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ktownshizzle · 3 days ago

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A Christmas Encore | Part 1 of 2

✎ ��ˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: You never thought you’d see Min Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, not in this place. He left years ago with big dreams and bigger talent, trading snow-covered Seollim Hollow for the city lights of Seoul. But now, with the cultural center—the heart of your hometown—on the verge of being sold to a soulless corporation, you’ll do anything to save it.

When Yoongi appears on your doorstep, it feels like a miracle wrapped in regret. But as the two of you work together to save the center, old promises resurface, along with feelings you thought you’d left behind. Can you trust someone who was never meant to stay? Or will you just get hurt again?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Childhood Friends to Kinda Lovers to Kinda Strangers to Friends to Lovers (WHAT?! Yeah I got dizzy too) Second chances basically, Fluff, Smut, Mild Angst, Very Hallmark

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ only. Cheesy sometimes theatrical dialogue (just roll with it please), christmas cliches, virgin and vanilla sex (written in flashback scene), penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it), reader is in an FWB arrangement with a different male character, a couple of cute kisses, yoongi’s a little messy (thinks you have a boyfriend, but flirts with you anyways), lots of pining and yearning but MC is still a baddie who is fighting capitalism, Maknae line are here

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 11k (i knowww. 😬 That's why i’ve broken it in 2 parts)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting Date: December 28, 2024

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Hello ho ho. We are back with another Ginger Yoongi fic, because I lub him 🧡 If you’ve read the teaser, I added one significant line here which I placed in boldface. Flashbacks are in italics. Hope you are enjoying your holidays! :)

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

Part of A Holly, Jolly Holiday with Min Yun-Kay collab with @yooglefics

The air in Seollim Hollow’s town hall is colder than the streets outside, though snow has been falling all day. You stand stiffly in front of Mr. Choi’s desk, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you try to keep the trembling in your hands at bay. Mr. Choi, the man who holds the fate of the cultural center in his grasp, leans back in his chair, his gaze apologetic but firm.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” he says, his tone measured, almost regretful. “You have to understand, the town needs this money. We’ve been running on fumes for years, and this offer… it’s more than we could have ever hoped for.”

“Fuck money!” You slam your hand on his desk, voice thick with frustration. “You know what that center means to this town. It’s not just a building—it’s where the kids go after school, where the seniors quilt their memories together, where people connect in ways they can’t anywhere else. Without it, Seollim Hollow loses a part of itself.”

Mr. Choi’s expression softens for a moment. “I know,” he says quietly, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the desk. “I really do. That’s why this decision wasn’t easy. But this isn’t just about sentimentality. The town’s been struggling, and we can’t keep running on good intentions alone. The offer they’ve made—it’s more money than we’ve seen in years. It’s enough to keep us afloat.”

“By selling our soul to a corporation,” you counter bitterly, your grip tightening on the edge of his desk. “By tearing apart the heart of this town.”

“It’s not personal,” he replies softly, though his tone carries the weight of his own conflict. “It’s not easy, either. I’m just trying to do what’s best for the town.”

“What if…” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you’ve even thought them through. “What if I can find the money to match their offer? Would you give me the chance to save it?”

“Do you know how much they’re offering?”

“Tell me.”

He rattles off a number, and–shit–your heart sinks. It’s worse than you imagined, the kind of figure that feels impossible.

Mr. Choi’s voice softens. “It’s a lot, I know. And honestly, I don’t think it’s fair to put this on you. But if you’re serious, and you think you can do it… I’ll give you two months. Two months to pull it together. If you can match the offer, I’ll bring it to the council.”

His gaze is steady, earnest. You can tell he doesn’t believe you’ll succeed, but there’s a quiet sincerity in his voice, like he wants to give you the chance, even if it’s a long shot.

You nod, jaw tight, and push away from his desk. “I’ll do it,” you say firmly, even as your stomach churns.

“The buyer’s representative will be in town soon to finalize details,” Mr. Choi says, shuffling papers. “They’ve been… persistent.” He hesitates before looking at you with a grimace. “I just hope they’re as reasonable as they seem.”

As you turn to leave, his voice stops you. “For what it’s worth,” he says softly, “I hope you succeed.”

The cultural center feels like a refuge as you step inside, shaking snow from your boots. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and make your way to the meeting room where the rest of the team is waiting.

Everyone is already bundled up in their winter layers, scarves and hats still clinging to stray flakes of snow. They sit around the table, faces ranging from cautious to hopeful. These people are the lifeblood of this place—they’ve poured countless hours into keeping the cultural center alive and making the people feel the same way through music, sports, and art.

There’s Jungkook, a pitch-perfect singer whose natural talent and boundless energy makes every day a little brighter, his enthusiasm infectious even on the hardest days.

There’s Jimin, a former ballerina whose grace and dedication to dance and sports inspire everyone to push a little harder, his charm and easy warmth a constant source of comfort.

And there’s Taehyung, an artist with a quiet yet magnetic presence, his creative soul always dreaming up murals, community projects, and ways to make the town a little more beautiful.

Oh, and between the three of them, their face card never declines.

With their immense talent, killer looks, and hearts of gold, you couldn’t ask for a better group of soldiers to see you through this ordeal.

You take a deep breath and face them. “Alright,” you say, and your voice is steady this time. “We’ve got two months to save this place. That’s it. We need to raise enough money to match the offer from the corporation, or it’s gone. We can do this, but it’s going to take everything we’ve got.”

“How much is the offer?” Taehyung asks hesitantly.

You tell them, and a ripple of gasps moves through the room. It’s a huge number. Maybe impossible. But it’s not completely out of reach.

“We’re going to hold a benefit concert,” you say. “A big one. Something that’ll get the entire town involved. We’ll sell tickets, get sponsors, take donations—whatever it takes. This can work. It has to work.”

Ideas fly around the room. Jungkook says the children’s choir he conducts can perform. Taehyung lists a couple of local baker-artisans that can organize a bake sale, and he volunteers to start a website so they can accept online orders. There’s a spark of energy in the air, cautious but real, and it makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this isn’t impossible.

“Do you think this will be enough?” Jimin asks as he surmises all the ideas he’s scribbled on the whiteboard.

Silence falls over the group. They’re looking at you, waiting for a solution you don’t have yet. You force a smile and say, “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

The meeting wraps up, and the others file out, leaving you alone in your office.

You stay through the night thinking of ways to make this work. You sit at your desk, scribbling a to-do list, chewing on the end of your pen. Next, you’re drawing up budgets, listing contacts. God this is a fuckin’ mess. You’ve made a promise to your team, but the cracks in it are already starting to show.

Then, you hear a shuffle of footsteps outside your office and freeze. It’s late. Too late for anyone to still be here. Shit.

You should’ve locked up when the boys left earlier. Too late now.

Your pulse kicks up as you glance at the coat rack in the corner, grabbing the old baseball bat you keep propped against it. You stand, holding the bat tightly in both hands as you approach the door.

“Hello?” you call out, trying to sound calm but firm.

The figure standing in the doorway doesn’t move. They’re tall, dressed in a black coat, with a ball cap pulled low over their face. Your heart races. An intruder? Someone sent by the corporation to intimidate you?

“Don’t fuckin’ try anything,” you say sharply, raising the bat a little higher. “My… my boyfriend’s a cop.”

The figure finally shifts, lifting their hands slightly in surrender. “Relax,” they say, their voice low and familiar. Too familiar.

You freeze. That voice is impossible to mistake.

The man reaches up and tips his cap back, revealing a face that stops you in your tracks. Min Yoongi.

Your mind scrambles to catch up. It’s him. But not exactly how you remember. His eyes are even sharper, his jawline more defined. Tufts of bright hair peaks from his cap. He’s wrapped in a black coat that fits him perfectly, the snow-dusted collar somehow making him look like he’s stepped out of a k-drama.

“What…” Your grip loosens on the bat, and it clatters to the floor. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi’s mouth quirks into the faintest smile, the same one you’ve seen in every polaroid and Christmas card he’s sent over the years. “Hi,” he says simply, as if he hasn’t just materialized in your life after years of absence.

You stare at him, your thoughts a snowstorm. He looks good—too fuckin’ good, if you’re being honest. But he doesn’t belong here, standing in the doorway of your tiny office like he’s just another guy in town.

And yet, here he is.

(Flashback)

You’ve always known Min Yoongi. At least, that’s how it feels. He’s been part of your life for so long that imagining a version of it without him is impossible.

Your parents had been neighbors, then friends, and you’d grown up sharing porches and bike rides and bowls of tteokguk on New Year’s morning. When you were younger, you’d bicker like siblings, but by the time you hit your teens, something had shifted—an unspoken understanding between you, like you’d been playing different roles all along and had finally settled into the right ones.

You’d always thought of Yoongi as yours, in some indefinable way. Not like a boyfriend, not like family, but something in between.

It’s late one night when the bond between you is cemented forever.

You’re sixteen and walking home from a talent show at the community center. Snow falls in lazy flurries, clinging to your scarf and catching in Yoongi’s coat. The air smells crisp and clean, and the night feels like something out of a dream.

Yoongi’s carrying his guitar slung over his shoulder, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He’s quiet, still riding the high of his first-ever performance. You’d clapped so hard your palms were stinging by the end, and the memory makes you smile.

“You were good,” you tell him. “Not just ‘good for your first time,’ but, like… really good.”

He shrugs, but the tips of his nose turn red. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters, pulling his beanie lower to hide his eyes. “Thanks.”

You laugh, a puff of white in the cold air. “I am truly honored to know such the nation’s next musical superstar.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. You know Yoongi well enough to recognize it for what it is—real pride, buried under layers of modesty.

“You should keep doing this. You’re going to be great at it.”

Yoongi stops, turning to look at you. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are soft. “You really think that?”

“Of course,” you say without hesitation. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He glances down at the snow for a moment, his breath fogging the air. Then, quietly, he says, “If I’m serious about this, I’ll have to leave. I can’t do it here.”

The words settle heavily between you, and for a moment, you can’t find anything to say. You knew Yoongi wanted more, wanted a life bigger than Seollim Hollow could give him. But hearing him say it out loud feels different. More real. You swallow a lump in your throat.

“Not now,” he adds quickly, almost like he’s trying to reassure you. “Not yet. But someday.”

Your chest tightens, but you force a smile. “Well, when you’re famous, you better not forget me. I’ll show up in Seoul and embarrass you in front of all your fancy friends.”

That makes him laugh–his soundless shoulder chuckle you always love seeing. “Forget you? Nah, you’re too weird...”

“Promise me, then,” you say, holding out your pinky. “You’ll never forget the weird girl.”

He looks at your hand for a moment, then hooks his pinky around yours. His fingers are warm against the cold night. “Fine,” he says. “But only if you promise the same.”

“Deal.”

You’re about to let go, thinking that’s the end of it, when Yoongi glances up at the streetlamp above you. Hanging there, half-hidden by the snow, is a sprig of mistletoe.

He hesitates, his hand still holding yours, and looks at you with an unspoken question in his eyes.

Your pulse skips. For a moment, the rest of the world seems to fall away. Just you and him, standing under the mistletoe.

You nod, giving him your answer without a word.

He leans in slowly, his breath warm against your cold cheeks. His lips brush yours, soft and careful, and the moment is an ice sculpture, so fragile you’re afraid to move, afraid it might shatter.

When he pulls back, you’re both quiet, the snow falling around you like a curtain closing on a scene. Yoongi’s cheeks are pink, looking away but his lips hold the faintest of smiles.

He walks forward, glances back though he’s not quite meeting your eyes when he says, “You won’t forget that, will you?”

“Not a chance,” you say, biting your lip as you surge forward, bumping him as you walk ahead with a happiness you couldn’t quite contain.

And in that moment, you believe it. You believe you’ll carry that moment with you forever.

(End of Flashback)

Adulthood changes everything.

Yoongi leaves a few years after that night. Three to be exact. He tells you quietly one day, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the cultural center’s music room, that he’s moving to Seoul to chase his dream to be a serious musician. You wish you could say you’re surprised, but you’re not. You knew he’d leave eventually. You’d prepared yourself for it.

Or at least you thought you had.

At first, you keep in touch. There are phone calls, texts, even a few visits during holidays. But slowly, inevitably, the gaps between those moments grow wider. Yoongi gets busier, and you try not to hold it against him. You hear whispers from mutual friends about how well he’s doing, about the producers and idols he’s working with. You’re proud of him. You always knew he’d be brilliant.

But sometimes, late at night, you feel the ache of his absence. You miss him. You miss the way he used to make you laugh when you were having a bad day, the way he’d quietly push his half-eaten snacks in your direction because he knew you’d forget to eat when you were stressed.

You tell yourself it’s for the best. You’ve learned that love—real love—isn’t just about wanting someone. It’s about being able to keep them. And Yoongi was never yours to keep.

Even as your lives drift apart, there’s one thing Yoongi never forgets. Every year, without fail, a postcard arrives in your mailbox a few days before Christmas.

They’re always simple—no long, heartfelt messages, just a quick note scrawled in his familiar handwriting. “Merry Christmas.” “Hope you’re doing well.” Sometimes, if he’s feeling generous, he’ll add, “I miss home.”

You keep every single one. They’re tucked in a small box under your bed, and every December, you take them out and read through them. It’s a ritual you never admit to anyone. The postcards remind you of a part of him you thought you’d lost, a thread of connection that still holds, no matter how frayed it might feel.

Sometimes you wonder what they mean to him—if he sends them out of obligation, out of nostalgia, or because he misses you in the same way you miss him. But you never ask.

You think of Yoongi as the one who got away. And you’ve made your peace with it. He deserves to chase his dreams, and you deserve a life with someone who won’t leave.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

“Fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop…”

“I’m not stopping, princess.”

The grip the man has on your waist tightens as he drives his cock to your entrance, fast and deep. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the quiet of your room, matching the beat of your headboard banging against the wall. The neighbors are gonna hate you.

“C’mon, princess, cum with me” his hand reaches forward, parting your slick folds to rub your swollen clit furiously. Shit—

“I’m almost there…” you pant.

After a particularly hard thrust, you’re moaning, and he’s groaning, and you’re both coming at the same time, bliss washing over your body in waves.

You fall flat against your pillows as he pulls out and you sigh. You really needed that release.

Minutes later, Sgt. Jung Hoseok—Seollim Hollow’s most cheerful cop and your sometimes stress relief—grins at you from the other side of your bed like you’ve just handed him the best news of the year.

“Min Yoongi’s back in town? Wowwww…” he says, dragging the words out as he stretches his arms behind his head. His grin widens when you don’t answer right away. “Is that why you called me tonight? You never initiate. Is this some kind of nervous breakdown booty call?”

You throw a pillow at him, but Hoseok just catches it, laughing so hard his shoulders shake.

“Shut up,” you mutter, but the warmth in your cheeks gives you away.

When you were in your teens, Yoongi and Hoseok were the town’s favorite duo, the cute boys everyone couldn’t help but smile at. Hoseok was the one who dragged Yoongi into b-boying, claiming they’d be unstoppable if they combined Yoongi’s rhythm with his own moves. And even though Yoongi liked to grumble about how much he hated it, he was actually pretty good—not that he’d ever admit it. Still, you knew he was way more into playing instruments than throwing himself into flips and spins.

They were total opposites—Hoseok all sunshine and endless energy, Yoongi the moody, chill counterpart—but somehow, it worked. The town loved seeing them running through the streets, jumping off ledges, or randomly breaking out into a routine just for fun. They were just two boys with way too much chemistry and rhythm to keep to themselves.

But just like you and Yoongi, he and Hoseok also drifted apart when he moved to Seoul. Hoseok took the more practical approach, used the innate energy and strength he has to keep the community safe. He followed in the footsteps of his dad and became one of the neighborhood policemen.

“Your face…” He cackles, sitting up now, bare chest gleaming in the low light of your bedroom. “Did you just realize you’re still hung up on him after all these years?”

“Yah!!!” Your stomach flips, and you hate that he’s got you pegged so easily. You mutter a feeble, “Fuck you.”

“Already did,” he teases and you roll your eyes.

The “friends with benefits” part of your relationship started casually, almost accidentally early this year, and over the past months, it became something routine. A distraction. A comfort. Nothing more, and you both liked it that way.

Except right now, Hoseok looks entirely too smug, like he knows things you haven’t admitted to yourself.

You hesitate, suddenly sheepish, and Hoseok’s sharp eyes catch it instantly. He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well…” You pick at a loose thread on the blanket, avoiding his gaze. “I might have said something… dumb when I saw him.”

“Define dumb.”

Your cheeks burn. “I told him my boyfriend’s a cop.”

Hoseok blinks. Then he bursts out laughing, so loud and sudden it startles you. “Oh my God,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “You mean me? You told Yoongi I’m your boyfriend?”

“I didn’t say it was you!” you snap, throwing another pillow at him. “I just panicked, okay? He showed up out of nowhere, and I thought he was gonna murder me!”

“Yah... He’s gonna figure it out, you know. You think he’s stupid?”

You groan, pressing your hands to your face. “I don’t know, Hoseok! I was already having a bad day.”

That shuts him up for a second. Hoseok straightens, his laughter softening into something more thoughtful. He tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re really messed up over this, huh?”

“No, I’m not—”

“Can’t wait to run into him soon. See how the big-shot producer’s doing,” he says.

You sigh, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “I was thinking about asking him to help with the benefit concert, actually.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to ask your childhood best friend—who also happens to be the guy you’ve been quietly pining for since forever—to save the town’s cultural center with some grand Christmas concert?”

“You roll your eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure,” he says, dragging the word out with all the disbelief he can muster. “Honestly, it sounds like the plot of a good story, and I can’t wait to read it.”

“Hoseok,” you warn, but he just chuckles, standing up and grabbing his clothes from the floor.

“Look,” he says, tugging on his jeans, “if you think you want to start something with Yoongi—like, really start something—I’m cool with calling this,” he gestures between the two of you, “off. No hard feelings. I’m not about to stand in the way of a Christmas miracle or whatever.”

You gape at him. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m serious,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head.

You shake your head, trying to play it off. “I’m not–Yoongi’s just… probably in between things. He’ll be gone again before New Year’s. I’m not counting on anything.”

“You sure about that?”

“A thousand per cent.”

“Alright,” Hoseok shrugs. “Knew you couldn’t last a week without hopping on my dick anyway…”

“Boy! If you don’t–” you throw a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face.

That makes him laugh again, his bright, warm laughter filling the room as he pulls on his jacket. “Aight, I’m just playing,” he says, still chuckling, but his tone is lighter now. “I’m out. But call me if you need me.”

As the door clicks shut behind him, you lean back against your pillows, staring at the ceiling. You know Hoseok means well, but he doesn’t get it. Yoongi was never meant to stay. He made that clear years ago, and you’ve made your peace with it. You’re not about to let yourself hope for anything more. Not this time.

Why couldn’t you just fall in love with someone like Hoseok?

The next time you see Yoongi, he looks like he’s stepped straight out of some idol photofolio.

It’s mid-morning, and you’re walking toward the café on Main Street when you spot him across the square. Shelby, the dog his mom got years ago, is tugging at her leash, bounding through the snow while Yoongi trails behind her, americano in hand. His orange hair glows against the overcast sky, a cobalt jacket pulling his frame together like he’s stepped out of an editorial.

