#and even then if you do that once they enlist it's over
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The most confusing part of the verivery situation to me is like. That one Group everyone focuses on? Were in Vixx's gen. Jellyfish saw what happened in real time how boygroups were shoved in the background for that one group so why put your money in launching ANOTHER boy group?? Gugudan had genuine hits AND a fanbase-why waste the cash on trainees??
I dont even know if i buy the money laundering theory anymore because. That just aint a good business move legally OR illegaly. (Sorry Miss kendra im very passionate about this😂😭)
no speak on it like That Group debuted the Same year as vixx 😭😭😭 they literally performed together before they blew up to mega stardom like we know you saw that??????? if they weren't laundering money then it just was arrogance and misogyny like yes out of all the groups that debuted in 2012 you managed to have one of the ones that eked out a solid place in the domestic market long term and you think you can do that AGAIN????? when verivery has no star member or iconic niche??????? BE FR!!!! literally if they kept ggd going and then debuted another gg that was lore heavy/playing on being conceptual like vixx that combo would've taken that group far. and then they did this shit again with a new new boy group like the ceo is on DRUGS 😭😭😭😭 no one gives a fuck abt boy groups bro!!!!
#like they really thought they could have another vixx when free market kpop is longggggg gone 😭#boy groups from mid to small sized companies are nawt making money unless you make them fake negroes and market HARD to the west#and even then if you do that once they enlist it's over
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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology
MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist
Part 5: Night Out
You find yourself squeezed into the center of a round corner booth, Johnny to your left and Kyle to your right with John beside him. The bar is relatively quiet, even for a Saturday night. It is early, though. Plenty of time left in the night for more people to file in. Apparently they go out drinking every third week of the month, a day set aside for them to be together and celebrate another month of success. It’s sweet that they invited you, if not a little nerve wracking - you’re not exactly sure how much they plan on drinking and you’ve been known to be rather… sloppy after one too many.
You nervously adjust your top while Johnny yaps about the equipment sales person with the incredible ass. It’s hard not to squirm being packed in between them, hyper aware of the width of your hips and the size of your arms as they squish against far more toned, muscular limbs. A mean itch in the back of your mind lectures you about taking up too much space - about inconveniencing the people around you. About the optics of the pitiable fat girl tolerated by the handsome men around her.
An elbow to your arm finally knocks you out of your daze. “Och! There he is!”
You blink, following Johnny’s gaze to the man climbing into the booth beside him. It takes your brain a moment to catch up, processing the person in front of you. Your eyes turn to saucers as you realize it’s Simon - signature tattoos, piercings and all - just without his usual surgical mask. It shouldn’t make that much a difference, he still has that low brow and big dark eyes that slide over to you and make your stomach flip…but now you get the addition of his crooked nose, broken more than once and not set right, a small cleft scar leading down to a part of pretty, pink lips that quirk up in the corners when he catches you staring. A few scars scattered across his sharp jaw you hadn’t noticed before and a light layer of blonde stubble around each engraving on his face.
“You’re pretty!?” You gasp, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them. You bury your face in your hands while the others (Johnny) burst out in a fit of laughter. Simon’s shoulders shake in that signature, barely audible chuckle as he settles into the booth. Suddenly you feel a little less self conscious about the amount of space you take up in comparison.
John orders a round for everyone. Some light mixers to sip while you talk. You stick to listening, mostly, while the boys talk shop. You pick up a few personal tidbits here and there - specifically about Simon’s apparent sweet tooth as Johnny teases him about going through an entire package of licorice in one sitting. You file that away for later. Apparently John got his start after he enlisted in the military and got several very shitty tattoos during the first couple of years. Dropped out to get an apprenticeship, figuring he could do better. Kyle rolls his eyes, as if he’d heard the tale a few too many times.
“Where ye thinkin’ of lettin’ Kyle ink ye?” Johnny leans in close, breaking out of the group conversation.
You tilit your head. “Haven’t really thought about it. Wherever he’s comfortable, I guess.”
“Givin’ him free reign? Tha’s dangerous, bonnie. Might put it somewhere scandalous.”
“Wouldn’t be the first.” You blurt, regretting it immediately when you see that impish sparkle in his eye.
Johnny dips closer to you, shoulder pressing against yours. “Oh? Thought ye were a good girl, hen.”
“I’ve got a couple you haven’t, and will never get close enough to see, MacTavish.” You laugh.
“Is tha’ a challenge?” He grins, hand just barely ghosting over your thigh.
You shrug, face hot. ”Even if it was, you’d lose.”
There’s probably something deeply wrong with flirting with your coworkers while your boss sits a foot away, but your skin is too warm and your drink tastes to good for you to focus on that fleeing thought for long.
“From the gentleman at the bar.” A woman appears in front of your table, sliding a glass of pink cocktail toward you.
You stare at it before glancing up to meet a pair of dark eyes. He’s handsome, smiles and nods before going back to his own drink. Something cold runs down your spine, the bar warping for only a second. Your lip catches between your teeth before you push it away.
“That’s bold.” John scoffs, a twitch in his brow.
“Not gonnae take a free drink, bon?” Johnny teases, batting at your arm. “He’s no’ half bad lookin’. I’d take a bite.”
“I don’t take drinks from strange men.” You snap, a little harsher than you meant as you push the glass even further. “You can have it if you want.”
There’s a beat where you keep your eyes square on the table, waiting for an insistence that you take it, that you talk to him, that you just do what he wants because he seems nice enough. That you’ve ruined the mood by being sensitive, like you always do. Instead, Johnny grabs the glass and downs whatever fruity cocktail was inside.
“Alright, if I pass out ye have t’ carry me now.” He laughs, the conversation returning to the same pace as before. You just look up at him for a moment - his eyes bright and unwavering.
The more you’re with them, the more guilt you feel for doubting them in moments like this - but, equally, the more unreal they seem. Too perfect of men for you to have stumbled across. Too good for something as damaged as you. There’s a pang of loneliness at the thought.
You’re one again pulled from your thoughts - well, redirected, more like - when John’s arm comes to rest around the back of the booth behind Kyle, fingers brushing against your shoulder ever so slightly. You’d been noticing it more recently - John’s tendency to hover. He doesn’t cling like Johnny but he stays just a hair away. Fingers ghost over your arms and a hand hovers over your back. Sometimes he holds the back of your seat, leaning over you while looking at the appointment book, that wafting scent of leather and petrichor enveloping you.
He doesn’t look at you, talking across the table to Simon about some business thing. At least you think, you really hadn’t been listening. Maybe you should have.
“We should go check out that new place up the street.” Kyle announces, scrolling through his phone. “They’ve got great room for dancin’, apparently.”
“Is dancin’ the mood for the night?” Simon sighs, tilting his head forward. Even without the mask his expression remains placid. Difficult to read.
“Aye!” Johnny wraps an arm firmly around your shoulders. “We’ve got t’ take our little lass out on the town!”
You scoff, cheeks warming at the idea that you’re theirs. Their lass - their girl. Fuck that last drink really good to you, huh?
Johnny walks with an arm sling around Kyle’s waist ahead of you, John laughing and shaking his head at them. Simon hangs back a bit as you walk, taking small, slow steps to stay beside you with his hands in his pockets. The same as when he walks you home every night you close together. You silently revel in the safety of it - of having this massive man in your shadow to block out everything else. You risk glancing up at his face - so new to you despite knowing each other for weeks. His skin glows in the passing street lights.
So not fair that he’s been hiding lips that kissable.
That’s totally the drinks talking.
“Y’alright?” He murmurs, glancing down at you.
You jump a bit, not realizing you’d been staring, eyes wide and hazy. Since when we’re you such a lightweight? “Yeah.”
“Still bothered about that guy?”
You blink. In all honesty, you’d completely forgotten him. Too busy enjoying your time with your boys. Your boys. Your boys. Their girl. That feels really good.
“No.” You shake your head and grin. “Sorry for being weird about it.”
“Y’weren’t.” Simon shakes his head solemnly, lapsing into a comfortable silence as you walk. It’s made up for by Johnny’s forceful cover of Pink Pony Club.
The place is packed when you get there, Simon having to use his bulky form to push through and secure you all a standing table. Not that you really need it, it’s mostly so the four of you can do a few shots - as per Johnny and Kyle’s insistence. Yours too, but it’s more fun to use them as an excuse to down two green tea shots back to back. You’ve never been good at saying no anyway.
“C’mon, luv.” Kyle herds you toward the dance floor and you follow, not unaware of Johnny right at your back. Your head buzzes, the world feeling loose and slow and comfortable around you. That wall you might otherwise have up long gone as you’re safely pinned between two of your favorite boys.
Kyle’s hands trail down your sides to knead at your hips, guiding them to move in tandem with his. Johnny presses closer to your front, hooking your arms up around his neck. If you were any more sober, you might have thought twice about the way you grind back against Kyle and press your chest into Johnny - your coworkers - but as it stands you couldn’t care less. Your body buzzes with a comfortable warmth, the music seems to course through your veins. It’s so easy to let them guide you, to melt into them, to tilt your head back onto Kyle’s chest and grin up at Johnny’s big blue eyes.
It’s the loosest you’ve felt in a long, long time
Johnny says something you can’t hear, his head ducking and lips grazing the shell of your ear. A touch starved part of you wants to whine, to throw yourself into him and burrow into his chest. Bury yourself right between his ribs - surely it’s warm in there. The very sun itself housed where his heart should be.
Maybe you’re reaching the water-only time of the night.
You tilt your head, half-lidded eyes making contact with Simon’s. They’re boring into you, seemingly memorizing the way you three move against each other. Each step and sway stored away for future reference. Surely it’s in your imagination.
Eventually, you shuffle around - trading yourself for Kyle as John’s big hands come to rest respectfully on your waist. The music slows a bit, at least, making it easier to dance with your boss without feeling like you’re crossing a boundary. Not that you would mind crossing that boundary. You’d leap over it if you could - those pretty blue eyes smiling down at you in the multicolor bar light. Leather and petrichor fill your nose. There’s a spice to it that isn’t usually there. Your drunkenness sets your fingers alight as they trace up his strong arms to rest on his shoulders.
“Glad y’came tonight, dove.” John says, barely having to shout over the music. His voice just has that commanding timber to it that makes itself heard no matter the circumstance.
You give him a crooked grin. “Me too.”
John just hums, swaying you carefully. People don’t do this, a small part of you thinks. Don’t dance with their bosses. You look down to where you’re pressed together. It feels good, though. You wonder if you’re more to him than an employee - if he considers you a friend despite your inequalities of age and rank.
“Is it silly to say that I’m really happy?” You mutter, not expecting John to hear over the music.
“Not at all.” He shakes his head, dipping lower so you can hear him more clearly. “I’m very grateful that we get to have you.”
Somehow your face gets hotter and in an attempt to calm down you glance over his shoulder to where Simon still stands, leaned against the wall with a glass in hand. His eyes rake over the crowd, sometimes resting on Johnny and Kyle, sometimes you and John, sometimes they seem to just look off into the distance. A woman walks up to him. She’s pretty. Tall with dark hair. You can’t see her face - can’t tell what she says. A slimy, nosy little part of you doesn't like it, despite having no right to an opinion. Simon’s expression remains flat as he responds and she stomps away.
You turn back to John. “Does Simon not dance?”
John chuckles. “Rarely.”
You pout. “I hate that he’s all alone.”
“He’s fine, love. Promise.”
“I’m gonna ask him.”
“Good luck.” John laughs, letting you push your way out of the crowd as the current song comes to an end.
“Si!” You call loudly over the music, movements sloppy.
“Hm?” He cocks a brow.
You lock your hands around his wrist like a child trying to pull their parent toward some bright thing that caught their eye. He doesn’t pull away like a more sober you might expect. “Come dance with me!”
“I don’t dance.” He scoffs.
“Please?” You beg, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. Not nearly as effective as Johnny’s but they’ll have to do.
“No.” Even in your drunken state you notice the corner of his mouth quirk up before he forces it back down.
“You can’t stand over here all night!”
“Watch me.” Simon huffs.
You pout and let your fingers drift over his forearm, all muscle and so very vascular. His skin is warm under your hands, the ridges of scars dancing across the pads of your fingers - invisible to the eye under his tattoos.
“Well, then, I’ll just have to do what you like to do!” You say with a discerning nod, clambering up onto the stool at the table beside him.
He frowns. “Don’t let me take you away-“
“I don’t wanna leave you alone!” You continue to pout, the cotton in your head only making things fuzzier outside of your new single minded goal: Hang Out with Simon.
He looks you over for a moment, something passing through those dark eyes of his. They’re so mysterious - so deep. Like the Mariana Trench. That’s the really big one, right?
Simon sighs and downs the last of whatever golden drink was in his glass, setting it on the table beside you. “Fine. I’ll give you one song.”
You’re practically preening as you pull him into the crowd, hand firmly around his thick wrist. Part of you briefly acknowledges a few jabs from Johnny and Kyle as you pass them on their way toward the bar.
A squeak escapes you as Simon suddenly turns you around, pulling you close and leading you to the beat. He’s good. Weirdly good. You feel a bit like a floundering fish all of a sudden. It definitely doesn’t help that you’re a lot more drunk than you felt five minutes ago. He smells like spice, too.
“So much for can’t dance!” You laugh.
“I said I don’t dance, bird. Nothin’ about can’t.” An arm loops around your waist, suddenly twisting to dip you low - holding your weight so easily. You fall into a giggling fit, face hot as you playfully push at his chest.
As the night goes on, things get fuzzier. Blurred. There’s one last shot with Johnny and Kyle and all you know is an overwhelming sense of joy.
A/N: Don’t love love this part but it’s cute and this is supposed to be my easy to write fic so I’m not stressing about it. Suuuuper excited for the next couple parts tho🤭
#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#tf 141 x reader#141 x reader#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#captain price x reader#price x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#john soap mctavish#johnny soap mctavish x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#soap x reader#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick#fem reader#plus size reader#fat reader
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price….. in a.. a.. cowboy hat
girl... you have no idea what you have done to me with this ask. Cowboy Price!?? I had so much fun with this, I might even do a part 2! I'm sorry this took me so long - I really hope you like it!!! ♡
18+ mdni - cw: chasing, spanking - 3.2k words
John Price owns the ranch that neighbours your father's. You've got a habit of climbing the fence between them, snooping around Mr Price's property and leaving traces of your misbehaviour behind. This time, he catches you.
Here’s part 2!
Daddy had warned you about wandering onto Mr Price’s property. The lichen-coated fence that separated his land and your father’s spanned miles; carving through tall dry grass, through woods of oak and pine trees, over a bumbling shallow creek. It was easy enough to climb over, but there was one little gap in the barrier, where the splintering planks had fallen from their fastenings. Tucked under a towering cottonwood tree, hidden by the grass, it was easy to wander through as if it were more of your own land on the other side.
Mr Price was a reticent man. An arguably shadowy figure, who you might occasionally see on horseback up on the hilltops of his ranch, tan cattleman hat bowed as he surveyed his acreage. You had met him, once or twice, as a girl. Then, he was in his early twenties, tall and aloof. Eldest of three sons, all three of whom had enlisted and served, sent to fight a war whose nature you were oblivious to in your innocence. He had been absent for years, and once his father was taken by whatever cancer he chose not to treat, John was the only one of the three to return.
His father you had known, vaguely, only as a man that your father despised with an unwavering passion. Some daft rivalry, dating back long before you were born. Whatever enmity existed between old men had not quite been passed on to the last remaining son, it seemed – where there might have been out-and-out conflict, existed only cold disinterest.
Thus explained your intrigue. You found yourself strangely captivated by him, in a nosy sort of way, once he had finally come home. Suddenly bearded and jaded, no longer the bright-faced young man you had distantly remembered, he had picked up where his father had left off. He lived alone, as far as you were aware, in his inherited six-bedroom farmhouse, atop a five-thousand-acre piece of natural splendour. Don’t bother the man, daddy would tell you, he’s not our friend.
But you had always been at the mercy of your impish curiosity. You couldn’t help it. It was an impulse, a compulsion, to stick your fingers where they didn’t belong. You would habitually explore his acres when you came home from college. You’d peek into his empty old shacks, pet his mooing cattle, pick handfuls of wildflowers from his unkempt fields.
Sometimes you’d sneak into his stables. You’d coo at his horses, stroke their velvet snouts, feed them the flowers you had plucked with a smile. They had grown to like you, his sweet horses, you wished you could know their names. They probably liked you more than him, no doubt, the mysterious little neighbour that would sneak in at dusk and feed them treats.
But your most regular habit – one that had gotten you into trouble before – was your proclivity for picking bunches of glossy red cherries from his rows of fruiting cherry trees. The orchard was under-loved and weedy, but those glimmering little baubles of ruby were just too delightful to let fall to the grass and rot.
He had caught you, once, while your arms were stretched far above you, reaching among the droopy branches and floppy leaves to pick the brightest sun-ripened cherries. You had heard him yelling;
“Hey! I see you in there, missy!”
Lips stained red, slick with sweet juice, you gave him a puckish grin before you ran off like a rabbit and hopped back over the fence.
“There’ll be trouble next time I catch you over here, little lady,” he had roared after you, watching you clamber over the oaken planks, “You hear me?”
It didn’t stop you, of course, whatever threat he threw at you. If anything, it emboldened you. Now you meandered down the rows of cherry trees like they belonged to you, picking the prettiest ones, popping them behind your teeth and meticulously nibbling the flesh from the pit, spitting them into the grass as you moved onto the next.
You left a trail wherever you ventured. Little wet pits and green tooth-pick stalks in piles around the place; in stables, along pathways, among the cows. Sometimes you’d leave juicy red fingerprints on doorframes, on the planks of the fence, on horse snouts – perfectly incriminating.
Today was no different. You wandered in scuffing sandals along an old dirt road, green sprigs of grass almost covering it entirely. Some old route that settlers may have followed state to state, spotted occasionally with two-hundred-year-old milestones, ignored just enough to have been spared from crumbling to dust.
Shaded by a cottonwood, humming to yourself, you created a little tipi with your cherry stalks on the flat top of a mile marker. Balanced them carefully as you licked the fruity flesh from your teeth. And when a gentle breeze blew it over, scattering your creation, you leaned over the stone to pick them from the dry gravel around its base.
One, two, three, four…
At the familiar rumble of a truck trundling over dirt, you straighten your spine, palms resting on the edge of the milestone as you look over your shoulder. A dusty Chevy square-body had already coasted to a stop behind you, red paint faded and matte after a decade or two of proper use and neglect.
There he was, the enigmatic man, hanging his elbow out of the open window. Mr Price squinted through the glare of the afternoon sun, crow’s-feet pinching, eyes barely shaded by the cattleman he wore even inside his truck. Your throat bobbed with a swallow as you caught his eye; the flitter of adrenaline buzzed in your chest, toeing the line between nerves and excitement.
With a disapproving suck of his teeth, he grumbled at you, “What’d I tell you about catching you back here?”
Plucking the short skirt of your cotton dress downward, to cover where it had ridden up, you spun around to face him demurely.
“You said there’d be trouble,” you answered with a simper, shyly scratching the back of one hand with the fingernails of the other.
“Mhm,” he grunted in agreement, tapping the metal door with his palm. He flicked his head in gesture for you to make your way around to the passenger side. “Get in.”
A crease pulled between your brows as you frowned at him. “What for?”
“I’m takin’ you back to your daddy,” he barked, irate and impatient, “I’ve got some words for him, too.”
You absently kicked the rocky dirt with the heel of your sandal, pouting at him. “What words would those be?”
With a snort, he rocked his head to peer out of his windshield, then back to you. “To keep a fuckin’ handle on his daughter.”
“Don’t think there’s anything you could tell him that he hasn’t already tried,” you mumbled, attempting to subtly flick the handful of cherry stalks you had collected to the ground.
He chuckled at that, breathy and hoarse, a hint of frustration in his throat. “I believe that,” he scoffed, “c’mon. In. Don’t make me ask again.”
You chewed on your lip, squinting in challenge as you stood up straight. “Or what?”
Glowering at you for a moment, his nostrils flared in frustration, as he seemed to swallow what must have been an inappropriate retort. Instead, his arm retracted through his window, and following the thud of the handle he swung open the door with his forearm.
With a hop he landed in the dirt, dust rising from under his well-worn leather boots. You hadn’t seen him up close in as long as you could remember, and Christ, how he towered over you. It may well have been the looming shadow of his sizzling anger that made him seem so daunting, so delightfully thrilling. You felt the shiver of gooseflesh tingle down the nape of your neck as you tilted your head to look up at him, sheepishly watching his steady approach.
“You’ll be in more trouble than I will if you lay a hand on me,” you spat, with a faint curl in your lips, almost daring.
He gazed down the bridge of his nose at you, wearing a snide and thin smirk, curled under his dense beard. But as his gaze raked you up and down, his sneer shifted quickly into a pout of disapproval, eyes caught on your chest.
“Care to explain this?” He queried severely, wide hand reaching for you; you leaned back further against the milestone behind you as if it might evade him. With his fingers he pinched the cream linen of your blouse, and for a moment you feared he was peering down the gap - brazenly inspecting your bare breasts underneath.
But, no, he instead curled the fabric between his fingers to show you the bright red stain dribbled down the front of your dress.
Oops. Your gut reaction was to giggle, yet unsure whether to admit guilt or feign ignorance.
As you parted your lips to speak, his judging hand suddenly moved to your face; a hold of your chin with a thumb and hooked finger. Piercing glare glued to your lips, his eyes sunk into a defeated ire, shadowed under the brim of his cattleman.
Your tongue writhed behind your teeth, heart thumping in your throat; as he tilted your head up and to the side. He used his other thumb to wipe your bottom lip, pointedly slowly, from the corner to the centre.
“You’re a little thief,” he gritted, dropping your head and peering at the red smear of juice on the pad of his thumb. “Aren’t you.”
Were you scared of him? It was hard to distinguish your fluttering heartrate between terror and thrill – perhaps a touch of both. Because you didn’t know him. You couldn’t trust him. You had no basis to assume he wouldn’t club you with a closed fist and throw you in the back of his pickup. But you felt the tingle his touch left behind on your lip. You got stuck on his pinched blue eyes, the glare of the sun reflecting off your dress illuminating them like they glowed from within.
“No I’m not,” you muttered, readjusting your dress after he left creases in the low neckline.
“And a liar?” He scoffed, as he grabbed one of your wrists – lifting your hand to reveal the sticky burgundy juice under your fingernails, red drips dried in your palm. “You’re covered in evidence, missy.”
Snatching your hand from him, you crossed your arms in petulance. “It’s not stealing if you don’t use it.”
“The fuck it isn’t,” he snapped, hooking his hands onto his hips. “Now get in the goddamn truck.”
“I can walk home,” you grumbled, “you’re not the boss of me.”
Huffing in anger, he leaned forward – looming over you with a domineering lour. “While you’re trespassing on my property – yes I am.”
Glaring up at him from under your brow, you nibble at the inside of your lip as you pouted at him. “What’re you gonna do if I don’t go with you. Kidnap me?”
He tilted his head, shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got some rope in the truck,” he gruffly warned, “you gonna make me use it?”
Did you imagine the glint in his eye? Did you make up the lascivious quip in his tone? Whether or not it was dreamt, it plucked a coy smirk in your lips.
He was daring you, wasn’t he? Goading you to challenge him.
So with a glistening smile you reached for his cattleman hat – plucked it from his head, and swiftly placed it on your own. Too big to sit properly, you perched it on the back of your head so that you could still see out from under the brim.
“Hey!” He barked, lunging to snatch it back from you – but you bolted, kicking off your sandals, ducking under his arm and sprinting across the dirt road. Through the field of grass and dry wildflowers, you bounded like a deer. “Fuck’s sake.”
Holding his hat in place, you peeked over your shoulder in your escape, and he was swiftly in pursuit.
“God dammit, girl, you get back here!” He roared – already closing the distance. You hadn’t expected a man as bulky as him to sprint as fast as he was, charging after you like a grizzly.
You only giggled, leaping over fallen logs and stray planks of wood, weaving between the tall white oaks that littered his prairies.
“If you get so much as a dent in that hat I’ll fuckin’–”
“You’ll what?” You squealed through a grin, holding the skirt of your short dress in a fist against your hips, to allow your legs to sprint in full stride.
You heard him grunt, close to a growl, as he encroached on you. “You’ll be in big fuckin’ trouble!”
Breathless, panting, you failed to think of any witty response as you dashed towards one of the many stables on his expansive property – this one devoid of horses or livestock, simply a storage building for stacks of haybales and racks of tools. You’d perused it before. He might have found more discarded cherry pits in there.
He was behind you already, as you barrelled through the ajar stable door, stumbling into the centre of the dishevelled space. Illuminated only by the cracks of glowing sunlight that broke through gaps in the plywood boards, you stood amongst dust and scattered hay. You turned and faced the entrance, watching in anticipation as he steamed in after you.
Face burning red in fury and exasperation, he jabbed two angry fingers in your direction. “Give me the hat,” he ordered, throaty and severely – no longer joking.
But stubborn as you were, overly enjoying the needless chase, you were not going to capitulate that easily. You stood poised to dash, and with hunched shoulders, he prepared to hound after you.
“I like it,” you puffed, exhilarated, purposefully impudent. You pinched the brim, pulling it down with a disingenuous hat-tip. “It probably looks better on me.”
“Even if it does,” he chided through teeth, out of breath, “it’s not yours.”
You snickered girlishly, pursing your lips. “Maybe it should be.”
“Give it to me.” He thundered, hand outstretched, your heart flipped in your ribs at the sudden eruption of stern rage.
So you spun on the ball of your bare foot, before flitting hastily towards the rickety ladder that led up to the hayloft. Clambering up it like a spider, the old wood and rusted nails squealed in dispute of being used for likely the first time in decades.
But he was blindingly rapid in his chase, and before you made it even halfway up the ladder, his heaving forearm scooped around your waist, hooking you by the stomach.
“C’mere,” he growled through a clenched jaw, as he peeled you from the ladder; hoisting you like a small animal, holding your back to his chest with a constricting arm, leaving your feet dangling high off the ground.
You writhed and kicked, bucking like a goat, still holding his hat tightly to your head to prevent him from snatching it back from you. “Let go of me!” You squeaked, still giggling.
“No,” he snarled, “I’m taking my fuckin’ hat back, and then I’m taking you back to your daddy so he can knock some goddamn sense into you.”
You whinged, clutching his thick forearm in an effort to loosen his grip; nails digging into his bronzed and hairy skin, corded with veins bulged from the exertion of keeping you contained. His body burned like a furnace, pectorals stiffening underneath you as he flexed them, while he hauled you towards the exit.
“It’s just a hat,” you whined, “you’ve probably got heaps of them.”
Your obstinance was aimless – no particular interest in the hat, and no true understanding of why you fought so desperately to keep it. Maybe you just wanted to see how far you could push him. Wanted to see what would happen.
“It was my father’s,” he griped, anger approaching a boiling point as you continued to squirm around in his grip.
You groaned in dispute, still holding the leather cattleman tightly to your head. “Well he won’t be needing it, will he?”
That was a step over the line.
You knew it immediately, quick to bite your tongue after the words spat from your lips.
And his retaliation was sudden and severe; dragging you closer to the exit, he tossed you unceremoniously, almost tumbling down with you into the pile of block-shaped haybales that sat by the stable door. You landed face-down against the bale, winded, a squeak jumping from your chest with the impact; and his hat toppled from your head, rolling out of reach.
He kneeled beside you, with his forearm weighing against your lower back - you were flustered and confused by his haste. Skirt hitched up by the fall, he suddenly swung his free hand down with an open palm, smacking against the bare skin of your ass with a thunderous whack.
“Ah!” You squealed, a shriek, followed quickly by a breathless whine that slipped from your lungs outside of your control. The explosive clap rang in your ears, echoing within the bowels of the stables, loud and shrill. And the sting was sharp, hot and prickling like a brand, no doubt the raised outline of his hand was quick to form in your shivering skin.
A silence followed, pregnant and heavy, and you dared not move nor breathe too loudly – you inhaled and exhaled with trembling breaths, lips parted and wet, eyes wide as you stared into the packed hay.
He was dead quiet, too. Panting throatily, he kept you in place; grip of you not easing, though he stayed utterly still. You thought he might apologise, might express some remorse, might beg for you not to tell your father what he did. But he was silent. Like he had even surprised himself.
You tilted your head slowly, peering at him doe-eyed over your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whimpered, close to a whisper, dripping with pleading humiliation.
“For what?” He growled; his glower potently intimidating, a glimmer of voracity in his shadowy eyes, strained like he was suppressing greater hunger.
With a whine you turned your head back, facing ahead into the shack wall, you spoke quietly and nervously. “For taking your hat.”
Followed another swing of his arm, wide hand colliding with your rear in another deafening crack, forcing a laboured squeak from your chest. But there was something more than pain in your throat, wasn’t there? A whisper of thrill, a yelp of delight in your subsequent gasp.
And he must have heard it, took it as encouragement; as you felt the hand of his arm that pinned you down curl into a fist, balling the fabric of your dress tightly in his palm – lifting up the hem even further, you felt the cool air of the stable bite at your stinging skin as your ass was entirely exposed.
“Yeah?” He rumbled, gritting teeth, huffing like a beast. “What else?”
#bet his handprint is the size of a dinner plate#john price#call of duty fanfic#john price x reader#john price x female reader#captain john price#cod fanfic#john price x you#captain price#captain price x reader#captain price smut
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A Helping Hand
Pairing: Nanami x f!reader
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~1.3k
cw: next-door neighbor Nanami, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, cream pie, sex without a condom, mention of sex toys, use of pet names (sweetheart), just horny things lol
Summary: You’re so completely insatiable that you’re going a tad bit insane. You enlist the aid of your next-door neighbor Nanami, who you know is more than willing to help.
Author’s Note: idk, just feeling a little feral for him, that’s all. this is a silly one, sorry. MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.
part 2 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series
You stare wide-eyed up at the ceiling of your bedroom, legs apart, the blankets shrugged off to the side. You’re naked from the waist-down, panties tossed to the floor with your vibrator hanging loosely in your grip. You’ve been going at it for nearly half an hour now, trying to chase a high that you just can’t seem to reach on your own. Sure, you’re doing fine. That’s just it, though. It’s just fine. Nothing spectacular, nothing mind-blowing. Tonight, you’re desperate to be filled, aching to be stuffed. Stimulation on your clit alone isn’t enough to satiate your appetite.
You. Need. Cock.
And you think you know exactly where to find it.
Nanami is your next-door neighbor. He’s quiet, even a bit shy at times. You’ve always found him attractive. Aside from his obvious good looks, he’s been kind to you since you met him when you moved in months ago. You’ve shared several meals together after you gave him fresh herbs and cherry tomatoes from your garden. That seemed to break the ice between you. Nothing more has ever happened, though there’s a palpable tension that surrounds you whenever you’re together, almost like you’re both willing to cross the line from neighbors to lovers, but too scared to do so. Subtle glances, lingering touches, suggestive comments.
If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.
Whatever you need, I’ll be here.
I’m here for you if you need me.
Tonight, you’re in heat, daring to march right into his apartment and ask him for a huge favor. This might go horribly wrong, and maybe you’ll end up moving out from sheer embarrassment, but you know what? The fantasy of taking his big cock deep in your pussy is enough to convince you that it’s worth a shot.
You wrap yourself in a robe, not bothering to put on any underwear, still wet from your previous orgasms. With three gentle knocks on his door, your heart starts to race, your instincts willing you to walk right back into your apartment and forget about this ridiculous idea. It’s too late, however. He answers, surprised to see you. You greet him with a weak smile, suddenly shy in his presence. “Hello, Nanami. Sorry to bother you.”
“You’re not,” he replies, stepping aside to let you in. “Are you alright?”
He shuts the door closed and you don’t have the nerve to look him in the eye. You were so confident just moments ago, and now look at you. Trembling and flustered. You cross your arms over your chest, unsure what to say.
You feel him right behind you now, his body heat radiating towards you, close enough that if either of you moved even the slightest bit, you’d be touching. His breath is warm on your ear. “Are you alright?” he repeats, genuine concern in his voice. He’s always been so sweet to you. So nice. So helpful. Maybe he’d be okay with doing this for you, just this once.
You turn to face him, cheeks hot, saliva gathering in your mouth. Swallowing thickly, you ask, “Can you help me?” It almost comes out as a whimper, a whine. So needy and so desperate for his touch.
His eyes drop to your waist, focused on the loose knot holding your robe together. His fingers tug gently at it, pulling it apart, revealing your half-naked body to him. You gasp softly, surprised and aroused by his sudden action. “Finally,” is all he mutters before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. He’s hungry and greedy, just like you are, tongue pushing against yours, eager for a taste of you. You moan into his mouth, pawing at his chest, bunching his shirt between your fists. He leads you to the couch, sitting down and hoisting you onto his lap, sliding the robe off your body along with the rest of your clothes. You’re completely bare for him now, spread out on his lap. He looks down between you, watching your arousal seep into his grey sweatpants.
“So wet,” he groans. “How many times did you come tonight?” He grabs your chin, pulling you in to kiss you fiercely.
“Three,” you answer, licking at his lips.
He smiles against you, fingers trailing your body until they’re pressed to your puffy clit. “That sounds about right. I heard you through the walls, fucking yourself silly.”
“You did?” you huff, grinding on his palm, yearning for friction.
He nods. “Oh yes. I heard every filthy moan from this pretty mouth of yours. Been waiting for you to finally give in and ask me for help.” He strokes your clit between his fingers, teasing your entrance to collect your cum, smearing it on your bud.
“Oh fuck,” you whine, rocking your hips against him. It feels so fucking good, but it’s still not enough.
He knows exactly what you need. With his free hand, he shoves his pants down his legs, releasing his hard cock. You marvel at how pretty it is in his fist, stroking it and tapping it on your clit. You lift yourself off his lap to sink down onto his length, moaning wantonly until he’s all the way inside. Staying still, he kisses you sloppily, squeezing your ass in both his hands.
