticking out your upper lip.

Billy grabs the pillow from under his head and smacks you in the face, “you’re such a pest, you know that? Couldn’t you have bothered us in like,” he checks the clock, “two hours?”

“No,” you huff, “that’s too far away. Anyhow, you should be glad I didn’t wake you up earlier.”

Tommy rolls over to look at you, “Earlier? How long have you been awake?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Eh, three, four hours?”

“Jesus,” Billy groans, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“So why’d you have to wake us up?”

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” you tsk, “And anyways, you guys should be thanking me for the great idea I’m about to share.”

Tommy flops down onto his back, “What is it?”

“We….. should go out tonight!” You exclaim.

You are met with unimpressed silence. 

“That was the most brilliant idea you just had to wake us up for?” Billy asks you with a sigh.

“Well yes. I mean, it seemed like you two losers had no intention of going out at all on this trip, and I’m pretty sure that would ruin your reputation,” you answer thoughtfully, “so I’m saving you.”

“Fine, fine. We’ll go out,” Tommy tells you. And though he sounds annoyed, you know it's all an act- the smirk in his voice giving him away. 

*****

At this point, you’ve lost track of the number of drinks you’ve had as you down a shot of-

Well you can’t remember, but you don’t really care because it gets the job done. Any burning in your throat goes unnoticed at this point in the night, and you cheer loudly as you slam the glass back down onto the bar. 

Tommy and Billy cheer along with you as they too finish their shots. 

“Let’s go dance,” Billy shouts over the music. 

Both of them being taller than you, they sandwich you in the middle, each with a hand on your shoulder so they don’t lose you in the crowd. It’s hot and sticky, the place is crowded with bodies, and the loud music blaring through the speakers is shit, but you’ve never felt better.

“I’m so glad we decided to go out,” you yell.

Tommy bends nearer to your mouth, “WHAT?”

“I said, I’m so glad we decided to go out,” you repeat. Then, you stumble, having been shoved by some stupid person behind you. 

Tommy catches you by the arms and then moves you, putting himself in between the stranger and you. You, really, don’t even notice, and keep swaying along to the music happily. The base vibrates in your chest and skull. That, combined with all the booze in your body, has made you forget- whatever it is you’re supposed to forget tonight. 

Something about Wanda, maybe?

Wanda.

You shake your head, clearing away any hazy thoughts about the redhead, and reach into your back pocket. You pull out a shooter that you had stored away for a special occasion, and now feels like the right moment. It's banana flavored- your least favorite- but you know it will do the job. You unscrew the cap, tossing it on the floor somewhere, and then throw your head back, barely letting it touch your tongue as you swallow. You discard the bottle then too, and enjoy the warmth that spreads down to your toes. 

“How many have you had tonight?” Billy calls out to you.

You shrug shoulders unseriously and giggle, “I don’t know, but I feel realllllllyyyyy good right now.”

“Well, let’s not have any more tonight, okay?” He replies.

You cross your arms and pout at him, “You’re not my dad, Billy. I can do whatever I want.”

“If you can get through a whole sentence without slurring your words, you can do whatever you want,” he retorts. 

“Easy peasy,” you reply, throwing your hand to the side. “See, I just did it right now.”

You in fact, did not. Not that you’d ever know. You hadn’t just slurred your words, you’d also mixed them up, spitting out some phrase that really didn’t make sense.

But the twins know they won’t be able to prove that to you, so instead, they distract you.

“See any pretty girls here tonight?” Tommy asks you casually. 

You nod lazily and laugh, “Oh, yes. There was this one girl by the bathroom door that looked really good in her skirt,” you slur, “I would totally go for her. But I can’t because I-”

Even your drunk brain is conscious enough to stop yourself from saying what you were about to: “because I have feelings for Wanda.”

Instead, drunk you does the best you can, and you slap your hands dramatically over your mouth.

“Oops,” you say, giggling.

Tommy smirks at you a little and laughs, “What were you going to say.”

You wag your finger at him and shake your head, “Nuh-uh. Can’t tell, it’s a secret.”

You giggle again. 

“Oh, come on,” Billy prods, poking your side, “we’re your best friendssss.”

