#Three Yes 3 Days of Free Time & Fun

[bunni-v1]

your shadow milk cookie relationships headcanons are now my canon. like what the fuck how can a piece of literature be so accurate to established information we know about him!!!!!!! hejsjsdjejwje ur shadowmilk is so loving and so cute lowkey

if you don't mind, since your requests are open, could you elaborate more on some more aspects of the relationship pre-ep 8 and post-ep 8? (if u haven't finished this part then u can just ignore this hehe) you mentioned how smc naturally gets more and more devoted as time goes on and he opens up (THEY MAKE ME FEEL SO ILL) so i've also wondered how he would act like when there is a threat that legitimately puts his lover in danger, or at worst, sets the tone to losing them. he'd mald, i imagine...

feel free to answer, feel free to ignore—i adore your work and i think it's not strange at all for you to shift to cookie run after dabbling in mostly human-ish games like ZZZ and TWST. all in good fun, plus you're feeding a parched audience (i am audience, haha) have a good day!

🍓Okay so this ask kinda has three parts to it, so please excuse me if it seems a little... all over the place. I'll answer both the pre and post ep 8 things, and then I'll be touching on what he's like with the threat. I do hope you enjoy my love <3

Tw: Mentions of body horror (cookie body horror?); Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive and Possessive behaviors; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk x Reader; Fluff; Angst (lowkey tho); Pre and Post episode 8 SMC (spoilers ahead lol); Drabble/Headcannons(?)

Pre Episode 8

From how the story seems to be set up, the confrontation with SMC should happen last, they just released it now because of the anniversary knowing he'd be hella popular lol. So I'm functioning with the idea that Gingerbrave and Co. arrive around when the other Ancients are finishing up their own confrontation with their respective beasts, meaning there's a lot of time to work with hehe.

Anyway, pre-episode 8 Shadow Milk leans into the category of 'yandere' a lot more than post. He's very obsessive about you, again stalking and watching you, learning as much as he can about you before he even allows you to see him.

You're more often than not being monitored by him, and if you're not, he's probably with you. He gets annoyed when other cookies talk to you, and he isn't afraid to voice that. While he does give you a lot of freedom, he does subtly limit the things you do and the people you're around. It's harder when you're not with him in the spire, but he goes about messing with the environment to keep you where he wants you.

And, yes, he'll crumble cookies in your name if he needs to. Their lives are arbitrary in the grand scheme of things, especially so if they're causing you strife. He won't hurt any cookies you hold dear to you -- though he really may want to at times -- only cookies that are a threat to your emotional or physical well-being. If the death causes you too much terror, then he'll tone it down to just... making their lives a miserable hellscape. It's what the deserve for hurting you, of course!

When you do join him in the spire (because you will, it's just a matter of how long it takes him to nudge you in that direction), the behavior is a bit more obvious. He doesn't like you leaving the spire for literally anything, and if you do he knows and will pop up by your side the second you stray too far. He plays it up as cute worrying, but he's legitimately scared for your wellbeing, like terrified. You're never alone in the spire if he can help it (and he can).

Like I said he watches a lot. There are eyes all around the spire and they follow you shamelessly. They appear content to just watch you, sometimes even literally forming hearts, so they're no threat to your well-being. Again, he's just observing you, more excited now that you're actually in the spire and close to him.

There is a notable difference in the environment, though you likely don't notice it (because you've only ever seen post you moving in). The atmosphere surrounding the spire is lighter, more colorful, and happy. It reflects his excitement at having you around, a visual nod to his love for you, even though you're not exactly away of it.

Despite the negatives here, there are positives! He's incredibly doting, you'll want for nothing with him. Your greatest dreams will come true with a wave of his hand, even with only half his power. He does let you wander around, you just won't be alone when you do so. He's very aware of the dangerous environment on beast yeast, he's cause for it, so he won't be risking your safety.

He's incredibly showy with his style of loving. Grand gifts and performances just to get you grinning and giggling. (He loves writing plays where the two of you are the main characters, falling in love in a million different ways, cutie he is.) He serenades you with syrupy sweet lyrics all about how much he adores all of you. Scoops you up in his arms and dances around with you. He's very touchy, like I said, always needing to have physical contact for whatever reason. (It's because he's scared you'll leave him too.)

He doesn't kiss you much if only to initiate more intimate activities. When he does, his intent is to fluster you nearly every time. Kissing is something that's hard for him, for whatever reason. It's more intimate than touches, and weirdly enough more intimate than sex in his mind. It makes him so vulnerable, so he tries to avoid it unless it's to get a reaction out of you.

Most of what he does is to get a reaction, actually. He likes seeing the way you express yourself, and regardless of what you do, he finds it cute. It's a little intimidating how much he stares, and he stares a lot. Very frequently you'll find him sitting around just... watching you. He won't stop even if you acknowledge it, just smiles all innocently until you go back to what you were doing.

That's sort of how it feels during this whole time, that he's just watching from the outside. There's a distance he keeps between you and him, the power dynamic is a lot more stark here. However, when you're not aware - be that you're sleeping or doing something where you can't see him - genuine affection comes out.

Floating around the spire in his arms as you rest, he whispers sweet nothings he could never bring himself to say to your face. He'll lead you around the winding halls of the spire with a path of your favorite flowers, aiding you in getting to where you want to go. He leaves gifts around, taking you on little treasure hunts just to reveal something sweet and heartfelt at the end. The spire itself shifts and changes around you to be more to your liking, and there are rooms within it dedicated to the hobbies you enjoy.

This gentleness is all hidden when you're together, though. Only showing itself when you can't look him in the eyes and reject him. He can't bring himself to let you in, he's scared of that rejection. He wants you to think he's powerful and amazing, so allowing you to see just how much he adores you would be terrible. What if you don't like him at his weakest? What if you realize that you could do better than him? What if you meet Pure Vanilla and you realize how much better he is? What if you leave him? Oh, it tears him apart.

So, he can't let you in. He'll put on a performance so dazzling it'll distract you from how much his heart aches when he sees you. He'll prove that he really does love you through flowery words and fantastical shows, anything to hide how much he adores you. Even when you try to get him to connect, he'll brush it off for fear of you not accepting him as he is. He can't handle you rejecting him, not after all he's done to keep you at his side, not after how hard he's fallen in love with you.

Post Episode 8

This is where we see Shadow Milk Cookie open up a lot more to you. After the so-called betrayal of Truthless Recluse, and his being incredibly emotionally vulnerable from Compassionate Pure Vanilla's offer for friendship, he's now forced with the problem of you knowing him. You saw that raw vulnerability, the loneliness that aches deep within his dough and infects his very being with a sickness he cannot cure.

No matter how much he puts on airs, he cannot avoid you knowing him now. He has nothing to hide behind anymore, you saw how much he craves connection and care, there's no going back from that. He briefly considers leaving you, but the idea of losing you sends shivers up his back, so he dismisses the thought as quickly as it comes. He may actively avoid you for a little while, but if you are patient and kind to him, he won't be able to hide for long.

Showing him that you still feel the same way by continuing your regular shows of affection is a huge relief to him. He truly expects you to think less of him now that you've seen that side of him, but you don't. It's rather odd to a cookie like him, who spent his entire existence being worshiped, revered, and feared. He assumes when you see him weak you will despise him - that you were only there for all the grandiose gifts and displays. He doesn't consider the thought that you have fallen in love with him. That you consider him yours as much as he considers you his.

It takes him a bit, but he begins to pick up where you left off. This time, though, he's more... gentle about everything. You get to take the lead around this time, and as odd as it is for him, it's cathartic to be taken care of for once. He can let his walls down and relax while you stroke his hair and hold him close to your chest. You kiss across his face with reverence that not even the most loyal of his followers could ever begin to replicate.

You love him.

He becomes addicted to the feeling, your affections being something he craves with a hunger he'd never felt before. It takes a bit for him to come to you for it, so usually you'll have to initiate it, but he melts into your hands so easily. It's pathetic how much hold a little cookie like you had over a god like him, but when you're humming sweet words at him he can't bring himself to care too much. (He will huff and puff if any of the other beasts give him shit for it, telling them off like a angry child.)

All of those hidden affections of his become much more obvious to you as time goes on. He's a bit awkward with it because he's never really been so open with any cookie before, but it's charming the way he tries so hard to be genuine with you.

You get to hear those sweet words of love from him directly, earnestly said while he holds your hand in an iron-tight grip. He gives you those heartfelt gifts by hand, telling you all about how he worked so hard to get it for you and how much care went into it. He leads you around places himself, preferring to be by your side than guiding you from a safe distance. Even the way he holds you is different, much more adoring than before. It's a kind of care he hadn't really shown you before, more considerate of what you might want rather than what he believes you might want.

And, of course, he kisses you now. Very frequently. He still does do it to fluster you at times, but less than he did before. Now every kiss has a purpose behind it, a means of displaying his affection for you. They're soft and loving, full of emotion.

Something that carries over consistently is the watching. He keeps an eye on you at all times, regardless of where you're at. Since you're no longer in the spire, there's more risk so he wants to ensure your safety. Even if you're with another beast or with Black Sapphire or Candy Apple, he's watching you anxiously.

Now if you acknowledge the eyes, they'll react to you. Before they usually just continued watching, but now they'll squint and shift excitedly at your attention. Sometimes he'll even drop flowers or a little plushie at your feet while the eye seems to grin at you with glee. You can kiss them, if you'd like -- they're warm and soft but they don't feel like eyes. If you do so the pupil with dart around nervously, then it'll pop out of existence and arrange itself to another spot you can't easily fluster him at.

Still, though, they just watch you for the most part. Making sure you're safe and happy when he isn't around. He's a bit less obsessive about who you're spending your time with, though. He trusts that you won't leave him a lot more now, and no longer finds himself threatened by anyone (other than PV).

Bonus below

Now, as a mortal cookie in beast yeast, most things put you in danger. It's a tough environment to live in, and there are a lot of violent characters around that wouldn't care if you died or not. However, most cookies are aware of Shadow Milk Cookie's, shall we say, claim on you.

There are very few things that could actually threaten you, especially with Shadow Milk Cookie monitoring you so closely. He makes the environment around you safer, and he makes sure everyone knows that you are off-limits. Unfortunately he cannot control everything, though he really does try to.

If anything, anything ever puts you in actual danger, he is beside himself with worry and rage. Your soft and sweet dough is not made for battle and danger, regardless of what you might feel. It would take the witches themselves to stop him from tearing apart the lands to ensure your safety. And tear them apart he would. He would carve deep valleys into the ground for you, slice mountains to their base, and raze forests flat if it means you will be safe.

If it's a cookie? Some insignificant act or protest from a foolish mortal, deciding to use you to get his attention? Oh, they'll know hell.

Depending on how much damage they do the punishment will vary, but it won't be pleasant regardless. If they just take you away for a little while, he'll torture them. Ensuring the life they go back to is much harder for them to live through, but he won't kill them. They have to learn their lesson and live to tell the tale so no one is stupid enough to follow their example.

If they hurt you at all, they're dead. Shadow Milk normally makes a show out of any crumbling he does, but when you are involved? He doesn't waste time with any silly shows, they just crumble. No fanfare, no sparkle, just death. They don't deserve anything more than that, not when they've caused you hurt.

Ah, and if there is a threat to you -- silly or not -- he takes it very seriously. His monitoring will increase tenfold, and he does his best to keep you with him at all times. He will not take your safety lightly, not when he adores you so.

If there is a genuine threat to your life, he will do everything in his power to remove it. After the fact, he becomes much more obsessive of your safety. It's almost suffocating for a while, but if you express concern he'll ease up a bit. Though you can feel the anxiety in his body language and the way which he speaks.

[trampleddoves]

hi! i liked your free use blurb and I was wondering if you'd do it in the reverse where the reader could use spence?

s. r. blurb 3

contents: fem!reader, free use Spencer, slight dom/sub dynamics, MDNI

Dating a nerd who all but worships the ground you walk on has certain perks.

There are the more obvious ones: he does your taxes for fun (and by hand, like the most lovable troglodyte), he takes you to lovely dates that are somehow both exciting and—if you’re being completely honest—ever so slightly boring, he is an absolute gentleman. The type who walks by the street, and would bend down to tie your laces for you. 

Lesser known perks are as follows: he can recite books for you from memory—which comes in handy when you need something soft and soothing to lull you to sleep, he indulges in your little hyperfixations, and, lastly, he’s so completely desperate for you. Enough that a simple brush of your hand on his thigh has him stuttering and turning pink, the slightest pressure on his crotch sends him reeling. Certain clothes are his enemy—you wear red and there’s a tent in his pants. 

It seems only fitting for you to claim his cock whenever you want. He gets hard so quickly, you might as well take advantage of it, right?

Right.

And of course, Spencer Reid—perfect, loving, incredibly intelligent—says yes to being your free use boyfriend. 

Another perk of dating a nerd?

He has nothing else going for him outside of work. Granted, the BAU takes him away from you more often than not, but you simply see that as another opportunity. Just means when he’s back, you’re bouncing on his cock at every opportunity you can.

This weekend is no different. He’s been gone for four days, barely calls—he’s always been so bad at that—but being apart only heightens your need for him. Absence sharpens love after all, or whatever it is Shakespeare said. You’re sure Spencer knows it by heart, something beautiful and poetic, not the clumsy version you can recall. 

So he’s home after four long days, trying to play chess, and you’re splayed on his lap, your back to his chest, grinding your hips in slow, circular motions to relish the feeling of his cock stretching you out and filling you up after being unsatisfied for the past few days. 

He’s moaning. Everytime he reaches over to move a piece, you bounce on his lap to distract him, giggling at the quiver in his fingers when you clench your walls tightly around his pulsing length. You follow his hands, long fingers wrapping around a knight and moving it to take an opponent’s bishop. You start bouncing faster. 

“God, honey,” he groans, accidentally knocking over a pawn in the process.

“Need your safe word?”

“No no, just—I missed you so much.” he whimpers, burying his face into your neck. He begins to buck his hips up, meeting your thrusts.

You pause immediately, hands resting on his thighs. Not that it doesn’t feel good—it does, but the whole point of this is that he continues his activities while you use him. “Did I give you permission to fuck me, Spence?”

“No,” he whines. You smile when he stops moving obediently, face lifting from your neck, “I’m sorry.” He resumes the chess game, moving a rook to take the offensive knight from before.

“Good boy.” you reward him by grinding again, more up and down this time. Leaning back into him, you drag your wet cunt all over his cock, squeezing as you do. Like a good boy, he simply continues his chess game, but you grin triumphantly as his hands tremor even more. With a hum, you bring your fingers to your clit, rubbing quick circles on the swollen nub. “White’s check in three.”

“No way.” he gasps as your pace grows rougher, riding him in quick strokes, “I could have sworn—ah!”

You come undone around him, walls tightening to a nearly painful degree. Soft, breathy gasps leave your lips as you ride him through your climax, going lax and soft in his arms. He sighs, staring dumbly at the chess board in front of him. Understandably needy, but he can’t do much about it right now, that’s not his role. Not unless you give him permission. 

“You’ve been so good, baby,” the words come out a sweet little sigh, full of affection. You crawl off his lap, grinning as he turns his head and follows you with a gaze so full of longing it’s almost pitiful. You hum, settling on the couch beside him. Legs spread, an invitation. “Come and fuck me now, Spence, you deserve it.”

The last, perhaps least known perk of dating a nerd?

They’re amazing at fucking. Or, at least, Spencer Reid is. 

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 3

Later on, the rest of that day went about as smoothly as it could go. During the recording, the boys did become a bit more touchy but Natasha simply chalked it up to nerves. She fought the urge to smirk everytime one of them tried to allude to something sexual. She was perfect at playing dumb. As if she couldn't smell their wanton arousal. She knew she triggered something and had perfect and total control. So much for their loyalty to Gwi-Ma.

She bet that if she asked them to, they would give up all alliance with the so-called king. Watching as the boys got through their last lines, Natasha had food brought in so they could eat something after singing for so long. Abby and Baby were the first to attack the food but after minor scolding, made sure to leave some for the other three. “You boys sounded great in there.” Natasha complimented as she fixed a plate for Mystery who practically became attached to her hip. “Thank you Ms. Natasha. We're one step closer to our goal in taking down the hunters.” Jinu replied after taking a few bites of his food.

“Jinu lean forward.” Natasha responded. As he did so, his eyes widened as Natasha took a napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth clean. “There we go. Oh? What's up Mystery?” Natasha asked, turning her attention back to the other idol. “Hey um miss manager? When do we get what Romance got this morning huh?” Abby asked, huffing a bit. “I think we all behaved ourselves today. Don't we deserve a little reward too? How come you touched him?” Baby added. “I don't have to explain myself to you and if you keep asking about it, you won't get it. Eat. You have a photoshoot later.” Natasha replied unbothered.

That evening as the boys wrapped up the last of their photos, Mystery watched as Natasha typed away on her phone with a serious expression. She was talking to someone about something important for them. He loved that about her. She was always working. She always looked so busy. Like she completely had her shit together. He adored that about her. However, he also wished she would take a break every now and then.

“Alright boys. Time to go! Max, I expect those photos by Friday!” Natasha spoke while ushering the band out the doors and into their van. “I call shotgun!” Abby shouted as he practically launched himself into the passenger seat. “You had it on the way over here Abs, let someone else get the seat.” “Ugh fine!” He huffed as he moved to the back and Jinu climbed in the front. The drive home was silent save for the silent music playing in the background.

After arriving home, while everyone scrambled to get in Natasha's bed, still, she asked to speak to Abby alone in the living room. “I know you didn't want to give up your seat but you still did because I asked. I like when you boys listen to me.” She smiled as she led him to the couch and sat him down. “It makes me happy knowing that you respect me that much.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

Almost instantly, his arms were around her and bringing her down to his lap. “Do I get some lovin this time?” Natasha giggled slightly before nodding. “Yes you get one thing of your choice tonight.” The man wasted no time in choosing his reward. “I want your mouth on my cock. I need it Mistress… please~” He whined as he began to free his cock from the confines of his jeans. Looking down, Natasha smirked before pressing a quick kiss to his neck.

“You’re a big boy aren't you?” She then moved off his lap and settled on the floor in between his legs. “Nervous?” Abby chuckled. “Oh please. I've had bigger sweetheart.” Natasha sighed before leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of the large cock waiting to take sanctuary in her mouth. That was a lie. Natasha had her fair share of fun sure, but none of her past exploits were ever this well endowed. Taking the tip into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, her ears perked up at the heavy breaths Abby was starting to take.

Slowly but surely, she started to bob her head on the erection. Taking more and more of the cock until it almost filled her mouth completely. Save for a few inches at the base. “Oh f-fuck… you look so hot…” Now, at this point she would have smirked and made a comment about how desperate he sounded, but doing anything but trying to fit the rest of the cock down her throat was impossible. “Mm… oh yea… keep going…” Abby moaned as he watched Natasha suck his cock.

Although he was definitely enjoying himself, he was also physically fighting the urge to take the older demoness by her hair and fuck her throat. Not because he was worried about her, oh no. He knew she could handle it. It was his own safety he was worried for. Getting on her bad side was something that was not on his list for that evening. Suddenly, he began to moan louder and his grip on the couch tightened as his eyes watched Natasha quicken her movements.

Humming around his cock, creating vibrations that added to the pleasure. “Shit! Y-yes! Please! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Unable to resist anymore, Abby grabbed a fistful of Natasha's hair and began to fuck her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch causing her to deep throat him. “Fuck!! Mistress! Your throat feels so good! Your mouth! Mm! Mm! Fuck! So good!” The sounds of her wet mouth fueling his desire and urge to paint her throat white.

“Cumming! Oh shit! I'm cumming!! Yes! Yes! Mistress!! I'm cumming!” Looking up at the man, the moment Natasha's eyes met those of Abby's he immediately came down her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch once more. “Mistress!!! Mm! Fuck!!!” It didn't take long for the man to come down from his high after Natasha pulled away from his cock. “You alright? I-i didn't mean to get that crazy.”

Natasha only laughed and smiled before standing from her position and kissed his forehead. “I'm fine hun. Are you ok? I didn't think you could sound so…whiny.” She laughed as she watched the man groan before standing as well. “Put that away and get ready for bed. I'll join you shortly.” Natasha smiled before grabbing her phone and walking into the elevator. She then dialed a number, while the elevator descended.

“Natasha. I am pleased to hear from you. How are the boys settling in?” Gwi-Ma asked. “Fine. That's the only update you're getting from me, asshole. Don't contact me anymore.”

@prettygirlkiki

@rivainimermaid

Chapter 4

[rafeslvbug]

CHAPTER 3 - maybank!reader series

overflowing red cups. kooks and pogues mingling. night befallen, surrounded by a bonfire. the boneyard was one of the best places on the island.

jj and kie had run off somewhere. pope and cleo were sharing a drink, john b alone. standing to the side because you could glimpse sarah talking to rafe. both reserved in their own ways. something new, certainly strange.

you peered over heads, climbing onto higher logs to try and find cole. he couldn’t be hard to miss. every kook here had changed clothes, ditching their outfits for something more ‘pogue-like’ but when your eyes settle on the boy who looks more than lost you grin, hopping off the log and weaving through people to get to him.

“cole!” you exclaim, grabbing his attention. you hand him a red cup. he stares into it like there’s some foreign liquid in it, but holds it anyways.

“hey..this place is..” he looks around. on edge. surrounded by people like him but not quite the same.

“crazy? i know! you ever been before?” but you already know the answer - no. of course he hasn’t, he’s staring at it with a mix of fascination and concern.

“no, no, but hey i mean..looks fun!”

“yeah, it does!” you lead him by the hand away from the life of the main party, somewhere he can relax in. away from others.

you can see how his shoulders stop tensing. the little breath he exhales. his back turned towards the party, him facing the sea. and you.

“you certainly dressed for the occasion,” you murmur, looking down at the polo he’s buttoned all the way. he does too, flustered, even more so when he sees your outfit. tiny black shorts, flowy top cutting off and showing your stomach.

“i wasn’t sure of the dress code,” he smiles sheepishly.

“there is none, not really,” fingers travel upwards, deftly undoing his top button before you mutter, “maybe just a little hot for this.”

“yeah..bad choice, huh?” he tilts his head down to look at you and you lift yours up to him.

then you shrug.

walking off, leaving him flushed and trailing after you.

“are you okay?” cole pulls away, hands still firmly on your hips, on your bed.

“no yeah, just..someone’s texting me i think,” you murmur, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. cole draws you down so that you’re no longer straddling him, now wrapped in one arm beside him as you check your messages.

this had become daily routine. cole coming down to your house now that luke was gone again, make out sessions before jj could get home and chase him out. the bonfire had proven that cole could, in fact, get used to this life. get used to you.

at the country club you’d serve his family all the time, shy waves across the golf course and quick glances while you waitered. in truth, it was much a more subtle relationship than you were used to. keeping it under wraps even when jj knew you were dating him, so there was little to fear. perhaps it was the whispers that went around that made you both a bit discreet at times.

sofia: you free?? that daycare place my little brother goes to needs some volunteers for clean up! they’ll pay double the country club day shift!!

you bite your lip, not wanting to ditch cole but the money would be good. too good. something you and jj needed.

“cole..i think i have to go.”

he furrows his brows, looking down at you, “huh? why?”

“there’s a daycare shift today..and i need the money,” you sigh, forcing yourself up.

“you’re serious?”

“i’m sorry..”

he exhales, brushing his hair back before saying, “you’ve done this three times this week.”

“i know, but..”

“it’s important..okay, fine, want me to walk you down?” he swings his legs off the bed, fixing his shirt collar. he’s slightly frustrated, you can tell. you can understand it, too. but you really do need the money.

“yes please,” you murmur, accepting his hand and letting him lead you down to the daycare place.

you and sofia drag black bags around the ground, mopping the floors, picking up rubbish, running through bottles of detergent.

“how did they let it get this bad?” the mess around you is consuming. rubbish crushing under your feet. mop buckets quickly drained.

“they had a party..short staff,” sofia scratches the back of her head, evidently as disgusted as you are. the things you do for money.

“so..” she trails, prompting a conversation to fill the silence of picking up litter and wiping down messes.

“so.?”

“you and cole?” she grins, though it quickly fades when she discovers a mound of old wet wipes stuffed in the corner of one of the bookshelves.

“sofia..” you groan, scrubbing down tables with food dried on it.

“i’m just saying! i’ve seen you guys!”

“everyone’s seen us..” you mumble. cole had left after dropping you off to go to some sports club of his, evidently annoyed that he couldn’t spend more time with you. a recurring issue, it seemed.

“you’re cute,” she smiles but falters at your not so enthusiastic hum. “uh oh..not cute?”

“no no! we are, we..are.” you sigh, peeling off your gloves, throwing them in the black bag.

“but?” when sofia knew something was wrong she’d stop at nothing to find it out. luckily, today she needed little probing - you had learnt that it was futile to fight her.

“he doesn’t like that i work as much..”

“but you have to!”

“yeah but i’ve ditched him a few times..”

sofia frowns. “i get it. i had to do that..it’s sort of just understanding. didn’t he drop you off?”

“yeah.”

“so he can’t have that much of an issue!”

“hm i guess so,” you tug on a new pair of the yellow gloves, brushing off crumbs on the ground into the bag.

but you feel anything but.

maybe it’s a contributing factor that you guys are so quiet about your relationship that doesn’t sit right with you. you’re loud. you love loudly. this is more like hushed tones and secrets. but all relationships are different, you just need to adjust..right?

you’re carrying the bags outside, one in each hand towards the dumpster. then one’s taken from you. whipping around, you’re startled to see rafe there, swinging the bag in his hand.

“what are you-“

“want me to carry the other one?” he holds his hand out for the other bag but you simply shake your head. recently, he’s been less of an ass. rekindling things with sarah means him trying to make amends with her friends. “jesus just let me take it,” he sighs, already annoyed from a minute interaction. not waiting for a response, he snatches the other bag from your hand, walking towards the dumpster.

“hmph, i don’t like this,” you say decidedly, following him.

“no i don’t like it either..” he mumbles, “but sarah wants me to get along with you guys.”

“you’ve been a jerk up until like two weeks ago,” you state. rafe throws the bags inside. turns to face you and gives you a look to suggest he could still be a jerk right now if you don’t just stop talking.

“what can i say? i’m trying to be better,” he drawls, dusting his hands off.

“why?”

“what?” he scowls, narrowing his eyes at you, slightly incredulous that you’re so skeptical.

“what epiphany did you have to make you realise you wanted to be buddies with sarah?”

“i’ve always–“ he sighs. pinching the bridge of his nose. “if you had a falling out with jj..would you still love him?”

you pause. somehow, no one had ever considered that deep inside of rafe there would just be a brother. one who missed his sister. “i guess so,” you murmured.

“right well, there you go.”

a few beats of silence passes between the two of you.

one.

two.

three.

then, “am i your first target?”

“target?” he repeats, “why’d you make me talking to you sound so horrible?”

you shrug, “okay so bad wording. but– still..you get the point.”

his nostrils flare. you’re sure you can see the emerging headache. “yes..you’re my first ‘target’ as you so nicely put it. you gonna make it easy for me?”

“have i ever?” you furrow your brows, waving bye as you turn back towards the daycare. sarah rekindling with rafe was great..for her. kie would probably yell stranger danger if he ever got close, jj, pope and john b would all throw hands and cleo wouldn’t even give him the time of the day before she was shooing him off. you didn’t want to entertain him either, quite frankly.

8:56pm

just getting back home, you’ve nearly bitten your lip raw, unsure on what to do about cole. picking up your phone. staring at his contact. staring at the empty chat. finger hovering over the text box.

you: cole?

cole: hey

you: sorry the work went over a bit

cole: it’s okay

you: we can hang out tomorrow?

cole: no impromptu work gigs?

the question holds more weight than cole will let on. no more leaving him. no more ditching him for a job. actually spending a full day with him.

you: no..i hope not

cole: 😭 okay then

you: i’m sorry, again

cole: it’s not an issue. don’t worry

you: are you sure??

cole: 10000%

you: goodnightt

cole: goodnight

10:32pm

sarah: did you speak to my brother today

you sighed as your phone lit up, glancing at it from the bedside table. of course she knew. of course she was checking up on you or him, you supposed.

you: yes, unfortunately.

sarah: so??

you: he wasn’t a major dick?

sarah: give him a chance!! please

you: i don’t want to. he’s annoyed me far too many times at the country club, or in general. and jj hates him

sarah: which is why i need you!

throwing your head back onto the pillow, breathing out a huff. of course she was appealing to you for help.

sarah: jj won’t ever like him, unless you can convince him!

sarah: or you can convince kie who can convince himm

you: that would include me having to like him first.

sarah: okay well maybe not like..but you could..idk try and tolerate him?

you: he’s going to try and talk to me again?

sarah: yep.

you: why did you make him do this?

sarah: you’re my friends, he’s done as much wrong to me as he has you guys! it’s how he’s gonna make amends, and i want to be on good terms with my brother

sarah: i’m begging you

sarah: pretty please

sarah: with a cherry on top

staring at the message for a minute, disgusted by the whole prospect. it sounds hellish. a walking nightmare.

you: fine.

but it’s for sarah.

taglist: @starkeyjoseph @rafesbabygirlx @slut-4-rafey @lanaslushworld @littlelamy @rain-likes-purple @sunny1616 @csturnioloswifey @silkylovey @supasolaa @octoberbxbyy @rafeobx @jamesbeaufortismylife @vanessa-rafesgirl @bambigirl10 @f4sh10n-m4v3n @amelialovesrafe @letstryagaintomorrow @athenabarnes

[kianamaiart]

Hello your magical girl story looks really intriguing, the premise feels very creative, the art style is simple but good with its own identity, and the characters seem to be fleshed out with depth, personality, and backstory. In short, I love it, and I do have a few questions.

One: Is the story character driven, story driven, or something else

Two: Is the story rated G, PG, PG-13, or something else

Three: Would the story be a web comic, web show, or something else

Four: Will there be a lot of lore and world building, yes or no

Five: what other inspirations did you have for the story's characters, plot, and art style

Six: What humor do you use for the story

I'm only asking these questions out of curiosity. This is just because I love your story, and would like to know more about.

So please be free to not answer all the questions if you want. I'm also fine if you ignore this ask. so please, no pressure.

At the end of the day, please have fun, relax, work hard, take your time, and have a nice day.

I'm so glad! Thanks so much for your interest <3

Character driven (always)

PG/PG-13

Dunno! I've been reached out to already for a few opportunities but right now, I'm just trying to have fun with it and keep it mine until I feel like the idea is fully realized and ready for something bigger. Right now, I'm shooting to make a lil pilot animatic mostly on my own with help from a few friends

Depends on what you mean by a lot but I'd say a soft yes

For Aika, just generally other anime protagonists from shoujo and shonen. I feel like when you're doing a spin on something you do have to rely on the tropes from the genre at least a little bit. For Zira, Toko Fukawa was the jumping off point but they're very different. They're also both based off of aspects of myself (I feel like most artists do this with their ocs tho). Style and story-wise, I was definitely looking at Doremi and Panty&Stocking. That chunky cute look that's distinctly anime but takes some notes from Western cartoons. But mine's flipped where it's more based on my own style from working in Western animation but then having anime influence. And story-wise I like how they're more episodic with an underlying story. The magical girl stuff is more a backdrop that helps the story move forward and enhances the slice of life stuff that's being focused on.

I'm not sure what kind of humor to say other than my own? But my sense of humor has been shaped by Big City Greens (obviously) Adventure Time, Jimmy Neutron, Bob's Burgers, Smiling Friends and many other things but hopefully that gives you the gist

[hyruling]

hello 👀♥️ for prompts, free choice out of the following (can be combined too): 3, 67, 68, 70

3. “Could you be happy, here, with me?” & 67. “Don’t look at me like that.”

��

The sun hangs low in the sky, rays throwing shadows across the trees and vegetation in the field beyond the house. Buck’s beer sweats in the heat, condensation running from palm to elbow and staining the wood under his arm.

He doesn’t mind. It’s nice in the thick Texas heat, sweltering even this late in the day. Even better, Eddie is next to him, the two of them swaying on an actual porch swing that Buck helped him install only a few hours ago. He’d spent all day teasing him for being a cliche, but he can’t find it in himself to poke fun at him now. It’s nice, sitting on the porch after a hard days work, watching the sun set in shades of soft orange and brilliant pink — taking in the sounds of humming cicadas, the whoosh of cars passing by. The occasional horn blaring from the train a few miles from Eddie’s house.

And then there’s Eddie himself, lit up golden and beautiful in the sun, a contented smile curled on his face. If this were a movie, and if Buck wasn’t already painfully aware of his feelings for him, this would certainly seal his fate. The sight of Eddie at dusk is devastating, otherworldly.

Or maybe he’s just in love.

“Gotta say,” Buck says, breaking the comfortable silence at last. “I see the appeal now.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, smiling over his shoulder at Buck. He lifts his bottle to his lips, and Buck holds his breath watching him take a long pull.

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. “The splinters and bashed thumbnail were all worth it for this. Good old southern porch-sittin’.”

Eddie hums and glances down at Buck’s left hand. Buck watches him reach over and brush his own thumb over Buck’s bruised finger, and Buck has to remind himself to exhale.

“Still hurt?” Eddie asks, eyes fixed on his thumb pressing gently against Buck’s.

“Nah,” Buck says. He wonders if Eddie would keep touching him if he said yes. “Not so much anymore, the ice did the trick.”

“Don’t know why I assumed you’d be able to handle a hammer. Should’ve known after the bathroom sink incident,” Eddie teases, taking his hand away at last.

“That was a wrench, and it got the job done, didn’t it?” Buck says.

Eddie barks out a laugh. “If you say so. We’ll see how well it works when Chris brushes his teeth later.”

Buck snorts, and they share a look — of mingled relief and joy — that Chris is where he belongs, back in a familiar routine that they both helped establish.

Buck had booked a ticket almost the minute that Eddie told him he was back home — when it no longer felt like overstepping, when Chris had not-so-subtly hinted at missing him and Eddie had not-so-subtly mentioned that Southwest was having a sale. And Chris throwing himself into Buck’s arms at the airport after nearly a year apart definitely ranks among the top ten moments of his life.

“Sucks that tomorrow is my last day,” Buck says with a heavy sigh and a sip of beer. “Should’ve put this up day one. I’ll be missing out on some major porch time back home.”

“You could stay longer,” Eddie suggests with a half-smile aimed at his lap. He twirls his bottle around, presses it into the knee of his jeans until a ring of water appears in the fabric. “You’re welcome for as long as you want.”

“Yeah,” Buck says noncommittally.

He feels Eddie’s eyes on him, burning into his temple like a brand, and keeps his own trained on the horizon. He’s spent three perfect days here, full of home repairs and dinners and exploration of Eddie’s hometown; of movies and video games and a trip to the planetarium. He hasn’t wasted a moment, soaking up every second he has with Eddie and Chris while he can. The idea of having to board a plane roughly forty hours from now and leave them again makes him nauseous. Makes him want to fuse himself into the very foundations of the house so he can’t leave.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Buck says, eyes still fixed on the sky.

“Like what?” Eddie asks. Buck can feel him still looking.

Buck squints against the light of the dying sun, against the tears pricking at his eyes. “The way you’ve been looking all weekend. Like — like you want me to…”

“Want you to what?” Eddie asks, so soft he almost can’t hear him over the cicadas.

Buck drinks, to buy himself time. It isn’t enough.

“To stay.”

It stretches, the silence — taut like a rubber band ready to snap. Eddie watches him, and Buck watches the sun. He blinks and the imprint of light is still there, burning and blotting out Eddie from his peripheral, but he can still feel him.

It’s the way he’s looked at him since he arrived — he can feel it in the way his skin prickles with it. He’s felt Eddie’s eyes on him the entire weekend, and while Buck usually craves Eddie’s undivided attention, there’s something different about the way he does it now. A longing Buck recognizes from the mirror, from photos — the way he looks at Eddie reflected back at him. A curve to his smile that Buck rarely sees directed at anyone else; a warmth in his eyes that sets his blood on fire.

“I always want you to stay,” Eddie admits, hushed in the thick silence.

Buck swallows hard and doesn’t reply. He takes another sip of beer, lukewarm now and bitter on his tongue.

“Buck. Look at me?”

Buck sighs. He closes his eyes briefly, and the light sticks behind his eyelids. It’s still there when he looks at Eddie, distorting his features into something unreadable.

“Hi,” Eddie says when their eyes meet, and Buck smiles despite himself.

“Hi,” he echoes.

Eddie’s mouth twists, then relaxes. He asks, “What are you thinking?”

Buck’s eyes clear, and he can see the same smile that he has privately come to think of as his. A piece of Eddie that belonged only to him. The one that sparks a dangerous flicker of hope in his chest.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Eddie says, knocking his bare shoulder against Buck’s. He keeps it there, presses their over-warm skin together. It sticks slightly in the humidity, and he has the insane urge to superglue himself to Eddie’s side.

“I’m thinking it’s hot as shit out here,” Buck says, and Eddie huffs out a laugh.

“It’s only April, this is nothing. You’ve been in Cali too long.”

“Maybe.”

“What else?”

Eddie nudges him again as he speaks and takes a swig of his beer. Buck watches his throat as he swallows, watches the droplets drip down his fingers and feels too warm. A drop of sweat trickles down his temple and Eddie’s eyes catch it, follow it down until it disappears in the neck of Buck’s tank.