“This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart?” He drags your bottom lip between his teeth, nuzzling his nose to yours. “You wanted this cock, and now you have it. Show me how badly you need it.” He leans back against the couch, resting his palms behind his head, watching you like a spectator. “Ride me until I fill you up.”
Too horny to protest (and why would you anyways?), you obey, stroking his cock at a slow pace until you can adjust to his massive size. Once it becomes a fluid motion, you speed up, slapping your ass against his thighs. He’s deep in your womb now, so deep you feel it in your stomach. This is precisely the high you’ve been chasing all night, and it only makes it sweeter knowing it’s with him. Your handsome, nice, and clearly well-endowed neighbor, Nanami Kento.
He's can’t stand not touching you any longer. His hands return to your waist, bouncing you on his lap like a rag doll, yielding to his every thrust. “You needed my cock today, huh? Needed my dick to pound this tight pussy of yours. Your stupid little toys weren’t enough, were they?”
You shake your head erratically, so close now. “Need you, Kento. Needed this fat cock inside me.”
He growls at the sound of his name from your mouth. “Fuck, I needed this too. Been needing it for a while now.” He latches his lips around your nipples, sucking on them until they’re plump between his lips. His thumb caresses your sensitive clit, massaging gentle circles around it. Suddenly, everything is too much. You’re gushing for him, coating his cock in your cream, all messy and obscene. Soon, he comes too, stuffing you full of his seed. Just when you think it’s over, he pulls out to lay you flat on the couch, spreading your legs wide, a naughty grin on his face before he dives in, lapping at your combined arousal.
You wake up with Nanami’s name spilling out of your mouth. Disoriented, you look around, finding yourself back in your own bed, alone. It was all a dream. A fucking dream (literally). Disappointed and still horny, you sigh, heading to the bathroom to clean yourself up, calling it quits for the night.
To your surprise, there’s a knock on your door. When you go to answer it, Nanami stands before you, an obvious blush on his face and an even bigger bulge in his grey sweatpants. He steps towards you, a shy smile on his face. “I heard you calling my name. Sounds like you could use a helping hand.”
#nanami kento#nanami x reader#nanami smut#nanami x you#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x you#kento nanami#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#kento nanami smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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I know it's a little late but this Father's Day, I'm thinking about childhood best friend Simon who's secretly in love with you.
You've known Simon since forever – long before the emergence of “Ghost”, his enlistment in the military, or, hell, even before his voice dropped three octaves. To you, Simon Riley was your best friend, the one person in life you could always count on to be there for you. And to Simon, the feeling was mutual, but his feelings towards you also extended well beyond that sentiment, far surpassing what you ever realized.
From an early age, Simon knew you were the love of his life, but he could never bring himself to admit that to you. He was always too shy, too self-conscious, too scared to fuck up everything you two had if he told you the truth. So instead, he kept his love for you a secret, and just focused on being the best friend any girl could ask for.
For a while, it was nice simply being your friend, and Simon played the part with ease. But once you entered the dating scene, everything seemed to change. Now, not only did Simon have to hide his feelings for you, he was forced to sit back and watch as you gave your love to another. Though it tore him up inside to witness, Simon still chose to stick by you anyway. He was your friend first and foremost, and so your friend he'd continue to be.
Through every new relationship, every whirlwind romance, and every eventual heartbreak you endured, Simon was always right there beside you, lending himself over in whatever manner you needed. Even as one came along that you swore was different from the others, Simon was skeptical, but he supported you regardless. And now, nearly five years into your marriage, he supposes you were right after all.
So color Simon surprised when you wind up beside him on his couch one night, crying your eyes out, trying to drown your sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. You explain how, for almost a year, you and your husband have been trying for a baby, to no success. You've done everything; ovulation tracking, fertility tests, a revolving door of doctors to try finding out what the issue is. By all accounts, there doesn't appear to be any physical concerns preventing you from conceiving. As for your husband, well, he hasn't been as diligent in determining his role in this.
You're now at a point in your life where you feel like time is working against you. You want nothing more than to have a baby of your own, and if you and your husband aren't capable of doing that, you're not sure what there is that's left for you.
As you sob into the crook of Simon's neck, he finds his neurons begin firing at an alarming rate. Quicker than he'd like, an idea takes root in his mind, and though it's bad – fucking heinous is what it is – it burrows itself into his grey matter until it's all he can focus on. While he hates himself for thinking of it (hates himself more for the way his stomach flips at the thought), there's nothing that hurts him more right now than having you in his arms so utterly distraught.
So before he can convince himself of another idea, Simon raises your head from his shoulder and tenderly cups your face between his palms. When he leans in to kiss you, a moment he's dreamed about for years, he's not surprised as you startle against him. But he holds steady, melding his lips to yours, until he feels you gradually melt into it. As he hushes the voices in his head, he plucks up his last bit of courage, and finds no resistance as he slowly guides you onto your back.
It's alright, sweetheart. He's here for you. He's going to help you out.
He'll give you the baby you so desperately desire, because that's what best friends are for, right?
#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost mw2#simon riley x you#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2#female reader
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BUZZCUT. | ── [ j.jh ]
── ⭒ staring .ᐟ ౨ৎ jaehyun x afab!reader
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ₊ ˙ ✃ ⋆ † ⠀๋⠀₊ -
SUMMARY: ── in a bittersweet farewell, the night before your close childhood friend jaehyun leaves for military service you both take a walk along the han river as well as navigate your complicated feelings for each other.
GENRE: friends to lovers, SMUT (18+, mdni), angst, fluff, idol!jaehyun CW/TAGS: dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv sex, spanking, hair pulling, reader is refered to as a girl, praising, bigdick!jaehyun WORDS | 6.8k A/N | this is in honor of jaehyun's enlistment - enjoy !!
゛ ♡ ₊ 𓈒 ◌
── the night is cool against your skin, a gentle breeze wrapping around you as you walk down the narrow streets, winding your way toward the river. your steps are deliberate, even though your heart thunders against your chest. you’re thinking too much, and you know it, letting each thought flicker and fold over the last like waves, endless and unknowable, churning somewhere deep inside you.
it’s been a long time, you think. a long time since you first saw him, all easy smiles and casual charm. a long time since you first felt that jolt of something you didn’t yet have a name for but that, in hindsight, you recognize as love. you’ve never told him, not once—not in all these years of close calls and almosts, of lingering touches and moments that you always held on to longer than you should have.
you inhale deeply, trying to slow the pace of your thoughts, but each step closer only winds you tighter. the han river glimmers faintly in the distance, a line of silver beneath the night sky. and there, by the water’s edge, is jaehyun. he’s leaning against the railing, looking out at the river, his face partially shadowed but somehow softer, framed by the quiet of the night. the sight of him, so familiar yet distant, almost pulls you to a stop.
there’s something about him tonight—a weight you hadn’t noticed before. it’s as if he, too, is looking to hold on to everything here, everything he’s about to leave behind. and yet, he doesn’t turn to look at you until you’re almost right next to him, his gaze steady as he catches your eye.
“you made it,” he says, that soft, reassuring warmth in his voice. his smile, though, is smaller than usual, like there’s something unsaid between you both, lingering just below the surface.
“i made it,” you answer, and you try to keep your tone light, but it comes out quiet, touched by an edge you didn’t mean to reveal. you’ve imagined this moment—this last chance to see him—over and over in your head, each version of it different. and yet, standing here now, everything you thought you might say seems to slip through your fingers.
he watches you carefully, that subtle intensity in his gaze, as if he’s trying to memorize the way you look, standing there in the glow of the distant city lights.
he clears his throat, breaking the silence as you both start walking along the path that follows the river's edge. “how’ve you been?” he asks, giving you a sidelong glance. it’s a simple question, and yet the softness of his tone makes it feel like he’s asking for something more, like he’s trying to make up for all the times he’s missed out on in the last few months.
you smile, shrugging lightly. “same old, same old. work, school—nothing too exciting. but you, mr. idol, you’ve been busy.” jaehyun chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he brushes his hair back with one hand. “yeah, i guess that’s one way to put it.” he looks down at his shoes for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “we were doing concerts. that’s why i’ve been, you know… hard to reach.”
you nod, already knowing. his life has been moving at a different pace—one that has taken him across oceans, into arenas filled with fans chanting his name. it’s a reality you’ve grown used to, but still, there’s a tiny ache whenever you remember how separate his world can sometimes feel from yours. but tonight, it’s as if none of that matters. tonight, he’s here, and there’s only the two of you.
“still can’t believe that’s real,” you say, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “remember when you wouldn’t even sing in front of me?”
jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “i was terrible back then. don’t lie to me.”
“no, i’m serious!” you grin, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “all those late nights, trying to get you to sing while we were ‘studying’ for exams. it was tragic—”
“oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad,” he interrupts, nudging you back with a smile that’s both embarrassed and pleased. “you’re making me sound hopeless.”
“hopeless? maybe a little,” you tease, watching his face light up in a way that feels achingly familiar, like something you want to freeze in time. “but i guess you’ve come a long way, huh?”
he nods, a soft hum in his voice. “feels like forever ago, though. remember the first time we stayed out all night? trying to find that coffee shop you swore was ‘just around the corner’?”
you laugh, covering your mouth at the memory. “and we got so lost! i was ready to give up, but you…” you trail off, looking at him with that same warmth, thinking of the way he had insisted on keeping on, even when you both had practically wandered into the outskirts of the city.
“i wasn’t about to let you down,” he finishes, a hint of pride in his voice.
the two of you continue walking, memories spilling out as naturally as the river flowing beside you. nights spent at convenience stores with cheap ramyeon and cola; that one time he convinced you to go to karaoke and made up for years of not singing; all the secrets you whispered between laughter and yawns, half-asleep in the early morning light.
and yet, despite the familiarity, tonight is different. the laughter dies down quicker, and each memory feels like a bittersweet treasure, something you’re both afraid to hold too tightly for fear it will slip away. you’re acutely aware of every step, every glance, every brush of his shoulder against yours. it’s all slipping through your fingers, each second a reminder that you’re both on the brink of a sort-of goodbye.
the quiet stretches out between you as you walk, and though his hand rests loosely in his pocket, jaehyun’s other hand rises to press his fingertips to his mouth, lost in thought. his gaze wanders out over the river, his usual warmth dimming, replaced by something heavier. it lingers in the air around him, that tension, that uncertainty—like the night itself is waiting to exhale.
“honestly… i don’t know what to expect.” his voice is lower now, almost a whisper that the wind could easily snatch away. “everyone says you just get through it. that it’s over before you know it. but…” he trails off, his words floating into the dark like something fragile and fleeting. “it’s strange, thinking that life just… pauses. for two years.”
you walk a few more paces, silent, each step a reminder of time slipping by too fast. you look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hold onto the image: the faint furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw, that expression he wears when he’s trying to seem brave but doesn’t quite manage it. and your own heart twists at the sight of him—of jaehyun, here with you, with all the things you’ve never said pressing against your chest. but you push it down, that ache, until it’s tucked somewhere deep inside you. instead, you reach out, letting your hand rest on his arm, feeling the warmth of him under your fingertips.
“you’ll be okay yuno,” you say quietly, feeling the words reverberate through you, anchoring you to this moment. “you’ve always found a way to be.”
he looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s seeing something for the first time. there’s a hint of disbelief in his eyes, almost as if he wants to question what you’ve just said, even using his real name - to pick it apart. but he doesn’t. he just nods, a faint, grateful smile tracing his lips.
“sometimes i think you believe in me more than i do,” he murmurs. “like you’ve always known something i haven’t.”
you want to say something to that, to answer, to reach through all these walls of silence that have built up between you over the years, but you don’t. instead, you only look back at him, holding your smile steady, letting the quiet carry all the things you can’t say.
after a moment, you find a bench tucked away at the edge of the path, overlooking the river’s glimmering surface. the world around you fades into the background, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in this fragile stillness. as you sit, jaehyun turns toward you, his fingers brushing against yours before he takes your hand fully, squeezing it gently.
“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he admits, his voice steady but low, a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath the surface.
your heart races at the contact, warmth spreading through you like a soft glow. you’re on the verge of confessing everything—the weight of your feelings that you’ve kept hidden, the love that has thrived in the silence between you. but you hold back, unwilling to add any more emotional weight to a goodbye that’s already too heavy. instead, you meet his gaze, trying to capture this moment, every detail of him etched in your mind—his soft features, the way his eyes reflect the shimmering river, the gentle press of his hand against yours.
jaehyun clears his throat, breaking the quiet between you. “it’s getting cold,” he says, his voice soft, almost reluctant. “i’ll walk you home.”
you nod, and without another word, you both stand, falling into step beside each other. the silence between you now is thick, layered with the things neither of you have said, and each step you take feels heavier, like the night itself is pressing down, reminding you that this is the last time—for a good while—that you’ll have him beside you like this.
the streets are emptier now, just the distant glow of streetlights casting long shadows as you walk side by side. you can feel the tension building, each step drawing you closer to the inevitable. your hand brushes his once, and though neither of you speaks, there’s a quiet comfort in that brief, familiar contact. when you finally reach your apartment, you stop, and jaehyun does too. he stands there, looking at you with an expression you can’t quite read—something mingling with the sadness in his eyes, a softness, a question, maybe. and he hesitates, his hand hovering just beside yours as if he wants to reach for you, as if he’s searching for something in your face that he’s not sure he’ll find.
jaehyun’s gaze flickers, lingering on you as if he’s committing every detail to memory. he rubs the back of his neck, breaking eye contact for a second before looking back at you.
“so…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of all the unspoken words between you. “guess this is it, huh?” you force a smile, nodding even though it feels like your chest is tightening. “yeah. tomorrow.”
he bites his lip, his eyes searching yours, like he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to make this moment last longer. “it’s just… i don’t know. doesn’t feel real yet.”
you swallow, the words caught in your throat. “it doesn’t,” you reply softly, your voice barely steady. “we’ll still call and text all the time…and if you want we can hang out every other weekend or something.”
jaehyun’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, sad smile. “you’ve been there for everything,” he says, his voice quiet, almost as if he’s admitting a secret. “since we were kids. it’s hard to think of… going through something without you around.”
your heart races at his words, and you force yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct tells you to look away, to hide what you’re feeling. “i’ll still be here,” you say, and the promise feels fragile, yet unbreakable, hanging in the space between you.
he lets out a small breath, his hand lifting as if on instinct, brushing your cheek, his fingers barely grazing your skin. “i know you will.” his voice catches, and for a moment, you see something raw in his eyes—a tenderness that feels almost too much to bear.
you stand there, suspended in the silence that follows, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space between you. and before you can second-guess yourself, before you can think of all the reasons not to, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. his hand slips around to the back of your neck, gentle but firm, as if grounding you both in this moment, and he kisses you back, slow and unhurried, like he, too, is trying to capture everything he feels in this one breath, this one touch. the kiss starts softly, a gentle brush of lips that feels almost tentative, as if you’re both testing the waters of this new territory. but as the world around you fades, that initial hesitation melts away. the warmth of his hand cradling your neck sends a shiver down your spine, igniting something deep within you that has long been simmering beneath the surface.
jaehyun's lips are sweet, tinged with the warmth of honey and a hint of smoky undertones from the cigarette he smoked earlier. his lips move against yours with increasing urgency, a mix of longing and a bittersweet awareness that time is slipping away. you lean into him, feeling the solid weight of him against you, and it’s as if every memory, every unspoken word, pours into that moment—every shared glance, every moment of laughter—colliding in time.
jaehyun deepens the kiss, tilting his head slightly, and you feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, igniting a fire that spreads through you. it’s a heady mix of sweetness and heat, and you find yourself responding instinctively, matching his intensity, losing yourself in the sensation of him.
your heart races as you feel his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as if he fears letting go. the world around you blurs, the distant sounds of the city fading into a dull hum, leaving only the two of you, caught in this fragile moment that feels both infinite and fleeting.
breathless, you pull away just enough to rest your forehead against his, the warmth of his skin lingering. your eyes meet, and in that charged silence, a shared understanding pulses between you—fragile yet undeniable. with a shaky breath, you fumble for your keys, the metal cool against your palm as you unlock the door, hands trembling. jaehyun steps in behind you, his presence a comforting weight, solid and unwavering in the dim light.
the moment the door closes, he's there, pulling you close again. his lips find yours in the dim light of your apartment, urgent and needy. you melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he walks you backwards toward the couch. the familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, a heady mix of leather and lillies that makes your head spin. your legs hit the edge of the couch, and jaehyun gently lowers you onto the soft cushions. he follows, his body a comforting weight above you as he settles on top of you.
“god, i’ll miss this,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. then, without another word, he kisses down your neck, his lips trailing warmth that ignites every nerve in your body. you gasp softly, feeling the heat radiate from him, his touch igniting a fire deep within you.
“jaehyun…” you breathe, your voice a mixture of longing and urgency. “i wanna remember this.”
his kisses trail back to your lips, deepening as he pours everything he feels into the moment, as if to make sure you both carry it with you, etched into your hearts. “are you sure?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, “that you want this.”
you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i promise," you whisper back, “i’ve thought about this for so long.”
jaehyun’s eyes soften, a blend of tenderness and desire flickering within their depths. he shifts slightly, fingers finding the hem of his shirt, and you hold your breath as he pulls it over his head, revealing the smooth contours of his chest and abs. the dim light from the street outside casts shadows that accentuate every curve, transforming him into a living, breathing sculpture.
without thinking, your hands reach out, tracing the lines of his torso as if drawn by an invisible thread. his skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a tangible warmth that makes your heart race. you marvel at the firmness of his abdomen, the subtle ridges etched from countless hours of dance practice and grueling workouts.
a soft hitch escapes jaehyun’s breath at your touch, his gaze darkening with desire as he watches you explore. hesitantly, you reach for the hem of your sweater. jaehyun's eyes follow your movements as you slowly pull it up and over your head, revealing the delicate lace of your bra underneath. the cool air of the apartment raises goosebumps on your skin.
jaehyun's gaze is reverent as he takes in the sight of you. his fingertips ghost along your collarbone, tracing a feather-light path down to the swell of your breasts. you shiver at his touch.
“is this okay?” he asks softly, his hands hovering at the clasp of your bra, the question hanging in the air like a fragile promise. you nod, unable to find your voice, the weight of his gaze anchoring you as he leans closer, a whisper of breath brushing against your skin.
with gentle fingers, jaehyun unhooks your bra, his touch reverent as he slides the straps down your shoulders. the fabric falls away, revealing your breasts to his gaze. his eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you, vulnerable yet unafraid beneath him.
"so fucking pretty," he murmurs, voice husky with emotion. he lowers his head, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your neck. his lips trail downward, leaving a path of warmth across your collarbone. when he reaches your breast, he pauses, his breath hot against your skin. then his mouth closes around your nipple, drawing a gasp from your lips.
his tongue swirls patterns as he sucks gently, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. one hand cups your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips. one of his hands kneads your other breast as he lavishes attention on the first. the dual sensations make your head spin. jaehyun releases your tit with a soft pop, his eyes meeting yours as he begins to trail kisses down your body. his lips brush against your sternum, then trace a path down the center of your abdomen. each touch is feather-light yet charged, sending shivers cascading through you.
he takes his time, mapping the landscape of your skin with worshipful attention. his tongue dips into the hollow of your navel, eliciting a soft gasp. you feel the curve of his smile against your skin as he continues lower, his teeth lightly scraping your sensitive flesh.
jaehyun's fingers trace along the waistband of your skirt, his touch light as a whisper. he looks up at you, eyes dark with desire but still seeking permission. "can i take this off?" he asks softly, his voice low and loving.
you nod, breath catching in your throat as he slowly unzips your skirt. he slides it down your legs, his hands caressing your thighs as he goes. the cool air raises goosebumps on your newly exposed skin.
jaehyun's gaze travels over you reverently, taking in every curve and dip of your body. his fingers ghost along the lace edge of your panties, barely touching. "you're so beautiful," he murmurs, “let me take care of you baby.”
he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, just above your knee. then another, slightly higher. his lips trail a path of fire up your limbs and when he reaches the edge of your panties, he pauses, looking up at you with dark, desire-filled eyes. "god, you're so wet," he murmurs, his voice low and cursing. "fucking soaked, all for me.."
his fingers trace along the damp lace, barely ghosting over your most sensitive areas. even that faint touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you. you squirm slightly, desperate for more contact and whimper.
"such pretty noises," he purrs. "i wonder how you'll sound when i really touch you."
"please," you whimper, not even caring how needy you sound.
a slow smile spreads across jaehyun's face. "please what?" he asks, his tone commanding. "tell me what you want, baby."
"touch me," you gasp. "please, i need you to touch me."
your breath catches as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. with agonizing slowness, he slides them down your legs, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. the fabric clings to your damp skin as he peels it away, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze.
jaehyun's eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail. his hands caress your thigh, “perfect fucking pussy, better than i ever imagined..” he praises, before his tongue finally makes contact with your folds, you gasp at the sensation. he starts with long, slow licks, savoring your taste as he explores every inch. his hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he works.
jaehyun's tongue swirls around your clit before sucking gently, sending waves of pleasure through you. he alternates between broad strokes and focused attention, building your arousal steadily higher. you thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him where you need him most.
jaehyun holds your trembling thighs firmly apart, his strong hands steady and warm against your skin. his touch is gentle yet insistent, opening you up to his hungry gaze. jaehyun's tongue delves deeper, parting your folds and exploring every sensitive ridge and valley. he hums softly against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your core. his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you as pleasure builds within you.
you feel the heat of his breath against your most intimate places as he works, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your clit. each pass sends sparks of sensation coursing through you. your hips begin to rock involuntarily, seeking more friction.
"such a good girl," jaehyun murmurs against you, his voice low and husky. "i love how you taste."
he slides one finger inside you, curling it upwards as his tongue continues to lavish attention on your clit. the dual sensations make you gasp, your back arching off the couch and you curse.
jaehyun slides one hand up your body to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. the added stimulation heightens every sensation, making you gasp and writhe beneath him. your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as your hips begin to move of their own accord.
you arch your back, grinding against his mouth as the tension mounts. soft whimpers and gasps fall from your lips, growing more desperate as you climb higher. jaehyun redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips as he slides another finger inside you. the dual stimulation has you seeing stars. his fingers curl, finding that perfect spot inside you as his tongue lashes your clit. you cry out, your hips bucking against his face as the first waves of orgasm crash over you. jaehyun doesn’t stop, only slows his efforts as you come down from your high. after you catch your breath, he moves his head from your thighs and moves up over you to kiss you.
jaehyun's lips meet yours in a deep, sensual kiss that is almost like a thank-you from you. you taste yourself on his tongue - tangy and sweet with a hint of musk. as he presses his body closer, you feel the hard length of his cock through his sweatpants, hot and insistent against your thigh. the thin fabric does little to conceal his arousal. the heat of him sears into your skin, igniting a fresh wave of desire low in your belly. your hands roam over the planes of his back, tracing the lean muscles there. his skin is fever-warm, and you pull back from kissing him to look down at the print of him through his pants. you make eye contact, and there’s a question hanging in the air along with the heavy breathing of you both.
you break the beat of silence, “i want to,” you say, giving him the permission that he needed.
jaehyun pulls away slightly, his eyes still locked on yours, the heat of the moment lingering in the air. with a quick, decisive movement, he gets up from the couch, the dim light casting soft shadows over his form.
“condom?” he asks.
“it’s in my bedside table,” you reply, watching him as he nods and strides toward the bedroom.
as he disappears from view, the atmosphere shifts. you stare up at the ceiling, feeling the room spin slightly, an unexpected loneliness settling in without his presence. the faint sounds of the city outside filter in, but they feel distant and hollow compared to the warmth he brought just moments before.
a part of you aches for him, for that connection you’ve both been dancing around for so long. time stretches as you wait, heart pounding in your chest, your thoughts swirling with anticipation and uncertainty.
finally, he returns, the confident smile back on his lips, and in his hand is the small foil wrapper. the moment he steps into the light, the heaviness in the air dissipates, replaced by a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. you sit up as he slips down his sweatpants and boxers.
as jaehyun's sweatpants fall away, your breath catches in your throat. his cock springs free, thick and hard, jutting proudly from a nest of dark curls. your eyes widen, taking in the impressive sight before you. he's long - longer than you expected - and girthy, the shaft curved slightly upward. the head is flushed a deep pink, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. the sight of him, fully aroused and wanting you, sends a fresh wave of heat through your core.
you swallow hard, a mix of desire and nervousness fluttering in your stomach as he gives it a few pumps, wrapping his veiny hands around his length and then slipping the condom on.
you lay back against the arm of the couch, heart pounding as jaehyun moves over you. his eyes are dark with desire as he positions himself between your spread legs. you feel exposed yet safe under his gaze.
jaehyun braces one hand beside your head, using the other to guide his cock to your entrance. the latex-covered tip brushes against your sensitive folds, making you gasp. he runs it up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness. when he reaches your clit, he circles it slowly, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.
jaehyun's eyes lock with yours, his gaze intense and full of longing. the air between you is charged, buzzed with anticipation. he runs the tip of his cock along your folds once more, coating himself in your slick heat.
"god, you're so wet for me," he murmurs, his voice rough. "such a good fucking girl, all ready to take my cock.”
his praise sends a shiver down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. your breath catches in your throat as he begins to push forward, stretching you slowly inch by delicious inch. you gasp at the fullness, your body adjusting to accommodate his impressive girth. he moves with careful control, giving you time to adjust. when he's fully sheathed inside you, he pauses, letting you adjust to his size. his breath is ragged against your neck, his body trembling slightly with the effort of holding still. his breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "that's it, baby," he praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "take me in. you're doing so well."
you whimper softly, rocking your hips to encourage him to move. jaehyun takes the hint, slowly withdrawing before thrusting back in. he sets a steady rhythm, each stroke long and deep.
"fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice low and husky in your ear. "such a perfect little pussy, taking my cock just right."
jaehyun's thrusts become faster and more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with each movement. your bodies move together in a perfect rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.
"yuno," you moan, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as he pounds into you, “feels so good, oh my god.” he leans down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he continues to move inside you.
jaehyun's thrusts grow more powerful, driving deep into your core with each movement. the couch creaks softly beneath you as he picks up the pace. you feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the delicious friction sending waves of pleasure through your body.
his hands grip your hips tightly, angling you to hit that perfect spot inside. you cry out as he brushes against it, sparks of sensation radiating outward. jaehyun groans in response, the sound low and primal.
you can feel the tension building in your lower belly, a coiling heat that threatens to consume you. jaehyun must sense it too, because he redoubles his efforts. his hips snap against yours forcefully, driving into you with renewed vigor.
just as you're teetering on the edge, jaehyun slows his movements, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in torturously slowly. you whimper at the change of pace, your body aching for more. he repeats the motion several times, drawing out each thrust until you're writhing beneath him.
"please," you gasp, "i need more."
jaehyun kisses you deeply before pulling out completely. "turn around for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice insistent. you listen, adjusting your position until you’re on your hands and knees and he’s behind you.
jaehyun's hands grip your hips firmly as he positions himself behind you. you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you. he runs it along your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.
the anticipation builds as he lines himself up, the tip just barely breaching you. before you can respond, jaehyun snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. you cry out at the sudden fullness, your fingers gripping the couch cushions tightly. he gives you only a moment to adjust before pulling back and slamming in again.
jaehyun sets a punishing pace, his hips pistoning against you. the new angle allows him to hit spots deep inside that make you see stars. jaehyun's hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you from behind, his movements growing more frenzied. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your breathless moans and his low grunts.
"god, you feel so fucking good," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "my perfect baby, s-so fucking tight."
his praise sends shivers down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. you arch your back, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. the new angle allows him to hit even deeper, brushing against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. suddenly, jaehyun's hand comes down on your ass with a sharp crack. the sting blooms across your skin, quickly followed by a wave of heat. you arch your back, changing the angle slightly, and cry out as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. jaehyun notices your reaction and adjusts his movements to hit that same spot with each thrust.
jaehyun's hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. he grips it firmly, tugging your head back as he continues to thrust into you. the slight pain mingles with pleasure, heightening every sensation. you gasp at the new angle, feeling him even deeper inside you.
"that's it, baby," he growls, his voice low and husky. "take it all for me." his hips snap against yours with renewed vigor, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. the couch creaks beneath you, the sound barely audible over your breathless moans and the slap of skin on skin.
jaehyun's grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back further. “gonna c-come,” you manage to get out. the arch in your spine deepens, changing the angle just enough to hit that perfect spot inside you with every stroke.
“be a good fucking girl and come for me baby,” he says, leaning against your ear. stars explode behind your eyes as waves of pleasure crash over and you scream his name. jaehyun's grunts become more urgent as he continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. he can feel you clenching tightly around him, milking him for all he's worth. with a loud groan, he follows you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside you.
jaehyun carefully pulls out, both of you wincing slightly at the loss of contact. he sits up, running a hand through his tousled hair as he catches his breath. the dim light from the street outside casts a soft glow on his skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his chest.
with a quiet grunt, he stands and makes his way to the small trash can beside the couch. you watch the play of muscles in his back and legs as he moves, admiring the lean strength of his body. he removes the condom and ties it off before tossing it in the bin.
jaehyun turns back to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. his hair is a mess, sticking up in wild tufts where you ran your fingers through it. he ruffles it absently, making it even more chaotic. you run a hand through his hair and scowl playfully when you feel how sweaty he is.
"gross," you tease, wiping your hand on his shirt. "you're all sticky."
jaehyun's smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "you weren't complaining a few minutes ago," he quips, his voice low, “and say goodbye to my hair - i’m shaving it tomorrow.”
you feel a blush creep up your neck, remembering the heated moments that led to his current disheveled state, and then a sadness rushes over you - that he’s leaving tomorrow. jaehyun notices your reaction and chuckles softly, pulling you closer. his arms wrap around your waist, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he grabs a blanket from the other side of the couch and places it over you both.
"what's on your mind, beautiful?" he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. you hesitate, not wanting to ruin the moment with your woeful thoughts.
"it's nothing," you reply, forcing a smile. but jaehyun knows you too well. his fingers gently tilt your chin up, brown eyes searching yours.
"tell me," he insists softly.
you sigh, your defenses crumbling under his gaze. "i just… i can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow. it feels too soon."
his expression shifts, the teasing glimmer fading as he brushes a thumb across your cheek. "yeah, i get it. it’s not easy."
"but what if things change?" you murmur, your heart tightening at the thought.
jaehyun raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "change? as in me forgetting you? not a chance. you think i could forget the girl who drove me crazy for all these years?"
you roll your eyes, but there’s a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. "well, you’re going to be busy with training and everything else."
he leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. "busy? sure. but you think i’ll be able to focus when all i can think about is you? not a chance."
your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but tease back. "is that your way of saying you’ll miss me?"
jaehyun chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "it’s my way of saying you better miss me too. because i’m about to confess something."
you lean in, curiosity piqued. "what’s that?"
jaehyun's expression shifts, becoming more serious as he searches your eyes. "i’m in love with you. like, really in love with you. i think about you all the time—when i'm practicing, when i'm on stage, even when i'm just hanging out with the guys. it’s like you're always there in the back of my mind."
your breath catches, the weight of his words settling around you. "but… why didn’t you say anything before?"
he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve come to know well. "i didn’t want to ruin what we have. i thought maybe it was better to keep it as friends. but now? i want to try things with you. i want to see where this goes."
the confession hangs in the air between you, charged with possibility. you can feel your pulse quickening, excitement mingling with uncertainty. "and what if it doesn’t work out? the timing of this is just-"
jaehyun shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "i don’t care about timing. what matters is how i feel, and i can’t let that go without saying something. i want you in my life, no matter how far apart we are."
you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "you make it sound so easy. you do realize i’m not just some object you can claim when you feel like it, right?"
he chuckles, leaning closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "oh, i’m fully aware. that’s why i’m trying to make my move before someone else scoops you up."
you laugh lightly, shaking your head. "good luck with that. i’m pretty sure no one else would bother trying."
"yeah? you think i’m the only one?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you must have a whole line of admirers waiting."
"right, because i’m just so irresistible," you reply, a smirk on your lips. "but let’s be real. you’re the only one who’s actually putting in the work."
jaehyun’s smile fades just a little as he leans back, studying you. "look, i know this isn’t easy. but i don’t want to just be some random fling. i want to be in your life, no matter where we are."
you take a breath, weighing his words. "and if things get complicated? you know they will."
he shrugs, unfazed. "shit’s always complicated. but i’d rather deal with that than let this slip away. you’re worth the trouble."
you meet his gaze, feeling the sincerity behind his words. "okay, i get it. but don’t think i’m going to make this easy for you."
he smirks, the challenge evident in his eyes. "i wouldn’t want it any other way."
-
the morning light filters in through the window, casting a soft glow on the cluttered room, and you find yourself perched on a stool, an electric razor in your hand, staring at jaehyun’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. he sits in a chair, a towel draped around his shoulders, looking slightly apprehensive but oddly amused by the situation.
“are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the tension beneath. you grip the razor tighter, suddenly aware of how little you know about haircuts.
“i kinda have to,” jaehyun replies, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone, “no long hair.”
you nod and take a deep breath, bringing the razor closer. with a gentle buzz, the razor hums to life, and you press it against his scalp. the sound is oddly satisfying, a gentle roar that fills the small space, and you watch as a tuft of hair falls away, landing softly on the towel draped around his shoulders.
“oh my god!” you squeal, barely able to contain your dumbfoundedness. you can’t help but laugh at the sight of jaehyun’s shocked expression, a blend of surprise and amusement. you can’t stop the laughter bubbling up as you buzz away the rest of his hair, the once dark locks falling in tufts around him. each pass of the razor reveals more of his scalp, and soon he’s left with a clean, smooth surface that glints in the morning light.
jaehyun tilts his head, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “so, how do i look? sexy?”
the question hangs in the air, and without thinking, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips sending a rush of warmth through you. his surprise melts into a smile, and you pull away slightly, a grin still playing on your lips as you meet his gaze.