He looks striking. Expensive. Entirely out of place in Seollim Hollow.

You don’t realize your feet are moving until you’re halfway across the street. “Yoongi!”

He looks up, pausing mid-sip of his coffee, and tilts his head slightly when he sees you. Shelby stops sniffing a patch of snow and wags her tail furiously at the attention.

“Hi Shelby!” You say, scratching the back of her ear for a few seconds before turning to the cat-like man who was looking at you amusedly. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad.”

You hum, pouting as you try to string together the words you wanted to say.

His lips form a straight line, the edges of his mouth bracketing his awkward smile.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say, willing your voice to steady.

Yoongi’s brow lifts slightly. “What about?”

“You’re a music producer, right?”

He shrugs, “Why? What do you need…”

So you tell him your predicament. How some greedy, low-life motherfuckers want to tear down the cultural center. (His eyebrows shoot straight to his hairline when you say this, but you’re just getting warmed up.)

“Like, who even does that?” you rant. “Only the worst kind of people. The type who steal candy from babies, kick dogs—not you Shelby girl—and probably thinks pizza tastes good with pickles.” You pause, pointing at him for emphasis. “And not in the fun, quirky way either. Like, sociopath level.”

Yoongi blinks at you, clearly trying to process your spiraling rage. “So… you’re upset.”

“Fuck yeah I’m upset!” you snap, gesturing wildly. “They’re trying to destroy something important! For what? To build another strip mall no one’s going to shop at because Amazon exists? It’s evil. Straight-up Squid Games territory.”

“Is that what they’re doing with it?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know. I don’t care. They’re all the same capitalist motherfuckers in my book. But they’re not taking the beating heart of this town. Over my dead body.”

At this, Yoongi just nods slowly, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “Remind me never to cross you.”

You further explain your ideas to save the town. But where he comes in is the benefit concert. You tell him you need his help in song arrangements, coordinating and coaching the performances, even performing himself, if he’s willing. You’re careful to manage your tone, to make it sound less desperate than it is. He listens, his face unreadable, but he’s probably qualifying if he can actually help you, or maybe if he even wants to.

“All the proceeds are going toward reclaiming the cultural center,” you say firmly. “If we hit our goal, we can match the corporation’s offer and keep it from being sold.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Shelby, apparently bored, starts sniffing his shoes. “I can help,” he says finally.

Your chest loosens with relief. “Seriously?”

He shrugs, lips twitching upward. “Yeah. But you’ll owe me a drink. Or dinner. Something.”

“I can do that.”

His smirk grows faintly. “So… you want me to perform too, or just help with arrangements?”

“You’d perform?”

“Depends.” He tilts his head. “How desperate are you?”

“Enough to go down on my knees.”

His eyes are like saucers, but he keeps the rest of his face neutral. “Mm. Noted.”

Suddenly you realize what your words could’ve meant and your nervous laughter spills out before you can stop it. “I just meant I’m not too proud to beg.”

“Again, noted.”

“Shut up.”

“Didn’t think you meant anything else,” he tells you, although you can tell he’s lying by the way he’s poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue.

Just as you’re wrapping up the conversation, Yoongi glances at you, his voice shifting slightly. “Oh, I ran into your boyfriend earlier…”

You tilt your head dumbly.

“Hob-ah.”

Oh shit. Your stomach drops. “Ah, Hoseok. My boyfriend…” you quickly remember the lie, and you recover, kinda. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone as casual as ever. “We ran into each other at the bakery. He was picking up red bean buns for his appa.”

You nod, throat dry.

Yoongi hums, sipping his coffee. “Guess nice guys really do get the girl in the end.”

Before you can even process what he just said, you hear the unmistakable voice of his eomma from across the street.

“Well,” he says, adjusting Shelby’s leash. “See ya.”

He lingers for a beat, then gives a small wave before turning to walk away.

You stand frozen, Yoongi’s words looping through your head. You shake your head, trying to push the thought away. A pang of bitterness settles in your gut. Yoongi’s wrong. The type of guys that get the girl? The ones who stay.

When Yoongi shows up at your office the following Monday, and it takes everything in you not to gape like an idiot.

He’s wearing a black turtleneck that fits him too well, sharp and effortless in a way that makes him look untouchable. He’s leaning against your doorframe like he has nowhere else to be, a small notebook tucked under his arm, which looks just like the notebook he used to scribble lyrics in back when you were teenagers.

“You’re early,” you say, as you settle your bag on your desk.

“Well, you’re the one running the show. Figured I’d want to stay on your good side.”

You roll your eyes, “Sit. I’ll get you up to speed. And Yoongi, you’re working pro bono, you’re already on my good side.”

He grins slightly, scratching his nose as he shakes his head. It’s the same mannerism he’s had when you were young, when he’s just a tad embarrassed. You try not to be too endeared even though it’s virtually impossible.

You walk him through your plans for the benefit concert, pointing out the lineup you’ve pulled together so far. Yoongi listens quietly, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of your desk as you speak.

“You’re really pulling this together,” he observes.

“It’s been a group effort. You should meet the maknaes, they’re the reason everything is moving so swiftly,” you say, brushing it off. “But we’re still short of a showstopper. Someone who’ll get the town buzzing.”

Yoong nods his head. “If you want I can make some phone calls, see who I can rope in from my contacts.”

“You’d do that to save the center?”

“Yeah, I’d do it for you,” he nods. “And the town.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. “Thank you. I owe you.”

He exhales softly and leans back in his chair. “I already told you, just buy me dinner once and we’ll call it even.”

You let the silence fester for a bit, but curiosity got the best of you.

“Why are you here anyway?” you ask, the words tumbling out before you can second-guess them. “Not that I don’t appreciate the help, but you kind of appeared like some apparition all of a sudden.”

Yoongi looks at you for a beat too long, like he’s debating whether to tell you the truth. Then he shrugs, eyes dropping to his notebook. “I guess I was just missing home. And eomma’s been on my case about coming back for the holidays this year, so…”

You don’t understand why he looks sus. His answer is casual, but unconvincing. You still don’t know if you’re buying it.

“Okay,” you say, because pressing him won’t get you anywhere. But as you move on to the next topic, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more he’s not telling you.

“It’s funny,” he says casually, looking around the cultural center. “I didn’t think this place would look as well as it does.”

You give him a funny look. “What do you mean?”

“I just thought it’d be more… decrepit? It’s been here since we were young.”

“You’d be surprised what this town can do when it comes together. The Kim’s donated paint one year, even did all the labor. We did a fundraiser to get new musical equipment. The maknaes did all the regrouting and retiling in the bathrooms and the pantry.”

“You’re amazing.”

“It’s all them,” you say, kicking your shoe lightly on the carpeted floor.

Yoongi smirks, “you don’t know the effect you have on people, Y/N.”

Your cheeks flush.

“They may have done the brunt work, but you’re the leader that inspired them to do it,” he says, with the confidence of someone who’s known you all his life. Even if he did disappear for years. “It’s not easy keeping things alive.”

Your heart stops for a second at his words. You know he’s just talking about the center. He’s not talking about anything else. Certainly not his unspoken feelings towards you that were obviously left in the past. So you manage a curt, “Thanks, Yoongi.”

When he comes over the next day, he’s all business. He steps into your office with his notebook and a couple of sheets of paper, saying he has ideas for the lineup.

You’re expecting something good, but what he shows you takes your breath away.

“These arrangements are perfect,” you say, flipping through the pages he’s handed you. It’s been years since you’ve seen his work up close, but the brilliance of it still stuns you. “You’re still… incredible at this, Yoongi.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears are faintly pink, and the sight tugs at something deep in your chest.

“And this…” You pause at the last page. “What’s this song?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he nods toward the piano in the corner of the room. “C’mere. I’ll show you.”

You hesitate, your heart already pounding, but you follow him. He sits down on the bench, and without a word, he gestures for you to sit next to him. The space is too small. Your shoulder brushes his, and you suddenly feel nineteen again. The last time you sat beside each other in this very bench, in this very room, is still ingrained in your memory. You wonder if he even remembers.

Yoongi’s fingers press against the keys, and the first notes ring out softly, reverently. The melody is mesmerizing, weaving through the room like smoke curling through the air. You watch his hands—elegant and sure and effortless.

And somewhere between the rise and fall of the music, you can’t stop yourself from still wondering: Why did he leave? Why did he let so much time pass without a word? And why, now that he’s back, does it feel like you can’t breathe when he’s near?

The song ends too soon, the last note lingering in the air as Yoongi turns to you. He catches you staring, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks quietly.

You swallow hard, unable to look away. “I– I don’t know.”

His gaze drops to your lips, staying there for just a moment too long. And, wait–is he leaning just a little closer?

You think he’s going to kiss you. You want him to kiss you.

But then Yoongi pulls back slightly, his expression shifting. “Hoseok’s probably waiting for you at home.”

The words douse the warmth in you like a bucket of ice cold water.

Your stomach drops, and you can’t stop the truth from falling between your lips, “No, he’s not.”

Yoongi nods once, his face unreadable again as he stands. “Still, I should go.”

You don’t stop him. You can’t. Because you have to remind yourself, he’s not here for you. You don’t even know if he wants to stay or if you could ever ask him that. If your past is an indication, Yoongi was never yours to keep and you were never enough to make him stay.

When the door closes behind him, you’re left sitting at the piano bench alone, your heart still racing and your thoughts an absolute mess.

(Flashback)

It had been a quiet winter evening, the kind of cold that numbed your cheeks and made your breath fog up in front of you. The cultural center was nearly empty, save for you and Yoongi, tucked away in the rec room where he was hunched over an old piano. The air smelled faintly of dust and wood polish, the dim lights casting long shadows across the room.

Yoongi’s fingers moved over the keys with absent precision, but the music wasn’t soft tonight. There was tension in the notes—sharp and uneven, like his thoughts were spilling out of him one chord at a time. You watched from the doorway, arms crossed, the anger in your chest building until it felt like you might burst.

“So that’s it?” you blurted out suddenly, your voice loud in the silence. “You’re just leaving?”

Yoongi’s hands stilled immediately, the final note ringing harsh and hollow before fading out. He looked up, frowning. “You knew I was leaving.”

“You didn’t say it was this soon.”

He sighed, turning back to the keys, playing a few softer notes now—like he was trying to calm both the piano and himself. “You make it sound like I’m never coming back.”

“Are you?” You stepped into the room, the accusation sharp in your tone. “Because it sure feels like you’re running, Yoongi. From this place. From… everything.”

He turned to face you fully then, his brows drawn together. “I’m not running.”

“Yes, you are!” The words came out louder than you’d intended, and Yoongi blinked, surprised at your volume. But you didn’t stop. “You’re leaving your mom, leaving me—all so you can go chase some stupid dream in the city.”

Yoongi flinched at that, his expression darkening. “It’s not stupid.”

“It feels stupid,” you shot back, your voice trembling now. “What’s wrong with staying here? With making a life here? ”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something you couldn’t quite read. “For you, maybe. But not for me.”

The words hit like a slap. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but Yoongi wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice lower now, quieter but just as cutting. “You’ve never wanted to leave this place. You don’t need to look elsewhere to give your family a chance at a better life. You’re happy here, stuck in this tiny town where nothing ever changes. But that’s not me. I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” you asked, the question breaking out of you like a plea.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly. “Because I want more, okay? I want… I don’t know. I wanna be rich, I wanna be me, I wanna be something.”

“And what am I?” you whispered, the words barely audible. “Am I nothing?”

Yoongi froze, his expression faltering for the first time. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But that’s what it feels like,” you said, your voice breaking as you turned away from him. “You make it sound like staying here means I’m such a loser. Like I’m not enough.”

“That’s not—”

“No.” You spun back to face him, tears pricking at your eyes. “Just go, Yoongi. Go to Seoul. Go be something, like you keep saying. I hope it’s worth it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You waited for him to say something—anything—that might fix the jagged edges of the fight, but he didn’t. He just stood there, his face unreadable, his hands hanging loosely at his sides.

That night, you toss and turn in your sheets, the ache in your chest refusing to let you sleep. The silence of the room feels heavy, the kind that makes every sound louder—the creak of the floor, the rustle of your blanket.

Then there’s a knock. A soft, deliberate rap on your window.

You sit up, heart already pounding, and there he is. His silhouette is familiar in a way that makes your throat tighten, hunching over the windowsill before he lands on your carpet with a dull thud.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, rolling on your bed to face away from him, hoping the distance might make it easier to breathe.

“I can’t go like this,” he says.

“It’s fine,” you reply quickly, your voice quieter than you meant.

“The hell it is.”

You hear the shuffle of fabric as something—probably his coat—falls to the floor. And then the mattress dips under his weight, and before you can steel yourself, warmth blooms behind you. His arms slide around you, pulling you against him with a kind of confidence that feels too natural for something you’ve never done before.

“What are you doing, Yoongi?” Your voice shakes, and you hate how it betrays you, how it cracks under the weight of the tears threatening to spill.

“Shh…” he murmurs, tucking you closer to him, his forehead pressing against the back of your head. “Don’t cry.”

Your breath hitches, and you choke out, “I hate you.” It’s a lie, of course, but your heart pounds against your chest, calling you out for it anyway.

Yoongi hums, his breath warm against your neck, and the sound is a smirk made audible. “No, you don’t.”

You roll over to face him, your vision blurry now. His face is close, closer than it’s been in years, and the glassiness of his eyes mirrors your own. There’s a sadness there, deep and heavy, that he doesn’t say out loud but you can feel pressing against you like a second heartbeat.

“It’d be a hell of a lot easier if I did,” you whisper, a tear slipping down your cheek.

Before you can process what’s happening, Yoongi leans forward and kisses it away, his lips brushing your skin so softly it makes you shiver. He pulls back, searching your face.

“Is it okay if I…” He trails off, the question hanging in the air.

You know the question. You answer without words, leaning in and closing the gap between you. Your lips slot against his, and it’s slow at first but it deepens quickly, your fingers tangling in his hair, his hands pulling you closer like you’re the one who’s skipping town.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing uneven. But he doesn’t stay still for long—his hands find your waist, sliding up beneath your shirt until they rest just beneath your ribs. His touch is warm, and your breath stutters in response.

“I want you,” you say softly, your voice barely audible.

He nods, his voice rough when he says, “Me too, baby. I want you so bad.”

The shirt is gone before you know it, leaving you exposed to the cool air, but the warmth of Yoongi’s touch quickly erases the chill. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips finding yours again he cups the underside of your breast and smooths a calloused thumb over a nipple. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

“Off,” you mumble against his mouth, tugging at his sweater. He obliges, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this—bare, unguarded.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

When he sinks into you that night, it feels like your world is spinning off its axis. The fullness, the warmth, the way his body feels against yours—it’s overwhelming in a way that makes you feel complete. His taste, his softness, his scent, you’re drowning in everything Yoongi and you’re not sure you want to resurface.

“Yoongi,” you breathe out, air sucked out of your lungs as he bottoms out.

“Shit,” he grunts, voice raw as he stares at the area where your bodies have connected. “You feel so good.”

“Baby…” you test the name on your lips, wishing this wasn’t the first, and likely last. You plant your hands on his shoulders. “Go slow.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, and he does—slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize every moment, every sound, every gasp, every single feeling.

It’s a little painful at first, the stretch of his cock against your walls pulls a soft whimper from your lips. Yoongi notices immediately—of course he does. His fingers slide gently along your jaw, tilting your face toward him as his mouth finds yours. He kisses you slowly, tongue sweeping against yours in a way that steals your focus, drowning out every inconsequential ache.

Soon, there is nothing else but bliss. Pleasure has bloomed full force as he fucks into you.

His mouth moves to your neck, teeth sharp as he clamps down your soft skin, no doubt wanting to leave his mark. It’s a little cruel, you would think days after when a Yoongi-shaped hole suddenly forms in your heart, but tonight, you revel in the fact that he wants to claim you as his.

“Baby,” you plead. God, why do you sound so desperate?

Something builds and builds inside you, threatening to explode and you’re afraid, so fucking terrified that you won’t find every single piece of yourself when you shatter.

“Yoongi…” you call his name again, the storm in you gaining strength, even though the pace of his thrusts are unchanged.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks you half-heartedly, busy pushing your tits upward to capture a nipple in his mouth and sucking gently.

“Ahh, shit.” That’s nice. You love it but you need more. “Can you go faster?”

“Okay, yeah,” he adjusts his stance, slipping out of you momentarily, and you feel your juices seeping out of your cunt and onto your sheets. “Can you maybe raise your leg higher?”

You do so, holding the back of your knees, opening up to him wide and wanton, shame out the door and into the flurry of snow outside.

He lines himself up on your slick entrance, this time slipping straight inside without much resistance. He thrusts again, hitting you deeper and better at this angle.

Your eyes meet as he bucks his hips into you over and over. Your eyelids grow heavier with every passing second, but you fight to keep them open, desperate to hold onto this moment. You want to memorize him—every detail, every fleeting movement. The way his hair falls, framing those sharp, feline eyes that hold something soft beneath their intensity. The way his pink, pillowy lips part slightly, his sinful tongue skimming the corner of his mouth. He looks tender yet determined, his focus unwavering as he works to make this good for you. There’s a gentleness to it, a care that leaves your chest aching even as your body melts under his touch.

His hand makes its way down to where your sweaty bodies are linked, thumb searching your clit against your slippery folds. Has he done this before? Because how can he know that the wiggle of his single digit is enough for you to lose your goddamn mind. You want to scream, at the risk of getting caught by your eomma, but you can’t care about that right now. The pads of his thumb brushes over you, pulling a gasp from your lips as your senses blur, overwhelmed by him—his touch, his heat, the way he seems to know exactly how to unravel you.

“Take it, baby,” he urges, voices as reverent as his every movement.

Soon you’re keening at the pressure on your nub and the friction against your inner walls. Your pleasure crests without warning, body arching towards him as you ride out your orgasm.

“God you’re so tight, shit I’m about to—“

A few sloppy thrusts, a stutter in his breath and a stretched out groan. You close your eyes, every feeling increasing in intensity, and suddenly you’re empty, you hear a grunt, and his warm cum spills on your pussy lips, sliding towards your ass.

It’s messy. He’s sweaty. You’re spent.

The feeling is unfamiliar, the sensations coursing through your body strangely new. Yet, it’s the whirlwind of jumbled thoughts in your mind that unsettles you the most.

Afterward, you lie tangled together, your head resting against his chest. The weight of the moment feels too much, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out: “I wish I could keep you.”

Yoongi tenses, his hand coming up to rest against your back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he presses a kiss against your hair. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

The next morning, you woke to find that Yoongi was gone.

It wasn’t until two days later, when you finally found the courage to sit at the piano in the rec room, that you found the note. It was tucked carefully inside the piano bench, folded neatly and written in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting: Don’t forget.

As if you could. He’s made it impossible not to.

(End of Flashback)

It starts with a phone call from your mom. “Yang-hee invited us over for dinner tonight. Isn’t that nice?”

“Huh?”