You shriek and move away, bumping into someone behind you. You don’t realize it, so Tommy apologizes on your behalf and rests a hand on your back. 

“This,” you say, hiccuping, “is a secret I will take to my grave. Scout’s honor.”

“You’re not a scout,” Billy reminds you, trying to suppress his smile.

You scoff and roll your eyes at him, though no one can take you very seriously, “It’s a saying, Billy, DUHHHHHH.”

He raises his hands in mock defense, “Right, right, my bad.”

“You sure you can’t tell us?” Tommy asks pleadingly.

You shake your head again and mimic zipping your lips, tossing away the key.

Before he can try to persuade you again you suddenly shout, “let’s go get another drink!”

You take off towards the bar and, surprisingly, for being smaller than both of them, you’re really fast. 

*****

You feel like you’re on death’s doorstep. 

The light that filters in through your blinds burns your eyes, your mouth feels like cotton, and your head feels as though there are a million tiny people smashing hammers into your skull. Every bone in your body feels like lead and your stomach muscles scream as you try to sit up. When you do, your head spins and you think for a second that you’re going to throw up. 

Last night was a blur, and you’re not totally sure how you got back to your bed, in your pajamas, with a trash can at the foot, and a glass of water on the nightstand. Through your blurry vision you also notice two tiny pills beside the water and a note. 

Take these. It’ll help.

Wanda

So that’s how. Wanda had taken care of you. But how much had she taken care of you? The last thing you remember is leaving with the boys, and then- nothing. 

You achieved what you wanted- to forget for a while- but the toll on your body is making you wonder if it was a good choice in the first place.

You reach out and grab the pills off the nightstand, popping them into your mouth and then taking a sip of the water. You finish the rest of your glass with slow, tiny sips, your stomach unable to handle anything more. 

When you finish your water, you quite literally drag yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. Luckily, there are no windows in there, and with the lights off, you’re emerged in blissful darkness. After you relieve yourself, you stumble into an icy cold shower and quickly wash the grime from last night’s ventures off your body. It’s the quickest shower you’ve ever taken, and when you’re done your teeth are chattering, the small towel doing little to keep you warm. Still, you feel just a little better, so the sacrifice was worth it. 

Back in the room you don sweats and then crawl around on the floor looking for your sunglasses. Relief washes over you when you find them and put them on, the searing rays diminishing in severity. Even if you feel better, you know that you look like a wreck. And even if you didn’t look like a wreck, everyone in the house knows that you are. So the shame is present nonetheless as you trudge down the hall into the kitchen. 

The boys look in much better shape than you, if not still a little worn out, and are sitting at the table eating breakfast. The scene is unusually quiet as Tommy shoves toast into his mouth while scrolling on his phone, and Wanda and Billy chat quietly over their coffee. When you walk in they all look up at you, worry crossing their features. 

“Hey kid, how are you feeling?” Billy asks quietly. 

You grimace a little and plop down in the seat next to him, giving him a thumbs down. 

“Not surprised. You went a little crazy last night,” Tommy tells you. 

“I don’t really remember anything,” you admit, “but I can piece together enough by the way I’m feeling right now.”

“By the end of the night, you could barely walk, nothing you were saying made sense, and you threw up in some bushes on the way home,” he says, worry evident in his tone. 

You rub your hands across your face, “oh shit. I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad. I’m sorry.”

Billy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, “It’s okay, it happens sometimes. And anyways, all that matters is we got you back here safe.”

“And mom insisted on taking care of you last night, so I’m sure you’ll be back to better in no time,” Tommy adds reassuringly. 

You look up at Wanda and give her the smallest of smiles, “Thank you, Wanda.”

Though she smiles back at you, it doesn’t meet her eyes, and you know instantly that something is wrong.

“Of course, honey. Now have something to eat.”

She pushes a plate of dry toast towards you and your stomach twists a little. 

“I- I don’t think I can.”

“You have to, honey,” the redhead replies, a slight scolding tone to her voice. 

You pick up a piece with shaking hands and take the tiniest of bites. You chew for what feels like forever and the bread scrapes your throat as you swallow.

Wanda waits until you finish a whole piece of toast and then she stands, “I’m going to go get dressed.”