“I’m thinking I don’t want to leave,” Buck admits, and Eddie’s eyes snap back up to his. “I’m thinking none of this is fucking fair, and that I must have pissed someone important off.”

Eddie smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice is hoarse when he says, “Yeah. They’re not too happy with me either, I think.”

Eddie looks down at their laps, hand reaching out to touch Buck’s injured finger. He wraps his fingers around the digit, pushes gently at the bruise, barely enough to hurt. The throb of it ricochets up his arm and into his ribs anyway, makes him reckless.

“And I’m thinking — I’m thinking about how badly I want to kiss you.”

Eddie pauses, goes completely still. He glances up, eyes falling to Buck’s mouth for a split second before meeting his eye, and Buck knows he isn’t misreading this. His heart sits like a stone in his throat anyway.

“But I’m also thinking that I can’t lose you. Not again.”

“You won’t lose me,” Eddie is quick to say. His fingers twine with Buck’s, squeeze hard. “You haven’t lost me. I’m right here.”

“For now.”

Eddie exhales shakily, the warmth of it hitting Buck’s cheek, and he just looks at Buck — the same way he has all weekend, the same way he has for years. The same way that Buck knows he looks at him, has always looked at him. The way that they were both too scared or too deep in denial to face until separation forced their hand.

“Buck are you,” Eddie starts, stops. He lifts his chin and looks Buck square in the eye. “Could you be happy, here? With me?”

“That’s — Eddie, I can’t,” Buck says. It feels like gravel in an open wound, like razors in his throat. “Don’t ask me that.”

“Why? You don’t have a monopoly on big sweeping confessions, you know.”

“Is that what this is?” Buck asks. He’s dizzy, even sitting down — lightheaded from the heat and the alcohol and Eddie, always Eddie.

In response, Eddie tilts forward and brushes his lips over Buck’s. A ghost of a kiss, the briefest taste of tangy sweat and beer and skin before Eddie pulls away, too soon for Buck’s heart to even finish skipping in his chest.

“Yeah, Buck,” Eddie says softly, still close enough Buck can almost feel the vibration of it against his mouth.

Buck drops his chin, presses forehead against Eddie’s. He tucks the empty beer bottle between his legs and cradles Eddie’s face in his hands, thumbs skating along his jaw. Eddie shivers at the shock of his cold fingertips, slants his chin up, and then Buck is kissing him properly.

He takes his time, savoring each drag of Eddie’s lips, the way he twists closer and brushes their noses together. Eddie lifts his own chilled hand to Buck’s neck, sends a cold shock into his heated skin, then trails it down to fist in Buck’s shirt. Buck nips at his lower lip, soothes over it with his tongue, and Eddie makes a soft sound that Buck knows he’ll hear in his dreams.

Buck pulls away to breathe before they end up flipping the swing over — he’s not sure he trusts his handiwork well enough to support climbing into Eddie’s lap. Eddie has a faint flush on his cheeks, eyes tracking over Buck’s face before meeting his eyes.

“Yes,” Buck answers him. Eddie furrows his brows, question long forgotten, and Buck can’t help but chuckle. “Yes, Eddie. I could be happy with you anywhere.”

Eddie smiles and tucks his hand back in Buck’s. “But.”

“But,” Buck echoes, and says nothing else. Eddie already knows.

Eddie nods and rests his head on Buck’s shoulder, a comforting weight that settles his racing heart. They watch the sun sink lower, Eddie’s thumb tracing patterns on the inside of Buck’s wrist. His hair sticks to Buck’s sweaty neck, and they listen to the music of the fading day.

“I can’t promise anything,” Eddie says when the sun has almost disappeared. “It’s — it’s delicate, right now. With Chris. I think he’s ready to come home, but until he says something…”

El Paso is beautiful in twilight; the heat starts to give way to the evening chill at last. Buck shivers and presses a kiss to Eddie’s hair. “I know. I can’t either.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

Eddie looks up, and Buck swears his heart stops at the way Eddie smiles at him — arresting even from the weird angle.

“Buck, I—”

“Don’t say it back,” Buck says. Eddie frowns and straightens up to face him properly, and then Buck is laughing at the look on his face.

“Don’t say it back yet,” Buck corrects, smoothing over a frown line with his thumb. “Not until — until this can be real.”

“But I do,” Eddie says, a bit petulant, and Buck gets honest to god butterflies about it. “And this is real. To me, anyway. You’re not just — some fling.”

“I know. It is to me too, baby, trust me,” Buck says, and Eddie visibly softens. “But I’ve wanted you for so long, I just — I can’t have you halfway. You’re forever for me, and I want — I have to do this right. And if you can’t come to me, if this place is your new forever, then — then wait for me. Please.”

Eddie stares for a long time, expression unreadable. Buck’s heart beats wildly, irregular enough that he might need Eddie’s defibrillator to shock it back into rhythm.

And then Eddie sighs and drops his forehead to Buck’s shoulder. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie squeezes his hand. “Of course. As long as it takes, I — yes.”

“Okay,” Buck says, and drops a kiss to Eddie’s brow.

“I do, though.”

Buck huffs, smiling against Eddie’s skin. “I know.”

“Don’t make me wait forever, Buckley.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Eddie lifts his head, presses a soft kiss to Buck’s mouth, and says, “We still have tomorrow.”

Eddie settles back into the crook of his neck, and Buck wraps an arm around his shoulders, tugs him close.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

—

prompts ❣️

[imaginespazzi]

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance. 

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away. 

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night. 

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily. 

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved. 

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else. 

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone. 

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?” 

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet. 

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late. 

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard. 

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave. 

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay. 

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months. 

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question. 

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away. 

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter. 

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart. 

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine. 

Until she’s not. 

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine. 

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck. 

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down. 

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out. 

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion. 

 “I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore. 

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers. 

“What?” 

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home. 

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind. 

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight. 

April 2033 

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age. 

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word. 

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her. 

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen. 

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother. 

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes. 

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room. 

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it. 

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse. 

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too. 

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever. 

“Why would this be about Clémence?” 

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again. 

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown. 

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen. 

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks. 

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her. 

“Hey,” she whispers. 

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?” 

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029 

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave. 

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off. 

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had. 

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years. 

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen. 

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown. 

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again. 

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it. 

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp. 

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could,  “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze. 

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever. 

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too. 

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back. 

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk. 

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug. 

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face. 

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs. 

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests. 

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women. 

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins. 

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking. 

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world. 

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette. 

“Clém-” Azzi sighs. 

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home. 

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand. 

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence. 

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip. 

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless. 

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up. 

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly. 

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently. 

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns. 

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air. 

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door. 

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles. 

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand. 

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally. 

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow. 

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously. 

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much. 

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound. 

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells. 

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right. 

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi. 

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first. 

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder. 

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs. 

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice. 

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

[vettelsvee]

Hear me out- (for the seb teacher fic you mentioned) student favorite science dork seb x student favorite fun history teacher reader. Their shared students ship the hell out of them and it's revealed that they've been together for like 2 years. 🩷🩷✨️✨️

THE SECRETS OF US | Sebastian Vettel

High School Science Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x High School History Teacher!Reader ↳ Teacher AU ⋆ Part of CLASSROOM GOSSIPS

SUMMARY: Seb, the dorky cool Science teacher and you, the also cool History teacher, are truly shipped by your shared students. You're way too obvious, but they can see all the signs to the point you end up having to tell them that you've been secretly dating each other for 5 years ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Hope you like it anon! 💖

WORD COUNT: 2969

WARNING: Curse words, sexual intimate jokes between Seb and you (established relationship guys!), mentions of oral sex (female receiving) and pregnancy

TAGLIST: @koalapastries @blushmimi @herdetectivetheorist

VEE'S NOTES: Haven't written Teacher!Seb in a while and honestly, I missed it a lot! Writing Teacher!Seb fics has become my favourite thing in the world and I'm already planning a whole Teacher!Seb series. Also, I'm gonna start focusing on writing AUs since I absolutely love them, so feel free to give me your opinions in this! Hope you're doing great (or better than I am), and hope you like this one too! Remember that comments and reblogs are truly appreciated <3 ↳ TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

While students at Berlin Brandenburg International School constantly worked to get the best grades possible and secure a bright future, there was something they dedicated even more time to: figuring out whether Mr. Vettel and Ms. Y/L/N were secretly dating.

The truth was that you and Seb being together was an open secret. Though it hadn’t been confirmed, conspiracy theories spread from class to class, reaching everyone from the youngest students to those just months away from graduating. Saying that everyone shipped you two was an understatement, especially when there was plenty of evidence suggesting that maybe, just maybe, you were more than just coworkers or even friends.

Seb was the Physics and Chemistry teacher every student wished they had, even those who hated science. While Seb thrived on calculations and a logical mindset, you were the complete opposite, you lived to tell stories from the past and sometimes even the future. Like Seb, your goal was to make your students interested in your subject, even if it was considered… well, quite boring.

The truth was that you were quite different, yet you were always together, finding any moment, any excuse, to exchange even a simple “hello." Even your classrooms were next to each other, despite belonging to entirely different departments.

And that closeness, that understanding between you two, was because you had been dating for nearly three years… and you were even engaged.

The problem? No one, not even the other faculty members, knew… or at least, they didn’t until you started being less careful with your secret, thinking that no one suspected anything, only for the exact opposite to happen.

The first problem? The sweater incident.

It was a day like any other. You and Seb arrived at school together and, as always, went to your respective classes not before sneaking a quick kiss in the teachers' lounge, making sure no one was around.

Your first class of the day was with your senior students, and you knew it would be a tough lesson because you had to teach them about World War II, a topic they often struggled to grasp. You began writing outlines on the board as your students trickled in. You greeted them and continued with your task, trying to ignore their murmurs until their whispers grew loud enough that you had no choice but to turn around.

When you did, they were all staring at you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as if they had seen a ghost.

"Is something wrong, guys?" you asked curiously.

No one answered.

Emma, one of the most outspoken students in your class, was the one who finally broke the silence. She raised her hand hesitantly, and when you nodded at her to speak, she did:

"Ms. Y/L/N…" she began, uncertain. "It’s just that… your sweater…"

You frowned and glanced down at your clothing. Yes, it was a navy-blue sweater, one you had worn quite often over the Christmas holidays, and one that had quickly become your favorite ever since…

As soon as it hit you, your eyes darted to the sleeves. The initials “SV” were perfectly embroidered in red.

Panic set in immediately when you realized you were wearing the exact same sweater you had embroidered and gifted Seb for Christmas, the one he had lent you a few days later when you went for a walk together, and that you had since claimed as your own.

“Oh, well…” You let out a nervous laugh. Crossing your arms, you began pacing around the classroom, pretending to check your notes to start the lesson. “It must have been a mistake. It’s probably my dad’s, or my—”

“But Ms. Y/L/N,” another student, Oliver, much more mischievous than Emma and well-versed in getting information out of people, interrupted with a sly grin. “SV just so happens to be Mr. Vettel’s initials, right? You know… Sebastian… Vettel…”

"What?" You let out a sharp but brief squeal, loud enough to make even the distracted students pay attention. "No way, no, no… That’s not what it means."

"Then why was Mr. Vettel wearing it yesterday?" Sophie, another student, added with a teasing smile and an amused glint in her eyes. "Do you two go shopping for clothes together now, or do you just share them?"

“Are you wearing his sweatshirt because you live together?!”

“Are you wearing it because you're pregnant?! Are you pregnant with Mr. Vettel’s baby?!”

The murmurs in the class grew louder. You tried to speak, but couldn't; you made noise with the chalkboard erasers, the markers, the class bell, and even shouted, but nothing could make your students quiet down once and for all.

Finally, you walked up to the still-open classroom door and slammed it shut, startling all the teenagers who would spend the next hour with you, making them go silent immediately.

Even Seb, who was in the classroom across from yours, peeked out to see what was going on. You simply leaned your face against the small glass window in the door and murmured a "Nothing, I’ll tell you later," which he didn’t understand, but responded by blowing you a kiss and winking, making you blush more than you probably already were.

“None of that, guys!” you said once you managed, or at least tried, to regain your composure. “Now, get your stuff out. Let's start the class, we've wasted enough time…”

You turned around and continued writing the outline on the board, but you knew that the small chatter still going on in the class was just the beginning of not only a day but a very hectic week until your students figured out what was really going on between their two favorite teachers.

You sighed, tried to stay calm, and prayed that things wouldn’t escalate.

However, you didn’t realize that this was just the beginning.

A few weeks later, when you had already told Seb about the incident you had in class with his sweatshirt, and he told you that you were forgetful and absent-minded (which was true), he started being even more careful. The kisses you once shared in the teachers’ lounge were now exchanged in the car, well before entering the school, making sure a thousand times that no one was around to see you.

Seb and you, but mostly him, denied any kind of gossip that not only your "adoptive children," as your students referred to you both, were spreading, but you also had to do it with your colleagues until, well… they told you to stop hiding that you were together because it was obvious, but they’d help you keep the secret with the rest of the students.

Although, well, the main problem in keeping it a secret was you and your slip-ups.

The next problem happened during a break.

Normally, each teacher had a routine depending on whether they had to supervise the break or not. That day, it was your turn to be in the staff room, and Seb was on duty, so when you walked in and saw his coffee cup, you didn’t hesitate to take it and take a sip, leaving a small kiss mark on it, making your lipstick perfectly visible.

What surprised you was that, when you looked in one corner of the room, two of the best final-year students in Sebastian’s Chemistry class were there, with their notebooks open, filled with exercises… and with Seb himself.

“Hey, guys…” you said shyly, playing with your hair.

The students said nothing, and neither did Seb.

Instead, your fiancé simply looked at you, gave you a small smile, and made his students focus back on the exercises they were working on, while he couldn’t stop shaking his head and quietly laughing.

“Did you see that, Jason?” you heard Seb's student ask his classmate while you were preparing photocopies and Seb had gone to the bathroom.

“She didn’t even flinch!” said the boy. “And Mr. Vettel... Oh my God, Anna, he just looked at her and smiled like an idiot.”

“And she blushed like crazy! And let me tell you, it’s pretty strange for someone to drink from your coffee, especially when you’re just coworkers. And on top of that, Ms. Y/L/N left a kiss on his coffee cup, the same one he always uses and loves! She probably gave it to him and…”

“Wait, wait…” Anna interrupted. “What are you saying? Are you implying that they’re…”

“At least they live together. I’m convinced, Anna.”

You decided to stop listening and almost ran out of the staff room, heading toward your class, when you bumped into Seb.

You tried to ignore him, but much to your dismay, he gently grabbed your arm and forced you to stop.

“Y/N…”

His blue eyes were fixed on you. He hadn’t said anything more than your name, but you knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Yeah, okay, got it…” you replied, succumbing to the look he was giving you, which was far from friendly. “We’re just coworkers, Mr. Vettel,” you emphasized the last part.

“You know you don’t need to say that here, Y/N. For you I’m Sebastian, your coworker,” he replied with a playful tone. Then, he leaned close to your ear, making sure once again that no one was watching, and spoke. “Although I wouldn’t mind if you called me Mr. Vettel in bed while I’m eating you out…”

“Okay, okay, enough, stoooooop it!” you yelled, flustered, as you pulled away from him and continued on your way. Seb, however, couldn’t stop watching you move from side to side, with an angry stride, holding onto the folder where you always carried a million different photocopies that made it impossible for you to find the one you wanted.

Weeks passed, and so did the rumors. Now that the other teachers at the school knew not only that you were a couple, but also engaged, they helped you quite a bit to silence the gossip surrounding you both.

The only thing you could hear in the hallways, classrooms, and even at parent meetings was how much your students shipped you two (with ship names included). Months had passed since they caught you wearing Seb’s sweatshirt in class, and although you’d had a few more slip-ups (like calling Seb “Sebu” in the middle of class, something he hated but loved hearing from you, or talking about your weekend plans when you thought your students weren’t listening), the talk about you two and the secret you seemed to share never stopped.

The climax of it all, much to your dismay, happened during one of the end-of-year field trips.

It happened at a museum in Berlin, specifically in the Medieval section. You were so focused on explaining the pieces your students were looking at, and relating them to the material you had covered in class, that you moved around so much, glancing at Seb every now and then, who had decided to accompany you “so you wouldn’t be alone,” that you didn’t notice the irregular shape of the floor right behind you.

It was then that you took a step back and twisted your ankle, falling to the ground suddenly while your explanation was interrupted by a scream that alarmed both your students and your fiancé.

“Y/N!” Seb shouted as soon as he saw you, running toward where you were.

Your students held their breath, not so much because of the accident, but because of the scene they were witnessing right in front of them.

Seb knelt down in front of you, going straight for your right ankle, which was clearly more swollen than normal.

“Are you okay, love?”

The word love was a whisper, but not soft enough one for your students not to hear.

Obviously, they began to make small, muffled exclamations, jump up, and tell each other they knew it, that it was obvious there was something more between you than just professionalism and maybe a friendship.

“I think I just twisted it,” you responded to Seb, grimacing in pain while trying to get up. “It’s… fine, I guess.”

“Y/N, you really need to start being more careful, this happens to you all the time…” Seb replied, sighing, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

“You say that as if I trip every day.”

“You do, babe,” he replied, shooting you a playful but stern look, signaling for the kids to guide you. They didn’t say anything. Instead, they just stood there, stunned. “Last month, you fell in class while trying to erase the board. Last week, at home, you almost broke your wrist picking up a book I had hidden to gift you. And now, look, a little more and—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you replied, giving up. “I’m clumsy, but you still love me, I guess.”

“Stop talking nonsense, Y/N. You know I love you more than you can imagine, no matter what you’re like.”

Seb shook his head at what you just said and did something that sent your students into an internal meltdown.

He took your hand, and you didn’t hesitate for a second to intertwine your fingers with his, just as your fiancé had no problem giving your hand a warm kiss.

Not to mention that when you almost fell again, Seb didn’t hesitate to hold you by the waist, and he had no qualms about picking you up in his arms to take you to the small emergency room in the museum while telling those chaotic teenagers, fangirling over you both, to wait outside to see what happened to you.

By the time you both returned to the school, the rumors had reached their peak, and there was nothing you could do to avoid your students confronting you, especially when Anna, Jason, and a few others who were closer to you both cornered you after class when you were heading to the parking lot to grab your car and go home, hand in hand.

You barely had time to react when they stood in front of you, their faces revealing shy smiles while they fiddled with the straps of their backpacks and kept looking at you both.

Seb and you exchanged a glance, and you both knew there was no turning back, no excuses left.

“Guys, whatever you want to ask us, go ahead,” you said calmly, crossing your arms and leaning against your fiancé.

“Mr. Vettel, Ms. Y/L/N, we have something to ask you,” Jason began.

Seb sighed and looked at you. This was exactly what you both had thought.

“Let me guess, now we’re like your… best friends, and you’ve decided to play truth or dare with us or something like that?” your fiancé said in a teasing tone.

“Exactly, Mr. Vettel!” answered Camila, one of the girls.

“The thing is… are you two dating?”

“Excuse me, what did you just say, Jenson?” you asked, trying not to give anything away, just wanting to see where this conversation was going.

“Oh my God, Ms. Y/L/N, don’t ignore us!” Anna replied. “It’s so obvious you’re wearing Mr. Vettel’s oversized sweatshirt…”

“And you drink from his coffee mug and leave him really cute kisses,” Jason continued. “Oh, and you also call Mr. Vettel Sebu. Who calls their coworker Sebu? What the fuck is even a Sebu?”

“And you also flirt in the hallways! Mr. Vettel always leans in to whisper in Ms. Y/L/N’s ear, and she turns super red!” intervened one of the guys.

“Not to mention that at the visit to the museum you held hands and called each other love and all those sweet things parents say to each other!”

You and Seb kept looking from one student to the next, the difficulty in holding back your laughter growing with each passing second.

“With everything they’re saying, it seems like we’re already married,” Seb commented, turning to you with a wide grin.

“Well, we do live together and we’re three months away from getting married, so they’re not far off,” you replied, bursting out laughing.

And that’s when the silence fell.

The students exchanged looks, glancing at each other for a moment before they started shaking each other, shouting "I told you!" while continuing to bombard you with even more intimate questions about your relationship.

“So, is it true?! Are you two really dating?!”

“Actually, we’ve been together for 5 years,” Seb replied proudly.

“And, as you’ve probably heard, we’re getting married in three months,” you intervened. “We’ve been planning the wedding ever since Seb proposed to me almost a year and a half ago…”

“Do you know how long we’ve been shipping you two since you were already canon? And secretly!”

Jason shouted, looking the most shocked by the revelation.

“We demand some sort of compensation after all the lies you’ve told us this whole time,” Anna replied, crossing her arms and making her friends agree with her.

You looked at Seb, and he looked back at you.

He knew exactly what you meant with that look.

“Should we tell them, love?” you asked quietly.

Seb didn’t answer, but a wide smile, even bigger than usual, and a sparkle in his eyes lit up his face.

“Of course. After all, it’s just a matter of time before they find out.”

“What will we find out?!” they all screamed in unison.

Instinctively, you placed your hands on your stomach while Seb wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“That soon, you’re going to have, as you would say, a little adopted sibling,” Seb replied, squeezing you against him, feeling like the happiest man in the world.

“I’m pregnant, guys, so you better not say any swear words in class because the baby can hear you, okay?”

If you like my content, and would like to support me, you can do it here <3 Thank you so much for reading until the very end! <3

[jordiemeow]

MISC BOT DUMP ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

09/03/25

featuring characters from: challengers, west side story, dune, bones and all & call me by your name

yay!! jo misc bot release. realised as i was linking these that i hit 100 followers on c.ai umm what the hell thank you horny people. challengers bots at the top bc i know that's what you sluts want!

next bot release will probably be based on lady gaga's new album mayhem. feel free to send requests for characters with song pairings (any fandom but more likely to consider ones from my pinned message!)

gender neutral unless specified otherwise. have fun. personal favourite was lee tbh.

enjoy ! <3

CHALLENGERS

PLATONIC? YEAH RIGHT

stanford art x patrick x best friend!user

You've all fantasised about this. Patrick is just the only one brave enough to act on it, even if it is as a result of a joint being shared between the three of you on Art's cramped single and a few stolen kisses. None of you have to say it out loud to know the three of you want to share more than Patrick's weed, though.

YES, COACH!

coach!art x protégé!user

He likes it when you call him coach. He shouldn’t, but it does something to him. He won’t admit it. Not to you, or himself. He’d deny it. Say he’s just tired, it’s the humidity, or something. Anything, rather than face the fact that he has the biggest little coaching kink over you. You’ve probably not even realised it, but your defiant little glare melting away to a compliant yes, coach goes straight south for him every time.

NASTY DOG

stanford era cheater!patrick x partner!user

Patrick knows he's in trouble, but does he really care? It's not that he doesn’t love you. He does, or he thinks he does. But he simply isn’t built for commitment. It's just too limiting, or so he claimed. And the groupies on tour are just so eager to please him. The sight of you throwing a ball in Art's pathetic attempt at a game piques his interest at the party he’s dragged you both along to, but when a hot girl in a low-cut top offers him body shots, what is he supposed to do? Say no? That's not in his nature. Because first and foremost, Patrick Zweig is a motherfucking dog.

FUTILE DEVICES

stanford era!art x best friend!user

To everyone else, you’re an asshole. Snarky and bitchy. You’d insult someone’s dead parent if they were being rude enough. Aggressive and temperamental. And yet there’s something about you that makes you completely irresistible to Art. He’s been in awe of you since he was a little shithead at twelve years old, and now he’s nineteen and he’s still thinking about you, watching your every move, hanging onto every word that comes out of your mouth… And, yeah, he’s maybe in love with you. Whatever.

FRESH YOUNG TALENT

coach!tashi x protégé!user

You could be perfect. An extension of Tashi, the manifestation of her own lost talent the day she injured her knee. Who needs her pathetic excuse of a husband when she has you? With that low drawl in your ear that's like a lullaby, but you know she's more of a devil than a comforting presence. It's almost enough to make you forget the fact that she's technically untouchable—her wedding ring a glaring reminder of the fact she's not yours. And yet you're hers. Her fresh young talent to carve into something beautiful.

SHARING IS CARING

stanford tashi x patrick x art x user

Patrick has always been convinced that he's the leader amongst you all. But, deep down, you all know you're eating out of the palm of Tashi's perfectly manicured hand. Her little white boys and you, her best friend. When she suggests to bring back your old tradition of sharing partners, how are you supposed to say no to that?

CARD DECLINED

2019!patrick x tinder date!user

Patrick Zweig is broke. Like living out of his car and using Tinder to couch (bed) surf kind of broke. The fact most of his pictures were his bulge should have rang alarm bells, but hey, you're on the app for the same thing. But he's in need of a warm meal, so he hits you with the gentleman card. Let me take you out for drinks first. Except his card conveniently declines, and instead of getting dicked down, you're left to pay the bill... great. That's what you get for using dating apps.

THE OTHER WOMAN

2019!tashi x sugar baby!reader (wlw)

Tashi must be getting really fond of you, because she's been indulging in purchases a lot more recently. It's not like you needed that $200 perfume, or the Valentino bag that sits in your closet, or the Hermes belt that you're too shy to wear. But she wanted you to have them. There was a rush there, a thrill of power. A reminder that she could have you with a single crook of her finger. And you always oblige, so sweet and eager to please, because at the end of the day... you're hers.

WEST SIDE STORY

LANDLINE

riff x uptown girl!user (m4f)

Riff ain't exactly been the best influence on you, getting you to sneak out and meet him in back alleys to sneak a couple cigarettes or share a few swigs of alcohol. Ain't ever taken you farther than that, though. Defiling you is tempting, but so is talking down the phone for hours into the night. He can just picture you giggling, twirling your phonecord around your finger and kicking your legs as you talk. Maybe you're sitting on a chair, or maybe in your bed. Hell, either way he knows you're in something cute and lacy to wear to bed, and he's definitely a fan of that. His pretty lil’ girly girl.

PRETTY LIL' SHARK

riff x anita’s sister!user (m4f)

You’re such a feisty lil’ spitfire that Riff can’t help but be drawn to you. If his boys knew he spent so much time thinking about the way you called him a gringo and spat your gum at him the other day, he’d never hear the end of it. Bernardo’s fuckin’ girlfriend’s sister, no less. But boy are you entertaining, ‘n’ it’s worth the risk just to ambush you on your weekly trip to Doc’s.

BONES AND ALL

APEX PREDATOR

lee x eater friend!user

Sometimes, Lee thinks God must have sent you to him. Not that he’s said a prayer in the last few years before you came into the picture. Sent him an angel, because He knew he was too much of a sinner. A deadly angel, though, given the fact you’ve just fed from an unlucky motel employee. No hint of cologne or perfume in the air as he consoles you and wipes the blood from your chin, just the natural, earthy scent of your shared sin. Perhaps demon is a more apt comparison.

CALL ME BY YOUR NAME

LOATHING

elio x family friend!user

Elio isn't sure of the reason for his own irritability. Whether it's your presence or the heat or the fact that everything with Oliver feels like it's spinning out of control. He just knows that he's in a bad mood, and you happen to be there. So, unfortunately for you, picking fruit with a sullen boy is your fate for the afternoon. If he has to deal with your bright smile and cheerful attitude for too long, though, he might just go insane.

LA PISCINA

elio x childhood friend!user

Being Elio Perlman’s dedicated bosom friend is not for the weak, for several reasons. One, he’s an annoying little shit. Two, he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite. Three, he’s in love with an American man six years his senior. Age gap aside, your ire regarding that particular problem stems from the fact that maybe you’re in love with your best friend. Oh, how you wish the summer would just end and things could go back to just being you and Elio. No stupid fucking Oliver.

DUNE

FOREIGN BOY

arrakis!paul x fremen teacher!user

You’re quite the thorn in Paul’s side. A decent teacher in theory, but so full of criticism that sometimes he just wants to smack you up the back of the head. A particularly repetitive session has both of you in a mood today; him wanting to prove himself to you, you wanting him to fail. But, by all the blessings of Shai-Hulud, sandwalking would not be the hill this Offworlder dies on.

PIPE DREAMS

caladan!paul x childhood friend!user

You'd always felt comfortable being yourself around Paul, even if he is to become the next Duke. It's always been like that, a sort of unspoken rule. For you, he was never Paul Atriedes, the son of The Duke. He was just Paul, your favourite person, the boy who was always better than you at sparring, but would never hold it against you. Your best friend, despite the expectations and responsibilities that always seemed to sit heavy on his shoulders. He can forget about that when he’s with you.

[bamfkeeper]

Kurt teaching you German numbers, his methods are very encouraging. 18+ under cut. MDNI.

This crossed my mind, and I think it's super hot. But maybe it's just meee idk 😖 It's all for fun anyway. I have trouble retaining information so I figured Kurt would come up with something to help you remember if you have the same issue. <3

Warnings: More dominant Kurt bc I wanna see more this side of him, it's not too crazy. Afab reader, sex toys, praise, orgasm denial, slight overstimulation, oral (reader giving), he uses his tail~ Not edited, please ignore grammar mistakes!

WC: 1.8k

You didn't speak German, when you met Kurt you vowed you'd try to learn. You asked him to help you from time to time, and he gladly did. He always praised you for words you got write, and gently corrected you or helped you when you got something wrong or simply couldn't remember. But even if you missed a day, you forgot everything. It was frustrating for you, how you couldn't retain something so simple. Kurt knew how you felt, so he thought he might change up the lessons to make them a bit more...interactive.

"We will start off easy, liebling." he hummed and sat in front of you, looking down at you on the floor. You were trembling and looking up with anticipation, biting your lip, squirming slightly on the vibe he had on your cunt. "Numbers. One through ten, ja?" he turned the vibe on a low setting, enough to jerk you up slightly, but not enough for you to reach your peak.

"Okay..." you rasped, crawling to be more sat between his legs. He chuckled and watched you fondle his growing bulge in his underwear. "Naughty liebchen..." he cooed, "Wait."

With a reluctant whine, you stopped and looked up at him again. Your cheeks were much hotter from the situation, he hadn't ever been this way before, but you weren't complaining.

"One." he said calmly, his tail curled up at the end as he watched you.

"Eins." you replied softly, your legs trembling. You could feel your core dampening, your clit throbbed against the dull vibration from the vibe. He grinned down at you, nodding. "Good. That's correct..." a press on the remote made the vibrator increase a notch, which in turn made you feel more pleasure.

"And what's two?" he asked, slowly pulling himself free, his cock slowly hardening as his hand stroked it. Your eyes were glued to his pretty cock, the tip beading already and you wanted to taste him.

"Zwei," you said back, hoping he'd let you suck him now. He saw your wants, but he didn't give in just yet. You were only on two after all, you needed to remember more than that first.

"Ah, good...three." he continued, hitting the next button to increase the vibrations. The second setting felt good, but not enough for you. You wanted more, and he saw your hips squirming. He smiled at you, he was unbelievably hot right now, it wasn't fair.

"Three." he whispered, "Make it to five and I'll let you cum." he promised, his hand steadily stroking himself. The promise of your climax made you feel more motivated, you were pretty confident so far. "Drei," your answer came out with a slight whine, and the vibe increased again, the third setting beginning to make a louder hum and your legs shook more.

"Das ist gut...you are doing so good." he whispered, "How about four and five? Can you remember four and five?" he asked, his hand moving a little faster on his cock. You bit your lip, spreading your legs slightly as you practically made a pool under you with how much you were leaking. "Ah...a-ah...v-vier...and....fünf..." you moaned loudly as he hit the button twice and the vibrations increased two notches.

He hummed and his tail tapped your back, urging you to scoot closer. "You did well, how about I let you reach your first orgasm? You remembered one through five, you deserve it don't you?" he reached down and cupped your face, his cock almost touching your lips but not close enough.

"Y-yes...." you whined, his finger pushed into your mouth gently and he tsked, so you corrected yourself. "Ja..." a bit muffled with his finger but...he got the gist. He nodded, his tail trailed your spine and moved between your legs. His spade cupped your pussy, feeling how wet you were and his eyes glistened.

"What a naughty girl. You are so turned on by this, hm? I had no idea this is what would get you to remember. I suppose we shall do this anytime you need a German lesson, won't we?" he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and held your chin, pulling you closer to his cock. It throbbed slightly, the head dripping sticky precum for you.

"Do you like when I am like this? You probably didn't expect it from me...but I assure you liebling...I can be however you want me to be." Kurt hummed and rubbed his cock on your lips. "Not yet..." he teased, his tail gently pressing your soaked entrance. "Tell me one through five again, sweetheart."

You were dizzy, you never thought Kurt could act like this, but hell, you weren't going to tell him to stop. You shifted, your back arching slightly, trying to get more of him to poke into you, but he anticipated this and withdrew his tail. "Kurt," you whined, pouting before reciting the numbers in German.

"Was that so hard?" he questioned, a playing smirk on his lips as his tail pushed back against you. Between his tail toying with you and the vibe, you weren't far from your orgasm. He worked you for a bit, until he felt you push your face into his thigh, moaning loudly as you felt your orgasm hit you. Your entire body shook with the shocks of it, the vibe was right on your swelling clit and it felt so intense that you swear the vibrations went straight to your toes.

"Ah...that's it...let yourself go, liebe...you're so good." he praised and groaned to himself, seeing you reach your peak almost got him to his own, his hand stroking himself hastily. When your orgasm was over, you whined and panted from the intense sensation still humming on your clit. He chuckled seeing your blissed out face, though slightly wincing from the overstimulation. "You are so beautiful...you feel so wet on my tail, liebe...can you get to ten?"

"A-aah...nngh, Kurt..." you whimpered, "S-s'too much..." you panted and held his legs. He shook his head and smiled, "Get to ten...then I'll give you a break."

He continued the slow count to ten, when he got to eight, you couldn't remember what it was. "Nngh...I-I don't remember..." you whined, your second orgasm right there....so, so close! You were right on the edge and about to teeter off when he cut the vibe's power. Your throat caught a strangled cry and you looked up at him. Your eyes held betrayal and he laughed softly.

"You know our deal, schatz...each number you get correct increases the power...for one you get wrong, you cannot come." he said calmly, explaining it in a teasing manner. His head tilted slightly, his hair curling at the ends and falling over his forehead. "Let's try again...from one."

You groaned and pouted, your forehead pressing against his leg. "Fine..." you muttered, feeling a little stubborn but obliging. One look up at him and your resolve melted away. You leaned up and kissed his tip before he could say anything in response. "Eins, zwei, drei." You said quickly, "Vier, fünf, sechs." your tongue dashed out and licked over his tip, tasting him. Your tongue took its time, slowly rolling over his head and pressing against the slit to get more of his precum.

"Sieben..." you trailed off and thought about what eight was, you had forgotten before. "Er..." you frowned, your brow furrowing in thought. His cock head came into view, you kissed the tip and suckled. "Oh! Acht!" you said proudly, making Kurt smile widely.

"Ja! Ja, das war gut!" he laughed and held the remote up a bit, turning the vibe back on. The vibrations weren't as strong as they were but they were slowly building back up. "Now what about nine and ten...?"

You moaned loudly, your already sensitive clit being stimulated raw like this made you more ready to cum a second time. The intensity of right before your climax overwhelmed you and the sensation continued. You felt like you were balancing on the rope right before free falling to pleasure, the vibrations just needed to be slightly more powerful...

"N-Neun...." you rasped, hot breath hitting his hard dick and he had to hold everything back, maintaining his composure so you completed the exercise. "A...and...zehn!" you weren't sure on that last one, but spat it out anyway.

Kurt was relieved too, he needed more from you just as you needed more from him. "Ja, good, you got them!" he turned the vibe up and he cradled the back of your head, pulling you to his cock and pushing past your lips. He bobbed your head and he groaned, "Ja...so gut...I know you've wanted this." he grunted out of a clenched jaw, his tail continuing to caress your pussy.

"More, liebling...I'm close." he warned, guiding you to bob your head quicker. Your hand reached down and fondled his balls, rolling them gently and earning louder groans from him. Each noise he made shot pleasure straight to your core. "Mmn, mmf!" you looked up at him as you tried to take more of him than you were used to.

You gagged slightly, but that didn't stop your determination. He watched with half lidded eyes as you tried your best to deepthroat him while your orgasm hit you. Your nose buried into his pubic hair, saliva dripped down his balls as your tongue pressed against his cock and protected the underside of him from your teeth. You muffled a cry as your body shook from the force of your climax rushed through you.

His eyes roll back and he jerks his hips up slightly, soon hot ropes of cum shoot out into your throat, coating your tongue as he pulls back so you don't choke. The sticky fluid fills your mouth and you eagerly drink it down. He feels you swallowing and he waits until you get it all, then he pulls himself out of your mouth.

"Oh, liebling...c'mere." he pulled you up, your poor legs trembled as you stood. He turned the vibe off and removed it from you, looking at your swollen and reddened clit. "Poor little button," he smirked and leaned down, laying a kiss against it. You moaned loudly when his lips touched your throbbing bud and he pulled back before it became too much.

He gave you that charming smile, and your exhausted face couldn't help but smile back. He would be the death of you, you swore. He pulled you into his lap and held you, kissing your neck and cheeks in a loving manner. He adored you more than anything else, and he loved how the two of you could have fun and explore these kinds of things together.