“Dinner with Yang-hee and Yoongi,” she says, unbothered by your fake disinterest. “You’re coming too, obviously. It’s been years since we’ve all sat down together, and you know how Yang-hee is. She’s been so excited her son’s back.”

It’s not like you can say no, so you don’t.

Later that evening, you find yourself standing on the porch of the Min’s, a whole casserole of your mom’s homemade japchae in your hands.

It’s not the same house. It’s still built on the same street, but it’s completely renovated, extended, pimped the hell out. The spoils of Yoongi’s successful career are definitely visible in the way their mansion (I guess you can’t call it a bungalow anymore) stands proud.

Yoongi opens the wide wooden door, dressed in a festive green and red Christmas sweater and white pants. His orange hair is a little messy, and he greets you with that cocky little smirk as if he doesn’t have a goofy Santa Claus headband perched on top of this head.

“Hello, Mrs. Y/L/N.” he turns to your mom, who gives him her sweetest smile. She’s always really loved him.

“How have you been, Yoongi my dear?”

“I’m doing well. You’re looking even younger than when I last saw you.”

He’s so full of shit. But your mom is none the wiser as she breezes past you both with a giggle, already chatting animatedly with Yoongi’s mother, leaving you standing in the doorway with him.

“You came,” he says, finally taking the casserole from you.

“Of course I came,” you shoot back, trying to sound unaffected. “Consider this the dinner I owe you.”

He shakes his head, “Nice try.”

“Nice headband.”

“Hoseok not coming?” he asks a little too casually as he leads you to the kitchen.

“I didn’t know the invitation was extended to him.”

He shrugs. “I don’t think eomma will mind.” Then he pauses, looking at you with something unreadable in his eyes. “I–umm. It’s nice to have you here.”

It’s so simple and yet hits like a punch to the gut.

Dinner was sublime. The table is covered in a festive red cloth, tiny gold stars scattered across its surface. Platters of food crowd every inch—kimchi stew steaming in a clay pot, neatly sliced rolls of gimbap, and bowls of your eomma’s japchae glistening with sesame oil. A plate of sugar-dusted cookies sits at the center, shaped like Christmas trees and snowflakes. But the best part is that it feels like old times—full of laughter, familiar stories, and his mother fussing over both you and Yoongi. Your mom talks about the concert, and you catch Yoongi listening quietly, a faint smile playing at the edges of his lips. There’s something grounding about being here, the four of you around the table, like no time has passed at all.

After dinner, Yoongi’s mom insists on showing your mom something in the kitchen, leaving you alone with him.

“You still remember where my room is?” he asks behind his mug of eggnog.

“Please.” You push your chair backwards, standing up. “I practically lived here when we were kids.”

So his old room hasn’t changed much. Despite the makeover from outside, the expansion of the living room and dining areas, you guess Yoongi had asked his eomma to preserve this room like a little time capsule of sorts. The walls are still plastered with faded hip hop posters, plus an SNSD one that made you unreasonably jealous way back when.

You point to it with a laugh. “What was your favorite line from that song?”

“Listen, boy! My first love story!” he replies without missing a beat and you both erupt into giggles.

Your eyes dart around a bit more, and you find scribbles from years ago. On the far corner, your handwriting is etched faintly into the paint, and you feel a pang of nostalgia. You step closer, brushing your fingertips over your names and the date. It was the night of your first kiss.

Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, soft and steady. “Vandal.”

“You let me,” you try for casual, though your throat feels oddly tight at the memory. “I didn’t think you’d still have it here.”

He doesn’t answer, and you turn, glancing at the study desk and there’s the old notebook you gave him for his seventeenth birthday. The one you’d filled with doodles and little prompts, telling him to write music “so the world would hear it.”

“You kept this, too?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

Yoongi shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You gave it to me. Why wouldn’t I?”

Something about that makes your chest ache. You shake it off quickly, turning back to him with a small grin.

Later, the two of you end up on the porch, mugs of whisky-spiked eggnog between you, your breath clouding the cold air. You’re both a little tipsy, maybe drunk even, the edges of this nostalgic night already fuzzy around the edges.

You tilt your head toward him. “Yoongi-yah… you got a girlfriend back home?”

Yoongi glances at you, one eyebrow raised. “No.”

You’re surprised by the sharp flicker of relief in your chest. You try to play it off, swirling the cup in your hands. “Oh? Why not?”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment too long, before he finally says, “Because the girl I wanted didn’t wait for me.”

Your breath catches as he looks straight into your soul. You pull your sweater tighter against your frame. “Yoongi. You can’t say shit like that,” you admonish him, but your voice doesn’t sound as strong as you want it to.

He says nothing, just watches you with that quiet intensity that always intrigued you. Then, slowly, he tips his chin upward.

You follow his gaze, your stomach dropping when you see it: a sprig of mistletoe dangling above you, its leaves swaying gently in the breeze. He knows it’s there—hell, he may have been the one to hang it.

Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. Why would he even—

Yoongi grins faintly, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lean closer, doesn’t close the gap. He just lets the moment hang there, full of unsaid words and unanswered questions.

“What am I going to do with you…” you shake your head, admonishing him again.

“Honestly, anything you want…” He shrugs, his smirk softening into something else. “Goodnight,” he says quietly, standing up and stepping back inside the house, leaving you sitting on the porch with your thoughts spinning and your heart completely out of control.

That night, you lie in bed staring at your phone, your interactions looping in your mind.

You don’t know what you’re doing when you pull up Hoseok’s contact, but the text you send is short and simple:

You: Can we talk?

It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to call back. You swipe to answer it.

“You finally breaking up with me?” he asks with a giggle.

You groan, “Stop.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s been fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Best I’ve ever had.”

“Aw, quit the bullshit.”

“It’s true!” he claims, laughing slightly. “Tell him if he doesn’t take care of you, I can literally throw his ass in the slammer. Make up some compounded traffic violation or whatever...”

You can’t help but laugh, even as your stomach twists uncomfortably.

“You’re insane,” you tell him, but you know Hoseok’s words will stay with you.

Because now you’re left with no more distractions. No more easy answers. Just the weight of Yoongi’s return and the question you’re not ready to ask yourself: what if this is finally your time?

You don’t see it happen, not all at once.

There’s no single moment where you look at Min Yoongi and realize you’re slipping back into something that feels alarmingly like love—just tiny, inconsequential moments strung together like fairy lights on the cultural center’s drafty ceiling.

Yoongi spending hours at the piano, fingers moving effortlessly over the keys as the children’s choir sings, while you sneak glances at him.

Yoongi, elbow-deep in sheet music, his sleeves pushed up, hair falling into his eyes as he concentrates.

Yoongi joking around with the maknaes like they’ve known each other all their lives.

Yoongi handing you an americano every afternoon like clockwork, his only explanation being, “You’re too grumpy without caffeine.”

It’s nothing, really. Nothing you can’t brush off.

Except when the three stooges notice and start taunting you relentlessly.

“The maknaes won’t stop teasing me,” you tell him one afternoon, watching as he scribbles something onto his notebook. “Jungkook especially.”

Yoongi doesn’t look up. “About what?”

“About you,” you say, huffing dramatically, though your heart thuds a little at admitting it out loud. “They think you—”

Now Yoongi glances up, dark eyes fixing on you. “I what?”

You wave a hand vaguely. “You look at me.”

Yoongi blinks, clearly holding back a smirk. “I look at you?”

“They make it sound like you’re composing an epic romance ballad in your head every time you glance my way,” you say, curious to see how he’d react.

“Hmm.” Yoongi taps his pen against his notebook. His gaze doesn’t waver. “And what if I am?”

You freeze, caught entirely off guard. “You’re not.”

He shrugs lightly, looking back at his notes. “If you say so.”

And just like that, the conversation ends, but you’re left staring at the back of his head like an idiot.

You’re closing up the center after a particularly grueling rehearsal when you hear a voice in the piano room. It's Yoongi.

You pause just outside the door, catching the tail end of his conversation. His voice is low, clipped. “I already told you—it’s not that simple. Just… hold off until I figure it out, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then he sighs, frustrated. “Yes. I’ll take care of it. Don’t contact them directly.”

Before you can process the tone of his voice, he spots you in the doorway and quickly ends the call, stuffing his phone into his pocket. “Everything okay?” he asks, his expression neutral. But something in his eyes feels off.

“Hey,” you say finally, stepping into the room. “You hungry?” The words are out before you can stop them.

“A little.”

“I still owe you dinner,” you remind him. “You want to come over?”

For a moment, Yoongi just looks at you, his expression unreadable. Then he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

At your place, you keep it simple. You’re too tired for anything elaborate, so you throw together a few bowls of rice, leftover stew, wagyu cubes you tossed in a pan, and whatever banchan you can find in your fridge. Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind—he sits at your table with his sleeves rolled up, his beer bottle half-empty, watching you with a faint smile as you fuss over the food, refilling his plate once in a while.

“You don’t have to do all that,” he says. “It’s just me.”

“Don’t get spoiled,” you shoot back, setting a bowl in front of him. “This is a one-time thing.”

“Okay. I’ll take it.”

Dinner feels like something you’ve once yearned for especially during the first few years after he left. You talk about little things—how rehearsals are going, Shelby’s stubborn refusal to follow him anywhere, the little quirks of your team. Yoongi listens more than he talks, but when he speaks, it’s thoughtful, like he’s been holding the words in until they’re worth saying.

At some point, you find yourself finally telling him about the lie you blurted out the day he showed up.

“So you remember when I told you my boyfriend was a cop?” you say, poking at your rice with your chopsticks.

Yoongi’s lips twitch. “Yeah.”

“Well…” You hesitate. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Why? Didn’t realize you were dating Hoseok.”

“I’m not!” you say quickly. “I mean… Hoseok and I are… friends. But he’s not my boyfriend.”

“What’s with the pause?”

Your cheeks are on fire. You should have just kept it smooth, but your poker face is crap.

“Oooh Hoseok-ie, huh?” Yoongi’s expression is full of mischief, with a playful tone as he teases you.

You groan, covering your face. “We just, like to keep each other company, sometimes. But not anymore. It’s over. So over.”

His eyes narrow on you, a smirk on his lips. “Okay.” He says.

You glance up, flustered. “Okay?”

To your surprise, he doesn’t push further. Instead, he studies you for a long moment, his smile softening. “I’m glad you’re not with Hoseok,” he says simply.

The words hit harder than they should. You look down at your bowl, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest.

The night you hit your first funding goal feels electric. Outside, the snow falls softly, blanketing the world in white, while the glow of Christmas lights spills through the frosted windows of the cultural center. Inside, the air hums with celebration, the kind of unrestrained joy that feels almost too big for the room.

The office is a whirlwind of holiday chaos. Jimin’s sporting a Santa hat, twirling like a figure skater in the middle of the room. Taehyung is wrapped in tinsel like a human Christmas tree, tossing candy canes to whoever will catch them. “All I Want for Christmas Is You” blares from the speakers, almost drowned out by the sound of laughter echoing through the halls. The air smells faintly of peppermint, hot chocolate, and the faint spice of cinnamon—Taehyung’s candy stash has clearly been raided, by Jungkook.

You check your laptop one last time, and there it is: the donation total, glaring on the screen like a miracle. The sight makes your stomach flip in disbelief and relief.

“Do you know what this means?” you yell, spinning in circles as Jimin grabs your hand and cheers beside you. “We might actually do this. We might actually save the center!”

“FUCK CAPITALISM!” Taehyung hollers from the corner, pumping his fist in the air, and you can’t help but laugh.

“We’re halfway there!” you add breathlessly, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “This is insane.”

Jungkook whoops in victory, charging across the room and tackling you and Jimin into a clumsy, giggling group hug.

Amidst the chaos, your gaze drifts toward the far end of the room. Yoongi stands by the piano, arms crossed as he leans against it, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. He doesn’t say a word, but the way his eyes meet yours sends warmth spreading through your chest, as if he’s silently celebrating right along with you.

“Be right back,” you say, slipping away from the others before you can think better of it.

Yoongi doesn’t move as you approach, but his smile lingers. “You’re happy.”

“Of course I’m happy,” you say, unable to keep the grin off your face. “We might actually do this, Yoongi.”

“I always believed in you,” he replies softly.

Before you know what you’re doing, you close the gap between you and throw your arms around him. “This is amazing!”

Yoongi lets out a startled huff of air as you collide into him, his hands instinctively finding your waist to steady you. “Careful,” he says.

Except, suddenly, you’re both off balance, and the next thing you know, you’re falling—collapsing together in an awkward heap on the office floor.

“Oh my God,” you groan, sprawled half on top of him. “Are you okay?”

Yoongi blinks up at you, his expression caught somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Fuuuuuck. My back.”

“I’m sorry–shit!” You scramble to sit up, but his hands tighten gently at your waist, holding you in place.

“Don’t move,” he says softly, eyes just opening from a grimace.

Your breath catches. The laughter dies in your throat as you realize how close you are—close enough to see the faint flush at the tips of his ears, the way his dark feline eyes are fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“Yoongi…”

You don’t know what you’re going to say, but you don’t get the chance to figure it out. Because suddenly, he leans up, closing the distance, and kisses you.

It’s a simple peck at first—chaste, like he’s testing if you’d retreat. But you don’t.

He catches the pout on your lips and smirks. This time, he fixes his grip on your waist, rolls you onto your back, positioning himself above you.

Before you can react, his lips are on yours again, slotting against your plush seamlessly like it belongs there. You kiss him back, of course you do, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as the world narrows to just this—him and you.

You don’t exactly remember the feeling when you kissed for the first time in the snow-covered streets or the second in your childhood bedroom, but this third time...

It’s a feeling you don’t want to end—

But, out of nowhere, you hear unmistakable sounds of whoops and hollers and when you peel your eyes open, confetti rains down on both of you.

“What the—” you gasp, jerking back as colored paper sticks to your hair and shoulders.

Above you, the maknaes are causing a ruckus, Jungkook clutching an actual pail (like where did that even come from?), while Jimin looks dramatically at the two of you on the floor, wiping pretend tears.

Suddenly, piano music is added to the mix as Taehyung plays some Christmassy tune you can’t remember the title of because there’s just so much shit happening all at once.

You glare at them. “Yah! Get out of here! You’re ruining the moment!”

But they’re not listening, clearly high off the adrenaline from the funding milestone, but also might just be high in general, because they’re already breaking into exaggerated oohs and ahhs, chanting, “Hyung and noona sitting in a tree—”

Yoongi, to his credit, hasn’t moved. He’s still on the floor, his face redder than the poinsettias decorating the cultural center, but his eyes are locked on you. He’s embarrassed—mortified, even—but there’s a quiet determination in the way he looks at you, like nothing could shake him now.

“Jungkook-ah, Jimin-ah, Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi roll calls, his voice low but firm.

The maknaes pause, mid-tease, blinking at him.

“Leave.”

Jimin smirks, nudging Jungkook. “Should we?”

Jungkook shrugs dramatically. “I mean, they’re not even getting up…”

Taehyung’s head appears between the two, his arms resting on each of their shoulders. “I think–”

You point toward the door, scowling. “GO.”

With one last round of laughter, they finally fuck off.

The silence settles quickly after they’re gone, and for a moment, all you can hear is the sound of your own breathing. You glance back at Yoongi, honestly not knowing what to expect.

He’s gnawing at his lip. You reach up and touch your finger on his mouth, shaking your head so he releases his plush that’s gone red from his teeth pulling on the skin.

Finally, he speaks: “Go out with me.”

Your heart stutters, the words catching you off guard. “What?”

“You heard me,” he tilts his head. “Say yes.”

You stare at him, your pulse thrumming wildly, and there’s only one correct answer to give.

“Yes,” you whisper, your lips curving into a shy smile. “Okay.”

Yoongi exhales, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and you can’t help but notice the faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Well,” you say, brushing confetti off his sweater, “The maknaes were right after all.”

“Don’t even give those fuckers any credit right now.” He chuckles softly, his hand slipping into yours. “They’re lucky I didn’t throw that pail at them.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit there on the confetti-strewn floor, your hands intertwined, and it feels like this is your second chance to get it right after everything that fell apart before.

Your Christmas encore.

A/N: Happy holidays, Yoongi's ho ho hos! How did we like this first part???

Coming in Part 2: - Why did Yoongi really come back to town? - Is Hoseok as nonchalant about calling off the arrangement as he seems?

We’ll find out soon!!! See you in the comments.

As always, thank you for reading this, you lovely, beautiful human xo Comments and Reblogs are always loved and appreciated. 🙂

Permanent Taglist (Part 1):

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

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norrisainz33 · 3 hours ago

Text

big news || cs55

☆ summary: carlos and his long term partner have a big announcement

☆ pairing: carlos sainz x wife!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none and pregnancy and poorly translated spanish

☆ requested: yes!! thank you anon 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

carlossainz55 has made a post

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, ynsainz, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe, and 763,928 others

carlossainz55: over the weekend i got to make the most perfect woman in the world my wife. y/n - i love you more than words could ever describe and i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. te amo mucho ❤️

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user1: violently sobbing

alex_albon: a beautiful weekend celebrating an incredible couple

lilymhe: thank you for letting us be part of your big day 🤍

carlossainz55: gracias por todo ❤️

ynsainz: i’m so glad you both were able to make it!!

user2: lando being one of the groomsmen has me sick. carlando i love you

landonorris: i’m so glad my mom and dad finally tied the knot

carlossainz55: and im glad you were able to be with us

landonorris: eres lago

ynsainz: love you dearly muppet 😘

ynsainz: my husband 🤍 you are so dear to me

carlossainz55: my wife 😍

user3: happy for you guys (i’m gonna lay in the road)

williamsracing: congratulations mr and mrs chili 💙

carlossainz55: 💙🌶️

user4: this is MY royal wedding

ynsainz has made a post

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ynsainz: the most perfect honeymoon with the most perfect husband

view all 493 comments

user2: this called me single and BROKE in so many different languages

landonorris: my favorite people in the world

ynsainz: my sweet little landy boy 😘

maxverstappen1: congratulations you two ❤️

ynsainz: thank you maxie 🤍

carlossainz55: gracias max

user12: i want this

alexandrasaintmleux: hope you had a magical time 🤍

ynsainz: we did!! i miss you tho, we must hang out soon 🫶🏻

user23: i love love so very much

carlossainz55: mi amor 😘

ynsainz: mi marido [my husband] 😍

user43: you two are so important to me

ynsainz has posted to their story

view all story replies

user2: FAMILY OKG 😭😭😭😭

landonorris: my hair looks a mess here why did you post this one

ynsainz: it looked like this in all the pics babes

landonorris: 😔

user3: the sainz’s are so handsome it’s crazy

carlossainz55: carlandoooo

ynsainz: sometimes i worry you like him more than me

carlossainz55: hahaha no mi princessa. i couldn’t love anyone more than you

lilymhe: my little golfer 🥹

ynsainz: thank you for the lessons my love

user5: lando being part of the family is everything

user12: just waiting til you guys expand the family 🫣

ynsainz has posted to their private story

view all story replies

landonorris: what did you make???

ynsainz: a bun!

landonorris: a bun????????? what???

ynsainz: yeah i put a bun in the oven

landonorris: i’m incredibly confused how this was the best dinner you’ve ever had

ynsainz: it’s ok lando! you’ll find out when you’re older

landonorris: wait i just googled that…….. are you insinuating what google says you are?

ynsainz: i am 🤍

landonorris: YAYYYYYYYYY OMG!!!!!! MY BESTIES ARE HAVING A BABY

ynsainz: please don’t tell anyone yet. ok?

landonorris: my lips are sealed

lilymhe: HOW DID IT GO

ynsainz: you were right lils. i’ve never seen him so excited in all the years we’ve been together. he cried and cried and it was the best reaction i could’ve hoped for

lilymhe: i’m so glad to hear it. you two are going to be the best parents 🤍

ynsainz: thank you 🥹 and you’re going to be the best auntie

lilymhe: i simply can’t wait

carlossainz55: only thing that tops this is the day you said yes to being my wife ❤️

ynsainz: carlos 😭😭😭

carlossainz55: it’s true my love. having a family with y is something ive been dreaming of for years

ynsainz: me as well carlos ❤️

yourbff: i’m so happy for you my gorgeous bestie

ynsainz: thank you my perfect bestie

charlesleclerc: how were the burgers ?

ynsainz: wonderful mon ami

alexandrasaintmleux: tell me what’s up immediately

ynsainz: i’ll tell you at breakfast tomorrow 😘

carlossainz55 has made a post

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carlossainz55: we’ve been keeping a secret. can’t wait to meet you in a few months little baby sainz 🤍🌶️

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user1: THIS IS THE BEST NEWS EVER

ynsainz: see you soon baby sainz ❤️

carlossainz55: mommy and daddy can’t wait to meet you 💙

user3: my favorite couple are gonna be parents i’m sobbing

williamsracing: congratulations 🌶️

landonorris: i can’t wait to be an uncle 😘

carlossainz55: i look forward to your promotion to uncle lando

user81: i love carlando so much im

user8: carlos kissing the pictures has me in tears

alexandrasaintmleux: my favorite people in the whole wide world are going to be parents 🤍

carlossainz55: 🥹❤️

charlesleclerc: congratulations my friends

carlossainz55: thank you charles 🫶🏻

user9: feeling very parasocial and crazy rn

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻 happy new year everyone! could not be more thankful for al the support from you this year ❤️

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

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celestialmoondragon · 3 days ago

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On Eurylochus in Epic: the Musical

Hey, guys! I've been struggling to put this together since Thunder Saga because the amount of Eurylochus hate I saw after that saga just really stuck in my craw. Now, to be clear, I'm not pointing fingers or saying it was everyone, and a lot of it tapered off so I think it was just a gut reaction after the Saga came out but I've always identified more with Eurylochus while everyone else seems to fall over Polites.