˳ ౨౿ ⁺ ༄ ༝ end.
copywrite @yvesette 2024
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PLAY FAKE | 04
MASTERLIST (Series)
Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ
Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.
Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.
Dedication — for @rivaiken, iykyk! <3
The next couple of days have been radio silence. You don't try to communicate with Rafe and he doesn't try to communicate with you. You just throw yourself into your work, scolding to yourself how this was such a bad idea.
It wasn't meant to be a fuck relationship. It was meant to be fake. Nothing more than public displays of affection and going on to ignore each other behind the scenes. Rafe, himself, said that he wanted to continue doing all the shit he's doing now, just with you as a shielded layer of protection against his father.
Whenever you think back to that moment in the country club bathroom, your stomach recoils. Not because of the sex, but because of how willing you are. You always saw yourself as an independent person. Someone who can handle your own needs. You had to be; you grew up with no parental guidance and raised two younger sisters. You take care of people, you think of others. You handle everything yourself.
But you remember you were deep on your knees, ready to give him anything; when you were splay against the counter, begging him to make you come. God, you feel embarrassed by your own desire.
Maybe it's the control. Maybe it's because you're so used to it in the real world, for once, you want to give the reins to someone else. Especially in the bedroom. And Rafe perfectly takes it.
The only problem is he doesn't give it back.
Asshole.
You're behind the counter, telling Miranda about the new backlog of orders that the system hasn't placed, and a spill in one of the corners, when the bell rings, signaling the entrance of another customer.
"I'll be right with you!" You shout over your shoulders, quickly summarizing the last of the tasks for Miranda before turning to the new customer who walked in.
You plastered on your service smile, ready to take their orders.
Only to realize it was Rafe.
Your smile drops.
"What do you want, Rafe?" You ask pointedly, setting the towel down on the counter as he slides into the seat before you, a casual demeanor to his own presence.
"I need you to play the part again." He says, without so much as an apology or acknowledgement to what happened the other night. "It worked. My dad likes you."
"That's great," your voice is empty of emotions. "Are you coming here to tell me about what a perfect plan you made?"
"No," he shakes his head. "I need you to attend a party with me."
"Business?"
"No, at my house."
Your answer is immediate. "No," you say, shaking your head. "Can't make it."
"You don't even know what it is about."
"Let me guess," you cross your arms, pretending to ponder. "Your dad trusts you enough with me, so if he sees you and me at your party, he would assume I'll be able to control you and you won't push yourself over the edge?"
His reply is silent. That's how you know you're right.
"Guess my Pogue brain caught up fast enough."
You turn around to grab a small glass, pouring out a shot of tequila on the table before tipping your head backwards and taking it all in without a chaser. You need it for whatever this conservation is about to go. "I won't be able to go. I have a double shift."
"I haven't told you the day yet."
"I have double shifts all week," you declare sharply, the bitter taste burning your throat. You squint your eyes for a moment, readjusting, before you find his gaze again.
"I'll pay you."
"God, is this party that important?" You huff out of astonishment at his persistence. "The answer is still no. I don't want your money."
Rafe's brows furrow together. He doesn't understand why you're acting so cold to him. He came in with a good proposition; you wouldn't have to do any of those silly dinners with his father, all you had to do was make an appearance at a party long enough to satiate Ward and then you can do whatever the hell you want. Why are you being so difficult?
"What the fuck is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude?"
You laugh, abruptly, because this is so ironic and humorous to you that the sound rips out. The reckless prince, the man who received a collegiate degree from UNC Chapel Hill doesn't know what a Pogue is thinking.
You don't answer him, deciding to take one of the tasks off of Miranda's hands and clean up the spill yourself. It’s better than being cornered by Rafe. You move to the other side of the counter for the flip-door exit, stepping out from behind the booth.
Heading to the back to grab the supplies, Rafe follows you. Once you step into the backdoor, grabbing the mop, he slips in behind you, blocking the exit.
"You gonna talk or just avoid me all day again?"
You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."
His forehead wrinkles. He truly doesn't know. "What the fuck are you goin' on about?"
Having enough, you throw your arms out in frustration. "I'm talking about the fact that you're the one who fucked me in a bathroom after some problem with your dad," you snap, lashing out from all your pent-up anger. "You refused to talk to me. All you did was used me as your fucking toy."
He staggers back for a moment. Before a cruel smile appears on his lips.
"I remember you were begging for it."
You slap him.
It was so unprecedented, without thought, that it shocked the both of you. The next few seconds were quiet, too quiet, like it was a live wire waiting to spark.
Your voice is calm, almost deadly. "I want you to leave."
His anger comes back tenfold. It's almost a match made in hell; how your rage matches his, how he doesn't back down—but neither do you.
You were going to drive each other insane.
And some sick part of you liked it.
"When have I ever fucking talked to you, Pogue?" He snaps back with dark fury. "We're barely even friends. If I want to fuck you, and you let me, I'm taking it."
"Whenever you had a problem with your dad, you came to me, in this bar," you gesture out to the door. "You talked. I listened. That was the deal."
"We never said that in our relationship."
"Well, I'm putting it in," you declare. Approaching him, stepping a foot closer to close in the distance between the two of you. He doesn't move. He doesn't waver. He watches your step with heavy breathes, dark eyes. In a low breath, you warn, "you want to fuck other people? Fine. I don't care. You do that. They aren't the ones sticking with you, helping you with your dad. They don't have to carry the weight of you being you."
You know the last line was a hard hit, but it was true. You were tired of being seen as another Pogue, someone on the bottom of the litter meant to be used and thrown away. You need to make your stance firm.
"But if you want to fuck me," you conclude, pointing to yourself, "you talk to me, first."
He says nothing. Your anger is filling your adrenaline. It could also be the tequila. Whatever it is, you don't know what provoked you to say the next sentence.
"I wasn't on the pill, goddammit."
For a moment, sobriety reigns over Rafe's features. His eyes widened. "Did you—"
"I bought a Plan B, you asshole." You cut him off, not wanting him to think you're too stupid to think of the consequences. You knew. That's why you told him to pull out. "I wasn't going to carry your babies in me. But, it was expensive. Do you know how much that cost out of my paycheck?"
To him, that may seem like nothing. Nothing more than scraps rolling around his room, in his pockets that he could spare. But for you? That's money that could've gone to paying off your debt, to helping Sailor, to taking care of your siblings.
He remains silent.
You continue.
"You cover for me however you want. You host that party if you want to so fucking badly. But I can't do it. I have work."
You push past Rafe and he lets you, grabbing the mop out of the corner and stepping back into the open atmosphere of your bar. You may hate the noise that comes from the place, but it was better than being suffocated in a room with him.
Rafe quietly follows after you after you return behind the counter.
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but his words were not coming out. His gaze flicks to you, jaw clenched.
"I... I didn't know," his voice is a whisper, almost indistinguishable, that you can't help but let out a bitter chuckle.
"Yeah," you agree. "Because you refused to talk to me."
He says nothing, muted by his own anger, looking down at his hands, before he walks out of the bar. He doesn't bid farewell and you don't expect him to. All you know is he's going to get shit-faced soon and you had nothing to do with it.
—
As you are helping your little sister with her math homework—where all her struggles were about multiplication tables and recognizing whether a fraction is improper—you miss the early days of your life. Where you don't have to think about anything else.
About the bills. About the loans. About how to take care of your siblings.
About a stupid Kook prince you can't get out of your mind.
Your baby sister is seated on the couch, reading some children's book that you made a couple of years ago, stringed together with yarns and colored pencils. Her delicate voice echoes through the joint living room, sounding out the words on her own as she heard you read them million of times before.
Your sister, Amara, pulls you back to reality as she taps your arm, pointing to her problem on the kitchen counter that she's struggling with. She points to the question, reciting her logic of how she got there, and you return with praising her thought process but reminding her of her multiplication tables.
"Ohhhh," her voice drags, giggling at the realization. "I see."
You chuckle softly, laying your chin on her small shoulder and picking up your phone off the counter. While she fixes her mistake, you scroll through social media.
A notification flashes at the top of your screen.
topperthornton: hey
Why the fuck is another Kook sliding into your DMs?
you: hello?
He quickly responds, asking if you are your name.
you: why?
topperthornton: idk if u know but rafe is hosting a party tn
you: so i heard
topperthornton: well, you should come
you: i don't think so, white boy
topperthornton: it's rafe.. he's asking about u
Something in your chest sputters. You pretend it's not your heart.
you: ?? for what
You hope you didn't come off too eager. You don't want to be. You should be pissed, goddammit, but something about knowing Rafe, drunk right now, is thinking about you, makes you weak.
You hate it.
topperthornton: idk what happened between the two of u but he's drunk and crossed out of his mind and he's just been rambling about u
You stare at the text for a hot minute, before another one follows.
topperthornton: u need to come immediately
Fucking hell.
You know you shouldn’t. You just came out of a long, tiresome shift. You have siblings to take care of. You have a math problem that has yet been corrected. But, something in your chest caves. The idea that Rafe needs help, that he's asking for you specifically, and you aren't coming? Makes you uneasy.
You have to go.
There's no other way around it.
Scrambling, you pull your Amara off your lap as you run out the door and race down the block. When you stop in front of Pope's house, you pound your fist against the door, praying someone is home.
It's Pope.
"Hey," he greets. "What's up?"
"I know this is last minute but I need you to watch the kids," you announce breathlessly. His eyes follow you, concerned.
"Everything okay?"
"It's fine," you wave off. "I just have to go somewhere and I don't know how long I'll be. Amara is doing her math homework and Leilani is just reading a book. They're really sweet, I promise."
Pope laughs you off casually. "I know," he says with a smile. "I've babysat them before."
"So," you string the words together slowly, hoping your anxiety isn't coming off too strong. You don't want Pope to feel obligated. "Can you... do it?"
He nods. "Of course. Pogues help each other out."
You smile, pulling him into a quick hug, before handing him the spare key to your house. He heads over to take care of your siblings while you run to your beaten-down car, reversing out the road.
When you arrived at Tannyhill, you truly underestimated how large the party was going to be. People crowded all over, dancing, swinging, just having a reckless and wild time at Rafe Cameron's place. While you know you should be slightly embarrassed by the long pajama pants and braless baggy tee you're wearing right now, feeling overdressed, you step out of the car and head inside.
Topper spots you at the porch.
"Thank God," he mumbles under his breath. "He's been out of it."
You wonder if Topper knows about your arrangement with Rafe.
"Yeah," you nod. "Where is he?"
"I put him in his room with some water but I gotta tell you, he's wasted. Some of the things he says... may not be tasteful."
You scoff. We've already crossed that bridge. "I think I'll be fine."
Without another word, Topper pulls away and you head up the familiar stairs of the estate, descending down the hallway you were here just days ago. It feels, for some reason, like a lifetime since you visited.
You knock on the door, twice, to no answer. Deciding to go for it—praying you won't walk into some lewd act—you step into the room to find it peacefully quiet. Rafe laid out on the mattress, his eyes closed.
You scan the room, trying to see if there's any destruction—any thrown chairs or broken bottles—to find everything in the same condition as you visited prior. The only difference is a pink bag, sitting in his drawer with a bouquet of flowers sticking out.
Your stomach twists in jealousy as you wonder who that could be for. At what fool is receiving such gifts or who gave him such.
When you peek inside, you notice a couple of things: a white envelope, a bundle of red tulips, and like ten-plus stacks of Plan B.
You stiffen your laugh. You realize the fool is you.
Butterflies erupt in your stomach.
The bed creaks and you jump at the sound, seeing Rafe pulling himself up on the mattress into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, before he finds you, standing in front of him.
He says your name. He thinks he's hallucinating from the drugs.
"Yeah," you nod, cautiously approaching him as his glazed eyes follow your every move. "It's me."
"I thought you said you had a double shift."
He didn't mean for his words to come off so sharp.
"I locked up an hour ago." You explain, brushing past his aggravation.
Rafe nods at your explanation, but his movements are sluggish. Lag. He truly is out of it. You're surprised he went this hard.
His head hangs, staring at his lap, before he asks quietly. "What are you doing here?"
You shrug. You don't know either. You thought he needed help. The idea of him asking for you, but you weren't there for him, kills something inside of you. But, you can't say that. Not after everything you said to him. Not after what this relationship is based on.
You are nothing more than a fake girlfriend.
"Topper said you needed help," you evade any sense of responsibility. Of care. "He texted me."
His jaw clenches, and he looks up at you. "Top has your number?"
"No. He found my Instagram," you answer, wondering if that is jealousy you hear. But, you settle that it can't possibly be the case. "He DM'd me and I came over."
Now it's your turn to be vulnerable.
"I thought you needed help."
Rafe scoffs, bitterly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Unless you can get this headache out of my heart, I don't think there's much you can do, sweetheart."
You nod, your feet shift to the door, ready to leave. If this is all, if that's all Topper is worried about, Rafe should be fine.
"Come here."
You find yourself listening. Again. Your feet pads against the hardwood floor as you streamline over to him, stopping just in front of his legs hanging off the ledge of the mattress. His head tilts up to meet your gaze; his cloudy blue eyes staring back at you. You bite back a thought.
"I know something that would make me feel better."
You scoff at the suggestive tone. "Let me guess: fuck?"
"Sit on my lap."
You hesitate for a moment. You don't want to be another fuck. But, when his hand lands on the side of your thigh, gentle and earnest, you relent.
Slowly, you settle onto Rafe's lap, both legs on either side of his waist. Your body facing him, and despite him in the lower position, he meets you at eye level.
"Better?" You tilt your head, watching his shoulders unwind every-so-slightly.
"Much." He murmurs, his eyes tracing your face. "God, you're gorgeous."
You flush, knocking a weak palm against his broad shoulder. "Shut up," you say, feeling anything but. You're wearing scraps for clothing, something you planned to go straight to bed—not attend an extravagant party hosted by one of the island's finest.
"I'm fucking serious." He snaps, but his voice doesn't have that hard edge. You blame that on the alcohol too. "I saw all those girls tonight. And yet, here you are, in your fucking pajamas and getting me hard."
You scoff, turning away. "So it does lead back to sex."
"No, it means that they pale in comparison to you," he cups your chin, gently, pulling your gaze back to him. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Believe me."
You're afraid that if you move up against his lap, coming closer, you would feel his erection. Not to mention, if you do, you don't know if you're going to start dry-humping him like you did the other day. But, you remain firm on your stance.
You're not going to let him fuck you unless he talks to you.
The atmosphere thins into a silence, as you take in the low hums of the downstairs party blasting in distant music.
"How was the party?" You ask, probing for a conversation starter. "Was it everything you dreamed of?"
He scoffs. "You're looking at it. I basically drank and smoked until I got sick."
His vices. At least you didn't have to hear about the women he hooked up with, if that's the case. Something deep inside of you hope there isn't.
You nod silently, finding your fingers tracing the outline of his shoulders, your nails scraping against his hot skin and trailing up the crook of his neck. Rafe lets his eyes flutter close for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath.
"Don't do that."
"Why?" You ask, genuinely curious. "I'm just tracing."
"Because anything from you right now feels good," he confesses quietly, and your breath caught in your throat. You hand stills. "Fuck, don't stop."
"You're going to have to give me one signal here, Rafe," you roll your eyes. "You can't say green and red light at the same time."
He pauses for a moment. Contemplating your words.
"Green," he whispers. "Definitely green."
You return to your outline of Rafe's silhouette. He lets you. He says nothing as you follow down to the curve of his arms, skimming against his defined biceps and the muscles instinctively flex under your touch. It made you smile. You pretend you aren't proud of it.
This is done in complete silence.
Then, out of nowhere, Rafe confesses, "I shouldn't have touched you like that."
You freeze. You knew immediately what he was referring to.
"I—I was out of it. I took it out on you."
He still doesn't get it.
You abandon your artwork and use both hands to cup the underside of his jaw, forcing him to tilt his gaze and look up at you. With a sigh, you say, "that wasn't the problem." Your eyes study his face, "it was the fact that you didn't talk to me or explain to me what happened."
His gaze is broken; so incredibly so. The whites of his irises are a faint shade of red, bringing out the deep set of his blue eyes.
"I need to know these things, Rafe." You continue gently. "It's not about me being nosy, or a bitch, or anything. If I'm getting into something with you, I need to know the full picture so I can help you." You swallow your voice as you mumble out the next one. "So you can help me."
You hope he doesn't know the strain in your tone, how hard it was to say those words. You hope he doesn't press on it.
"Okay." Rafe nods, dipping his chin into your palms. "I get it."
"Easier said than done, darling."
Rafe knows it is. He's been struggling to string words together before you came into his life, much less with you in it. But, he was willing to try.
He begins at the dinner. With a stumbled start, he explains how Ward doesn't think he was good enough for you.
You stop him to ask questions. "He said that?"
"No," Rafe shakes his head. "But it's the look on his face. It's—the way he acted. You should've seen how he looked at me when he complimented you, like I'll never compare."
You frown at those words; you didn't even notice.
When he satisfied your questions, Rafe continued on with his story. Rambling further. Each word spilling out easier than the last. He assumed it's because of the alcohol, or the drugs, or perhaps it was neither altogether and it was just you. All in all, he knew.
It was easiest to talk to you.
It reminded him of the bar. He put himself in that setting. His words tumbles out of him with the impression that you won't share it with anyone else. The idea that you were just you, a bartender, who probably had to deal with this shit a thousand-times-over with other talkative customers. That it was you, who he is confessing a vulnerable part to, without the retaliation of judgment.
Rafe breakdowns the comments Ward made. The little conversation they shared after dinner, when you were helping with the caterers. Your clothes. It all became too much to him; like he was the problem. That nothing he did was good enough. His mind was spiraling by that time and having nothing else to pour it into—the drinks, the drugs, the partying—all he had was you.
And he used that to his advantage.
You listen intently, nodding along and following his words without further interruption. Only on things you truly need to clarify. When he finished, even with his incoherent noises and words, something in his chest lightens. It feels more at peace.
You stare at him for a few moments, digesting the information. A protectiveness forms in the pit against your stomach because fuck Ward, you decided. Sure, there may have been admiration from your end about his ability to become a Kook but that means shit now. You hate how he treats Rafe. You hate how you didn't notice.
"God, your dad is a dick."
Rafe doesn't agree like you expect him to. His gaze hardens, like he can't stand you insulting him. You realized, in that moment, you crossed a line. That he may harbor all these hurt and anger and resentment, at the end of the day, it's still his father.
"Sorry," you mumble softly. "I didn't mean it like—"
"I know what you mean."
That came out with an edge.
You swallow, deciding that you should leave. Maybe you being here isn't the right decision. Your legs are starting to cramp from their overstretched position and the inside of your thighs burn from the overuse. You peel your hands off his shoulders and slowly will yourself off of Rafe's lap.
"I should go," you declare, glancing at the exit.
Something in his chest tightens. He wasn't mad. He just wasn't used to regulating his emotions, especially about his father. All he knows is that he doesn't want you to leave.
"Wait," Rafe declares as you pause in front of his bedroom door. He stammers for an excuse. "I never made you come."
Your eyes slightly widen from the suggestion. "It's fine," you say, even though, in that moment, a small part of you hated him for that. "I... I finished myself off when I got home."
The image of you, in your bed, alone, touching yourself to relieve your aches, does something to him. Both in guilt and in arousal.
"No," he raises from his bed, approaching you. Now, with him standing on his own two feet, he towers over you—dominating and intimidating. "It's only fair. I should give back."
"Rafe," you place a hand on his chest, laughing awkwardly, because you don't know how you feel about him pleasuring you. "It's fine. It's not a tit-for-tat thing. You don't owe me anything."
He feels frustrated again. That's not what he meant.
"Fine." He snaps. "You want my words? I want to make you come. I want you to feel as good as I did that day."
You stare at him, the air stolen from your lungs, not knowing what to say. Then, suddenly, an idea occurs to you and a sly smile rises to your lips.
"You want to help me come?" You ask sweetly, watching as he nods his head like an obedient dog. "Okay."
Your hands travel down to the hem of his pants, to his belt, and unbuckle them. Rafe's face conveys surprise, that you're so eager to accept, and when you pull out the leather strap, you stop. Just for a moment, you glance back, asking in confirmation. "My pleasure, right?"
He doesn't know what you're trying to do, but he nods anyway.
"Turn around."
Rafe does what you say. You take both of his wrists into one of your hands—a struggle that Rafe had to assist with—and pins them behind his back. Using the belt, you tie them together.
"Sweetheart..." His voice is low, unsure of how you're able to proceed, but the arousal travels through his body at the uncertainty.
"Trust me." You whisper, buckling them into a firm lock. When you walk back around to face Rafe, your panties dampen at the sight before you: him, standing tall, with his arms pinned behind him, almost helpless. "Sit."
Rafe takes the seat on the desk chair you pulled out, his bounded arms touching the back of the seat as his focus is pinned on you, standing before his bed.
You let out a shaky breath, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the idea of what's about to happen, before your fingers hook to the band of your pants, slowly pulling them down to your ankles. He watches every little move; like a strip tease catered specifically for him. Something he can see. Something he can't touch.
Rafe can feel his erection hardens in his jeans.
"What are you doing?" Rafe's voice is rough and once you step out of your pants, revealing the white panties underneath, he groans at the sight.
"I'm going to make myself feel good," you declare evenly, trying to calm your racing heart, "and you're going to watch."
His Adam's apple bobs. "How do I help?"
"I look at you as I do."
A complaint lodged in his throat but you caught it before he proceeded. "My pleasure, right?" You remind him, to which he, with great reluctance, nods.
You leave your shirt on, deciding it would be unnecessary to take off, and settle down on his bed. Your back pressed against the mattress, you position yourself comfortably in a way that allows Rafe to watch.
And he's watching.
"Are you going to use your fingers?" Rafe asks, deciding that he needs to talk to keep him sane.
"Mhm," you answer, spreading your legs. Arousal licks up your stomach as you feel the cool air brushes the inside of your thighs, raising goosebumps against your skin. You feel the urge to laugh to dispel some discomfort in your body, at how intense Rafe is studying you, but you choose not to. "I might only use two. It'll be tight."
Fuck, Rafe thought.
With a tentative hand, you brush your fingers against your panties, feeling your wetness forming a spot. The light touches ignites heat in your core and your eyes flutter close for a second.
"Look at me." Rafe commands, trying to regain some control. It doesn't work, but you listen anyway.
You watch him as you continue to stroke yourself, pressing against your clothed pussy, not quite entering, as a light coat of your slick covers your fingers. You tip your head back with a small moan.
"Sweetheart," he groans, "stop torturing yourself."
When he truly means to stop torturing him.
You pull your hand back and stuff your fingers into your mouth to cover with saliva, tasting the faintness of your arousal, before returning back to your pussy. Pushing the drenched fabric to the side, a forefinger slips inside easily.
A whimper escapes you, your back arching slightly from the intrusion of your touch. Rafe's breath hitches in his throat as he watches you steadily pump yourself, in-and-out with one digit. You focus on your own pleasure, how good it feels, with the heightened sensitivity of Rafe's attention all on you.
And he's fucking hard.
Rafe watches as you spread your wet folds, slipping in another finger to your tight cunt. It kills him that he can't do anything about it.
"I bet my fingers would fill you more," he offers seductively, trying to remind you of his existence. That he can do it too. You laugh softly, not taking the bait. "What are you thinking about?"
"How good this feels," you whisper, hearing the sound of your wetness squelching in the air. You mewl. "You."
Rafe grunts at the confession. You try to keep your eyes set on him, to remember what you're doing, who you're doing it with, but the build-up is causing you to lose control and makes you close your eyes.
"Eyes." He demands, his voice sharper than before. You open them with great resistance, each second longer is a struggle to keep them focused on him.
"Oh, god," you moan, quickening your pace as you connect your gaze with Rafe. The way he looking at you right now. It reminds you of the night at Topper's house, the time in the country club's bathroom. "Yes, yes, fuck."
He can't stand this. He's straining against his jeans, his cock painfully hard without any relief, while his wrists are bound and reddened by how tight you locked him in. How he's pushing against the leather, trying to break free.
You close your eyes again in pleasure. Your orgasm is getting close.
Rafe swallows hard. "You feelin' good, sweetheart?"
You nod eagerly, flicking your gaze back to him. "You enjoying the view?"
He clenches his jaw, not responding, but you can tell. The impressive outline of his bulge against his pants, how hungry his eyes are. How much he wants you.
It lights something carnal within you. You start to pump harder and faster inside your pussy, your moan growing louder and without inhibition; Rafe's very own porn show in front of him.
He has enough.
"I need to touch you." Rafe declares desperately, rising from his chair, his eyes never straying from the perfect image of you, on his bed, fucking yourself, writhing in ecstasy. "Come on, sweetheart, I can—fuck—I can make you feel so much better."
He's bargaining, goddammit.
A small laugh leaves you, mixed in with the sound of your own pleasure, and you don't acknowledge his comment. His pleads. He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you.
Rafe growls out your name.
You glance up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze. "Hmm?" You say innocently, pulling your hand out of your pussy. His eyes glance down at your slickness glistening off your fingers, his chest tightening.
"Say yes." He demands weakly, his voice rough and filled with so much restraint, like he's seconds away from losing it. "Tell me I can touch you."
You pull yourself to your knees, bending before him, your smile full of satisfaction. "You want me that badly, baby?"
He doesn't even bother denying it anymore. "Yes."
"My pleasure, right, baby?"
"Fuck, yes," he groans. "Please."
You grin, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and pressing it against his full lips. He takes you in, sucking your arousal clean from your hand, his eyes still on yours, and you, finally, finally nod.
"You can touch me."
Rafe breaks his belt buckle in one swift motion, surprising you, before his hands immediately cover your body, grabbing at any flesh he can find. His mouth claims yours, pulling you into a hungry kiss and pushing you back against the mattress as his weight pins you down.
"You can't get enough of me." You tease, moaning at how good he tastes, how you can taste yourself on him, and your fingers find his hair. When he breaks, his hard eyes land on your face.
"You don't know how fucking badly I want to punish you right now," he confesses lowly, his hand lowering to the space between your legs. "For torturing me like that."
"It doesn't feel good, does it?"
Rafe scoffs, capturing your cheeks in one large hand, squeezing them together. He runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, mumbling, "this fucking mouth."
You provoke further. "You love it."
He doesn't answer you, silencing himself with a bruising kiss against your lips and sucking all the air out of your lungs. When his hand lands on your pussy, his fingers begin to run tight circles around your clit, causing you to arch into him.
"Oh, god," you moan into his mouth as he swallows the sound. Breaking from the kiss to glance down, he watches at how responsive your body is, how you're writhing under his touch, and smirks.
"Feels good?"
"So good," you whisper needily, "please keep doing that."
Rafe descends down your body, kissing a trail from the navel of your stomach to your wet cunt, aching and waiting just for him. "I'm going to make you come on my fingers, tongue, and face. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?"
He doesn't give you time to answer, covering his mouth over your swollen nub and sucks.
"Oh, fuck," your hips involuntarily bucks against his face. He grins against your pussy, in satisfaction, at how good he's making you feel. At how good you taste. To be denied of this, for the past hour, was torture. He wants to pleasure and punish you, all in one. "Don't stop, don't stop."
Your legs wrap around his head in a lock as he ascends you towards your peak, slipping two thick fingers into your pussy. The size makes your walls clench around them. Rafe groans, the vibration against your clit pushing you further into your climax.
"Please don't stop, please." You moan in desperation, afraid of him pulling out again, tipping your head back against his pillows, your fingers gripping his hair harder. Rafe twists his fingers, entering at a new angle, allowing the cool sensation of his ring against your hot cunt and amplifies your sensitivity.
"I'm not going anywhere, baby."
Rafe quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in with precision and hitting all the right spots. In addition, he slurps harder, tonguing your clit in a way that causes stars to blanket your vision. Writhing in pleasure, you moan and whimper, racing towards your orgasm.
"Come for me," he commands, feeling your walls twitching towards a desperate end, “let me hear my girl."
You release with a heavy cry, coming on his face and slumping back against the bed from pure exhaustion. Combined with the day you had, the double shifts you've been pulling, and the incredible orgasm you're given, all you want to do is sleep.
"Get up," Rafe declares, but you don't move. "Come on, sweetheart."
"Give me five minutes," you yawn, holding out five fingers while your eyes flutter. "I just need to..."
You don't finish your sentence, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That's what you tell yourself, and the last thing you remember before you fall completely in your slumber.
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please please i’d like to request a carmy blurb with the dialogue prompt “Don't go on that date” ❤️
Divine Timing.
carmy berzatto x female reader
warnings - cursing
written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here. inbox here.
He’s in a bad mood.
Technically, he’s always in a bad mood. But this is the worst you’ve seen him in a long time.
He’s screamed at Richie, belittled Marcus and pissed off Tina in the span of approximately five minutes, and everyone is tired. So, they enlist your help.
You speak fluent Carmy, Syd had said once. You’re the only one he listens to.
So, the next time he shouts, you shout back. Louder.
“Sydney, what the fuck are you doing?” he yells bitterly.
“Carmen, if you don’t stop fucking screaming, I’ll smack you so hard in front of everyone - I swear to fucking God.”
You yell back at a volume that shocks even Richie. The Beef stands still, everyone too afraid to move. Carmy is startled, stuck in place.
“We’re taking five,” you tell him, linking your fingers into his. “Come on.”
You drag him outside, sitting him down in his usual spot. You grab a water bottle and throw it at him, raising your eyebrows in a gesture that says drink it or else. He does as he’s told.
You let him wallow in the silence for a while, calming down slowly but surely. You look over, expecting to see him still angry, or frustrated. Instead, he just looks sad.
You move to sit next to him, turning your body so you can see his face clearly.
“What’s the matter, Carm? What’s got you so riled up today, hmm?”
“Nothin’” he replies, kicking his shoe into the ground. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Does matter. You can’t take your feelings out on everyone in the kitchen, you know. It isn’t fair.”
“I know.”
Your phone makes a noise, and you check the screen quickly before shoving it back in your pocket.
“Anyone important?”
“Nah. Just the guy I’m meant to be seeing later, checking in to see if I’m still good.”
Carmy tenses, whole body going rigid beside you. You feel it, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Listen, Carm. If you don’t wanna tell me what’s bothering you, then fine. But you’ve got to work it out in your own time - not in the fucking kitchen. Got it?”
He’s quiet for a moment, deep in thought. Finally, he speaks.
“Don’t go on that date.”
Your head whips around in disbelief.
“What?”
He ducks his head, willing the ground to swallow him whole.
“Don’t go on that date. Please.”
“Is that… is that what’s got you all upset?”
He scoffs and immediately regrets it, looking at you with softness in his eyes that’s rare as diamonds.
“Yeah.”
“Carmen… why?”
He takes a deep breath, gaze never leaving yours.
“It’s been eating me up, the idea of you going out with some guy. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but… I didn’t want it to be awkward, when you didn’t feel the same way. We work together, we see each other every day, and I didn’t wanna fuck up our friendship.”
“So… you took your anger out on everyone else?”
“Yeah, fuck. I didn’t mean to. Think I just bottled up my feelings too much.”
“Who says I don’t feel the same way?”
Carmy chokes on his breath, staring at you in disbelief.
“You… wait- what?”
“Anyone can see that I like you, Carm. I have since the day I met you and you flashed me one of those million dollar smiles of yours.”
He gives you one now, all bright and bashful.
“This is the last time anything like this happens, you hear me? From now on, you talk to me. And I’ll talk to you. It goes both ways.”
He nods, agreeing wholeheartedly.
“Here’s the deal, Berzatto. You go in there and apologise individually to each and every person you’ve been a dick towards today, and I’ll cancel my date with the douchebag I didn’t wanna see anyway.”
“And you’ll date me instead.”
You laugh, head thrown back and eyes crinkling.
“Fine. But only if the apologies are super heartfelt.”
He shakes his head, chuckling from deep within his chest. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he presses a kiss to your temple.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For yelling at me back there. I needed it.”
You smile, leaning into him.
“You’re so welcome.”
“It was super hot, too.”
“Shut up, Berzatto,” you chide, but you can’t fight the grin that etches itself on your face.
#murphy’s 5k celebration#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x y/n#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader fluff#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto x reader fluff#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader smut#carmy berzatto smut#the bear x reader#the bear fluff#the bear smut#the bear x you#the bear imagine#carmen berzatto x reader smut#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto angst#carmy berzatto angst
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How do Canadian schools teach about indigenous Canadian history and culture? -a curious USAmerican
In my experience we learned about colonization at the same time as we learned about the formation of Canada. At first it was "European settlers came and pushed out the indigenous population", then in the higher grades we learned more about the how and the why.
For example, how carts full of men with rifles would ride around shooting Buffalo, then leaving the meat on the ground to rot, because "a dead Buffalo is a dead indian", which was so fanatical it almost wiped out wild Buffalo entirely
Also how Canadian settlers were lured in with beautiful hand-painted advertisements for cheap, beautiful, fertile land that was unpopulated and perfect, if only you'd sail over with your entire family and a pocket full of seeds- only to be met with scared, confused, and angry lawful inhabitants already run out of ten other places, and frigid winters, and rocky, forested, undeveloped dirt.
also, smallpox blankets, where "gifts" of blankets infected with smallpox were intentionally given out
And treaty violations- Either ignoring written agreements entirely, or buying them out at insanely low prices and lying about the value, or trading for farming equipment that they couldn't use because they weren't farmers.
Then in the first world war, where they told indigenous peoples here that they'd be granted Canadian citizenship if they enlisted
To Residential schools, which was straight up stealing kids for slavery, indoctrination, and medical experiments
But we also covered the building of the Canadian Railway in which Chinese immigrants were lowered into ravines with dynamite to blow out paths through the mountain for pennies on the dollar
And the Alberta Sterilization Act, where it was lawful and routine procedure to sterilize women of colour and neurodivergent people without their awareness or consent after giving birth or undergoing unrelated surgeries
But I'm rambling.