"You know...if you ever want to learn German colors..." he trailed off, flashing a mischievous grin. Maybe you could go for another lesson.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover images: Immortal X-Men #7 (2022)

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch24

*.°* pairing : pre!military jk x waitress/ secret fuckbuddy reader

"For good service, and cute waitresses."

warnings: smut, alc consumption, fluff, profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idolljungkook, mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict, insecurity, fluff at the start!! they kiss eachother w lipstick and take pics. but turns sad real quick lol

smut warnings: unprotected sex, they both cry during it, “please dont leave me”, he tries dirty talking mid way and realises thats not what u need, no prep lol, riding, sideways fucking, missionary, aftercare, kissing, its sad but still filthy, oral f receiving, forced eye contact.

wc: longggg

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

*.°* taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610 @bjoriis @kaitieskidmore97 @cuntessaiii @lovingkoalaface @bigsteppagangsterizzie @hangescn @angie-x3

masterlist | < prev, next >

The diner is buzzing today, but you barely hear it.

The hum of conversation, the clatter of plates, the distant sizzle of something frying in the kitchen—it’s all just background noise to the thoughts spinning in your head.

Jungkook rushed out of Nari’s apartment hours ago, muttering something about a last-minute meeting, and you haven’t heard from him since. Not that it’s weird—he’s insanely busy these days, and you’re trying really hard not to let that little fact ruin your mood.

But there’s only three days left.

Three.

When Jungkook told you he had a week left, you didn’t think he meant he was leaving on Friday.

Friday.

And it’s already Tuesday.

And it’s like time is slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold onto it.

You push through your shift, doing your best to keep up with Nari’s usual antics—she’s thriving off your distracted state, making fun of you for staring into space one too many times—but it’s all so much.

Before you know it, the shift is over.

Nari drops you home, pulling up outside your apartment with a tired sigh. “You okay?” she asks, even though she knows the answer.

You nod. “Yeah.”

She squints at you. “Liar.”

You sniff, and she groans, already regretting asking. “Go call your stupid boyfriend.” She teases.

“He’s not my—”

“Shut up, yes, he is.”

You roll your eyes, shoving her playfully before stepping out of the car. And the second you’re inside, you call Jungkook.

It only rings twice before he picks up. “Hey, baby.”

The sound of his voice makes your heart ache. “I miss you.”

A pause. Then a quiet sigh. “I know. I miss you, too.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying so hard to keep your voice steady. “I can’t believe it’s so soon.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t be sorry,” you say quickly. “It’s just… I don’t know. Are you free right now?”

There’s a pause. “Right now?”

“Yeah, now.”

“Shit, baby, I wish—” He sighs again. “I have to be up early tomorrow. I’m seeing my family all day, so I don’t think—”

“You’re not gonna see me tomorrow?”

Jungkook hesitates. “I can drop by in the morning—”

And then— You wail.

Like, full-on dramatic sobbing.

“Noooooo,” you cry, clutching your pillow for emotional support. “Please, don’t gooo, please, Jungkook, I can’t do this—”

“What the fuck—” Jungkook panics. “Baby, stop—”

“Jungkook, I’m gonna diiiieeee,” you wail louder, rolling onto your back. “I can’t live without you for one night, pleaseee—”

“Oh, my fucking—”

“Jungkooooooook—”

“Fine!” he finally yells, defeated. “ Fine, fine, I’ll come, but only for a few hours, stop crying baby I-!”

You immediately stop sniffling. “Really?”

Jungkook squints at his phone. Suspicious.

“Yes, really, but I swear to god, if I show up and you’re asleep, I’ll kill you.”

You beam, wiping your totally fake tears. “Okay, hurry up.”

But then—guilt.

“Oh my god, wait, you don’t have to,” you say quickly. “I’m sorry, you’re probably exhausted, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s fine,” Jungkook interrupts. “Really. I wanna see you anyway. But seriously. Only a few hours, okay?”

“Okay, okay, I promise.”

You don’t.

But he doesn’t have to know that.

Just like you predicted, when Jungkook finally shows up, he looks exhausted.

His eyes are heavy, his shoulders slouched, and the second he steps inside, he lets out a long breath like he’s been waiting all day to finally be here.

And suddenly, you feel so guilty. “I’m sorry,” you say immediately, suddenly feeling small as you stand there in your hoodie. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, stop,” Jungkook interrupts, shaking his head as he pulls you in. His arms wrap tight around you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deep. “I love you, okay? We don’t have much time left, so I’m making the most of it.”

You soften. “Okay.”

“Let’s forget about it for now,” he murmurs against your skin before pulling back. “I’m only staying till twelve, so, three hours.”

You pout, already feeling the time slipping away. “That’s not enough.”

Jungkook sighs, brushing his fingers down your cheek. “I’ll stop by in the morning if you really want me to.”

Your eyes widen. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

You hold out your pinky, and Jungkook huffs a laugh before linking his with yours, pressing a kiss to the side of your hand for good measure.

And with that, you both settle into your bedroom, climbing onto your bed like it’s just another normal night. You talk about everything and nothing at the same time, just enjoying each other’s presence, fingers tangled together on the sheets.

At some point, you get curious. “So, what do you think you’ll get up to in the military?”

Jungkook hums, shifting onto his side to look at you. “I don’t know. I’m definitely not excited, but I guess it’ll be nice to have a break.”

You nod, listening intently as he sighs. “Unfortunately, I can’t be in one of the fancier units, though.”

“Why?”

“Visible tattoos,” he shrugs. “You can’t enlist in certain sectors if you have them. I’ll probably end up in something boring.”

Your brows furrow. “Wait—does that mean you’ll still be working out?”

Jungkook gives you a look. “Why do you sound excited?”

You sit up slightly. “Does this mean you’ll get bigger?”

He squints. “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know—do you want me to?”

Your entire face lights up. “Yes, oh my god, yes—” You bounce on the bed, grinning. “Please!”

Jungkook laughs, grabbing your wrists to stop you from shaking the bed. “I’m already big!”

“But imagine— bigger!”

Jungkook groans, flopping onto his back dramatically. “Why do I feel like you’re gonna make me send you muscle updates when I’m there?”

“Oh, I am,” you confirm, grinning. “Get ready for me to demand flexing videos every week.”

He rolls over, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you down until you’re nose to nose. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters.

You grin.

A few minutes later, you’re perched on Jungkook’s lap, lips fused to his, hands in his hair, completely lost in him. It’s like you can’t help it—like there’s this unspoken rule now that you have to touch him, kiss him, hold onto him as much as possible while you still can.

Jungkook clearly has the same thought, because the second you try pulling back, he’s tugging you right back in, hands firm on your hips.

But you just giggle, pushing at his chest. “No, wait. I have an idea.”

Jungkook groans dramatically, head falling back against the headboard. “Baby, c’mon—”

You ignore him, scrambling for your nightstand until your fingers close around a tube of lipstick.

Jungkook eyes you warily. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, you pop the cap off and swipe the color across your lips. Then, before he can react, you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. Then another. And another.

“Y/N—!” He squirms, laughing as you attack his face, leaving imprints of your lips across his skin. “Stop, that tickles!”

“No,” you say simply, completely unbothered. “You’re cute.”

“Stop calling me cute.”

“You are cute.”

Jungkook groans in defeat, letting you assault his face with kisses while his hands absentmindedly squeeze at your waist.

You grab your Polaroid camera and snap a picture before he can react.

“Hey—!”

Too late. You’re already shaking it, grinning down at the image of his completely kiss-covered face. “Oh, this is going on the wall.”

Jungkook watches as you add it right next to the first-ever picture you took of him—the one where he was buried under your plushies.

The little collection is growing.

You turn back to him. “Okay, take your shirt off.”

Jungkook perks up. “Oh?” He doesn’t hesitate, tugging it over his head in one smooth motion.

You beam. “Good.” Then, you lean down and repeat the process—pressing kisses along his collarbones, his chest, each of his abs—until he’s laughing, trying to twist away from the ticklish sensation.

“Baby—stop, I can’t—”

“Nope.” You snap another picture of him, now covered in even more lipstick stains. “I win.”

Jungkook watches as you struggle to find more space on the wall, eventually just sticking them in random spots. One even goes into your phone case.

“You’re insane,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“You love it.”

He hums, and then, suddenly, “My turn.”

You blink. “What? No—”

Too late. He grabs the lipstick from your hand, rolling you onto your back in one swift motion. “Stay still,” he murmurs, straddling your waist.

“Jungkook—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, uncapping the lipstick. His touch is slow, careful as he smears the color across his lips. His fingers linger against your jaw, his eyes heavy-lidded as he takes you in.

You’re blushing, gripping at his arm for support.

Compared to how frantic you were before, Jungkook is slow.

Painfully, teasingly slow.

And when he finally leans down, he starts his attack—pressing deliberate kisses all over your cheeks, your jaw, your collarbone, your neck—taking his sweet time.

You squirm, flustered, but he just smirks. “What? You don’t like it when it’s you?”

You grab a pillow and whack him with it.

Jungkook cackles, reaching for your camera. “How do I use this thing?”

You scoff. “Oh, so you’re not a camera expert anymore?”

“I don’t know how to use your kiddie camera.”

You gasp, offended. “It’s not a kiddie camera! It’s a Polaroid, for your information.”

Jungkook grins. “I know how to use it—I just wanted you to teach me.”

You roll your eyes, guiding his hands over the camera. “Like this.”

Jungkook snaps a bunch of pictures of you, grinning at the results. But instead of giving them to you, he tucks a few into his pocket.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m keeping them.”

You pause, realizing. “Will you look at them when you’re gone?”

He shrugs, smiling softly. “Maybe.”

The mood shifts. You’re both curled up in bed now, Jungkook holding you close, rubbing small circles on your back. You feel him shift, checking the time.

“Babe, I have to leave soon.”

You tense. “I know.”

And then it hits you again.

An hour left until he has to go.

Three days left until he’s gone for real.

Jungkook knows you’re thinking about it—he sees it in your face. So he tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I promise I’ll come by tomorrow.”

You nod. “I know.”

“I’ll text you. I’ll update you about everything.”

“You don’t have to,” you murmur. “I know you’ll miss your family, too.”

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah. I will.”

And then you realize—it’s not just you he’s leaving.

It’s his family. His members. His fans.

It’s everyone.

And suddenly, you feel selfish.

Jungkook notices the shift in you immediately, his hand finding your cheek. “Hey. You’re okay. I promise.”

You don’t answer. But you do let yourself relax into him, nuzzling into his chest, letting his heartbeat soothe you. Eventually, you drift off—still covered in his kisses.

Jungkook waits until you’re fully asleep before gently rummaging through your nightstand, looking for wipes. He knows what it’s like to fall asleep with makeup on—it always makes him feel gross in the morning—so he carefully cleans the lipstick off your skin, making sure to be gentle as you unconsciously nuzzle into his touch.

When he’s done, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Then another. And another.

He doesn’t want to leave.

Not now. Not in three days.

He debates staying, but then you stir, your brows furrowing slightly, and he knows he can’t.

So instead, he whispers, “I love you so much.”

And even in your sleep, you mewl at the sound of it, your body immediately relaxing, like it’s enough for now.

Jungkook stands there for a moment, just watching you, before finally slipping out of bed.

He takes in the sight of your room—the little details, the chaos, the way it perfectly reflects you—and he finds himself smiling.

His eyes land on your Polaroid wall, at all the little moments captured there.

He debates taking down one of the pictures you took of him earlier, thinking he doesn’t look great in it, but in the end, he leaves it. And just before he leaves, he snaps one last picture of you—fast asleep, peaceful, his favorite sight in the world.

——

Jungkook drives home in silence.

The whole way there, his heart feels full—so much so that it’s almost enough to distract him from what’s coming. Almost.

But then, the second he steps into his apartment, the feeling changes. He goes through the motions—taking off his shoes, tossing his bag onto the couch, getting ready for bed—but it all feels too normal. Like it’s just another night. Like tomorrow won’t be another countdown to leaving.

And the second he touches his bed, it hits him all at once. The sob breaks out of him before he can even stop it. He curls in on himself, gripping his sheets, his chest aching in a way he can’t even describe.

He doesn’t want to go.

He doesn’t want to go.

And before he can even think about it, his fingers are already dialing your number.

It rings once.

Twice.

Three times. No answer.

You’re asleep.

He knows he shouldn’t wake you up, so he stops himself from calling again—but the loneliness is too much, the silence in his apartment is too loud, and before he knows it, he’s calling again.

But not you this time.

Namjoon answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

Jungkook chokes on a sob. “Hyung—”

“Jungkook? What’s wrong?”

And then it all comes out.

“I don’t want to go,” Jungkook cries, his chest heaving as he grips the phone like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His voice is raw, cracking under the weight of everything. “I don’t—I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to leave her—”

Namjoon sighs on the other end, the kind of sigh that carries years of understanding. The kind that says, I know this hurts.

“I know,” he says softly.

“I can’t do it,” Jungkook gasps, shaking his head even though Namjoon can’t see him. “I can’t—I can’t wake up tomorrow and pretend everything’s fine. It’s not fine. I just—” His voice breaks, and the silence that follows is filled with his quiet, shaking breaths.

“You have to,” Namjoon says after a beat, gentle but firm. “You knew this day would come. It’s not forever, Jungkook.”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut. “It feels like forever.”

Namjoon hums, thoughtful. “She took you back, right?”

Jungkook nods through his tears, even though Namjoon isn’t there to see it. “Yeah.”

“Then she’ll wait for you.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens. He wants to believe that—he really does. But the fear is suffocating.

“What if she doesn’t?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “What if she moves on? What if—” His voice cracks again, and he bites his lip hard to keep it together. “I love her. I told her, properly this time. At the beach. And she—she looked at me like I was her whole world.”

Namjoon is quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “Then trust her, Jungkook.”

Jungkook sniffles. “But what if—”

Namjoon cuts him off, echoing his words from when he’d given him advice a long time ago, “Then that’s a risk you have to take.”

Jungkook hates that answer. Because it’s not the reassurance he wants. It’s not a guarantee. But he knows Namjoon is right.

His fingers loosen around his phone, exhausted, defeated. “I watched her fall asleep earlier,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “She was just… there. So warm. So peaceful. Like she knew she was safe with me.”

Namjoon hums again, quieter this time. “And you’ll have that again. Maybe not soon. Maybe not next month. But you will.”

Jungkook swallows down another sob. “I don’t want to do this without her.”

“You’re not doing this without her,” Namjoon corrects him. “She’s still with you. And if she’s the one, she’ll still be there when you come back.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply. He just breathes, listening to Namjoon’s steady presence on the other end. It’s quiet, the only sound their breathing, and somehow, that makes it easier.

Eventually, exhaustion wins.

Jungkook drifts off, his phone still in his hand, with Namjoon still on the line

——

When Jungkook wakes up, it’s to his alarm blaring at 5 AM.

His head is heavy, his throat is dry from crying, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it—he has to meet his family soon.

Without thinking, he reaches for his phone. His fingers type out a message before he can overthink it.

Jungkook [5:07 AM]: hi baby, im coming in like an hour. do you want anything?

No response. You’re probably still asleep.

He sighs, pushing himself out of bed, rubbing at his tired eyes. Then, he hops in the shower, letting the water wash away everything from the night before. There’s still some remnants on lipstick on his chest and his abdomen and he scrubs away even if it physically hurts him to.

When he steps out, he doesn’t check his phone right away. Because if you haven’t responded yet, he’s not sure if he can handle that feeling right now. Jungkook gets in his car, barely even processing the motion of turning the keys in the ignition. His mind is elsewhere.

Two days.

Two days is nothing.

Today and tomorrow.

He exhales sharply through his nose, gripping the steering wheel a little too tight as he pulls out onto the road. He knows today is supposed to be for his family. He’s not mad about it—he misses them, and he wants to see them before he goes.

But at the same time…

He’d rather be with you.

He shakes the thought away, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he focuses on driving. Not like it matters. He still has this morning, at least.

His stomach grumbles, but instead of stopping somewhere for himself, he takes a sharp turn, heading towards a tiny, shitty food truck that he knows has just opened for the morning. The kind of place that only locals know about, nothing fancy, nothing overhyped—just good, simple food.

You’d love it.

So he pulls up without hesitation, quickly placing an order for pancakes and waiting impatiently, checking the time on his phone every other second.

5:30 AM.

He still has time. It’s not enough, but it’ll have to be. His fingers tap against his thigh as he debates his next move.

The field.

His chest clenches at the thought.

Fuck it. By the time he gets his order, he’s already made up his mind. The drive to the field is second nature at this point, muscle memory guiding him as he turns onto the small, secluded road leading there.

When he finally parks, he steps out, stretching his arms with a sigh as the cool morning air washes over him. The sun isn’t fully up yet, but there’s a soft golden glow in the distance, and for a moment, Jungkook just stands there, taking it in.

He wonders if you’re awake yet.

He wonders if you’d be mad if you knew he was here without you.

But he doesn’t dwell on it for long—he steps forward, wandering into the field, eyes scanning for the small patches of daisies that always seem to grow in the same spots.

It takes a few minutes, but he finds them, crouching down and picking a few with careful hands, letting the scent of the fresh petals fill his nose.

And then, without wasting another second, he’s back in his car, pancakes in one hand, flowers in the other, driving straight to your apartment.

Jungkook knocks, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he glances down at the bag of pancakes in his hand and the small bunch of daisies in the other.

It’s almost six now.

It takes a bit longer than usual for you to answer, and he figures you’re probably still asleep. He doesn’t mind waiting.

And then, finally—

The door creaks open, and—

Oh.

His heart clenches so hard it almost fucking hurts.

You’re standing there, still groggy with sleep, wearing a t-shirt that barely covers the tops of your thighs, your hair messy from sleep, one eye squinted shut as you rub at it lazily. You let out a soft yawn, blinking at him like you’re still processing the fact that he’s even here.

And then—

Your eyes widen, fully waking up as you beam at him, and before he can even get a word out, you reach forward, tugging him inside by the sleeve of his hoodie and wrapping your arms around him.

Jungkook barely has time to react before he’s melting into you, inhaling the faint traces of your shampoo as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re so warm.

And it sucks.

It fucking sucks that he only has two days left with you.

But for now—for you, and for himself—he pretends that he’s not leaving at all.

Jungkook expects you to pull him into the kitchen like always, maybe tease him for being up so early, maybe sit across from him at the counter as you both eat.

Instead—

You take the bag from his hands, peeking inside curiously. “What’s this?”

He raises a brow. “Pancakes. And flowers. Duh.”

You smile, stepping closer to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, baby.”

His heart stutters.

But before he can say anything, you drop the bag on the counter and—

Take his hand.

And pull him toward your bedroom.

Jungkook blinks. Wait.

He’s confused for a second, expecting you to sit him down or do something—but you just stand there, looking a little sheepish, rubbing at your arm before mumbling—

“Can you just… hold me?”

His chest tightens.

For a second, all he can do is stare. And then, he tugs you in gently, leading you back to the bed without another word. You follow without hesitation, crawling under the sheets as he settles in beside you.

You snuggle into his side immediately, arms wrapped around his waist, face tucked into his chest, your breath warm against his skin. Jungkook exhales deeply, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his arms winding securely around you.

Two days.

He pretends it’s forever.

The room is quiet.

Neither of you really sleep. You just lay there, wrapped up in each other, lost in silence. Jungkook keeps his eyes on the ceiling, willing himself not to cry. He counts his breaths, focuses on the steady rhythm of your fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against his ribs. Every touch feels like a memory being burned into his skin.

He swallows.

Two days. And then, he feels it.

The slight tremble of your body against his. The way your breath starts to hitch. Jungkook’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head to look at you.

And that’s when he sees—

The tears slipping down your cheeks, soaking into his shirt.

His stomach drops.

“Baby…,” he whispers, heart clenching as he cups your cheek, trying to tilt your face toward his. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer. You just break.

“Please don’t go,” you sob, gripping his shirt in your fists like it’s the only thing keeping you together. “Jungkook, please, don’t—please—”

His chest caves in.

“Baby,” he whispers, his own voice shaking now, his throat burning as he tries to hold it together.

But he can’t. Not when you’re begging like this.

Not when he has no choice but to leave.

He tightens his grip around you, presses his face into your hair, kisses your temple between ragged breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Because what else is there to say?

You keep crying.

Jungkook just holds you tighter, like maybe if he holds you tight enough, neither of you will have to let go.

Jungkook exhales shakily, his forehead pressed against yours, his own tears mixing with yours. Your breath is uneven, your body trembling against his, and he doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to make this better.

So he kisses you.

Soft, at first. A silent plea, a desperate apology. His lips catch your cries, drinking them in like they’re the last thing he’ll ever have of you. He feels the way your hands fist into his shirt tighter, pulling him closer like you want to crawl into him, like you never want there to be space between you again.

And then you kiss him back.

It’s messy, wet from tears, but you don’t care. Your lips move against his with urgency, with something bordering on desperation, and Jungkook groans softly when you press closer, shifting in his lap, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you.

You break away for a moment, but he doesn’t let you go far. He chases after you, lips brushing yours as he breathes out, “Y/N—”

And then you’re kissing him again.

Harder, needier.

Jungkook tilts his head, deepens the kiss, one hand slipping under your shirt to press against the warm skin of your waist. His thumb traces over your hip bone, slow, teasing, grounding himself in the feel of you.

Because this—

This is what he wants to remember.

The way you taste, the way you sound when he swallows down another whimper, the way you need him like he needs you.

And when you shift again, rolling your hips against his, your hands slipping beneath his hoodie—

Jungkook loses himself completely.

Your hands tremble as they push his hoodie up, fingertips trailing over the warmth of his skin. You’re not just touching him—you’re memorizing him, pressing your palms flat against his stomach like you can carve the shape of him into your skin, like you can hold onto him in a way time won’t steal from you.

Jungkook shudders beneath your touch, a sharp breath stuttering against your lips. “Baby,” he whispers, voice wrecked, pleading, but he doesn’t know what for. For you to slow down? To never stop? To let him drown in you until he forgets he ever has to leave?

He doesn’t know.

But then you’re kissing him again—slower this time, softer. Like you’re trying to soothe the ache neither of you can put into words. Your lips are swollen, warm, and Jungkook melts into you when your fingers slide into his hair, pulling, tugging, grounding him.

His hands roam too—sweeping over your back, gripping at your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. He feels the way your body moves with his, how perfectly you fit against him, and it makes something inside him snap.

“Please,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his. “Jungkook, please.”

And he knows what you’re asking for.

His hands shake as he peels your shirt off, as he presses reverent kisses down your throat, over your collarbones, his lips mapping out every inch of skin he can reach. His name leaves your lips in a breathless sigh when he takes one of your breasts into his mouth, his tongue slow and worshipful, hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to hold himself together.

But it’s useless.

Because you’re moving against him, rolling your hips in time with the soft sucks of his mouth, and his resolve is crumbling.

You tilt his face up, guiding him back to your lips, and when your thighs tighten around him, he knows he’s lost.

Your fingers tremble as they trace the shape of his face, committing every dip and curve to memory. The slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the sharp cut of his jawline. You look at him like you’ll never get to again, and the thought alone makes fresh tears sting your eyes.

Jungkook notices. Of course he does.

“Baby,” he whispers, voice thick, strained. He lifts a hand to wipe at your tears, but before he can, you’re leaning in—pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He stills beneath you.

He’s always the one giving you forehead kisses, tucking you close, making you feel safe, adored. They’re your favorite—always have been. But now, it’s you pressing one to his skin, letting your lips linger against the warmth of him, as if you can pour all your love into this one kiss.

Jungkook exhales sharply. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, like he’s trying to hold back something thick and uncontainable. But you don’t let him—don’t let him retreat into that quiet sadness.

Instead, you kiss him again. And again.

Soft, lingering presses of your lips along his temples, down to the curve of his cheekbone. Then his nose. His jaw.

“I love you,” you whisper between each kiss, voice trembling but sure. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Jungkook shatters.

His hands tighten on your waist, like he wants to pull you in, fuse you to him, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt. Just lets you continue, lets you map out every inch of his body with your mouth.

You kiss down his throat, feeling the way it vibrates as he exhales shakily, his pulse hammering against your lips. You don’t stop. Your fingers slide beneath the hem of his hoodie, peeling it away from his skin. The fabric lifts easily, exposing the smooth planes of his chest, and you waste no time pressing your mouth to the skin there, too.

His collarbones, his shoulders, the firm stretch of his arms—everywhere you can reach, you kiss. Slow, reverent. Worshipful.

By the time you’re tugging at his waistband, Jungkook is a mess beneath you—his chest rising and falling rapidly, his fingers digging into the sheets like they’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

And when you press a final, lingering kiss to the inside of his thigh, Jungkook exhales a shaky, wrecked, “Baby…”

Like he’s already breaking.

Like he doesn’t know how to survive this kind of love.

Jungkook’s hands tremble where they grip your waist, his breath ragged as you press kiss after kiss into his skin—his chest, his stomach, the sharp cut of his hip. You’re not thinking anymore, not planning. Just feeling. Memorizing.

Your fingers slide beneath his waistband, tugging. He lifts his hips instinctively, letting you strip away the last barrier between you, and you don’t waste a second. You straddle him, chest heaving, tears still streaking your cheeks as you take him in your hand, guiding him to where you need him most.

Jungkook stiffens. “Wait, baby, you need—”

You don’t let him finish.

You sink down in one motion, gasping as he fills you, as your body stretches to accommodate him, as he presses so deep it knocks the air from your lungs.

Jungkook’s head snaps back against the pillow. His mouth falls open, a choked groan breaking from his throat as his hands fly to your hips, gripping tight like he’s trying to ground himself, trying not to lose it completely.

“Fuck—” His voice is wrecked. “Baby, you—shit, you didn’t—”

You shake your head frantically, cutting him off, pressing a palm over his mouth as your whole body trembles. You don’t care. You don’t care. You just need him.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking, your nails digging into his chest. “Please don’t go.”

Jungkook’s entire body tenses beneath you.

Your hand falls from his mouth, sliding up to cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones as you lean in. Your lips ghost over his, but you don’t kiss him. Just breathe him in, feel the warmth of his skin, the way he’s shaking from the effort of holding himself together.

“What am I gonna do without you?” Your voice cracks. A fresh wave of tears spills over, dripping onto his cheeks. “I don’t know how to be without you, Jungkook.”

His jaw clenches, his brows furrowing in raw agony. He shakes his head, like he wants to say something, like he wants to comfort you, but he can’t. Because he doesn’t know how.

Because he doesn’t know how to be without you either.

And then you move.

You roll your hips, slow, deep, and Jungkook breaks.

A strangled groan rips from his throat, his hands flying to your ass, gripping hard, as if he can somehow press you closer, somehow keep you here. His head tilts back, exposing his throat, and you kiss him there, feeling the way he swallows thickly beneath your lips.

You lift yourself up and sink down again, choking on a sob as he fills you, as he stretches you so perfectly it hurts. But it’s good. It’s right. Like he belongs here.

Like he belongs with you.

Jungkook pants beneath you, his fingers digging into your skin, but he doesn’t rush you. Just lets you take what you need, lets you set the pace, lets you use him the way he wants to use you.

For comfort. For love. For something to hold onto when everything else is slipping away.

And when you look down at him, when your eyes meet his—

Jungkook looks ruined.

His bottom lip trembles, his dark eyes glassy, pleading, like he’s trying so fucking hard not to cry, trying so fucking hard to be strong.

And you can’t take it.

You bury your face in his shoulder, sobbing against his skin, whispering please, please, please between every ragged breath.

Jungkook presses a hand to the back of your head, cradling you close, his lips finding your temple.

“I love you,” he breathes, voice shaking. “I love you, I love you—”

And then his hands are gripping tighter, his hips rising to meet yours, and you know he’s losing himself, giving himself to you the same way you’re giving yourself to him.

Because there’s no tomorrow.

Not yet.

Right now, there’s only this.

You don’t know how you find the strength to do it.

To lift your head. To force your hands to loosen from their desperate clutch on his body. To just look at him.

Jungkook is barely holding himself together. His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, his lashes damp, his lips swollen and parted like he’s trying to catch the words before they escape him. But you see it in his eyes.

He’s breaking.

And you don’t have time for that.

You don’t have time for any of it.

So you do the only thing you can.

You push through it. You suck it up.

You exhale shakily, press your forehead to his, and whisper, “Jungkook.”

His eyes flutter shut for half a second, like he’s trying to memorize the way you say his name, the way your breath warms his lips, the way your voice trembles but still holds him.

And then you move.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding on like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart, your fingers slipping into his hair as you rock your hips against him, slow, deep, dragging him into you over and over and over again.

Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, his hands skimming up your back, gripping tight, his nails digging in just enough to ground himself.

And then he’s breathing it back.

“I love you.”

You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, pressing your lips to his jaw, his cheek, his temple.

“I love you, I love you so much—”

He gasps, his grip tightening, his head tilting back just slightly, enough for you to kiss down his throat, to feel the way he swallows against your lips, to hear the way his breath hitches.

“Please don’t go.”

Jungkook chokes on a sound that’s not quite a sob, not quite a moan, something raw and shattered and so fucking helpless.

And then his arms lock around you, crushing you against him, as he buries his face in your shoulder, his voice breaking completely.

“I don’t wanna go.”

Your entire body tenses. Your breath stutters in your throat.

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go—”

It’s the first time he’s said it. The first time he’s let it slip, the first time he’s let himself admit it—that he doesn’t want to leave you. That it’s killing him. That if he had a choice, if the world would just fucking let him—

He would stay.

Your nails sink into his skin, your hips grinding down harder, desperate, frantic, like you can somehow make him stay, like you can fuse yourself to him, like you can press him so deep inside you that he’ll never leave.

“Then stay,” you whisper.

Jungkook’s breath shudders against your skin, his fingers curling into your flesh like he wants to.

Like he wants to so fucking bad.

He doesn’t know what to do with this, with you, with the weight of everything pressing into his chest like a vice. He’s gripping onto you like you’ll slip through his fingers the second he lets go, like he’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll be nothing but a dream.

“Then stay.”

Your words echo in his skull, looping, endless, clawing at something deep inside him.

He can’t.

He wants to. But he can’t.

And so—he panics.

“Gonna miss this pussy so much,” he mutters, his voice strained, desperate, trying to ground himself in something, anything, trying to fill the unbearable silence that follows his own fucking admission. His hands skim down your back, gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin.

“Miss feeling you wrapped around me like this—”

You inhale sharply, body tensing, and—fuck.

No.

No, that’s not what you need.

Jungkook realizes it the second the words leave his mouth. The second he hears himself, hears how it sounds—like he’s trying to distract himself, like he’s trying to make this just about fucking when it’s so much more.

He hears the way your breath shakes, how your grip loosens ever so slightly, how you start to pull away—

And he panics again.

“Shit—baby—”

His body moves before his mind catches up.

He flips you over in one swift motion, pressing you into the mattress, his breath ragged, his heart pounding, something frantic and terrified behind his eyes as he cages you beneath him.

Your wide, tear-filled gaze meets his, your lip trembling, and Jungkook’s entire body locks up.

Fuck.

He nearly loses it right then and there. Nearly breaks. But instead—he just moves.

He doesn’t know how to make this better. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to fix the mess he’s made.

So he just— Kisses you.

Soft.

Deep.

He pours everything into it, every unspoken word, every apology, every ounce of guilt, every single part of him that belongs to you.

His hands trace up your sides, slow, deliberate, like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

Like he’s trying to hold on just a little longer.

Jungkook collapses against you.

All of his weight, all of his warmth, all of him—pressing you into the mattress, crushing you, suffocating you, swallowing you whole.

And you let him.

Because if he’s on you, if he’s in you, if he’s covering every inch of your body with his, then maybe—just maybe—you won’t have to face the sight of him leaving.

“Fuck—”

His breath stutters against your neck, his voice wrecked, helpless, and the only thing keeping him from fully melting into you is the slow, deep drag of his hips, the way he’s sinking into you like he never wants to leave.

Like he never wants to stop.

“Jungkook—”

His name leaves your lips in a desperate sob, your hands clawing at him, grasping, clutching, threading through his hair, pressing into his back, like you’re begging him to stay.

His jaw clenches, his fingers digging into the sheets on either side of your head, his entire body trembling with the weight of his own emotions.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice breaking, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I love you so much—please, please—”

Jungkook’s body locks up.

You feel the sharp, unsteady inhale against your throat, the way his hips slow, the way his entire frame shudders above you.

And then. He moves. Faster. Harder.

Like he’s trying to drown himself in you.

Like he’s trying to answer you in the only way he can.

“I don’t wanna go,” he chokes out, voice thick, breath ragged. His hands find yours, fisting them into the sheets, lacing your fingers together, grounding himself in the way you squeeze back. “Fuck, baby, I don’t wanna go—”

But he has to.

And you both know it.

You barely notice when Jungkook shifts, when he maneuvers you onto your side with him, pulling you flush against his chest, his body curving around yours like he’s shielding you from reality itself.

But you do notice the way he rolls his hips against you, slow, deliberate, grinding against your soaked, swollen folds like he’s trying to commit the sensation to memory.

And fuck—

Maybe he is.

“Jungkook—”

His name comes out in a breathy whimper, your head tipping back against his shoulder, your hand scrambling for purchase over the strong muscle of his forearm, his bicep—anything to keep you grounded.

Because his cock—hot, heavy, throbbing—keeps pressing against your entrance, sliding through the slick mess of your arousal, teasing, toying, like he wants to sink in but can’t bring himself to do it yet.

Like he isn’t ready.

“Shh, baby—” His voice is hoarse, thick with something unreadable. His lips press against your bare shoulder, dragging over your skin, his nose brushing along your throat as he breathes you in. “Just let me—”

His mouth trails lower.

And lower.

Until he reaches your chest.

His arm tightens around your waist as he dips his head, lips finding the curve of your breast, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there before his tongue flicks over your nipple.

And you swear—

It’s not even lustful.

It’s worship.

The way his mouth latches around the sensitive bud, the way his hand cups your other breast, kneading, memorizing, the way he hums against you, like he wants to take his time, like he wants to savor every inch of you.

“Jungkook, please—“

He shudders. You feel it against your spine, the way his breath stutters, the way his hips jerk forward, pressing his length right against where you need him.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, voice strained, mouth still pressing kisses over the swell of your chest, over your racing heart. “I know—”

And then he grabs your chin. Tilts your head back—forces you to look at him.

That’s his breaking point.

Because the second your glassy eyes meet his, the second he sees the devastation mirrored in them, the reality of it all crashes into him.

And he crumbles. “Fuck—”

A strangled sob rips from his throat as he buries his face in your neck, pressing impossibly closer, hips stuttering as he finally pushes inside.

And then—

You’re both crying.

Sobbing into each other’s skin, moaning between gasps of breath, holding onto one another like it’s the last time.

Because it is.

Jungkook’s hand slides under your neck, cradling it, supporting your head as he tilts your chin back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat to him. And then—

He pulls you closer.

Flush against him, like he wants to melt into you, fuse your bodies together until there’s nothing separating you anymore.

“Baby—” His voice is broken, wrecked, his breath hot against your skin as he presses his forehead into the back of your head, lips parting against your damp, heated flesh.

And then—

He opens you up.

His hand skims down, trembling fingers slipping between your thighs, urging them wider, needing to feel more of you, needing to bury himself so deep you’ll still feel him even after he’s gone.

And you let him.

You let him spread you open, let him take you, let him push in harder—

Until he’s slamming his hips against you in deep, desperate thrusts, shaking with the force of it, choking on every ragged breath, every shuddering gasp.

And god—

You’re both crying.

Crying into each other’s mouths, into each other’s skin, tears mixing with sweat as you claw at his arms, at the hand cradling your neck, clinging to him, needing him closer, harder, deeper.

“Jungkook—please—”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore.

To stay? To never stop? To love you forever?

But he does.

And it destroys him.

“I don’t wanna go—” he gasps, voice cracking, hips jerking forward as he buries his face in your neck, body shuddering against yours. “Fuck, baby, I don’t—I can’t—”

You feel his tears hot against your skin, feel the way his arms tighten around you like he’s afraid to let go, afraid to leave, and god—

You can’t stop touching him.

Your hands are everywhere—gripping his wrist where it holds your neck, clutching at his forearm, dragging over the sweat-slicked muscle of his thigh, his stomach, memorizing the hard planes of his body the way he’s trying to memorize you.

Because this—

This is all you have left.

Your hands come up—shaking, desperate—gripping his wrists, stopping him from moving.

And then—

You push him.

Jungkook barely has time to catch himself before he’s on his back, chest rising and falling in unsteady gasps as you hover above him, eyes wet, cheeks damp, tears slipping down your chin.

You sniffle, rubbing at them frantically, like if you just wipe them away, maybe this won’t feel so real.

But it is real.

He’s leaving.

And there’s nothing you can do about it.

A broken sob spills from your lips as you lower yourself back down, knees pressing into the mattress, hands trembling as you splay them over his chest—warm, solid, here.

And then—

You nuzzle into his neck.

Curl into him like you’re trying to disappear inside of him, like if you press yourself close enough, maybe you won’t have to let him go.

His hands find your hips, big and steady, guiding you gently—up, down, slow, like he’s trying to lull you, soothe you, even as his own breath shudders with restraint.