Not that I have a problem with Polites or anything. I just find the 'blindly optimistic sunshine character' to be rather irritatingly naive most of the time? Again, I identify with Eurylochus’s character & philosophy. I'm not trying to prove he’s better in any way. I've just been trying to put together something to articulate why I think Eury deserves more love.

So here is what I’ve been affectionately calling ‘The Eurylochus Apologist Post.’

Full Speed Ahead:

This song sets up the relationship between Ody, Eury & Poli. It's clear it's a dynamic they're used to: Eury & Poly providing seemingly opposing arguments and Ody finding a sensible middle ground between them. I've seen posts saying it's the Devil & Angel on Ody's shoulders but I don't like that argument because it assigns a moral value to their arguments that isn't there. I think the reason this has worked so far is because Ody sits between them, balancing their viewpoints as both pessimistic caution and blind optimism could be dangerous to their survival solely on their own.

Eury's argument for theft feels extreme, sure, but keep in mind these men just got out of a 10-year war. He's not arguing because he wants aggression or slaughter. Later songs show him going out of his way to avoid conflict enough that an argument could be made for his cowardice although I don't believe that to be the case. Here, he thinks a quick in-and-out is a safer, more cautious approach when dealing with the unknown residents of an unknown island.

I would argue that Poli's desire to openly trust strangers is a more unusual philosophy post-war. And maybe his blind optimism has helped the men keep their spirits up. (Everything's changed since Polites.) But Ody says 'No, let's give them a chance at a peaceful resolution.'

Both songs before this have shown us how tired of violence & death Ody is but some people read this as him agreeing wholesale with Poli's philosophy which is not the case as he's by far the most cautious of the two in Open Arms. It's only as a result of Poli's death that he tries to be kind to Polythemus, perhaps in honor of his friend. But also simply to spite Athena, who's been rather aggressively telling him he's wrong, and Ody is nothing if not a petty bitch.

Back to Eury tho.

Luck Runs Out:

Eury expresses his doubt after Poli's death. Yeah, they've worked together for at least 10 years and possibly grew up together, but the Polythemus incident is the first time that Ody's cleverness fails. The first time their crew actually dies as Ody's managed to keep them all safe the entire war. And their personal friend was the very first. He sees their mortality for possibly the first time.

He expresses this throughout Storm. He was CAUTIOUS in Full Speed Ahead, yeah, but the level of defeatism in Storm is extreme. And nearly right after, while he's still struggling, Ody wants to try his tricks on a GOD? There's no indication that he knows about Ody's personal relationship with Athena. All he could see is his friend being arrogant enough to stroll right up to a GOD like it's nothing right after they lost their best friend and several others to a monster. A God is a more dangerous opponent than a monster. (Don't you know how dangerous the gods are?)

So he tries to articulate his feelings and worries and what does Ody do? Dismisses them. Entirely. Or at least that's what it feels like to Eury. This is something he wasn't doing before. It's also here that we see Ody parrot Poli's philosophy. This is a huge out-of-character shift in their dynamic. Ody isn't playing the middle ground anymore, a mix between trust and caution, the best of both. He's now the other extreme and the dynamic doesn't work with only two points of the triangle.

Now, Eury isn't perfect. He definitely should have expressed his doubts in private where the crew couldn't hear them argue. And Ody does try to reassure him but it's coming from this place of ego & optimism. Eury feels like he doesn't get it. They're both talking at each other but not getting through. And to put the cherry on top, after Ody pulls him aside, all Eury hears is that his concerns don't matter. It isn't necessarily what Ody means. Ody, I think, just wants to caution him about making the crew doubt his leadership but, to Eury, Ody's words come across as 'I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing and you're just going to have to deal.' Which, again, is not how their dynamic works before. Ody fully hears him out in Full Speed Ahead and incorporates his advice into the final plan.

But he isn't doing that here. Eury's final okay is him giving up on trying to get through to Ody right now. Without other events, they might have had a chance to talk about it later and actually reconcile but neither of them are in a state to do so right now.

Keep Your Friends Close:

The captain comes back from an ill-advised talk with a GOD with a mysterious bag that he claims has to stay closed. The crew is agitated by the winions claiming its treasure and the harrowing events of the cave and storm. Remember, Eury's backing vocals are the crew. He speaks for them. While there might have been members who think Ody was lying about the contents, I don't think Eury opened the bag out of a sense of greed. There's been no indication that he's greedy at all. But the crew is growing increasingly agitated and the Captain is obsessing over the bag to the point that he stays awake for 9 days. That's weird. That's out of character.

People act like the wind bag reveal and his 'sudden' distrust came out of nowhere but the entire first half of the Storm Saga shows their relationship deteriorating. Should Eury have given him the benefit of the doubt considering their years of friendship a trust? Probably. I'm not saying Eury is perfect.

Maybe I'm assigning a thought process that isn't there, but if I were in that position? I'd be worried. Not just about the captain's judgment being impaired from lack of sleep but also there's no telling if the God told Ody the truth about the contents of the bag. I think Eury still trusts Ody but what if Ody's the one being tricked? The crew is agitated, his captain & friend is acting strange, they've got a mysterious bag with unknown contents...

Of course, he opened the bag.

One argument I've seen the most is that if he hadn't opened the bag, Poseidon wouldn't have caught them and the 557 men wouldn't have died before they got to Ithaca. Well, I would argue that there's no indication Poseidon couldn't get them on Ithaca even if they had made it, but that's not really relevant.

Eury has always, always been worried about the safety of the crew.

He just wanted to check. Be able to reassure the crew & make sure Ody was okay.

They. Did. Not. Know. He. Was. Chasing. Them.

While Ody does question the origin of the storm, (Is it nature or Divine or a blessing in disguise?), it's more idle speculation. That line exists more as a hint to the audience that something is afoot more than an indicator that Ody's figured out, out of nowhere with no context, that the god of the sea is hunting them. With the benefits of hindsight, we the audience know they wouldn't have died, but within the story, the characters didn't have any clue and I don't feel it's fair to blame Eury.

Puppeteer

Eury tries to fess up immediately. Eury tries to tell Ody his mistake as soon as possible but Ody is, once again, not in a state to hear him out. That isn't either of their faults at all but it does erode their relationship further. It's unclear if he's seeking absolvement, atonement, or just reassurance, but what is clear is that the guilt festers until he blurts it out at the absolute worst time in Scylla.

Eury gets a lot of flack for proposing they leave the men captured by Circe. Is it necessarily the morally correct choice to abandon their crew? No, and I won't say it is. But his decision is perfectly in line with his character.

(Look at all we've lost and all we've learned.

Every single cost is so much more than what we've earned.

Think about the men we have left before there's none.

Let's just cut our losses, you and I, and let's run.)

He's begging & pleading for Ody to not through them up against another foe they can't win against. He's saying 'look, we've lost nearly everyone. It's okay if we're cowards here because we won't have anything left if we fail again.'

Now this is somewhat speculative on my part, but If Eury was really a coward or really didn't care about Ody, he probably could have convinced the crew left on the ship to cut and run while Ody confronted Circe alone. All he would have to do is use the same argument he tried on Ody. I think the narrative decision to make Eury's backing instrument the crew tells us pretty clearly that they'll side with him. It's shown most obviously in Mutiny, of course, but it's first demonstrated in Luck Runs Out.

Different Beast

Eury is technically not in this song except for the fact that he is. Because Eury reflecting the crew works both ways. He is the crew & the crew is him. Now the crew, including him, are all on board with Ody's change. Eury wouldn't have left the sirens to chase them or attack others either. He thinks their viewpoints are aligned again, not the Ody has gotten to the opposite extreme of 'only I have to survive.' Not Ody realizes this either.

Scylla

This is were Eury breaks. He blurts out the truth that's been eating him alive at the worst moment. He thinks he's in a good place to confess and try to talk to Ody again because as far as he knows, they're just sailing through a dark cavern. He has no idea Scylla is there until they're attacked. Even when Ody instructs him to light torches, he probably thinks it's because it's dark.

And then she starts eating the crew Ody deliberately made her target. Whether Eury was one of the intended targets doesn't matter, in my opinion, as much as Eury realizes that Ody's new philosophy for survival doesn't include the crew.

I've seen speculation that Scylla has some sort of truth-compelling power but I believe it was terrible timing myself. The framing of Scylla leaves the audience speculating who she's talking to until it's revealed at the end that it's Ody. Her (breaking the bonds you have made) line comes after Eury's confession not because she's compelling the truth but because she knows what response Ody's gonna have. She knows him because only someone like her would brave her lair. (We're the same, you and I.)

Mutiny

This is by far the most complicated bit and I'm not going to pretend Eury isn't a bit of a hypocrite here. I think he would have made the same choice to sacrifice 6 men if it came down to it, since he was willing to leave some of them on Circe's Island, but I don't think Eury does. He thinks he's always made the most pragmatic, logical choices for the crew's overall survival. He sees Ody's compromised mental state in Luck Runs Out/Keep Your Friends Closer but he didn't necessarily see his own then or now.

So he rounds on Ody. Ody deliberately forced them onto a dangerous path that would see some of them dead without telling them the risks. Eury 'for the crew' lochus can't believe that after all the risks he's taken to save them all, Ody would suddenly decide they don't matter.

(If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame) is a line I've seen people use to argue Eury's hypocrisy but I've always interpreted it differently. He isn't saying 'You're the captain so everything that's happened is your fault,' he's saying 'If you want to keep secrets and throw your crew away, you can't blame them for fighting back.' I believe this to be the case because it comes after (You miss your wife so bad, you trade the lives of your own crew.)

Between the two is Ody's line (Don't make me fight you, brother, you know you'd have done the same) and, as I said earlier, I firmly believe Eury would have done the same in Ody's place. Or would have less of an issue if they crew were informed before and drew lots or something. But he can't see his own hypocrisy. Whereas Ody was too compromised to see Eury's POV in Luck Runs Out, Eury is now too compromised to see Ody's.

How do we know this?

Because Mutiny begins to mirror Luck Runs Out. The crew parrots Eury's lines, fully and completely taking his side and after Ody passes out and they get to Helios's Island, the lyrics constantly call back to Luck Runs Out although not precisely in the same order. For example:

Luck Runs Out:

Please don't tell me you're about to do what I think you'll do.

You've heard the legends of the island in the sky, this proves they're true

We're in the home of the wind god

We don't know for sure

How many floating islands have you seen before?

This is the home of the wind god.

And what's your plan?

I'm gonna climb to the top and ask 'em for a hand.

Mutiny:

Please don't tell me you're about to do what I think you'll do.

Ody, we're never gonna get to make it home

You know it's true

You don't know that's true

This is the home of the Sun God

But if you kill his cattle, who knows what he'll send?

This is the home of the Sun God

I'm tired, my friend

But we're so close to home, this can't be where it ends.

-----

This continues the entire second half of Mutiny but I’m honestly not a skilled enough musician to recognize every little motif and note. But the two songs feel very similar except that now Eury is the one that can’t hear what Ody is telling him. I hesitate to include this information because it’s not explicitly stated in the musical but the reason he kills the cow in the original is because either the starving crew will survive and can build a temple to Helios in Ithaca or the gods will kill them quickly. Not only would starving be a slow, painful death but it's not a glorious end for soldiers and warriors.

Regardless of whether you choose to include this information in his motivation, it’s clear he’s done. He’s shattered and broken and Ody’s reassurance is too little, too late. The crew is, in his mind, either going to starve to death or die trying to get home and he’s quickly realizing he doesn’t know which is better. He hates that the situation and his relationship with Ody has come to this. He’s no longer angry, just resigned and exhausted. He doesn’t know how to solve their problems and can’t trust that Ody cares enough to try either. So why does he fall back in line so easily when Ody orders the crew to flee?

Because, despite everything, he wants to trust his friend. He wants to go back to when it was the three of them and they trusted each other with no reservations. Which brings us to his last lines in Thunder Bringer.

Eury: Captain?

Ody: I have to see her.

Eury: But we’ll die.

Ody: I know.

I saw a lot of people getting particularly angry at this because he’d brought the wrath of Zeus down on them and is now begging Ody to sacrifice himself instead of the crew. But I don’t read it that way at all. We’ve heard him plead & beg. He pleads firstly Luck Runs Out and begs broken on his knees in Mutiny and this line doesn’t sound like either.

This is resignation.

Mutiny shows us that he’s already given up. He’s ready to die. He’s not begging for his life. The crew questions Ody, reprising the chorus of Just A Man the same way they did when they questioned his decision to kill the Infant. Because that’s what Eury’s asking.

Can you live with the fact you killed us?

Not because he wants to live for himself but because he wants to know if Ody can truly live with the choice he's already made in his heart. At the very end, he seeks reassurance that his last friend will be able to survive to make it home.

For all of them.

In conclusion, Eurylochus is a flawed but entirely human character with a very consistent internal logic throughout and he doesn't deserve to be painted as a conniving, fickle, cowardly friend to Ody because it's abundantly clear he loves the crew and his friend.

#epic the musical #eurylochus #eurylocus epic

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thargelalia · 16 hours ago

Text

Jason Todd headcanon alert 🚨

*taps mic, and clears throat*

Okay okay so, I’ve seen some people on here saying Jason probably uses 3 in 1 shampoo conditioner body wash, and I actually agree.

BUT as a latina I got somethings to say!

I won’t even address the comments I saw saying that he doesn’t shower regularly because that’s just insane btw. At least when it comes to the way I imagine him.

Obviously I try to make my reader as neutral as possible in terms of ethnicity and stuff but bitch I’m sure as hell incorporating our overall cultural aspect of always being clean and smelling like heaven alright lmao 💅✨

Smelling great has gotta be like one of the biggest aphrodisiacs in the world idc what anybody says. Being clean and smelling good is POWER babes!!!

That being said:

If Jason starts dating a girl like that, the minute she spots that product on his bathroom shelf, it’s 👏 going 👏 away 👏

He may protest at first, saying it’s practical, and that he’s been doing that for years etc, but the death glare he receives will shut him up completely.

Besides proper shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, I see him incorporating good smelling body lotion, and post-shave balm for example.

With time, he also sees your commitment with skincare (again, nothing too crazy), and gets convinced to adopt a 3 steps routine too (face wash, moisturizer, sunscreen). Ofc he’ll forget about it in the beginning and whenever he’s exhausted from patrol or his missions. But you’re always there to gently remind him or do it for him.

He also applies a thicker facial cream to his face on Winter, and relishes on the fact that his face stops cracking.

You might convince him to try on a face mask with you on a lazy Saturday night. It’s domestic and another way to bond as well.

Aside from abolishing the 3 in 1 horrid thing, you wouldn’t really push him into doing anything else. It’d be mere suggestions accompanied by an extra sweet smile.

Ultimately, Jason doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. Even if you insist. If it doesn’t make sense to him, he won’t do it.

However, he’s actually as open to listen to your ideas and opinions as you are to his.

And that’s how he gets convinced, and starts incorporating these things into his life.

His skin and hair actually look better, hence he feels better about himself too. It’s an act of self care. One he’s never actually had the luxury to have or think about.

Besides, he loves how wonderful you smell with sweetened and fresh scents, making him wanna bite you all over just to get a taste of the supple skin.

So why wouldn’t he want to mirror that as well? He sees that it’s worth it when you just can’t stop smelling him, praising him, and returning his bites with just as much eagerness. This man purrs alright!!!

And listen, he’s a manly man, but fortunately not one to have a fragile masculinity in any way. So this isn’t an issue for him.

You’re there to help him when he needs it, making sure he feels comfortable, and respecting his boundaries at all times <3

Overall, I just think as your relationship progressed you’ve incorporated and exchanged a lot of things between each other, and I’m excited to share some other examples in the near future.

thanks for reading this, and let me know your thoughts!

if you disagree feel free to do so in your head (just kiddin’!! maybe!) <3

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #jason todd conference #jason todd headcanon

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taurasiscntybun · 3 days ago

Text

Home for the Holidays

- DT x younger femme

- 18+ minors dni

-Fluff and Smut

-Warnings: Age gap, Mommy kinky, public sex, oral sex, strap on, praise kink, risky sex, breeding kink

-5.9k words (giving yall a long one to make up for lack of posting don’t yell at me)

- inspired by a h*rny idea dm from @taurasicomplex

“You have to behave Dee, I’m serious.” You sigh and turn in your seat to look at her. She hums in response and drums her long fingers on the steering wheel.

“You like it when I’m naughty though baby.” She teases and steals a glance at you at the red light.