We kind of learned Aboriginal history at the same time as everything else? Like. This is when Canada was made, and this is how it was done. Now we'll read a book about someone who lived through it, and we'll write a book report. And now a documentary, and now a paper about the documentary. Onto the next unit.
And starting I think in grade 10 our English track was split between English and Aboriginals English, where you could choose to do the standard curriculum or do the same basic knowledge stuff with a focus on Aboriginal perspectives and literature. (I did that one, we read Three Day's Road and Diary Of A Part-Time Indian, and a few other titles I don't remember.)
There was also a lunch room for the Aboriginal Culture Studies where Aboriginal kids could hang out at lunch time if they wanted, full of art and projects and stuff. They'd play music or videos sometimes, that was cool
And one elective I took (not mandatory cirriculum) was a Kwakiutl course for basic Kwakwakaʼwakw language. Greetings, counting to a hundred, learning the modified alphabet, animals, etc. Still comes in handy sometimes at large gatherings cause they usually start with a land recognition thanking whoever's land we're on, with a few thanks and welcomes in their language.
And like- when I was in the US it was so weird, cause here we have Totem poles and longhouses and murals all over and yall... don't? Like there is a very distinct lack of Aboriginal art in your public spaces, at least in the areas I've been
My ex-stepfather, who was American, brought his son out once, and he was so excited to "see real indians" and was legitimately shocked to learn that there weren't many teepees to be found on the northwest coast, and was even *more* shocked when we told him that you have Aboriginal people back home too, bud. Your Aboriginal people are also named "Mike" snd "Vicky" and work as assistant manager at best buy.
If you'd ask me, I'd say that the primary difference is that USAmerica (from what I've seen, and ALSO in entirely too much of Canada) treats our European and Aboriginal conflicts as history, something that's tragic but over, like the extinction of the mammoths, instead of like. An ongoing thing involving people who are alive and numerous and right fucking here
But at the end of the day, I'm white, and there are plenty of actual Aboriginal people who are speaking out and saying much more meaningful things than I can
So I'm just gonna pass on a quote from my Stepmum, who's Cree, that's stuck with me since she said it:
"You see how they treat Mexicans in America? That's how they treat us here. Indians are the Mexicans of Canada."
#Canadian history#Canadian education#Medical tw#Medical malpractice#Human rights#Genocide tw#Residential school tw#Child abuse tw#Slavery tw#Current events#Canadian Education#Aboriginal history
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au where ghost, who either never enlisted or is discharged/retired, works as a scare actor in a local haunt. he really enjoys the play pretend part of haunted houses, where yes people scream at the sight of him masked, covered in fake blood, and wielding a (chainless, but still loud) chainsaw, but they also laugh at themselves or their friends or just because. It’s safe, there are rules, everyone knows that when going in so everyone is on the same page.
Or at least, everyone should be. Because there’s always Those Guests, the ones who drag unwilling partners or friends with them just to watch them scream. Or the ones who try to show off for their less than enthusiastic partners and just run off screaming. Ghost has a knack for breaking these kinds of guests, and takes a bit of selfish pleasure in doing so.
That’s what he thinks is going to happen when he sees a small group of maybe four or five teenagers coming through his section of the maze. One of them, clearly the ringleader, is talking a whole lot of shit, playing himself up for the “entertainment” of the girl next to him who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. So ghost revs his chainsaw, and gets ready to pounce.
The shriek the ringleader lets out is nothing but satisfying, cracking on the high note as the whole group hightails it out of there. Well, almost the whole group. As it turns out, the ringleader isn’t above sacrificing his date to spare himself, and all but throws the girl at Ghost as soon as he pops out. Ghost nearly drops his saw trying to catch her, who goes down like a sack of bricks.
The girl, who Ghost learns is named Maggie, twisted her ankle pretty badly when she was pushed, is a chatterbox once she gets over the whole “chucked at a masked serial killer by her kind of sort of not really boyfriend”. He ended up carrying her backstage once they both realized she couldn’t put any weight on her ankle and she rants about the guy and his bullshit without seemingly taking a breath. Ghost manages to butt in, asking if she has a way home. Maggie, unsurprisingly, says that her not boyfriend gave her a ride, but she could call her older brother to come get her.
They wait backstage for him to arrive, and Ghost finds he doesn’t mind the chatter. His opinion of Maggie’s “friends” gets lower and lower with every word, but he’s not going to tell her that. He can’t, not with how on a roll she is.
Price, who manages the haunt with his partner Nikolai, lets the two of them know that the brother is here, and Ghost can hear him cussing up a storm down the hallway.
He’s not prepared for John MacTavish to storm in, furious and ready to kill. Maggie looks entirely unsurprised, maybe even a little annoyed. There’s banter between the two, that good natured sibling rubbing that only comes when you know a person their entire life, but Ghost can’t hear it. He’s just bluescreened in the corner, because holy shit.
John finally looks at him to thank him for helping Maggie, and he stops cold. Ghost is half worried the whole blood and guts getup is enough to earn him a right hook to the face. Instead, a faint blush rises on John’s cheeks.
Maggie is so done with this, and hobbles out with the help of the entirely too entertained Gaz and Roach.
After much stumbling over his words, Ghost manages to earn himself both a hastily scribbled phone number on the back of a haunt flier and a tentative date the next week. Not at a haunt, thank god. John leaves with a wave and a bashful smile. Ghost can’t do much more than wave back.
Well. Back to work, he guesses.
(And if ghost goes back to stalk and scare the piss out of Maggie’s “friends”, that’s just between the two of them)
#wayward seeds#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#ghostsoap#soapghost#scare actor au#bonus: Maggie and the boys become besties and she ends up getting hired the next year as ghosts underling/henchman#maybe soap gets to join in on the spooky fun as well#idk yet#I love haunted houses man I wish I could go to one lol
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you re-enlist
And Captain John Price absolutely doesn't want you to. He begrudgingly takes you to his office to sign the paperwork - and shows you what your decision has brought you.
18+ MDNI - 5k words
tags: John Price x f!Reader, power play, oral and vaginal sex
a/n: To get some content on here I've pulled this from my longfic Licking Wounds on Ao3. Trimmed/tweaked it a little to make them tumblr friendly :)
“Just... let me sign what I need to.” You breathed, exasperated.
Captain Price sat behind his desk, leaning back insouciantly in his chair, bouncing his knee in irritation. His cautious and tired eyes flitted between yours, considering his words before he spoke.
“This is your last chance to change your mind.” He grunted.
You sucked your teeth frustration. “I’m not changing my mind.”
“You should.”
“Why? Will my presence really be that fucking draining for you?”
He quickly absorbed your sudden anger, mirroring it as he stood from his chair, leaning against the surface of his desk on white knuckles.
“You know that’s not what this is about.”
His tone was by turn seething and pleading, glowering at you with gruelling severity.
You scoffed. “Oh, so it would be.”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t be childish.”
“Childish?”
Evidently fed up with your petulant bickering, his head dropped from his shoulders as he grunted in frustration. “I just... I can’t understand why you’d come back to this.”
“You can’t?”
“You had the chance to get away from it. You got out.”
“Got out. You think I got out, do you? That once I got shipped back to London I was done with it all?” You groaned, impatient. “Just let me sign the goddamn paper."
There was visible dispute burgeoning behind his lips, but he stayed silent – leaning forward to tug open one of the drawers of his desk. He pulled out a pad of blank paper forms, hesitantly but methodically tearing one sheet free along the perforated line. He flipped it, placing it down on the wooden surface and twisting it so it faced you, pushing it towards the edge in your direction with his fingertips.
He plucked a ballpoint pen from the steel mesh cup on the edge of the desk, before dropping it on top of the paper form with a quiet clack.
Crossing his arms, he stood upright with a huff and watched you scrutinisingly; glare challenging yet reluctant.
You quietly swallowed, stepping abashedly towards the desk and leaning over it, holding the pen between your fingers and pensively clicking the end of it with your thumb.
Jaded eyes scanned each word, the tip of the pen trailing each line as you read. You checked box after box, writing down the answers to probing questions as though you were completing an exam under the shrewdly watchful eye of your professor. Existing health conditions, current medication, family lineage, previous rank, promotable status. It would almost be nostalgic, answering questions such as these again, for the first time since you were promoted to sergeant four years ago – if it didn’t carry such painful weight, and weren’t so rife with sordid history.
The nib of your pen met that dotted line, finally, at the bottom of the form. Your eyes looked at the conditions and implications of your signature, that thick paragraph above the box, though not a single word was absorbed by your busy mind. It didn’t matter – you knew the consequences of that pen meeting the paper. Even if the Captain wished it, signing your life back into the hands of the SAS was not something that could be easily revoked.
He seemed to relish hopefully in your hesitation, his breath slowing as he watched you consider, pen hovering cautiously over the paper.
You briefly glanced up at him, from under your challenging eyebrows, meeting his eye. His stiff gaze wordlessly pleaded with you, his mouth in an austere line.
Steadfast, you ignored his silent dispute.
You signed the dotted line.
There.
Done.
No backing out now.
A soldier again.
You were astonished at the adrenaline a mere signature could pump from your heart, quivering with it, as you dropped the pen to the desk and stood upright.
His steely eyes did not leave you, face replete with a medley of discernible emotions; ire, anxiety, remorse, solemnity. Arms still crossed firmly over his chest, you listened as his heaving lungs drew in a deep, exasperated breath.
He licked his teeth before he spoke.
“That’ll be all then, Sergeant.”
He dismissed you bluntly, coarse voice dripping with derision. A crease formed in your forehead, taken aback by his sudden dismissal, breath hitching at his use of your rank instead of your name; sergeant, a title he hadn’t referred to you by in two years.
It was as though he was satisfied, doing his best to show you what your decision had brought you, to make you regret it. You were his subordinate again. Just his sergeant.
“I knew you’d enjoy it in the end, Captain.” You seethed, tone draped in sardonicism, an immediate retaliation.
His brow furrowed as he looked down his nose at you. “Enjoy what, eh?”
“You finally get to order me around again, don’t you?”
“You-”
“Am I dismissed? Or are you going to command me to drop and give you fifty?” You growled pettishly, scowling up at him. “It must’ve been hard, not being able to command me to do your bidding while I was a civilian. But that didn’t stop you from trying, did it?”
He grunted, an increasingly enraged sigh escaping his chest. “I didn’t want to be giving you orders again.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, I didn’t. Just because you don’t know what to do with yourself when you’re not being commanded to do it, doesn’t mean I’ve been waiting for the chance to.”
A kick to the stomach, you worried you’d lose your balance with the blow.
Grimacing at him, you stepped your weight onto your back foot in reaction to his venomous accusation.
“Fuck you.”
You hissed it through your teeth, unable to conjure up any intelligent rebuttal, only lashing out with the reprisal that your frenetic emotions scrambled together.
He sniffed irately, adjusting his arms over his chest.
“Can’t talk to your captain that way, Sergeant.”
Your jaw hung loose in disbelief, overcome with a cold rage that made your body quake as it flooded your arteries.
“Fuck you,” you repeated wryly, daring. “Are you going to order me not to talk back to you, sir? You prick?”
He glared at you with challenging contempt.
“You want me to give you an order, do you?”
“I want you to get off your fucking high horse.”
“Yeah? Am I too honourable?”
“Honourable? You’re a sanctimonious p–”
He put his hands on his hips, brashly sucking his teeth before he interrupted you.
“Take off your shirt.”
His hoarse command pierced the thick air like a bullet.
The wind was viciously sucked from your lungs, then, your racing heart jolted under your ribs with such voltage it felt as though you had been shocked by a defibrillator. You could only stare at him, stupid, waiting for him to relent, to take it back, to say that he was kidding.
His expression, now, was unreadable. You weren’t certain whether he was purposefully keeping his countenance devoid of emotion – or, if, you had abruptly lost any and all ability to understand him or his intentions.
He was a stranger, but a familiar one. A captivating one.
Before you could stammer out a semblance of a response, he continued.
“That’s the sort of order you’ve been wanting from me, isn’t it?” He goaded darkly, seemingly smug at his ability to render you flustered and wordless with one short sentence.
Dumbstruck, still, you could only swallow a pointed breath as you desperately tried to read any clear objective in his shrouded blue eyes.
“Go on.”
He’s not kidding.
“You wanted an order, I gave you one.”
Fuck.
You were completely staggered by the whiplash. Your distended heart thumped so vigorously in your chest you thought it might crack a rib.
There was a conviction within you, somewhere, to question him. To question if he was being serious, to ask him if this was some kind of sick joke to make you regret your decision.
And while you believed that was the case, that it was a derisive retribution, a game to get back at you – there was a stronger urge to play along. To meet his challenge, to execute his dare.
Meeting his indignant gaze with yours, you tucked your fingers under the hem that sat between your waist and hips, peeling it up your torso and stretching it over your shoulders, then past your head. Sweeping your loosened hair out of your face, you held the thin black fabric in the other hand before dropping it to the linoleum floor. You shivered a little in the cool air of the room, your stiffening nipples concealed by the cups of your rarely-worn grey marl brassiere – practical and unsexy.
But the look on his face was telling; he hadn’t truly expected you to comply.
That surprise waned quickly. His dark eyes tried their best to hold your stare, but they failed him – raking over your torso, jaw clenching as his gaze stuck brazenly to your exposed cleavage.
Trembling with adrenaline, you waited for him to say something. Anything.
You expected dispute; you anticipated he’d say, I wasn’t serious. And that would be a satisfying reaction – your effort to make him uncomfortable would prove a success, a victory, you’d have the last figurative word.
He wiped down his face with an open hand, rubbing his beard anxiously as he wrestled with what to say, how to react – maybe some attempt to restrain himself. He leaned against the surface of the desk, resting his weight on his knuckles.
Through gritted teeth, he uttered his next command.
“Bra.”
You swallowed timorously.
It was surreal, really, you worried you were hallucinating – you imagined that in reality he was shouting at you to stop, but you were unable to hear him over your carnal psychosis.
But it was too late now, to stop yourself. You were driven to finish what you started. Changing your mind now, pulling your shirt back over your head and running out the door – would leave you questioning whether any of it was real. You wouldn’t survive in that oblivion, between reality and dream, fact and fantasy.
You needed proof.
You reached behind your back, contorting your shoulders to allow your fingers to grip the clasp against your spine. Your breasts pillowed out of the top of the soft cups as you stretched the band to unhook it, before slipping the straps down your shoulders. It slid from your chest, down your arms, gently – it, too, fell to the floor; you dropped it on top of your abandoned t-shirt.
You drew in a quivering breath, the skin of your breasts tingling as the goosebumps elicited by their exposure trickled across their soft flesh.
He sucked in a heavy breath, deep and slow, rugged and rasping. He took a step, and you retracted slightly; but you watched like cautious prey, as he walked around from the far side of his desk, to the front of it. He leaned on the very edge of the surface, not quite sitting on it, as he insouciantly crossed one boot over the other. His lascivious eyes did not leave you, absorbing every feature, every curve, like he was admiring an artwork.
Despite the metre and a bit of distance from him, you felt the dense heat that hung in the air between the two of you, radiating from him like he was a fucking oven.
“Trousers.”
A brief conflict almost escaped you, but he quickly smothered it.
“Off.”
Whatever reluctance that lingered melted away, then, dripping off of you like a layer of sticky ice cream – by virtue of the unwavering sternness of his command. And that, you realised, was where your comfort lay; where there was no ambiguity, no remorse for a poorly made decision, no culpability for your actions. If you were following an order, the onus was on him.
So you followed it.
Your kittenish fingers went to the button of your grey cargo trousers, popping it undone, slyly pulling down the zip of your fly. You flayed back the open waistband, pushing them down your hips, struggling briefly to pull them past your ass; its recent plumpness made your pants a touch too small. The polyester fabric loudly shuffled in the distended silence as the trousers fell down your legs, into a puddle at your feet; you stepped out of them as though out of a pond.
By the time you looked up to meet his gaze once again, though, he had already charged at you; quickly taking the base of your head with large hands and pulling you towards him. He forced his eager lips against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, such an aggression that your first primal instinct was to resist him with claws against his chest.
But you were quick to surrender to him, relishing in the taste of him, his tongue, his breath hot in your mouth, you sucked it deep into your chest. Your starving hands coiled up and around his neck, scratching at the tense muscles in his heaving back through the fabric of his uniform jersey; hooking into him in some feline effort to make sure he was real, to prevent his escape, to keep him from being stolen away.
His mouth wasn’t on yours for long, though, dragging wetly across your jaw to your neck, the crook of your shoulder; he chewed at your soft, fervid skin, teeth skimming and barely digging into the tendonous flesh. His vicious hands gave you no reprieve, clutching at any part of you that could force you closer, tighter against him – ensnaring the meat of your hips, your waist, kneading at your sensitive breast with the other.
He separated from you only briefly, though his possessive hands didn’t leave you. Crouching slightly, he hooked his arms behind your thighs, under your ass – deftly hoisting you upwards with no visible effort. You clutched the back of his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips to maintain your balance as he lifted you, turning on his heel and carting you towards the desk. He quickly used a free hand to sweep aside the papers, flinging them to the floor in a confetti; he put you down hastily, keeping you close, the cold surface of the varnished wood biting at your bare skin.
He gave you a transitory respite, carefully checking your face before he went any further; likely ensuring you weren’t crying this time, that he hadn’t crossed an unspoken boundary. Whatever look you gave him in return was outside of your control or perception – but it was an invitation, evidently.
He dove down to kiss you again, but fleetingly – his savage lips trailed down from yours, biting their way along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You leaned back slightly on the desk to allow his avid venture, his ravenous mouth biting and suckling wherever it landed; drowning momentarily in the softness of your breast, cupping it with his wide hand to push the pillowy flesh against his face.
That wasn’t his final destination, though. His mouth only brushed over your nipple, sloppily kissing down your tensing stomach as he lowered himself to one knee, clutching your waist with both hands on his journey downward to hold you still. You felt your heart in your throat, in utter disbelief; you could only suck down jagged breaths as his lips grazed against your lower belly, just above your hip, teasing the elastic hem of your underwear. He gingerly kissed your mound through the thin cotton, controlling hands holding your hips by the bone.
Too rapacious to taunt you for long, he tugged sharply at the hips of your panties, leaning back so he could pull them down your thighs, over your knees, off your ankles. Your foot rested gently on his collarbone as he paused in apparent admiration, your exposed, spread pussy mere inches from his face; his breath despite its heat was cold against your wet, feverish skin. You felt embarrassed at his close inspection, his unashamed reverence – but his murky gaze broke away from your intimacy, instead meeting your eye. He wore an expression of unassailable pride, though cloaked in an avaricious hunger; he stared at you cruelly from under his brow, daring you to deny him.
Hitching your legs over his arms so that they rested on his shoulders, he clutched the side of your thigh with his mammoth hand while he pushed his lips into the inside of your leg, high enough, close enough, to make you quiver in desperate anticipation.
Piercing eyes still locked on yours, peering up from your eager flesh, his husky voice murmured deeply into your skin.
“Is this what you wanted?”
He jibed, almost a growl, as though teasing you for your recent behaviour – scolding you for acting out instead of asking for it, causing a scene instead of using your words like a grown-up.
Another kiss, higher, closer, teeth grazing the supple meat of your inner thigh, coarse beard prickling against the burning skin of the edge of your cunt.
You couldn’t think of the right answer, if there were such a thing, to his question – your head was by turn empty and running a million miles a minute. Really, you didn’t even know the answer.
Was it what you wanted? This entire time? Has it been what you wanted since the last time, in his barrack in Urzikstan? Since the gala? Or, even, since you met him?
Your answer left your wet throat before you had the sense to question it, or rationalise it.
“Yes.”
You breathed, a whisper, barely, almost a squeak. You weren’t certain that it was the truth, either – but it was what you wanted now, so it was honest in some sense.
With firm hands he adeptly tugged your hips so you perched precariously on the very edge of the desk, allowing him ease of access to you.
He cruelly denied you still, placing maliciously soft kisses against the slit of your pussy, torturing you with only a light pressure while you willed him to dive deeper. An ardent whimper fled your chest, quiet and pleading.
Whatever carnivore he was doing his level best to restrain escaped its prison at your sheepish sound; his monstrous hands dug deep into the flesh of your hips, maw lunging forward and pointed tongue parting your slick folds like he was searching for water. It dipped into you only briefly, a momentary taste of the dripping syrup he seemed to take pride in inducing from you – before he used it to glide up to your clit where it was nestled. With ravenous lips he suctioned it into his mouth, devouring you; dextrously chafing your sensitive bud with a flat tongue, maintaining a vacuum that made a dangerously loud and needy moan escape your throat.
He only hastened his torment in response, drinking you like he might die of thirst, breathing heavily through his nose so as not to allow you even a second of relief from the unbearable suction. Feverish claws clasped at the top of his head, running through his short hair and scratching at his scalp, holding his head where you wanted it. Your head hung back off your shoulders, briefly staring at the panelled ceiling before your eyes unwittingly fluttered shut, doing your best to swallow the choked cries that threatened to make the whole army base aware of your depravity.
Your constricting legs inadvertently tried to push him away, your body overwhelmed and desperate for a break from his ruthless consumption, almost too oversensitive to be pleasurable – but not quite. He restrained you tightly, though, not allowing you to flee from him for even a second; his firm hands controlled your hips with an alarming strength, head moving with you as though predicting the direction of your attempts at escape, mouth not separating from you once.
One hand retreated from your side, but to quickly prevent your bucking his constraining arm slithered over your lower stomach, clutching the far hip and using his elbow to hold you down to the desk. His free thumb, then, crept to your cunt under his chin. Despite how slick your skin was, drenched in both your clear sap and his saliva; the clenching muscles of your vagina were squeezed so tightly he had to push his thumb into you with effort, almost popping as it broke past your resistant entrance.
That seemed to weaken his resolve, the tightness of your muscles clamping around him rhythmically, in tune with the burgeoning, forcible orgasm that threatened to crash over you like a tidal wave; he released a ragged, resigned exhalation into your skin. You felt yourself beginning to drown in it, that swirling ocean. The floor, the desk, the room sunk in it, slipping away from you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, only him keeping you afloat.
But he stopped, then, thumb begrudgingly slipping out from inside you, suddenly releasing his merciless suction and separating his wet mouth from your yearning pussy. You groaned in dispute, cut short, a sharp rush of air escaping your overwrought lungs.
“Not yet.” He grunted hoarsely, barely audible.
Brows twisted in pleading frustration, you looked down at him, meeting his frightening glare as he pushed himself to stand; beard glistening with the wetness of you, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What?” You whined breathily, panting as you watched him tower upright, looming over you in licentious authority.
“I’m not having you come yet.”
His injunction was authoritarian, uttered darkly, his rumbling voice so hoarse it sounded animalistic; a growl, a threat. He stood between your legs, still, you watched in quiet, anticipating obedience as his livid hands tore at his belt. Ferociously unbuckling it, as though it would fight against him – he tugged open the button of his trousers, ripping down the fly and unsheathing his rigid cock from his straining boxers; menacing, it dropped heavy out of the elastic waistband, the solid shaft landing against your ravening cunt with a hard, wet slap.
You winced slightly at the sore impact, and his humanity seemed to return to him momentarily; softening face inches from yours, his attentive blue eyes scanned your features for reluctance.
“Tell me no.” He urged throatily, “tell me no, and I’ll stop.”
A shaky breath seeped through your lips, your delirious gaze flitting between his eyes, lashes fluttering as you processed his promise.
“I don’t want you to stop, Captain.” You uttered weakly, entreating.
His careful eyes darkened quickly at your bashful plea, watching your lips form the syllables of his rank like you were stroking him with it. His dominant hands returned to your hips, then, clutching at the bone and lifting your pelvis so it was angled right, just where he wanted it.
His clouded glare didn’t leave yours, his fingers dipping into your saturated pussy as though scooping the viscous fluid that dribbled from you; you watched, beguiled, as he rubbed your juices up the thick shaft of his cock, coating the head in it, briefly unable to stop himself from fucking his fist, huffing carnally, while he was lubricated by your watery come.
With a tug of your legs that were coiled around his hips, you grounded him, impatient; his sinister gaze met yours again, watching your wanton expression as he obliged you and dragged the soft head of his cock down your slit, the cruel pressure against your agitated clit making your body twitch. He restrained your spasm with his free hand your waist, keeping your pelvis still, as the tip of his length nestled between your lips, pressing against your clenching entrance.
Gripping himself by the stiff base, he pushed past your tight opening with his full weight; stretching it tautly around the girth of his cock as he stuffed you with it. You let out a pained squeak as it abruptly filled you, ramming against your cervix with a pressure that made you flinch.
The sharp soreness briefly frightened you – you had been deprived of the sensation of that angry thickness inside of you, ever since…
You didn’t let your mind go back there, not for a second; your eyelids shot open, desperate gaze sticking hurriedly to your Captain, his riled and yet gentle expression bringing you back to him, rugged but soft hands holding your hips as he impaled you on the length of him. You clutched the fabric of his jersey tight over his chest, gripping his arms, his shoulders; keeping him real, corporeal, there with you. He let out a strained grunt as he pulled you down onto him, as deep as your insides would allow him to go, to the hilt; he held you there, forcing you to squirm.
Your delicate hands held his warm neck, leaning forward as you pulled his head down to kiss him; mouth open and tongue desperate to taste him again, to feel his hot breath against your face, the soft scratch of his beard on your chin. He returned your kiss, tender, compassionate – a stark juxtaposition to his ruthless incursion; rutting into you powerfully but methodically, slow but hard, deep enough to be painful.
But the hurt was translated by your aroused nerves into a bestial pleasure, using your goading legs to pull him further into you, you felt his cock push against your aching organs. It raked against your sodden walls on its way out, a slight sting as it dragged along your taut opening – before filled you again, abrupt, sharp; it forced a sweet cry from your fevered chest into his mouth. He grinned arrogantly against your lips, a ragged, breathy chuckle taunted you in response.
You separated from him, then, lying back over the surface of the desk; you arched your back, angling your hips so that his length beat your walls more viciously, wrapping your legs around his waist and clutching at the edge of the desk above your head with straining claws. Exposed to him now, on display, his thrusting only increased in vehemence, speed, depth; carnivorous hands digging into the meat of your hips as if you might slip away from him, forcing you down on him with each rut.
Eager for release, your fingers glided down your stomach, navigating diffidently to your clit; you drew wet circles over it, letting out a soft whine as you pleasured yourself with the rhythm of his accelerating thrusts.
“Shit.”
He groaned huskily at the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, his face twisted into an exasperated rapture, forcing himself to slow down slightly so as not to push himself over the edge too quickly.
He stopped you, hastily; a stern hand tightly ensnaring your wrist and tearing your fingers from you. He pulled your arm upward, pinning it firmly to the wooden surface underneath you, holding your hand by your head. He leaned over you, then, making you watch as he held his free hand to his lips, spitting lecherously into his fingertips; they found your clit without needing to look, stroking the oversensitive spot inexorably, the pressure cruel and unrelenting. His head hung from his shoulders, mouth landing against the hot skin of your shoulder, placing gentle kisses along your collarbone as he ruined you.
The union of the two sensations – his cock, hard as stone, fucking into your stomach, and merciless fingertips tormenting your swollen clit; it surged within you, frayed nerves electrocuting you as your inevitable orgasm loomed, its delay rendering it incensed and sorely overpowering.
He must have felt the muscles of your walls clamping down on the length of him as it dawned on you, the change in the music of your sounds; aching whines growing louder, crawling from your labouring throat.
“You gonna come on me, are ya? Beautiful thing?”
He growled into your skin, only increasing the severity of his torture, relentless in his goal to finish you.
Your delirious tongue was unable to form a word in response, only releasing a high-pitched and arduous cry as your unforgiving orgasm collided with you, waves of carnal heat pulsing from the base of you, the muscles of your bullied pussy clenching tightly around his avid cock.
“That’s it.”
He grinned against your neck as he kissed you there, moving with you, allowing no escape.
“Good girl.”
With no apparent intention of slowing down to offer you a reprieve, he instead began speeding up, forcing you to squirm and shriek in dispute at the overstimulation. Your desperate, animal fingers clawed at his wrist, struggling to tear his stiff hand away from your cunt – but he relented, eventually, falling victim to his own pleasure as he shifted his focus to fucking you harder, deeper.
He scooped an arm under your back, lifting you just slightly from the surface of the desk as he hovered over you; the other hand holding the bone of your hip tightly, keeping it steady while he rammed you. You listened in rapture to his grunts of ecstasy, gentle hands clutching the back of his neck, nails grazing his hot skin as you coaxed him to chase his own release.
You pressed soft lips into his bearded cheek, comforting, reassuring him; and that seemed to do the trick, bringing him too close.
“Fuck.”
He groaned hoarsely in begrudging pleasure as he paused, for just a hesitant second, before reluctantly tugging his cock out of you and slamming the wet shaft of it it against your mound.
You panted heavily, holding your forehead against his, relishing in the sensation of his hot come shooting over your stomach, painting you; it dribbled down your sides, down the creases of your hips, dangerously close to your cunt. He winced against you, twitching involuntarily as he pushed the last of his semen out of the head, drooling onto your febrile skin.
You kissed him, again; he tenderly pressed his lips against yours in return as he took the moment to catch his breath. His mouth left yours after a moment and landed in the crook of your neck, his heaving body hung over you, propped up by his elbows on the desk under you. You felt him kiss under your ear, his warm breath and prickling beard sending a shiver down the nape of your neck.
You wanted to say something, anything – but there were no words you could think of to offer him. Gratitude? An apology? Your brain was fried, fucked into pliable mush.
Instead you lay in silence, embracing him for as long as it would last, doing your best not to consider the consequences that lay ahead of you as a result of such an unbelievably foolish lapse in judgement.
He’d been your captain for only a few minutes, and you had fucked him already.
And yet you wished the moment could last infinitely; savouring his gentle lips as they planted drowsy kisses on your neck, tired hands caressing your waist in what felt like wordless praise, a silent gratitude.
Despite the reservations, the guilt, the doubts that stormed around you, deafening; your thoughts encircled only one thing, one source of comfort.
He was your Captain again.
#john price#call of duty fanfic#john price x reader#john price x female reader#captain john price#cod fanfic#john price x you#captain price#captain price x reader#captain john price smut#john price eats pussy like he'd die of thirst fight me on that
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— perfect
your parents believed you were destined for each other, though it would seem they hadn't taken into account your differing ideals.
CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.2k wc, fluff, arranged!marriage au, basically arranged partners-to-strangers-to-lovers, jing yuan in denial until he can... no longer deny it
A/N : this was supposed to be a one paragraph brainrot. what happened.
when you first heard of your prospective marriage partner, you didn't feel all that much for him. granted, there was only so much you could feel when listening to your parents ramble on. he was supposedly the son of a family friend — the ones who served the realm-keeping commission. he was set to graduate the academy in a few months, but that's all you really paid attention to before tuning out.
it wasn't long when you finally met, and you soon discovered you didn't mind him as much as you'd thought. well, that was until you took note of the clear lack of interest he held for you (for anything since you saw him, for that matter). he was aloof, never speaking more than a couple words before turning away and focusing on something else. with the boundaries clear alongside his lack of interest, you decided it wasn't worth the effort. your parents will just have to deal with it.
the next you heard of him was a few months later, the day after his graduation. apparently, he had enlisted into the cloud knights and was now part of their ranks.
your parents called it rebellious, you called it escaping his fate.
you don't see nor hear from him for a couple of years, instead finding out his achievements through gossipmongers and the occasional exaggerated tales you hear on your strolls. at least he's out there making a name for himself and doing what he loves, free and unshackled at the hands of fate.
he bumps into you when he's on patrol on the luofu, and at first he thinks it to be you trying to reach out again, only to be stumped at the uninterested — dare he say, annoyed — look you give him before stalking away in the opposite direction. but he shrugs it off thinking you had a bad day, returning to his duties in maintaining the peace of the luofu.
he runs into you again when you're out food shopping. it's a complete and utter coincidence you're both in the same place once more; you out on errands while he is on duty. oddly enough, he's doused in a wave of peace and content from just watching you from afar, the knowledge that he is capable of protecting you has him prouder than he'd like to admit.
that doesn't last for long, however, for you suddenly shift in place, your expression now more clear than it was earlier. jing yuan's heart stops then, plummeting into an abysmal pit as his eyes zero in on the new expression. your smile is far more beautiful than anything he could ever hope to imagine.
(in a trance, he wonders if you would ever direct that smile towards him.)
it's not until a little later he finds himself wondering about how you're faring, having half the mind to reach out through a letter before ultimately scrapping the idea. after all, he has to focus on his training, not over his arranged partner who probably doesn't even want him after that stunt he pulled all those years ago (he wouldn't either, if he were in your shoes).
and so he ignores the ache in his heart when he spots you from his peripherals. he ignores the urge to abandon his post and remove the bags from your grip and transfer them into his own. he ignores the desire to have a proper conversation with you, one that doesn't result in him being tongue-tied and you annoyed. he ignores the desperation surging through his nerves to hold your hand in front of everyone, wondering what your skin would feel like against his calloused palms.
he ignores it all, and he ignores it well.
so why is it now he finds himself breaking into a sprint after catching a glimpse of your side profile, ignoring the calls of his fellow knights in fear of losing you — the chance to finally speak to you and settle this once and for all because screw it. screw his hesitation, screw his yearning — screw it all!
when he finally reaches you he's at a loss, the words which once seemed so clear in his mind now fizzled out on the tip of his tongue. it's laughable, really, how he's praised for being quick-witted and yet he's reduced to nothing but a gaping mess in your presence. so he just stares at you with a heaving chest, your furrowed countenance making his heart stutter more than it really should.
it's not until you turn to leave that he panics, latching onto your wrist in a last-ditch attempt as a strangled "wait!" flies past his lips. you don't recoil from his touch, so he supposes that's a good thing, even if your glare is anything but that.