“Shh,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple, voice thick, aching.

But you can’t.

You can’t stop crying, can’t stop the way your fingers tangle in his hair, can’t stop the way your lips press to his forehead like you’re trying to imprint the words into him—

“I’ll miss you so much—”

A sharp inhale against your skin.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me—please, please don’t do this—”

His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, but it’s not enough.

It’ll never be enough.

You sniffle again, shaking your head, pressing your forehead against his, tears slipping between your lips as you whimper—

“I miss you—”

And Jungkook breaks. Because you say it like he’s already gone.

A strangled noise rips from his throat as his grip on your waist tightens, arms wrapping fully around you, locking you against him as he thrusts up, rolling his hips into yours, trying to chase something he doesn’t know how to hold onto.

“Baby, please—”

His voice cracks, raw, wrecked, and god—

He’s getting harder.

Because he can feel it—the grief, the desperation, the fucking longing—twisting into something unbearable, something that only makes him want you more, love you more, need you more.

“Please don’t say that,” he rasps, burying his face in your shoulder, breath hot, uneven. “I love you so much—so fucking much—”

And then—

He takes over.

Because your pace is faltering, your body trembling from the weight of it all, from the sheer, devastating force of what you’re about to lose.

And Jungkook—

Jungkook can’t let you bear it alone.

But then—

Jungkook pulls you back.

His hands come up—big, warm, trembling—and they cup your face, fingers pressing into the damp skin of your cheeks, thumbs catching stray tears that refuse to stop falling.

You resist.

You don’t want to look at him.

You can’t bear it.

But he won’t let you hide. “Baby—” His voice is a wreck, breathless and broken, and he forces your forehead against his, holds you there, his grip firm but careful, like he’s afraid you might shatter in his hands.

“I love you,” he murmurs, over and over, lips brushing yours with every shaky exhale. “I love you so fucking much, I’ll be back, I swear I’ll be back—”

And you just shake your head, tears slipping onto his skin, slipping between your lips as you sob.

“But you’ll be gone—”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

“You won’t be here—”

His chest is heaving, his entire body shuddering beneath you, his fingers digging into your skin as you whisper, “I’ll miss this. I’ll miss you.”

And then he breaks. “I know,” he chokes, voice cracking, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry—”

And then—

“Just—just let go for me.”

It’s not a command. It’s a plea.

Because it hurts—

It hurts to feel you like this, to hear you like this, to know that he’s about to leave you like this.

So you do. You let go. You both do.

You scream.

It’s not just pleasure.

It’s everything.

It’s grief and desperation and love and loss, and Jungkook takes it all, swallows it down as his own release rips through him, as he gasps into your mouth, as he lets go right alongside you.

And then—

Then he breathes.

He breathes into your mouth like it’s his only supply of air, like he’s trying to fill you with everything he has left to give.

Like if he breathes deep enough—

Maybe he can stay.

——

Jungkook is still moving inside you.

Barely.

Just these tiny, barely-there thrusts, like he’s trying to soothe you, like he’s trying to lull you down from everything, from the wreckage of it all.

Your sobs have quieted.

You’re just breathing now. Blank, staring past his shoulder, into the dark, your body heavy against him.

And Jungkook hates it.

He rubs a hand down your back, slow and steady, pressing you closer, whispering soft things against your temple—your name, baby, I love you, I’ve got you.

And then, gently— “Baby, can you lift yourself?”

You just shake your head. Barely make a sound, just this tiny, broken grunt that he feels more than hears.

And he laughs.

Sniffles, still recovering, his chest still shaking from the mess of it all, but he laughs—just a little, just enough.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, voice thick, and then—

He lifts you.

His cock bends in an uncomfortable way, and he hisses, but it slips out, and he doesn’t care—not about the sting, not about the way you’re leaking onto his stomach, not about anything except the way you nuzzle into his neck like you never want to leave.

And then—

“That was really fucking sad.” Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the words cut through the thick, heavy silence, and Jungkook laughs.

Like, actually laughs.

Because, fuck, it really was.

He keeps laughing for a second, shaking his head, still wiping at his face, still recovering, and then—

Then he softens. Then he looks at you, tucking the damp strands of hair away from your face, and says—

“I’m sorry.”

Soft, real.

And then he leans in, kisses your forehead the same way he always does—

The same way that makes your heart ache.

The same way that makes you feel loved.

And you breathe.

You breathe, and you whisper, “I know. I’m sorry for breaking down like that. I don’t know why—”

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head, firm. “No, you’re not the one who should be sorry right now. It’s me.”

And for a second, you don’t say anything.

You just look at him—his wet lashes, his swollen lips, the raw emotion still lingering in his eyes—

And then—

You press a kiss to his forehead.

Just soft. Just gentle.

And Jungkook freezes. Because you’ve never done that before.

His breath catches, his eyes flicker shut, and when he exhales, it’s shaky, but so, so full of warmth. Jungkook doesn’t say anything at first. He just breathes, coming down from the high of you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your bare hip, grounding himself in the warmth of your skin.

And then he sees the time.

Shit.

He doesn’t let you notice, though. He forces himself to stay in the moment for a little longer, brushing your hair back, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before he sits up, slipping out of bed.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You let him, let him help you into the bathroom, let him be gentle with you. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just wets a washcloth and runs it over your skin, his touch careful, reverent. He presses another kiss to your forehead before handing you a fresh pair of clothes.

“Go eat,” he says. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

You don’t argue, slipping into the kitchen while he gathers himself. When he finally comes out, you’re already halfway through your now cold pancakes, sitting on the counter, swinging your legs absentmindedly.

He watches you for a second, committing it to memory.

Then, finally, he checks the time.

Eight. He’s already late.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Baby, I gotta go.”

You pause mid-bite, your expression dropping just slightly before you school it into something neutral. “Oh,” you say. “Right.”

Jungkook steps between your legs, hands coming up to hold your face. You lean into his touch immediately, and something about it makes his chest ache.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your cheek.

You know he doesn’t just mean tonight.

You nod, forcing a small smile. “You’ll text me?”

“Of course.”

And then he kisses you, slow and lingering, like he’s trying to make it last. Like he wants you to remember.

You will.

Jungkook lingers in the doorway, looking at you like he doesn’t want to leave. Like he’s willing himself to step out, to break the moment before it breaks him.

“I love you,” he says, voice soft.

Your throat tightens. “I love you too.”

He presses one last kiss to your forehead, squeezing your waist before finally pulling away.

“Bye, baby,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard. “Bye.”

And then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut, and you just… stare at it.

You don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the counter, breakfast forgotten, staring at the empty space where Jungkook just was.

It’s weird.

For the past few months, every single day has had him in it. Whether it was just a text or a call or him physically showing up, he was always there.

And now, in two days, he won’t be.

Your stomach twists, and just as the overwhelming realization starts sinking in—

Your ringtone blares from your bedroom.

You already know who it is before you even check.

You scramble for your phone, pressing it to your ear.

“Hey, bitch, you getting ready?”

You barely have time to answer before your voice wobbles. “Yeah.”

There’s a pause.

“You sound sad,” Nari says suspiciously. “What’s up?”

And then— The floodgates open.

“I don’t want him to go,” you wail, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Oh—”

“I don’t, Nari! I really, really don’t!”

There’s a shuffle on the other end, like she’s sitting up straighter. “Oh, babe…”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I just— We just—” You suck in a breath, chest aching. “It was so much. It was—” You shake your head, unable to find the words. “It wasn’t just sex, it was—God, I don’t even know how to explain it.”

“Like love?” Nari offers gently.

You let out a watery laugh. “Yeah. Like love.”

She sighs, softer this time. “I know.”

“I can’t believe he’s leaving,” you whisper, staring blankly at your reflection in the mirror. Your mascara is already smudged again. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to wake up and not have him here. I don’t want to go back to how it was before—”

“You won’t,” Nari interrupts. “Even if he’s gone for a while, it’s not the same as before. He’s yours now, isn’t he?”

You open your mouth, then close it. Because… is he?

You’ve never said it out loud. Never defined it. But it feels like he is. Right?

“…God, I don’t know anymore,” you groan, rubbing your hands down your face. “I hate him.”

“You don’t,” she says simply.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

You huff, frustrated. “That’s the problem!”

Nari laughs, and despite everything, you find yourself smiling weakly.

A beat of silence. Then, gently, “You’ll be okay, babe. I promise.”

You take a deep breath, trying to believe her. “I’ve had to redo my mascara, like, seven times.”

She groans. “And you’re gonna redo it an eighth if you keep crying. Now hurry up before our boss has another meltdown.”

You sigh, sniffing one last time. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“…No, I don’t.”

“That’s my girl. Love you, bye.”

You close your eyes. “Love you, bye.”

You hang up, taking another deep breath, shaking off the sadness.

Work. You just have to get through work.

You pick up your mascara again. Round eight.

Nari pulls up to your building, glancing at you with a smug grin. You really didn’t wanna get the bus today, so Nari had kindly offered to take you.

“You look pitiful,” she says.

You groan, throwing your head back against the seat. “I literally just was crying, that’s not my fault.”

“No, it’s Jungkook’s.”

You glare at her. “So are you driving me to work, or what?”

She hums, dragging it out, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of effort.”

“Nari.”

“Maybe if you beg.”

You groan. “Pleaseeee, oh my god, you know you were gonna take me anyway—”

She smirks, finally shifting gears. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

“You’re a demon,” you grumble, crossing your arms as she pulls out.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

Unfortunately.

The drive is short, and Nari makes sure to grab your face before you step out, inspecting you like a concerned mother.

“Okay, you look fine. Let’s go.”

You drag yourself inside, already dreading the day.

The morning is slow, as usual. The diner hums with the same familiar sounds—the coffee machines, the occasional chatter, the soft rustling of newspapers from the old man who sits in the corner every morning without fail.

You’re zoning out, trying to will yourself to get back into your normal routine when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Jungkook [9:14AM]: are you at work rn? you probably are. just checking in.

You bite your lip, quickly typing back.

You [9:15AM]: yeah, just started. slow morning. where are you now?

It doesn’t take him long to reply.

Jungkook [9:15AM]: im close to my parents house now. kinda excited actually. but i miss you.

Your chest tightens a little.

You [9:16AM]: i miss you too.

You keep texting back and forth for a bit—him telling you about his plans for the day, you filling him in on how your boss has already screamed about a missing bag of coffee beans. It feels normal. Comfortable. Like he’s still here.

And for now, you let yourself enjoy that.

[vaaaaaiolet]

Your seasonally available secret-agent roommate got too into the holiday punch this year, and he's bursting with a secret you're not too keen on coming to terms with.

secret santa fic for @crsssie!! roommates + mistletoe + one serving of cuddling <3

HUGE thank you for setting up Leon Secret Santa 2024 and a HUGER apology for messing up the time 😭 i love you LOADS cressie and i hope this fic has banter that lives up to the wonderful dialogue in your fics <3 MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

gn / m, romance, fluff, BANTER, leon is SO BAD at feelings, roommates au, angst / slight miscommunication trope + drunken confessions, close your eyes and ignore canon for me <3 no mention of pronouns but reader has bobby pins in their hair cw: alcohol / drunkenness

word count: 1.5k // read on ao3

“Shit, I didn’t-”

“Open your eyes, Leon! You’re going to fall, just hold on to me, we’re almost-”

“...don’t need you to,” he slurs, “I got it!”

Leon, of course, has got nothing at all besides shitfaced drunk. Your key is currently deciding not to fit into the convoluted lock he’d decided was absolutely necessary for your shared apartment. It was something about you having the fighting talent of a bedbound sloth (completely subjective opinion, you’d argued) and him being out of the country every few weeks.

The snow must’ve frozen it over while you two were out tonight, and between shouldering 165 pounds of muscle mass while manifesting a bobby pin into existence from your now-bedraggled hairdo to work into the keyhole, the start of Christmas Day is starting to look like Mission Impossible. 

“Don’t make this harder for me,” you plead to both your problems. 

The lock seems to be the only one to listen. Please, please – yes! The mahogany door to the apartment swings open, and you shoulder in your precious cargo, tracking snow all over the floor that’s sure to melt into sludge come morning. Luckily, the chore chart’s on your side tomorrow: Leon’s due for mopping. 

Once he wakes up from his alcohol induced nap, that is. And then you’ll have your fun. 

You deposit him on the couch faster than your paycheck, and your lungs inflate three sizes once his back makes contact with the cushions. “God, you’re heavy,” you pant, wiping your forehead.

“‘Cause you don’t go to the gym with me. Gotta get stronger.”

“I’ll quit my job and get buff once you start paying more than a third of the rent, yeah?”

Leon snorts. “‘m only here a third of the time anyway,” he says under his breath. 

He’s right, of course. The rent split was your idea, fair and square. But you pretend he isn’t. Pretend that it doesn’t hurt, either, like his punches when he tries to teach you self-defense whenever he’s free.

A cherub ornament must’ve fallen from the Christmas tree in the kitchen and crashed on your couch. Frosty blue eyes flutter open to gaze up at you from the cushions. There’s roses in Leon’s pale cheeks, flushed from the outdoors combined with him drinking his head off tonight, and when a wistful, angelic expression spreads across his face, you wish the snowstorm outside would’ve frozen over your heart instead of the door lock. 

He crooks a finger at you. Whispers like it hurts him, “Got somethin’ to tell ya.”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah?”

“‘s goddamn freezing in here.”

Unbelievable. You throw a couch cushion at his chest and he has the nerve to giggle while you stomp away to shut the front door. “You shouldn’t have gotten so drunk, Leon, what were you thinking?” you scold the subzero air. 

“I can handle my drinks!” he shouts back.

“Then why are you passed out on my couch?”

And despite having your back to him almost ten feet away, you can practically hear his brow scrunch at your words. “Thought it was our couch.”

You wave a flippant hand. “You know what I mean.”

“But you’re right,” he barks out a laugh. “Should be yours. All of it, I…I shouldn’t be here.”

He might be the one drunk tonight, but you’re the one feeling that telltale nausea all of a sudden. Leon’s laugh never makes your stomach roil like this. Screw all the little catches and springs – you twist the biggest one on the door’s lock closed and power walk back to the living room, taking a kneel on the couch next to Leon’s head. He’s turned to the other side now, broad back facing you. Tit for tat. 

“What are you talking about?” Digging your fingers into his right delt, you pry him back to look him in the eye, barely keeping the alarm out of your voice. 

“Uh, coins. Lotsa coins in the couch.” Leon fishes out a dime, shoots you a plastic excuse of a smile like you were born yesterday, “Yours?”

You shake his shoulder. “Don’t play dumb with me, come on. What did you say about you not being here?” 

“Mistletoe too, so much stuff in here…” 

You don’t even spare it a second glance, snatching the sprig out of his fingers. “What’s going on?” you ask, voice trembling. 

Because truth be told, security obsession and his pain-in-the-ass work schedule besides, you really can’t imagine living with anyone else. 

It’s been a year with Leon, your mysterious government agent roommate, the one who you’d spent nights hunched over the kitchen counter with corner store ramen. You’d gripe over your shitty coworkers, he’d threaten to tear them each a new one, and you’d half-pretend to beg him not to. And then you’d both couch surf until the sunrise, with you ending up cuddling into his chest and magically tucked into bed the next morning with your share of the chores done before Leon left for the day.

Leon’s shoulder was always there for you to cry on after failed first dates. It was the one favor you couldn’t pay back in kind; the man seemed to have zero interest in dating with a curious tendency to grow quiet whenever the question got brought up. But for him, you kept your first aid kit stocked. You’ve lost count of how many times you’d stayed up past two AM cleaning his cuts and icing his bruises upon his return home. 

It was a shared agreement. He kept his secrets, you got a built-in best friend. Or at least you thought you did before now.

Your throat stings. “Is this why you drank so much? You didn’t have the guts to tell me you hate living together?” You crumple the hem of his sweater in your fist.

The faraway look in Leon’s eyes clears instantaneously once he registers what’s starting to spill down your cheeks. 

Your next demand comes out riddled with cracks. “You have to be h-honest, Leon, promise me. Why don’t you want to stay?”

“Then you’ll stop crying?” 

Leon’s hands clumsily drift up to cup your cheeks, but the world’s gone full snowglobe through your haze of tears. You don’t pay them any mind, nodding fervently. 

“It’s you,” he breathes. 

You smell the mulled wine in his breath. Your holiday once-favorite, sweet and and now sickening. You’re a bruised peach, frostbitten and smashed under his Timberlands. Leon had it all wrong; it wasn’t the front door that needed to be padlocked, it was your stupid heart and the creeping realization that you’d tried to stave off with all those horrible dates and more excuses to fall asleep in his arms. 

The thing Leon did get right, though, was that you had no fighting chance. How could you let him break his way so completely into your life? He wasn’t even here half the time and here you are, fighting the clock to greet him home like he even wanted you there. 

You shake your head, interrupting the thumbs trying to wipe away your tears. “That’s fine. Yeah. Totally fine,” you sniffle, putting on your customer service brave face.

“No,” Leon frowns. 

“If I’m such a horrible roommate, we can sto-”

“No,” he repeats firmly. “Don’t…ugh,” he claps a hand to his forehead, the alcohol headache hot on his heels. 

“Don’t what?” you cry.

“Not helping,” Leon grits.

“Sorry for being sad that I’ll miss my best friend? I don’t know what you want me to-”

There’s a sharp pull on your wrist. With an exasperated sigh, Leon lifts the fist at your side with the sprig of mistletoe still in it above your head. You get one, maybe two seconds to wonder how he remembered it was there before his lips collide with yours, his calloused palm guiding your cheek towards his cherry-flavored mouth. The wind knocks out of you – more than that time you dared him to throw you over his shoulder.

The mistletoe falls out of your fingers. Leon’s thumb brushes the last tear out of the corner of your eye and mulled wine becomes your favorite again.

“Didn’t have the guts to say I liked ya,” he mumbles, and your heart skips. Leon’s smiling. 

“You’d rather move out than admit you like me?” you tease, breathless, arms circling around his neck the way they always do when he princess carries you. 

“Sweetheart, y’know me.”

And yeah, you do. Nobody else does quite like you.

“Stupid.” You let him kiss you a moment more before pulling away; you can’t help that his frowny face is your favorite expression on him when he’s drunk. “And you know what happens when you pull stupid stunts like that?”

Leon blinks at you, the consequences of bad backflipping flashing through his head. “Don’t want plunger duty!” he groans, flopping back onto the couch.

He’ll be wishing the toilet rats a Merry Christmas, poor guy. Your guy. You’ll just have to wait to cuddle him after he takes an hour-long shower.

@leonsecretsanta MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL!! link to my masterlist lol

dividers by @/strangergraphics!

[dirtyvulture]

Envy and Venom - Part 3

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4990

AN: Y'all are getting fed with this one. Have fun. :)

Click here for Part 2!

Thanks to @mostlymarvelsstuff for helping with some Russian translations lol.

DAY 34

“Do you have everything ready? Your presentation, your notes?” your dad asks.

“Yes, yes,” you tell him for what feels like the thousandth time. 

“This is where the comeback starts,” your dad says, and sometimes you wish he would just claim back his title. You were sick and tired of his coaching, even if you needed it a little bit. But if Envy Industries had gotten into this mess because of you, then you were the only person who could get them out of it. “I know I can’t be there in person–”

“I know, I know,” you dismiss. You were well aware of his vacation plans to the Maldives with his new girlfriend. Besides Envy, it was the only thing he wanted to talk about nowadays. But you still didn’t even know her name, and were certain he’d find a new one before the end of his trip.

“Tony will be there with you, right? He’ll keep you on track,” your dad continues, inching into sensitive territory now. Even though he denied it every time you confronted him, you knew he was always worried about you stepping into the CEO role because you were a woman. Hearing the doubts from the public and the competition hardly bothered you, but from your own father, it was like a punch to the face. Especially when you were not exactly proving him wrong given how things had played out since your first day.

“Who cares if Tony is there or not?” you snap, losing your patience. “He’s not the one giving the presentation. He’ll just be standing behind the curtain, stealing all the free merch, and–”

“Okay, that’s enough,” your dad cuts you off. “I want you to call me again tomorrow. We’ll run over your presentation again–”

“I’ll think about it.” You slam the handset on the receiver, a satisfying motion that could not be accomplished with modern telephonic devices. You try not to give the upcoming presentation any more thought–it was already stressing you out enough. Maybe an hour in the gym would take your mind off things. 

Your decision made, you step away from your desk to your private walk-in closet, rifling through the selection of workout clothes hanging there. All of them were custom-cut to your exact body dimensions to ensure the best fit and look. Although you were no professional athlete, you treated yourself as if you were one (and you certainly looked the part). 

But right now, you couldn’t care less what you looked like or what you were wearing as you grabbed the first set of clothes you could reach, slipping them on and grabbing your Louis Vuitton gym bag, monogrammed with your initials. You lightly jog out of your office, moving fast enough that people will think you’re in a rush and not stop you. The gym is on the tenth floor of the building, and because it’s just after lunch, most people are back at their desks. But you set your own schedule, so you’re happy to find that it isn’t too crowded and you quickly get warmed up before you start lifting.

In between sets, you check your phone, a bad habit that doesn’t exist when you’re with your training coach, but he’s not around to scold you, so you can do as you please. In the tracking app, Natasha’s red dot blinks in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, hardly three miles away from your current location in Envy Industries. 

She was hanging out at Black Widow Corporation headquarters, just where you expected her to be. She had an unsurprisingly predictable schedule, splitting her time just between work and home, which you discovered was in an apartment just a few blocks down the street from yours. You wonder if she lived on her own or with her father, who was likely paying for her housing either way. 

Natasha was not quite the self-made woman that you were. Her work was significantly more behind the scenes, which was one reason why you had never heard of her before. Alexei Shostakov was the only name you associated with Black Widow Corp. But you had done your own digging on her and her family the past few days. There was frustratingly little about Natasha and you were ready to hire a private investigator due to your lack of results. 

All you had learned was that she had graduated magna cum laude from Virginia Tech with a degree in economics, where she also held a brief internship at the university’s infamous Gamma Lab before it was shut down after the sudden death of its lead researcher. You assumed she had gone immediately to work for Black Widow Corp after her graduation; there was no other work history for her anywhere. No social media, no public interviews. This woman fascinated you more and more. 

After a final set of deadlifts, you re-rack all the weights because you’re not that much of a heathen and check your phone again. Natasha is no longer at Black Widow Corp, her red dot moving steadily through 86th Street that cut through Central Park. Your heart rate jumps, and not because of your workout. You sit down on a bench to steady yourself, watching as the red dot continues through Central Park. When she turns right on Park Avenue, you know exactly where she’s heading.

Hopefully you could intercept her first.

***********************************************************************

“Where are you going?” 

Natasha curses under her breath as she turns around to see Yelena standing in the lobby, her arms crossed over her chest like a scorned mother catching her child sneaking out of the house.

“What?” Natasha rounds on her sister, annoyed that she’s been watching her like a hawk.

“The board of directors meeting starts in seven minutes,” Yelena says, and Natasha curses under her breath because she forgot all about that.

“Dad can handle it without me,” Natasha replies, eager to get the heat off of her as soon as she can.

“They’ll be talking about CES,” Yelena reminds her, referencing the important annual show where the biggest tech companies came together in Vegas to reveal their newest inventions and products.

“You’re not going to CES,” Natasha points out, surprised her sister even knows its proper name. Since the company was going to fall on her shoulders once their father stepped down, Natasha had spent almost the entirety of her adult life learning, training, and breathing business and technology. Yelena had been able to pursue her own hopes and dreams, starting in the private security field until she had enough experience (and enough of Dad’s money) to start her own company. She was happy and thriving, something Natasha was endlessly jealous of.

Yelena had never experienced the pressure of managing billions of dollars in and out the door. She didn’t know what it was like to fight off every insecure man who couldn’t bear to do a business deal with a woman. She hadn’t spent hundreds of hours trying to learn coding languages and complicated mathematics and equations on her own. Yelena didn’t understand what Natasha had spared her from, and Natasha was afraid she would never be grateful for it.

“Yes, but you’re going to CES,” Yelena says.

“You’re not my babysitter,” Natasha snaps, turning away and marching towards the door. 

“You’re going to see her again, aren’t you?”

“What?” Natasha stops. “Who the hell are you talking about?”

“That CEO you’re in love with.”

“Excuse me?” But Natasha’s face is flaming red as she struts over to confront her sister. “I am not in love with anyone. You know that.”

“You seem to be spending an awful lot of time with that CEO.”

“No, I’m not.”

Yelena smirks. “I own a private security company, sestra. You don’t think I know my own sister’s whereabouts and who she’s with?”

Natasha’s heart sinks, but she tries not to let it show. “Why can’t you ever just mind your own fucking business?” she growls, immediately regretting the harshness of her words when she sees her sister’s face fall. But she’s too proud to take it back.

“I don’t think it’s safe if you keep seeing her,” Yelena says. “And you don’t know what it could do for the company–”

“Why do you care about the company so much all of a sudden?” Natasha counters. “Dad’s not giving it to you when he steps down.”

“I don’t want it,” Yelena replies, although she looks hurt. “But to be quite honest, I don’t like what it’s turning you into.”

“Which is what?”

“This!” Yelena waves her arms at Natasha frantically. “It’s always ‘Black Widow this, Black Widow that.’ You don’t have any hobbies anymore. You never eat dinner with the rest of the family. You don’t go out unless it’s to see that CEO–”

Natasha interrupts her with a huff. “You wouldn’t understand, Yelena,” she says, trying a different approach and maintaining complete calm. “You can just stay holed up in your one-windowed office to spy on people and let the real adults go out in the real world and handle real shit.” With that, she spins on her heel and storms out of the building. 

***********************************************************************

“Why are you into shooting all of a sudden? Have you ever even held a gun before?” Tony asks, staring at you with a dropped jaw.

You shrug. “I need some new hobbies,” you lie.

“You’re not going to shoot someone with it, are you?” he half-jokes, his chuckle quickly dying up when you don’t laugh with him.

“No, of course not,” you mumble unconvincingly.

“Okay, well, when do you need the gun by?” he asks.

“How fast does Bucky work?”

Tony shrugs. “If I call him now, he can have one to me by the end of the day.”

“Okay.” The sooner the better, because it gave you less time to back out of your plan. “That works.”

“So, are we going big-game hunting in Africa this summer?” Tony asks, giving you a sharp nudge before starting his car.

“Maybe, maybe…” But you have a different target in mind.

The gun is surprisingly heavy, oily, and unfamiliar in your palm. Bucky had gone over the four “rules” of gun handling, which shocked you that he even knew:

Treat every gun like it was loaded

Don’t point it at something you aren’t willing to shoot.

Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.

Be mindful of your target and what’s around it.

He had given you a full box of ammo for “good luck” too, before jumping back into his car and driving away faster than you could read his license plate.

Currently, you sit in the darkness of your apartment, weighing the gun in your hand. Your heart is beating so hard against your ribcage you swear you can hear it. 

You check your phone. Natasha’s just parked her car in the parking garage. It should only take her a few minutes to ride the elevator up. You hadn’t even bothered to change out of your workout clothes, worried that she would arrive at your apartment before you did, but you had just barely made it on time.

Her red dot blinks in place on your screen. She’s in the elevator.

Your eyes flit to the front door, the gun feeling even heavier in your hand. 

The seconds drag on. 

You hold your breath for as long as you can between inhalations, heart pounding, ears straining for any sound of movement outside your apartment door.

Beep, beep.

A key card–yours–registers at the door lock. The handle pushes down from the outside and you snap to attention. 

Don’t miss, you tell yourself.

The door parts open, almost hesitantly, like your uninvited intruder is suddenly unsure of themselves. In the darkness, you see a figure slip through the door and close it behind her. Her body shape gives her away immediately. The thick thighs in black jeans, the curve of her hips leading up to her narrow waist, the fullness of her bosom stretching out the tight shirt she’s wearing.

When Natasha steps into the light, she freezes when she sees you sitting at the kitchen table, gun cocked in her direction.

“It’s about time you showed up,” you greet. “Building security didn’t question you when you used my key card to get in?”

“Clearly not,” Natasha says, her stance tense and wary.

“Come sit down. We should talk,” you invite, gesturing with the gun and breaking Bucky’s rule number one. Natasha stiffly walks towards you, her face an impassive shadow. You’ve never seen her genuinely scared before and it delights you that for once, you have the upper hand on her. You kick out a chair and she sits next to you. 

“Didn’t expect this, did you?” you ask. “Probably thought you could just waltz right in here and steal more of my shit?”

“Y/N–”

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re tired of listening to her excuses. You rest the gun on the table. “Is Black Widow going to CES?”

“Yes,” she says. “Like we do every year–”

“Well, there’s going to be some changes this year,” you interrupt. “Get your phone out. Call your dad. Black Widow Corp is going to be a no-show this year.”

Natasha balks. “That…That won’t be possible.”

You pick the gun back up and point it at her, breaking rule number two. “Then make it possible.”

“You won’t shoot me.”

“You don’t think this is real?” You point the gun at the table. Rule number three. You pull the trigger. Rule number four. The gun bucks in your hand, the blast reverberating around your apartment with enough power to rattle your teeth. Natasha flinches even though you hadn’t aimed anywhere near her. “No one can hear us,” you say with a chuckle. “I had the apartment soundproofed years ago to stop the neighbors from complaining.” 

She stares at the gun.

“Take your phone out now. And call your dad.” You hope you don’t have to ask again.

With shaking hands, she finally obeys, placing her phone on the table. “Put it on speakerphone,” you demand. Natasha presses a few buttons and you hear the dial-up tone.

“Privet, doch',” Alexei booms.

“English,” you hiss.

“Hi, Dad,” Natasha says, side-eyeing you uncertainly. “We, uh…We need to talk about CES.”

“Good, I just got out of the meeting with the board–”

“Black Widow can’t show up this year.”

Alexei’s surprise is palpable. “What, Natasha? What are you talking about?”

“We need to call off our appearance,” she says, her voice shaking. “Just for this year. We’ll go again next year like we normally do–”

“What’s wrong with this year?” Alexei asks.

Natasha looks at you, her eyes begging. You shake the gun to remind her you’re serious. “I…uh…I don’t think our tech is ready for the show,” she says. “You know how disastrous it can be if we unveil something that isn’t completely ready.”

“But we’ve been working on Project Transformer for months, Natasha. It’s plenty ready–”

“No. Dad, please.” She grits her teeth. “I was looking through the code last night with the engineers. There’s a bug in the programming. It’s going to take at least a few weeks to smooth out. We can’t debut right now, Dad.”

Alexei curses in Russian. “Shit. The board really liked our presentation.”

“I know.”

“I wish you would have told me earlier.”

“I know,” Natasha repeats. “But we only just discovered it this week.” 

There is more silence, punctuated by Russian grumblings from Alexei. “Okay, okay. I’ll make a few calls. Too bad we’ll be losing out on our reservation fee too.”

“It’s a small price to pay.” Natasha’s eyes dart to you again. “Sorry for all the trouble, Dad.”

“Where are you?” Alexei asks. “We missed you at the meeting.”

“I’m out.”

“Will you come to dinner tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. Proshchay, dorogaya.”

“Bye, Dad.” Alexei hangs up first.

You slowly clap your hands. “Good girl. Was that so hard?” Your chest swells with pride at your achievement. Maybe now she would have more respect for you. You know she only saw you as a piece of meat. But you were much, much more than that.

“Fuck you,” Natasha spits.

“Oh, are we still doing that?” You put the gun down on the table, this time facing it away from her. You part your legs slightly, inviting her between them. Natasha glares at you with emerald daggered eyes. “Don’t be shy, baby,” you say, your voice deepening. “I got what I wanted today. It’s only fair you don’t leave here empty-handed too.”

Natasha shoots up and marches over to you. For a second, you think she’s going to hit you, but instead she straddles your lap and kisses you so hard you’re sure she’s bruised your lips. The ferocity is both frightening and arousing as she tears off your workout shirt and shorts. She palms at your left breast roughly, sinking her nails into your abs and dragging them down to your belly button. You groan into her mouth when she bites your bottom lip. She’s never been this aggressive with you before, but you know she’s taking out her frustration on you.

And you absolutely love it.

“Now that I’m done fucking with your company, you want me to fuck you until you can’t walk?” you whisper, shoving your bare thigh between her legs. The friction from her jeans burns your skin, but you hardly register the pain. 

“You’ll have to carry me out,” Natasha says, trailing her fingers down the vein on your bicep.

“Deal.” You kiss her again, slipping your muscular arms under her thighs and standing up with her. You carry her to your bed, leaving her to undress while you grab your strap from its drawer and slip it over your legs. When you turn back, she’s shimmying off her lacy black panties and the feral urge to keep your promise overrides all your senses. 

You pick her back up and she hooks her legs around your waist, her arms circling your neck. She presses her naked chest against yours, both of you moaning in unison when your nipples brush together. You walk with her until Natasha’s back bumps into the wall, shifting her weight off your arms to the wall. You maneuver your right hand to grab onto your strap, lining it up with Natasha’s center. 

“Are you ready for me?” you ask, rubbing the tip of your cock over her soaking entrance. Natasha’s whines at your teasing, her fingers tangling in your hair and jerking at your roots painfully. 

“Fucking ruin me,” she begs.

You slam your hips forward, burying your entire cock in her in one move. Natasha screams, tearing her nails down your back. Your big hands grip onto her waist to hold her in place as you thrust into her tight heat, your abs flexing and tensing. Natasha’s body rolls with yours, her head falling back against the wall, exposing the perfect column of her neck to you. You lean forward to decorate it with your marks, so every time she undresses for the next week, she’ll be reminded of you.

The only item of “clothing” she still wears is a thin silver necklace with a rectangular charm hanging from the chain. It bounces in the hollow of her throat every time you thrust into her.

“Y/N, oh, Y/N,” Natasha chants, music to your ears as you keep your relentless pace. Your thighs, already spent from your gym session, are absolutely on fire now, so you need her to finish quickly before you drop her. You shift the angle of your hips, bumping the top of your cock against her clit with every stroke. Natasha squirms and moans, trying to find a rhythm with you, but she’s so close she can’t match you at all. 

“Tell me when you’re gonna cum, baby,” you pant. 

“Soon,” she moans. “Go harder. Don’t stop.”

You’re afraid you’re going to break her with how hard you’re thrusting into her. But finally, her body tenses in your hands and you know she’s finished all over your cock. You’re grateful to slow your thrusts as she comes down from her high, your entire body sweaty and buzzing with adrenaline. You slip your arms under her quivering thighs and stumble back to the bed, collapsing onto it with your legs hanging off the edge, Natasha panting on top of you. 

You’re not sure who’s more exhausted, you or her. You lay there unmoving, trying to catch your breath, which Natasha does before you. She sits up, slowly pulling your cock out of her and crawling up your body to kiss you messily. Her tongue slips into your mouth, but you’re too tired to return her fervor very much. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Am I too much for you?” she teases, cupping your chest and pinching your nipples. 

“No, just give me a minute,” you grumble. It was rare to meet someone with stamina like hers. And as much as you prided yourself on yours, you feel like you may have met your match with Natasha Romanoff. Your arms and chest are covered in her scratch marks, and your back still stings a little. Natasha traces the scratches gently.

“Mine,” she murmurs.

“Hmm?” you grunt, not sure if you heard her correctly.

She props herself up on your chest to look at you. “I can give you a minute,” she purrs, her voice becoming husky and seductive. Natasha slides down your body, resting her knees on the floor and tugging the harness of your strap down your legs. You can hardly lift your hips high enough off the bed to help her, embarrassed by how tired you are. Natasha grabs your calves to lift your feet up one at a time to remove the harness and throw it to the side. She rubs her hand  across your defined abdomen, stoking the fire in your belly again.

“Don’t move, baby,” she says. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Huh?” You lift your head high enough to see Natasha’s head between your legs, her mouth lowering onto you. It’s like a lightning bolt of pleasure that shoots through your core and you moan loudly in appreciation. Natasha makes eye contact with you as she slips her tongue into you, smiling as you pant and squirm. 

“Oh, God. Fuck me,” you gasp, dropping your head back on the bed. Your hands claw at the sheets as her tongue explores your walls. Natasha pushes apart your muscular thighs to make more room for her, pushing so deep into you her nose bumps against you. Your chest heaves as you struggle to breathe evenly, arching your lower back off the bed in a silent plea for more. 

Natasha eats you out like she’d been starving for a week, her tongue alternating between swirling around your throbbing clit and pushing through your clenching walls.

You finally find the strength to lift your right leg, twisting it sideways at the knee and hooking it around the back of Natasha’s head, pressing your calf against her scalp and dragging her closer. You reach down with your hand to tangle it in Natasha’s flaming red hair, pushing her down so she isn’t tempted to pull away right when you reach the edge of release. 

“Nat,” you whine. “Please, baby. You’re gonna make me cum.”

Natasha hums against you, the vibrations finally causing you to lose control. Your entire body goes limp as Natasha cleans up all the slick between your legs, then climbs back up to rest on you like you’re her personal pillow.

“Gimme a kiss,” you mumble and Natasha presses her lips to yours obediently. She tucks her head in the crook of your collarbone and you stroke her hair absently. “If I fall asleep, are you gonna leave again before I wake up?” you ask, your voice sounding small. 

“Only if you want me to,” Natasha murmurs. 