Your eyes follow her down the hall, and she doesn’t look back at you once. Your stomach turns again, and you’re not sure if it’s from anxiety or your hangover this time. 

You’re lost in a trance, staring into the void down the hall when Billy clears his throat. You turn and look at him. Both of your friends have matching serious expressions.

“Okay, now that my mom is gone I feel comfortable asking, what the fuck happened?”

“Well you know better than me-“ you mumble.

“That’s not what we mean,” Tommy interrupts, “you’ve never gotten that drunk in your life. You always have self-control. So what the fuck changed?”

“Is something going on?”

“Because if there is, you know you can tell us, right?”

“I mean I was so worried about you by the end of the night.”

“We both were. Mom too.”

“She insisted she be the one to watch you in case something happened.”

“And-“

The twins are spitting information at you so fast that your head starts to swim. You can barely process what one has said before the other starts again.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say, putting your hands up, “slow down, please. When you guys talk like this, I can barely understand you sober, let alone hungover.”

Billy huffs, “sorry, sorry.”

“We’re just worried about you,” Tommy tells you. 

You sigh and reach out, grabbing both of their hands, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. And I thank you both for looking after me. But seriously, I’m okay. I just… went a little too crazy last night. Spring break curse or something…”

Tommy squeezes your hand, “Are you sure? Because you seemed a little off all of yesterday.”

Yesterday…. You had been off. But you thought no one had noticed. 

“Just thrown off with the new schedule this week,” you lied. 

Billy hums suspiciously and kisses the side of your head, “well if there is anything you want to talk about, please tell us, okay?”

You smile at them and roll your eyes- not that they can see it with your sunglasses on- “yeah, yeah, okay.”

They stand and tell you that they’re going to go get ready. 

As they leave Tommy points to your plate, “And finish your toast, goddamnit!”

*****

You stand outside Wanda’s door for far longer than you’d like to admit. Finally, you knock softly and you hear a faint, “come in.”

Wanda is by her vanity, putting on her jewelry when you slowly crack open the door. 

“Uh hey, Wanda, sorry to bother you, I just, wanted to thank you for taking care of me last night.”

She clasps her necklace into place before turning to you, “It was no problem, honey. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You hesitate a little and sit down on the edge of her bed. She turns back to grab her earrings, and though her back is facing you, she is looking at you through the mirror. 

“I also uh, wanted to ask if you were okay. You just seemed a little…. upset…. this morning and I’m worried.”

“Hmmm? Me? Upset?” She asks, distractedly, “no, no. I’m just tired is all. Staying up all night to take care of someone will do that to you.”

“Yeah, right, sorry,” you mutter quietly. 

Wanda is silent and you feel a palpable tension in the air. But not a good kind. 

She slides on a few bracelets and then turns back around to face you, leaning back against the light wood furniture, “Anything else?” 

You shake your head a little too vigorously and stand up, heading towards the door. Your stomach is all in knots, and you wonder what could’ve possibly happened for things to feel this wrong all of a sudden. Had something happened when you were drunk? 

“You know,” Wanda suddenly says, and you stop, hand on the doorknob.

“It really shouldn’t be you who is worried about me.”

You turn around and look at her. She’s maintained the same nonchalant pose, but her face is much more serious. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well I’m not the one who was drunk out of their mind last night. It’s really me that should be worried about you.”

You walk back over to the bed and sit down, “Why? Wanda, it was a mistake. A one night thing where I got a little too crazy. It happens to the best of us.”

Wanda walks closer to you, close enough that she sort of towers over you, “Detka, you were blackout drunk. You were puking your guts out all night, you couldn’t stand, and you were rambling about a bunch of things that didn’t really make sense. It just didn’t seem like the type of thing that you’d do.”

You look down at your hands in your lap and pick at your fingernails, unsure what to say next. 

“I mean, I know I haven’t known you very long,” Wanda says as she sits down next to, “but deep in my core I just know something is off. That you’re hiding something. You can tell me, you know.”

In this moment, you’re ready to spill your guts to her. She just smells so good, and her voice is so gentle, and she’s sitting so close to you, you’re pretty sure you’d do whatever she asks. 