"i... i want to apologise for how we started off," he stutters, tripping over his words as he lays himself bare, exposing his heart for you to judge; for you to determine whether he is worthy enough to be by your side. there's so much more for him to say — so much more he wants, no, needs to get off his chest before you slip away yet again.
should he start off with how he could only speak a couple of words when you first met because he feared stumbling over his words and making a fool of himself? or should he say he wanted to build up his courage before facing you, and that part of his reasoning to join the knights was in hopes of finding that? (although it was a bit of a belated realisation, but no one's keeping track!) oh, or should he start off with—
"is that all you have to say?" your voice is smoother than he last remembers, though maybe it's the fact he's only ever heard you speak directly to him a couple of times, having heard your voice when on patrol more than he has face to face. if it weren't for you clearing your throat, jing yuan would have forgotten to answer.
he quickly snaps himself out of his trance, pushing down the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. "if it's alright with you, would you..." he gulps in apprehension, chest constricting as he fumbles to regather his thoughts. he sucks in a breath and lifts his head to meet your gaze, revelling in your slightly widening eyes. "if it's alright with you, would you like to start over again?"
silence ripples between you after his words. can you hear his heart hammering behind his sternum? can you see his breaths quicken in anticipation? can you feel his hand become unbearably warm against the skin of your wrist?
oh god he hopes not.
but then your voice ceases his thoughts, your amused smile doing little to help his above mentioned symptoms. "i'm [name]. it's nice to meet you," your voice trails off a little, and he doesn't bother hiding the growing smile when he realises what you're doing.
and so he eagerly plays along, losing himself in the warmth you provide when you slip your hand into his.
"i am jing yuan. and... likewise, [name]."
(jing yuan decides the sensation of your skin against his calloused palms is unlike anything he's felt before. if he had to put it into words, he would say it's perfect.)
if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33
#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#jing yuan x reader#jingyuan x reader#honkai star rail x you#hsr x you#jing yuan x you#jingyuan x you#honkai star rail imagines#hsr imagines
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Fallen
Nico Hischier x fem!reader
summary: part 2 to falling
notes: hello!!! considering it’s after midnight, i’m giving you guys a gift for my birthday. this was very fun to write and i continue to just make myself sad that i don’t have a nico in my life. i hope you enjoy! happy reading! 🫶🏼
this is unedited!!
request: anon requested a part 2 to falling
[4.9k]
“I really wish you’d let me carry something, Neeks,” you whine out, pressing the button to call the elevator down to the parking garage.
“Nope. I’m perfectly capable of carrying your groceries on my own,” Nico dramatically swings the reusable shopping bags over his shoulder, walking a few feet away before turning and striking a pose.
Your laugh echoes around the concrete garage, amused at his theatrics.
It’s been about three weeks since your accident at the rink, and Nico hasn’t left your side since. As long as he’s in Jersey, that is.
After that first night he’s only really left your apartment to either go to practice and games, or to sleep. Sometimes even the latter not being true, considering there’s been a few nights he’s crashed on your couch after late-night movie sessions or particularly rough games.
During your follow up appointment your doctor told you to keep the sling on for a few more weeks, not wanting to add any unnecessary strain to the healing muscles in your shoulder. After you told Nico the sling was here to stay, he insisted he was going to, literally, be your right-hand man.
You were also told, as long as you and the sling are one, going to work is on your list of restricted activities. So is any form of strenuous activity, lifting anything over ten pounds, and whatever else Nico deems unsafe for you to do. Like carrying your groceries.
Nico has shown up at your apartment every morning with a cup of coffee, either bringing you breakfast or offering to cook for you. He takes his post-practice and pre-game naps on your couch in case you need him to do anything for you. After home games he shows up with takeout and candy, keeping you company while you’re stuck in your apartment day after day.
When he’s on the road he enlisted the help of Jesper’s girlfriend, Nicole, to come over and check on you at least once a day. Anytime he’s playing in a different state, no matter where he is, he always manages to have dinner delivered to your house, making sure you’re not stuck eating microwave meals and simple dinners, thanks to your limited cooking ability and lack of being able to drive at the moment.
Before he has to leave for stretch of away games, he always makes sure he takes you to the grocery store, stocking your pantry and fridge to make sure you have everything you need while he’s gone. He calls you every chance he has on the road, wanting to check on you and how you’re feeling while keeping you up on the team happenings, knowing how eager you are to get back to work.
Today is one of his ‘preparation’ days, as you’ve dubbed them. He showed up this morning with a coffee and a bagel, cut into quarters instead of in halves, so the insides wouldn’t slip out of the other side when you tried to take a one-handed bite. He did your dishes and folded your laundry for you while you showered, twisting your hair into one of his trademark braids after you were dressed before ushering you out of your apartment, claiming the two of you had errands to run.
The first errand on his list was taking you to the rink, a satisfied feeling settling over him when he saw the large smile on your face when he told you he asked if you could sit in on practice today. You were practically buzzing with excitement, not having been at the rink since the day of your fall. You had grown to love the sport of hockey during your time at your job. Missing the chill of the air, the sound of pucks sliding across the ice and the scrape of their skates as the players come to a stop.
Several of the players slide over to the bench where you sit, just as excited to see you as you are to see them.
Jack and Luke come over first, telling you how ready they are for you to be back, having given themselves the job of Puck Police, ensuring that all of the pucks are cleared out of the skate path leading towards the benches.
Jesper, Timo, and Holtzy tell you how much they miss the jokes you would tell them so they would quit mean mugging and actually smile during arrival pictures.
Dawson, Johnny, and Curtis joined the gathered group, bringing you a card that everyone from the team had signed. It was a giant novelty card, clearly custom made, considering there was a picture of the whole team on the front, the inside reading “Sorry you fell over our pucks. We feel really pucking bad about it.”
You were doubled over in laughter the entire time the team spent chatting with you before their practice officially started, fulling understanding the sentiment that laughter is the best medicine. You were even able to give the young girl filling in for you some pointers, helping her adjust the settings on the camera for different shots, happy you were able to sneak in a little bit of work to your visit.
After practice was over and Nico was showered and ready to go, the two of you went out for lunch at a small café just down the street from the rink, their large bakery selection immediately catching your eye. You ended up having cake for lunch, telling Nico to mind his own business when he asked if you wanted any ‘real’ food.
Once lunch was over, he took you to the grocery store, helping you pick out ready made meals and a few other essentials before bringing you back to your apartment, where you were currently witnessing Nico’s wannabe model moves.
Once the elevator lifts you to your floor, you walk over and unlock your door, leaving it open behind you for Nico to walk through, following you straight to your kitchen to put away your groceries.
You grab a box of cereal, setting it down on the counter before reaching up to open your cabinet door. Just as you’re reaching up to place the box on the shelf, you hear something fall, a bottle of water slipping off of one of the shelves in your fridge. You jump slightly, trying to turn your body at the same time, the sudden movement pinching one of the nerves in your shoulder, causing you to let out a hiss.
Nico immediately clocked the displeased noise, jerking his body into a standing position and walking over towards you.
“Are you okay? What happened? Did you try to lift this up with your bad arm?” he asks you, arms hovering around your frame, eyes glued your slinged shoulder.
You finish pushing the cardboard box onto the shelf, closing the wooden cabinet door.
Rolling your arm a bit, you turn to face Nico.
“I’m fine. Just jumped a little and it caught my shoulder in a funny way, I guess. No big deal, just more uncomfortable than anything,” you assure him.
He narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge if you’re lying to him or not.
Narrowing your eyes back at him, you pull a face at him.
He backs up, laughing, seemingly convinced you’re fine.
Walking back over to finish placing the several salad kits you bought in the fridge, Nico starts talking with his head fully inside of your fridge.
“So, we leave out around six tonight and I won’t be back until late Friday night,” he tells you, meaning he’ll be gone almost four full days, considering today is Monday. “Nicole offered to stay over here if you wanted her to, incase you needed to go anywhere.”
You’ve gained a friend in Nicole through this whole process, enjoying her company. You didn’t have many girl friends in the city, your job taking up the majority of your time. Nico was the person you spent the most time with, even before these past few weeks, but you occasionally tagged along to outings with the team, growing close to Jack, Luke, Timo, and Jesper, too. You figure that’s why Nico chose to ask Nicole to help out, seeing as you’d spent some time with her during celebratory bar nights and get togethers at Nico’s apartment.
The two of you were friendly before, but now you would consider yourself good friends, going out to lunch together and watching bad reality tv during the day when she would come over. She even helped you do your skincare routine one night before bed, giving you different tips and tricks on the order of application. It felt like you were in middle school again having a sleepover with your best friend.
“I might take her up on that. I think there’s new episodes of The Circle on Netflix. We could binge them while eating ice cream!” your eyes light up with an idea.
Nico laughs and shakes his head at you while shutting your fridge door.
“I really don’t understand your obsession with these awful shows. Jesper and I were talking about how we wouldn’t be surprised if the two of you signed up for your own spot on one soon.”
The thought of Nico talking about you when Jesper is talking about Nicole makes your brain stutter for a moment.
You can’t deny that your new found feelings for Nico have continued to develop during the time he’s spent being your self-appointed helper. His insistence on being your personal chauffer, showing up every day like clockwork, even going as far to tell the media team the alternate captains are going to have to do post-game media for home games until you’re back to work causes your feelings to grow each day.
You haven’t told your mom about the arrangement with Nico, not wanting to get her hopes up, still not entirely convinced Nico isn’t just being nice. The two of you haven’t shared any intense moments like the first night he braided your hair, now the braiding sessions being filled with small talk and laughter.
Hearing that Nico is bringing you up when Jesper is talking about his own girlfriend, however, sparks a seed of hope in you.
“And if we do, you and Jesper can be our cheerleaders from the other side,” you tell him, sticking your tongue out.
When Nico finishes putting away the rest of your groceries, he takes the reusable bag and returns it to its hiding spot under the sink.
At this point, Nico knows your apartment as well as you do. He knows where all of your dishes go, because he unloads your dishwasher and washes anything by hand that won’t fit. He knows where all of your clothes go in your room, helping you wash, fold, and put away your laundry – with the exception of your underwear, he hasn’t earned access to that drawer yet. He knows where everything in your bathroom is, having to take a shower one morning after he crashed on the couch. He even knows which junk drawer has which random items in it.
You’ve become so comfortable with Nico being here, it’s like a tiny part of you doesn’t want your arm to heal, just so he has to continue coming over and playing roommate.
Nico walks over and leans against your stove, facing you.
“Are you sure you’ll be fine while I’m gone? It’s the longest stretch of away games we’ve had since your fall.”
He looks genuinely worried, the thought causing a familiar swirl in your belly.
“I’ll be fine, Neeks. This thing comes off next week anyways,” you lift the arm in your sling for emphasis. “I’m going to have to get used to you being gone again, anyways. This week will be like a practice run.”
You catch the way Nico’s eyes just slightly fall. If you weren’t always paying attention to his beautiful eyes, you would’ve missed it, perking up just as quickly as they fell.
“God, finally. Thought I’d have to be your maid forever,” he exaggerates his words, making a big show of rolling his eyes and throwing his arms up above his head.
“Oh shut it, you love hanging out with me,” you step towards him, wagging your finger in his face.
He tilts his head, pretending to think about your words. “Yeah, I guess you’re pretty good company,” he reaches out, grabbing the finger a few inches from his nose.
The two of you stand there, his hand not letting go of your finger, letting it drop in-between your bodies.
His lips fall from his wide smile, slightly separated as he stares at you.
Feeling the energy shift, you stare back at him, not knowing what exactly is happening. Neither one of you have spoken for a solid minute now, your finger still trapped in his hand.
Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, and back up to his eyes. He darts his tongue out to lick his dry lips, unable to move your gaze from them this time. Thinking about what his lips would feel like on yours, the alarm bells start going off in your head.
Clearing your throat and stepping back, you break the moment, not knowing what else to do.
Nico drops your finger, bringing a hand up to run through his long hair, looking away from your face.
Was he thinking about kissing you like you were thinking about kissing him? Would you have really let him? Why did you interrupt the moment? You like him you idiot!
When Nico pushes himself off of your stove, you start ignoring the voice in your head.
“I need to get going. Still need to stop by my place and grab a few things before heading to the rink,” he says, still refusing to meet your eye. “I’ll, uh, call you when we get there, like usual, okay?”
Nodding at him you reply with a “Yeah, sounds good.”
“Alright. Good. I’ll see you in a few days?” he walks over to you, hands twitching at his sides like he wants to give you a hug, but doesn’t know if he should.
You eliminate the space between you, wrapping him up in a hug. “Sounds perfect. Play safe.”
He hugs your body to his for a few more moments before letting go, a small “Bye” leaving his mouth before he grabs his keys off of your kitchen table and exits your apartment with a wave.
You stand in your kitchen thinking about your interaction, deciding a phone call to your mother was needed.
———————————————————————————
Grabbing the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, you walk back over to your living room and plop down next to Nicole.
Tonight was the night the boys are supposed to be getting back from their road trip. Since they weren’t supposed to be getting back until late tonight, you decided to spend the evening watching some of your favorite rom coms to pass the time.
Nicole always said waiting for Jesper to get home on the day of was the worst, because she knows its so close but the time always seems to drag. You surprisingly understood, the past week feeling like the longest of your life without Nico’s presence around your apartment.
After your phone call with your mom the other night, you allowed yourself to realize you want to be with Nico. Your confession to her that you did actually have feelings for the hockey player earned a squeal of joy and an extremely enthusiastic “I told you so!”
Talking with your mom about his actions throughout your whole accident and healing process really opened your eyes to how long you’ve really had feelings for him. You weren’t completely blind, finding Nico attractive from the very beginning, but you hadn’t really let yourself go all the way. Preventing yourself from getting your hopes up and embarrassing yourself, you kept using the excuse of him just being nice to justify why there were no feelings involved in your friendship.
You realized what a load of bullshit that was, though, considering how often you found yourself calling him to tell him good news whenever you received any. Or wanting to have a movie night anytime you were upset or sad, knowing your mood would improve the second Nico walked through your door. Or all the times at the bar when you would ignore men’s advances, wanting to just spend time talking with Nico the whole night.
Your mom recounted all the times she knew, once again marking that first time he helped you on the ice as the moment. She’s still not able to convince you that it was then, considering you and Nico didn’t even really know each other then.
Thinking back on your phone call with your mom made you think about how you hadn’t heard from Nico in a while, pulling your phone out to see if he had given you any update on where they were.
Nicole threw a handful of popcorn at you, fussing at you to pay attention to the movie and that they’ll be home when they’re home. You surrendered to her wishes and placed your phone face down on the coffee table in front of you.
Your third movie of the night was about halfway over when you heard a key turning in the lock on your door, knowing that only one other person had a key to your apartment.
You grab the remote and pause the movie, turning your body to face behind your couch, waiting for Nico to walk around the corner.
As he rounds the corner, suitcase in hand, you can’t help the grin that breaks out on your face.
“You’re back!” you exclaim, fighting the urge to leap off of the couch and crush him in a hug.
“I’m tired,” he responds, his smile bright but eyes tired.
The dark skin under his eyes confirm his words, assuming he had been asleep on the plane until they landed.
“Well, I guess that means I need to get home to Jesp,” Nicole says, sitting up and grabbing her shoes.
Nico looks over, mumbling out a “Good to see you Nicole, thanks for keeping her company this week,” before looking over at you, yawning as he told you he was going to take a quick shower then crash on your couch.
You give him a nod, telling him the stuff he bought last time was still in there.
Nicole gives the two of you a look, waiting until she hears the bathroom door shut to speak up.
“He keeps shower stuff here?”
Looking over at her you explain the time he fell asleep here and needed to shower that morning, stating you had too many expensive looking products to waste on himself, so he bought his own shower essentials and uses them anytime he decides to shower here after practice.
“So let me get this straight. He comes home to your apartment after a long road series, keeps his own products in your shower, has a key, and stays the night sometimes?” she watches you nod, her words not sinking in. “So, he does all of this, but the two of you still claim you’re just friends?”
Not knowing how to respond, you just stare at her. She keeps looking at you, waiting for your answer.
“Well…I mean…I don’t know,” you finally spit out.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” she questions.
“I mean, there’s little moments here and there that lets me think we could be more than friends, but I don’t want to bring it up because what if he’s just being nice? What if he agrees that we’re really just friends?” you open up to Nicole, the only other person you’re able to talk about this with being your mom.
She scoffs at you. “Are you kidding me? What kind of moments? Because from where Jesper and I are sitting, we keep expecting you guys to make it official any day now.”
Your cheeks heat at her words. “Well, like the fact I never even had to ask him to do all of this stuff for me, he just did. And he admitted that he drove all the way to the hospital the night I got hurt because no one had any updates, then drove here with no socks on when they told him I had already come home. He keeps getting all of these restaurants to cut my food up in weird ways so it’s easier for me to eat with one hand. And if they don’t do it, he will,” you keep rambling, not focusing on your surroundings enough to hear the shower shut off. “I mean, he offered me skating lessons when he saw me stumble on the ice once, then started coming over for dinner multiple times a week, unless they’re on the road.”
Nicole looks past you down the short hallway, noticing the light shining through the open bathroom door.
You keep talking. “The biggest one, though, is that I think we almost kissed before they left on Monday,” you tell her, causing Nicole’s eyebrows to shoot up.
“SPILL,” Nicole insists, her interest at an all time high.
“Well, we were standing in my kitchen just goofing off and I stuck my finger in his face. He grabbed it and wouldn’t let go, then we just kind of started staring at each other. Before I knew what was happening, I was staring at his lips and he was staring at mine, then I got nervous and stepped back before anything could happen,” you tell her with a shrug.
Nicole groans. “Are you serious!? You could have kissed him and you chickened out? What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know! I was thinking ‘what if I just have something on my face and he doesn’t actually want to kiss me.’”
She shakes her head at you. Movement down the hallway catches her eye, watching Nico step out of the small bathroom, and idea forming.
“I mean, you do like him, right?” She watches Nico’s figure stop in his tracks.
You sigh at her, letting your head sag a bit.
“Of course I like Nico. He’s kind, funny, takes care of me,” you start, a dreamy tone making its way into your voice. “Not to mention he’s insanely attractive. I just…don’t want to mess things up.”
Nicole flits her eyes over to Nico while you’re not paying attention, watching his face morph into shock.
“Y/N, the only way you’re going to be able to know if he feels the same way or not is to tell him. Forget about making a fool of yourself. Nico won’t shun you if he doesn’t feel the same way, he’s not that kind of guy,” she assures you.
“I know, Nic. But how do I even bring it up? How do I find the right time to slide ‘hey, so I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, let me know if you feel the same!’” You pull a thumbs up at her, pulling a sarcastic face.
Nicole smirks at you, confusing you until she says “Just like that,” before pointing behind you to a freshly showered Nico standing in the hallway, having heard every word you just said.
You turn around, snapping your head back towards Nicole when you see Nico. You don’t move, too petrified with the fact he just heard you say you were in love with him.
“Y/N, is that true?” Nico calls out, cautiously walking towards your couch.
Nicole stands, claiming it was time for her to go before she hastily made her exit.
Your eyes are squeezed shut, trying to pull off the ‘if I can’t see them, they can’t see me,’ move.
“Is what you just told Nicole true? You’re in love with me?” you hear from in front of you now, feeling the couch dip.
You refuse to open your eyes, wanting to disappear into thin air. When Nico reaches his hand out, grabbing your non-slinged hand in his own, your eyes snap open.
He’s looking at you with an expression in his eyes you’ve only ever seen a few times before. Once when you wore his jersey for opposites day at work, handing him your camera to tote around all day as you, very poorly, skated around the ice, trying to scoot a puck around. The second was when you surprised him with a pan of brownies for his birthday, knowing how much he loves the chocolatey squares. The third was when he braided your hair for the first time, recognizing the softness of his eyes through the mirror. The most recent, aside from right now, was earlier this week, during the same moment you just described to Nicole.
“I…” you try to speak, but you’re still stuck in shock.
Nico chuckles and drops his head, looking at your hand in his.
“Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, too?” he repeats your words, looking up and into your eyes as he says them.
Your mouth snaps shut, a new kind of shock entering your system.
“I think I have been since that first time Jack almost took you out on the ice,” he starts. “I had seen you before, but we only really spoke when you were telling me how to pose for pictures. Or making me smile for arrival pictures,” he reminisces, a fond smile on his face. “I always thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, but I knew I had to get you to talk to me somehow, the skating lessons being my perfect in,” he tells you, squeezing your hand.
You can’t believe your mother was right. The lessons were a calculated move for Nico to establish himself in your life.
Nico keeps talking, pulling you from the realization. “The more we spent time together, the more I realized I wanted you to be more than just my pretty coworker I taught how to ice skate. So, when you offered the dinners after lessons, I jumped. I was hoping it was your way of telling me you had feelings for me, too, but when you kept telling your mom we were just friends, I figured I could wait it out a little longer,” he references all the times you complained about your mom jumping to conclusions. “I kept lying in wait, trying to find the perfect moment to make my move, and then you got hurt. I was so worried when they told me you fell and they had to take you to the hospital. Got scared it was my fault, that I told you the wrong thing during a skating lesson, or I pushed you to skate on your own before you were ready,” he starts rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand.
“When I realized you would need major help while your arm was in that sling, not even being able to brush your hair by yourself, I knew this is where I could tell you. Maybe bring it up when I was braiding your hair, or slip a note in your bagel bag one morning. Hell, I even thought about spelling it out with sushi pieces that first night, but figured that might be a bit tacky,” you laughed at his words, remembering wondering what was taking him so long to bring your food to you. “But then, every time I thought about it, I chickened out. The closest I ever got was the moment in your kitchen, every muscle in my body screaming at me to just lean in and kiss you,” your laugh is cut short at his confession. “When you pulled back before I could, I assumed you didn’t feel the same way, so I left. I was embarrassed, not wanting to sit in the rejection any longer. But this week, being away for so long after spending nearly every day with you for the past three weeks, I knew I had to tell you.”
You’re glad he was as affected by not being around you this week as you were, not feeling as pathetic anymore.
“Was going to tell you when I walked through the door actually, but then I saw Nicole here and didn’t want to do it in front of her. That worked out great, didn’t it?” he laughs at the situation, Nicole clearly having different plans.
You scoff out a “Yeah, clearly, considering she railroaded me without me even knowing.”
“Well, I’m very glad she did, because now I can stop talking about you like a lovesick puppy to them,” Nico tells you, confirming your earlier feeling that Nico brings you up during ‘girlfriend talk’.
“My mom is so totally going to freak out when I tell her we’re dating,” you tell him, stopping yourself. “We are dating, right?”
Nico laughs as he brings his hands up to cup your face, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips as soft as you imagined they were. He keeps the kiss light and sweet before pulling back.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” your cheeks flush, earning another laugh from the man in front of you.
“C’mon, I’m tired and would love to sleep in an actual bed tonight. We can talk details tomorrow, girlfriend,” he emphasizes the word. “Right now, I need cuddles and sleep,” he stands, holding his hand out for you to grab as you stand, leading you down the hallway towards your bedroom.
Thinking back to what lead you to this moment, you giggle quietly to yourself, finding it a little comical that it took you literally falling on the ice and injuring yourself to realize you’d already fallen there once before.
#nico hischer x reader#nico hischier x y/n#nico hischier x you#nico hischier x reader#nico hischier blurb#nico hischier fanfic#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier#nico fic recs#nico hischier one shot#nico hischier smut#new jersey devils#nh13#nhl blurb#nhl oneshot#nhl imagine#nhl fanfic#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl players#nhl#nhl hockey#hockey fic#devils hockey#hockey imagine#hockey#nj devils
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ᡴꪫ ⋆ GAME CATERERS X SVT ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── episode 2-1.
Game Caterers x SEVENTEEN
synopsis: Episode 2-1! After failing to eat because of the character quiz, the members of SEVENTEEN are given a chance to win prizes from PD Na’s ‘Super’ Store, they just have to answer more quizzes… and eat lemons (?)
hope this makes you guys smile even a little bit after the announcement of Jeonghan’s official enlistment date 🤍 everything will be fine, he’ll be back in no time!!!
╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST
╰౨ৎ fan reactions ╰ ౨ৎ game caterers masterlist
[added captions are in brackets] ᡣ𐭩
bold dialogues are spoken in english ᡣ𐭩
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the open field where the members of SEVENTEEN were taking their break. Some of them had retreated to the cool shade inside the green room, while others preferred to stretch their legs outside, taking in the fresh air. The quiet hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter filled the atmosphere, a stark contrast to the intense competition and energy of their earlier activities.
Near the basketball court, Mingyu, Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Luna, Mingaho, and S.Coups strolled leisurely, the rhythmic bounce of a basketball punctuating their casual banter. Mingyu dribbled the ball skillfully, tossing it back and forth with Jeonghan, while the rest watched with amused smiles, occasionally chiming in with playful remarks.
[SEVENTEEN is taking a break]
Not far away, Vernon, Joshua, and Hoshi lingered near PD Na and his team, who were busy setting up a new challenge. Their curious eyes followed every movement as the staff arranged a variety of items— a table, shelves filled with prizes of all kinds, from snacks and toys to more substantial rewards like food packages. The three members exchanged intrigued glances, trying to guess what the upcoming game might involve.
[Wild SEVENTEEN wanders around]
PD Na, the writers, and the rest of the production crew were focused on the task at hand, setting up the elaborate display. The scene was bustling with activity, yet there was an undercurrent of anticipation in the air, as if everyone, from the staff to the members, knew that something exciting was about to unfold.
[CARAT's enemies are doing something suspicious]
Suddenly, the familiar crackle of a megaphone broke through the quiet hum of the surroundings. From his place behind the makeshift prize table, PD Na’s voice rang out, amplified and clear. “SEVENTEEN, do you hear me?”
“Yes!” Vernon, Hoshi, and Joshua, who were already lingering near the table, replied in unison, their voices carrying across the field.
“The store is open for ten minutes. If you need anything, run and get what you need,” PD Na announced with a mischievous grin, knowing the chaos he was about to unleash.
“Yes!” the trio echoed once more, their excitement palpable.
On the other side of the field, Mingyu, Wonwoo, Minghao, S.Coups, Luna, and Jeonghan, who had been slowly making their way towards the action, exchanged knowing glances. The pace of their steps quickened as they anticipated what was coming next.
“It’s first come, first serve,” PD Na added, the challenge now fully set.
The second those words left his mouth, Hoshi, Vernon, and Joshua, who had been hovering near the front, bolted forward, pushing their way to the prize table with a newfound urgency— Vernon placing first, Hoshi placing second, while Joshua was third.
[Somehow they placed 1st and 2nd and 3rd]
Their sudden sprint caught the attention of Dokyeom, who finally made his appearance on the field, his eyes widening as he realized what was happening before placing himself behind Joshua. Meanwhile, Mingyu remained calm, his tall frame allowing him to maintain a leisurely stride as he continued typing on his phone. The benefits of being the tallest in the group meant that he could easily cover the distance in just a few strides.
Behind him, Luna, ever the playful one, decided to take matters into her own hands. With a burst of energy, she jogged up behind Wonwoo, who was just ahead of her, and leaped onto his back. Wonwoo, more than accustomed to her antics, didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed onto her legs, securing her as he broke into a run, his laughter mixing with hers.
“What?” S.Coups asked, already running.
“First come, first server.” PD Na repeated.
Jeonghan and Minghao, not ones to be left behind, also picked up their pace, running toward the prize table, determined to snag the best items before the others. All the while, Mingyu remained unhurried, his attention split between his phone and the scene unfolding before him. His relaxed demeanor was a stark contrast to the frantic energy of the others before he placed himself behind Minghao.
[11 people arrived in no time]
One by one, the rest of the group started trickling in, each one more eager than the last to see what was happening. Seungkwan, who had just emerged from the green room, immediately sensed the buzz in the air. His eyes widened in excitement and slight panic as he hurriedly jogged over to the gathering crowd. "What's going on? Carbo Buldak? What?" he asked, his voice laced with urgency as he tried to get the inside scoop while still catching up.
[All 14 including Dino are here]
Dino, right on Seungkwan’s heels, placed himself at the very end of the line. As he surveyed the lineup in front of him, he asked, “Am I last?”
“I think so,” Seungkwan confirmed, his tone resigned yet still full of curiosity about what awaited them.
['Super' Store opens]
The members have now lined up in front of PD Na’s table in this order: Vernon, Hoshi, Joshua, Dokyeom, Jun, Wonwoo, Luna, S.Coups, Jeonghan, Minghao, Mingyu, Woozi, Seungkwan, and Dino. The line stretched across the field, each member craning their neck to get a better look at what was in store for them.
In front of them, PD Na stood behind a table labeled ��Super Store,’ his expression one of playful authority. On the table sat a large container filled with folded papers, clearly the key to whatever missions they would face. Next to it, a bowl filled with slices of lemons gleamed ominously in the sunlight. Beside the table were shelves packed with various prizes, ranging from snacks and food to more luxurious appliances and toys, all meticulously arranged to entice the members.
[Starting with general items from the department store]
“We prepared various stuff. If you don’t need anything, you can go rest. If there’s anything you want, pick one mission and succeed in it,” PD Na explained, his voice carrying over the members’ heads as they all leaned in, listening intently.
The members at the back of the line peeked out from their positions, trying to catch a glimpse of the setup. A collective “Ooooh” of excitement rippled through the group as they began to understand the challenge before them.
“Vernon, what would you like?” PD Na asked, starting with the member at the front of the line.
“The luxury tea set,” Vernon answered, gesturing toward the pristine set displayed on the shelf.
“That’s three stars. That’s the price. If you fail, it’s three pieces of lemon,” PD Na explained, finally revealing the purpose of the lemon slices, which had been a source of mystery and apprehension among the members.
[If they fail the mission, they need to pay]
[Have as many lemons as the # of stars on the item you chose]
As realization dawned, the group reacted with a mix of dread and amusement. “It’s one piece of lemon for each star,” Hoshi explained to those at the back of the line, his voice carrying a slight hint of amusement.
[Items in various prices are available]
“But I can’t eat any lemons,” S.Coups groaned, already imagining the sour torture that might await him.
“I can eat lemons no problem,” Jun chimed in confidently, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I love lemons,” Luna declared from her spot behind Wonwoo. She had finally dismounted from his back, now standing on her own two feet but still surrounded by her best friends. S.Coups, who was directly behind her, casually wrapped his arms around her neck, leaning in close, his face right next to hers.
“That’s right. What makes you like it? I can’t— just thinking about it makes my mouth water,” S.Coups confessed, his voice low and close to Luna’s ear.
“It tastes clean,” Luna deadpanned, her tone serious despite the oddity of her statement.
[What?]
S.Coups burst into laughter, unable to contain himself. “What are you talking about?”
“Like air fresheners… you know… clean?” Luna giggled as she tried to explain, her logic making perfect sense in her head even if it sounded absurd out loud.
S.Coups, still laughing, nudged the side of her face with his forehead, his amusement clear. “Have you tasted air fresheners?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
“No. But the smell… it’s clean and lemony,” Luna insisted, bringing her hands up to gesture as she spoke, her eyes wide with sincerity.
[Effects of not eating lunch]
S.Coups just shook his head, still chuckling. “Alright,” he said, letting it go but clearly entertained by the entire exchange.
As the excitement around the ‘Super’ Store grew, PD Na addressed the gathered members with a broad grin, “Is there anything you want?”
“Yes!” they chorused, voices overlapping in eagerness as the members in the back shifted to the sides, trying to get a closer look at the prizes. Their collective enthusiasm was palpable, each member already eyeing what they might want to claim.
“Joshua, what do you want?” PD Na asked, directing his attention to Joshua, who stood near the front of the line.
“I want the Dyson hair dryer,” Joshua responded confidently, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of getting his hands on such a coveted item.
Before Joshua’s words had fully settled, both Luna and Seungkwan exclaimed in unison, “That’s mine!”
“I was eyeing it too,” Hoshi added, his tone a mix of playful rivalry and genuine desire.
PD Na, sensing the brewing competition, chuckled and added fuel to the fire. “You might want the same item. The person who takes it first gets to keep it.”
“It’s first come, first serve,” Dokyeom reiterated, the rules sinking in as Luna pouted, her chances of snagging the hair dryer seemingly dwindling with every second. She knew that with her position in the middle of the line, one of the members at the front would likely snatch it up before she had a chance.
“What do you want?” Minghao asked him, his curiosity piqued by Mingyu’s interest.
“The golf club,” Mingyu said without hesitation, his eyes locking onto the sleek set displayed prominently.
“I’m taking it,” Wonwoo interjected, a hint of challenge in his voice.
“Aigo,” Luna teased Mingyu, giggling to herself. The playful exchange between the members was as much a part of the game as the prizes themselves. She couldn’t resist poking fun at Mingyu, her laughter light and infectious.
Mingyu turned to give her a look— a mix of mock annoyance and amusement that only deepened her giggles. She playfully avoided eye contact, her gaze darting around the field as if suddenly interested in anything but him. The act was enough to draw laughter from Wonwoo, who pointed at Luna, enjoying the little moment as much as S.Coups and Jeonghan, who were both chuckling along.
Woozi, ever the practical one, casually stepped away from his spot in the line and settled into one of the chairs set up to the side. He crossed his arms and leaned back, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed the lively scene before him. “I should watch first,” he said, his voice calm and unhurried.
PD Na, noticing Woozi’s retreat, called out with a hint of curiosity, “Woozi, are you giving up?”
Woozi shook his head, still relaxed in his seat. “I’m not materialistic. I’m going to watch first,” he explained with a nonchalant wave of his hand, signaling that he was content to sit back and let the others scramble.