“I know I’m supposed to hate you, but I don’t know if I can,” you admit.

“Then don’t,” Natasha says. “Because I was thinking about it too, and…I think we should go public.”

“Public? Like us being…” You can’t even finish your own sentence.

“Mhmm.” Natasha nods against your chest.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” you scoff.

“No, I’m fucking you.”

“And you’re done. Right?” Your eyebrows scrunch together at the dual meaning of your words. Natasha doesn’t say anything. “At the very least, you owe me fifteen-billion-dollars before we can go public about anything,” you say, referencing the amount your company lost in the last month when Black Widow Corp pulled the rug out from under your feet.  

“Done.” Natasha searches around your bed for her phone. “What’s your bank account number?” 

“What are you doing? Seriously.” You’re a little lost now. 

“Well, our dads spent all their time fighting each other,” she says.

“Not fucking?” you joke.

“I can’t confirm that,” she says with a smirk. “But I was thinking about it. And I know Envy hasn’t been doing so well lately–”

“Because you sabotaged our contracts and stole our ideas,” you remind her.

Again, Natasha does not confirm nor deny this fact. “But what if instead of competing, we…helped each other out?”

“Like a collaboration?” you ask. Your father had specifically warned you against any kind of “collaboration” work with another company. You weren’t running a YouTube channel. You had a multibillion-dollar business. It was your responsibility to look out for the well-being of your company and your company only, damn philanthropic endeavors, personal favors, and relationships.

“We can work something out,” Natasha insists.

“Did you go through all of this just to ask me that?” you ask.

“No.” Now, Natasha looks away from you. “I mean, at first, yes. I thought you would just be a hot one-night stand. And yes, you were–” You raise an eyebrow. “–But you’re also a lot more than that.” Validation burns through your veins to hear this. “You’re smart, you know the tech, and you know how to run a business. And you’re the hottest CEO in the country and the best person who’s ever taken me to bed,” Natasha says. You think you’re going to combust at the praise. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about us. And what we could accomplish together.”

It takes a few seconds to let her words process. “I don’t know how this could work,” you say, the logical side of you taking over for once. “We’re not regular people, Nat. The future of this country is literally in our hands. The public watches our every move and criticizes every decision we make. People like us need whole PR teams to manage their relationships.”

“Fuck the PR teams,” Natasha says. “If we like each other, then why can’t we be together?”

It had been years since you had publicly been in a relationship with someone. After all, it was so much simpler to cycle through partners and not have to worry about commitment or any long-term decisions. But deep down, you were cripplingly lonely and terrified you wouldn’t be able to find someone who would settle with you. 

Because truth be told, your lifestyle was not for many. Most people couldn’t handle the pressure you were subjected to every day. The never-ending torrents of judgment. The borderline-criminal way you were stalked by reporters and paparazzi. The unreal expectations you were held to by people you’d never even met.

But out of all the people you had ever been with, Natasha Romanoff was the one with the best chance of understanding all that. She knew what she was getting herself into, because your life would be her reality the day her father passed on the company. Of course it wouldn’t hurt her to get some practice beforehand.

“I want you to be mine,” Natasha says suddenly. She reaches up to her neck, her fingers brushing the hickeys you left there, before unclipping the silver necklace. She puts it around yours, flipping the charm around so you can see that it reads “Natasha.”

“Baby…” You didn’t even care what your dad’s reaction to hearing the news would be. How would the public react? The consumers? The shareholders? At your level, it was unavoidable crossing the line between professional and personal interests. People would either cheer you on or vow to never use another Envy product again.

But Envy had been tanking ever since you took the helm. Maybe this was what you needed to bounce back…courtesy of the same woman who ruined you in the first place. The math seemed to add up–Natasha would cancel out herself, wouldn’t she?

Natasha interlaces her fingers with yours, distracting your thinking. “We could be the most powerful couple in the tech industry. In the world,” she says. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“Yes,” you sigh, although that’s not really the truth. There was one thing you wanted more than power, money, and fame.

“Then don’t be afraid, sweetheart.” She squeezes your fingers. “With me, you’ll have everything you want and more.”

A rush of emotions suddenly overwhelms you–fear, annoyance, love, envy, and venom. You would kick yourself in the head if you missed out on the chance to be with Natasha, but you also weren’t entirely convinced this was the right move. 

“Y/N.” The way she says your voice is desperate and pleading, like she too can’t be without you.

“Okay.” You make up your mind in an instant. “Okay, baby. Let’s do it.”

Natasha beams, snuggling closer to you. The two of you say nothing further, and her steady breathing quickly lulls you to sleep. Natasha holds onto you even as she feels your body relax under her. She turns her head to look at the gun you left on the table, wondering what it would feel like in her hand, to hold against your head.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: These two are for real going to be the death of me. 😩

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[symphoniahime]

✩ drst hcs ~ in denial

prompt. him being heavily in denial about his feelings for you and if/when he’d finally realize it. split into three sections — him & you (how & why the denial starts) + him & co. (another character’s reaction to his denial) + feelings realization. gender neutral reader.

ft. hyoga, tsukasa, & ukyo

warning. spoilers for most recent eps. ahead , angst

a/n — I think this concept is fun! less characters bc there’s 3 sections per character! enjoy this fun little game of denial! also, i will say that hyoga’s characterization is largely based on his later manga appearances! there are no spoilers, but you don’t get to see a lot of good hyoga until the manga <//3 anyway! enjoy!

☁️ hyoga akatsuki ;;

him & you ~ how it starts

• Given his nature, Hyoga would be in denial for quite some time before ever realizing that he actually likes you. After all, in his mission to build a world where only the strong and proper are revived, is there really any room for romance?

• The answer, of course, happens to be yes, even if he didn’t mean to fall for you.

• Usually, Hyoga would view kindness as yours as limiting and weak. How can anyone survive in a battle of survival of the fittest if they refuse to be ruthless?

• However… your kindness does something to him. He’s used to being treated with respect, reverence, or fear. Experiencing genuine kindness from you— kindness from one person to another— is an entirely new experience. He’s never been treated with warmth and smiles without an ulterior motive.

• Pacifist or not, your kindness is only further enhanced by your other skills. Witnessing you in your element further grows Hyoga’s affection for you. Your warmth got his eyes on you, and your skills kept him watching.

• But… surely he’s only watching you because you’re a proper ally, right? He’s merely surprised by how capable you turned out to be behind that soft heart. That’s why you’ve caught his attention.

• Hyoga treats you noticeably kinder than others. Even when he’s around people he respects— like Homura or Tsukasa— he maintains distance. With you, he’s a little warmer— more willing to entail conversation he’d see as nonsensical otherwise.

• On top of that, Hyoga is adamant on keeping you away from trouble. When he starts to suspect Gen’s loyalty, he tries his best to keep you far from the mentalist. What if Gen pulled you to the other side? How would he keep you safe then?

• He keeps trying to reason with himself that he merely feels this way because you’re a proper ally, and it’d be a shame to lose skills like yours. He’ll ignore his fluttering heart and the smiles behind his mask if it means keeping you at a distance and never admitting how he feels.

• Because if he admits it and he loses you, he’s certain he’ll risk becoming much weaker. And that’s not something he can afford.

him & co. ~ another character’s reaction — asagiri gen

• Hyoga, though he acts subtle about his favoritism toward you, isn't as discreet as he likely thought he was. Then again, it’s hard to hide things from a mentalist, even if Hyoga wears a mask.

• Gen notices a change in Hyoga’s demeanor a few weeks after you’re revived. Before you were around, Hyoga would make himself scarce— training in solitude— if no one needed him or he had no duties for the day.

• Beforehand, Tsukasa and Homura were the only people Hyoga gave the time of day. He’d hardly ever entertain conversation with another soul unless absolutely necessary. All to say, he was something of a lone wolf.

• Then, you’re revived. And suddenly, Gen sees a lot more of Hyoga around and hears him talking a lot more than he used to.

• Hyoga still trains, but he makes it a point to idle around and wait for you to also be free before walking off with you so you can keep him company while he trains.

• You’re the only one Hyoga actively talks with, and from what Gen has overheard, it’s hardly a business talk. Your conversation topics with Hyoga always include life, family, and who Hyoga is. Surprisingly, Hyoga doesn’t brush you off— diligently answering your questions and even asking some of his own.

• Gen also notices that when Hyoga isn’t around, you’re also notably absent. Gen once thought it was you clinging to Hyoga… but soon realizes it’s quite the opposite. Actually, he overheard Hyoga asking to be assigned to the same work with you when he’s able, or he merely finishes his own duties before seeking you out.

• Gen is quick to realize what it is. However, when he musters up the courage to ask Hyoga about it, he’s not shocked to hear the man vehemently deny it— going as far as calling it foolish and weak.

• However, Gen notices the way his shoulders relax, the way his brow unfurrows, and the smiles Hyoga tries to hide when you’re mentioned. Gen notices the way Hyoga straightens up a bit and softens around the edges when he’s with you.

• Gen knows for a fact that Hyoga is smitten with you. Now… whether or not he’d ever come to admit that is a whole new question. He’s so deep in denial and in his own worldview that he’s almost certain Hyoga would deny it until the day he dies.

• Well… not that it matters to Gen. If he can leverage Hyoga’s crush against him, then he will. Maybe then Hyoga would actually admit that he doesn’t just see you as a normal ally.

feelings realization ~ finally. . .

• After his betrayal against Tsukasa and the Kingdom of Science, Hyoga believes he’ll only feel regret that he didn’t best Senku. However… as time passes while he’s locked up, he feels more regret that he betrayed you and your trust.

• He doesn’t remember how everyone else reacted to his betrayal, but he does remember the hurt and disappointment on your face. In that moment, in fully losing, he felt like he lost something more than his ideal world— the person he wanted to share that world with.

• Hyoga fully suspects you to want nothing to do with him or Homura ever again. He suspects that he’s lost you forever— that he’ll never feel your warmth again. And the mere thought makes his heart hurt.

• In that moment, when he’s locked up and questioning why he cares so much, he finally comes to the realization that he wouldn’t care if you were just a proper ally in his eyes. He wouldn’t care so much unless he cared about you deeply.

• Part of him is disappointed— part of him blames you for bringing out a weakness in him. Surely, that weakness is the reason he lost. But… then you start visiting him.

• It starts with you bringing his food on a daily basis. Then, you bring your own food and stick around to eat with him. You engage Homura in conversation, and soon enough, him, too.

• Hyoga warms up to you all over again. You’re stronger than he ever was. He wants to call you stupid for being so willing to forgive him even though he was your enemy. However, he knows that you’ve fully considered the weight of your decision and still chose forgiveness anyway.

• He knows he could never be that way— which is why he has to admire that trait in you. Sure, perhaps kindness can be a foolish weakness… but that kindness of yours allowed you to give him a second chance.

• In its own way, that’s quite proper, isn’t it?

• Either way, he can’t help but accept that, yes. He loves you more than anything. And if there isn’t a place for romance in the Stone World, he’ll just have to carve one out himself.

• All he hopes is that, one day, you’ll be able to love him just as much. Though, he’d be unable to blame you for feeling otherwise. It’d be foolish for him to engage in such wishful thinking without facing reality.

• But… he certainly does love you. And that won’t change for a long time.

☁️ tsukasa shishio ;;

him & you ~ how it starts

• When his attention first falls on you, Tsukasa assumes it’s because you’re especially pure-hearted. You’re someone his sister would’ve loved. After all, what else could it possibly be?

• He isn’t fully sure when that viewpoint changes. All he knows is that you change from someone his sister would’ve loved to someone he wishes could’ve met her. You become someone he knows he likes to be around, and he isn’t sure why.

• He vehemently denies that it could be love because, well, it was that same emotion that was Senku, Taiju, and Yuzuriha’s downfall. Senku’s care for his friend and knowing that Taiju loved Yuzuriha is precisely why he was able to best them.

• Emotions like that were sure to become a weakness, and he’d never let that happen, so it couldn’t be that. It’s precisely why he’s never searched for Mirai. Because even if she couldn’t be revived, he couldn’t bear to see her statue come to harm.

• So what he feels for you couldn’t be that. The desire to be in your presence— the desire to confide in you and spend quiet moments with you— it isn’t love. Admiration, perhaps? Maybe friendship? With each passing day he becomes more uncertain of the answer.

• What he does know is that he makes it a point to check in on you quite a bit. He revived you for your skills and kindness… but each time he meets you it’s never about anything related to the Empire.

• Your conversations with him are notably familiar. They’re never about work like with the others he talks with. When he approaches you, he does so to check in on your well-being— to ask if there’s anything you feel you’re lacking.

• You’re the only one he walks along the beach quietly with, reminiscing about his sister and his past. Tsukasa feels inclined to tell you things he hasn’t told another.

• But it isn’t love. When he tells you about himself— hoping to show you the reasons behind his morals— it isn’t love. When he’s had a rough day plagued with regrets and he seeks you out— that isn’t love.

• Because if it is, he’s certain you’d never be happy with where his morals align. He’s certain that you hide how troubled you are beneath a kind smile.

• If he falls for you, he knows it’d kill him that you’d never agree to be by his side. So he refuses— he can’t. He’ll call the extra kindness he shows you, the leniency he takes with you, anything but what it likely is if it means saving himself the weakness that comes with that warmth.

him & co. ~ another character’s reaction — yuzuriha & taiju

• While Tsukasa is relatively good about being subtle about how he feels about you, the person that notices it first is Yuzuriha, followed closely by Taiju.

• When he’s around you, Taiju recognizes the initial upstanding guy he thought Tsukasa was. He sees no hint of hostility or distrust that he’d seen in him before. All he sees is kindness. Tsukasa never regards you with anything but a smile, and it’s enough for Taiju to firmly believe that, yeah, Tsukasa is a good guy— probably just on the wrong path.

• It’s entirely different for Yuzuriha. The reason she recognizes Tsukasa’s fondness for you so quickly is because she recognizes the way the man looks at you. It’s the same way Taiju looks at her. Fondness, warmth, love— an unspoken desire to be by someone’s side no matter what may happen.

• They both see that… but they also hear how Tsukasa talks about you. He has nothing but good things to say. Even if you’re someone who doesn’t agree with Tsukasa’s morals, he’s never expressed anything but understanding. And if someone dares disrespect you, he’s quick to shut it down.

• However, they also hear him insist that you’re just a friend— someone pure-hearted that needs to be protected. Taiju mentions to Yuzuriha that he feels like Tsukasa looks a little sad when he calls you just a friend. She sees it, too.

• When he thinks you aren’t looking, the two notice that Tsukasa’s eyes always seem to drift to you. He always has a faraway look in his eyes. Then, they see his eyes glimmer a bit with hope when you happen to catch his gaze.

• Truth be told, it makes both Taiju and Yuzuriha a little sad. If Tsukasa was honest with himself— if he wasn’t so adamant on his ways— then there’d be nothing stopping him from being happy with you. Tsukasa’s biggest obstacle is himself.

• They hope that if they eventually beat Tsukasa in this war… maybe then he’ll allow himself to be happy with you. Maybe he’ll be allowed a happy ending with you.

• Because at the end of the day, Tsukasa is a good guy, isn’t he?

feelings realization ~ finally. . .

• Tsukasa finally realizes that he loves you when it’s a little too late. He finally realizes it… but his time with you gets cut terribly short.

• At the end of the war against the Kingdom of Science, you remain by his side. You share his excitement in reviving Mirai, and you never blame him for anything that happened. You stayed by him despite everything— despite all the fighting.

• The moment he realizes that you being there is just… natural to him, he accepts that he loves you dearly. You’d stay beside him through thick and thin, you’d be an amazing role model to Mirai, and your kindness knows no end.

• He loves you and wants to protect you. If the entirety of humanity is going to be revived, he’ll protect your pure heart from any corrupt adults himself. He wants to stay by your side and love you at your best and your worst as you did for him. He wants to be your support— a quiet and safe place to retreat to.

• He just… wants to be someone that deserves the kindness you’ve shown him. He wants to be worthy of the warm love you’ve always shown. He loves you and wants to treat you in the way you deserve.

• But… his happiness is short-lived. When Mirai is revived, he tells her about his affection for you. He tells her he wants to confess— but then Hyoga fatally wounds him.

• Tsukasa realizes it’d be selfish to ask you to wait for him. When Senku chooses to freeze him, they both have no clue when he’ll be able to come back— if he’ll ever come back. Tsukasa doesn’t want you to wait for him— for the slim chance he’ll return.

• It’s then that Tsukasa decides to take it with him to the grave. If he happens to revive… if Senku somehow finds a way to petrify him… then he’ll tell you. If you still haven’t found anyone by the time he returns, he makes a promise to himself, and to Mirai, that he'll finally tell you how he feels.

• Before he’s frozen, you make a promise to him in a hushed whisper that you’ll watch over Mirai for him— that you know he’ll return one day and that you’ll be patiently waiting for him to come home.

• In those final moments before cold sleep, Tsukasa’s heart feels reassured. He should’ve realized— you’d wait for him regardless of what he said.

• Now… he just hopes he’ll be able to awaken and meet you again— to love you as you deserve.

☁️ ukyo saionji ;;

him & you ~ how it starts

• Ukyo recognizes your kindness almost immediately after you’re revived and become acclimated into the Tsukasa Empire. It’s hard for him not to stick by your side— relieved that he isn’t the only one who doesn’t agree with Tsukasa’s ideology and feels some guilt toward being unable to do a thing about it.

• Being around you so much leads him to start recognizing things beyond just an alignment of morals. You’re truly kind and caring— extending that same warmth to Tsukasa and even Hyoga. You reason that they must have their own experiences that led to having such ideals— that it isn’t an excuse not to care for them.

• You have the same idea as Ukyo for different reasons. You won’t leave the Tsukasa Empire not for reasons involving power or which side might win. It’s merely because you care for the people you revived with— you care for him.

• Ukyo wants to protect that kindness— wants to keep a war from happening in hopes that it’ll save you from ever looking sad over a lost friend. But… it isn’t love.

• No, Ukyo is certain that it’s merely a desire to protect you. After all, the world needs more people like you, so he can’t risk you getting in harm’s way. That’s it. It’s nothing beyond a desire to protect, right?

• And yet, you’re the only one that Ukyo has gotten close to in the Tsukasa Empire. He keeps everyone else at a professional distance, refusing to disclose anything about himself. When he’s with you, it seems much easier to open up. He doesn’t feel like he has to hide.

• You’re the only person he goes out of his way to check in on. When he knows you had an especially busy day or had a lot on your plate, he’ll seek you out immediately when he’s relieved of his duties. He’ll comfort you when you need it and keep you company when you desire it.

• However, he refuses to call it anything but friendship. Even if he wants to be closer to you— wants to soothe the fluttering in his heart— he can’t. Because Ukyo is continuously questioning his loyalty to Tsukasa.

• If he said anything, he’s certain you’d be used against him. If you happened to want to turncoat and leave, he knows he’d be used against you. That’s the last thing he wants.

• Because if a war is waged against the Kingdom of Science, Ukyo wants to be certain that you won’t come to harm. And something like love would become a glaring weakness— one that could be fatal.

• And this world needs more people like you.

him & co. ~ another character’s reaction — ishigami senku

• When Ukyo first defects to the Kingdom of Science, Senku immediately notices a level of hesitance for him— as if something is still holding him back. Considering how adamant Ukyo is that absolutely no one dies, Senku assumes that it isn’t just fueled by his morals.

• Then, Gen mentions seeing you and Ukyo together a while ago— and Senku can immediately tell that you’re the reason he’s so adamant on a peaceful end.

• At first, Senku assumes that maybe you’re a really good friend, perhaps a sibling? However, when he’s able to hear more from Taiju and Yuzuriha’s perspective, he can immediately tell it’s romantic, even if Ukyo himself is in denial about that fact.

• In all honesty, he isn’t one to care for romance himself, but he does care about the happiness of others. He can tell Ukyo’s seriously anxious about something happening to you— and though Senku is absolutely certain he won’t let anyone die, he knows that love can be a little illogical.

• Besides, you have your own assets that Senku could utilize. If you have the trust of a man like Ukyo, he’s certain it’s because you’re a good person. He isn’t one to push anyone into confessing— he never did with Taiju— but he will do his best to accommodate, even if he sees it as senseless.

• Because Senku does know what it’s like to lose someone— what it’s like to worry and to not want to be alone. If your presence makes Ukyo a little more confident, so be it. That’s why he’s the one who suggests looping you in and bringing you to their side.

• Hearing and later seeing how comfortable Ukyo is with you by his side is enough to confirm without a doubt that Ukyo loves you. Senku remembers seeding Ukyo when he’s serious— when he’s in the zone. It’s the complete opposite of what the man is like with you.

• With you, Ukyo is softer and much more laid back— more himself, if anything. And frankly, Senku thinks it’s illogical for Ukyo to keep hiding how he feels when it’s clear you feel the same.

• Then again, he won’t push. He’s certain Ukyo will want to make a move himself. He has faith it’ll happen one day, and Ukyo will be better for it.

feelings realization ~ finally. . .

• Given how adamant Ukyo is on protecting you, it isn’t exactly shocking that he’s the one who ends up hurt during the final battle of the war against the Tsukasa Empire.

• What does shock him is just how much it affects you. Of course, you’re kindhearted and have a loving personality— but he didn’t expect you to show so much concern for him in particular. However, the moment he gets injured, you put yourself at risk to get him to safety— spending time patching his wounds before running back to the battle.

• Your bravery paired with the care and consideration you show— add on top of that his near brush with death— all of it causes him to truly accept that he loves you. He loves you and he doesn’t want to lose you— he doesn’t want to regret the things he never said.

• When the dust finally settles— when Tsukasa is defeated, Hyoga imprisoned, and the Kingdom of Science reigns victorious— he decides to tell you how he honestly feels.

• Because you’re sure to face dangers in the future— ones he might not be there for. There may come a time where he gets hurt or otherwise incapacitated again and he won’t be able to protect you like he wants. All he wants is to be certain that, no matter what you face, you know that he loves you and is supporting you whether he’s there physically or not.

• Of course, he hesitates a bit at first. But when he starts his confession speech and hears your heart quicken— hears the way your breath hitches a bit— he knows it’s mutual and he becomes far more confident in his words.

• Finally, he can accept that he’s always loved you— that there’s no longer a reason to deny it any longer. While he knows there might come a time in the future where someone could use your love against him… he thinks the risk is worth the reward.

• Because in no world are you Ukyo’s weakness. You’re his biggest strength— and you make him strive to be better. And he’s certain that if someone tried to use you two against each other, you and him would find a way to come out on top.

tags ~

[svt-luna]

ʚིᵋ ⋆ GAME CATERERS X SVT ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── episode 3-2.

Game Caterers x SEVENTEEN

synopsis: Episode 3-2! We are finally at the last game of the series! Basketball with a twist that ultimately decides if they can go home or not…

wc: 22.7k

oh my goodness!!! we have finally reached the final episode of the game caterers series!!! i just want to quickly thank you lovely humans for patiently waiting for every episode which took so many weeks btw!! i am super grateful that you guys are continuously waiting and supporting me to this day! i am really happy and proud that we have finally finished the first series in my blog. the stan twitter reactions for episode three will officially be the last post for game caterers… and after that… we are officially off to Italy!!!

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST

╰ ౨ৎ fan reactions ╰ ౨ৎ game caterers masterlist

[added captions are in brackets] ღ

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

The cameras shifted position, now angled toward the opposite side of the open field, directing their gaze toward the basketball court. The crew had set up there, capturing the vibrant, warm-toned scene as the SEVENTEEN members began to trickle down from the green room.

[This is the most calm video of all SEVENTEEN's videosin the last 9 years]

Each one wore a bright red basketball jersey with their number in the official order, emblazoned across the back in bold black and white. As they headed toward the basketball court, a mix of chatter and laughter accompanied them.

Hoshi stretched his arms overhead, a determined look on his face. “I’m not good at basketball. I’ll just go with guts,” he declared, eyes fixed on the court as if sheer willpower would guide him through.

Dokyeom grinned, walking beside him with casual confidence. “Hoshi, sports is all about guts,” he replied, giving Hoshi an encouraging pat on the back. As they neared the edge of the court, he added, “Sports bring you closer by making you run into each other.”

“Yes, like ‘Slam Dunk’,” Dokyeom continued, nodding with a theatrical expression of seriousness.

“I’ll be like Hanamichi Sakuragi,” Hoshi told them.

Jeonghan, hands tucked lazily in his pockets as he walked, glanced over at Hoshi, amused. “Okay. Come on, Hanamichi,” he indulged, a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Who else is there aside from Hanamichi Sakuragi? I want to join,” Dokyeom said as they finally stepped onto the court.

Wonwoo, who had been listening to their animated conversation, looked over at him thoughtfully. “Do you want to play Takenori Akagi?” he suggested, his voice low but playful.

Dokyeom nodded immediately, adopting an exaggeratedly serious face. “Okay!”

Around them, members continued filtering onto the court, their laughter filling the air as they warmed up, but Luna and Seungkwan were noticeably absent. Hoshi, energized by the anticipation, suddenly darted across the court and stopped at the free-throw line. He raised his right hand high and imitated a shot, exclaiming with conviction, “The left hand only assists the right!”

Vernon raised an eyebrow, chuckling as he watched Hoshi’s exaggerated form. “What was that?” he asked, a smirk spreading across his face.

S.Coups shook his head with a chuckle, mimicking Hoshi’s earlier movement with his hands. “The left hand only assisted,” he laughed, rolling his eyes as he did so.

The members began lining up one by one, each taking turns shooting the basketball as they waited for everyone to arrive. Mingyu, holding the ball for his shot, grinned. “Nice. One ball is enough to have fun,” he remarked, dribbling a few times before taking his shot.

[Everyone is here except for Seungkwan and Luna]

A few minutes passed, and still no sign of Luna and Seungkwan. Hoshi, now restless with excitement, glanced toward the direction of the green room and called out, his voice carrying across the field. “Seungkwan-ah! Jiyeonie! Hurry up! We’re waiting for you!”

His shout was met with laughter from the members, some shaking their heads in amusement. And then, just over the hill, Luna and Seungkwan appeared, Seungkwan dragging a laughing Luna along by the arm with a dramatic look of exasperation on his face.

[He looks tired already]

As they drew closer, Seungkwan called out, “Noona was taking forever to decide if she wanted her hair down or up,” his tone playful yet mockingly exhausted.

Luna struggled in his hold, laughing as she tried to keep up with his pace. Her hair was down, loose waves framing her face. She wore her red SEVENTEEN basketball jersey in her own unique style— one side tucked up, giving it a cropped look that revealed a hint of her side, paired with a relaxed, white pair of parachute pants that moved with every step.

“I’m sorry,” Luna said, finally reaching the group with an apologetic smile. “It was a genuine problem.”

The members laughed, watching her with fond smiles, each accustomed to her usual dilemmas when it came to fashion and styling choices. For them, it was all part of her charm.

Mingyu walked over to the bleachers, a thoughtful look on his face as he sat down. After a moment, he lifted his hand, gesturing to the group. “Let’s get a group picture,” he announced, his voice carrying with a hint of excitement. “Everyone, this way, please.”

One by one, the members slowly made their way toward the bleachers. Some moved with ease, hands tucked into pockets or slung over shoulders, while others laughed and nudged each other as they picked their spots. They settled in three rows, their jerseys bright red against the muted, natural tones of the field around them.

As he took his seat, Dokyeom’s gaze landed on a small stuffed bunny positioned beside Mingyu. The plush toy sported a tiny SEVENTEEN jersey and even had a pair of glasses perched on its nose. His eyes lit up with recognition.

“Oh, I know this one,” Dokyeom exclaimed, pointing at the bunny. “I drew it,” he added with a proud smile, a hint of nostalgia in his voice as he settled into his spot, admiring his earlier prize from the ‘Super’ Store game segment earlier.

[DK's favorite doll, Torong]

Luna took her place in the middle row, wedging herself between Hoshi and Seungkwan, who made exaggerated gestures to make room for her with playful smiles. She leaned back, catching her breath, then adjusted her jersey, her hair falling around her shoulders.

As they all settled, each member struck a different pose. Some threw peace signs, others leaned forward or back with playful grins, and a few simply folded their arms, attempting a serious look for the picture.

[The photo theme: basketball players]

After a few clicks, Mingyu raised his thumb, directing them all with a smile. “Right thumbs up,” he told them, and the team lifted their right thumbs in unison, matching smiles spreading across their faces as they held the pose.

After the group photo, they made their way down from the bleachers, gathering at the center of the field where the camera crew and production team had set up once again. PD Na, seated comfortably up front with the other writers, smiled as the group assembled in front of him.

“This is the last part,” PD Na started, his tone both serious and playful. “You’re going to play basketball.”

Minghao stood to the side, clutching a small whistle, his expression more reserved. PD Na continued, explaining with a glance in his direction, “Since The8 has a shoulder problem, he’ll be the referee. Luna’s fingers are also injured, so she’ll be the cheerleader.”

Minghao brought the whistle to his lips, letting out a light, somewhat hesitant blow, which was barely audible, earning quiet chuckles from the group. Luna nodded, visibly content with her role on the sidelines, her fingers carefully resting in front of her.

“It’ll be six on six,” PD Na added as he glanced at the group, while Minghao gave another soft whistle.

[Even with two missing, they can still play 6 on 6]

“You’re pretty good,” PD Na complimented, causing Minghao to break into a shy smile.

As the whistle’s sound faded, PD Na resumed, moving on to the team selection. “The two best players will come forward and choose five people each with rock-paper-scissors,” he said, eyes scanning the group as he waited.

[Team selection rules]

With a slight nod, S.Coups stepped forward, a hint of a grin on his face. “Seungkwan and I will do it,” he declared, glancing back with confidence.

Dokyeom, however, was already making his way forward with a mock swagger, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, feigning a look of cockiness. PD Na couldn’t contain his laughter at the sight. “DK is coming forward,” he laughed, watching as S.Coups gently nudged Dokyeom back, causing laughter to ripple through the group.

[Takenori Akagi is out]

Meanwhile, Mingyu tilted his head, glancing over at PD Na with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. “Are we playing real basketball?” he asked, his brow furrowed slightly. “I thought we had to use a scoop to score or something.”

“No, you’re playing real basketball,” PD Na confirmed.

Almost everyone chorused, “Really?” their expressions were a mix of amusement and skepticism, finding it hard to believe that the game wouldn’t come with some sort of twist.

Luna, observing their reactions with a laugh, shook her head. “The catch will come soon, watch.”

Seungkwan chuckled, enthusiasm radiating from him. “I played basketball at Jamwon Han River Park yesterday too.”

Dokyeom chimed in, nodding toward PD Na, “We love basketball.”

[That's why we prepared this game]

[Team selection]

[S.Coups versus Seungkwan]

With that, the rock-paper-scissors showdown began. After a quick match, S.Coups won the first round and wasted no time in selecting his team. “Mingyu,” he called out, gesturing confidently toward him.

“No,” Mingyu replied playfully, though a grin spread across his face.

Jeonghan chuckled, watching the selection with a spark of mischief. “Right. You need someone big,” he commented, earning a laugh from the group.

With the next pick, Seungkwan’s voice rang out with a clear choice. “I choose Jeonghan,” he announced.

[2 ace players team up]

Another round of rock-paper-scissors followed, ending with S.Coups victorious once again. “Joshua,” he called.

Seungkwan countered, glancing around as he chose Vernon with a smile. “I’ll go with Vernon. He’s a zombie defender.”

The two continued their picks, with each choice narrowing down the players until two teams were fully assembled. Finally, the teams stood divided: Team White with S.Coups, Mingyu, Joshua, Dokyeom, Jun, and Dino, while Team Red consisted of Seungkwan, Jeonghan, Hoshi, Wonwoo, Vernon, and Woozi.

[Team White versus Team Red]

With the teams established, the members of Team White moved to change, swapping out their red jerseys for fresh white ones bearing the SEVENTEEN logo, their excitement palpable as they readied for the game ahead.

Once Team White finished changing into their fresh jerseys, they gathered at the center of the field alongside Team Red, eyes turned expectantly toward PD Na. He glanced around to make sure everyone was listening.

“The rule is simple,” he began. “It’s three on three. But each of you must play at least once.” The members nodded, some of them voicing their understanding with murmurs of agreement.

“Another important rule.” But as PD Na took a brief pause, Luna chuckled knowingly, anticipation lighting up her face. “There it is.”

PD Na continued with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “It’ll be Hunminjeongeum basketball.”

The group immediately erupted in groans, knowing exactly what that meant. This wasn’t going to be a normal basketball game.

PD Na raised a hand to explain further. “The moment the players or the audience speak a foreign language, the score resets.”

“Does it really reset?” Dokyeom asked, eyebrows raised.

“To zero,” PD Na confirmed, a smirk playing on his lips.

Woozi crossed his arms, leaning back a bit with a shrug. “That works for me. I can’t play basketball at all.”

Mingyu looked at him, unconvinced. “You know how to pass and shoot.”

Woozi tilted his head, conceding slightly. “I know that much.”

“That’s all English,” Mingyu pointed out.

“You can’t say shoot,” Jun added, glancing pointedly at Woozi.

Hoshi jumped in, breaking out in English with a playful confidence, “Hey. Okay.” He threw himself into an exaggerated re-enactment, pretending he was mid-game, showing the others exactly what they couldn’t do.

Seungkwan turned to PD Na with a thoughtful expression. “Are the names okay?”

PD Na shook his head. “No, not even the names.”

Everyone looked around in surprise, murmurs, and exclamations breaking out all at once, caught off guard by the strictness of the rule.

Luna deadpanned, a serious look crossing her face. “I don’t think we will be going home today.”

Joshua raised a hand, smiling as he posed a question. “What about foreigners?”

PD Na nodded in Luna’s direction as she answered on his behalf, “Everyone will use their Korean names.”

Vernon raised his hand, a slight smile on his face. “Hansol,” he said, pointing at himself.

Jun’s brow furrowed as he looked at PD Na, hesitant. “Does Jun count as English?”

PD Na shrugged. “This is not an official game. So all rules are up to the referee.”

[What the referee says is the law]

Minghao, the appointed referee, tilted his head innocently, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “What if the referee doesn’t know the rules?” he asked, his voice laced with mock innocence.

Everyone burst out laughing, PD Na included. Mingyu echoed the question with a laugh, “What if he doesn’t?”

Luna grinned, reaching over to give Minghao’s shoulder a supportive squeeze. “I’ll help you, Hao,” she said affectionately, finding his comment both adorable and endearing.

[Anyway, it's all up to the referee]

With a smirk, PD Na gave the final directive, “The first team to get twenty-one wins.”

Luna didn’t miss a beat, deadpanning once more as she leaned against Minghao’s side, her face scrunched up in doubt. “I don’t think we’ll reach the tens,” she remarked, earning another round of laughter from the group.

[She has no faith in them whatsoever]

Mingyu, always one to tease, pinched her side playfully, making her jerk back slightly. She shot him a look, sticking her tongue out at him with a grin.

“It’ll be zero the whole time,” Jeonghan added, sharing in Luna’s skepticism.

As the laughs subsided, the players steeled themselves, ready for a game that would clearly be anything but typical.

[Hunminjeongeum basketball begins]

The teams began to disperse, each group huddling together, strategizing with enthusiasm and an eagerness that hinted at their competitive sides. Some members bounced the basketball, others shuffled around, loosening up.

Meanwhile, Luna, lighthearted as ever, skipped over to the sidelines, hand in hand with Minghao, her fingers interlaced with his. “Let’s go, Hao,” she said, her voice full of playful energy as they made their way toward the bleachers to watch from the sidelines.

Jeonghan looked at his team, calm but focused. “Let’s go with Hoshi, Seungkwan, and Vernon,” he instructed, his tone low and clear, suggesting his confidence in their abilities as he glanced between the three members. They nodded in agreement, quickly organizing themselves as the first lineup.

Across from them, Team White finalized their lineup with Mingyu, Joshua, and Dokyeom stepping forward, the three of them preparing with a blend of focus and excitement.

[Big people against big people]

The rest of the members settled themselves on the bleachers, eagerly watching the setup unfold. Minghao stood at the right side of the bleachers, while Luna positioned herself on the left, her stance casual as she waited for the game to begin.

Seated comfortably on the bleachers, Jeonghan reached over, his hand brushing against Luna’s arm with a gentle, almost absentminded touch, inviting her closer. She shifted toward him naturally, her attention still on the game ahead as they stood side by side, shoulders nearly touching. With a slight smirk, Jeonghan called out to the players, “Hoshi, just run to the place with no people.”

Hoshi took off immediately, following the advice, darting toward an empty spot on the court.

[Since Hoshi doesn't know anyway, he just warms up]

Jeonghan nodded his head with approval. “Good,” he murmured quietly, turning back to Luna as he traced gentle circles into her hand, which rested in his.

Just then, a staff member walked over, slowly handing Luna a set of red and white pom-poms. Luna chuckled, her gaze drifting from the vibrant pom-poms to the staff member, amusement evident in her smile. “Is this really necessary?” she asked with a soft laugh, her eyes bright as she accepted the pom-poms with one hand, keeping her other firmly intertwined with Jeonghan’s.

[She’s a cheerleader for today]

From his spot on the bleachers, Wonwoo leaned over, raising an eyebrow at her. “What team are you cheering for?”