Instead you say, “I don’t know, I think you know me pretty well.”

You can tell it’s not the answer she’s expecting by the confusion that clouds her face, “what do you mean?”

You try to hold back a smirk, “well, you know my body pretty intimately at least, wouldn’t you agree?”

Wanda lets out a disbelieving giggle and your stomach erupts in butterflies, “you are something else, Detka. Here we are trying to have a serious conversation, and you go off making lewd innuendos.”

You shrug casually and look at her. Her eyes are teeming with amusement and you’d do anything to have her looking at you like that all the time.

“Am I wrong?”

She scoffs and squeezes your thigh playfully, “cocky, Detka. Maybe I don’t know you so much after all.”

“I’m full of secrets.”

“Well that I know,” Wanda says more seriously as she cups your face, “and it’s those secrets I’m trying to get out of you.”

She’s so close to you now and you want to kiss her so badly. But you don’t.

“It’s no fun if I give all my secrets away. What would I have then?”

“Trust.”

“Wanda,” you sigh, “I already trust you.”

Her thumb rubs soothing circles on the side of your face, “then why don’t you just tell me?”

You can’t help but lean into her touch.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m a divorcée and single mother with twin, adult sons who happen to have a very pretty friend that I slept with. I know complicated.”

“I- I don’t know, Wanda.”

-Wanda's POV-

Wanda is aware that this game of cat and mouse she’s playing with you is pointless because she already knows your secret.

She just wants you to confess it.

Sober.

(flashback)

She hadn't been lying when she'd said that you were very drunk last night. 

After you and the boys had told her you were going out, she decided to wait up until you all had arrived home safely. Though you were all grown adults, she still couldn’t help but worry. 

So Wanda waited up for you three on the couch in the living room, dozing in and out of consciousness as old tv programs hummed on in the background. Around two a.m., Wanda woke to not-so-quiet thuds and cursing. She found you all at the front door, the boys on either side of you, your arms flung across each of their shoulders. Tommy was crouched down trying to take your shoes off, but your knees were bent at such an awkward angle, so much so that you weren’t even standing, that he was failing miserably. 

Billy looked over at the sound of Wanda’s footsteps and cringed, “sorry mom, did we wake you?”

“No, moya lubov,” she answered with a quick wave of her hand, “I waited up for you, just in case.”

“Thanks mom,” Tommy said, grunting through the effort of trying to keep you up. “You can go to sleep now though, we’re back home safe and okay.”

Wanda eyed you warily, “she doesn’t look all that okay. What happened?”

Billy shook his head just as confused as Wanda, “I don’t know. She just got really drunk. I swear we were watching her but somehow, she still got this bad.”

“Not- drunk,” you mumbled under your breath.

They all ignored you.

“Why don’t you let me take it from here, boys. You two go get your rest,” Wanda said quietly. 

“Mom, no, she’s our friend. We’ll watch her. Anyways, you need your sleep,” Tommy insisted. 

Wanda cupped his cheek and pecked his forehead before doing the same to Billy.

“I really don’t mind, boys. And anyways, it’s better if I watch over her. I’m sober, so if something happens, I can take care of it.”

When Wanda put her mind to something, there was no point in arguing with her. The boys knew this, so they resigned, carefully handing you off to their mother. 

“Goodnight, mom,” they said in unison, trudging off down the hall. 

With you in her arms, she guided you down the hall, carrying your weight like it was nothing (it isn’t to her hehe). She took you down to the bathroom and sat you on the cold, tile floor. She slid down next to you and made sure you were propped up against the wall comfortably. Your eyes were glossy, and your head lolled to the side on your shoulder. 

“Had fun tonight?” Wanda asked you.

You murmured out what she assumed was a yes.

“Maybe a little too much fun from the looks of it,” she added.

You didn’t seem to hear her, and only giggled.

Wanda looked at you with a small smirk, “what’s so funny?”

“You’re so pretty, Wanda,” you said, sighing.

“Thank you, honey. You’re pretty too.”

You sighed exasperatedly, like Wanda was missing some important point.

“No, you don’t get it. You’re like reallyyyyyyyyy pretty.”