“You want to watch first and join later?” PD Na pressed, intrigued by Woozi’s strategy.
“Yes,” Woozi confirmed, giving a slight nod. The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, drew a few chuckles from the staff nearby.
As Woozi declared his lack of materialism, the rest of the members were anything but. They were all busy eyeing the prizes, their heads bent together as they muttered among themselves, assessing their options and plotting their next moves.
[Some members are more materialistic than others]
PD Na turned his attention to Dino, who was at the end of the line, seemingly less intense in his desire for a prize. “Dino, do you want the razors?” PD Na asked a playful edge in his voice.
Dino glanced at the razor set and then back at PD Na, a confident grin spreading across his face. “I think no one’s going to take it. That’s mine for sure,” he said, the certainty in his tone making the others laugh.
“How many blades?” Seungkwan asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he moved over to inspect the razors, Dino following close behind. “This is bad. It’s three blades,” Seungkwan reported with mock seriousness, his brow furrowing as he considered the implications.
“Then he won’t take it,” Jeonghan teased from his spot in line, a knowing smile on his face.
“He uses five blades or more,” Seungkwan added the mock concern in his voice causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the group.
“He’ll choose the alcohol instead. Watch.” Luna said, brushing the hair that was flying on her face because of the wind.
“Then I’ll take Chamisul,” Dino decided with a shrug, his choice of alcohol over razors eliciting even more laughter from his members.
[He's firm]
“See?” Luna said.
[And she’s right]
“All he needs is alcohol and a razor,” Wonwoo quipped, shaking his head in amusement at Dino’s simple yet perfectly logical desires.
[Dino's going through adolescence]
As the members continued to debate and joke about their prize choices, Minghao took a deep breath, his eyes sweeping over the clear blue sky. “It’s nice weather. This is what you call a gift,” he commented, his voice reflective as he enjoyed the cool breeze that had settled over the field.
Jeonghan, hearing Minghao’s philosophical take on the situation, scoffed out a laugh, finding the whole moment— filled with both lighthearted banter and genuine appreciation— hilarious and somehow quintessentially very on-brand.
[‘Super' Store's first customer is Vernon]
Vernon, who stood first in line, stared at the array of folded papers on the table in front of him. Among the mostly white slips, a lone pink paper caught his eye. His curiosity piqued, and with a small furrow in his brow, he asked, “There’s only one pink. Is that a special mission?”
PD Na leaned over the table, arms crossed, his face betraying nothing. “You never know,” he said cryptically, “You have to see it for yourself.”
S.Coups, standing further back in the line, craned his neck to peek over Vernon’s shoulder, instantly egging him on. “Vernon, choose pink!” His encouragement sparked a ripple effect, and soon the other members joined in, playfully urging Vernon to take the mysterious pink slip.
Luna, however, scrunched her nose in doubt. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she muttered, her tone wary but still lighthearted.
Vernon’s lips twitched into a curious smile. “I’m curious,” he admitted, his hand hovering above the papers for a moment before decisively picking the pink one. He handed it over to PD Na with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
[He picks the one and only pink mission]
PD Na unfolded the paper slowly, teasing out the suspense, before revealing its contents. He raised an eyebrow and announced, “Vernon’s special item... it's a dud.”
Vernon’s eyes widened in shock as PD Na showed him the slip, confirming his misfortune. The nearest members— Hoshi and Joshua— burst into laughter at his defeat, their teasing louder than the rest.
“That was so obvious,” PD Na teased, shaking his head. “Go to the end of the line.”
Vernon, still processing what had just happened, walked to the back of the line in disbelief. “What did you do?” Jeonghan asked with a chuckle, watching Vernon as he passed.
[He didn't do anything]
“It’s just a dud,” Vernon answered, his voice dazed as he fell into place at the end of the line.
“Told you,” Luna muttered, leaning against Wonwoo and absentmindedly tapping his back like a drum, her smug expression barely contained.
Next up was Hoshi. With a determined gleam in his eye, he confidently selected his mission paper and breezed through the quiz, securing his prize— the coveted Dyson hair dryer. His victory crushed both Luna and Seungkwan’s chances, the two of them deflating in mock despair.
“But that’s mine!” Seungkwan groaned, his eyes following the sleek dryer as it moved out of reach.
Joshua, however, fared just as well as Hoshi. He nailed his mission with ease and chose a box of alcohol as his prize, earning cheers from the others.
[Joshua who also lost the Dyson, purchases a box of Chamisul to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth]
Next up was Dokyeom, whose usual sunny disposition remained intact as he picked his mission. To everyone’s delight, he passed with flying colors and beamed as he reached for his chosen prize— a bunny plushie from ‘Earth Arcade’.
[Next customer is Jun]
As Jun approached the table, he confidently selected his prize— bathroom slippers— without a second thought.
PD Na, looking somewhat surprised, commented, "I mean, this isn’t what I expected at all." He chuckled, realizing that three members had successfully claimed prizes consecutively.
Jun, unbothered, shrugged. "I'm not good at games," he admitted, though his face showed determination.
PD Na unfolded the mission paper and asked, "Do you think you can do this?"
“What?” Jun blinked, unsure of what the task was until PD Na revealed the slip, reading aloud, "Lift the soccer ball more than ten times."
Immediately, the reactions from the members came flooding in. Wonwoo burst out laughing, while Jeonghan exclaimed, "Wow," and Luna, with a laugh of her own, said, "It’s too windy."
And she wasn’t wrong. The wind had picked up considerably, making their hair whip around wildly. Jun’s hoodie flapped in the breeze as S.Coups, standing behind Luna, found himself getting a faceful of her hair. Chuckling, he gently patted her hair down, trying to tame it.
"He can never do it." Woozi declared from his seat, shaking his head.
“You’re guaranteed to get a lemon,” Dokyeom teased, while Woozi added, "You can bet all the prizes."
Jun’s expression shifted into something more comical as he started practicing different movements. “What do I do?” he asked aloud, testing whether to use his knee or foot to lift the ball. His exaggerated movements had the group in stitches.
"He’s really bad with a ball," Dokyeom commented, half-laughing, half-groaning.
[Do all you can to kick it 10 times]
"As long as you don’t use your hands," Mingyu explained, grinning, as Jun gingerly picked up the soccer ball. But instead of following through with the proper kick-up technique, Jun placed the ball on his hoodie and began bouncing it like it was a trampoline.
[What are you doing?]
“That’s not going to work,” PD Na remarked, grinning.
[You got the wrong place]
“This isn’t ‘Going Seventeen’,” Jeonghan chuckled knowing that they had more freedom to cheat in any way they desired in their own show.
[Translation: That's what they do on 'Going Seventeen’]
Wonwoo joined in, laughing. "If this were ‘Going Seventeen’, we would have done that."
“Try it like this. Believe in yourself.” Seungkwan chimed from the side.
“It’s okay even if you can’t do it.” Jeonghan said.
“Fighting!” Luna said.
[The world thinks SEVENTEEN is athletic]
[But that's not true]
Jun finally readied himself, positioning the ball correctly. The members watched closely, all eyes on him as they began counting aloud, “1…”
But before anyone could even get to two, the ball rolled off Jun’s foot, falling to the ground immediately. The group exploded into laughter as Vernon clapped enthusiastically from the back.
[Failed just as expected]
“You’re terrible,” Mingyu teased, unable to hide his grin.
Jun, laughing at his own failure, shrugged and walked over to the other side where PD Na stood waiting with the inevitable lemons. “You like lemons.” S.Coups teased, still amused.
[The 1st customer to eat the lemon]
Jun laughed as he accepted his fate, preparing to eat the lemons as he sat down next to Woozi as the game went on.
[Next is Wonwoo]
Wonwoo stepped up next, his eyes set on the shelf. “I want the golf club,” he said firmly.
[The big spender]
PD Na looked intrigued and gestured towards it. “Why don’t you try it out first?”
Wonwoo smiled but clarified, “It’s not for me. My dad just started playing golf.”
As he made his way toward the golf club and lifted it, Luna let out a soft, “Cute.”
“He’s a good son,” S.Coups added, watching with an approving smile.
[He plans to give it to his father if he succeeds]
Mingyu examined the club from a distance and nodded, “It’s a nice club.”
“My dad started playing,” Wonwoo repeated proudly, clearly thinking of giving it to him.
PD Na then asked, “Anyone else here play golf?”
Immediately, S.Coups and Mingyu raised their hands, while Luna playfully pointed at Jeonghan, who had his hands tucked in his pockets behind her. Wonwoo and Minghao also gestured to the three, highlighting their golfing experience.
PD Na, noticing the others, chuckled and told Wonwoo. “People in the back are glaring at you.”
Mingyu, always quick to tease, grinned, “Have four pieces of lemon.”
Before Wonwoo could respond, Luna shot back at Mingyu, grinning, “Leave him alone. Buy your own golf club.”
Mingyu pouted at her remark, while the others— Jeonghan, S.Coups, Wonwoo, and even PD Na— laughed, amused at Luna’s quick wit.
Wonwoo, having eyed the prizes with a steely determination, finally turned his attention to the folded papers. With a steady hand, he picked one and handed it over to PD Na, who unfurled it with a sly smile.
[Will he get to be a good son?]
"It's the Forehead Quiz," PD Na announced, holding up the slip for everyone to see.
Immediately, Mingyu perked up with curiosity. "Is it new?" he asked.
"It's new," PD Na confirmed, glancing around at the group. "You’ll have to identify your members by just their foreheads. Guess whose it is."
The members let out a collective sound of surprise and amusement. "I might have a chance," S.Coups said, cracking a grin.
Luna, always ready with a playful quip, peeked over Wonwoo’s shoulder, her chin barely resting on him. "It’ll be easy if you get me," she teased, her laughter bubbling up.
[Only female member]
Wonwoo chuckled softly, "That's true."
But Luna wasn't done. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she whispered to him, "I don’t think he’ll give you me, though. That’d be too easy."
Despite her playful demeanor, Wonwoo seemed uncertain. "I'm not great at remembering appearances," he admitted with a shrug.
Beside PD Na, one of the writers began preparing four slices of lemon into a cup, just in case Wonwoo failed. Jeonghan couldn’t resist laughing at the sight. "There are four already," he teased, his voice light with amusement.
"Alright," PD Na interjected, ready to start the game. "Guess who it is among your members."
Wonwoo steeled himself for the challenge as PD Na reached beneath the table to reveal the first picture.
"Don’t tell him." PD Na warned the rest of the members, who were now gathered around Wonwoo, their eyes wide with curiosity.
“No one's going to tell him.” S.Coups declared, a grin pulling at his lips. "We all want the golf club."
As S.Coups said this, Jeonghan silently gestured toward Luna, who was still close to Wonwoo, her proximity implying she could easily help him out. She didn’t care about the golf club, after all.
[Spotted their target]
Before Luna could take advantage of the moment, S.Coups gently wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him with a soft tug. She shot him a look, just about to protest, but Jeonghan was quicker. He covered her mouth with his hand, stifling any attempt she might make to give Wonwoo the answer. Luna turned her head and glared playfully at the notorious game cheater, knowing she'd been defeated this time. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she accepted her fate, her gaze bouncing between Jeonghan and S.Coups.
[Cheaters vs. Cheaters]
PD Na finally held up the photo, which is a close-up of a forehead. "1, 2, 3," he counted down counted down.
[Handsome forehead]
"Mingyu," Wonwoo answered immediately, without a moment of hesitation.
They all went silent for a split second, the shock palpable. Even Mingyu blinked in surprise, “Wow. That’s me.” he said in disbelief.
Luna, still holding Jeonghan’s hand to her mouth, managed to pull it down but continued to grip it, eyes still on the photo. "He’s right," she confirmed, her voice laced with disbelief. She turned toward Wonwoo, impressed. "You got it."
PD Na’s voice rang through the air as he announced, "Correct!" The simple word echoed, followed by a brief pause before the group erupted. Wonwoo, not one for wild celebrations, still raised both his hands in victory, grinning broadly as he said, “Yay!” His subtle but satisfied response only made the situation more amusing, while the rest of the group marveled at his surprising success.
Dokyeom joined in with his usual animated energy, gesturing toward the photo. "That looks like S.Coups," he said, still convinced it wasn't Mingyu’s forehead after all.
Jeonghan, always keen on stirring the pot, quickly backed up Dokyeom’s observation. "I thought that was S.Coups too."
But Luna shook her head, determined as ever. "No. It's totally Mingyu," she argued, standing her ground.
[Seventeen can recognize each other just from seeing the forehead]
As Wonwoo stood there processing his correct guess, he offered an explanation, voice calm but amused. "I thought that was either S.Coups or Mingyu."
"I thought it was S.Coups from the eyebrows," Jeonghan added, his usual sharp tone now laced with a hint of curiosity.
PD Na, still processing the unexpected turn of events, pulled out the full picture for the final reveal. He unfolded it slowly, drawing out the suspense before finally showing the entire face, confirming that it was, indeed, Mingyu.
Wonwoo, still stunned by his successful guess, clapped his hands together. "Wow. How did I get it?" he asked, half-joking but genuinely shocked by his good fortune.
Jeonghan and Luna, standing nearby, simultaneously congratulated him, both saying, “Congratulations!” in unison. Their shared response, so perfectly timed, made them laugh, as it often happened between the two of them.
Without wasting another second, Wonwoo made his way toward the prize table. His eyes lit up with satisfaction as he reached for the golf club— the very item he’d had his sights set on from the start. The moment his hand wrapped around the handle, Mingyu couldn’t resist adding his own brand of commentary.
[Wonwoo wins the golf club]
“He’s handsome. He’s good-looking,” Mingyu said, his tone dripping with playful self-praise as he pointed to the photo of his forehead. His compliments earned a hearty laugh from PD Na, who shook his head at the shamelessness of it all.
As the rest of the members watched Wonwoo stand there with the golf club, Mingyu’s teasing voice cut through the murmurs of amusement. "That's not durable enough for your father," he said, feigning concern but with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
The moment Mingyu said it, Jeonghan and S.Coups immediately jumped in with synchronized agreement. “He can’t play with that,” they both chimed in, gesturing toward Wonwoo and the club. Their antics were met with laughter, their playful gestures signaling for Wonwoo to put the club back.
Luna, standing to the side, shook her head at their constant teasing, chuckling softly. "Ya, you guys are something else," she said, voice light with amusement, a smile tugging at her lips.
[Sympathetic bunny]
In his usual calm and unbothered manner, Wonwoo merely shrugged, offering an innocent response. “I’ll let him decide,” he said, his genuine tone making the group laugh again.
[He really cares about his father]
Wonwoo, seemingly unaffected by all the teasing, made his way toward the winners’ area and took a seat next to Woozi, who glanced at the golf club before offering some advice. "If your father doesn’t like it, sell it to them," Woozi said, a mischievous glint in his eye as he gestured toward Jeonghan, Mingyu, and S.Coups.
A thoughtful expression crossed Wonwoo’s face before he nodded. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed.
[The next customer is bunny no. 1]
It was finally Luna’s turn, and she stepped forward with a determined look, her eyes sweeping over the prizes on display. Almost immediately, her gaze landed on the three boxes of Lego sets displayed in all their intricate glory. Her eyes twinkled with excitement; it was no secret to her members that she had an obsession with Legos, and one particular set caught her eye. She pointed toward the box she wanted, the Disney Castle, its grandeur sparking an obvious desire.
“I want the Lego— the Disney Castle,” Luna declared, her voice brimming with a mix of excitement and longing.
[Another big spender]
From behind S.Coups, Jeonghan leaned forward, an amused grin spreading across his face as he took in her choice. “You don’t have that one yet,” he acknowledged, his teasing tone light but sincere, watching her with a knowing smile.
Luna hummed in confirmation, giving him a small nod as she swirled her hand around the bucket of folded papers. Her fingers danced over each one before she selected a slip, pulling it out with anticipation. Handing it to PD Na, she awaited her fate. PD Na opened the slip, quickly scanning the words before turning to Luna, mock sympathy playing across his features. “Aigoo, can you do this?” he asked, his tone laced with exaggerated concern.
Luna blinked, confusion knitting her brows together. “What?” she asked, slightly wary.
“Times table,” PD Na announced, holding up the paper for everyone to see. The words seemed to hang in the air, and Luna’s jaw dropped slightly as she stared at it, the realization dawning on her.
The members around her exploded in various reactions— some shocked, others cheering her on. S.Coups and Dokyeom laughed while Wonwoo nodded in encouragement. Hoshi could barely contain his amusement, clapping his hands as he rocked back and forth.
“You can do it,” Jeonghan encouraged from his spot, his voice soft but supportive.
Luna raised an eyebrow in disbelief, shaking her head slightly as she deadpanned, “Wow. They got fun little quizzes and games, and once it got to me, it’s math all of a sudden.” Her tone was dry and unimpressed, her sarcastic remark making the entire group laugh heartily, even PD Na couldn’t hide his chuckle.
[She hates math the absolute most]
“You can do it. You’re good at math,” Wonwoo commented from his seat, offering his usual calm reassurance.
PD Na smiled at her before picking up a card from the writer beside him. “Alright. I’ll give you a question, and you must answer within three seconds,” he explained, his voice taking on the serious tone of a quizmaster.
“Are you ready?” he asked, locking eyes with her.
“Yes,” Luna said, taking a deep breath, her face focused as she prepared herself.
PD Na barely glanced at the card before he announced, “17 x 17.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Luna answered confidently, “289,” without hesitation, her voice cutting through the silence like a sharp knife.
A stunned silence followed, everyone too shocked to react immediately. Even PD Na looked momentarily taken aback before finally finding his voice. “Correct!” he exclaimed, raising his hand to applaud her quick thinking.
[She is somehow good at the thing she hates]
The members erupted into cheers, all in amazement at her swift and accurate answer. Their reactions were a mixture of awe and admiration, as compliments echoed through the group.
“She’s smart!” S.Coups exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Wow, she’s amazing,” Hoshi added, his voice filled with respect as he clapped excitedly.
Jeonghan, standing close by, decided to make it official. “Clap!” he announced dramatically, waving his hand toward the others as if commanding them to celebrate her victory properly. The entire group burst into a round of enthusiastic applause, their hands coming together in a loud, appreciative chorus.
Luna’s face lit up with a smile, her confidence shining through as she skipped her way over to the prize table. Her eyes locked on the box of Lego she had chosen earlier— the Disney Castle. She pulled it toward her, wrapping her arms around it in a tight hug, grinning widely as the excitement bubbled up inside her.
[Wins a prize on her first try]
“Yay!” she cheered, her voice sweet and triumphant as she made her way toward the right side of the area, where the winners were sitting and watching with their prizes. The massive box was almost comically large against her petite frame, but Luna didn’t seem to mind one bit. She had gotten exactly what she wanted, and the smile on her face told everyone that this small victory was enough to make her day.
After Luna had made her triumphant skip back to her seat with her coveted Lego set, the focus shifted to the next contestant— S.Coups. His eyes scanned over the prizes, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he sized up the options. After a moment of deliberation, he made his choice, eyes locking onto one of the more understated prizes.
"I’ll take the golf balls," S.Coups declared, pointing at the sleek box on display.
Jeonghan, who was still watching the proceedings closely, commented with an appreciative nod. “I like how they have all our logos on them,” he said, inspecting the design from a distance. His tone had that casual admiration that often came when something caught his eye.
[There are logos from every album]
S.Coups grinned, clearly satisfied with his choice. “I can’t use them anyway,” he admitted with a laugh, glancing over his shoulder at the other members. “I’m going to put them on display at home.”
PD Na, who had been rifling through his question cards, interrupted their banter with a slightly ominous tone. “It’s another 4-star question,” he said, emphasizing the difficulty level, making a few members wince in sympathy.
S.Coups shifted nervously, rubbing his hands together. “I can’t eat lemons, what do I do?” he muttered, half to himself.
Without missing a beat, Mingyu chimed in from his spot in line, “Just eat the lemons,” his teasing tone prompting light laughter from the members.
PD Na unfolded the paper that S.Coups had handed him and, with an enthusiastic flourish, announced, “It’s the Capital Quiz!”
The disbelief on S.Coups’ face was immediate and palpable. “Oh, I don’t know anything,” he said, his voice tinged with panic.
“You’re out,” Mingyu teased, peeking out from his spot with a mischievous grin.
Woozi joined in, shaking his head. “He can never get it,” he said with confidence.
“He can never do it,” Joshua added, his eyes gleaming with playful anticipation.
Dokyeom, laughing from beside Luna, added his own cheeky input, “Enjoy the lemon.”
PD Na, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, turned to the rest of the group. “Do you all know each other's weaknesses?” he asked, clearly already knowing the answer.
“Oh, of course,” they replied in unison, nodding with mock solemnity.
PD Na chuckled, then turned back to S.Coups with a pitying look. “I’ll make it easy for you,” he said, his voice full of exaggerated empathy as he readied the question. “What’s the capital city of Indonesia?”
Without thinking, S.Coups blurted out, “Kuala Lumpur.”
There was a beat of silence before Jeonghan, standing behind him, gently shoved him in disbelief. “Jakarta!” he scolded, his voice brimming with disappointment.
Mingyu shook his head, equally exasperated. “You’ve been there so many times before. We had a concert tour there!” he added his tone a mix of amusement and disappointment.
From where she sat, Luna, her head leaning comfortably on Dokyeom’s shoulder, chimed in, her voice laced with dry amusement, “He gave him an easy one.” Dokyeom, unable to contain his laughter, doubled over, his whole body shaking with mirth.
“Jakartan CARATs are going to cry,” Dokyeom said, shaking his head at S.Coups.
Hoshi, who had been thinking aloud, turned to the others. “Wasn’t Jakarta the last stop for ‘Be The Sun’?” he asked, glancing at Wonwoo, who nodded in confirmation.
“Indonesian CARATs…” Seungkwan trailed off before being cut off by Mingyu.
Mingyu nudged S.Coups in the arm, pointing toward the camera. “You need to apologize.”
With a resigned sigh, S.Coups turned toward the camera, looking genuinely remorseful. “Dear Jakartan CARATs, I’m sorry,” he said with a small wave of his hand.
As he headed over to the seats with his cup of lemons, S.Coups muttered under his breath, “Gosh, I can’t eat any lemon,” already dreading the sourness. He picked one up hesitantly, eyeing it as if it were his mortal enemy, and finally bit into it. The reaction was immediate. His face scrunched up in distaste, and he flinched at the overwhelming sourness. “I’m crying,” he exclaimed, his voice filled with exaggerated misery.
Watching him struggle, Luna’s expression softened. She extended her hand toward him, offering a bit of comfort. “We’ll share it,” she said with a gentle smile.
S.Coups looked at her in disbelief. “Really?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope.
Luna simply nodded, still holding out her hand. With no hesitation, S.Coups handed her one of the lemon slices from his cup. “Give me two,” she said with a grin. “You can have the last two.”
[Bunny no. 1 hates math but loves lemons]
He handed her another slice, chuckling despite himself. “I love you,” he said in mock sincerity, clearly grateful for the gesture.
Luna chuckled as well, easily biting into the lemon without flinching. “Love you too,” she muttered, her attention already drifting back to the game as she continued to watch the rest of the members with amusement.
With S.Coups recovering from the tart aftermath of the lemons, it was Jeonghan’s turn next. He stepped forward, surveying the prizes, his sharp gaze settling on the golf ball set that had been catching the attention of many. "I'll try the golf ball set," he said decisively, pointing toward it.
PD Na looked up with a hint of curiosity. "The golf balls?" he asked, seeking confirmation.
"Yes," Jeonghan responded with a nod. But as he prepared to commit to his choice, a flicker of longing crossed his face as remembered the Dyson, a prize he had been eyeing earlier. His usual mischievous glint returned as he swept his long hair back with a practiced flick of his hand. "Gosh, Dyson. I'm so jealous," he mused aloud, almost wistfully.
This moment of honesty didn’t escape Mingyu, who, ever the opportunist, saw it as his chance for some playful negotiation. "Can I steal Dyson for eight pieces of lemon?" he asked PD Na with a grin, making the entire group laugh, including PD Na.
[What a brilliant idea]
While everyone enjoyed Mingyu’s antics, his attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere. Turning toward the left, Mingyu’s eyes lit up, and with genuine awe in his voice, he commented, "Wow, you two look so cool." His words immediately piqued the curiosity of the others, and one by one, the members shifted their gaze in the same direction. Their playful exclamations of amazement followed as they saw both Luna and Hoshi seated comfortably on the clean, trimmed grass. With their prizes neatly arranged in front of them, the two were a picture of relaxation and quiet contentment, watching the proceedings from a distance.
[Jealous] [The winners are laid back]
"It's awesome," Hoshi chimed in playfully, squinting up at the sun before dramatically lifting his head toward the sky. The way he soaked in the sun made Luna burst out laughing, her head tipping back as she joined in on the silliness.
[Joshua joins them with Chamisul]
Not to be left out of the peaceful scene, Joshua strolled over, the box of alcohol he had won still in hand. Without a word, he placed the box down, using it as an impromptu seat as he settled beside them. Hoshi, embracing the lazy atmosphere, laid his head on top of the Dyson he had proudly won.
Luna, ever playful, followed suit, lying down as well, but in her own style. With a teasing smile, she positioned herself so her head rested on Hoshi's stomach, closing her eyes for added comfort. The group marveled at how serene the three of them looked.
“I’ve never won anything like this before,” Joshua admitted, his tone light but with a hint of amazement as he glanced at the prizes.
“Me too,” Luna and Hoshi echoed in unison, their voices harmonizing as they basked in the feeling of victory.
"Dyson is nice," Hoshi added, his voice laced with satisfaction.
As the playful banter from Hoshi, Luna, and Joshua echoed softly in the background, Jeonghan stood up from his spot, walking confidently toward the table. His eyes scanned the bucket of folded paper slips for a moment, and with a swift motion, he plucked one from the pile.
With the slip in hand, he approached PD Na and handed it over, his casual demeanor only adding to the anticipation. PD Na opened the paper, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face before he made the announcement. "It's Commercial Relay," he declared, raising an eyebrow.
Jeonghan’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Commercial Relay?" he repeated, more to himself, his tone shocked and uncertain.
From the back, Seungkwan, ever the playful commentator, called out with no hesitation, “He can never do it!” His words sent ripples of laughter through the group.
Luna, still lying comfortably across Hoshi’s stomach, her fingers lazily tracing shapes in the air, tilted her head up just slightly and chimed in. “That’s your major, Han,” she reminded him with a small smile.
Seungkwan suddenly turned towards Luna, a look of realization dawning on his face as he pointed at her dramatically. "He majored in commercial production," he exclaimed as if he had just remembered something important, the excitement of his discovery clear in his voice.
PD Na, who had been caught off guard by this little revelation, turned to Jeonghan with a questioning look. "Is that your major?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.
Jeonghan, ever the smooth talker, nodded. “I majored in commercial production," he confirmed, though a mischievous smirk soon followed. "But I don’t watch TV, so…” he trailed off with a chuckle, shrugging nonchalantly.
There was a brief pause, the group hanging on PD Na’s next words as he prepared the cue card, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth. “Alright, finish the phrase," PD Na instructed, ready to test Jeonghan’s knowledge. "'Everyone…'"
Without missing a beat, Jeonghan threw his arms up in mock enthusiasm and shouted brightly, “‘Hello!’” His exaggerated confidence and the completely wrong answer sent the entire group into fits of laughter.
From the back, Seungkwan let out an exaggerated groan, “What?” he scolded playfully, his disappointment palpable as the rest of them continued to laugh.
PD Na grinned widely, shaking his head. “Wrong!” he declared with glee, enjoying the light-hearted atmosphere.
S.Coups, still reeling from the effects of eating a lemon was the first to chime in. “Isn’t it ‘Watch out for cold’?” he guessed, his brows furrowed in thought.
Seungkwan, ever the knowledgeable one, shook his head confidently. “It’s ‘Hope you become rich,’” he stated, clearly pleased with himself for knowing the correct answer.
[Only Seungkwan got it]
Jeonghan, still chuckling at his own mistake, looked around at the members, completely unbothered by his blunder. "Is it not ‘Hello’?" he asked with a laugh, repeating his cheerful action one more time for emphasis.
[Jeonghan's too polite] [Take your lemon]
As PD Na handed Jeonghan his inevitable cup of lemons, Luna, still lounging on Hoshi, couldn’t help but comment. “You’re cute,” she said with a small smile, watching him with an affectionate glint in her eye.
In response, Jeonghan sent her a quick, playful wink before moving to sit down beside Woozi and S.Coups, the cup of lemons in hand. Looking over at S.Coups, Jeonghan leaned in and asked with curiosity, “S.Coups, did you finish yours?” referring to the dreaded lemons.
S.Coups, still struggling with the remnants of his own lemon punishment, looked up at Jeonghan and sighed dramatically. “I had one so far,” he admitted, though his expression turned fond as he added, “Jiyeonie ate two of mine.”
[He had 1 out of 4]
The atmosphere on the trimmed grass was light and relaxed as Luna, Joshua, and Hoshi continued to bask in their small victories. They had comfortably claimed a corner, their winnings neatly arranged in front of them, the warm sunlight gently enveloping them. A staff member, watching their contentment, approached the group and encouraged them, “You should try again.”
Joshua, ever the considerate one, glanced back at the line where several members stood empty-handed and replied, “A lot of them still have nothing.”
Jeonghan, having joined the others, turned to PD Na, his brow furrowed. "Do I have to finish this before I try again?" he asked, holding up his cup of lemons.
PD Na nodded with a grin. “If you finish it, you can try again,” he confirmed, clearly enjoying the challenge.
Luna, who had been casually watching from the grass, perked up. “Can we try again?” she asked one of the nearby staff members, and after a nod of approval, she smiled.
“Then I should try again,” Joshua said, stretching as he stood up. He glanced at Luna and Hoshi, who were still seated comfortably. “Do you want to go for it again?”
Without a word, both Luna and Hoshi stood in unison, a silent agreement passing between them as they walked back to the line, joining the other members still waiting their turn.
[They never said no]
Jeonghan, watching them, caught Hoshi’s eye. “Hoshi,” he called, holding up his cup, “can you help me with one?” He was referring to his lemons, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Sure,” Hoshi gladly accepted, popping one of the sour fruits into his mouth with ease.
[Sharing the penalty]
With Hoshi’s help, Jeonghan managed to finish his punishment. Relieved, he dusted off his hands and quickly moved to join the back of the line, positioning himself behind Luna as they waited for another chance to win a prize. The breeze carried with it a sense of ease, the mood growing softer with the afternoon sun.
Without a word, Jeonghan slowly reached out, his arms wrapping around Luna’s waist from behind, the soft material of his cardigan brushing against her. Instinctively, Luna leaned back into him, her hands rising to gently caress the fluffy sleeves of his sweater. The fabric felt comforting beneath her fingertips as she absentmindedly stroked the texture.
Jeonghan, playfully ducking his head down, nestled his face into the crook of her neck. His breath tickled her skin, causing Luna to smile faintly, her hand lifting to rake gently through his long, flowing hair. Their connection, quiet and intimate, went unnoticed by most — but for the cameras, it was a different story.
To the casual observer, and likely the cameras capturing the moment, it appeared to be nothing more than a sweet back hug shared between friends. Their long hair, tousled by the wind, cascaded around them, providing a veil of privacy. But hidden beneath that curtain of hair, Jeonghan was stealing quiet kisses on the sensitive skin of Luna’s neck, his lips brushing softly against her in a secret exchange only the two were aware of. The world around them seemed to pause, the rest of the members laughing and chatting while they remained in their quiet little world, waiting patiently for their turn again in the game, unaware of the silent intensity brewing between them.
[Next is Mingyu]
As the next round started, it was finally Mingyu’s turn to face the challenge. His face lit up with anticipation as PD Na drew out his mission slip and announced, “It’s a quiz on common sense.” Immediately, a wave of playful mockery erupted from the other members.
“He’s out! Wrong!” Seungkwan teased from behind, causing the others to chuckle.
“He’s out!” S.Coups added in mock seriousness, shaking his head as if Mingyu had already failed before the question had even been asked.
PD Na, recalling a past ‘HYBE’ special where Mingyu had been notoriously unlucky, laughed at the thought. “Yes, that’s right,” Seungkwan confirmed with a mischievous grin.
Mingyu nodded knowingly. “I went around four times in front of twenty to thirty ‘HYBE’ artists.”
[Taking his lemon in advance]
Seeing the mounting pressure, PD Na decided to give him a bit of a break. “Alright, I’ll give you an easy one. It’s a sample question,” he said, his tone lightening. The other members grew quiet as they waited for the question. “Name three symbols of ‘HYBE’.”
Mingyu answered confidently, “BTS, SEVENTEEN…” but before he could finish, PD Na interrupted.
“Wrong!” PD Na declared, cutting through Mingyu’s sentence.
Mingyu, accepting his fate with grace, simply shrugged and moved to the back of the line, his cup of lemons clutched in one hand.
“You should’ve said Bang Sihyuk and Han Sungsu,” Woozi commented with a knowing look, referring to the key figures who were instrumental in the creation of ‘HYBE’.
Jeonghan, now thoroughly confused, leaned over as Mingyu reached the back. “Why is it wrong?” he asked with a slight frown.
Seungkwan, ever the expert in clarifications, stepped in. “He probably meant what ‘HYBE’ stands for,” he said, watching Mingyu’s expression shift from understanding to exasperation.
Jeonghan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is there a meaning?” he asked, shocked at the thought.
Mingyu scratched the back of his head and tried to remember. “It’s like… encounter, exchange, and music or something.”
S.Coups chimed in, sounding uncertain. “The exchange of music or something.”
The group fell silent for a moment, digesting the idea, when Hoshi, curious as ever, turned to Jeonghan. “What are three symbols of ‘HYBE’?”
“I don’t know,” Jeonghan replied, his brow furrowed in thought as he shook his head.