Luna shook the pom-poms lightly, fluffing them up with a playful shrug. “Both…” she replied, her voice lilting with humor. She gave the pom-poms a final shake before adding in a softer tone, “Whoever wins,” her casual remark drawing laughs from the group.

Jeonghan looked at her, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he pointed out, “You’re wearing red.”

Luna tilted her head at him, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. “Then win,” she shot back, punctuating her challenge with a wink.

Jeonghan’s grin widened as he looked back at Luna, her wink and confident challenge igniting a spark in his eyes. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so that only she could hear. “Alright,” he murmured, his tone soft but filled with determination. His gaze lingered on her, holding her attention for a beat longer, the hint of a competitive glint in his eyes promising he’d give it everything he had.

Minghao stepped forward, his voice clear as he took up his role as referee. “To your positions,” he instructed, gesturing for the players to take their places on the court.

The first three players from each team responded immediately: Seungkwan, Hoshi, and Vernon for Team Red moved to one side of the court, while Mingyu, Joshua, and Dokyeom from Team White positioned themselves on the opposite side. The rest of the members, anticipating the match, gathered on the bleachers, eager to watch the action unfold.

Luna, with a mischievous smile, shook her pom-poms and called out from her spot near the bleachers. “Fighting! I believe in you guys!” Her voice rang cheerfully, bringing a wave of encouragement to both teams.

Seungkwan quickly looked to Vernon, determined to start the game strong. “Hansol, mark Mingyu,” he instructed, emphasizing their focus on strategy and using Vernon’s Korean name to avoid slipping up on the language rule.

Mingyu, sensing Seungkwan’s readiness, chuckled and reassured him with a laid-back attitude. “It’s okay. It’s only 0:0,” he pointed out, nodding towards Seungkwan, already in the spirit of the game and noting the smooth switch to Korean names.

Meanwhile, Dokyeom made his own preparations, eyeing his opponents carefully. “I’ll mark Soonyoung,” he offered, squaring his shoulders.

Hoshi nodded in agreement, glancing back at Dokyeom with a grin. “Okay, Seokmin,” he replied, “I can’t call you DK, can I?” Already aware of the no-English rule, Hoshi’s playful tone underscored the competitive but lighthearted nature of the match.

[DK is okay, but okay is not okay]

From the sidelines, Jeonghan, lounging casually on the bleachers, gave his team a confident signal. “Good. Let’s go. Start.” He declared with a nod, giving them the final encouragement to get going.

[The game begins]

Mingyu took advantage of the moment to remind them of a slight technical loophole, a last-minute suggestion as they shifted into action. “We can speak English until we score,” he pointed out, just loud enough for his teammates. Then, in English, he added, “Can you pass me the ball?” gesturing to Seungkwan, who dribbled carefully, eyes darting for openings as his teammates positioned themselves strategically.

Observing Seungkwan’s movement, S.Coups leaned forward, offering insight from the bleachers. “Hoshi’s turning around,” he called, as Hoshi quickly moved across the court, marking his territory on the other side.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Seungkwan passed the ball to Vernon, who, without missing a beat, caught it smoothly. In a swift, calculated motion, he scanned the court, recognizing Hoshi’s position on the other side, and passed the ball across the court to him. Hoshi received it and seemed poised to shoot, but Dokyeom’s defense was tight. Realizing he had no clear shot, Hoshi pivoted, aiming a precise pass back to Seungkwan instead.

“Seungkwan, come up. Lay up,” Dino’s voice rang out from the sidelines, encouragement evident in his tone. Seungkwan, fueled by the support, moved swiftly toward the basket. He took the shot— a smooth layup— but luck wasn’t on his side, and the ball bounced off the rim.

Joshua, acting on reflex, caught the rebound. He dribbled once, trying to line up for a quick shot. He aimed, but the ball clanged against the rim, missing again.

“Leave the box,” Mingyu’s voice cut through, directing Joshua to back out of the key. Joshua stepped out, positioning himself outside the paint, scanning for a potential three-point shot.

[Joshua got a chance for a 3-pointer]

“He has to leave, right?” Minghao asked, looking toward PD Na for confirmation.

PD Na nodded, confirming, “You need to leave the box.”

Once Joshua was in position, he took a deep breath, braced himself, and launched a three-point attempt. The ball arced toward the basket, everyone holding their breath as it hit the top of the backboard and bounced out of bounds.

[Bounce]

A chorus of groans rose from the bleachers. Woozi’s voice was the first to break through the disappointment. “It’s out,” he called, arms crossed as he leaned back, his face showing a hint of frustration.

Jeonghan shook his head from the sidelines, letting out an amused sigh. “That was a ridiculous shot,” he observed dryly, adding a bit of levity to the moment.

Luna, catching the mood, shook her pom-poms with exaggerated enthusiasm, calling out with a bright tone. “It’s okay! Fighting!” she encouraged with a mock cheerful voice, causing PD Na to laugh and point at her from his spot, clearly entertained by her dramatic cheer.

Mingyu, still focused, checked the scoreboard and shook his head. “It’s still 0:0. No one’s going to score,” he said, hands on his hips, as he looked back at his team with a determined expression.

With that, Seungkwan took control again, dribbling the ball with focused energy as he scanned for an opening. Hoshi, ever the energetic tiger, darted around the court, narrating his moves in a loud, confident voice. “The counterattack of the tiger!” he announced as he circled around, trying to break through Mingyu and Dokyeom’s defense.

[While the tiger jumps around, Seungkwan got a chance]

Seungkwan seized the opportunity and took a sharp shot. The ball flew through the air, finally making its way into the basket.

[He scores easily]

The bleachers erupted in cheers, Luna jumping up and down with enthusiasm as she shook her pom-poms vigorously. “That’s two points,” PD Na announced, finally marking a breakthrough.

“No English from now on,” Mingyu reminded his teammates firmly.

“Good,” Hoshi replied, his tone brimming with excitement as he jogged back.

“He scored,” Wonwoo confirmed, flipping the scoreboard numbers with a grin.

Woozi, ever the strategist, leaned into the red team with a serious expression. “We need to focus from now on,” he instructed, drawing nods of agreement from his teammates.

“Be careful,” Jeonghan added, his voice a steady reminder from the sidelines, signaling the players to stay sharp and avoid mistakes that might reset their hard-earned score.

Seungkwan, breathing heavily but with a triumphant smile, slapped hands with Hoshi and Vernon in a quick team celebration. “Hansol, Hoshi, Seungkwan. Good job,” he told himself and his teammates with a quiet, self-assured nod.

With the briefest pause, Mingyu then gestured toward the Red Team, keeping the game momentum going. “Excuse me. Please start. Please,” he said with an authoritative tone, his words conveying both a tease and a hint of challenge.

Joshua, still in the zone and with his team scoreless, seized the chance to keep things light but competitive, smirking, he added, “Let’s go. Hurry up,” hoping to tease Red Team into losing their focus.

Dino, seated on the bleachers, grinned at his team’s freedom with language for the moment. “Okay, we haven’t scored yet. Good,” he observed aloud, almost in approval of their strategic advantage.

The ball returned to play, this time firmly in Vernon’s hands. He glanced around, calculating the pass, and with a practiced flick, he sent it toward Hoshi. But Hoshi, his focus wavering for a split second, almost missed. He chased after the ball, eyes locked as it bounced closer to the sidelines, only to lose it as it rolled out of bounds toward the production team.

[The tiger finally got the ball for the first time]

“It’s okay,” Seungkwan called out, the reassurance in his tone bringing Hoshi’s frustration down a notch.

With a quick movement, Dokyeom scooped the ball up and lobbed it toward Mingyu, who took position, lining up his shot. He stepped back, squared his shoulders, and, with a measured push, sent the ball arcing toward the basket. It swished cleanly through the net, catching the White Team up to tie the score.

[Team White catches up]

As his teammates celebrated, Mingyu clasped his hand over his mouth, a half-smile creeping in. He raised a finger to his lips, his eyes flicking meaningfully between each teammate as a shushing motion— no more English, no more slip-ups that could jeopardize their points now that they were finally even.

From her spot on the sidelines, Luna couldn’t contain her excitement. She jumped up, pom-poms flying in a flurry of color, and shouted, “Wow! Kim Mingyu!” The admiration in her voice was unmistakable, her cheer earnest as she praised anyone who made a good shot.

Even PD Na joined in, nodding toward Mingyu. “He’s really tall,” he commented, unable to resist noting Mingyu’s natural advantage on the court.

On the bleachers, S.Coups folded his arms, his expression one of measured caution. “You need to be careful from now on,” he warned, his voice carrying across the court like a coach reminding his players of the stakes.

Joshua now had possession, dribbling steadily as he sought an opening. His eyes locked onto Mingyu, who signaled his readiness. Joshua aimed a pass in his direction, but Vernon, quick as ever, sprang forward, intercepting with a well-timed block. The ball ricocheted off his fingers, only for Joshua to recover possession. Pivoting, he squared his shoulders and released a shot— only for it to bounce off the rim, missing the net by inches.

The ball bounced into Dokyeom’s hands, who immediately took advantage of the rebound. He dribbled twice, calculating his next move, before aiming a pass toward Mingyu. But just as he threw it, Seungkwan lunged forward, intercepting the ball with a skillful grab. He dribbled fast, Joshua at his heels, trying to steal it back with quick, agile movements.

From the bleachers, Jeonghan straightened, calling out to him with a calm yet firm tone. “Seungkwan.”

S.Coups followed up, “Joshua, get closer,” his voice steady and strategic, urging Joshua to close the gap.

Hoshi darted in behind Seungkwan, matching his speed and murmuring quietly, “Kwan, I’m right behind you,” a note of encouragement evident in his voice, urging him to pass.

Seungkwan glanced back at Hoshi, who seemed ready to take over. But before he could make a move, Joshua shifted closer, cutting off his line of sight. Seungkwan gritted his teeth, waiting for the right moment, finally breaking free from Joshua’s block. In one smooth motion, he passed the ball to Vernon, who, without hesitation, relayed it to Hoshi with a precise, angled pass.

Hoshi caught the ball, his gaze settling on the basket. He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a grin creeping in. “Do you think I can do it?” he asked, his voice carrying a trace of playful challenge as he adjusted his grip.

Luna, from the sidelines, raised her pom-poms, her voice clear and full of encouragement. “Oppa, you can do it!”

Seungkwan, positioning himself in front of Mingyu to prevent interference, called out, “Give it a shot. Trust yourself.”

“Soonyoung, Shoot!” Jeonghan’s voice rang out in English, the unintentional slip causing his eyes to widen as he caught his own mistake. He clamped a hand his mouth shut, freezing as he realized the consequences.

Luna, her reflexes quick, spun to face him. Her body blocked the camera’s view as she chuckled at his blunder, a hand over her own mouth to stifle her laughter. “Ya!” She whispered under her breath, her voice playful but low, hoping no one else caught the slip.

Oblivious to Jeonghan’s mistake, Hoshi refocused, releasing his shot with a flick of his wrist. The ball sailed toward the net, only to bounce off the rim and back onto the court.

[Soonyoung failed to score]

From the bleachers, Jun’s eyes lit up, a mischievous glint in them as he pointed toward Jeonghan. “Jeonghan spoke English!” he announced gleefully, his tone triumphant as he snitched.

Jeonghan turned, feigning innocence with a casual shrug. “What?” he replied, his tone smooth, as if unaware of any mishap. He glanced at Luna, his eyes searching hers with a playful look. “Did I?”

All eyes turned toward her, expecting confirmation. Her expression froze, her wide eyes betraying her surprise. Realizing the focus was now on her, she slowly turned her head away, her gaze lifting to the sky as if she’d found something fascinating in the clouds. Her lips curved into an innocent smile, trying to hide the fact that looking at Jeonghan any longer might make her burst into laughter.

[Out of sight, out of mind]

From his spot on the bleachers, S.Coups chuckled, crossing his arms and pointing at Jeonghan with amusement. “You clearly did.”

PD Na nodded, clapping his hands once. “It’s back to zero,” he announced, resetting the Red Team’s points with a definitive call.

Jun, unable to contain his satisfaction, grinned widely, pumping a fist in the air. “Gotcha,” he said excitedly, looking straight at Jeonghan, who just shrugged, leaning back on the bench with a lazy, nonchalant air, seemingly unbothered by the setback.

Luna, still shaking with silent laughter, pointed at Jun, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re next,” she muttered with a knowing smile, her tone low enough for only him to hear, fully aware that Jeonghan would surely have a playful comeback waiting for Jun soon.

Hoshi’s voice cut through the chatter as he clapped his hands, rallying the players on the court. “Okay,” he called, a spark of intensity in his tone as he encouraged them, eager to keep the game moving.

“Let’s go, guys!” Luna’s pom-poms flashed as she raised them high, her voice filled with energy.

“We need to continue broadcasting for our friends,” Jeonghan reminded the players with a smile, knowing they had an audience eager to see them give it their all, his eyes scanning his quieter teammates. He gave a pointed look to those who had fallen silent, cautious about slipping into English.

Jun met his gaze with an exaggerated nod as if to confirm his dedication. “Yes. I am,” he replied, his voice calm yet filled with mock solemnity.

On the court, Dokyeom had secured the ball, eyes keenly watching Hoshi, who positioned himself squarely in his path, arms spread to defend. Dokyeom’s gaze darted, analyzing Hoshi’s stance, his movements swift as he shifted to feint. Hoshi mirrored him, moving with agility, staying just close enough to keep Dokyeom from making an easy pass.

[Hoshi is the busiest, but he's not really doing anything]

After a quick fake to his left, Dokyeom took advantage of the narrow gap and pivoted, sending the ball soaring across to Joshua, who stood ready, anticipating the pass. Joshua’s fingers wrapped around the ball in a smooth, practiced catch.

“Let’s go!” Jeonghan cheered from the sidelines, his voice ringing out in support of Hoshi’s tight defense.

“Come on!” S.Coups added, his encouragement directed at Joshua, rooting for his attempt to break through Hoshi’s defense.

Joshua moved with intent, sizing up Hoshi, who met him head-on with a determined gaze. Hoshi shifted his stance, maintaining his stance directly in Joshua’s line. Joshua angled his body, feeling the pressure of Hoshi’s close guard, and with a final glance at his options, passed the ball smoothly back to Dokyeom, who had shifted into an open space.

With fluid movement, Dokyeom redirected the ball, passing it off to Mingyu, who now held control, watching the defenders around him.

“Mingyu, go for it!” S.Coups’s voice rang out in support, his words carrying both urgency and anticipation.

But instead of attempting the shot himself, Mingyu spotted Dokyeom near the basket and made a quick decision. With a swift pivot, he sent the ball to Dokyeom, who caught it, turned, and jumped, releasing the ball in a clean, practiced shot. The ball soared through the air and sank into the net with a satisfying swish.

[DK scores again]

A cheer erupted from the White Team, who clapped in celebration as they witnessed Dokyeom’s successful shot.

[Perfect teamwork of boys born in '97]

“Nice!” S.Coups shouted, his enthusiasm overriding his caution, as he stood up in a burst of excitement. But realization dawned immediately as his hand flew to his mouth, his eyes widening in shock at the English word that had slipped out.

[Slip of the tongue]

Luna turned to S.Coups with a chuckle, her tone teasing as she said, “The members on the bleachers are the ones messing up.” She let out a laugh, shaking her head as she looked at him.

Jeonghan’s hand shot up with the speed of a kid eager to answer in class. “Producer Na!” he called out, his finger already pointing at S.Coups as expected, wasting no time. His voice was filled with mock righteousness, almost as if he’d been waiting for the opportunity to call out someone else.

[Snitch]

“S.Coups said ‘nice.’ The score resets.” PD Na nodded in agreement, his tone final as he announced, “The score resets,” loud enough for everyone on the court to hear.

Confusion flashed across Dokyeom’s face as he turned to Mingyu. “Who said ‘nice’?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“He did.” Mingyu pointed toward S.Coups, who was already making his way to the court as the teams prepared to switch members. Team White rotated, with Dokyeom, Mingyu, and Joshua heading to the bleachers, while S.Coups, Dino, and Jun took their places on the court.

“Why did you say ‘nice’?” Dokyeom’s voice carried a hint of mock disapproval, his expression exaggeratedly serious as he questioned S.Coups.

Luna chimed in, her tone playfully scolding, though laced with amusement, “No fighting, guys. You’re both tied at zero now anyway.” She swayed the words in a sing-song tone, knowing neither of them were genuinely upset.

Jeonghan gave a firm nod, his expression one of comical agreement. “No, we must compliment,” he added, his voice feigning the utmost seriousness.

“Good job,” Wonwoo piped in from his seat, keeping the spirit of praise going with a casual nod toward his teammates.

PD Na chuckled, his eyes narrowing with playful suspicion as he addressed the commentators. “The commentators are speaking too much English. We better watch them,” he said, motioning to his team. He and the two other producers and writers moved to sit behind SEVENTEEN, clearly prepared to monitor the situation more closely.

Jeonghan glanced back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Why don’t we let it slide if the producers don’t notice?” he suggested, raising a brow, his voice carrying a note of sly humor.

“But we point it out. We tell them,” Mingyu replied, holding a straight face as he held Jeonghan’s gaze.

“Let’s not tell them,” Jeonghan countered, his tone casual, enough to draw laughter from Mingyu and Luna.

Luna turned to Jeonghan, her voice filled with playful accusation. “You snitched earlier. So fast, in fact,” she teased, giving him a gentle bump with her hip.

Jeonghan’s grin widened as he looked down at her, unbothered. “Ey, that was just one time,” he replied, his voice a mixture of self-assurance and playfulness.

Luna chuckled, nodding toward PD Na and the writers seated behind them. “Plus, why didn’t you think of that earlier? PD Na is right behind us.”

Mingyu turned to S.Coups, his face filled with mock disappointment. “We were playing nice and quiet. Why did you have to say ‘nice’?” His voice carried an air of exasperation, though the smile that tugged at his lips gave him away.

Dokyeom followed suit, shaking his head. “Seriously, Park Bo Gum,” he muttered, the nickname still in play from S.Coups’s earlier blunder.

S.Coups shrugged, meeting their looks with a challenging grin. “Hey, S.Coups. Do it right,” Mingyu warned him with a teasing tone, pointing in mock admonishment.

“I’ll be watching you,” S.Coups replied, his finger aimed back in defiance.

“Come on!” Seungkwan, now holding the ball, shouted, his eyes lit with determination as he cheered his team forward.

“Let’s go!” Luna and Wonwoo chorused, their voices blending as they encouraged their teammates from the sidelines.

Dino, adrenaline rushing, started to cheer for his team, “My team—” he stopped, catching himself mid-sentence as the realization hit him that he’d spoken in English.

S.Coups, still lighthearted, reassured him, “It’s okay. We’re at zero.” He eyed Dino with a grin, calming any concerns.

[No points to lose]

Mingyu, always quick to keep things entertaining, stood up with a dramatic flair. “Calm down, calm down,” he repeated in English, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he continued, “Not yet, not yet.”

“That’s okay, bro,” Dokyeom followed, his words slipping into English as he added his own brand of encouragement.

“Just do, just do,” Mingyu chimed in again, his laughter evident as he sat back down.

Luna, her laughter bubbling over, pointed at Mingyu, her voice filled with affection as she teased, “Gyu-gyu and Kyeomie are so cute.”

As the whistle blew, signaling the start of the new round, the atmosphere crackled with renewed energy. Minghao stood with an air of official authority, the whistle still dangling from his fingers as he took his place on the sidelines.

[The game resumes]

Team Red remained steady with Seungkwan, Hoshi, and Vernon, ready to secure their lead. Across from them, Team White shuffled in fresh players: Jun, S.Coups, and Dino stepped onto the court, each visibly focused intensity.

Seungkwan gripped the ball, his eyes darting between Vernon and Hoshi, who was already breaking into motion, weaving around Team White like synchronized dancers. He smirked, shaking his head in amusement at their fervor. “You don’t have to run around so much, or you’ll be tired,” he teased, loud enough for both teams to hear, drawing hearty laughter from everyone on the court and the sidelines.

After a beat, Seungkwan lobbed the ball towards Vernon, who leaped and caught it, instantly setting up for a shot. He lined up his aim and released, but the ball arced just shy of the hoop, bouncing off the rim before Dino lunged forward, catching it in both hands with impressive speed.

[Failed to score]

“Good job. I’m proud of you,” Seungkwan said with mock solemnity, pointing at Vernon. On the sidelines, Wonwoo chuckled, commenting dryly, “They had a chance.”

Dino took over possession, dribbling with agility as he searched for an opening. He maneuvered with quick, nimble steps, clearly aiming to get closer to the hoop. As he neared the basket, he attempted a layup with an air of confidence— only for the ball to slip from his hands, veering behind the backboard in a surprising misfire.

Mingyu’s gaze tracked Dino’s movement, and he muttered, “The way he dances…” His words trailed off, his appreciation lost in hesitation. Dokyeom, seated beside him, couldn’t resist intervening. “Think before you speak,” he advised, patting Mingyu on the shoulder with a wise expression.

“Okay,” Mingyu replied, resigning himself with a sheepish grin, while PD Na chuckled loudly behind them, clearly enjoying the banter.

[They're funny]

The game resumed, and Seungkwan took the ball again, launching it from across the court to Vernon, who was positioned near the hoop. “Nice attack,” Woozi observed approvingly as Vernon caught the pass, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he set up for a layup. But to everyone’s disbelief, the ball once again veered off course, sailing past the hoop and landing behind the backboard, leaving the members in a chorus of laughter and groans.

“Come on. That was a bad attack,” Jeonghan commented dryly from the sidelines.

“Not a good attack,” Woozi added, his tone flat as he shared a knowing look with Jeonghan.

On the sidelines, Luna, pom-poms in hand, stood with her hands on her waist, her expression frozen in disbelief. “Wow, that was really��� what was… it was right there,” she muttered, genuinely baffled. The members quickly turned towards her, pointing and laughing at her reaction, clearly delighted by her unfiltered commentary.

[Our cheerleader is in disbelief]

PD Na, noticing Luna’s stunned expression, chimed in with a laugh. “Luna, you’re the cheerleader. You’re supposed to be cheering them on.”

Mock realization flashed across Luna’s face, and she spun around to face the players, waving her pom-poms with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Wow! Good job, Hansolie! It’s okay, that was amazing!” she declared, her voice dripping with faux sincerity, which only set off another wave of laughter. Vernon laughed, pointing at her with an exaggerated shake of his head.

“You need to relax,” Seungkwan told Vernon, who made an “okay” sign with his fingers and replied, “I’ll relax. Sorry.”

“Soonyoung, keep it up,” Jeonghan called out from the sidelines, sending an encouraging nod toward Hoshi, who grinned, looking a bit flustered. “Okay.”

“Cute,” Luna muttered under her breath as she took in Hoshi’s smile, her own lips twitching with amusement.

“Why don’t you find the man you need to mark?” Seungkwan instructed Hoshi, his tone deadpan.

“Sure,” Hoshi agreed, scanning the court cluelessly. “Who is it?”

Jeonghan chuckled from the sidelines. “Seungkwan, don’t get mad.”

Meanwhile, S.Coups took possession of the ball, expertly maneuvering it across the court before passing to Dino, who, without hesitation, took the shot. The ball swooshed cleanly through the hoop, and Team White broke into cheers.

[Dino of Team White scores]

Mingyu leaped to his feet, raising a finger to his lips as he looked around at his teammates. “Hey,” he murmured, gesturing for everyone to stay quiet.

“Hey, hey,” Dokyeom echoed, rising with him in a show of support. But just then, Luna, standing nearby, caught the English phrase, and her head snapped towards them, eyes widening before she burst into laughter, doubling over at their unintentional slip-up.

“The game has only begun,” Mingyu added, missing the irony of his words, still gesturing for silence.

PD Na’s voice cut through the laughter, amusement laced in his tone. “‘Hey’? Did you just say ‘hey’?” His teasing made the sideline erupt, the team members doubling over as the realization dawned on them.

Mingyu’s face froze in disbelief as he looked over at Dokyeom, who couldn’t contain his own laughter. PD Na held up a hand, grinning triumphantly. “DK said ‘hey.’ The score resets,” he announced, his tone definitive. Team Red’s members burst into gleeful laughter, their cheers echoing through the place as they celebrated their stroke of luck.

“Why did you have to speak English?” Dokyeom muttered to Mingyu, pretending to be frustrated, though his grin showed he was far from genuinely upset.

[He started it]

S.Coups, watching with a mixture of exasperation and humor, shook his head. “DK, you deserve it,” he called out, a mock-serious tone undercutting his smirk.

Dokyeom didn’t miss a beat, looking at S.Coups and nodding with a solemn expression. “Same, same,” he responded in English, earning another bout of laughter from the sidelines. “We do speak a lot of English,” he admitted to Mingyu as they finally sat back down, the air between them still crackling with energy.

Mingyu sighed, deadpan as ever. “But why aren’t we good at it?”

Dokyeom’s laughter caught him mid-sip from his water bottle, causing him to choke slightly as he set the bottle down, his shoulders shaking. The rest of the team, still laughing and recovering, looked on in amusement, clearly enjoying the unintentional comedy show.

As the game continued, all eyes were on S.Coups as he clutched the ball, strategizing his next move. His eyes scanned the court, and in one swift motion, he passed the ball to Jun, who moved with agile precision— only for Vernon to intercept, arms outstretched as he blocked Jun’s shot with ease.

[Vernon's nice block]

“Good job, Hansol,” Woozi encouraged, his tone calm but approving. Vernon offered a quick nod in acknowledgment, already refocusing as the ball bounced back to S.Coups. Seizing the opportunity, S.Coups passed it to Dino, who took a breath and attempted a shot toward the basket. The ball, however, bounced off the rim, narrowly missing its target.

“Dino’s bad throw,” Woozi observed dryly from the sidelines.

Jeonghan chuckled, watching Dino fumble slightly. “He’s not playing basketball. He’s just playing with the ball.”

Laughter rippled through the spectators, and Dino threw them a sheepish grin as the ball found its way back to Jun’s hands. This time, he passed it back to Dino, who saw his chance and shot with determination. The ball arced perfectly, swishing through the net.

[He is playing basketball. He scored!]

“Good!” Joshua clapped, rising from his seat alongside the cheering Team White members. “Very nice,” he repeated, as both Dokyeom and Mingyu stood, mouths shut as they silently applauded.

Luna, from the sidelines, waved her pom-poms excitedly. “Good job, Chan-ah!”

“Hey, Dino,” Wonwoo called out with a teasing smile, “are you an ace?”

Jeonghan, catching the energy in the air, turned toward the production crew, his tone suddenly serious. “You need to listen carefully now,” he warned since Team White already had a score to lose.

The game resumed with intensity, and this time, S.Coups received the ball again. Determined, he took his shot from beyond the three-point line. The ball flew through the air, heading for the basket, only to bounce off the rim.

[The ball bounced off]

“That was close, Cheollie,” Luna encouraged, her eyes tracking the ball’s rebound.

“He tried… he threw a three-pointer,” Dokyeom said, his voice hesitant as he picked his words carefully.

Mingyu, next to him, waved his hand, signaling silence, both of them wary of another reset due to a slip-up. PD Na’s laughter rumbled from behind them, amused at their cautious commentary.

[Be careful]

“We still need to broadcast it,” Dokyeom reminded him, almost as if convincing himself.

“We do,” Mingyu agreed with a nod, taking the responsibility seriously.

Jeonghan joined in, adding, “We need to keep talking.”

[Professional]

The game continued, and the ball was now with Seungkwan, who held it with an intense look. “Go inside. Get in there,” he instructed, his eyes set on Hoshi, who was running close to the hoop.

“Seungkwan, don’t take it too seriously,” Dino chuckled from nearby, sharing a grin with Hoshi.

“No, not at all,” Seungkwan replied with a smirk, just as S.Coups swooped in and stole the ball from him, dribbling it down the court with newfound energy. Seungkwan shook his head, laughing. “We’re doing great.”

On the bleachers, the other members watched the match with focused interest, and Dokyeom leaned forward, a question hovering on his lips. “Are you not broadcasting?” he asked, his gaze fixed on Jeonghan, who stood, hands in his pockets, absorbed in the game.

Jeonghan glanced over, replying calmly, “We’re worried that the audio will overlap.”

But before he could say more, Dokyeom’s finger shot up, pointing at Jeonghan, his expression caught between surprise and triumph. Jeonghan beat him to it, though, chuckling. “We’re at zero,” he said, and Dokyeom laughed in defeat.

[He got tricked big time]

As the ball moved back into play, Vernon seized his chance, attempting another shot. But as the ball ricocheted off the rim once more, Seungkwan was ready, catching it mid-bounce.

Jeonghan’s voice called out from the sidelines. “Be careful.”

“Seungkwan, I’m here,” Hoshi called out from behind, raising his hands, ready for a pass. But Seungkwan, perhaps caught up in the moment, passed it back to Vernon. Vernon took the shot once more, but luck wasn’t on his side, and the ball missed, bouncing back to Seungkwan.

“Nice attack,” Jeonghan said encouragingly, watching as Seungkwan, with a determined look, took the shot himself. The ball sailed through the air and, finally, sank into the hoop with a satisfying swish.

“Nice attack,” Jeonghan repeated, his tone appreciative as Team Red cheered, now tied with Team White at two points each.

[His practice in Jamwon Han River Parkpays off]

Luna’s voice rang out in excitement, pom-poms held high. “Let’s go, Kwanie!”

“Good job, Seungkwan,” Hoshi added with a clap on the back.

“It’s one all,” Dokyeom said, nodding with the air of a seasoned commentator.

Mingyu nudged him, correcting him with a grin, “It’s two all.”

Dokyeom blinked, a sheepish look on his face. “Two all?” he asked, checking.

“Yes,” Mingyu confirmed, his tone half-amused, half-serious.

“Thank you,” Dokyeom replied, slipping back into his “commentator” voice as the game continued, both teams locked in their friendly yet fierce competition.

[Hunminjeongeum game makes you say only the important stuff]

[It's two all]

Seungkwan dribbled the basketball with precision. His movements were sharp and calculated, weaving through the defense like a seasoned player. The opposing team scrambled to block him, but Seungkwan was relentless, his body twisting and turning as he dodged each attempt to steal the ball.

[Everyone on Team White marks Seungkwan]

“Seungkwan!” voices called from his team, but his focus was unyielding.

A chorus of cheers and shouts filled the air as Seungkwan made his way to the hoop. The gym echoed with the rhythmic chanting of his name. “Seungkwan! Seungkwan!” The members leaned forward, anticipation etched on their faces.

Luna’s pom-poms swayed furiously as she called out, “Go, Kwanie!”

Seungkwan leaped for a layup, his body extending toward the basket. The ball arced gracefully, only to graze the backboard and miss the hoop entirely. Gasps and laughs filled the room, but Seungkwan remained undeterred. He caught the rebound, landing firmly on the court as his teammates shouted encouragement.

Dodging an advancing block from Dino, Seungkwan maneuvered around the perimeter, his quick footwork leaving the defenders scrambling.

“So it’s true that he practiced in Jamwon,” PD Na remarked, leaning forward with visible interest.

“Seungkwan, Hoshi’s behind you,” Hoshi called out, positioning himself near the hoop. Without hesitation, Seungkwan passed the ball to Hoshi, who caught it mid-air. But before Hoshi could make a move, Dino appeared beside him. In a moment of camaraderie and humor, Hoshi handed the ball back to Seungkwan, their laughter ringing through the court.

[Not so confident here]

[Returning after touching it for a second]

Seungkwan, amused but focused, resumed dribbling. The ball bounced rhythmically as he faked out an opponent and swerved around another. With a deep breath, he stepped forward and took a clean shot. The ball soared through the air, its trajectory perfect. It swished through the net, the sound eliciting an eruption of cheers from the Red Team.

[And he scores]

“That was so cool, Boo Seungkwan!” Luna cheered from the sidelines, her voice rising above the noise. The Red Team gathered around Seungkwan, their excitement was palpable.

The scoreboard now read 2:4 in their favor.

“I loved how you returned it back to me,” Seungkwan said, laughing as he patted Hoshi on the shoulder.

“Thank you,” Hoshi replied with a grin, pulling Seungkwan into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” Seungkwan said, squeezing him with a hug before they separated.

“Score one more, and let’s change teams,” Mingyu suggested from the sidelines, his eagerness to play again evident.

“Mingyu said ‘team,’” one of the writers announced, their voice cutting through the commotion.

A wave of disbelief swept through the court, especially among Team White. Mingyu’s face twisted in confusion. “Me? When?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Why did you do that?” Dokyeom asked, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his tone.

“I didn’t,” Mingyu insisted, still oblivious.

“Don’t you know how to speak Korean?” Jun teased, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Laughter erupted as the scoreboard reset, now reading 0:4.

Seungkwan made his way to the bleachers, his face glowing with satisfaction despite the penalty. ���When do you want to switch?” he asked his team, glancing around for opinions.

“It’s up to you,” Woozi replied nonchalantly, leaning back against the bleachers.

“Do you want to switch now?” Jeonghan chimed in, his voice calm but ready.

“I’m in,” Hoshi agreed, raising his hand.

“Shall we?” Seungkwan prompted, looking to the referee.

“Okay. Switch,” Minghao said, signaling the change.

[Hoshi of Team Red is out, and Jeonghan's in]

With that, Hoshi was replaced by Jeonghan, who strolled onto the court with the ease of someone who had been watching and waiting for his moment.

Luna, standing at the sidelines, couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face. She loved watching Jeonghan play sports; there was something captivating about his casual confidence and smooth movements.

“Wah! Yoon Jeonghan! Show them!” she cheered, her enthusiasm drawing his attention. Jeonghan turned to her with a lazy grin, nodding in acknowledgment before stepping up to play.

On the bench, Dokyeom and Mingyu leaned into each other, their hands shielding their mouths as they mock-whispered conspiratorially. Their fingers pointed at Luna, who immediately noticed their antics.

“What?” she asked, crossing her arms as she approached them.

“You really have favorites,” Dokyeom teased, his grin widening.

“I’m hurt,” Mingyu added, pretending to glare at her.

Luna laughed out loud, her head tilting back as she waved them off. But she played along, raising her pom-poms. “Wah! Kim Mingyu! Lee Seokmin! Show them!” she shouted enthusiastically, earning laughs from the two.

Still laughing, she returned to her post at the front, her eyes fixed on Jeonghan as the game resumed.

Luna’s voice rang out in a cheerful sing-song tone, cutting through the sound of the constant buzz of conversation. “Guys, remember: safety first, safety second,” she announced, shaking her pom-poms with exaggerated enthusiasm.

[Bunny’s safety announcement]

A chorus of loud and playful “Yes!” erupted from all the members, their responses unified and energetic. Luna grinned, clearly satisfied with their reaction.

“She only said that now that Jeonghan is playing,” Mingyu whispered to Dokyeom, loud enough to ensure Luna could hear him, his tone dripping with mock suspicion.

“You’re right,” Dokyeom agreed, nodding sagely as if Mingyu’s observation was groundbreaking.

Luna chuckled a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, not denying nor confirming their claims. She turned to them with an amused yet commanding expression and said simply, “Shut it.”

Being the oldest among the 97-line— Dokyeom, Mingyu, and Minghao— Luna naturally fell into the role of their designated mother or older sister. In response, both Dokyeom and Mingyu mock-pouted, their exaggerated expressions earning a playful roll of her eyes.

On the court, Seungkwan glanced at Jeonghan, his concern showing as he called out, “Jeonghan, don’t push yourself.”

Jeonghan gave him a reassuring nod, acknowledging the worry. Seungkwan, just as concerned as Luna, patted his own elbow— a subtle but clear reminder of Jeonghan’s past elbow injury.

Jeonghan nodded again, his movements careful as he positioned himself for the next play.

[Team Red's other ace Jeonghan appears]

The whistle blew, signaling the beginning of the next round. Dino quickly dribbled the ball past the halfway line, his eyes scanning for an opportunity. Jeonghan raised a hand, signaling for a pass. Dino hesitated for a fraction of a second, then lobbed the ball toward him with precision.

As Jeonghan caught the ball, the atmosphere shifted noticeably. The casual, lazy demeanor he had carried up until now was gone. With a sudden burst of energy, he dribbled the ball with sharp, controlled movements, weaving through the opposing players with practiced ease. His feet moved with agility, the ball bouncing rhythmically as he dodged each attempted block with finesse.

Just as he reached the edge of the key, Jeonghan spotted Seungkwan open near the basket. Without breaking stride, he passed the ball with a quick flick of his wrist.

[Perfect pass from Jeonghan to Seungkwan]

“Good, Jeonghan,” Woozi called out from the sidelines, his tone neutral but encouraging. “Go, Seungkwan!”

Seungkwan caught the ball, adjusted his position, and jumped for a layup. The ball rolled off his fingers with perfect backspin, hitting the backboard and sinking smoothly into the net.

The Red Team erupted in cheers, Luna among them. She waved her pom-poms enthusiastically, her voice rising above the noise. “Nice pass,” Seungkwan said to Jeonghan as they regrouped.

Jeonghan’s response was immediate and wordless—a dramatic, exaggerated face that drew laughs from everyone.

“‘Nice,’” PD Na repeated the English word, his tone deadpan.

Seungkwan groaned, his energy draining in mock defeat as he dramatically lay down on the court, covering his face with his hands. Laughter rippled through the gym as the scoreboard reset to zero once again, much to Team White’s delight.