“That may be true but my parents are already in a tizzy over the age difference; I don’t want to give them any more reason to dislike you.” You say with a sigh. Diana was closer to your parents age than yours and it had been the topic of plenty of heated family discussions. Now you were bringing her home for the holidays; meeting everyone at once.

“I know baby, I’m not gonna do anything I think will piss off your parents. I even wore this stupid ass sweater for you to show I’ve got Christmas spirit. But if they already hate me, what can I do?” She accelerates the car and you stare out the window again, not sure of a good answer. The twinkling lights of your ridiculous matching Christmas sweaters seeming to mock your intense thought. Diana had refused to wear the sweater at first; a giant rudolph with Christmas lights strung through his antlers, the Christmas lights that actually turned on.

“Well the good thing is. my cousins will be there and they’re all very excited I'm dating a professional basketball player, I’m sure they’d rather I be dating someone with an NBA salary, but whatever.” You joke, and Diana snorts a laugh.

“It’s not like you’re in need.” She raises an eyebrow and looks pointedly at your designer dress as you swat her arm.

“You bought me this for my birthday, you old witch!” You protest, but the laugh is evident in your voice.

“And you look fucking sexy in it; I should have made rules about when you can wear it. Although the giant reindeer covering your gorgeous tits is a bit of a bummer.” Diana groans, and you bite your lip. It isn’t a revealing dress but it certainly flatters your figure and shows off your legs. You’d made it even more modest by adding your sweater on top. Obviously you had to walk in looking the best; you hadn’t seen most of these people in a year. You probably already won bragging rights by dating a multi gold medalist, but it didn’t hurt to look the best too. The road opens up and Diana places her right hand on your thigh, not scandalously but as a casually intimate gesture; wanting to touch you as much as possible.

“People like you Dee, I’m sure they’ll warm up fast.” You cover her hand with your smaller one and turn to look out the window again.

“Everyone keeps staring at me.” Diana says through gritted teeth as she walks with you to the kitchen, a large stack of dishes in her hand.

“Well you’re the first girlfriend I’ve brought home, you’re significantly older, and you’re a professional athlete… there’s plenty of reasons for them to stare.” You answer in a resigned tone as you sit your pile of dishes in the sink.

“They could at least try to be normal.” She grumbles and scrapes her food into the trash before joining you at the sink.

“Well subtlety isn’t a family trait obviously.” You grab the sponge from the counter and squeeze dish soap on it.

“Your parents don’t have a dishwasher?” Diana asks in astonishment. You laugh and shake your head.

“They do, but it’s a shitty one so everything needs a bit of pre-wash. Personally I think that defeats the purpose, but mom is happy. It just means big meals like this are a pain.” You swipe the sponge over the first dish.

“If you hand me them I’ll load the dishwasher.” Diana offers, having spotted the old appliance. You nod and hand her the dish. You two continue in silent domesticity.

“Alright the washers full babe, we’ll just have to do another load” Her arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against her. You let out a quiet gasp and turn to look over your shoulder at her with a grin.

“Are you sure you know how to load a dishwasher? You’re a hazard in the kitchen usually.” You tease and spin around to face her. Diana’s hands quickly travel down to grope your ass through your dress.

“Not being able to help cook means I’ve cleaned up after plenty of meals, baby.” She leans forward slightly, forcing your back to arch against the sink.

“Well I’ll trust you then.” You concede, your tone breathier than you’d like. Diana squeezes your ass again and nuzzles her face in the crook of your neck.

“If you’d move in with me like I asked you’d know I can load a dishwasher.” She grumbles, her words muffled as she leaves open mouthed kisses up down the column of your neck.

“We…we’ll talk about that later, Dee, and this…” Your words trail off as Diana sucks lightly at your pulse point, her hands kneading your ass.

“Now we’ve gotten through dinner, are we allowed to leave? And we will talk about it later” Her words are gruff with impatience, the warmth of her breath ghosting across your neckline.

“N..not yet… we have the Christmas cake.” You stutter and grip the counter tighter, your breath growing shallow as her kisses move lower towards the collar of your sweater. Suddenly you hear voices approaching and you straighten up, Diana pulling away but keeping a hand on the small of your back.

“I think they’re gonna come looking for us, baby. Now tell me about this Christmas cake we have to be there for.” She gives your ass one last pat.

“Yeah I know, it’s a whole thing, basically there’s a coin somewhere in the cake and whoever gets that slice has luck for the year. So we all have to sit at the table and eat.” You explain and join the rest of your family in the dining room.

“That sounds fu-“ Diana is cut off by your mothers voice

“ ‘bout time you got back in here.” She calls, clearly a little annoyed at your delay.

“Sorry mom, but we loaded the dishwasher. And yes we cleaned them off first.” You placate and take your seat at the table, Diana next to you. She subtly scoots her chair a little closer to yours before sitting.

“Yes, well in your girlfriend's forty-two years you’d think she’d learn to load a dishwasher a little faster.” Your father mutters under his breath, clearly the most disapproving. You feel Diana’s hand on your thigh reassuringly. She’s told you the age comments don’t bother her much, but it bothered you. It didn’t matter how much older she was, you loved her and she cherished you like the most precious thing.

“I do keep telling you to get a new dishwasher.” You say out loud, calling him out for his comment.

“Oh well. It’s fine now, they’re here and we can cut the cake.” Your mother titters and brandishes a knife.

“Of course mom we’ll all be respectful at the table.” You shoot your father and other whispering family members looks. The cake had been your contribution to dinner, making sure the most fun aspect was vegan for Diana. The knife hovers over the cake as your mother glances at the table one more time before cutting; the spongy cake giving way immediately.

“The whole coin thing seems fun; what’s the success rate?” Diana teases and the table seems to take a breath of relief that she isn’t bothered by your fathers comments.

“Oh I don’t know, last year I got the coin, a couple weeks later I met you.” You answer before anyone else has a chance, turning to look at her.

“Your dad got it two years ago and had a promotion at work, so I’ll cross my fingers.” Your mom says and divvies out the small plates of cake to the table. Diana’s hand slips higher, her pinky teasing the hem of your dress.

“A good two years in a row? Maybe if I find it you’ll move in with me?” Diana asks, her voice barely audible as she leans over to whisper in your ear. You glance around the table at your odds.

“Fine.” You took yours and Diana’s plates from your mother, standing slightly to lean across the table. Diana uses the opportunity to slide her hand under your dress. The plates clatter down in front of you, rougher than you intended but the jolt of desire shooting through made your brain slow down.

“This is different from last year, did you use a new recipe, honey?” Your aunt calls from across the table, a fork full of cake paused at her mouth.

“Oh yeah, uh it’s a vegan cake so Dee can have some.” You state confidently and softly run your hand down her arm, the sleeves of the sweater pushed up to reveal her freckled skin. She squeezes your thigh in response, her pinky almost grazing the hem of your panties.

“Huh, I just think with family tradition..” your aunt starts but you cut her off.

“We’re still doing the whole tradition; I just made a cake that will include all of us.” You retort with an air of finality on the subject. Diana’s finger traces your panties as if rewarding you. She looks at you with warm eyes and gives you an appreciative smile.

“I’m glad to be included.” She says innocently her hand shifting so her ring finger circles your clit. You suck in a harsh breath and shoot her a glare. She ignores you; taking a bite of cake, her finger not stopping its maddening circle.

“D…Dee” you whisper and look up at her with wide eyes.

“Hmmm? Taste your cake baby, I wanna know if you got the coin.” She answers loudly, using her free hand to take another bite. You pick up your fork and take a moment to try and still your trembling hand. She smirks at you, middle finger moving to run up and down your clothed slit.

“Well I’m not the lucky one this year, and honey, the cake was great. I didn't even notice it being vegetarian or whatever.” Your dad proclaims and pushes his empty plate away.

“V..vegan” you correct and try to steady your breath. You know your skin must be flushing as your panties continue to dampen under her touch. Your dad makes a non-answer huffing noise and turns his attention to your uncle next to him. The rest of your family continues to talk, their voices and small laughs drowned out by the feeling of her nimble fingers against you, just a thin strip of fabric separating you.

“So what’s the plan for Christmas morning usually?” Diana asks and takes another bite of her cake. Her middle finger hooks in your underwear and she slowly pushes it to the side. You jump in your seat and paste on a smile as she finally touches your cunt.

“Honey, are you ok?” Your mother asks and looks at you concerned. You smile and quickly shovel more cake in your mouth.

“O..oh look I didn’t get the coin.” You say in a slightly high pitched tone. Diana teases your sensitive clit and you bite your lip.

“I got the coin!” Diana says happily and holds up the coin proudly, pulling her hand away from you like it was nothing. She subtly wipes her hand on her pants.

“Congratulations honey! I hope some of that luck rubs off.” Your mother looks from Diana to you and winks. Your brain stumbles to catch up as your pussy throbs for her touch.

“Oh my god! Yay Dee!” You compose yourself and lean over to hug her, deciding it was an appropriate amount of PDA. She grins happily and pats your arm around her lovingly.

The couch sinks under Diana’s weight and she immediately pulls you close to her. She takes a sip of her red wine before sitting it on the end table. After dinner everyone had either left for their hotel or had retired to the living room with a glass of wine. Since your parents were hosting, you and Diana would be staying in your childhood bedroom. Your family was nice enough to set her up a pallet of blankets on the floor to sleep on, of course in reality she would be squished in the full size bed with you.

“Yeah I’ve been to six Olympics.” Diana answers your cousin's question you didn’t hear, too focused on how your body feels on fire with need for her.

“That’s so cool, is it true there’s like anti-sex beds?” He leans forward in his chair, suddenly interested in your girlfriend.

“I googled you before you came, you’re pretty good at basketball.” Your dad tells her and reclines in his chair. Diana smiles politely at their words, used to this kind of questioning.

“Uh, yes they have cardboard beds, but I don’t know if the rumor is true they’re anti-sex beds, and thank you, I try.” Diana answers easily, her arm draped over your shoulder, fingers playing with the ends of your hair. You glance up at the clock on the wall hoping it was late enough that you could excuse yourself for bed. You needed a cold shower. As if reading your mind Diana drains the last of her wine and speaks.

“You know I’m pretty tired from the drive here, I hope you guys don’t mind if I head to bed early. Wanna be well rested for Christmas you know.” Diana says and stands from the couch. Obediently you stand up with her, your mother pauses her conversation and looks up at the clock.

“We’ll uh see you in the morning?” You smile and notice Diana already heading up the stairs, clearly not caring for approval.

“Oh…ok well, goodnight sweetie.” Your mom furrows her brows but no one else presses the subject as you follow Diana up the stairs. Out of sight Diana pushes you against the door to your room, her lips immediately finding yours in a frantic kiss.

“W..wait Diana we.. we can't, my whole family is down there.” You protest weakly and fumble behind you for the doorknob. Diana kisses up your neck, hand tangled in your hair.

“You’ll have to be quiet then baby, don’t want your mom to hear you call someone else mommy.” She whispers in your ear, her voice low and husky. Finally you find the knob and you stumble into your room. She quickly follows and closes the door behind her, twisting the lock. It doesn’t take much for you to give in; you wanted her, your body aching for her touch. She was right, you’d just have to be quiet. Diana walks you back against the bed.

“First, I’m taking off this fucking sweater.” She unceremoniously tugs the light up sweater over her head, balling it up and tossing it into her suitcase.

“Take your dress off baby.” She instructs, her tone hushed and starts to undo the buttons of her shirt. Quickly you rip off your sweater too and fumble behind you for the zipper of your dress. Your fingers trembled with excitement.

“Too slow” Diana softly chides and reaches behind you to drag the cool metal zipper down your skin. You tug the dress off as she sits her shirt to the side and unbuckles her dark jeans.

“I don’t know if you’re going to be mad or excited..” Diana speaks softly and bends over her suitcase, digging around a moment before pulling out a… familiar sight.

“You brought the fucking strap to my family Christmas?!” You whisper yell and she raises her hands placatingly, the object in question still in one of her hands.

“Baby, I think it’s gonna come in handy, don’t you?” She asks and starts to pull her jeans down. “Come in handy so you don’t have to cum from a handy.” She jokes, clearly proud of her wordplay and you snort a laugh.

“We can’t make noise Dee.” You warn softly, but don’t say no. Diana gives you a wild grin and steps out of her jeans and boxers, walking back to you on the bed in a few quick strides.

“Th..the headboard” You whisper worriedly and glance over at the wooden headboard.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m not gonna move an inch. I’m gonna lay on the bed, and you're gonna ride mommy’s cock.” She hooks the harness in place around her hips as she speaks softly. Diana pushes you back onto the bed, her taller frame covering yours as she trails kisses down your neck and collarbone.

“Take everything off.” She whispers in your ear, her voice laced with her own need. You nod quickly and unhook your bra, and Diana pulls it off you, same with your damp panties.

“Fuck baby, I’ve been thinking about this all day.” She groans and sucks one of your nipples into her mouth eliciting a moan from you. One hand braces herself on the bed and the other grips your inner thigh as she speaks. You arch your back, pressing your chest more into her.

“It was so sexy seeing you stand up for me, I think you deserve a reward.” She says against your skin, swapping to lavish your other nipple with attention. Her tongue circling the sensitive flesh before sucking it into her mouth.

“Diana… mommy please.” You moan and writhe under her.

“Shhh baby, you don’t want anyone to hear do you?” Her fingers run down your slit and she gently presses her middle finger into your wet pussy. You bite your lip, stifling a moan.

“Gotta test how wet you are for me.” Diana’s voice is soft as she thrusts her finger maddeningly slow.

“M..more please” You whisper and she chuckles, adding her index finger and scissoring them open.

“Fuck” You whimper quietly at the delicious stretch.

“You’re so tight baby, gotta get you ready.” She groans in response, flicking her tongue over your nipple. Diana moves her thumb to your clit, her fingers moving at an achingly slow speed.

“Please.” You beg softly and she grins against your breast. She speeds up her thrusts, curling her fingers inside to tease your most sensitive areas. Diana kisses and sucks from your breasts to your mouth, kissing you passionately, her breathing almost as ragged as yours.

“M..more, mommy” You whisper, your voice strained with whiny need as you break the kiss.

“You want my cock baby? Ask again properly.” Diana half growls, her voice a deep whisper as she pulls her fingers from your wet cunt. She sucks her fingers into her mouth, cleaning your arousal off them.

“Please mommy, I..I need your cock…please” you whine softly and she nods.

“Good girl” Diana rolls off you and pushes herself into the middle of the bed, her back against the headboard, thick dildo jutting up from her hips.

“Come let mommy fill you up baby.” She pulls you toward her and you obediently straddle her hips, her big hands holding your waist and stopping you from sitting.

“Remember you have to be quiet or mommy will have to stop.” She warns and slowly guides you down onto her cock. Diana watches in rapt attention as the dildo pushes into your wet heat. You bite your lip to stop from crying out as you fully seat yourself in her lap; your pussy stretched full.

“Shhhh just like that babygirl, such a good girl.” Diana whispers and reaches for the small remote she’d tossed on the bed. Clicking a button a small vibration starts against both of you. Diana stifles her own moan and starts to guide you up and down her cock.

“So fucking pretty.” She groans softly and pulls you towards her a bit. Diana brings her lips to yours hungrily, half to taste you and half to quiet both your noises. She uses your slightly shifted hips to her advantage and thrusts up into you slowly; meeting your downward movements with her own in a sensual rhythm. One of Diana’s hands wanders from your waist to your abdomen, and pulls you down so she’s fully seated inside you, and then pushes on your belly.

“You feel how good I fill you up baby? Your pussy is mine.” Diana whispers against your lips before thrusting her tongue back in your mouth. You let out a low whimper, your body tightening with your impending orgasm. The combination of the slow thrusts and vibrations making the pleasure build quickly.

”Cl..close” You whisper into her mouth, your body trembling. You feel her lips curl into a smile, her own breathing coming out in short pants.

“Good.. good, fuck, so good baby. I’m close too” She says in a breathy tone, her thrusts growing more erratic as she approaches her orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill up this pretty pussy so full baby” She groans and you slide down her cock one last time; your pussy spasming around her as your orgasm slams through you. You open your mouth in a silent sob as she starts to move you up and down again, chasing her own high.

“I’m so close baby, fuck you’re such a good girl for me baby, I can’t wait until we finally get home after new years and I can fuck you into the mattress.” Diana speaks through gritted teeth, clearly trying to control her noise. You cover your mouth with one hand, not trusting yourself to keep silent, the only sound in the room is your shared pants, quiet moans and the subtle squeak of the bed.

“Fuck! So good for mommy; I’m gonna fill you up so good, fuck, so breedable for me, a perfect little cumslut. Fuck you’re so good, take me so good” Diana groans, her words hardly making sense as she babbles in pleasure, her body stiffening then shuddering under you as she climaxes. After a long while of breathing in unison, she helps you roll off her, your cum dripping out as you do. She pitches forward, collapsing on your chest then rolling over and pulling you into her arms; both of you slick with a light sheen of sweat. Diana smiles up at you, a genuine grin showing her dimple.

“I don’t think I want to be done with you yet baby, you’ve been so good and quiet for me, can you go a little longer?” She mumbles, and buries her head in the valley between your breasts.

“C..clean up?” You whisper back and pull her head away to look at her in question.

“I’m going lay back, and you’re going on all fours, I’m going to eat your sweet cunt while you clean me up too.” Your eyes flutter shut as you picture it.

“Oh fuck, Diana.” You whimper softly, and she lays on her back, lifting her head to grin at you.

“Come here.” Diana says in a soft but demanding tone. You obey immediately, turning and climbing over her, backing until your hips hover over her eager face, your own above her cunt.

“You have the prettiest pussy” She groans quietly and blows a breath on your sensitive folds. Your legs wobble and you sink your head between her open thighs to stabilize yourself. Diana follows your actions, burying her face in your cunt, sucking hungrily at your dripping entrance. Her strong hands hold you open as she devours you. Wanting to match her hunger you thrust your tongue in her core, twisting and curling to tease her inner walls. Her hips buck to meet your face and she moans against your cunt. Both of you were already sensitive from your orgasms, and it wouldn’t take much to send either of you over the edge. You brace your hands on her strong thighs, keeping her legs pushed open. Changing to sucking you move up her folds to her clit, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves into your mouth and flicking your tongue.

“I’m not gonna last much longer baby.” She rasps, lapping at your core, her hips grind against your face as her orgasm approaches. You continue your gentle sucking and lapping at her, wanting to send her over the edge but not make her over sensitive. Diana seems to have no issue with making you cum to the point of pain, her mouth and tongue moving furiously, all the way from your clit to your sensitive asshole.

“Oh my fucking god, oh fuck mommy I’m cumming. I’m cumming.” You start to cry out but stifle your moans in her pussy, suckling at her core as she arches off the bed under you, her pussy spasming around your tongue as you continue to lap at her, cleaning her up once more. Your own core throbbing as you cum, your body trembling above. Diana mirrors your actions, licking your cunt clean once more before pulling away.

“E..enough baby, come here.” She says, her voice gruff from her release. You swing your leg over her and turn around, the whole process slightly awkward as your body recovers from your back to back orgasms. As soon as you’re close enough, Diana gathers you in her arms; pressing a kiss in your hair as she holds you against her chest.