Luna, who had been listening quietly from beside Jeonghan, added her own guess, “Isn’t it ‘We believe in music’ or something?”
PD Na, smiling at the members’ collective confusion, finally revealed the correct answer. “It’s connection, expansion, and relationships,” he said with authority.
A wave of realization swept over the group, as they all nodded, murmuring in agreement. “Ahhh…” the members said, drawing out their reaction in unison as they finally understood.
“Keep that in mind,” PD Na advised them with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement at their struggle.
Seungkwan, ever the comedian, turned to Mingyu with a playful grin. “We connected, expanded, and established a relationship,” he quipped, making the others burst into laughter as Mingyu shook his head, trying to hold back a smile.
[It's okay. Producer Na doesn't know the symbol of Full moon]
It was Seungkwan's turn, and he stepped up with the usual dramatic flair. His sharp eyes darted toward the prizes, particularly the $100 Shinsegae gift certificate, still unclaimed by anyone. He pointed at it with conviction, voice brimming with incredulity. “I don’t get why no one’s taking the $100 Shinsegae gift certificate. That’s the real deal.”
PD Na, who was already chuckling at Seungkwan’s enthusiasm, couldn't help but agree. “Yes, that’s the good stuff,” he said, smiling widely at Seungkwan's sensible yet overlooked choice.
Seungkwan, confident in his choice of prize, reached for the next slip of paper and handed it over to PD Na.
“A dud,” Jeonghan teased from the back, his arms still wrapped comfortably around Luna, who giggled as she swayed side to side with him. The relaxed and affectionate sway of their bodies mirrored the playful mood around them.
“A dud!” Dokyeom joined in, laughing as well, causing Seungkwan to shake his head, trying to stave off their playful taunts.
“No way, stop lying,” Seungkwan said, disbelief written across his face. His voice carried a mix of denial and slight nervousness, the anticipation of his result catching up with him.
PD Na smiled and flipped the paper over for Seungkwan to see, announcing, “It’s the sample bar exam question.”
Luna, always quick to hear, burst into laughter, her voice ringing clearly across the group. “It might as well be a dud!” she quipped, her words sending a ripple of laughter through the members.
Seungkwan stared at the paper in disbelief, still processing the difficulty of his challenge. Jeonghan, leaning more into Luna’s back, shook his head sympathetically. “That’s so hard,” he muttered, genuinely surprised.
“I got the easy one,” Hoshi chimed in with a grin, proud of his earlier luck.
“You have good luck, you get easy questions,” Luna nodded in agreement, her eyes still twinkling with amusement at Seungkwan’s misfortune.
“The lemons are ready,” Jun added, his comment aimed at reminding Seungkwan of the inevitable punishment awaiting him.
“Just eat it,” Woozi said dryly, gesturing toward the waiting cup of lemons, clearly enjoying the banter.
Accepting his fate, Seungkwan picked up the lemons and gave in with a sigh. “I’ll go as I eat it,” he said, already popping the first piece into his mouth as he braced himself for the inevitable failure. His exaggerated grimace as the sourness hit made the others laugh even harder.
PD Na, holding back his own laughter, decided to move on with the question. “Try listening,” he instructed, as he began reading aloud from the card. “The purpose of this law is to protect the stability of housing. It applies to the lease of all or part of residential buildings.”
S.Coups, trying to be helpful, added, “The answer is right there,” though his tone carried a note of userstanding.
PD Na continued, “It is also applied when the house on lease is used for a purpose other than residence. What is the name of this law? It’s eight syllables. The answer was in the question.”
Seungkwan, caught off guard by the complexity of the question, groaned. “The national lease… Geez,” he managed to say before trailing off in defeat. He slumped to the back of the line, his groan prompting another round of laughter from the members.
[Walking away]
“Wrong,” PD Na said, his tone light and teasing.
Mingyu, ever curious, asked, “What’s the answer?”
“Housing Lease Protection Act,” PD Na revealed, the answer clearly difficult for everyone.
[Next is Dino]
It was Dino’s turn, and he stepped up, eyes scanning the prize table for a moment before settling on what he wanted. “I’ll go for the razor,” he announced confidently, pointing at the shiny grooming kit on display.
[The perfect prize for him]
His choice earned a hearty laugh from PD Na, clearly amused by the practicality. “A good choice,” PD Na said, still smiling.
“I’m going to accept it,” Dino said with determination as PD Na opened the slip of paper he had chosen.
“It’s Word Relay,” PD Na announced, explaining the task to Dino. To help warm him up, he gave a sample question. “Name five dishes in a Chinese restaurant in five seconds.”
Dino barely hesitated before rattling off his list. “Black bean sauce noodles, spicy seafood noodles, sweet and sour pork, warm noodles, black bean sauce rice.”
“That's how you play,” PD Na said, impressed by how quickly Dino responded.
[That's what he should to do win the prize]
Seungkwan, however, had a nostalgic glint in his eye. “Your grandma used to run a Chinese restaurant,” he said.
Dino smiled, preparing himself for the challenge ahead. “Yeah, I lived in my grandma’s Chinese restaurant for eight years,” he confirmed, the pride in his voice evident.
PD Na moved things forward. “Alright, here we go. Name five celebrities with a four-syllable stage name.”
Dino's expression turned serious as he focused, searching his mind for answers. “S.Coups…” he started, but as he tried to think of the next name, his words trailed off.
From behind him, Jeonghan tried to help, shouting, “Huening Kai,” as a suggestion. Luna quickly followed with another, “Kang Daniel,” But Dino, too locked in his thoughts, didn’t register any of the assistance.
Time ran out, and PD Na’s voice came in swiftly. “Wrong!” he declared with a playful grin as the buzzer sounded. Dino let out a groan of defeat as he realized how close he had come.
“Oh, I’m good at this,” Seungkwan whined from the side, clearly disappointed he hadn’t gotten a shot at the challenge.
PD Na, trying to console Dino, said, “You know a lot of colleagues,” referring to the many names that Dino could have potentially listed. Still accepting his fate, Dino was handed his cup of lemons, and without hesitation, he began eating them, his face scrunching up in reaction to the sourness.
Wonwoo stepped up again, this time still holding the golf club he had won earlier, determined to secure another prize. He turned towards the staff, his calm voice cutting through the playful chatter. “I’ll try the golf ball set for my father.”
Laughter erupted from the other members. Mingyu, standing at the back, groaned in mock irritation. “Why are you muddying the water?”
“Ya! Leave him alone,” Luna chuckled as she scolded him gently, her eyes glinting with amusement.
“You’re such a good son,” Hoshi chimed in.
Mingyu, still grumbling, rolled his eyes. “You’re muddying the water. I bet your father has golf balls already.”
“No, he just started recently,” Wonwoo said, his expression earnest, despite the teasing around him.
“He wants to get it for his dad. Don’t be so mean,” Dino added, scolding Mingyu with a mouthful of lemons, which sent another wave of laughter through the group.
[The youngest points out the brutal fact]
“He’s right,” Minghao whispered to Mingyu, who looked utterly defeated by now.
Jeonghan, always ready to pile on, gave Mingyu a teasing smile. “Don’t be so materialistic.”
Luna giggled as she pointed at Mingyu’s pout, clearly entertained by the teasing.
[His shoulders are getting smaller]
Shaking his head with a small smile, Wonwoo picked up a paper and handed it to PD Na. The director glanced at the paper, grinning. “If you take the golf balls too, you’ll be a real good son.”
“Right! A real good son,” Dokyeom agreed enthusiastically from the back, which sent everyone laughing again.
PD Na cleared his throat and read aloud. “Commercial Relay.”
Seungkwan groaned dramatically. “Oh, that’s what I wanted! How did I get the bar exam? That’s ridiculous! I can’t believe I picked the bar exam.”
“I’m not good at this,” Wonwoo said quietly, already anticipating the difficulty ahead.
“You'll get it. I’m not going easy on you; you picked this yourself,” PD Na warned playfully.
“It’s easy,” Woozi commented dryly, ever the pragmatist.
With that, PD Na gave the line Wonwoo needed to complete. “‘The soup is...’”
“‘Awesome,’” Wonwoo answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“You got it!” PD Na confirmed, his voice filled with surprise and approval as the members collectively gasped and exclaimed in amazement.
[He becomes a good son]
Wonwoo, never one to be overly dramatic, raised his arms in mock victory. “Dad, enjoy golf,” he said, smiling softly.
[He wins the prize and the good son title]
“He’s so lucky,” Minghao added, shaking his head in disbelief.
“He got an easy one,” Luna observed as she fidgeted with her hair, trying to pull a strand off her lips that had stuck to her lip gloss. Jeonghan, ever-attentive, nodded and hummed, carefully reaching over to move the errant strand away for her. Luna smiled in appreciation as they both returned their attention to the game.
“Right? Mine was hard,” Jeonghan pouted slightly, playing along.
PD Na, not missing a beat, pointed toward Mingyu and commented, “Petty people in the back tried to stop him from being a good son.”
Mingyu, playing along, looked around dramatically, pretending not to understand who the comment was directed toward, causing everyone to burst into laughter.
[In the back?]
It was Dokyeom’s turn, and he stepped up confidently, ready to take his shot at winning another prize. The excitement among the group built up again as he chose a paper from the pile and handed it over to PD Na. The atmosphere felt charged with anticipation, everyone curious to see what challenges lay ahead.
PD Na unfolded the slip of paper, glanced at it with a slight smile, and revealed, “Neologism Quiz.”
“He’s good at neologisms,” Wonwoo commented from the side, arms crossed as if he were making a serious observation.
Mingyu, always curious, leaned forward. “Dokyeom, what did you pick for the prize?”
Dokyeom grinned, “The bulk snacks.”
[He carefully chose the 1-star prize]
Mingyu shook his head with a chuckle. “That’s so like you.”
PD Na asked with a teasing smile, “You know what a neologism is, right?”
S.Coups jumped in, throwing out an example with a mischievous smile, “‘OYONW.’”
“What’s that?” Woozi asked, his brow furrowing.
Without missing a beat, Wonwoo replied, “‘On your own, neatly and witty.’”
[Here's the question]
“Here’s your question. What does ‘QCA’ mean?” PD Na asked.
“‘QCA’?” Dokyeom repeated, his expression immediately showing confusion. His eyes darted from one member to another as if hoping someone would throw out a clue.
“1, 2, 3,” PD Na counted down.
Dokyeom stood there, his brow furrowed, but it was clear from his silence that he had no idea.
“Think about it,” PD Na encouraged him with a grin.
PD Na repeated his countdown, “1, 2, 3.”
Dokyeom’s lips quirked as he repeated again, “‘QCA’?” Still stumped. “‘Quick leave,’” he guessed with a laugh, clearly just throwing something out there.
PD Na, amused by the attempt, gestured toward the exit, playfully signaling Dokyeom to leave since his answer was wrong.
[Yes, leave]
The group exploded into laughter as Dokyeom, ever the entertainer, dramatically threw his arms up and strutted off, accepting his defeat with a massive smile.
[Bye, DK] [Going home after work is fun]
“Leave quickly with your lemon,” PD Na said, barely containing his laughter.
Dokyeom turned back to grab his cup of lemons, joining in on the joke, his smile never fading. As he started eating, PD Na revealed the correct answer, “‘Quick change in attitude’.”
A chorus of understanding went through the group as they all went, “Ahhh,” the moment of clarity sinking in.
It was Joshua’s turn now, stepping up confidently to the table as the members around him buzzed with commentary. He had already won one prize earlier but clearly had his eyes set on another.
“I’ll go for the Korean beef combo,” Joshua told PD Na with a calm, collected voice as if picking the juiciest prize out of a grocery store aisle.
[Since I have soju, let me get Korean beef]
“I didn’t know there was Korean beef,” Hoshi said, eyes widening in surprise, causing a ripple of laughter to spread among the members.
PD Na opened the slip Joshua had chosen and smiled. “SEVENTEEN Quiz.”
“That’s harder,” Mingyu immediately commented from his place in the line.
Jeonghan threw in his two cents, “I can never answer anything like this.”
“He’ll never get it. He’s guaranteed to miss it,” Woozi added, his sharp tone laced with a playful smirk, which made Wonwoo chuckle beside him.
Seungkwan, always vocal, let out a soft whine. “That’s exactly what I need!”
PD Na turned to Joshua with a small grin. “You need to answer this.”
Joshua, ever the gentleman, nodded with assurance. “Of course.”
[If he gets it wrong,things will get awkward with SEVENTEEN]
“A lot of CARATs are watching this. I believe SEVENTEEN has a very strong bond,” PD Na remarked, the atmosphere thickening with both anticipation and tension.
“Eyy, PD-nim, stop pressuring Shua!” Luna’s voice suddenly piped up from the back. Her petite frame peeked out from behind the tall figures of the other members in front of her, her head popping out to the side, making PD Na and the other members laugh at her playful intrusion.
[Peekaboo]
“I guess it’s a really hard question,” Vernon chuckled, shaking his head.
“To bring him down all at once,” Mingyu joked with a grin.
“No, I think two-thirds of you can get it. So, if you can’t answer it, you’ll feel so bad,” PD Na teased, sparking more laughter from the members.
Joshua, his smile unwavering, waited patiently as PD Na finally revealed the question.
“DK, who just left quickly, placed 2nd in ‘King of Mask Singer’. What was the name of DK’s mask?” PD Na asked.
“Oh, that’s hard,” Jun gasped, his eyes going wide.
“He wouldn’t know,” Minghao added, shaking his head with a slight laugh.
Luna and Jeonghan spoke up at the same time, confidently saying in unison, “That’s easy.”
[There are people who know]
“‘Baby Goblin’?” Joshua said, squinting slightly as he guessed, unsure of his answer.
“What?” PD Na asked, a little thrown off by the answer.
“‘Goblin’?” Joshua repeated, as if trying to double-check if he was close.
“Oh, he got it!” Dokyeom gasped from the side, surprised but excited by Joshua’s guess.
[Did he really get it?] [The production crew is stirred]
Luna, ever the helpful soul, leaned forward slightly, “There’s more before that, Shua.”
Joshua raised his eyebrows at her, turning slightly in her direction as she nodded encouragingly, urging him to keep going.
“That’s right, there’s more,” Seungkwan added, jumping on board to help.
“There are six more syllables before ‘Baby Goblin’,” PD Na confirmed, heightening the pressure.
“Six syllables?” Joshua asked, now clearly confused, as the rest of the members also expressed their surprise and confusion.
PD Na began the countdown again. “Here we go. 1,2,3.”
Joshua, with no real hope left, blurted out, “‘Fly Black Tea Baby Goblin’. Oh, I don’t know,” throwing his hands up in defeat as he reached for his cup of lemons, resigned to his fate.
“Isn’t it ‘Give Me Gold’?” Seungkwan asked, glancing around as if testing his own memory.
“‘Give Me Gold Baby Goblin’,” PD Na confirmed, revealing the correct answer.
“I still got ‘Baby Goblin,’” Joshua said with a sheepish smile, clearly proud of the small part he did remember.
“You got that part,” Dokyeom agreed, nodding his head in appreciation of Joshua’s effort.
“Did someone tell him? Did he get it on his own?” Seungkwan asked, looking suspiciously between the members.
“He answered it on his own,” Dokyeom confirmed.
“Thank you, Joshua,” Dokyeom said sincerely, grateful that Joshua had at least remembered part of his ‘King of Mask Singer’ persona.
PD Na smiled and turned to the writers. “Remove two lemons. I could count that as an answer.”
[2 lemons are removing for answering half]
“No,” Jeonghan quickly interjected, shaking his hand at PD Na with a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Hang on.” Mingyu moved forward with a mischievous smile, peering into Joshua’s cup. “Two more,” he declared, deliberately adding back the two lemons that had just been removed.
[Their friendship is so durable] [SEVENTEEN takes care of each other so much]
PD Na stared at Mingyu in surprise as one of the writers laughed in the background at Mingyu’s antics.
“Right. Have more. It’s still a game. We should play fair,” Jeonghan said, backing up Mingyu with a nod, making Luna scoff out a laugh at their pettiness.
“You guys are something else,” Luna muttered with amusement, only to be poked in the waist by Jeonghan, who was still holding onto her from behind.
“I got ‘Baby Goblin’ to be honest,” Joshua said, trying to plead his case one last time.
“I think that counts, but your colleagues…” PD Na trailed off, gesturing toward the other members who were adamant about their lemon rule.
“Ya, don’t be obnoxious. Hurry up and leave,” Jeonghan said, slowly pushing Joshua toward the chairs, urging him to start eating his lemons as the rest of the members began to agree with the playful shove.
[Starting with the general leader everyone agrees very fast]
Luna, still laughing, couldn’t get over how competitive and petty they were all being.
“I still appreciate that you tried,” Joshua told PD Na before he sat down, defeated but still in good spirits, Luna watched him carefully, her smile softening into something a little more sympathetic.
“Josh,” she called softly, her English accent slipping out naturally as he called out his name.
Joshua turned to her, his eyes meeting hers with curiosity. Luna, still smiling, nodded toward him and reached out her hand, subtly gesturing for him to hand over a lemon. She then held up two fingers, signaling that she wanted two lemons, clearly offering to halve his punishment with him.
Joshua chuckled, grateful for her support, and passed her two lemons with a quiet “Thank you.”
[The lemon-eating bunny healper]
Before Luna could even take a bite, Mingyu reached over, attempting to snatch the lemons back out of her hand. “Let him eat all of it,” he teased, a playful smirk spreading across his face.
Luna, quick on her feet, turned her body, positioning herself so that she was now facing Jeonghan’s chest, who was still holding her. She hid the lemons between them and shot Mingyu a defiant look. “Why? What’s it to you if I help him? I like lemons,” she said confidently, popping one of the lemon slices into her mouth without hesitation.
Mingyu, seeing that he had lost, pouted in defeat while Jeonghan watched the whole scene unfold, clearly amused by Luna’s antics and Mingyu’s failed attempt to intervene.
[The next customer is holding a Dyson]
Hoshi stood at the front, cradling his newly won Dyson box with pride. His grin was wide as he examined the selection of prizes again, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Despite already having a fantastic win under his belt, Hoshi was not yet satisfied.
“I’ll go for something big. The Korean beef combo,” he declared confidently, handing PD Na his chosen slip of paper.
[Taking a big risk again]
As PD Na opened the paper, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Rock, paper, scissors,” he read aloud, barely holding back a chuckle.
[Producer Na isn't good at rock-paper-scissors]
“Your luck is insane today,” Luna remarked from behind him, her voice filled with both admiration and disbelief.
[Hoshi is lucky]
“You have a high chance of winning,” Jeonghan added with a knowing grin.
Hoshi, unable to contain his excitement, started jumping up and down, fists clenched in victory even before the game had started. “Let’s go!” he shouted, pumping himself up.
“I’m not good at rock-paper-scissors,” PD Na confessed with a slight chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck in faux nervousness.
[Mr. Game isn't confident]
PD Na, standing with a hand on his hip, took a deep breath. “Alright… Rock, paper, scissors!”
Hoshi, still buzzing with excitement, threw out his hand with scissors. PD Na, true to his earlier statement, fumbled with his decision and threw paper. A chorus of cheers exploded from SEVENTEEN, the members clapping and shouting with excitement as they rushed toward Hoshi to congratulate him. His scissors had cut right through PD Na’s paper, securing his victory.
“There’s a flow!” Dokyeom announced with pride, as if he’d coached Hoshi through the whole thing.
S.Coups, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, called out, “Let’s take everything.”
“Take only the expensive stuff,” Dino added with a laugh as they all watched Hoshi eagerly walk over to grab the prized box of Korean beef.
As Hoshi held the box up like a trophy, Mingyu’s voice cut through the celebrations. “Isn’t it just one bag? Does he get to take everything?” he asked, a teasing grin creeping onto his face.
Jeonghan, ever the troublemaker, leaned in toward PD Na and whispered conspiratorially, “Let’s say it’s one bag per game.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, not wanting Hoshi to make off with the entire prize. He glanced at Luna, who elbowed him playfully, shaking her head in disagreement. “One bag per game,” Jeonghan repeated, trying to sound serious as he covered his smile.
Mingyu, fully backing Jeonghan’s plan, nodded in agreement. “Come on, Yung Suk. One bag at a time. It’s $50 per bag!” he said, emphasizing the value with a laugh.
PD Na, sensing the tension and the joke behind it, decided to address the group. “SEVENTEEN goes by the majority. Will it be one bag at a time or the whole thing?” He looked around, letting the group decide.
“Isn’t it one bag at a time?” Seungkwan chimed in, siding with Jeonghan and Mingyu.
Jeonghan, always the smooth talker, clapped a hand on Hoshi’s shoulder. “You can only take one bag,” he said with a grin like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.
Hoshi, his earlier victory still fresh, blinked in confusion. “I can only take one?”
Seungkwan, already at his side, began inspecting each bag as if making sure there wasn’t a trick. “You can only take one of them,” he confirmed.
[This is SEVENTEEN's teamwork]
S.Coups stepped forward, adding to the chaos. “Yeah, you can only take one of them. Which part do you want?” he asked, gesturing toward the different cuts of meat.
“What is wrong with you guys?” Joshua groaned, laughing as the pettiness of the situation finally dawned on him.
Hoshi, finally catching on to the teasing, held his ground. “It’s clearly a combo,” he argued, unwilling to back down after his win.
“No, you can only take one of them,” S.Coups pointed out again, his expression deadpan as if this was a serious rule.
“You look so petty,” Woozi remarked from the sidelines, shaking his head as the group burst into laughter.
Hoshi, feeling defeated but still in good spirits, sighed dramatically. “Fine, since got the Dyson,” he said, pretending to surrender as he started to return the Korean beef.
Before he could fully commit to giving it up, both Jeonghan and Vernon jumped in, their attitudes flipping in an instant. “No, take them all!” they said almost in unison, surprising Hoshi with their sudden change of heart.
Hoshi froze mid-step, his eyes wide as he turned back to look at them. “What?”
“S.Coups, don’t be so cheap and divide that by parts,” Jeonghan scolded, acting as though the entire argument hadn’t been his idea in the first place.
“That was you!” Joshua pointed out, unable to hold back his laughter.
[That was you 7 seconds ago]
Jeonghan, realizing he had been caught, laughed along with the others. “Take them all,” he insisted as if he was doing Hoshi a favor now.
PD Na, watching the whole scene unfold with amusement, couldn’t help but add, “Jeonghan gets to look nice.”
“Hoshi must be flustered,” Jeongan said.
[Bunny no. 1 is next once again]
Luna stood at the front again, having already won her first prize earlier, feeling the excitement bubbling within her. Her gaze was fixated on the two remaining Lego sets, her eyes drifting over the vibrant box of the Harry Potter Lego. Before she could make her decision, a familiar voice murmured close to her ear, just loud enough for only her to hear.
"Ferrari Lego, please." Jeonghan’s words came as a soft suggestion, and Luna felt his presence right next to her, his voice carrying a weight she couldn’t resist.
Without hesitation, Luna turned to PD Na, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll go for the Ferrari Lego,” she said confidently, knowing Jeonghan wanted it and was more than willing to win it for him.
[Bunny no. 1 cannot resist bunny no. 2]
Jeonghan, satisfied with her choice, tapped her waist gently three times— a silent yet intimate gesture. Luna’s smile grew wider; she knew what those three taps meant, only the two of them did. The gesture was subtle enough not to draw attention, but to her, it spoke volumes.
“You’re a big spender as well,” PD Na remarked as Luna confidently chose a slip of paper, handing it to him with a grin.
[Big spenders have all won]
He opened the paper and read it out loud, “Word relay.”
Luna nodded, focusing. “Okay,” she said, her expression determined as she prepared herself for whatever challenge lay ahead.
“Name five countries that start with the letter ‘M’ in five seconds,” PD Na announced, watching her closely.
Without missing a beat, Luna lifted her hand to count on her fingers. “Mexico, Monaco, Malaysia, Malta, Moldova,” she rattled off quickly, the words rolling effortlessly off her tongue.
[Big spenders tend to win twice in a row]
“You got it!” PD Na confirmed, sounding impressed as the rest of the members fell silent, staring at her in awe.
Jeonghan’s hand shot up for a high-five, which Luna enthusiastically met. “Good job!” he praised, his smile wide and genuine.
“Yay!” Luna exclaimed as she skipped forward, her excitement clear as she grabbed the Ferrari Lego set. She hugged the box to her chest, the satisfaction of her win radiating through her, then returned to pick up the Disney Lego set she had won earlier.
A chorus of amazement filled the room, the members voicing their disbelief at how quickly and smoothly she had won. “Wow!” “How did she know all that?” “Why is she so fast?”
“You see how Yoon Jeonghan is not complaining like earlier,” Hoshi pointed out with a knowing look, gesturing toward Jeonghan, who stood smugly.
[Tiger Hoshi noticed something]
This shifted everyone’s attention to Jeonghan, who simply smirked. “It’s because he knows he’s getting that Lego set later,” Hoshi added, his teasing tone making the group erupt into laughter.
“You’re right!” Mingyu agreed, pointing at Hoshi as if to back up the claim.
“I thought she was gonna pick the Harry Potter Lego,” Dokyeom added, surprised at Luna’s decision.
“Since when were you interested in cars?” Woozi asked Luna with a raised brow, making her laugh even harder.
[They know each other so well]
Before Luna could answer, Mingyu held up his hands, motioning for everyone to listen. “Wait, did you hear what he said to Jiyeonie earlier before she chose?” Mingyu asked, pointing at both Jeonghan and Luna, his mischievous grin betraying the secret.
“What? What?” S.Coups leaned in, eager to hear.
“‘Ferrari Lego, please’,” Mingyu mimicked Jeonghan’s earlier whisper, earning a round of laughter from everyone as they playfully scolded the two.
“Ya! Bae Jiyeon! Yoon Jeonghan!” Seungkwan called out, pretending to scold Luna, though his grin gave him away.
“Those two are really shameless,” S.Coups said.
[Bunnies got caught]
Luna, still laughing, didn’t deny anything, while Jeonghan stood next in line, smirking at the whole situation, his confidence unwavering.
[Not denying]
“Why are you even in line? You won already,” Mingyu teased, playfully pushing Jeonghan toward Luna’s prize knowing it was already his.
Jeonghan gave Mingyu a lazy smirk, clearly amused by the teasing. His long hair fell gracefully over his face as he casually combed it back with one hand, exuding a calm confidence. "What about it?" he retorted, his voice smooth and laid-back, "What's it to you?"
The subtle cockiness in his tone, paired with his effortless gesture, made the rest of the members chuckle, knowing all too well that this was classic Jeonghan — cool, unbothered, and always one step ahead when it came to witty comebacks.
Vernon stood in front of the table, tapping his fingers lightly on its surface as he glanced over at the remaining prizes. "I'll go for the tea set," he announced, his tone casual, as he handed PD Na the slip of paper he had chosen.
"The tea set?" PD Na repeated, gesturing to Minghao. "The8 just checked it."
"I didn't know there was tea," Minghao remarked, looking at the set with slight curiosity.
Vernon smiled. "I was eyeing it from the start."
"This isn’t easy," PD Na said, as he read what was written on the slip.
Vernon raised an eyebrow and leaned forward to glance at the note. "Look at the pictures and arrange them by order," he read aloud, shrugging. "How can that be hard?"
Without a word, PD Na reached behind him and pulled out a stack of papers, careful to keep them hidden from Vernon's view. "You should be able to get it," he said with a grin that hinted at the challenge ahead.
[Genre: Arrange Jeonghan's pictures by order]
[Arrange 4 pictures in order] [They're all from different periods] [Remember he never ages]
Luna, sitting with Jeonghan on the chairs, caught sight of the pictures and immediately started laughing. "That’s hard," she commented, as she and Jeonghan moved closer to the table to get a better look.
“You should be able to get it.” PD Na told Vernon.
The rest of the members began to murmur and exclaim in unison. "Ahhh…" they said, their curiosity piqued as PD Na revealed the challenge.
"Arrange it by order," PD Na instructed, laying out four pictures of Jeonghan from different eras of their career.
Vernon blinked, staring at the photos in slight confusion. "What is this?" he muttered under his breath, clearly thrown off by the task.
Seungkwan let out a whine as he hovered near the table. "I’m so good at this! That’s my field of expertise!" His voice was a mix of genuine annoyance and playful boasting.
Dino, Jun, and Hoshi immediately mimicked Seungkwan’s tone, their exaggerated impressions sending the members into a fit of laughter. Seungkwan joined in the laughter but remained adamant. "I’m good at it!" he repeated.
Vernon began carefully arranging the photos on the table, the rest of the members crowding around him to observe. His brow furrowed as he tried to differentiate between the images.
[He carefully arranges the pictures]
"They’re all the same," Luna chuckled, glancing at Jeonghan, whose face remained consistently youthful in all the pictures.
Even Jeonghan joined in, shaking his head. "Even I can’t do it," he said, a chuckle escaping as he leaned closer to get a better look at the photos. PD Na began counting down the seconds, adding more pressure.
"They all look just the same," S.Coups added, echoing the sentiment as Vernon rearranged them for what felt like the hundredth time.
Jeonghan erupted into laughter. "He has no idea," he teased, making the rest of the group chuckle again.
Vernon glanced at the photos, his confusion evident. "I mean, don’t they all look the same? It looks like you from the other day," he said as he pointed at Jeonghan.
[Just different hair style]
"Focus on the hair color, Vernon," Luna suggested gently from behind, offering a helpful tip as she moved closer.
"Are you done?" PD Na asked, glancing at the clock to remind him that time was running out.
Vernon sighed and turned back to the pictures. "Do I get a chance to change it?" he asked, hoping for a lifeline.
"You have one last chance," PD Na confirmed, watching him intently.
Mingyu, ever the playful instigator, leaned in close to Vernon, whispering like a devil on his shoulder, "Don’t change it. Don’t. There’s a reason why he’s telling you to change it."
Vernon considered his words, a smirk playing on his lips. "Is it a high degree of mind game?" he mused before turning back to the photos. After a moment of contemplation, he made his final decision. "I’ll go with this."
Luna giggled as she moved closer to Jeonghan again, back-hugging him as her chin rested on his shoulder. She peeked over, knowing Vernon had made a mistake. "Aigo…"
"Vernon, should I say you're firm?" PD Na began, smiling as he prepared to reveal the result. "Here’s the answer."
He pointed to the first picture. "Number one is correct."
A brief moment of triumph spread across Vernon’s face until PD Na moved on to the rest of the photos.
"Here’s number two," PD Na said, shifting to the second photo, "here comes number four… and number three is last."
Luna, still perched behind Jeonghan, grinned. "You only got one right."
Vernon sighed, pointing at the first picture. "That’s ‘Don’t Wanna Cry.’"
[They recognize it by his hair] [’Don't Wanna Cry', May 2017]
Mingyu pointed at the second picture, laughing. "That’s ‘CLAP.’"
"Is it?" Jeonghan asked, equally puzzled by his own face.
"Isn’t that ‘THANKS’?" Vernon added, still trying to make sense of it all.
"I had pink hair for ‘CLAP,’" Jeonghan interjected, trying to sort through the visual timeline of his hairstyles.
PD Na chuckled at Jeonghan’s confusion, "I’m sorry, but aren’t these your pictures?"
Jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh along. "I can’t tell either. This is so hard."
"That was so hard," Seungkwan chimed in, shaking his head in disbelief. "It’s hard because you never age," He added as he turned to Jeonghan, teasing him. "You’re always so consistent."
"They were all the same," Vernon grumbled playfully as he accepted his defeat and began to eat his lemons.
Mingyu, still determined to claim victory after his earlier failure, stood with a renewed sense of purpose. His competitive spirit was palpable as he approached PD Na, his brows furrowed with focus. "I'll try for golf balls," he declared, handing over the slip of paper he had chosen. "I’d rather pick the Character Quiz." He pouted, half-joking, trying to mask his nervousness.
[Mingyu returns for golf balls]
PD Na unfolded the paper and glanced at what was written. "SEVENTEEN Quiz," he read out loud, grinning. "This won’t be easy."
Mingyu straightened, ready for the challenge, though the uncertainty was clear in his eyes.
PD Na looked him squarely in the face before delivering the question. "When’s S.Coups' birthday?"
Mingyu’s face lit up with surprise, not expecting such a simple query. "August 8," he answered without hesitation, his voice laced with disbelief at the ease of the question.
"Ya, that’s too easy," Luna piped up from her seat, shaking her head with a laugh.
PD Na chuckled, equally shocked at how simple it had been. "You got it. Good job," he congratulated Mingyu, though his tone revealed how anticlimactic the moment felt.
"We all know each other’s birthdays," Seungkwan chimed in, turning to PD Na with an almost proud expression.
"I know their birthdays," Mingyu said, his chest puffed out in confidence as he absorbed the victory.
PD Na raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do you remember each other's birthdays?" he asked, his voice rising with playful skepticism.
A chorus of "Yes" and "Of course" echoed across the room as the members responded in unison, their voices overlapping with laughter and confidence.
"Really?" PD Na pressed, still amused by how naturally they remembered.
Luna giggled at the disbelief in his tone. "Why is that so shocking?"
"It was so easy. I was like, ‘August 8?’" Mingyu repeated, still bewildered that the question had been such a breeze.
Joshua leaned forward from his chair, nodding thoughtfully. "We get very disappointed if we don’t remember it."
Luna nodded in agreement, her tone softer as she added, "We’ve known each other for years. It’d be weird if we didn’t know."
Mingyu, still basking in his small victory, broke into a playful tune. "The golf balls," he sang lightly as he approached the table to collect his prize, a wide grin stretching across his face.
PD Na shook his head with a laugh, clearly amused by the whole interaction. "I worked with Hyo Jung for twenty years, but I don’t know her birthday," he admitted, pointing at the other producer standing beside him.
The members roared with laughter, the room filling with their amusement. Joshua’s sharp wit cut through the noise as he teasingly remarked, "She’s disappointed."