[The score resets]

Team White celebrated their victory loudly, Dino and S.Coups high-fiving as they jogged to the sidelines to swap out with Dokyeom and Mingyu.

“‘Nice!’” S.Coups mocked playfully as he passed by Seungkwan, mimicking his choice of words with an exaggerated tone.

“Seungkwan, very nice,” Dino chimed in, grinning.

Still sprawled out on the court, Seungkwan groaned louder.

“Still, you did well,” Hoshi added, his words genuine as he gave Seungkwan’s shoulder a supportive pat.

“What’s the point?” Minghao asked from his referee position, his tone carrying the weight of exasperation. “The score is at zero.”

Luna couldn’t help but laugh, her earlier prediction about the game’s slow pace coming true. None of the teams had even broken into double digits, and yet the energy in the field was electric.

The ball found its way back into Jeonghan’s hands, his grip firm as he turned his gaze down the court, searching for his next move. His stance was relaxed, shoulders loose, yet there was a sharpness in his eyes that hinted at his focus. With an effortless rhythm, he dribbled, bouncing the ball in steady, controlled beats, switching it smoothly between his hands. With each step, he shifted his weight, weaving the ball skillfully in a figure-eight pattern between his legs, his movements sharp, yet fluid.

[Excellent dribble]

Joshua, tasked with blocking him, moved in closer, face set in concentration. Basketball wasn’t his strength, but he did his best to match Jeonghan’s energy, his body pressing forward until they were almost chest-to-chest. The members watched as the two closed in, Joshua’s determination painted clear in his eyes. But as he moved to intercept, Joshua pushed against Jeonghan a little too forcefully. Jeonghan stumbled, losing his balance as he was pushed outside the boundary line.

“Out!” Mingyu called out immediately, his voice firm, as he pointed to the line where Jeonghan’s foot had stepped.

Jeonghan’s brows furrowed as he straightened, the ball still tucked securely under his arm. “He pushed me,” he said, his tone laced with both amusement and mild exasperation.

“Joshua, that’s a foul,” Minghao clarified the slightest hint of a grin on his face.

Joshua blinked, looking at his teammates, his confusion evident. “Really?”

Wonwoo, who was watching the interaction closely, leaned toward PD Na standing nearby. “They’re serious when it comes to sports,” he explained, a touch of humor in his tone as if to explain the playful intensity each member brought to the game.

With a deadpan expression, Hoshi called out, “Manners makes man, man,” in a low, practiced accent, earning a few chuckles.

The game restarted, and the ball found its way back to Jeonghan’s hands. This time, his gaze was sharp, brows drawn as he scanned the court with a calculating look. He dribbled again, his movements crisp and precise, weaving the ball through his legs with ease as he danced past his defenders. A quick dodge here, a sidestep there— Jeonghan moved as if he were gliding, each step purposeful and smooth, skillfully slipping past Mingyu’s and S.Coups’ attempts to intercept him.

He glanced at his teammates, his eyes flicking briefly to the left where Seungkwan was open. But then his gaze landed on Vernon, stationed far across the court, his stance ready. Jeonghan’s lips curled into a chuckle. “That far?” he murmured, his voice barely audible but laced with quiet confidence.

Luna’s voice called out from the sidelines, urging him on. “Seungkwanie is free, Han,” she said, her tone encouraging, her pom-poms raised as she bounced slightly on her toes.

“Get in there,” Hoshi’s voice joined from next to her.

And then, as Seungkwan moved forward, Hoshi shouted out an additional bit of advice, his voice rising in excitement. “Seungkwan, the left hand only assists the right!” he said, emphasizing the importance of the lay-up technique.

Seungkwan took the shot, attempting a layup, but the ball missed, bouncing off the rim. For a moment, the area was filled with the sounds of scuffling and the members hustling as they fought for control. The ball bobbled in the air before landing right in Mingyu’s hands.

“That’s right,” Hoshi commented, narrating from the sidelines, “One more time.”

Mingyu’s fingers closed around the ball, his eyes narrowing as he looked for a teammate to pass to. But before he could make a move, S.Coups called out, “Mingyu!” in an attempt to gain his attention.

Suddenly, in the scramble, the ball slipped from Mingyu’s grasp, bouncing away and leaving them both crouched low, struggling to reclaim it. Joshua dove forward, managing to get his hand on it just before anyone else, but with a misjudged throw, he sent it rolling away from them, right at Mingyu’s feet.

The ball bounced, rolling slowly across the court, leaving both teams frozen for a brief, absurd moment before they burst into laughter.

“What is happening?” Luna clapped her hands, laughing as she watched the chaotic scene unfold, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“This is no basketball,” S.Coups muttered from the bleachers, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and frustration.

Wonwoo nodded, his tone completely deadpan. “It’s pretty messy.”

[A combination of dodge ball, foot volleyball and basketball]

From somewhere in the group, Woozi’s voice cut through, his tone a mix of dry wit and resignation. “We’re not going home today, are we?”

“No,” S.Coups confirmed, shaking his head with an air of resignation.

“We can never go home like this,” Minghao announced, his tone dripping with humor and a sense of defeat as everyone broke into laughter once again.

[0:0 for 15 minutes]

Joshua grabbed the ball with a renewed determination, his stance firm as he scanned the court for an opening. With a decisive movement, he pivoted slightly and launched the ball across the court to Dokyeom, who was stationed near the basket. Dokyeom caught it effortlessly, his grip sure as he assessed his options. Without hesitation, he passed it to Mingyu, who was better positioned in the paint. The ball zipped between them, Mingyu catching it securely. However, instead of taking the shot, Mingyu passed it back to Joshua.

[Team White keeps passing]

Joshua planted his feet, bent his knees, and shot. The ball soared through the air, spinning perfectly before it swished through the net. The white team erupted in cheers.

“Hong Jisoo!” Luna’s voice rang out, her excitement palpable as she clapped from the sidelines.

“Nice!” Dokyeom yelled in English, his enthusiasm getting the better of him. The realization hit him instantly, his face falling into mock regret as he turned to Joshua. He moved toward him, wrapping him in an apologetic hug as Mingyu’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide with betrayal.

[They won a point, but it's gone]

It might have gone unnoticed by the production team, but Jeonghan wasn’t about to let it slide. He pointed at Dokyeom, his grin mischievous as he announced loudly, “‘Nice’ as soon as he scored.”

The members burst into laughter, Mingyu collapsing to his knees, unable to contain his amusement.

“Why?” S.Coups asked, his brows knitting in confusion.

“Who was it?” PD Na inquired, leaning forward in curiosity.

“Yes, it’s zero,” Mingyu admitted through chuckles, “DK said ‘nice.’”

“Why did you blame me?” Dokyeom protested, feigning innocence as he broke into their signature chorus. “Very nice,” he sang, his voice exaggerated, drawing even more laughter from the group.

[Anyway, it's back to 0:0]

The game resumed, and Joshua once again gained possession of the ball. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he threw a no-look pass to Dokyeom. Dokyeom caught it with ease, deftly dodging Jeonghan, who lunged to block him. In a fluid motion, Dokyeom passed it back to Joshua, who scanned the court before spotting Mingyu on the move. Joshua’s pass reached Mingyu in stride, who surged forward for a layup attempt.

The ball hit the backboard and bounced off the rim, sending the players into a frenzy as they jumped to grab the rebound.

[He missed, but it was a good move]

Amidst the chaos, Jeonghan snatched the ball, pulling it close as he pivoted away from his defenders. With quick, deliberate movements, he began dribbling, weaving through the opposing team with a finesse that had become second nature.

“Jeonghan, leave the box,” Hoshi called out, his tone half-serious, half-exasperated.

“They’re serious about basketball,” PD Na observed, his voice tinged with both surprise and amusement.

Jeonghan ignored the commentary, his focus unwavering as he passed the ball to Seungkwan, who had managed to maneuver into an open position.

“Seungkwan! Kwan, where are you going?” Woozi’s voice carried across the court, his tone laced with both confusion and amusement.

“The thing about him is that he’s good at dodging,” Hoshi chimed in, his voice tinged with admiration as Seungkwan deftly avoided two defenders.

Seungkwan glanced at Jeonghan, who had moved closer to the basket, and passed the ball back to him.

[He dodges and passes to Jeonghan]

Jeonghan caught it, dribbling with precision as he navigated the defensive line.

“Jeonghan, shoot!” Hoshi yelled, his voice rising in urgency. Jeonghan aimed, but the ball bounced off the rim.

As it ricocheted, Seungkwan leaped mid-air, catching it before anyone else could react. With an effortless motion, he shot it back toward the hoop. This time, the ball sailed cleanly through the net.

[Seungkwan shoots again]

The members erupted in cheers, their voices mingling through the place.

“That was amazing, Boo Seungkwan!” Luna shouted, her face lit up with excitement.

“He’s a weasel,” Dokyeom remarked, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“He scored!” Hoshi exclaimed, jumping to his feet, his energy infectious. The red team was now on the board with two points.

“It’s only the beginning,” Jeonghan said carefully, his tone calm yet laced with confidence.

“It’s very nice,” Hoshi added, nodding approvingly.

“Nice score,” Woozi agreed, his voice steady as he gave two thumbs up.

“Retrieve the ball and repeat,” Wonwoo instructed, his tone practical as always.

Jeonghan, his gaze sharp, turned to Vernon. “Hansol, why don’t you switch?”

Vernon nodded in agreement, standing up to tag out with Wonwoo, who removed his jacket before stepping onto the court.

[Vernon of Team Red is out, and Wonwoo is in]

“Okay, change,” Minghao confirmed, signaling the adjustment as the players repositioned themselves for the next play.

[The man in glasses is in]

[The game resumes]

Luna clapped her hands together, a teasing glint in her eyes as she raised her voice over the noise of the court. “Keep it up, guys, so we can go home!” she called, her words playful but charged with enough encouragement to draw the players’ attention.

PD Na chuckled at her from the sidelines, adjusting on his seat as he shook his head in amusement. “You’re excited to go home,” he remarked, his tone lighthearted.

Without even a hint of denial, Luna nodded firmly. “I didn’t have that much confidence at first,” she said, her mock-serious expression drawing laughs from the members in the bleachers, “but I can feel that they’ve gotten the momentum.”

[She wants to go home the most]

Her dramatic delivery had PD Na and the writers doubling over in amusement, while the SEVENTEEN members exchanged grins.

“You can do it, guys!” Luna cheered, cupping her hands around her mouth for emphasis. “Whoever scores the most… will officially be my favorite, and I will love you forever!”

The players on the field burst into laughter, her cheeky incentive setting a competitive fire alight.

With that said, the ball was in Jeonghan’s hands. His fingers curled around the leather as he dribbled it with precision, the sound of his shoes shuffling filled their ears. His stance was focused, his gaze locked on the basket ahead. He accelerated, his movements fluid and determined, weaving between defenders as Joshua stepped forward to block him.

Jeonghan didn’t falter. Dribbling outside the three-point line, he shifted his weight, guiding the ball smoothly between his legs. Each bounce was calculated, his body moving in sync with the ball as his hair swayed with his movements.

“Jeonghan, nice move,” Woozi observed, his voice filled with quiet admiration.

“Nice move,” Hoshi echoed, leaning forward in his seat. “His hands never let go of the ball.”

Jeonghan paused, his sharp eyes scanning the court as he calculated his next move. His opponents crowded the area near the basket, leaving little room for an easy shot. Without warning, he lifted the ball in his hand slightly and threw the ball underhand from beyond the three-point line.

[He threw it lightly]

The ball arced gracefully through the air, spinning perfectly before it swished cleanly through the net.

For a moment, there was silence— then chaos erupted.

[He scores a 3-pointer]

Jeonghan’s teammates on the bleachers jumped to their feet in unison, their cheers reverberating around the court. Even the opposing team stood in stunned disbelief, their mouths slightly agape.

[Standing up]

“What?” PD Na exclaimed, standing up from his seat as he stared at the basket in shock.

“That’s three,” Vernon said simply, his tone as disbelieving as the others’.

Jeonghan remained composed, his expression cool as he dapped up Seungkwan, who was still wide-eyed with surprise.

[Mitsui Hisashi and surprised Miyagi Ryota]

Turning casually, Jeonghan’s gaze landed on Luna. She was standing frozen, her eyes widened in amazement— she was so amazed that she forgot to do her assigned job and cheer. Though she fought valiantly to suppress it, the corners of her lips quirked upward, threatening to break into a full smile.

Their eyes met, and Jeonghan’s smirk deepened. He raised three fingers, holding them up deliberately. Then, one by one, he dropped each finger, mouthing, “I. Love. You.”

Luna’s face turned a deep shade of red as the realization hit her— Jeonghan had taken her earlier incentive seriously. So seriously, in fact, that he’d shot a perfect three-pointer.

Dokyeom, ever the mischief-maker, walked towards her, his grin wicked. “Well, what else is new?” he muttered, throwing her a teasing wink. He gestured toward Jeonghan, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm as he added, “He’s your favorite now, right? As if he wasn’t already.”

“Shut up.” Luna let out an embarrassed laugh, her hand flying to her face as she tried to compose herself.

“That was a wonderful shot,” Minghao chimed in, his voice calm but clearly impressed.

“That was amazing,” Wonwoo added, nodding in approval.

“It’s 0:5,” Minghao noted, his tone matter-of-fact as he glanced at the scoreboard. “You scored three minutes… what was it? You scored a three-pointer.”

Jeonghan, as always, played it off coolly, his smirk lingering as he casually walked back to his side of the court, the game continuing with a renewed energy and excitement.

Jeonghan caught the ball again, his movements were fluid and graceful as he surveyed the court. The game felt electrified, each pass, dribble, and shot loaded with a heightened sense of competition. Without wasting a second, he passed the ball to Wonwoo, the spin and speed of the ball precise as it reached his teammate’s hands.

Wonwoo steadied himself, gripping the ball tightly as he pivoted to position for a shot.

[The man in glasses throws for the first time]

Wonwoo aimed for the basket, his release was clean, the ball sailing through the air, but it hit the rim and bounced out.

“That was close,” Woozi commented, his tone measured but encouraging.

“Still, good job,” Hoshi added, patting Wonwoo on the back as the latter retrieved the ball.

“Nice try?” Wonwoo asked, his expression half-serious, half-hopeful as he glanced at his teammates for reassurance.

Luna finally snapped out of the trance she had been in since Jeonghan’s earlier performance. “It was so good,” she said with a sincere smile, her voice loud enough to reach Wonwoo.

“Better than me,” Hoshi chimed in with a laugh, earning a round of lighthearted chuckles.

As the game continued, the ball found its way into Joshua’s hands. He maneuvered it skillfully, dribbling down the court with an easy confidence. A swift pass sent it to Dokyeom, who caught it mid-stride.

“Wonwoo, defend!” Seungkwan’s voice cut through the action, sharp and commanding.

Wonwoo sprang into action, his long strides carrying him toward Dokyeom, who was readying for a pass. Seeing Wonwoo closing in, Dokyeom redirected the ball to Mingyu.

Mingyu bolted forward, his towering frame giving him an advantage as he aimed to secure the pass. But before he could reach it, Wonwoo threw himself into the fray, stretching his arms wide and blocking Mingyu from intercepting the ball.

[He's clearly better than Hoshi]

“Good job, Woo!” Luna cheered, her pom-poms shaking enthusiastically.

“You have long arms,” Hoshi observed, dramatically extending his own arms to emphasize his point.

“Team Red is playing for real,” S.Coups remarked, his tone filled with a mix of amusement and admiration as he watched the intensity ramp up on the court.

Dokyeom, undeterred, recovered the ball and sent it flying back to Mingyu. This time, Mingyu caught it cleanly, pivoted, and charged toward the hoop. With a powerful leap, he shot the ball, and it sailed smoothly into the net.

[Throwing using his height]

[Team White is playing for real too]

“Nice!” Dino cheered from the sidelines, pumping his fists into the air.

“Wah! Kim Mingyu!” Luna exclaimed, her pom-poms shaking furiously as she joined the cheers.

The scoreboard updated to 2:5.

The game resumed, with Seungkwan now in possession of the ball. He dribbled with precision, each bounces purposeful as he dodged opposing players attempting to block him. His quick footwork allowed him to slip past their defenses, and with a well-timed pass, he sent the ball to Jeonghan, who was positioned strategically near the hoop.

Mingyu, seeing the opportunity, moved swiftly to block Jeonghan. But Jeonghan, ever the strategist, anticipated the move. With a sharp pivot and a burst of speed, he dodged Mingyu, his movements fluid and controlled.

Jeonghan shifted the ball between his hands, the rapid motion disorienting his defender. With a graceful leap, he executed a layup, the ball arcing beautifully before swishing through the net. His hair swayed with the motion, catching the light as he landed effortlessly.

[Receives the ball from Seungkwan and scores]

“Jeonghan scored!” Woozi announced, his voice filled with awe.

“Good job,” Hoshi added, clapping enthusiastically.

[Jeonghan and Seungkwan are leading the team]

Luna, ready to do her job to jump in and cheer, froze when Jeonghan turned toward her. His back was to the cameras, shielding his next move from the public eye.

He raised seven fingers this time since their current score is 2:7, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. One by one, he lowered each finger, mouthing, “I. Love. You. So. Much. It. Hurts.”

Luna’s face turned crimson, her heartbeat quickening as she processed his words. A smile broke across her face, so wide she was momentarily shocked it didn’t split her cheeks.

“Yoon Jeonghan… really…” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible as she stuttered.

Unable to contain her giddiness, she turned away, walking briskly toward the bleachers. Reaching Hoshi, she wrapped her arms tightly around him, hiding her flushed face against his shoulder.

“Why?” Hoshi asked, laughing softly as he patted her back, his other arm wrapping around her in a comforting gesture.

Luna didn’t respond immediately, her smile growing impossibly larger as a zoo of emotions surged through her chest. She covered the small mic pinned to her top and reached for Hoshi’s mic, ensuring no one could hear her next words.

Leaning in close, she whispered, “Yoon Jeonghan is driving me fucking insane. What do I do?”

Hoshi chuckled, his hand lightly patting her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Woozi’s calm voice came from the seat next to Hoshi, his brows furrowed in mild concern.

Luna shook her head, letting out a soft laugh. “No… I think I’m going insane,” she admitted, her voice laced with a mix of exasperation and delight.

The three of them shared a quiet moment before turning their attention back to the game, where the action continued to unfold with no less intensity.

The ball was with Joshua, his movements sharp and calculated as he dribbled down the court. He sidestepped a defender, feinting a pass to Mingyu before taking a decisive leap. His form was textbook perfect as he released the ball in a clean arc. It soared through the air, kissed the rim, and fell neatly into the net, earning two points for his team.

[Followed by Joshua's score]

“Cool,” S.Coups said, his tone calm but laced with genuine admiration.

“That was cool,” Jun echoed as he stood up from his seat, clapping enthusiastically. “Jisoo, that was cool,” he repeated, emphasizing his words.

“Hong Jisoo good job!” Luna cheered from her place in the bleachers, her voice bright and encouraging.

S.Coups glanced at Dokyeom. “DK, do you want to switch?” he asked, his voice casual but expectant.

Dokyeom nodded in agreement, stepping onto the sidelines while S.Coups moved to the court.

[DK out, S.Coups in]

“All the ace players are playing,” Minghao observed from his seat, his tone thoughtful as he watched the dynamic on the court shift.

[Aces are playing in both teams]

“All the members are playing,” Hoshi added, his voice carrying a hint of pride as he surveyed the scene.

Luna, seated next to Hoshi, turned to him, her lips twitching as she suppressed a laugh.

Hoshi frowned in confusion, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to understand the source of her amusement.

A beat later, realization dawned on him. His eyes widened as he murmured, “Wow,” before covering his mouth in embarrassment.

“Did I—” He cut himself off, dropping to his knees dramatically, clearly mortified.

[Apologizing]

“It’s okay,” Luna said quickly, patting his back in a comforting gesture. “It’s okay.”

Seeing Hoshi’s guilty expression, Wonwoo and Seungkwan joined in reassuring him. “It’s okay.”

“Let’s be careful from now on,” Mingyu reminded his team, his tone firm but lighthearted as he glanced over at the court.

Minghao, who had been monitoring the scoreboard, made an announcement. “It’s changed to zero from seven,” he said, pointing to the scoreboard with an amused expression.

“It’s okay,” Luna said again, this time chuckling as she leaned over to hug Hoshi, who still looked remorseful.

Nearby, PD Na turned to the writer seated next to him. “We could reduce it to eleven points,” he suggested, his tone contemplative as they considered a change in the game’s goal.

Back on the court, the game resumed with Joshua once again taking possession of the ball. His movements were precise as he dribbled, scanning for an opening. Spotting one, he moved toward the hoop, only to be blocked mid-shot. Undeterred, he reclaimed the ball, pivoting swiftly and regaining his rhythm.

“Keep calm,” Dino said from the sidelines, his voice steady and encouraging. “Okay,” he added, almost automatically, before freezing as the realization hit him.

[In vain]

Dokyeom, seated next to him, clamped his mouth shut, side-eyeing Dino as if to say, Did you really just say that?

[He needs time alone]

PD Na, who had been standing right behind Dino, didn’t miss a beat. “Dino said ‘okay,’” he announced, his tone teasing as he pointed out the slip.

Dokyeom burst into laughter, his head tilting back as he tried and failed to contain himself. The rest of the members followed suit, their laughter echoing through the field as Dino sat frozen in place, his expression a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.

Luna, now seated back in the bleachers, sighed dramatically. “I retract my previous statement… I don’t think they have found the momentum at all,” she deadpanned, her tone so dry it made the members laugh even harder despite themselves.

“Who?” Mingyu asked, looking at her in confusion.

“Dino,” Luna replied with a chuckle, pointing toward the younger member, who still hadn’t moved.

“This is never going to end. What are we going to do?” Dokyeom asked, his voice slightly high-pitched as he gestured toward the scoreboard.

PD Na stood up, making his way toward Minghao, who had been monitoring the score. “Referee, I’m sorry, but we’ll reduce it to fifteen points. Twenty-one points are too much,” he said decisively.

“Let’s go for fifteen points,” PD Na added, nodding at Minghao.

[They're more fluent in foreign languages than expected]

“We haven’t even reached two digits,” Luna pointed out, her tone light but teasing as she leaned back in her seat. Her comment earned another round of laughter from the members.

[Not even close]

“We can’t even reach ten points,” Vernon said, agreeing with her as he shook his head.

“Then let’s go with eleven,” PD Na concluded.

[Score 11 points first to win]

[The current score 0:0]

“Let’s score eleven points,” Woozi said, his voice calm but resolute as the new goal was set.

The members nodded in agreement, refocusing their energy as the game continued.

[The game resumes]

Seungkwan gripped the ball with determination, his fingers finding the familiar grooves of its surface as he bounced it against the court. Each dribble was controlled, a steady rhythm as he scanned the opposing team’s defense. His eyes darted, analyzing potential openings, before he darted left, faking out the nearest defender with a quick crossover. The ball moved seamlessly from one hand to the other, and Seungkwan surged forward.

As he neared the basket, his pace quickened, his movements fluid and deliberate. With a slight hop, he launched himself into the air for a layup. The ball left his hand in a smooth arc, aiming for the backboard—but before it could reach its mark, S.Coups’ hand shot up like a spring. The older member’s timing was impeccable; his palm met the ball mid-air with a satisfying smack, redirecting its trajectory. In one swift motion, S.Coups caught the ball, cradling it close to his chest as he landed.

[Nice defense by S.Coups]

“That was good defense,” Dokyeom called out from the bleachers, his voice cheerful as he munched on a bag of snacks.

S.Coups nodded, his lips curving into a brief smile before he pivoted on one foot, protecting the ball as he began dribbling. His movements were measured yet aggressive. Wonwoo moved in quickly, his arms outstretched as he shadowed S.Coups, his fingers flexing in anticipation.

With a sudden lunge, Wonwoo swiped at the ball, his hand grazing its surface just enough to send it rolling away. S.Coups scrambled to regain control, his sneakers skidding slightly as he chased after it. But the ball rolled just beyond his reach, crossing the boundary line and forcing a turnover.

[Out]

“Seungcheol, that was a shame,” Jun called out from his seat, his tone both teasing and encouraging.

“Praise for your tenacity,” Dino added solemnly, his comment earning a chuckle from the sidelines.

The ball was now in Jeonghan’s hands. The court seemed to hum with anticipation as the members shifted positions, their focus zeroing in on the new play.

“Here comes Jisoo and Jeonghan,” Woozi narrated from the sidelines, his voice calm but laced with intrigue.

Joshua stood between Jeonghan and the basket, his posture firm as he prepared to block his teammate’s advance. Jeonghan feinted left, his body dipping slightly as if to sprint past Joshua’s right side. The sudden movement caused Joshua to shift his weight, but Jeonghan pivoted at the last second, slipping past on the opposite side with a burst of speed.

“He breaks through,” Woozi observed, his tone rising with excitement.

Jeonghan’s steps were quick and calculated as he weaved through the remaining defenders, his dribbling precise and unrelenting. Nearing the basket, he leaped gracefully, releasing the ball with a flick of his wrist. It arced beautifully through the air before sinking cleanly into the net.

[Jeonghan scores]

The red team erupted into cheers, their voices overlapping in excitement. The scoreboard was changed with the updated tally of 0:2.

On the sidelines, Luna leaned over toward the white team’s bench, her curiosity piqued by the sound of crunching. “Kyeomie, can I have some of that please?” she asked, eyeing the snack in his hands.

[Focused on something else entirely]

Dokyeom wordlessly passed her the bag, his focus still on the court. Luna took a handful, but her attention snapped back to the game as the cheers reached a crescendo. She turned just in time to see Jeonghan’s shot go in, her mouth still full.

“Wah! Yoon Jeonghan MVP!” Luna cheered through a mouthful of biscuit, raising her snack triumphantly instead of her pom-poms. Her impromptu gesture sent the members into fits of laughter.

[She still cheers]

The game resumed the ball once again in Jeonghan’s hands. He maneuvered down the court with ease, his dribbling smooth and practiced. But as he approached the basket, the white team closed in, their arms raised in a wall of defense. Realizing his path was blocked, Jeonghan made a split-second decision, tossing the ball blindly over his shoulder.

“There are so many people,” Hoshi commented from the sidelines, his voice tinged with disbelief.

The ball arced toward Mingyu, who caught it effortlessly. Scanning the court, Mingyu spotted Joshua and aimed a sharp pass in his direction. But before the ball could reach its target, Jeonghan intercepted it mid-flight, slapping it away. The ball skidded across the floor, rolling dangerously close to the boundary line.

Joshua didn’t hesitate. He dove forward, his body hitting the ground as he scooped the ball back into play.

[Joshua saves it]

“Joshua, that was a nice touch,” Hoshi said instinctively, his words earning an immediate reaction.

Luna turned sharply, smacking Hoshi on the arm. “Ya, you…” she muttered, her voice dripping with exasperation.

Realizing his mistake, Hoshi clamped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with regret.

“Hoshi said ‘Joshua,’” PD Na announced, his tone teasing but firm.

“Sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on,” Hoshi said hurriedly, his voice muffled behind his hand. Turning to his teammates, he added, “I’m sorry. I won’t say anything from now on.”

[He becomes a hamster from guilt]

“Hoshi is the villain in that team,” Dokyeom said, pointing an accusatory finger at Hoshi.

“Mafia. He’s the other mafia,” Luna deadpanned, her focus back on her snack as if completely over the chaos.

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo reassured from his position on the court, though his words were ironic given the beads of sweat on his brow.

[Panting]

“I think this might go on until tomorrow,” Minghao remarked from his referee seat, his expression neutral as he leaned back.

His comment elicited laughter from PD Na, who was sitting next to him.

[He finds it funny]

“I’m very happy to watch you. You make me happy,” Minghao added, his voice so dry it bordered on comedic.

The game, chaotic yet entertaining, showed no signs of slowing down.

[Both teams switch after the score resets]

The game momentarily paused as there was switches in players.

Team White rotated Dino, Dokyeom, and S.Coups into the game, while Mingyu, Jun, and Joshua made their way to the bench. Similarly, Team Red had Seungkwan, Vernon, and Woozi, giving Wonwoo, Hoshi, and Jeonghan a chance to rest.

[Mingyu, Joshua, Jeonghan, Wonwoo out]

[Dino, DK, Woozi, Vernon in]

Jeonghan, as casual as ever, strolled over to the bench. With his characteristic cool demeanor, he sat himself between Hoshi and Luna.

Seungkwan, now on the court, turned toward the bench and quipped with a grin, “Jeonghan, you could cover Hoshi’s mouth.”

The words elicited a chorus of laughter, with Hoshi dramatically clasping his hands over his mouth as if preemptively preventing another slip.

[Covering it himself]

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at the comment, amusement flickering in his eyes. He leaned back slightly, stretching his arms behind the bench, his calm aura contrasting with the game’s chaotic energy.

As the laughter subsided, Luna reached down without a word, her fingers curling around a water bottle. She straightened and handed it to Jeonghan, her gaze flicking to his briefly.

Jeonghan accepted the bottle without hesitation, a faint smile playing on his lips. He unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, the cool water easing his exertion from the earlier plays.

“I feel so bad,” Hoshi murmured from Jeonghan’s other side, his voice tinged with genuine remorse.

Jeonghan shook his head lightly, his expression soft yet reassuring. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone gentle as if absolving Hoshi of his guilt.

Turning his attention to PD Na, Jeonghan asked with subtle curiosity, “What’s the prize?”

Luna, now watching him with a playful smirk, interjected, “It’s the only thing keeping him going right now.”

[Motivated]

The bench chuckled at her comment. Jeonghan, unbothered, leaned forward slightly as Luna wrapped her arms around his, resting her head on his shoulder. He let her settle there, his demeanor entirely nonchalant as if her affection was the most natural thing in the world.

PD Na grinned mischievously. “Oh, I haven’t told you. There’s a huge prize. You’d want to win.”

Luna, still nestled against Jeonghan, tilted her head slightly, her attention drifting to his hands resting on his lap. She noted their slight stiffness and how they seemed paler than usual in the chilly open field. Without a word, she reached down, enveloping both of his larger hands in hers. Her small hands tried their best to cover his, her palms pressing against the cold surface of his skin.

Jeonghan glanced down at her, his gaze softening as he watched her efforts. She yawned then, her head tilting against his shoulder.

“You tired?” he asked softly, his voice a gentle murmur.

“Mmm… sleepy,” Luna replied, yawning again as her eyes fluttered closed momentarily.

“Aigo,” Jeonghan whispered, his voice barely audible as he leaned his head down against hers. The moment was brief but tender, a silent acknowledgment of their shared closeness.

The tranquility of their moment was shattered by a sudden outburst from Mingyu, who was sitting further down the bench.

“S.h.o.t. Shoot!” Mingyu shouted toward the players on the court, his enthusiasm causing heads to turn.

From beside him, Joshua leaned towards him and corrected, “S.h.o.o.t.”

“Really?” Mingyu asked, visibly surprised, his eyes wide as he processed the correction.

Luna, unable to contain her amusement, pointed at Mingyu with a laugh. “Cute,” she said, her voice tinged with playful affection.

Mingyu’s confused but endearing expression earned a round of chuckles from the bench, lightening the mood before the game resumed.

The ball was with Woozi, who dribbled it carefully, his small but quick hands controlling the orange sphere as he scanned for an opening. He faked a pass to Vernon on his right but instead launched the ball towards Seungkwan with precision. Seungkwan caught it effortlessly, quickly pivoting as S.Coups stepped in to block.

“Now it’s getting real,” PD Na commented, his tone tinged with anticipation.

“I’m going to play seriously,” Seungkwan declared, a determined glint in his eyes as he began dribbling with renewed vigor.

From the sidelines, Wonwoo observed the intensity building. “Seungkwan looks tired,” he remarked, his sharp eye noticing the slight lag in Seungkwan’s footwork as he backed up on S.Coups.

“Seungkwan needs to keep playing,” Hoshi said, leaning forward with interest, his excitement palpable.

Seungkwan, undeterred by S.Coups’ towering frame, dribbled to the right, then swiftly crossed over to his left, the ball nearly invisible as it passed between his legs. S.Coups stepped forward to block, but Seungkwan spun around, slipping past him with remarkable agility.

With a clear lane to the hoop, Seungkwan charged forward. S.Coups lunged to recover, but Seungkwan executed a clean layup, the ball kissing the backboard before sinking into the net.

[He scores again]

Cheers erupted from Team Red, the sound claps mingling together. Even Team White couldn’t help but clap at the impressive play.

“That was so cool, Boo Seungkwan!” Luna said enthusiastically, her voice carrying from the bench as she stayed nestled beside Jeonghan.

“I approve,” Jun added, his applause sincere.

“You deserve an applause,” Minghao chimed in, nodding appreciatively.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Hoshi muttered, not wanting to mess up again.

“Good. Good job, team,” Jeonghan said nonchalantly, leaning back as if Seungkwan’s effort was exactly what he expected.

The ball was now in Vernon’s hands. He moved cautiously, dribbling down the court while keeping his eyes on his teammates. Spotting an opportunity, he attempted a jump shot from mid-range, but Dokyeom and Dino closed in swiftly, their combined height blocking the ball.

The rebound fell back into Vernon’s hands. Wasting no time, he passed it to Woozi, who looked ready to shoot.

“Go for it. Shoot,” Luna encouraged, her voice light but supportive.

Woozi hesitated for a moment before returning the ball to Vernon.

“Shoot,” Jeonghan added lazily.

Vernon looked determined but chose to pass back to Woozi, who finally took the shot. The ball arced beautifully through the air, but it bounced off the rim, missing by inches.

“I thought he scored,” Joshua said, her voice tinged with shock as everyone’s eyes followed the rebound.

Seungkwan grabbed the loose ball, dribbling quickly as he maneuvered around defenders. He tossed it up toward the hoop, aiming for another layup, but S.Coups intercepted mid-air with a perfectly timed block.

Stealing the ball, S.Coups sprinted out of the three-point line, dribbling with precision as he planned his next move.

“Just shoot,” Mingyu called from the sidelines, his voice impatient yet supportive.

S.Coups feinted a shot, drawing two defenders toward him, then passed the ball to Dokyeom, who quickly tossed it back after seeing the Red team crowd around him.

“Three-pointer. Go. Three-pointer,” Mingyu urged, standing now as he clapped.

With a confident flick of his wrist, S.Coups launched the ball from beyond the arc. The members fell silent as the ball soared, swishing cleanly through the net.

[3-pointer by S.Coups]

The members erupted in cheers, Team White celebrating their first three-pointer. The score now stood at 3-2.

“Nice,” Mingyu said, the word slipping out in English as he clapped and stood up, caught in the excitement.

Luna, still leaning against Jeonghan, tilted her head, her sharp ears catching the English slip. She chuckled but didn’t comment, her focus shifting back to the game.

“He just said it,” Wonwoo said suddenly, his calm voice cutting through the cheers as he pointed at Mingyu.

“Who said what? We said nothing,” Mingyu replied, visibly confused as he looked around.

“After I said it, he scored a goal,” Mingyu explained, his tone earnest as if he didn’t realize his mistake.

“‘Goal’?” PD Na repeated, turning toward Mingyu with a raised brow.

[Dang it]

Luna doubled over, laughter spilling from her as she threw herself onto Jeonghan’s lap. Tears streamed from her eyes as she tried to catch her breath.

“He scored a ‘goal’?” PD Na repeated, his confusion evident.

“‘Gong,’” Joshua interjected, attempting to cover for Mingyu.

“I said ‘gong.’” Mingyu played along.

“In what context will you need to use the word ‘gong’ in that sentence?” Jeonghan asked, his deadpan delivery earning another burst of laughter from Luna, who clung to his arm as her shoulders shook.

“I said ‘gong,’” Mingyu insisted weakly, his face flushing as he tried to salvage the situation.

“What does it matter? You said ‘nice’ seconds before that anyway,” Luna chuckled, pointing at Mingyu as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

[She’s crying]

“She’s right. You did,” Wonwoo added, nodding toward Luna in agreement considering only the two of them noticed Mingyu’s earlier slip-up.

“Gosh,” Mingyu sighed in defeat, his shoulders slumping as the laughter continued.

“Gyu-gyu is so funny,” Luna said as she stood up, her voice still shaky from laughing. “He was quick with it, too. Cheollie didn’t even get to celebrate and feel himself for his three-pointer.”

Her comment sent them into another wave of laughter, including S.Coups, who walked over and hugged her around the waist in mock exasperation.

“How long is this gonna take?” Luna sniffled dramatically, her tone playful as she turned toward Jeonghan. Gently, she pushed him toward the court. “Go over there and play, hurry,” she said, her mock urgency making everyone laugh again.

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head as he stood before making his way to switch with Woozi.

“Always watch what you say,” Minghao advised the group, his voice laced with humor.

“What do I do? Should I try to be funny for the show or…” Mingyu asked PD Na, his tone both genuine and exasperated.

[Fundamental question]

“Be careful, yet still be funny,” Jun replied, his voice full of mock wisdom.

“That’s right. That’s the answer,” PD Na added, laughing.

“You learned Korean when you were young, didn’t you? You didn’t learn English,” Jun scolded teasingly.

“Right. That’s true,” Mingyu agreed, his tone resigned.