“You’re so fucking amazing baby” She says in a sleepy tone, and you wiggle to pull the covers over both of you.

“You’re so fucking amazing too” You reply in an equally sleepy tone. Diana pulls away and tugs her sports bra over her head, finally completely naked. Immediately you shove your head between her tits, kissing roughly at the slightly sweaty skin. She inhales sharply as you do.

“Such a greedy little thing, now go to bed baby; don’t wanna end up on the naughty list on Christmas Eve.” Diana teases and nuzzles her face in your hair. You fall asleep like that, listening to the steady beat of her heart, her breath ghosting across your skin.

“I don’t understand why we had to stay with your family until New Years” Diana mutters turning to look down at you as she snacked on yet another plain cracker. Your family had tried to include her, deciding after a while that they did like her despite the age gap. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to know the difference between vegan and vegetarian; proudly showing the meatless charcuterie board before the party, of course it was still covered in cheese and honey. You started to explain, but Diana had stopped you, thanking your father for being so thoughtful. It filled you with joy to see Diana put in so much effort for your family; you were used to her not giving a fuck what people thought so it was both endearing and a bit jarring to see her try so hard.

“Well mom misses me, I’m her baby girl and dad loves having the family all under one roof even if he doesn’t show it.” You say and heap cheese onto your own hors d’oeuvres plate. She was right, it had been a long week, while you loved your family it was a difficult dynamic. They treated you like the kid coming home for the holidays, meanwhile they treated Diana as a peer. It shouldn’t bother you, you were their kid, of course they were still going to treat you like a child. Still you couldn’t wait until New Year’s Day when you and Diana could finally leave and start the drive back to Phoenix.

“If your cousin starts listing NBA players and asking if I could beat them again I think I’m going to cuss someone out.” She complains and takes a long sip of her Cabernet.

“He, uh, means well? I think he just doesn’t know anything about women’s basketball and is trying to talk to you.” You pick up a cracker, stacking a slice of cheese on top then dipping it into the honey.

“The charcuterie board was a nice gesture, I’ll, uh, explain later the difference between vegetarian and vegan later.”

“I mean, the thought would count a lot more if there were more things for me to actually eat.” Diana bends down to whisper in your ear, her tone a half teasing grumble.

“I swear to god, your mother even put butter on the fucking vegetables.”

“Duh, how else would you make them good? I know you’re limited, but I made the candied yams, mashed potatoes and sugar cookies for you; but I uh, didn’t tell anyone I changed the recipes to be vegan.” You pop the cheese covered cracker into your mouth and she raises her eyebrows.

“When did you do that?” Diana asks, sipping her wine.

“While you were being forced to play basketball with all the men today.” You say, rolling your eyes; of course your family members had gone home and googled Diana, returning for new years celebration with a host of new questions and of course bringing basketballs. She’d spent the better part of today trying to fix your little cousin's jump shot.

“God that was exhausting, I’d rather run laps” She mutters and finishes her wine, sitting it the empty glass back on the kitchen counter.

“So now we’ve done the polite snacking with your close family; we have to have an actual New Year’s party with who?”

“Well uh with everyone else so all the relatives and friends; that’s when we’ll have the real food.” You glance up at the clock.“About an hour before everyone arrives, I should go get ready.” You motion down to your casual jeans and flannel. Then to her sweatpants and tee shirt.

“I guess you want me to change too?” Diana groans and straightens from her lean against the counter.

“If you could wear a nice button down and trousers maybe? I’m going to wear the black sweater dress I got the other day.” You say before shoving the last of your cheese cracker in your mouth. Diana grabs your empty plate and her wine glass and places them in the sink.

“Fine, fine. I think I have a white shirt I can wear.” She complains, and follows you up the stairs to your room.

“Quit acting like no ones ever done your makeup before.” You scold and grip Diana’s head in one of your hands, turning her back to face you.

“Yes I have, I’ve been having my makeup done since before you were even born babygirl, but no one was this fucking rough!” She complains and you roll your eyes, shifting in her lap a little, her hands come up to rest on your waist, stroking absent circles with her thumbs.

“I could have done my own makeup you know, I am capable of concealer and mascara.” She teases and you huff.

“I wanted to try winged eyeliner on you but every time I get the pen even near your eye you flinch like I’m holding a knife!” You grip the top of her head and use your finger to pull her eyebrow up.

“Yeah all the pros do it just like this.” Diana snorts and you smack the top of her head gently.

“Be still, I'm concentrating; and stop. talking.” You chide and start to draw a small wing with your eyeliner. She sighs but doesn’t move. Satisfied with the first eye you sit back and look at her.

“Fuck Dee, you look incredible.” You say reverently, and she grins, batting her lashes at her teasingly.

“I feel like the eyeliner is probably getting lost in my crows feet” She tries to turn and look in the desk mirror but you stop her.

“Oh hush, and close your eyes, I need to do the other one.” You repeat your actions, giving her nearly perfect small wings and tight lining her eyes, making their caramel hue pop. You kiss her nose, leaning forward and she wrinkles it.

“You look beautiful.” You whisper in her ear and kiss right below her ear. Diana shivers and squeezes your waist.

“Stop teasing baby, you know I don’t have enough time to fuck you before the party… and.. thank you.” She responds and shifts in her seat to get up, helping you crawl off her. Diana takes mascara out of a tiny makeup bag and crouches to look in the small desk mirror, pausing a moment when she sees her eyes.

“The eyeliner is nice, baby” She somewhat roughly drags the mascara wand through her lashes, miraculously getting none on her skin. You squish in next to her to apply your lipstick, a red lip stain that was supposedly everything proof. Diana pulls away and looks you up and down, red heels and a black sparkly dress, the picture of New Year’s Eve. She matched you in a black button down and black slacks, paired with some ‘classy’ Nikes. You blushed under her rapt gaze and she smiled before holding a hand out to you. Taking it, the two of you walk down the stairs to meet with the rest of your family for a late dinner.

You rested your head on Diana’s shoulder, the champagne causing a fuzzy feeling in your brain as you watched the countdown on the TV. Two minutes until midnight. You pick your head up and look at her.

“Come on the deck with me real quick, I want to talk to you about something.” You say in a hushed tone; Diana knits her eyebrows in puzzlement but stands up after you. She slides the deck door closed before speaking.

“What’s up? What’s wrong?” She asks and takes a step closer to you, her hands resting on your forearms as she looks down at you.

“Nothings wrong Dee, if.. if you remember a few days ago you said if you found the coin in your cake I had to move in with you?” You say and look up at her; her brown eyes search yours before speaking.

“I wasn’t really going to make you if you’re so against it.” Her words are soft, her vulnerability peaking through.

“No, no.”

“Damn you could be nicer about it.”

“No, I mean yes.”

“Are you moving in with me or not?” Diana finally clarifies.

“That’s what I’m trying to say; yes, I want to move in with you. I can figure out breaking my lease when we get back” Diana pulls you into her arms happily, peppering your hair and face in kisses. She opens to speak. but gets cut off by the loud cheering inside the house and the sound of distant fireworks.

“Happy new years, baby, I love you.” Diana says in a soft tone, bringing her lips to yours in a gentle kiss full of feeling. You pull her down closer, deepening the kiss to pour your passion into it. Finally you pull away breathlessly.

“I love you too.” You respond and rest your forehead against hers.

“Honey champagne!” Calls your mother from the doorway and you both turn to look at her.

“Oh” she says and you turn to look at Diana; smeared across her face is your ‘smudge proof’ lipstick and you’re sure you look worse.

“Thanks we will take some champagne.” Diana plucks the two glasses from her hands and passes one to you. She clinks her glass against yours, deciding to ignore your scandalized mother.

“To new beginnings in a new year baby”

#diana taurasi #lesbian #wnba x reader #fanfic #lgbtqia #wnba requests #christmas #new year #holiday #holiday fic #diana taurasi x reader #wlw smut #sapphic smut

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trinlovessoobin · 2 days ago

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╰┈➤ speed drive

{san x fem!reader y/n}

quick description: san is a street racer and so are you aka y/n he has a big ego and so do you but he also finds you very attractive and makes a bet if we wins the race against you…

word count 2.5k

[warning of content]. unprotected sex(use protection yall), cum on stomach, use of pet names (baby, sweetie), winning kink, ego kink, (lmk if I forgot one it’s been a million years since i’ve posted on here)

you’ve heard san’s name many times he’s one of the best speed racers in the male league and you were one of the best in the female league but the this new race you entered was unlike your other races it’s all genders, you knew you were going to see him in fact you hoped you would not only did you hear about how good he is but you’ve also heard about how cocky he is. you wanted so badly to meet him and beat him in a race and this was your chance. you went by your racer name in case you ever got caught no one would know your real name. angel was your cover name. you wondered if san’s name was actually san.

you began to get ready putting your hair into a slick back pony tail this way your hair wouldn’t get in your face during the race. when you arrived at the road where it was taking place it was a straight shot for most of the road but then turns onto a slimmer road. it was surrounded by fields completely secluded where no one would hear their loud engines. your car was your baby, you had completed remodeled the inside putting in your own engine, it was a 2020 chevrolet corvette with a hot pink wrap and pink leather seats. you had replaced the engine with a toyota 2JZ-GTE, you loved the way the car would purr once it started up. when you pulled up to the spot people instantly started to crowd you. not to flex or anything but you were fairly popular amongst the street racing community when another car pulled up beside you. a matt black honda NSX. you couldn’t help but admire the car she was beautiful, when a man just as beautiful stepped out “It’s san!! he’s so hot” you hear girls say behind oh. so this is san

you walk up to him to introduce yourself but it seems like he already knows you “angel” he says with a smirk

“I cannot wait to race you, truly, it’ll be an honor to beat you”

“how are you so sure you’re gonna win? you’ve never seen me race don’t be so cocky. it’ll make you look like a fool once you lose”

you give him a sarcastic smile then walk over to the person who will be judging the race just to get the basics of rout.

once everyone is settled in the races begin a few lesser known racers begin to race each other each time the man one but this didn’t worry you since every single girl racer you’ve beat with flying colors. the last race is going on before yours and san’s when sam walks over to you.

“getting nervous yet?”

“I was just about to ask you the same question”

“I have a bet, would you be willing to partake?”

you look at him a little surprised.

“what’s the bet?”

“If I win, you sleep with me. and I get to know your real name”

“are you serious?”

“dead, I mean we don’t have to make this bet if you really think you’ll lose”

“no, but i have to get something if i win”

“I guess it’s only fair. what do you want IF you win”

you pause to think, what does he have that you want.

“you know i looked you up before the race. the prize money for this race is only $500. and while i was looking i saw you’ve got a lot of money don’t you? how about if i win you give me $15k. that’ll help me pay off my new engine don’t you think?”

“you looked me up i’m flattered. now I really hope I win but not for the money loss id get if I lose but i want to hear you scream my name while I fuck you”

you’re left speechless by his confidence you can’t help but be a little turned on by it but you cannot let him win for your own dignity. the last race finished with the man winning again.

you both get into your cars and line them up at the starting like engines purring you both in sync look at each other then look at flag girl who stood in the middle of both cars she’s wearing short shorts and a little crop top with a little white flag she hold it in the air looks at you then looks at san and waves it down you both take off dashing leaving tire marks behind. he starts off in the lead but you are close behind little does he know this is the tactic you aren’t going your full speed until just before the sharp turn you speed up ahead of him and take the turn cutting him off forcing him to slow down now your in the lead and not just by a little he catches up to you but you still hold your lead. just a month ago you installed a booster into your engine. you didn’t want to just beat san you wanted to demolish him and he was too close for comfort so you hit your booster flying head of him now he’s a full cars length behind and you fly past the finish line and make a donut before hopping out and getting swarmed with the watchers.

san gets out of his car and just stares at you with his arms crossed. he’s wearing a compression shirt and you notice his muscles and defined jawline it wouldn’t have been THAT bad to lose. he walks over to you and extends his hand.

“congratulations. you really threw me for a loop with that turn. you’re good” then he leans in and whispers into your ear.

“y’know i’m better in bed then i am on the road”

this sends shivers down your spine.

“but you lost” you say while shrugging. “pay up” you say with a smile.

“well i don’t have the money right now give me your number. i’ll meet with you tonight with the money.”

———————————————————————

you took a hot shower once you were home. races always get you tensed up and you quickly dry your hair and put on jeans and a silk tank top and throw a cardigan over it to go meet san. he sent you the location of some steak house not too far from your apartment. once you get there you saw him waiting outside in a black button up and black dress pants his hair was neatly combed back. he looked hot, and he smirks once he noticed you.

“what’s the meaning of this why are we at a steak house?”

“I wanted to treat you to a nice dinner to congratulate you on your winnings”

you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“no funny business” you say

“i can’t promise anything” he says leading you into the restaurant.

you decide to take advantage of the situation and order the most expensive meal and an expensive drink. and another. and another. he stops you at the forth drink.

“are you trying to get drunk? i mean i don’t have a problem with driving you home but i think you would have a problem with that.”

“im not drunk” you say slurring your words together. normally you can handle your alcohol but you didn’t actually know what was in the drink you were ordering you just wanted san to spend a bunch of money and ended up shitfaced.

“look i’m going to be honest with you angel I took you here to convince you to sleep with me, there’s a hotel above this place and I booked a room but i’m not going to take advantage of a drunk girl. i’m getting the bill and taking you home.”

once he payed he walked you outside to his car but drunk you refused to give him your address.

“listen angel-“ san starts to speak but you cut him off

“don’t call me that”

“but that’s all i know you by sweetie”

“y/n is my name don’t call me angel”

san can’t help but smile now that he knows your name.

“look y/n i’m going to take you up to the hotel room and ill get another room for myself if you don’t give me your address”

“okay” you say just looking down at the floor

“okay, fine up to the hotel room i guess you better not hate me for this i swear”

he takes you up to the room and places you onto the bed he helps you with your shoes then gets up to leave but you stop him and grab his wrist.

“can you sleep in here. it’s a big bed and, and i know that i’m drunk i just don’t like being alone while drunk i feel all funny and get nervous, could you just stay here please”

san sighs before nodding his head and turning off the lights he’s lays down beside you and you both fall asleep.

the next morning you wake up with the worst headache and you hear noise at the door. but it’s not your door it’s a hotel room door? and wait san is at the door??? he comes back to the bed with a plate of food in his hand room service??

“oh, good morning sleepyhead”

san looked surprising cute in the morning his smile was softer and his dimples showed.

“what the fuck” is all you can seem to say though.

san can’t help but giggle a little.

“we didn’t do anything don’t worry y/n, i don’t take advantage of drunk girls. i was going to leave but YOU wanted me to stay. basically pleaded i offered to take you home but you refused to give me your address” he leaned in a little and smiled

“but y am ou did give me your name”

“i’m sorry. this is so fucking embarrassing” you say then notice the platter of fruit he brought and take a slice of cantaloupe.

“i’ve never gotten drunk like this what was even in that drink i normally know my limit, guess i got carried away. but you stayed” your eyes fall to his chest. san wasn’t wearing a shirt, you couldn’t help but stare at his toned abs he caught you staring.

“like what you see?”

you snapped out of it a glared at him.

“oh come on don’t give me that look you did this to yourself baby”

your body had a reaction to that pet name he could turn you on so easily but you couldn’t let him win. san could also tell how easily he got to you that’s why he was so persistent he knew he could break you eventually.

you shook it off “i’m just going to eat then go home. thank you for taking care of me in my embarrassing state i can promise you it will never happen again”

san looked down at you. you were still sat on the bed looking up at him his large frame you knew of he were to kiss you right now you would kiss him back he would win. he felt it too because he grinned and bit his lower lip he picked up the plate of food and put it on the night stand all you could do was stare at him in silence this constant battle between you two on the winner you may have won the race but he won you.

he crawled on the bed laying you down and pinning you between his thick arms.

“I dont want to push you into this baby, i know I’ve been pushy but i would never force you to do anything you dont want to do”

you put your hands up to his neck and strokes his Jaw with your thumb.

“as much as this hurts my pride… you win”

san leans down slowly basically doing a push-up into your lips it was soft, softer than expected just a kiss just you desperately wanting more, you put your fingers in his hair giving it a tug to pull him closer.

he pulls away and smiles down at you.

“so eager for me baby, I wanna take my time and savor this moment”

he kisses you again this time he slides his tongue into your mouth. it’s not sloppy though it’s passionate it’s hard to think of anything other than him. you could kiss him like this forever. he pulls away again to catch his breath and starts leaving a trail of kisses on your jaw, down your neck, onto your collar bone he sits up his legs still on either side of you he pulls off your shirt revealing your laced black bra. you stare up at him while you unclasp the back of your bra and throw it to the side. you grab his neck and pull him back into a kiss, getting more and more eager you start to grind against his member and pulling at his hair while your tongues dance, he groans into the kiss from the sudden friction between you two. he starts kissing down till he gets to your jeans that you slept in he unbuttons them and pulls them off, your black laced underwear that matched your bra. he takes the underwear waistband with his teeth and pulls them off leaving them on the floor completing the matching set of your undergarments.

“baby you’re so beautiful. i’m a lucky loser”

he spreads your legs leaving kisses on your inner thigh.

“so wet, just for me”

you accidentally let out a small whine while he teases you.

“awe baby, getting so eager”

you roll your eyes and sit up and begin unbuttoning his pants.

“yes, you’re taking too long”

he finishes taking off his pants and boxers revealing his large member. you take his shoulders and and maneuver him onto his back. and straddle him just hovering over him.

“what’s this y/n? taking the lead are we?”

“yes”

you then align your hole with his tip and sit down, you begin to bounce up and down at this angle you are taking him fully. his hand his gripped around your waist while the other is on your ass. you begin to bounce a little faster he groans and cocks his head back.

“baby you’re taking me so well”

he places two fingers on the top of your clit making circling motions, you moan from the sensation and you pick up your pace bouncing a little faster.

“y/n, you look so tired let me take the”

the bouncing was straining your legs so he flips you over onto your back in once swift motion still in you and begins to pump into you fast and hard, he nestles his face into your neck breathing heavily kissing your neck in between breaths. you’re constant moaning keeps him going.

“sannie, i’m gonna cum”

the nick name only got him more exited.

“cum for me cum all over my dick”

after a few more pumps you cum all over him, your walls clenching around his dick he rides out your high. shortly after he quickly pulls out and cums on your stomach.

he leans down and kisses you on the forehead before getting up.

“you did so well, let me get you cleaned up”

he walks over to the bathroom and gets one of the hotel hand towels wetting it a little with warm water before walking back over to you and cleaning you up.

putting on his boxers while you both change back into your clothes. “would you consider going out with me”

you giggle and look at him while putting on your shirt, you don’t quite answer yet to keep him on his toes. once you both were fully dressed you walk over to him and drape your arms around his neck and give him a small kiss.

you huff and finally give in

“i’ll go out with you”

thank you guys for reading sorry if it’s shit 😜

#san ateez #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #san smut #smut #san fanfic

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masons-tours · 13 hours ago

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Hi my name is Emma

Im really nervous posting this as its been such a big part of my life over the past 2 years but I’ve been putting this off for the last few months I guess I just didn’t want to let this blog go as I had become so attached but I know it’s time. Don’t worry I won’t be deleting the blog and all the content will stay. For those who will be concerned that it’s something deeper and that I need to Go WOW Hydrate myself I’ve just been slowly moving away from Mason over the last few months, some will have noticed that given that I have been ignoring certain subjects.