Wanda blushed a little, and she was glad you were too drunk to notice.

“So what happened tonight?” She asked, “why did you get so drunk?”

You shrugged your shoulders and giggled, “I don’t know. I wasn’t drunk, and then I was.”

“But this all seems like a bit much, honey.”

You didn’t respond, so she leaned forward and tucked a stray hair out of your face. This got your attention.

Wanda repeated herself, “why did you get so drunk?”

This time, you did respond. But it was a bunch of mumbles.

“What did you say?” She prodded gently.

You huffed, and Wanda didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed.

“Feelings.”

“Feelings?” Wanda repeated, “what do you mean?”

You groaned and slumped forward, resting your head on your knees.

“I was feeling feelings.”

Wanda reached out and tapped your shoulder, “can you sit up for me? I can’t understand you when you sit like that.”

You obliged and shuffled forward, resting your arms on the toilet seat and your head on your arms.

“This better?” You slurred.

“Yes, thank you, honey,” she answered kindly.

“You want to tell me about what feelings you were feeling?”

Though your head stayed resting on your arms, you shook it vigorously, and Wanda couldn’t help but find it cute the way your cheeks squished against your arm.

“You can trust me, baby,” she told you sweetly.

You contemplated this for a moment. Though a moment for you was many moments in sober time.

“Fine, fine. I’ll tell you. But you can never speak of this.”

Wanda nodded. She had to admit, she was pretty curious about what you were going to say.

You beckoned Wanda closer to you. She complied, but you only motioned at her again to come closer. It was not until her face was inches away from yours that you finally whispered, “I was feeling feelings for you, Wanda.”

Wanda’s heart beat erratically in her chest at your confession. The words echoed in her head over and over again.

(back to present)

She hears them again now, as you sit in front of her anxiously, and finally, soberly, say what drunk you already confessed last night.

Wanda doesn’t say anything. Or more like, you don’t give her the chance to. Instantly, you begin to nervously fill the silence.

“There, I said it. I have feelings for you, Wanda. And I'm sorry. I know that’s not how this was supposed to go. That it was just supposed to be some casual fling. But I just couldn’t help it. And I know you don’t feel the same way, but, yeah.”

It is silent again for a moment, and you look back down at your lap anxiously.

Finally, Wanda says something.

“I never said that.”

Your head shoots up and you look at her, “what?”

“I never said if I do or don’t have feelings for you. In fact, you never even asked.”

Your lip trembles a little, but you look Wanda straight in the eyes and say, “well, do you?”

*******************************************************

Tag list: @xenaizogie @alexawynters @eclipse727 @idkwhatever580 @opp-jumpscare @starynn @alessiaswifey @noturlondonboy @chickenlittlsblog @lizzieolsen89

[astonmartinii]

a very nonsense christmas | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem singer!reader

face claim: sabrina carpenter

based on this request: Hi, how are you can you please write something with Charles x singer reader like a part 2 of "nonsense... or is it?" based on Santa doesn't know you like I do music video something very wholesome idk you can ignore this if you want, hope you have a good day/night 🤍 - @rana030

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI? | PART ONE

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,441,934 others

yourusername: do you hear those slay bells ringing? i love christmas so much that i'm giving you guys six new songs for this holiday season !!

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user1: mama is going straight on the nice list for this one

user2: christmas is saved

charles_leclerc: so proud of you cherie

yourusername: says the muse

charles_leclerc: you're my angel on the top of the tree

yourusername: as long as you're under the tree ready to be unwrapped

pierregasly: STOP

alexalbon: we MUST protect the sanctity of christmas

yourusername: oh alex, do not listen to the ep...

alexalbon: too late just pressed play

alexalbon: YOU NEED THE CHARLES DICKENS ???

yourusername: amazing word play, am i right?

alexalbon: no.

charles_leclerc: he doesn't meant that babe. lily has a commitment, he's just lonely

user3: y/n was like "if you weren't aware, i am getting DICKED DOWN for christmas"

user4: as much as i'd peel all of my skin off to be in either of their positions, good for her

maxverstappen1: i think nonsense christmas has single handedly killed my investigative journalism career. i am not analysing charles' massive sack

yourusername: damn right you won't be

charles_leclerc: maybe you should analyse it, you could learn something from it

maxverstappen1: hOW DARE YOU

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,887,341 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, taylorswift & killatrav

yourusername: thank you to all the lovely people who came to the fruitcake release party ! xx