“Or we can all shut up altogether,” Luna deadpanned as she sat back down, earning another round of laughter as PD Na pointed at her.

“Our cheerleader…” PD Na trailed off, shaking his head with a grin.

Luna pretended to suddenly remember her role, shaking her pom-poms. “Let’s go, guys! I believe in you guys, really!” she cheered, her exaggerated enthusiasm drawing more laughter as the game resumed.

[Jeonghan of Team Red goes back in]

“The game resumes,” Minghao said, his calm voice cutting through the ambient noise.

Seungkwan took control of the ball, dribbling it purposefully as he moved forward. His left hand guided the ball with precision while his eyes scanned the court, reading the defensive setup. His movements were steady, keeping the ball close to his body to avoid turnovers.

“Keep calm,” Seungkwan murmured, his tone both encouraging and firm as he directed Vernon with a sharp nod.

Vernon darted into an open spot near the right wing, ready to receive the ball. Seungkwan quickly transferred the ball with a crisp chest pass, the orange leather spinning slightly as it traveled straight into Vernon’s waiting hands.

Without hesitation, Vernon pivoted on his right foot to face the basket. He briefly considered a shot but noticed Jeonghan cutting to the top of the key. Vernon flicked the ball to Jeonghan with a clean bounce pass.

Jeonghan caught it effortlessly, his body fluid as he adjusted his stance. With a quick dribble, he squared up and took the shot. The ball arced high, spinning in perfect backspin as it descended toward the rim.

“It’s a perfect team,” Woozi commented, his voice low but filled with pride.

“My team is great,” Hoshi said quickly, his excitement bubbling over.

“My team is amazing,” Woozi added with a small smirk, eliciting a chuckle from those nearby.

The ball hit the rim and spun around in a near-perfect circle, causing everyone to hold their breaths collectively. It teetered on the edge before bouncing out, narrowly missing the basket.

Seungkwan wasted no time. He dashed to recover the ball, his speed and agility unmatched as he secured the rebound near the baseline. With the White team scrambling to reorganize, he sprinted back into the paint, weaving between defenders.

He leaped for a layup, but the ball slipped out of his hand mid-air, sailing out of bounds. Gasps filled the area, but Seungkwan remained composed, quickly turning to chase after it.

Recovering the ball just before it crossed the sideline, he pivoted sharply, planting his left foot while his right swung around. With a powerful jump, he launched the ball toward the hoop once again. This time, it swished cleanly through the net.

[Seungkwan scores]

“Seungkwan’s really good,” PD Na commented as Team Red erupted into cheers, their voices echoing across the open field.

The scoreboard updated: 0:4.

“Nice!” Luna exclaimed, her voice full of enthusiasm as she clapped.

“Yay!” Wonwoo said softly, raising a hand in quiet celebration.

“The game will end soon,” Woozi remarked, his tone matter-of-fact.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Hoshi muttered, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Go score, Mingyu!” Dokyeom called out, his voice filled with encouragement as he clapped his teammate on the back. The two quickly switched positions, with Dokyeom retreating to defend while Mingyu moved into an offensive role.

[Mingyu of Team White also goes in]

All eyes turned to S.Coups as he caught the inbound pass. His dribbling was steady but purposeful as he made his way across the half-court line, his eyes locked on the basket.

“Seungcheol… Cheol?” Hoshi’s voice wavered, trailing off as he gulped audibly.

“I get nervous every time I speak,” Hoshi admitted, earning a chuckle from the sideline.

[His heart is about to explode]

“It’s okay,” Luna reassured him, her voice light with amusement.

“I feel so bad for them,” Hoshi said, glancing at the White team’s frustrated expressions.

“Mingyu, break through. You’re good at it,” Dokyeom encouraged, gesturing for Mingyu to move into position.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan intercepted a pass meant for S.Coups and quickly took possession of the ball. Dribbling in place for a moment, Jeonghan assessed his options, his expression cool and unreadable.

With a sudden burst of speed, he sidestepped Mingyu’s attempted block, his movements smooth and calculated. His shoulder dipped slightly as if to feint a pass, but he held on, cutting through the defense with ease.

Reaching the free-throw line, Jeonghan rose into the air, his form impeccable as he released the ball. The gym went silent as the ball soared toward the basket, spinning perfectly. It hit the backboard and dropped through the hoop with a satisfying swish.

[Jeonghan scores]

“That’s it! Nice!” Luna cheered, leaping to her feet with her pom-poms in hand.

“A point!” Woozi announced, clapping briefly.

“Good job,” Hoshi said, nodding in approval.

“Jeonghan, that was so cool,” Dokyeom added, his tone filled with admiration.

The scoreboard updated: 0:6.

“Five more points and Team Red wins,” Minghao noted, his tone even as he gestured toward the scoreboard.

Seungkwan was back in control of the ball, dribbling confidently as he weaved through White’s defense. He faked a pass to Vernon before pulling up for a mid-range jumper. The ball arced beautifully, hitting nothing but the net.

[Team Red is on a roll]

“Nice,” Woozi said with a small smile, his quiet approval carrying weight.

“Good! We’re almost there!” Luna said, standing again to cheer, her pom-poms shaking enthusiastically.

[Almost home]

“Very nice,” Wonwoo said, raising his hand in a subtle gesture of celebration.

The scoreboard updated: 0:8.

“Three more to go,” Luna said confidently, her gaze shifting toward the court.

“They’re on a roll now,” Minghao observed, his tone calm but impressed.

Sensing the pressure, the White team huddled briefly, their expressions serious as they discussed their next play. Mingyu, ever the jokester, decided to shift the mood.

“Can you just be funny and say ‘nice’?” he called out, his voice laced with mischief as he turned toward the Red team.

Seungkwan, who was standing near the half-court line, kept his lips tightly pressed together, refusing to take the bait.

“We’re SEVENTEEN. What’s the name of your team?” Mingyu added, his playful smirk widening.

“We need to cheer up, especially in times like this,” Woozi said, his voice steady as he reminded his teammates to stay focused.

Luna chuckled softly from the sidelines, shaking her head at Mingyu’s antics.

“Let’s make it funny,” Mingyu continued, his persistence unwavering.

“Very nice,” Jeonghan said, his tone calm and deliberate as he tried to steady his team’s nerves.

“Say ‘very nice’ for once,” Mingyu quipped, trying one last time to provoke a reaction.

“Is it our ball or your ball?” he asked, his tone feigning innocence.

Seungkwan didn’t respond verbally, instead pointing to himself to indicate that it was Team Red’s ball.

[Our ball]

“Team White better watch out. Even if you do, you’re at zero,” Minghao reminded, his delivery sharp and matter-of-fact.

Seungkwan held the basketball tightly in his hands, his eyes laser-focused as he surveyed the court. Dino was positioned in front of him, his arms spread wide, his feet shifting rapidly to match Seungkwan’s every move.

Seungkwan feinted to the left, his shoulders dipping subtly as if preparing to drive past Dino. Dino, quick on his feet, mirrored the movement, his body low and centered, ready to block any advancement. But Seungkwan had anticipated this. In an instant, he spun on his pivot foot, his body twisting fluidly as he changed direction, the ball moving seamlessly from his left hand to his right.

Dino lunged, attempting to close the gap, but Seungkwan was already a step ahead. Using his body to shield the ball, Seungkwan shifted his momentum forward, his dribble tight and controlled. As Dino reached out, trying to disrupt the play, Seungkwan expertly bounced the ball behind his back, switching hands and slipping past his defender.

Seungkwan’s gaze darted across the court, spotting Vernon positioned just outside the three-point line, his hands ready. Without breaking stride, Seungkwan executed a crisp chest pass, the ball zipping through the air in a perfect arc.

Vernon caught it effortlessly, his hands absorbing the ball’s momentum. He squared his shoulders to the hoop, his knees bending slightly as he prepared to shoot. And as Vernon released the ball, his shooting form was textbook perfect. The ball spun in a flawless backspin, soaring through the air before swishing cleanly through the net.

[Vernon of Team Red scores]

“Chwe Hansol, good job!” Luna’s voice rang out, her excitement evident as she clapped enthusiastically. “The game is almost over!”

The scoreboard updated to: 0:10.

“It’s awesome,” Wonwoo said, his soft voice tinged with admiration.

“The game will end soon,” Woozi observed, his tone calm yet anticipatory.

Hoshi, unable to contain his nervous energy, stood up from his seat, covering his mouth with both hands as he watched the action unfold.

“One more point,” Luna said, her eyes darting toward Jeonghan, who was now facing Hoshi. Jeonghan, ever the composed strategist, raised a hand and made a subtle “calm down” motion, silently reminding Hoshi to stay focused and avoid any accidental slip-ups in English.

[One more and Team Red wins]

Luna approached Hoshi, her expression gentle but firm. She reached out, taking his hand in hers as if to ground him. “Hold back,” her gesture seemed to say, her silent encouragement calming his nervous fidgeting.

Back on the court, Seungkwan had regained possession of the ball. He dribbled with purpose, his eyes scanning the court. His gaze landed on Jeonghan, who had positioned himself near the basket, his stance relaxed yet poised for action.

With a swift and calculated move, Seungkwan lobbed the ball toward Jeonghan. The pass was precise, arcing gracefully through the air. Jeonghan caught it smoothly, his hands moving instinctively to secure the ball.

Without hesitation, he turned on his heel, his movements fluid and deliberate. He jumped, his body extending fully as he released the ball with perfect form. They fell silent as the ball soared toward the hoop, spinning in a controlled backspin. It hit the backboard and dropped through the net with a satisfying swish.

“It’s over!” Luna cheered, her voice rising above the noise as the scoreboard updated: 0:12.

Team Red erupted into cheers, their voices a mix of excitement and relief. “It’s over!” Seungkwan exclaimed, his grin wide as he high-fived Vernon and Jeonghan.

The team huddled together, their arms wrapping around each other as they jumped up and down in celebration, their energy infectious.

Meanwhile, Team White sighed collectively, their shoulders slumping in exaggerated defeat. Despite their loss, they clapped good-naturedly, their smiles showing they had enjoyed the game.

Luna, unable to contain her excitement, jumped up and down on the bleachers, her pom-poms shaking wildly as she cheered.

“Good job, team!” Jeonghan said, his tone calm but proud.

“It was amazing,” Hoshi added, his eyes wide as he demonstrated how he had covered his mouth in nervous anticipation. “I was like this the whole time because I felt so bad!”

“Good job. It’s okay,” Seungkwan reassured him with a pat on the back.

“Good game. We did our best,” Joshua told Mingyu, his tone warm and encouraging.

“Is it over now? No more?” Dokyeom asked, looking around with mock disbelief.

“I guess so,” Mingyu said, his lips forming a pout as he crossed his arms.

[Please drive Mingyu to Jamwon Han River Park]

From her spot on the bleachers, Luna noticed Mingyu’s exaggerated expression. Her face lit up as she skipped toward him, her steps light and playful. “Aigo, Gyu-gyu. You did a good job,” she said, her voice sweet as she threw herself into his arms.

Mingyu caught her easily, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off her feet with a grin. He spun her slightly before placing her back down gently.

“Seungkwan, your dribble,” Dokyeom said, turning to his teammate as the group began gathering near the bleachers.

“It was crazy,” Seungkwan admitted, shaking his head with a small laugh.

[They haven't played basketball together for a long time]

“Seungkwan’s good,” Jeonghan said, his tone approving.

“He is. You did great too,” Luna chimed in, her gaze shifting to Jeonghan as she smiled. Jeonghan responded by casually throwing an arm around her shoulders, his demeanor effortlessly cool.

“You’re good at laying up,” Joshua told Seungkwan, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

“Jeonghan and Seungkwan are good,” Minghao noted, his calm voice carrying a hint of pride.

[Satisfactory game]

“Hunminjeongeum game is fun,” Jeonghan remarked as they all settled onto the bleachers, their laughter and chatter filling the field.

[Hunminjeongeum basketball is over]

“Good job.” He started, his tone measured and approving. The members’ attention turned to him immediately, their expressions expectant. “Come forward, please.”

The instruction had them shifting in their seats, exchanging brief glances before standing up one by one. Minghao, ever the calm and observant one, softly encouraged the group as he rose. “Please come to the front,” he said, gesturing toward the center of the field.

Jun, with his signature wry humor, added as he followed Minghao’s lead, “Now we can speak English.”

The light remark drew a ripple of laughter from the group as they filed off the bleachers. “Nice game,” Mingyu said, his voice warm and genuine as he clapped lightly.

“Good game. Good game,” Joshua added, nodding appreciatively toward his teammates and opponents alike.

As they assembled at the front, facing both the cameras and PD Na, their movements were fluid, their postures reflecting the energy and camaraderie still fresh from the game.

“Well done. For Hunminjeongeum basketball, Team Red won,” PD Na announced, his voice steady but tinged with amusement.

A cheer erupted from Team Red— Seungkwan, Vernon, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Hoshi, and Woozi —punctuated by exuberant clapping. The rest of the members, joined in the applause, their smiles a mix of pride and acknowledgment.

“Well done, everyone,” Luna chimed in, her tone bright and encouraging as she clapped along, her pom-poms now resting at her sides.

“Good game, Team Red,” Dokyeom said, his voice carrying a blend of sportsmanship and lighthearted banter.

PD Na waited for the applause to settle before adding, “I said there’s a huge prize.”

That single statement reignited the members’ energy, their expressions shifting from satisfied to intrigued anticipation.

[Time to meet the huge prize]

“Is it a huge prize? Literally?” Mingyu asked, his eyes narrowing slightly in playful skepticism as he leaned forward, his hands resting on his hips.

“It is a huge prize,” Wonwoo said, his usually understated demeanor breaking into a soft laugh as his gaze shifted toward the staff members moving at the court’s edge.

“It really is a huge prize,” Jun confirmed, his head tilting slightly as he squinted at the approaching figure.

“What is that? It’s huge,” Luna said, her laughter bubbling up as she pointed toward the object being carried in by a staff member.

“Wow,” Dino and Seungkwan echoed almost simultaneously, their tones filled with genuine amazement.

“That’s a really huge prize,” Minghao remarked, his tone flat but his eyes betraying his amusement.

[Prize: Very huge trophy]

A collective gasp rippled through the group as the staff member finally came into full view, revealing an oversized trophy made up of multiple smaller trophies intricately stacked and bolted together. The gleaming monstrosity stood nearly as tall as some of the members, its absurdity matched only by its undeniable presence.

“That’s huge,” Wonwoo repeated, his tone slightly awed as he adjusted his glasses for a better look.

Seungkwan stepped forward, a mix of pride and incredulity on his face as he reached for the trophy. He gripped it carefully, his muscles tensing as he adjusted to its awkward weight and height.

PD Na chuckled lightly at the sight before addressing the group again. “I’m sorry, but you need to place it at home… Take a picture of it and post it on social media.”

The members broke into laughter, their amusement blending seamlessly with their agreement.

“Anyone wants to take it home?” Jeonghan asked, his tone casual as he glanced around, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

After a beat of collective hesitation, they all turned toward Seungkwan, who was still holding the massive trophy.

“Let Seungkwan have it,” Mingyu declared, earning a chorus of nods and murmurs of agreement.

“We’re giving you this prize, so you can get an even bigger prize. Congratulations,” PD Na concluded, his voice carrying a mix of humor and sincerity.

“Thank you!” the members chorused, their voices overlapping as they clapped once more, their spirits high despite the exhaustion lingering from the game.

[Review]

“Before we wrap up, let’s hear some final thoughts. Anyone want to start?” His gaze naturally shifted to S.Coups, the leader, who stepped forward slightly.

“It’s a shame that it’s over,” S.Coups began, his voice carrying a note of wistfulness, “but we have ‘Youth Over Flowers’.” The mention of the upcoming show made PD Na chuckle knowingly, his amusement was contagious as a few of the members laughed softly.

“That’s the fact,” Woozi affirmed with his usual matter-of-fact tone, nodding at S.Coups as if sealing the statement with finality.

S.Coups smiled and looked at the camera. “We’ll come back later. It’s coming. Trust Producer Na and wait.”

The group nodded in unison, their agreement punctuated by light laughter. Dokyeom, always the energetic spark, took this opportunity to speak next. He raised his hand slowly, dramatically, earning curious looks from the rest.

“A round of applause to this hand that picked ‘Youth Over Flowers’,” he declared, holding his hand out like a trophy as they erupted into cheers and claps.

[DK played a big role today]

“The true winner. The true lucky guy,” Dino quipped, giving Dokyeom a hearty pat on the back as the group clapped louder.

Dokyeom, basking in the moment, grinned wide. “I had so much fun today. We’ll have fun again on ‘Youth Over Flowers’. Please look forward to it. See you next time!” He waved enthusiastically, his energy infecting the group as a few mimicked his wave.

When Dino stepped forward, his youthful energy matched Dokyeom’s but with a tinge of sincerity. “I had so much fun today—”

He was abruptly cut off by Mingyu, who couldn’t help but laugh as he gestured toward Dino’s sleeveless basketball jersey. “Aren’t you cold?”

The members echoed with laughter as Dino glanced at himself and chuckled, clearly unfazed. Meanwhile, the camera panned to the rest of the group, most of whom were wearing long-sleeved shirts under their jerseys or jackets over them.

[Dino likes sleeveless shirts]

“Lulu too,” Mingyu added, pointing toward Luna, who was also sleeveless in a red jersey.

The group’s attention shifted to her, and they broke into laughter again.

“I’m cold even in these. Aren’t you two cold?” Woozi asked, tugging at his jacket for emphasis.

“I like the cold,” Luna replied simply, her hair catching the light as a breeze swept through the gym, brushing it back elegantly. The casual grace of her response made the members laugh again, nodding in amused agreement.

[Luna likes the cold]

Jeonghan, standing beside her, shook his head with a fond smile. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began rubbing her arms briskly with his palms to warm her up.

“It’s pretty cold,” Dino admitted, now slightly subdued. He looked around the group, his sincerity returning. “Anyway, it was fun today. I made a lot of good memories with them. It was a meaningful day.”

PD Na glanced around, waiting for someone else to step forward and speak, before pointing at Luna. “Our cheerleader,” he called out, prompting the group tolook at her.

“Our Ice Princess,” S.Coups teased, grinning as Luna scrunched her nose playfully and chuckled.

Luna stepped forward gracefully, adjusting her hair away from her face. “I just want to thank PD Na and the rest of the Game Caterers staff and crew for making us feel welcome and taking care of us,” she began, her voice steady and warm as she addressed both the group and the cameras. “We had a lot of fun, and I know CARATs will too once they watch this. I am also really excited for ‘Youth Over Flowers’, which will be coming soon.” She ended with a bright smile, her sincerity evident.

Seungkwan, still clutching the oversized trophy, decided to finish things off. He stepped forward, holding the trophy like a prized possession.

“Thank you for making good memories for us and for CARAT,” he said, his voice earnest and filled with gratitude. “I’m not tired at all. It was so much fun.”

“It couldn’t get any better.” Dokyeom raised two thumbs up.

The members murmured their agreement, nodding as the cameras captured their warm smiles and the camaraderie that radiated from the group.

Mingyu stepped forward, patting S.Coups on the back with a grin. “Go, leader,” he said, his voice playful but encouraging, signaling the leader to take charge of their final team goodbye. S.Coups gave a small nod, straightening up as he prepared to rally the group for their trademark farewell.

“We’re SEVENTEEN. Say the name…” S.Coups began, his tone commanding but warm, as he raised his hand in the familiar team gesture.

“SEVENTEEN!” the group chorused, their voices harmonizing as they completed the hand sign together. It was a moment of unity, their energy radiating as they all bowed in unison to the cameras.

“Thank you!” the members echoed, their voices overlapping as they began waving enthusiastically to the crew, staff, and cameras.

As if on cue, the chorus of ‘Very Nice’ burst through the speakers, instantly reigniting the playful atmosphere. Some of the members immediately broke into the iconic choreography, moving to the beat with exaggerated enthusiasm.

['VERY NICE' ending]

[Automatic reaction]

Luna, standing slightly to the side, couldn’t help but bounce along to the music, her steps lazy but rhythmic as she swayed in time with the beat. Her movements were lighthearted, her smile growing as she watched the chaos unfold.

Meanwhile, a few of the others— like Joshua— began revisiting the meme-worthy dance moves he had displayed earlier during the game. Mingyu and Dokyeom gleefully copied his exaggerated arm movements, adding their own flair, as the rest of the group either danced or clapped along.

The chorus of ‘Very Nice’ reached its peak, the members’ energy infectious, before the song faded out. As the final notes ended, PD Na leaned forward with a look of amusement in his face.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, his words simple but filled with gratitude.

Another chorus of “Thank you!” rang out from the members, accompanied by bows and waves as they expressed their appreciation to the staff and cameras one last time. Their voices mingled with laughter and cheerful goodbyes, the atmosphere light and celebratory as the filming officially came to an end.

[Their quick meet ended]

['Super' Challenge]

[April 27, 2023, SEVENTEEN's comeback week,CJ ENM in Sangam-dong]

The energy at CJ ENM was palpable, the staff bustling as SEVENTEEN’s comeback week hit full stride. The dressing room was filled with the faint buzz of conversation and last-minute touch-ups as the members prepared for their upcoming performance of Super.

The room was bathed in a mix of gold and deep blue— a reflection of the modern hanbok outfits they wore. Each piece was tailored to perfection, embodying a fusion of tradition and modernity.

[They're here for 'Super' Challenge]

Luna stood by the far wall, her back leaning casually against it. She wore a dark blue hanbok-inspired ensemble trimmed with gold accents. The modern twist came through in the short, pleated skirt and fitted bodice, which was adorned with delicate patterns reminiscent of celestial constellations. The sleeves were sheer, billowing lightly at the wrists, adding an ethereal touch to the look.

Jeonghan stood in front of her, one hand braced against the wall just above her head, his posture effortlessly casual. His long hair, framed his face as he leaned closer to speak. His voice was low, carrying a softness that only she could hear, while the corners of his lips curled into a smile. It was a sight that had become second nature to them— a stolen moment of their own amidst the chaos.

Their private bubble was abruptly pierced by a commotion of greetings from the hallway. A chorus of polite “Hello!” and excited murmurs filled the air.

Joshua, ever the observant one, peeked out of the doorway to investigate. His sharp eyes caught sight of PD Na and his crew approaching with their cameras already rolling. Without a word, Joshua turned back into the room and swiftly tapped Jeonghan and Luna on their shoulders, the urgency in his gesture clear.

Jeonghan immediately stepped back, his hand falling to his side as Luna straightened her posture. Their movements were seamless, and practiced. Though their relationship was known to their members, it remained a well-kept secret from the public. They both knew how to switch gears in an instant, their professionalism taking over.

Mingyu and Joshua were the first to step into the hallway, their smiles bright and their bows respectful. “Hello,” they greeted warmly.

“I can’t do it,” was the first thing PD Na said, his tone tinged with mock defeat. “I’ve seen it. Even singers can’t do it. How am I going to do it?”

[Whining]

Mingyu clapped wordlessly, his large hands creating a sound that echoed through the hallway, while Joshua chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

[Only the deities can do 'Super' challenge]

One by one, the members began filing out of the dressing room. S.Coups and Dino appeared next, their strides confident but relaxed.

“Did anyone do it?” PD Na asked, his curiosity genuine.

“Only one… Taeyang,” S.Coups replied, his tone matter-of-fact, earning a groan from PD Na.

[Na will be on the same level as Taeyang after this]

As Jun, Woozi, and Hoshi joined the gathering, PD Na’s shoulders slumped dramatically. “I’ll look forward to it,” Hoshi said, his tone teasing.

“It won’t be possible,” PD Na countered, shaking his head before grabbing Hoshi’s hands in genuine desperation. “Isn’t there an easy version?”

[Desperate look + Holding hands]

The hallway was now bustling, and most of the members already gathered to watch the challenge unfold. The atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and anticipation.

“Hello!” Luna stepped out next, her presence drawing immediate attention— not just because of her striking outfit but also because of the aura she carried. Jeonghan was right behind her, his gaze flickering briefly to ensure she was comfortable before he joined the others.

Jeonghan chuckled, glancing at Hoshi. “Hoshi, you should teach him.”

The members collectively moved closer, forming a loose semi-circle around the impromptu dance lesson. Dino leaned against the wall beside Luna, his arms crossed, observing the unfolding scene with a faint smirk. “Are you really going to teach him?” he asked skeptically.

“It’s a challenge, after all,” Hoshi replied with confidence, already rolling up the sleeves of his modern hanbok.

Hoshi stepped into the open space, his movements precise yet relaxed, demonstrating his mastery of the choreography.

He positioned himself, and with a deep breath, began. “‘Sono…’” Hoshi started, his voice carrying the iconic line from the song ‘Super’ as he stepped forward, demonstrating the first move.

PD Na mirrored the movement with hesitant precision, echoing, “‘Sono…’” His voice cracked slightly, drawing immediate cheers from the members watching.

“Oooohhh!” they chorused in unison, their exaggerated enthusiasm filling the hallway. The sound was loud enough to echo, making PD Na freeze mid-step. He turned to glare at the group, his expression caught between annoyance and amusement.

[SEVENTEEN cheers at Yung Suk's dance]

“Be quiet, for goodness’ sake,” he scolded them, though his tone lacked true bite. “Are you trying to lure people?”

[They're loud enough to draw everyone in the company]

The members erupted into laughter, clapping for him. Luna, resting her weight casually against the wall, grinned but said nothing, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Are you sure about this? We should find a way,” Mingyu interjected as they watched Hoshi teach PD Na, his tall frame towering over some of the others as he spoke. “Let’s all stand in a line and let him appear as he shakes.”

[Worried]

“That’s not a bad idea,” Wonwoo added thoughtfully, his arms folded across his chest.

[Or record each move separately and combine them]

Hoshi raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-step. “Should I record one at a time and edit it out?” he asked, the suggestion tinged with practicality.

“No. PD Na is a good dancer,” Luna said suddenly, her voice calm yet definitive. She had shifted to lean against the wall, her eyes fixed on the ongoing practice.

“He’s pretty good at it.” Mingyu chimed in, nodding in agreement.

“Left hand. Right hand. Gather. Stretch. Bam,” Hoshi instructed as he continued breaking down the choreography. His movements were slow and deliberate, ensuring PD Na could follow. PD Na tried again, his brows furrowed in concentration as he mimicked the steps.

From the sidelines, Wonwoo and S.Coups began shadowing the moves, their bodies swaying slightly as they followed Hoshi’s lead.

It wasn’t long before PD Na sighed, breaking the rhythm. “I won’t be able to memorize it,” he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation.

“But… you look like you can do it,” Joshua said encouragingly, earning a burst of laughter from PD Na.

“The song is too fast,” Wonwoo chuckled sympathetically, his tone almost apologetic.

“There’s a slow version, right?” Hoshi asked, glancing at the group as he paused to consider how to make things easier.

“Really?” PD Na perked up, hope flashing across his face. “Let’s use that. You should’ve told me earlier.”

[Smiling]

“That’s the happiest I’ve seen him today,” Luna deadpanned, her chin now resting lightly on Dino’s shoulder as she watched the scene unfold. Her dry remark sent another ripple of laughter through the group.

“You can fast forward it later,” PD Na quipped, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless.

[He sees hope in 'Super' Challenge]

The group soon realized that their activity was drawing attention in the busy hallway. With SEVENTEEN members, their staff, and PD Na all gathered together, they were occupying an inconvenient amount of space. One of the managers gestured for them to move inside, and the group began filing back into their dressing room.

The room was bustling with energy as they entered, with costumes and makeup tools scattered around, and water bottles and snacks sitting on the tables. The warm, slightly chaotic environment made the transition seamless.

Once inside, the members naturally dispersed into smaller groups. Some settled into chairs, a few stood near the mirrors fixing their outfits, while others lingered near the snack table. Luna found a seat beside Mingyu at the long table where they often sat to eat or rest. She pulled out her phone, her attention immediately consumed by something on her screen. Mingyu, meanwhile, sat with a plate of food in front of him, chewing as he observed the ongoing commotion with quiet amusement.

In the center of the room, Hoshi stood ready to resume the lesson, his energy unflagging. PD Na stood opposite him, looking slightly frazzled but game to continue.

“Look at Mingyu’s face. He has no faith in me,” PD Na suddenly said, pointing toward Mingyu. His tone was half-serious, half-teasing, and it immediately drew laughter from the room.

Mingyu, mid-bite, glanced up at the accusation. His chewing slowed, and he raised an eyebrow in mock offense.

[Eating]

Jeonghan, standing nearby, chimed in teasingly, “That’s disappointing.” He gestured toward Mingyu, his expression feigning disapproval.

“You look mean,” Mingyu shot back at Jeonghan, his words slightly muffled by the food in his mouth. He paused, then continued with exaggerated seriousness, “Jeonghan is smiling, but he has a bad intention behind his smile.”

The observation earned a laugh from Jeonghan, who couldn’t help the mischievous glint in his eye. His shoulders shook as he leaned back, clearly amused.

PD Na shifted his gaze, suddenly aware of the time crunch. “When does M Countdown begin?” he asked, his tone shifting to something more urgent.

“They have to be on standby in five,” one of the staff members answered promptly.

PD Na pulled out his phone, checking the time for himself. “We only have five minutes left,” he muttered, his expression growing slightly panicked.

Realizing the need to hurry, Hoshi and Jeonghan wordlessly teamed up, their natural camaraderie making the transition seamless. Hoshi gestured for PD Na to watch closely as he demonstrated the move again.

“‘I feel like Sonogong’,” Jeonghan and Hoshi sang the first line of the chorus of ‘Super’, his movements sharp and fluid. Jeonghan immediately mirrored him, harmonizing the line in perfect sync. Together, they moved through the choreography, their voices blending as they repeated the steps. “Left hand. Right hand. Gather. Stretch. Bam.”

PD Na mimicked their moves with increasing confidence, though his motions lacked the precision of the two seasoned performers. “One more time,” Hoshi said, his tone patient but firm.

They repeated the sequence, with Jeonghan stepping in closer to correct PD Na’s posture, while Hoshi slowed the tempo slightly to make it easier.

From the sidelines, S.Coups burst into laughter. He clapped his hands together, his body doubling over as he leaned into Luna and Mingyu, wrapping an arm around each of them for support.

“I can’t believe it works,” Dino commented from where he stood, his voice tinged with surprise.

“Good. Good,” S.Coups chuckled, still draped over Luna and Mingyu, his amusement infectious.

Just as the atmosphere hit its peak, one of the SEVENTEEN staff members entered the room, their voice cutting through the chatter. “Vocal team, standby!” they announced, their tone brisk and authoritative.

[Vocal Team has to go]

The mention of standby immediately set the vocal unit into motion. Joshua, Woozi, Seungkwan, Dokyeom, Jeonghan, and Luna moved toward the door with practiced efficiency, their casual demeanor never betraying the professionalism they exuded on stage.

[Time is getting near]

Dokyeom turned back just before leaving, offering a warm smile and a quick, “Good luck,” to PD Na. Jeonghan and Luna both paused to bow politely in his direction, their gestures respectful yet swift.

“Fighting!” Luna added her voice light but encouraging as she stepped out alongside the others. The door closed behind them, leaving the rest of the group to resume their antics inside.

[They're running out of time]

[They proceed before other teams go]

The group transitioned smoothly to the next segment of filming— the dance challenge.

SEVENTEEN’s staff was already setting up, a camera in hand, adjusting its angle to focus on PD Na, who stood at the forefront with Hoshi and Vernon. The rest of the members lingered toward the back, casually chatting and watching the preparations unfold. The room buzzed with anticipation, the energy lively but focused.

The camera operator stepped into position, holding the lens steady in front of PD Na. “Here we go. Producer Na, smile please,” the staff member directed cheerfully, their tone lighthearted yet professional. PD Na’s lips twitched into a nervous, awkward smile that immediately drew quiet laughter from the observing members.

[His debut is near]

[The original 'Super' challenge video]

“Oh, this is so much fun. I’m so happy,” PD Na muttered dryly, his tone dripping with sarcasm, which only made the group laugh harder.

Hoshi, ever the performer, clapped his hands together once. “Okay. We’re ready,” he announced confidently, his enthusiasm practically infectious.

From the back of the room, Mingyu’s voice cut through the chatter, a touch of playful encouragement in his tone. “Let’s go,” he said, his eyes on the small group preparing to dance.

The camera operator gave the signal, and the recording began. The room fell silent except for the faint sound of the music cueing up in the background. The slowed version of ‘Super’ started to play, the opening beats recognizable and immediately captivating.

“‘I feel like Sonogong,’” Hoshi sang softly in sync with the music, his voice steady as he led the opening line. He immediately transitioned into the dance, his movements sharp but slowed for PD Na to follow. “Left hand. Right hand. Gather. Stretch. Bam,” Hoshi directed patiently, his voice clear as he guided each step. Vernon mirrored Hoshi’s movements, his casual energy balancing Hoshi’s intensity, while PD Na tried his best to keep up. His steps were a bit offbeat, but the earnest effort was enough to keep the room entertained.

[Even you can do 'Super' challenge]

From the back, the other members watched with amusement, their faces alight with pride and humor as PD Na fumbled through the steps. Dino and Seungkwan exchanged grins, while S.Coups subtly mimicked the dance in his spot, his movements exaggerated for comedic effect. The playful energy radiating from the group was infectious.

As the song reached its conclusion, Hoshi called out, “Everyone, gather for the ending.” His voice carried over the music, and the rest of the members jumped into action, stepping into the frame with practiced ease. They surrounded PD Na, forming a loose circle as they struck playful poses, waving and smiling toward the camera.

“Bye!” they all chorused, their voices overlapping as they waved enthusiastically. The final shot captured their bright expressions, the harmony of their personalities blending seamlessly into a single moment of lighthearted fun.

[Nice wrap up]

When the camera stopped rolling, applause erupted from the group. The members clapped for PD Na, their cheers loud and encouraging. The producer grinned sheepishly, clearly relieved that the challenge had concluded successfully.

“I’ll be out of town for a while,” PD Na said, straightening up and adjusting his jacket. “Call me when you’re done performing. Bye now.” He waved as he turned to leave, the members bidding him farewell with warm smiles and cheerful gestures.

['Super' Challenge is over]

As the door closed behind him, the room seemed to exhale collectively, the energy shifting back into a more relaxed rhythm as the group prepared for the next activity.

[Let's meet again one day]

[The Game Caterers]

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - selఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco

[fuctacles]

Small world indeed

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

@genderthings Stobin at Work: fantasy job T | Platonic Hellcheer and Stobin, pre-steddie and buckingham | summer job time!

Finally, they have a little reprieve from the sadness that is Hawkins. Eddie didn't expect Chrissy to follow him, but once she learned more about renfaires there was no talking her out of it. Her parents still thought it was a summer camp job, which wasn't far from the truth is a summer camp was catering mostly to adult nerds. 

The pay was shit, but the real reason Eddie was there was being immersed in the small renfaire village, living there and eating for free. Money was secondary on his priority list. Once he found out he could attend for free in exchange for help, he called the organizers and got himself the best job imaginable right after being a successful musician. The boys had their summer mostly planned out but Chrissy decided to join him.

They park the van in the designated parking space out of view, where it won't ruin the medieval scenery. There's only a few other cars there, as the fair is still a couple of days from opening. Its mostly other vans and trucks, except a familiar Bimmer. But Eddie is probably just paranoid. There's no way Harrington was here, miles from Hawkins at a renfaire. 

"You the newbies?" a short woman greets them at the gate, already dressed in hobbit-like garbs. Eddie could start crying at the spot. 

"Yes, we're new. I'm Chrissy and this is Eddie," Chrissy has to introduce them, since her friend has gone speechless. 

"I'm Marge, nice to meet you!" the woman checks something off in her notepad. "The others are already here and waiting for the briefing." Marge motions for them to follow. "I'll show you to the staffs tent, it's where we hold meetings and have meals. Artem will tell you everything." She holds the flap of the tent open for them to walk through. 

Only, Chrissy stops in her tracks and Eddie runs into her back. 

"Chrissy?! Are you the other new hires? Oh my god!"

It's Robin Buckley's excited voice.

Eddie instinctively tries to hide behind Chrissy's tiny friend, because where's Robin...

"Eddie? Holy shit guys, we thought we would ran into you at this nerd festival, but as co-workers? Oh, this is gonna be great!" Steve grins at him, visible from under Chrissy's armpit. 

"You know each other?" Marge peers around them to look inside the tent. "That's sweet, most of the staff are friends." She smiles at them. "I'll go grab Artem." With a gentle pat on the back, she sends them stumbling inside. 

"What are you guys doing here?" Eddie croaks out when Steve lifts him in a tight hug. 

"We thought we could do something fun for a change," Steve shrugs, putting him down.

"Yeah, constant cleaning and waiting tables is a bummer." Robin sticks out her tongue. Her arm is looped around Chrissy's.

"And we get discounts, I thought I could treat Henderson to some nerd stuff when he's back from his other nerd camp."

"That's very nice of you," Eddie offers weakly. 

"Everyone here?" A new voice comes from the entrance, and a burly man with an impressive beard comes inside. "My name is Artem and I'll be your chief," he introduces himself. "Hope you're ready for three months of nerdy fun."

Chrissy and Eddie exchange panicked looks. More like three months of torturous pining. If they put Steve in a linen tunic, there better be a healer nearby.

Tags: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94 @eyehartart