I have enjoyed every second interacting with all of you even the trolls who the escape the dungeon every so often. Finding stuff together that I had never seen and reliving all the fun memories from years past was always a joy. We have had good times like Nike Photoshoots and some anxiety ridden times like Trips To Greece🤣😂 We have followed traditions with bluebell season and Fluffy Winter Mason. We have argued about our 6ft kings 🧦 size but always agreed he has a big tongue and would use it to its full advantage. The amount of polls I subjected you all too should never be forgiven but I was always surprised you all liked them so much.

Masons Tours has been a successful business we have expanded to countless locations from Miami to Birmingham to The Dubai of South England but it’s time that the Australian location closed its doors. the cost of living effects even millionaire footballers 🤣😂

Last month I listed all my favourite blogs and in some way or another you have all made my time on Masonblr so much fun wether it’s gifs you’ve made, Fics you have created with your incredible imaginations and writing abilities, dirty filthy sexy chat at 4am when I couldn’t sleep, asking me about schedules that I have still never figured out

Love Aussie (Emma)

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obsessivecelestial · 2 hours ago

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Ahem ahem,,, I supposed I need to make a lil appreciation end of the year post :3

Imma try to get to as many people as I can, and if I forget you, it’s because I’m fighting off a sickness so I’m a lil out of it!

@stormbreaker-290 I don’t really know where to start, but you’ve genuinely brightened my year! You’re very funny and sweet and I always find myself smiling and literally kicking my legs whenever you post anything! You’re an amazing friend and I’m happy to have somebody to share my interests with!! Your art is also amazing and I adore it so much! I love when you show me little doodles you make :3

@bumble-the-sun-bee if it weren’t for you, I never would’ve ever met Storm of any of the people I now know! You’ve played the biggest part in this and I couldn’t be more grateful for you. You were one of the reasons I started experimenting with my art and why I’ve improved because of your silly little virus guy! You’re also just enjoyable to talk to and I love seeing all the art you make. It’s motivating and inspiring every time you post and I can’t thank you enough for introducing me to all of the people I know. You’re also very kind to me and I appreciate that!

@eternal-soup SOUP! You’re, again, so amazing! I really really love playing Roblox with you, and I really appreciate how you put up with my shenanigans and constant talking. You’re also so sweet towards me and others! Your voice is soothing to listen to as well and I thought you should know! :3c thank you for drawing things for me and being my friend for the months you have! And I hope we continue to be friends! You’re silly and sweet, and I find that you make me happy a lot!

@multifandomcutie13 we don’t talk a lot or interact to much, but when we do, you’re very kind! You seem like you’re a sweet person and I hope to grow our friendship through time!

@escapetheslaughters we also don’t talk a lot, but you’re still my friend! Your roleplaying is so entertaining to read and I can’t wait to interact and roleplay with you more! Your random posts also get giggles out of me, and I find joy in being apart of your blogs!!

@purplelordstudios hii!!! We actually haven’t properly spoken since Pinterest a few years ago! And I also have to thank you for being my friend back then and I hope we can maybe become good friends again now! You helped me through art and gave me some motivation for it back then, and now I enjoy seeing how you’ve grown and how your art has changed over the years! I hope to draw our OC’s together again! It’s been a while since they’ve last seen each other!

@jackamaryllis you know who you are to me, and I love you so so so much. You’re been with me my whole life, you’ve been my longest standing friend and I cannot thank you enough for that. You’re hilarious, you’re creative, you support and help me just as I do you. You’re one of the closest people in my life and I don’t ever want that to change. You mean the world to me, and I physically cannot imagine one without! I can’t wait to see you again and I can’t wait to cosplay with you again! You’re kind and you’re smart and you’re just the most amazing person I can ever ask to be in my life!

@compulsiveimpairment @bipolar-sad-and-ready-to-cry @bittyfromquotev @wonders-sunlight @pinkieglitterheart @redvelvetstars22 @animatronic-assistant @upsidedownapple @achickennamedcheese @kibblenoodlesnail

All of you are also so amazing, and I can’t thank you all enough for being in my life and being my mutuals! Some of you we don’t talk, but I still think about you and care for you all deeply!

I hope the new years treats every single one of you well and it’s a good year! You’ve all impacted my life in a good way and I thank you all for that. I love you all dearly /p

Happy new years (eve)!! 🫂🫂🫂

#rambles #moot🩵‼️#celestial rambles #appreciation post #I love all of my mutuals so so much!!#I can’t think of anything more to say-#so uh-#I love you all #and stay safe for me!!#*HUGGING HUGGING HUGGINNGGG*

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 21 hours ago

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First of all, thank you to my darling Lola @monamipencil for tagging me for this, it's actually the perfect opportunity for me to announce this.

This is officially my last post on this account. As much as I adore this account, it was started over 7 years ago as a shared account and I think it's about time I actually start an account that is entirely my own.

If you want to continue following me, my new account is @nothoughtsjustfic and I'll be very happy to see you there!

However, if you no longer wish to follow me, I just want to say thank you for following me this far. I appreciate all the support I've received on this account over the past years and I truly wish all of my followers, past, present and future, the very best of things.

For my wrapped I want to look back on not just 2024 but all of my writing on this account as a kind of final farewell to the account so excuse that this is a lil long.

I also got carried away with fic recs at the end oops.

First pieces of writing on whipped-for-kpop-fics

My first piece on this account GOT7 catch you staring 117 notes 0.9k Individual GOT7 x reader reactions, fluff. Posted 4th April 2017

My first fic on this account Birthday Boy 386 notes 3.8k Jungkook x reader smut. Posted 1st September 2017

First piece of 2024 Petnames Seventeen would use for their S/O 93 notes 0.9k Individual Seventeen x reader headcanons, fluff. Posted 24th March 2024

First fic of 2024 Starlight Eyes 103 notes 14k Idol Seungkwan x staff reader, friends to lovers, fluff. Posted 28th March 2024

Last piece of writing on whipped-for-kpop-fics

Naïve 127 notes 11.5k Best friend Chan x reader, thriller, angst. Posted 27th November 2024

Most popular pieces of writing

Delivery Boy 2,312 notes 3.3k Delivery boy Jungkook x customer reader, smut. Posted 9th October 2017 I still can’t believe this is the most popular thing I’ve ever written literally 7 years later.

Life’s A Beach 1,663 notes 7.3k Lifeguard Mingyu x reader, strangers to lovers, smut. Posted 23rd July 2024

Let our lips lock, baby 1,162 notes 9.6k Mingyu x reader, friends to lovers, fluff, smut. Posted 6th April 2024

BTS when their S/O shakes from an orgasm 1,021 notes 0.5k Individual BTS members x reader smut reactions Posted 8th February 2018 Okay this one has genuinely surprised me; I never knew this post was so popular and honestly forgot about it. Made me laugh to reread just now though. I remember I used to get so frustrated looking for gifs to match the reactions because the laptop I had then was so slow. Ah, memories.

Longest fics

Troublemaker 994 notes 15.9k Gang boss Seungcheol x gang member reader, angst, fluff, crack, smut. Posted 9th September 2024

Mirror Mirror 175 notes 15.9k Seokmin x witch reader, magic au, fluff, minor smut, minor angst. Posted 27th October 2024

My personal favourites on whipped-for-kpop-fics

Protection Squad 42k series. Shapeshifter Yoongi x reader, angst, fluff. Posted 2nd April – 21st June 2018 This series started because I was struggling mentally and wanted to write about playing with cats as a form of therapy and then this happened. I got a lot of responses and asks about this series from readers who related to the big mental health theme and so I think that is such a big reason as to why this series will always have a special place in my heart. I like to think it helped readers who were struggling feel seen and understood, like they aren’t alone. Plus it’s shapeshifters and I love that, even if the writing is obviously written by a much younger me.

Troublemaker 994 notes 15.9k Gang boss Seungcheol x gang member reader, angst, fluff, crack, smut. Posted 9th September 2024 I truly think this is one of the best things I’ve ever written and I don’t think I’ll ever write something better. The vibes were just on point when I was writing and this one really ran away from me but in the best of ways. I genuinely adore this story and the characters.

Dark 191 notes 3.2k Monster Jeonghan x human reader, horror. Posted 18th August 2024 This was the first attempt at writing a horror fic and I loved the entire experience of writing it. It opened my heart and mind up to this kind of darker fics, and the feedback I received for Dark really made me so happy and convinced me that I should write more horror/thriller fics in the future!

Total pieces of posted writing: 33

Reactions/headcanons: 18

Fics: 15

Total posted wordcount: 121,420 (roughly)

Writing plans for 2025

To open up my new account starting on the 1st January 2025 I’m going to post a less than 3k word piece for each Seventeen member, including: another vampire Jeonghan fic, single parent Seokmin and siren Seungkwan! I’m very excited about those.

But what I am most excited about is that in 2025 I will post the entire first part of my pirate Seventeen series! Part one includes 7/8 chapters and each should be around 10k so this is going to be my longest story perhaps ever but it’s all planned and I’m so in love with it, you have no idea. I think the total wordcount for the pirate fic will be around 500k, which is admittedly terrifying and no doubt daunting as a reader but I hope at least one person will join me on that adventure when it happens!

I’m really bad at actually picking favourites so this is just a list of some of the fics I’ve read and enjoyed this year, arranged by svt member because why not.

Poly crossroads by @smileysuh Mingyu x reader x Wonwoo A New Rhythm by @sluttywoozi Yoongi (BTS) x reader x Jihoon

Seungcheol Have My Baby by @seokgyuu on my knees by @sescoups eat. play. love. by @husbandhoshi

Jeonghan young & stupid by @wavesmp3

Jisoo mr. nice guy by @toruro

Junhui ocean view by @junkissed What’s My Age Again? by @milfgyuu

Soonyoung Burnt Coffee by @highvern warm by @ddeonghwa-s Yes, Baby by milfgyuu just a moment with you by husbandhoshi (s)exercise by @monamipencil charity f*ck by @ncteez What? Like It's Hard? by @starsstuddedsky

Wonwoo no such thing as too perfect by @fairyhaos into the night by @etherealyoungk Heart of the Sea by highvern 34.6037° S, 58.3816° W by @the-boy-meets-evil

Jihoon Shy Woozi by @hoshifighting The Hair Tie Test by sluttywoozi Somewhere In The Middle by sluttywoozi

Seokmin RAW by @ourdawnishotterthanourday $$60 billion by @onlyseokmins

Mingyu When I Kissed the Teacher by highvern Whipped by @minisugakoobies The Way of The House Husband by @wonustars

Minghao Perspective by @tomodachiii

Seungkwan Who Wants to be a Dumbass by @soongyeopsal The Beach House by @bluehoodiewoozi

Hansol Quondam by @flurrys-creativity favorite coworker by sescoups The Cat-Parent Trap by bluehooziewoozi

Chan venus in furs by monamipencil DOES HE KNOW? by @hannieehaee

Oh I got far too carried away with this fic list and now this post is super long but all of the fics are more than worth it! Seriously, I highly recommend each of them.

Thank you to everyone who has supported this account, and me, by following, reblogging and commenting. I endlessly appreciate every single one of you.

May this next year be a happy and healthy year for us all and may we all feel genuine love, in whatever form that comes in be that platonic, romantic or otherwise.

See you again, I hope, Chee 💗

Closed: 31/12/2024

#2024 tumblr wrapped #last post

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prettyoddfever · 2 days ago

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the Seattle Ryden story is fake.

Tumblr's new post format is way better than 2020, so I’m expanding my old post here.

THE GENERAL STORY:

I just googled this...

REAL-LIFE AUGUST 2007 EVENTS:

The band did a string of shows & appearances in the UK (Decaydance Fest, Kerrang Awards, Reading, Leeds) in late August 2007. The last show was on August 26th and then the band flew back home (they lived in Vegas & Chicago btw... not California). They had a few days off before they needed to be in Seattle for their Bumbershoot performance on September 1st. Brendon and Ryan had a work obligation in NYC on August 31st, so it looked like Ryan went to stay with Keltie in NYC. There were pictures of them hanging out in places like Central Park and they did this photoshoot.

Yes, Keltie threw Ryan a bday party at Angels & Kings on August 30th. Ryan hung out at Angels & Kings with Keltie and her friends earlier that summer too. Plus, Travie McCoy had a birthday party at Angels & Kings that summer with a cake that looked very close to the one Ryan got. Their bday parties were good publicity for the new bar. Angels & Kings had opened around early May that year and other Decaydance bands invested in it, but the P!ATD guys had been too young.

Ryan's friends who lived in NYC were at the party, like Gabe Saporta, Eric Ronick, and Travie McCoy (who also performed at Bumbershoot). However, Ryan's crew of Vegas friends he'd been hanging out with that year weren't there. It just seemed like a NYC thing. I didn't think it was weird that the band members who weren't even in NYC were absent, even though I didn't know specifically why. A lot of fans assumed that the guys wanted a few days off nbd. Also, even if Brendon was in NYC in time for that party, he was still underage. A couple weeks later he and Spencer were turned away from Crush Management's party before the VMAs lol.

Anyways, on August 31st Brendon and Ryan needed to do the interview for Fuse that was chopped up to use in all of those Videos That Rocked The World daily episodes that came out after Thanksgiving:

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These episodes covered some big names, so it was very cool that P!ATD's opinion was included... even if the ads seemed to feature Brendon & Ryan more than the actual episodes did lol. Here's an example of the first episode (others were for Madonna, Aerosmith, OK Go, Guns N' Roses, Van Halen, Britney Spears, Public Enemy, Alanis Morissette, and Beastie Boys):

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here's more from that episode.

The band's Fuse interviews were usually done in New York City while they were on tour. A few years ago I emailed someone who worked on the VTRTW set because I wanted to double-check the date and location of Brendon & Ryan's interview before sharing that it wasn't Seattle. She gave me some other contact info and three very kind people looked into their old emails & call sheets. The director and the executive producer for the VTRTW series separately confirmed the NYC location and 8/31 date. Maybe they were both mistaken about the location, and Fuse randomly decided to film in Seattle despite the fact that their studio was in NYC... but the romantic motivation for Ryan to join Brendon is still erased.

Also, whoever made up the Seattle story seems to think that birthdays were important and meaningful to Ryan to the extent that he would fly across the country in the middle of the night to spend it with someone ~special. Ryan talked to Upbeet Music in fall 2005 about touring on his birthday and said "Birthdays were never a really huge deal in my family so it’s not like I’m bummed out that I didn’t get a party or anything so it’s cool." Obviously people can change over the years, so I'm just adding that as a side detail.

THE PICTURE:

Does anyone know who the fan is who shared the picture above? and what their original story was? It’s repeated a lot but I’ve never seen a source, a direct quote, or anyone who even saw the original person’s post (which is super weird). The whole Seattle story sounds about as reliable as the current fandom’s “funeral picture” tbh. There was also a problem in the pre-split years where some fans would steal other people’s pictures, claim it was theirs, invent a story about meeting the band, and then crop out or draw over the original person (and spin a story about how they looked ugly that day, didn’t want their face online, didn't want the band to know who was sharing the story, etc). Maybe that happened here too.

side tangent: idk why people are saying that since Ryan's outfit in the picture above is the same as his birthday then he must have arrived in Seattle without luggage. Why even add that part lol. He clearly wore a different outfit of his for Bumbershoot.

Anyways, I do agree that the picture at the top of this post looks like it was taken around the same time as the interview based on small details with their hair & outfits (the fact that they're wearing the same general clothes isn't reliable because those guys could repeat outfits for daysss). Fuse was located on 7th Avenue across from Madison Square Garden. The background of the picture looks like it could potentially be in that whole area. Maybe a fan got a picture with them while they were heading to their interview, who knows.

OTHER SEATTLE THINGS THAT *SHOULD* BE UNRELATED:

Yes, Brendon changed a line in That Green Gentleman to joke about Ryan while they were doing an acoustic show at the Space Needle in Seattle in October 2008. That was a normal thing and shouldn't stand out in any way.

Please don’t ruin Northern Downpour by dragging it into the Seattle theory and/or making it a Ryden thing. People are wildly misinterpreting some interview quotes & events (possibly because they don’t understand Ryan’s role in the band), so there’s more in this post about Northern Downpour.

Brendon, Ryan, Spencer, and Brent all talked about how much they loved the Pacific Northwest starting from the first time they played a show there in fall 2005. The boys were from a desert area and talked a lot in the early months about how they hadn’t had the chance to travel much (except Brent had been to Canada). Each time they visited Seattle or Portland at least one of them would mention how they loved the weather, trees, etc. Their strong appreciation of Seattle started in 2005 and has nothing to do with a fake affair in 2007.

There are a lot of assumptions surrounding the Seattle story in general, most of which seem to come from a lack of knowledge about the band. Even this post still assumes & projects a lot:

Brendon was not Ryan's best friend in 2007. That was pretty easy to spot (there's more in this post).

idk what else people are saying about Seattle, but I'll probably add more here later

#ryden

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eyepatchdate · 2 hours ago

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Three short stories were posted on the official Swansong website, providing more information on its main characters. Originally posted on 6/20/2022 at “news.vampire-swansong.com”, this was the entry that feature Galeb, his origin story and his sire, Tavernier.

***

“Justice. You must understand, Galeb, that there’s no better motivation for our kind than the righting of wrongs.” Tavernier’s elbows rested on the ship’s balustrade, his chin perched on his interlaced fingers as he looked not as his progeny, but at the restless sea, and tried to make sense of where the darkness of the water gave way to the sky. The stars above were scant and the moon absent behind thick clouds, forcing Tavernier into the very human gesture of screwing up his eyes to see a little better. Of course, it did nothing. Light proved elusive beyond the lamps hanging and placed on the ship, their flames protected but still caught in the stiff wind.

“Whether it’s seeking vengeance for wrongs done to us, or making amends for sins we witnessed but did nothing about in our lives. Think of everything you’ve ever lost and what you could gain, in your mind and your heart, by preventing others from falling to the same ill fates.” Tavernier remained locked in position, finally certain he could spot the horizon, though it may have been a trick of the light.

“There was I, thinking the answer was blood.” Galeb leaned next to his sire, but unlike the elder vampire, Galeb’s back was to the sea and his gaze cast purely to Tavernier. He was examining the old creature’s form, from the blonde, bound hair on his head, resisting the breeze, to his arched nose, his tight shoulders, his narrow waist, his feet poised on the planks in their soft leather shoes. “You’re immovable, you know? Like a statue carved from…”

“Yes?” Tavernier’s mouth twitched a little, concealing a smile.

“… ah, I don’t have the words. I’ll opt for a pale wood.”

Tavernier let out a laugh and stood straight. “Wooden. Yes. You wouldn’t be the first to describe me that way. But I believe it’s more complimentary to be described as a rare gem, or carved from alabaster. You know?” He clapped Galeb on the shoulder and walked the deck with his childe, the two unaffected by the churning sea not far beneath them.