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user7: CHARLES AND TRAVIS IN ONE PLACE ALERT

user8: so does this mean we can get a y/n and charles appearance on the new heights podcast?

charles_leclerc: do you think people could tell i was about to pass out while playing the piano?

yourusername: definitely not !

maxverstappen1: yes we could

charles_leclerc: WHAT I WAS JUST NERVOUS AND I DIDN'T WANT TO LET Y/N DOWN AND TAYLOR WAS THERE SO I DIDN'T WANT TO EMBARRASS MYSELF

maxverstappen1: okay i didn't need the pity party. you were good, unfortunately very good. i need to learn piano now. i have to beat you in everything

yourusername: maybe you should've forgone the santa suit... it was quite warm

charles_leclerc: but you wanna be mrs claus ? (i also have a big north pole lol)

alexalbon: ENOUGH

user9: wait so like, was the grid at the release party?

user10: based on most of their instagram stories, and y/n's stories i'm gonna say yes

taylorswift: i had so much fun !! i love fruitcake and tell charlie his piano was great

charles_leclerc: SUCK ON THAT @maxverstappen1

taylorswift: ?

charles_leclerc: we've got bad blood taylor's version featuring kendrick lamar?

taylorswift: i see

maxverstappen1: he's the reason we can't have nice things

user11: someone free taylor from lestappen

killatrav: okay. the girls throw the best parties. esteban and pierre i own your team now, you guys gotta get better at drinking

yourusername: careful travis they're french ...

killtrav: is your boyfriend not also french? he's like a puppy dog

yourusername: HE'S MONAGASQUE

charles_leclerc: i am NOT french

estebanocon: i only threw up because eggnog is not what you guys advertise it to be

pierregasly: i'm not gonna lie i don't remember even seeing you last night

user12: okay so get invited to one of these parties is definitely on the bucket list now

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 1,922,033 others

tagged: yourusername, killatrav

charles_leclerc: charles and travis 🤝 just happy we got a chance

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user13: if he's not like them i don't want it

user14: if santa doesn't pull through with a man like them under my tree this year ... imma be mad

killatrav: travis and charles 🤝 having girlfriends that make us giggle and swing our feet

charles_leclerc: does the honeymoon phase ever finish?

killtrav: well it definitely hasn't for me

maxverstappen1: NOOOOOOOOOOOO

alexalbon: say it ain't so

yourusername: haters gonna hate 😎

alexalbon: he is so happy it is bordering on insufferable

charles_leclerc: alex :(

alexalbon: i am very happy for you charlie and lily is definitely very happy for you, but if you talk to me for the TWELVE HOUR flight to brazil again i will terminate this friendship

killtrav: i am so confused

user15: poor travis and taylor are just being exposed to the grid chaos

yourusername: you posting this like i'm not the luckiest girl in the world

charles_leclerc: i just love you so much and i'm so glad you shortlisted me for your music video

yourusername: yeah spolier alert there was no shortlist. i wanted you and i didn't want to get out right rejected...

charles_leclerc: as if i would reject any offer from you i think i would've torn down maranello if they said i wasn't allowed to be in it

scuderiaferrari: ?

user16: i'm so obsessed with how much charles has embraced the wag life

user17: can't believe i get to live a life where i can bop along to music about how good in bed charles leclerc is

user18: they better not break up cause i may be tifosi but i shall be streaming

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,833,922 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: santa doesn't know you like i do baby

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user21: all i want for christmas is even more y/n and charles content

user22: mum and dad have kept us fed over the winter break

user23: i'm not ready for them to be separated when the season starts again :(

charles_leclerc: not to be that person but we're so hot

yourusername: no, you should say it louder

charles_leclerc: WE'RE HOT

maxverstappen1: can you people knock it off or we're not coming to your christmas party

yourusername: ERM ??? 🫤

alexalbon: you people have single handedly made me the grinch

yourusername: but but but ??? you all begged for an invite :(

charles_leclerc: FAKE and that's why you're all getting coal from us

user24: my god i am so lonely

user25: if i don't wake up to a charles shape gift under my tree i will not make it to next christmas

danielricciardo: just to be sure, this party is not going to be filmed and turned into a music video?