“Allow me to reserve for you the finer compliments, to be delivered at a time where you rightly deserve them. For a deed,” Galeb gestured with one hand out to the right, “or a misdeed,” his left hand reached out in the opposite direction, before he dropped both to his waist. “I’ve known you for a score of years, and you are still unknowable. You patronize, but you don’t direct. You advise, but I never gather you have any motives of your own…”

“And so this is why you ask again about motivation?” Jean-Baptiste Tavernier grinned at his undead offspring. “Well as I’ve told you many times, the righting of wrongs…”

“I am not some angel to go about delivering vengeance on behalf of the helpless, my friend. And nor have I seen you performing such heroic deeds, so clearly as motivations go,” Galeb spoke the words clearly, but found himself trailing off, “you must be lacking…” There were wrongs in need of righting, but he was too far removed from them to address them in any meaningful way.

Just over ten years prior, Galeb had first made Tavernier’s acquaintance, the two becoming associates and business partners. Galeb wasn’t blindsided by Tavernier’s eventual admission of undeath; he knew there was something mysterious and dangerous about the merchant explorer, but the vital parts he was missing were the ones regarding blood drinking and ungodly powers. The night-time existence was one he was more prepared to handle, having only encountered Jean-Baptiste Tavernier — in all their time together — in the hours after dusk. But when Tavernier, after five years of knowing him, offered him what he called “the gift of an eternity to explore, learn, and change the world,” Galeb wasn’t thinking about the curses that came with such an existence.

Galeb accepted the gift, but found it left him bitter and empty. Where immediately Tavernier tried to turn his childe toward growth and influence at best, or at worst, avenging slights against him, Galeb was unable to see unlife through either lens. He swiftly detached himself from humankind and living concerns, and closer to his sire, courting interest from other Kindred in the ports they visited, but ignoring the overtures of mortal politics and wealth. He was content to expand his mercantile empire and fill his pockets with the profits, but the day-to-day interested him far less than the night-to-night. And so, as they came to cross the sea on one of their many voyages together, Galeb had asked Tavernier again for motivation. And again, Tavernier directed him toward justice.

“Why is it that you repeatedly peddle this line?” Galeb’s buoyant demeanor had slipped, his expression blank, his words low. “What is it you want from me? I hear you frustratedly describe to others like us that I won’t be drawn on the matters of mortals, that you expected more of me upon my Embrace, and that my merely furnishing us both with fortune is insufficient. Do I disappoint you, sire?” He spat the last word.

“Do not call me that.” Tavernier held up his left hand, his right steadying his balance against the mast as the ship’s crew darted about, trying to control the vessel as it overcame a swell. For the first time in a long while, Tavernier looked unsteady on his feet, and he couldn’t meet his childe’s gaze. “You see me that way, but I see us as equals, as friends, peers, lovers. I’m not your commander. It’s not my place to be disappointed in you.” He lifted his face to study Galeb. “I am in awe of you. We’re told that a fledgling Kindred requires a mentor’s steady hand. In our clan, in particular, great importance is placed on lineage and the relationship between creator and creation. But here you are, Galeb, already prepared to step aside from the trivialities of the living and embrace the world of the dead. Your mind works differently to others. Sometimes you flourish, sometimes you lay as if you were a corpse, in need of affirmation before you can continue. And I believe I know what you need to become whole.”

Galeb forced a roll of his eyes and walked close to his sire, holding him tightly in his arms. “And you say what I need is justice. That if I were to adopt your view, I’d better understand my place in this world?”

Tavernier kissed Galeb on the lips and counted to ten before pulling away. “Set yourself a cause among the living, stand up for what is right among them, and yes, you’ll grip onto this world with firmness instead of just sailing on the tides from vampire court to vampire court. There must be an injustice you want answered. Now you have the power to address it!”

Galeb stroked Jean-Baptiste’s cheek before backing away. “There is. Of course there is.” He took Tavernier’s previous position at the balustrade, looking out to sea as the ship mounted a wave and crashed into the churn, sending sailors tumbling with shouts and nervous laughter. It was starting to rain. “But I maintain blood is the motivation, regardless of how you dress it in terms like ‘vengeance’ and ‘justice.’”

***

“Hektor, it’s been too long.” Galeb strode through the vampire’s antechamber and clasped the thick-set Brujah’s hand in a tight grip. Galeb had only arrived at Cyprus’s shore the night before, but whenever visiting a domain, it was his belief that early introductions made for better exchanges.

Hektor chuckled loudly as he pulled Galeb in close and patted him hard, three times, in the center of his back. “I received your message, though not long ago! As soon as I heard Galeb Bazory was sailing his way down the Mediterranean, and would be pulling into port on my island, well… I prepared for your arrival with what limited time I had! I’m frankly surprised you didn’t outpace the messenger!”

The two laughed and each took a mortal by the arm, placed in the hall by Hektor in the style of posed statues, ordered to not move until a Kindred came to claim them. Galeb’s prey had a dry trickle of urine down his leg, while Hektor’s struggled to move from having been held in place for so long. “I appreciate your grace in offering me a meal. I hadn’t wished to hunt in your domain, and Hunger stings after such a long voyage. I have to be very careful around my crew, Hektor.” Galeb’s fangs became visible in his mouth, thin and sharp. “They’re too well-trained and far too expensive to replace in every port just because I have an appetite.”

The two compatriots fed from their vessels, both man and woman stiffening and groaning, first in pleasure and then in distress, as the Prince of Cyprus and the visiting Galeb Bazory took their fill, and more besides. The air filled with the sound of the victims’ panting, hurried breaths, before Galeb dropped his mortal gently to the pillowed floor. Hektor however, didn’t relent. By the time he dropped the young woman, her chest had stopped rising and falling with breath.

The rotund Brujah wiped the gore from his mouth and dragged fingers through his knotted gray beard, forcing blood to spatter the tiles. “In my family, we consider it improper to leave a meal half-finished,” Hektor smiled through his thick facial hair, “but of course, you’re not of my family, are you, Galeb? Do you ever wonder how I know your preferences for feeding?”

Galeb stared at the fallen woman. Not the first dead body he’d witnessed, and unlikely to be the last. “No, I can’t say it’s ever troubled me. I doubt you’d be a Prince if you weren’t well-versed in knowing your guests ahead of their arrival.”

“Ah, well, on that matter you are correct. Praxis is a many-splendored thing, but does come with its share of demands… But you’re not here to engage me in political discussion, are you?” Hektor clapped his hands together loudly, drawing Galeb’s attention from the corpse on the floor. “Don’t worry about her. Someone will come to clean up the mess.”

The young Ventrue shook his head. Tavernier made clear to him early on in their new relationship that some Kindred valued life more cheaply than others. Galeb had long convinced himself he would see mortals as little more than feeding stock, but still; when presented with the unfeeling way with which Hektor fed from and dumped his bodies, and the rumors of the Brujah’s habit of tossing them off Cyprus’s cliffs, leaving families forever in the dark as to their relatives’ fates, Galeb clenches his teeth. There was a difference between vampires like he and Hektor, and it wasn’t — as Tavernier liked to say — due to lineage. This was a question of morality, and what brought Galeb to this island in the Mediterranean.

Galeb was in no mood to continue dwelling on the monstrosity of his host. “If my messenger arrived here, you’ll know my reasons for visiting, and that my stay will not be overlong. I promised high payment for good information. So tell me, Hektor: is the information good?” Galeb pulled a purse from his belt and threw it directly into Hektor’s cupped hands. The Brujah didn’t check the contents, but did squeeze the small pouch before giving a nod… which swiftly evolved into a shake of the head.

“Galeb, boy. You should blame that rogue, Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, for all this. You’ve sailed a long way and I’m sad to say I do not have the information you seek.” Hektor shrugged stiffly. “Only news you do not wish to hear.”

Galeb’s jaw once again clenched, and he ground his fangs together. He felt his hands balling into fists. Another very mortal gesture. Interesting how proximity to my mortal life makes me behave in mortal ways, he thought to himself before making an effort to temper his temper and ask for more information. “Please do not think me rude, Hektor, but get to the damn point. Fair or foul, I wanted to know the location of my mother and my brother in Constantinople. I doubt very much that you discovered nothing, so tell me what it is you know.”

Galeb had departed Constantinople as a youth, and not of his own volition. His mother, once named Jeannette de Bazory, served as an honored concubine in Sultan Ahmed III’s court in Constantinople. It was a good life for her, and a wondrous existence for the young Galeb, or Şehzade Süleyman, as his father named him. He enjoyed the luxuries of the court, the doting of dozens of beautiful, caring, intelligent women, and the love of a mother who adored him.

And then his father fell from power, and the young Galeb conspired, in foolish and naive ways, to have Ahmed restored. His mother, discovering this, and suspecting others might have done the same, sent her resisting son away from Constantinople before the Janissaries could capture him and murder him for treason. He’d not seen his family since, had never again set foot in Constantinople, and had resisted the urge to discover their fates.

But then came Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, with his talk of wrongs being righted, of justice being done, of vengeance for past ills. Again and again, Tavernier drummed into Galeb’s head that he would find purpose and satisfaction were he to revisit the past and see to it that injustices were answered. So, finally, Galeb agreed to sail for Constantinople and find his family.

“Answer me, Hektor. What became of them?” Galeb leaned forward, close enough to touch the bulbous vampire.

Hektor imitated an appearance of sadness. Galeb knew it was false as soon as he saw it on the Brujah’s face. Hektor had never looked anything other than angry or jubilant in the time he’d known him. Sorrow didn’t seem to appear in his register. “My poor boy… Ahh, Galeb. I’m sorry. I hate to be the bearer of such tidings, but I present you with the unfortunate truth that your mother was killed not long after you left the Holy City, and your brother was imprisoned. His fate is not confirmed, but it’s likely he expired in the cells and his body disposed of as that of a peasant or criminal. Always… tragic, when that happens to children.” Hektor offered his hands in condolence.

Galeb didn’t take them. He looked away from Hektor and out through an archway in the wall, where he could see the sea beneath the moonlight. “I… I cannot blame you for this, though I feel a rage stirring within me. They were not your responsibility, but mine, and I have been gone too long.”

Hektor laughed, much to Galeb’s annoyance. “And they say Ventrue are without emotion! Ah, Galeb. My boy. I truly am sorry you travelled all this way for such bad news. Still, you are welcome to remain here for as long as you desire it. I am always happy to host you, and your diamonds are always welcome in my court.” The implication was clear. You can stay, but you’ll be paying for it.

Galeb stood sharply, and once again clasped Hektor’s hand. “No, I will not be staying. Though my family may be dead, my journey remains incomplete. Tavernier says I need this to complete myself, or further my growth, or…” Galeb lifted his hand to his head and pressed his wrist to his temple. What was the point of this? How is this supposed to help me? What do you want from me, Jean-Baptiste? As Galeb contemplated, he felt that familiar roar inside his heart. That old voice, wanting to lash out.

Galeb locked eyes with Hektor.

“Can you see that ship out there in the bay, Hektor?” Galeb walked over to the archway, pointing into the distance.

The Prince moved to join him, sucking at some of the pieces of skin still wedged between his teeth. “Which one?”

Galeb didn’t answer. Instead, he moved back a step, and rammed his shoulder into the Brujah’s back, sending him tumbling through the archway and down the side of the building.

The drop wouldn’t kill the Prince. It wouldn’t even hurt him significantly, if rumors of his age were to be believed. But random and sudden acts of violence like this? Galeb found them to be very useful in curtailing the Beast. Even with his increasing distance from mortality, Galeb felt it better to unleash on a monster like Hektor than some undeserving mortal.

With vampires like Hektor, another purse filled with diamonds would be enough to make up for the poor manners.

***

Constantinople. Galeb recognized the streets, the sounds of a hundred accents, and when he forced himself to take a breath, he recognized the smells.

In particular, he recognized the odor of blood.

Currently, Galeb was covered in the tacky fluid, occasionally licking around his mouth or sucking some of it from his hands. He stared through a crimson mask at a Janissary he knew was named Ibrahim, the disarmed man cowering before the vampire. “Please understand, I’ve not lost control.” Galeb kicked the man’s sword far away, lodging the blade into the back of one of the Janissary’s fallen bodyguards. “This is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.”

The Janissary nodded feverishly, his eyes wide, his one good hand held up in surrender.

“I’m not berserk. I’m not in a rage. I’m delivering justice in place of injustice. I find the entire concept ludicrous, honestly, but Jean-Baptiste says this is what I need to do, so…” Galeb thrust his dagger into the Janissary’s stomach and provoked a scream from the terrified man. “I’m not going to lie to you. You’ll die here. But how quickly you pass on to the next life comes down to your answers to my questions.”

The Janissary didn’t respond with anything intelligible, instead gurgling in pain.

Galeb wasn’t feeling sympathetic, squatting down and leaning over the man as he twisted the blade. “When I lived here, my name was Şehzade Süleyman. I was one of the Sultan’s many bastards. It’s possible you remember me.”

Galeb gritted his teeth. He wasn’t a sadist, but there was that growl again, deep inside him. All this blood spilled, and he hadn’t fallen to his hands and knees to lap it up yet. He needed to maintain control to get the answers he sought.

“Even if you don’t, these are the facts: you and your cohorts ousted my father and made him place his nephew on the throne. By rights, that throne should have been mine, but I care little for rulership over your kind. What I care for more, is the fate of my father, who I’ve found died incarcerated; my mother, who smuggled me from this place and was subsequently butchered by you, and your friends; and my brother, Mustafa. It’s his whereabouts I need to discover, to ensure wrongs are righted.” Galeb extracted the dagger, and as it left the Janissary’s body, a small fountain of blood followed, which swiftly formed a spreading puddle on and around the old man. “So tell me. Where did you put him?”

The Janissary’s eyes were shut, but they opened as Galeb struck him across the face. “Yes! Yes! Mustafa! He’s imprisoned in the Topkapı Palace! Please! Please have mercy…”

The vampire considered his next move. End this traitor’s life. Drink deep and leave him as a drained husk. Leave him in agonizing pain… “I’m not a cruel man, but I am who I am tonight, because of men like you. And frankly,” Galeb surveyed the blood leaking from the Janissary’s body, “I doubt you’re my type.”

Galeb gripped the man’s jaw and stared into his wide eyes. “You will not remember my face, my name, or what I asked. Know that you’re dying, call out for help, but forget your attacker.”

The Janissary slowly nodded as Galeb stood and walked away, the dying man’s mind completely altered, left only with a blank space where the vampire once stood. Galeb licked the blood from his dagger and winced, before spitting it to the floor. “Definitely not my type.”

***

Seven throats were cut in the palace as Galeb made his way to the dungeons. The fledgling Ventrue was coated near head to foot in blood, and stood on one side of the bars separating him from his mortal brothers and cousins. It appeared the new Sultan was keen on locking away any potential claimants to the throne, but desired to keep them alive, in case he required their support. The prisoners awake to see Galeb gasped and let out moans of fear. Words like “demon” and “monster” reached his ears from their trembling lips.

“I’m not here to harm any of you. I’m here for Mustafa.”

Some of the prisoners gathered to hide the soft young man, who closely resembled the more severe Galeb. Others pointed him out in fear of what might happen if they refused to follow Galeb’s command.

Galeb fell to one knee and passed his dagger through the bars toward Mustafa, who let the blade drop to the stones. There was no recognition in Mustafa’s eyes toward his brother, whether due to their time apart, or the blood caked over him. “Mustafa. You do not need to know who I am, but know I’ve killed the men who killed our mother, and I will do my best to ensure you one day come to power, as… It would be justice.” Galeb’s voice lowered. “This blade opened the throats of your enemies. Keep it close and do not hesitate to use it to protect your own family, when you escape this place. I should have used it long ago to protect my own.”

Without receiving a response, Galeb rose and turned on his heel, quickly leaving the prison. He only found one guard in his path, who made no effort to tackle the vampire when she saw the monster before him.

***

Emerging from the Bosphorus, the blood streaking and washed from his skin, Galeb let out a roar, giving his Beast voice for the first time since arriving in Constantinople. As he trudged ashore and in the direction of his ship, he thought of the life he’d once lived, the eternity ahead of him, and his connection to Kindred, kine, and the world. He reflected on his relationship with his sire, how scared his brother looked, how those Janissaries screamed…

As he climbed the side of his ship, making his way up to the deck, Galeb muttered to himself, looking for the last time at Constantinople. “I was right, Tavernier… It wasn’t ‘justice’ that would make me grow. It wasn’t ‘righting wrongs.’ The motivation for all our kind is simply blood.”

Swansong short story #1: Blood

Archived from the official Vampire the Masquerade: Swansong website.

Three short stories were posted on the official Swansong website, providing more information on its main characters. Originally posted on 6/20/2022 at "news.vampire-swansong.com", this was the entry that feature Galeb, his origin story and his sire, Tavernier.

***

“Yes?” Tavernier’s mouth twitched a little, concealing a smile.

“... ah, I don’t have the words. I’ll opt for a pale wood.”

“And so this is why you ask again about motivation?” Jean-Baptiste Tavernier grinned at his undead offspring. “Well as I’ve told you many times, the righting of wrongs…”

“I am not some angel to go about delivering vengeance on behalf of the helpless, my friend. And nor have I seen you performing such heroic deeds, so clearly as motivations go,” Galeb spoke the words clearly, but found himself trailing off, “you must be lacking...” There were wrongs in need of righting, but he was too far removed from them to address them in any meaningful way.

Galeb forced a roll of his eyes and walked close to his sire, holding him tightly in his arms. “And you say what I need is justice. That if I were to adopt your view, I'd better understand my place in this world?”

***

“Answer me, Hektor. What became of them?” Galeb leaned forward, close enough to touch the bulbous vampire.

Galeb locked eyes with Hektor.

“Can you see that ship out there in the bay, Hektor?” Galeb walked over to the archway, pointing into the distance.

The Prince moved to join him, sucking at some of the pieces of skin still wedged between his teeth. “Which one?”

Galeb didn’t answer. Instead, he moved back a step, and rammed his shoulder into the Brujah’s back, sending him tumbling through the archway and down the side of the building.

With vampires like Hektor, another purse filled with diamonds would be enough to make up for the poor manners.

***

Constantinople. Galeb recognized the streets, the sounds of a hundred accents, and when he forced himself to take a breath, he recognized the smells.

In particular, he recognized the odor of blood.

The Janissary nodded feverishly, his eyes wide, his one good hand held up in surrender.

The Janissary didn’t respond with anything intelligible, instead gurgling in pain.

The Janissary’s eyes were shut, but they opened as Galeb struck him across the face. “Yes! Yes! Mustafa! He’s imprisoned in the Topkapı Palace! Please! Please have mercy…”

Galeb gripped the man’s jaw and stared into his wide eyes. “You will not remember my face, my name, or what I asked. Know that you’re dying, call out for help, but forget your attacker.”

***

“I’m not here to harm any of you. I’m here for Mustafa.”

***

#vtm #q #putting it under a readmore again so i haev it sourced on my own blog b/c i loved this one #thank you for posting these op

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