yourusername: it's just an old-fashioned shin dig girly don't worry

yourusername: or by the tone of this, should i be worried?

danielricciardo: no!

charles_leclerc: do NOT ruin my home please

danielricciardo: no promises xoxoxo

user26: y/n might want to film the party but I NEED THE FOOTAGE

user27: @tedkravitz boy do i have a gig for you

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,093,445 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

danielricciardo: do NOT drink the eggnog at a y/n christmas party this is a public safety announcement

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user28: i would commit unspeakable crimes to be present here

yourusername: if you weren't a fake fan you would've listened to fruitcake and would know we spike the eggnog 🤷‍♀️

danielricciardo: i am a fan !!!!!!!!!

yourusername: you asked me and yuki how we escaped the north pole last night

yukitsunoda0511: don't think i've forgotten about that, say goodbye to a tow in quali old man

danielricciardo: IT WAS A COMPLIMENT ELVES ARE CUTE?

charles_leclerc: don't call my girlfriend cute that's my job 🤨

danielricciardo: do you people ever let me live? i am battling a hangover like no other please stop shouting at me

charles_leclerc: maybe someone of your old age should manage his drink better

danielricciardo: THAT'S IT I'M GOING

yourusername: thanks we did actually want the kitchen floor back

user29: daniel calling y/n and yuki elves kills me

yourusername: we're not elf height we're cutie patootie height 💅

yukitsunoda0511: amen

alexalbon: i will endure the torture because that was fucking insane

maxverstappen1: @yourusername you're in charge of all after parties now sorry

yourusername: let charlie win and you got a deal

maxverstappen1: i'd rather drink my gin and tonic in a ditch than let that happen

charles_leclerc: BOOO

alexalbon: cocktail recipe immediately @yourusername

yourusername: you've changed your tune ?

alexalbon: i had fun, sue me. plus i am actually happy for charlie but please no more singing about his dick

yourusername: i can't make any promises

charles_leclerc: and there's plenty of material to get the creative juices flowing

alexalbon: FUCK OFF

maxverstappen1: FUCK OFF

user30: the grid will never know peace, not even at christmas time

charles_leclerc

liked by taylorswift, yourusername and 1,893,446 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: nothing like the holidays with the love of your life

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user35: how down bad all men should be

yourusername: best holidays ever !!!! love you charlie xx

charles_leclerc: my christmas wish last year came true, and now you're stuck with me

yourusername: no one i would rather be stuck with

charles_leclerc: I LOVE YOU

yourusername: I LOVE YOU MORE

user36: good thing i got presents this year or the sheer sight of this couple would make me so jealous i would spontaneously combust

user37: real

landonorris: you will see to the crime of the stupid amount of mistletoe you had up at that damn party

charles_leclerc: have you seen y/n? (don't answer that) obviously i want any excuse to kiss her

landonorris: i DON'T CARE I HAD TO KISS DANIEL FIVE TIMES I WILL NEVER RECOVER

danielricciardo: i know you enjoyed baby

landonorris: @yourusername @charles_leclerc YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS

yourusername: idk it looked like you enjoyed it to me

landonorris: you WATCHED?

yourusername: i filmed it :) top blackmail material, don't crash into charlie OR ELSE

charles_leclerc: thanks babe

landonorris: @georgerussell63 get the gdpa to intervene nOW

georgerussell63: eh i'm quite entertained

user38: this really is the giving season huh

arthurleclerc: do i mean nothing to you?

charles_leclerc: you're nowhere near as cute as y/n 🤷‍♀️

yourusername: awwwww charlie

arthurleclerc: EXCUSE ME? WHAT HAPPENED TO CHRISTMAS SPIRIT?

user39: charles is really ride or die lol

note: have a very merry christmas! i hope you guys all have a great holiday season and enjoy this quick one! i've been super busy but wanted to give you all a lil christmas treat - much love xx