PD Na shook his head again, this time with a mock sigh. "You don’t know my birthday either," he told Hyo Jung, his nod full of playful accusation.
"She can’t complain," S.Coups chimed in.
It was finally Minghao's turn, and he eyed the prize he had wanted from the start— the delicate tea set that sat neatly on the prize table. With a small, determined smile, he turned to PD Na. "I want the tea set," he said, his voice clear but calm. He handed over the slip of paper with his mission written on it, fully prepared for whatever challenge lay ahead.
"Word Relay," PD Na announced, holding up the paper for Minghao to see. A ripple of laughter went through the group as Minghao tilted his head in confusion.
"How can a word have a relay?" Minghao asked, his innocent question making the other members burst into laughter.
PD Na chuckled, shaking his head lightly. "Here’s what you’re going to do," he began, speaking slowly for clarity. "You know body parts, right?"
"Yes," Minghao nodded.
"Okay. What’s this?" PD Na pointed at his own ear.
"Ear," Minghao answered confidently.
"Right. Now, just like an ear, say five one-syllable body parts," PD Na explained, giving him the mission.
Without missing a beat, Minghao slowly fired off his answers. "Liver, ear, mouth, nose, eye. Wahh!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in victory as he walked back to his place, grinning as the others clapped and cheered for him.
"Good job! Good job, Hao!" Luna shouted, standing from her seat and clapping with a huge smile on her face, as though she were a proud parent.
But Seungkwan, ever the perfectionist, raised an eyebrow. "Does the liver count?" he asked, glancing around.
"Of course it does," Luna quickly answered.
"Of course. It’s still in your body," Minghao added matter-of-factly, his innocent tone causing more laughter to erupt among the group.
"It counts. It’s a body part," PD Na confirmed with a grin, amused by the dynamic.
Minghao turned to Seungkwan with a playful, slightly confused look. "Isn’t a liver part of your body? You don’t know how to play this," he said, his genuine innocence adding to his adorable charm.
"That wasn’t so easy," PD Na acknowledged, giving Minghao a nod of approval.
But Minghao, beaming with pride, hugged his newly won tea set close to his chest. "It works if you try," he said, giggling softly at his own success.
[Happy]
"You did it," PD Na said, smiling at the satisfaction on Minghao’s face.
"Thank you," Minghao replied, still holding onto his prize.
"You love tea. This is great," Dino clapped for him, happy to see Minghao with a prize that fit him so perfectly.
Minghao chuckled as he moved back into line, admiring his prize closely. "This is really pretty," he said softly, almost to himself.
"Yes, it’s pretty," Mingyu agreed, leaning over to get a closer look at the tea set.
Meanwhile, Luna, who had returned to her seat next to Jeonghan, covered her mouth with her hand, giggling at the scene in front of her. She glanced at Jeonghan, her eyes sparkling with joy.
"Why?" Jeonghan asked, smiling warmly at her.
"Minghao is so cute," Luna pouted dramatically, placing both hands over her chest as though it pained her how adorable Minghao was. Her exaggerated reaction made Jeonghan chuckle softly at her.
It was Dino’s turn once more, and determination flashed in his eyes. He had his sights set on one thing: the razor set.
"I'll try for razors again," Dino said confidently as he stepped forward.
[The regular customer who's only after the razors]
From the back of the line, Wonwoo couldn’t help but giggle. "Dino wants the razor set," he teased.
"I've got to get it," Dino muttered to himself, clenching his fists in focus as he handed the slip of paper he’d chosen over to PD Na.
[I'll get it this time]
PD Na unfolded the paper, and before he could even fold it back, Mingyu, standing in the middle of the line, caught sight of what was written. He burst into laughter, clapping his hands.
"But it’s so windy!" Mingyu exclaimed, his voice betraying the mischief in his mind.
"Did you see it, Mingyu?" PD Na asked, amused by Mingyu’s sudden outburst.
Mingyu laughed harder, doubling over and falling onto the ground in exaggerated glee. "You can read others’ misfortune very fast," PD Na commented, shaking his head while the rest of the group looked on in confusion.
"What was it?" Dino asked, his brow furrowed, feeling a sense of impending doom.
"This is going to be so much fun!" Mingyu said, clapping excitedly.
Finally, PD Na revealed the mission, "Light the match at once."
[Oh, poor Dino]
The group erupted into laughter. With how windy it was— hair flying everywhere, whether long or short— it was near impossible.
"Oh no," Luna chuckled, shaking her head sympathetically at Dino.
"That’s impossible," Dokyeom chimed in.
"Light the match in five seconds upon receiving it," PD Na repeated, sending the group into further hysterics.
Dino, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie, prepared for the challenge. "Wait," he said, trying to mentally brace himself.
"And after lighting it, the match has to stay lit for 3 seconds," PD Na added, causing another burst of laughter. PD Na placed a box of matches in front of Dino, his face barely holding back a smile. "Go," he instructed.
Quickly, Dino grabbed the box of matches, his fingers fumbling slightly as adrenaline coursed through him. The rest of the members abandoned their seats and positions in the line, crowding around Dino as if this were a grand spectacle. PD Na began the countdown as everyone tried to offer their help.
"Block the wind with your body," Mingyu suggested, leaning in.
"Like that, hunch over like that," Luna said from the side, her voice filled with encouragement as Dino bent over, shielding his hands from the relentless wind.
"Go easy. No need to use your strength," Jeonghan advised, his calm voice contrasting with the chaos around him.
[With other members' help and advice]
Dino struck the match, his hands working quickly— but as soon as it lit, the flame flickered and died almost instantly.
[Snap] [Gone]
The group exploded into laughter. "Why did you die, buddy?" Dino whined dramatically to the match, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"It went off right away!" Dokyeom said, shaking his head in sympathy. "That’s horrible."
[It died] [In 0.01 seconds]
PD Na chuckled at Dino's failed attempt, "You didn’t ask for something big. All you wanted was razors."
"How many lemons has he eaten now?" S.Coups asked, pointing at Dino with a grin, knowing that Dino had already consumed six sour lemons in his quest for the razors.
[6 lemons while trying to get razors]
"Dino the lemon," Hoshi teased, flashing a mischievous smile.
"Dino the lemon," Joshua echoed, chuckling along with the rest of the group, as Dino sat there eating his lemons, half-amused, half-frustrated at his misfortune.
It was Jun’s turn once again, his eyes gleamed with determination. "I want the Harry Potter Lego," he declared confidently, handing the paper to PD Na.
[He chose the last Lego]
PD Na opened the slip of paper and squinted slightly as he read the challenge aloud. "This will be tough... Make me laugh in ten seconds," he said, trying to hold back a smile. The group erupted in laughter once more.
"Think out of the box, Jun!" Luna called out encouragingly, while Jeonghan gently dragged her by the wrist as they moved to the back of the line together, trying their luck once more.
"Who knows? You might be able to do it," Woozi said, adding his support, although his smirk suggested he wasn’t sure if Jun could pull it off.
PD Na slowly began counting down from ten. "Ten... nine..."
[The countdown begins]
Jun blinked, suddenly realizing the countdown had started. "Has it started?" he asked, eyes widening in a mild panic.
[He doesn't know what to do]
"Seven... six..."
Jun thought for a moment, staring at PD Na, his mind racing. Desperation crept in, and as the seconds ticked away, he quickly scrunched up his face into the goofiest expression he could think of.
[He first tries to frown his face] [Ta-da]
However, PD Na remained stone-faced, not even a hint of a smile crossing his features.
[He's too handsome to be funny]
"Five... four..." The tension built as Jun began to sweat.
"Hurry!" Minghao shouted from the back, egging Jun on.
With only three seconds left, Jun’s mind went blank, but then, an idea struck him. "What about tickling?" he said out loud. Before anyone could stop him, Jun lunged forward and started tickling PD Na’s sides.
[As soon as he started tickling, Producer Na laughed]
The suddenness of it caught PD Na completely off guard. His composure crumbled instantly as laughter burst from him, his face twisting in both amusement and shock. He hadn't expected this tactic at all. PD Na laughed, but his surprised smile didn’t fade. He stared at Jun, still reeling from the unexpected assault of tickles.
Jun celebrated wildly, jumping up and down as the members cheered him on.
"You’re a genius!" Dokyeom clapped Jun on the back, clearly impressed.
[In a way that no one expected]
"I’ve never thought about that!" PD Na said, still recovering. He shook his head in disbelief. "But you did it," he added, a begrudging smile on his face.
With a victorious grin, Jun bounded toward the prize table and grabbed the last Harry Potter Lego set, a bounce in his step as if he’d just conquered the world.
"I would’ve never thought about tickling," Joshua said, shaking his head in amusement as he watched Jun cradle the box like a trophy.
It was S.Coups' turn next, and with a calm, confident stride, he handed the paper he had chosen over to PD Na.
“S.Coups, born on August 8,” PD Na teased, playfully emphasizing the detail, causing a few chuckles among the members.
S.Coups pointed directly at the gift certificate, eyeing it like a prized possession. “I want the gift certificate,” he said decisively.
From the sidelines, Seungkwan let out a mock whine, his voice rising comically. “That’s mine!” Seungkwan exclaimed, earning amused glances from the other members.
PD Na mirrored Seungkwan’s whining tone, further adding to the playful tension in the room. “What’s going on?” PD Na asked dramatically before focusing back on the paper. He laughed as he noticed yet another easy mission. “Okay, SEVENTEEN Quiz,” he announced.
“The social media manager,” Wonwoo teased, referencing S.Coups’ well-known position as the unofficial information hub of the group.
“Most informative,” Dokyeom added with a knowing smirk, poking fun at the ease of the quiz missions.
PD Na glanced at the remaining papers in the bowl. “So many people have picked SEVENTEEN Quiz. There are only easy ones left now.” He paused for effect before reading the question aloud. “How do you spell PLEDIS?”
S.Coups didn’t hesitate for even a second. “P, L, E, D, I, S,” he answered with a slight grin as if the question was too simple for his level.
“You got it,” PD Na confirmed with a slight nod of acknowledgment.
Without missing a beat, S.Coups moved away from the line, making a beeline for the gift certificate. His fellow members couldn’t help but react.
“That’s too easy,” Luna commented with a soft laugh, shaking her head.
“That’s so easy,” Vernon echoed, equally amused by the simplicity of the question.
It was Dokyeom’s turn once again, and he stepped forward confidently to grab a paper from the bucket. As he did so, he tried to spell PLEDIS aloud, “P, L, E, I, D, S,” nodding to himself, completely unaware of his mistake.
PD Na, noticing the error, quickly grabbed the bucket out of Dokyeom’s reach, chuckling, “What did you just say?”
Dokyeom blinked in surprise and then burst into laughter, realizing his mistake. “Can I just pick one?” he asked, still giggling at his blunder.
[He must be from a different agency]
“People get confused sometimes!” Dokyeom defended, still laughing as he finally pulled a paper from the bucket and handed it to PD Na. “I’ll try for the bulk snack,” he said with a hopeful grin.
PD Na opened the paper, reading the mission aloud, “Object Quiz.” He turned around and reached for a picture, revealing it to Dokyeom, who stared at it, completely baffled. The image was of some random object, but Dokyeom looked at it with wide eyes, clearly at a loss for words.
“Beating?” Dokyeom said, blurting out nonsense in an attempt to answer, but PD Na shook his head, “Wrong.”
Dokyeom let out a defeated sigh and grabbed his cup of lemons, moving back to the seating area to eat as the members chuckled at his answer.
“What even is that?” S.Coups asked, puzzled, as Dokyeom sat down.
[The good son appears again]
Next in line was Wonwoo, who still clutched the golf club and golf balls he had won earlier. He eyed the sack of dog food sitting on the prize table, clearly planning to win it for his father. “My dad has a dog,” he commented casually, a determined glint in his eye.
“Is that your theme? Being a good son?” PD Na teased as Wonwoo handed him the paper he had picked.
[Golf club for his father] [Golf balls for his father]
PD Na read the next quiz question aloud, “What’s Newton’s full name?”
Wonwoo froze, completely at a loss for the answer. The silence hung in the air as PD Na started his countdown, but Wonwoo didn’t say a word.
“Jimmy Newton,” Dokyeom muttered from his seat, trying to be helpful but only making things worse, as S.Coups and Woozi doubled over in laughter.
“Isaac Newton,” Luna and Vernon said in unison from the back, their voices overlapping as they both got the answer right.
“You two got it,” PD Na acknowledged with a nod, though it wasn’t their question.
Wonwoo shrugged as he left the line, missing out on the dog food, but his poker face never faltered, earning a few more chuckles from the group as the game continued.
[The real rich appears] [Korean beef combo] [Dyson]
Hoshi stepped forward once again, a box of Dyson appliances in one hand and a Korean beef set tucked under his arm, looking rather content with his winnings so far. PD Na, noticing Hoshi's abundance of prizes, pointed at him with a grin and then at Wonwoo, who was standing to the side with only his golf club and golf balls. "I’m sorry, but he’s not that rich,” PD Na said, gesturing to Wonwoo, making everyone burst into laughter.
Hoshi nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he pulled another paper from the bucket and handed it to PD Na.
PD Na opened it and read aloud, “Old abbreviation quiz.”
“Old abbreviations?” Vernon repeated, his brow furrowing as he glanced at Hoshi, who looked equally confused.
“Yes,” PD Na warned as he consulted his cue cards. “What does ‘WWKSB’ mean?”
Hoshi blinked, completely lost.
"What?" Luna murmured from her place in the middle of the line, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
"’Why don't we...?’" Hoshi started, but he trailed off, unable to think of the rest of the phrase. He looked desperate for inspiration, but before he could come up with anything, PD Na’s countdown ended.
"Wrong!" PD Na declared, shaking his head.
"Isn’t it ‘Why don’t we kiss since we’re bored’?” S.Coups chimed in casually, earning shocked looks from a few members.
“Really?” Hoshi turned to S.Coups, disbelief written all over his face.
PD Na laughed and nodded. “Yes— ‘Why don’t we kiss since we’re bored?’”
Luna stood in line, her arms crossed over her chest, her face calm and unreadable as she processed the answer. But beside her, Jeonghan turned to her the instant PD Na gave the answer, his eyes glinting with mischief and knowing. His gaze seemed to imply a teasing suggestion as if he were echoing what the answer had just revealed.
Luna could feel the weight of Jeonghan’s stare on her face, the amusement radiating off him, but she kept her face forward, refusing to give him the reaction he was clearly baiting for— especially with cameras rolling. Yet, the intensity of his stare was relentless, and despite her composure, she knew he wouldn’t let up.
After a few more moments, still feeling the intensity of his gaze and the smirk undoubtedly playing on his lips, Luna subtly shifted her eyes upward, locking her gaze with his without turning her head. She raised her eyebrow ever so slightly, silently challenging him. Jeonghan’s lazy smirk only widened, his long black hair framing his face as he stared at her, utterly entertained. His tongue flicked over his lips briefly, making her grin at his persistence before she turned her attention back in front, letting the moment dissolve without a word exchanged between them.
“‘WWKSB?’” Vernon echoed, nodding as if learning something entirely new about the past.
“I guess people were more open-minded back in the day,” Hoshi deadpanned, his expression comically serious. PD Na and the rest of the crew couldn’t contain their laughter.
Hoshi, unbothered, moved away from the line with a resigned shrug, grabbing his cup of lemons as he prepared to take a seat. “Why would you kiss when you’re bored?”
Seungkwan, who had been quietly processing the absurdity of it all, mimicked the abbreviation. “WWKSB?” he said in a teasing tone, nudging Dino.
“Why don’t you stop?” Dino responded with the same tone, and the two dissolved into laughter.
Vernon stepped up for his third attempt, visibly more determined but equally unsure, having yet to claim any prizes so far. His eyes darted to the bucket of papers, scanning for any that could give him an advantage, but luck was hard to read.
[3rd visit] [Vernon still hasn't won anything yet]
He drew a slip and handed it to PD Na, who glanced at it and read aloud, “Proverb Relay.”
At that, Vernon let out a visible groan and physically cringed. “Proverbs... ah,” he mumbled, already anticipating his failure.
“That’s what I’m good at,” Wonwoo chimed in confidently from his seat at the side.
“You have to answer immediately,” PD Na instructed, putting Vernon on the spot with a serious tone, giving him no time to overthink. “‘One man sows—?’”
Vernon’s brows furrowed in concentration, but then, in a total shot in the dark, he answered, “‘The fox reaps’?”
“Wrong,” PD Na declared with a smirk, much to the amusement of the others.
“What is it?” Vernon asked, confused but chuckling at his wild guess.
“It’s ‘One man sows, another man reaps,’” PD Na clarified.
Next in line was Mingyu, stepping forward for another chance at redemption. Mingyu grabbed his paper and, with a quick glance at PD Na, handed it over. Woozi, seeing Mingyu’s confident stance, teased from the back, “Mingyu won’t get it.”
Mingyu turned slightly, not one to let the joke go unnoticed. “Why would you say that? I still got one prize!” he defended as he showed off his golf balls.
Unbothered, PD Na read the paper. “It’s a Logo Quiz.”
“That’s easy,” Minghao called out from behind, encouraging Mingyu with his usual calm tone.
PD Na pulled out a picture, held it up in front of Mingyu, and immediately started counting down. “One, two, three—?”
Without hesitating, Mingyu blurted, “Simyang!”
“That’s Korea Music Copyright Association,” Woozi said, his sharp eyes always catching such details.
“That’s right— Korea Music Copyright Association,” PD Na confirmed, a satisfied nod directed at Woozi.
“I got it,” Woozi said, proud of his keen observation
[It was so easy for the producer]
“Woozi is the only one who got it right,” PD Na added for emphasis, as the rest of the group chuckled.
“He’s basically a permanent employee,” S.Coups added, pointing at Woozi like he’d already earned a spot in the association’s hierarchy.
“I even have their app,” Woozi boasted, laughing as PD Na handed him the photo again, testing him.
“Woozi, what’s this?” PD Na asked, showing the picture once more.
“Korea Music Copyright Association,” Woozi replied effortlessly, proving his point again.
[Woozi has the copyright for 147 songs]
“This is crazy... It’s so embarrassing,” Mingyu muttered as he moved to grab his cup of lemons.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” PD Na said with a comforting grin. “Just have some lemons.”
“You’re right,” Mingyu conceded, playfully surrendering as he left the line, still shaking his head in disbelief.
Minghao stepped up for his next attempt, eyes glancing at the bucket of papers before settling on one. He plucked it out with ease and handed it to PD Na, his expression calm and collected as always. "I want the slippers," he stated, pointing at the prize he had his sights set on.
Jeonghan, standing to the side, chimed in, “You might have a lot of guests at home,” teasing Minghao in his usual soft-spoken but playful tone.
PD Na opened the slip and read aloud, “It’s a Korean movie title.”
Jun, who stood nearby, gave his teammate a reassuring nod. “That could be easy. You’ve watched a lot of movies,” he said, trying to encourage Minghao, though everyone knew this wasn’t going to be as simple as it seemed.
PD Na raised his eyebrows at Minghao and announced, “You have five seconds.”
Minghao’s expression shifted into one of mild disbelief. “Five seconds? That’s too short,” he said, then added with a clever smirk, “I’m The8. Give me eight seconds.”
The group burst into laughter at his quick-witted response. “That makes sense,” Luna quipped, joining in on the joke.
PD Na chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re the one who said eye, nose, mouth, and liver earlier. I’ll give you seven seconds.”
With that, PD Na showed the card with the initials ‘DTL’ on it. “It’s a Korean movie,” PD Na said, starting to count down.
Minghao’s brow furrowed as he stared at the letters on the card, trying to piece together the title. His focus was intense, but the seconds ticked away too quickly.
“That’s so easy!” Seungkwan whined from the back, watching with eager anticipation.
“What is it?” Jeonghan and Luna muttered to each other, both squinting at the letters, equally stumped.
But before Minghao could answer his time ran out, PD Na announced, “Wrong!”
Immediately, Minghao turned to Seungkwan, pretending to be offended. “I got it wrong because of you!” he playfully scolded, causing a ripple of laughter to echo through the group.
Seungkwan pouted, “You couldn’t get it anyway. It’s ‘Decision to Leave’.”
The members collectively groaned in realization, a chorus of “Ahhh” filling the air as they pieced it together.
As the challenge drew closer to its end, PD Na glanced at the remaining members still standing in line and announced, "I'll be closing soon. Only those who haven't won anything should line up."
With that, Luna and the other members who had already won prizes took their seats off to the side. Some settled on chairs while others sat cross-legged on the ground, all watching the final contestants. Jeonghan, Vernon, Seungkwan, and Dino were the last ones standing in line.
[Next customer is Jeonghan]
[Rummage] [What's he doing?]
Jeonghan, a known game cheater from their ‘Going Seventeen’ antics, was already up to his usual tricks. He rummaged through the remaining papers, eyes squinting as he tried to read the questions through the faint marker lines that had bled through the back of the paper.
"You can’t go through the questions," one of the writers said, eyeing Jeonghan suspiciously.
Jeonghan simply chuckled, casually continuing his sneaky mission. PD Na, watching from a distance, stared at Jeonghan in confusion. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go through them,” PD Na repeated, a bit more firmly this time.
Feigning innocence, Jeonghan smiled and chose his prize. “I’ll go for the glove— I’ll mix them,” he said, before pretending to mix the papers up. However, his fingers were already gripping onto one specific paper, clearly hoping for an easier question.
“I’m sorry, but you held onto it when you shook them up,” PD Na pointed out, calling Jeonghan out on his cheeky tactics. The observation earned PD Na a laugh from Jeonghan, who finally picked a different paper and handed it over.
“It’s Four-character Idiom Relay,” PD Na announced, causing a wave of groans and laughter from the group as Jeonghan’s face fell into a look of mock defeat.
“You can do it,” Luna encouraged, clapping lightly from the side, followed by several other voices.
“We should make a new idiom for today,” Mingyu joked from the sidelines.
"You got this," Jun said, backing Jeonghan with playful confidence.
With a sigh, Jeonghan straightened up. “No pain, no gain,” he declared confidently.
PD Na blinked, confused. “I haven’t started yet,” he said, which sent the group into a fit of laughter.
“You have to say it right away,” PD Na reminded him before reading the first part of the idiom. “Ome?”
“Ga-3,” Jeonghan answered without hesitation, a cheeky grin on his face.
[What?]
The room erupted into loud laughter as PD Na announced, “Wrong!”
[Omega-3: fatty acid needed for normal growth and health]
"It’s omebulmang," Seungkwan chimed in through his own laughter, shaking his head at Jeonghan’s hilariously absurd answer.
Luna toppled over, leaning on Dokyeom as she laughed uncontrollably. "That was amazing," she wheezed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from laughing so hard.
“That was a good one,” Joshua agreed, nodding approvingly at Jeonghan’s absurd creativity.
[Nice wrong answer]
From the side, Dokyeom couldn’t help but add, “From now on, it’s Omega-3.”
“I’m jealous that he was funny,” Seungkwan pouted, still giggling at the chaos.
“Omega-3 was brilliant,” Dokyeom repeated, shaking his head in amusement as Jeonghan, grinning, stepped back to rejoin the group after his bold attempt.
It was Dino's turn, and the determined maknae stepped up confidently. "I'll take the razors again," he said, handing PD Na the paper he had chosen.
PD Na glanced at the paper, then looked up with a sly smile. "It's Proverb Relay."
Instantly, the members reacted. “He’s out,” S.Coups said, shaking his head with a knowing smile.
“Aigo, I’ll just buy you razors, Dino-ah,” Luna chuckled, amused at Dino’s previous failed attempts.
“I’m good at it,” Dino told her, his face filled with mock determination.
[No, you're not]
"Ah, really?" Luna asked, her concerned tone causing S.Coups to laugh and point at her for having such little faith in Dino. "Alright"
“Make it funny, Dino,” Mingyu teased, leaning back with a smirk.
“He’s guaranteed to be out,” Dokyeom chimed in, causing Dino to sigh dramatically.
“I told you. Everyone except for noona makes me negative and hopeless,” Dino said, feigning offense, causing laughter to ripple through the group.
[Proving that it's true]
“In the back, he said ‘One man sows, and walls have ears,’” Wonwoo joked, causing PD Na to clap and laugh at Dino’s famously incorrect previous answers.
“You should at least be funny,” Joshua encouraged, chuckling at Dino’s struggle.
“You’re a funny kid,” Mingyu added, his teasing tone light-hearted.
“If you play seriously, you’ll be funny,” Woozi assured him.
[No one expects him to get it]
“I hope you get it,” Seungkwan said encouragingly, standing behind Dino.
“I will get it,” Dino said firmly, taking a deep breath. He looked determined, ready to prove them all wrong.
“Here we go,” PD Na said, holding up the paper. He paused for dramatic effect before reading the first part of the proverb. “‘Bamboo basket...’”
Without missing a beat, Dino confidently responded, “‘Is a shame.’”
PD Na blinked before declaring, “Wrong!”
The group burst into laughter. Dino clutched his sides, joining the members as they doubled over at his very wrong, but hilarious answer.
“‘It can’t carry water,’” S.Coups said between laughs, finally giving the correct answer.
“It is a shame, though,” Woozi said, still chuckling, as PD Na handed Dino his cup of lemons once again.
[It's also a shame] [Having 9 lemons for the razor]
Dino sighed dramatically as he received the lemons, but he couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his answer.
It was Seungkwan’s turn next. He approached the table with determined strides, picking up a paper and handing it over to PD Na. “I’ll go for the bulk snack,” he said confidently.
PD Na opened the paper, and a smirk crossed his face as he announced, “Seungkwan, it’s the Common Sense Quiz.”
Seungkwan’s face lit up with joy, his excitement palpable.
“You think you’re smart, huh?” Mingyu teased from the side.
“You look smart, but you’re not smart,” Dokyeom added with a playful grin.
Joshua joined in, asking innocently, “Does he look smart?”
“Do you have no intention to root for me?” Seungkwan asked, his voice dripping with mock hurt. The room filled with laughter as the members teased him further.
“Wooo! Boo Seungkwan!” Luna cheered softly from the side, breaking the silence. The sweetness of her voice made everyone laugh even harder.
“Thanks, noona,” Seungkwan said, grateful for at least one supporter.
“Seungkwan, let’s start,” PD Na said, pulling everyone back into focus. “Here’s the question: We have names for like-minded people. What do you call people who want to be financially independent so that they can retire soon?”
As PD Na started counting down, Seungkwan’s face scrunched up in thought. “Elf,” Jeonghan whispered mischievously to him.
“Hot,” Joshua murmured under his breath, causing even more distraction.
Seungkwan, getting flustered, shouted, “Get me something hot!” as if it would save him from the pressure. He glanced around in desperation before realizinghe wasn't making any sense.
“Wrong,” PD Na said, shaking his head.
Seungkwan whined, “What’s the answer?”
“It’s fire,” PD Na explained.
"Fire? He's right, then," Luna said, playfully backing up Seungkwan.
"Right! You got it. It’s fire!" S.Coups chimed in, causing the whole group to laugh at the funny coincidence between Seungkwan’s ‘hot’ and the actual answer.
[Fire= hot]
“It is hot trotter,” Wonwoo added, making everyone burst into laughter again as they exclaimed at the revelation.
“Hot!” Seungkwan yelled, turning to PD Na in one last attempt to argue his case, shocking the PD enough that he stood up from his seat.
[Producer Na is shocked]
“We love Korean. Hot!” Seungkwan continued dramatically, trying to convince PD Na with his antics.
“That just gave me goosebumps,” PD Na said, his voice full of amusement.
“Is it hot?” Seungkwan asked, looking to the rest of the members who eagerly backed Seungkwan up. Everyone began chiming in at once, urging PD Na to accept Seungkwan’s creative answer.
[Will it count as an answer?] [In times like this, all 14 people team up]
“But ‘fire’ here means like firing someone,” PD Na tried to explain, still bewildered by how the situation had spiraled into chaos.
“It’s the same spelling,” Mingyu pointed out, looking to Luna for confirmation who nodded.
Finally, PD Na gave in with a laugh. “You got it,” he said, waving his hand.
[Approved] [He won the bulk snack]
Seungkwan let out an excited shout of victory, rushing to grab the massive bags of bulk snacks. He held them up triumphantly, his face lit up with satisfaction. “Thank you. This will go perfectly with alcohol,” Seungkwan said, clutching his prize with pride.
[Jeonghan is the last customer of the day]
As Jeonghan stepped forward for his final turn, the last customer left to close out the segment, he carefully picked a paper and handed it over to PD Na with a smirk, fully aware that this was his last chance to win something for himself. The atmosphere was light, with the members watching in anticipation of what trick or witty response Jeonghan might pull.
PD Na opened the folded slip of paper, scanned it briefly, and then raised his voice with a hint of amusement, “It’s a dud.”
[Neat finish]
The members burst into laughter, clapping in delight at the anticlimactic ending, while Jeonghan raised his hands in mock celebration, chuckling along with them. “Of course, it started and ended with a dud,” Luna quipped, smiling warmly at Jeonghan’s playful shrug.
['Super' Store ends]
The segment ended with applause from everyone, and the group clapped, bowing to the staff and offering their thanks for the fun experience. They gathered their prizes, preparing to head back to the green room for a well-deserved break before the next segment began.
[The customers seem happy]
As they moved around, PD Na approached Jeonghan with a small, familiar item in hand— a baseball that had been one of the prizes. "This is for you," PD Na said, handing over the ball as Jeonghan smiled, tucking it under his arm.
[It may be closed, but there are prizes for people who were funny]
Around them, the members had started spreading out— some still lingering in the open field, tearing into Seungkwan’s bulk snack bags and laughing, while others drifted toward the break area.
[It’s closed. Please leave.]
[Post-credits scene]
[Here's what happened during the break]
Jeonghan and Luna were the first to arrive in the green room, their footsteps quiet as they entered the familiar space. The air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the field outside.
[Jeonghan and Luna are the first people here to take a rest]
Without saying a word, Jeonghan lowered himself to the floor and sat with his legs out elongated in front of him, his back resting against the wall. Luna, without hesitation, settled down beside him, placing her head on his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Both pulled out their phones, enjoying the peaceful silence that enveloped them. The room, for a moment, was theirs alone.
[Low battery mode]
“You two got here so fast,” Wonwoo’s voice broke the quiet as he strolled in a few minutes later, raising an eyebrow at their relaxed posture. Luna smiled up from Jeonghan’s lap, but neither moved, the easy comfort between them tangible.
Slowly, the rest of the members began trickling in. Mingyu, entering with his usual boundless energy, spotted Luna’s legs stretched out comfortably on the floor. Without warning, he scooped up her legs in one fluid motion, sat down beside her, and gently placed her legs back down on his lap. Luna chuckled but didn’t resist, knowing that this was typical of Mingyu.
“Why is there chroma key?” Mingyu asked, glancing around at the green walls that framed the room.
“I guess we’re doing something here later,” Dokyeom chimed in, scanning the room with a curious look.
“There are cameras everywhere,” S.Coups observed, noticing the subtle placements of hidden cameras tucked into various corners.
“You’re right,” Wonwoo said with a nod. “The unseen hide-and-seek. It’s gotta be something like that.”
[This is just Producer Na's habit]
Luna closed her phone and grinned. “Doesn’t this remind you guys of something?” The members glanced at her, waiting for the punchline. Her grin widened. “Melona Prison.”
The room erupted into laughter. The memory of their trainee days hit everyone at once— Melona Prison, the room where they spent countless hours training, named for the bright green walls and the never-ending surveillance cameras. It was their prison, their home, and the source of both fond and difficult memories.
“Ah, it really does feel like that place,” Mingyu agreed, chuckling as he absentmindedly ran his fingers on Luna’s legs.
Seungkwan, ever the playful one, suddenly tossed a blanket over Jeonghan, Luna, and Mingyu, covering them in a soft cocoon.
“Seungkwan, why are you suddenly being so nice and got us a blanket?” Jeonghan asked, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.
S.Coups, ever the leader with a teasing smile, cut in, “It’s because there are cameras.”
Seungkwan huffed. “What are you talking about? I’m always nice.”
The members settled into casual conversation, the easy flow of banter filling the room. Jeonghan, leaning back lazily, turned to the group and mused, “Not eating is the best way to prevent aging.”
“Really?” Dokyeom asked, his tone genuinely curious.
Jeonghan nodded sagely. “Yes.”
Luna looked up at him from his lap, her brow furrowing. “What nonsense is that?” she asked, half-joking, but her concern for him was clear in her voice.
With a soft sigh, Luna sat up and leaned her back against the wall, positioning herself between Jeonghan and Mingyu. The blanket remained draped over her, warm and cozy, as two pairs of hands— Jeonghan’s and Mingyu’s— rested lightly on her thigh, their touch gentle and absentminded.
[When they're talking about detoxing, the snack arrives]
A staff member entered, placing a bowl of snacks on the table next to them. Hoshi eyed the bowl, perking up. “Snack?”
Jeonghan, however, shook his head and gestured toward the snacks. “That’s all toxic.”
Luna shot him a sharp glare, not liking how casually he was talking about not eating. Her silent disapproval was palpable, and Jeonghan, noticing her expression, immediately leaned over, pressing his face against her shoulder in a small gesture of apology. He placed a quick, soft kiss on her shoulder as if that would make her relent.
Just then, another staff member entered the room, balancing a tray of iced Americanos. As she moved toward the table, her grip faltered, and the tray slipped. The cups tumbled over, and coffee spilled across the floor, eliciting gasps of shock from the members. They all stood up in an instant, rushing over to help her.
“Are you okay?” Luna asked, concern etched on her face as she crouched down to assist.
Jeonghan, however, had other thoughts. “Is this a prank?” he asked, his eyes scanning the room suspiciously.
“Ya!” Luna scolded him, elbowing him lightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you hurt?” she asked again, her attention back on the staff member.
“Are you okay?” Jeonghan finally asked.
“Is this a test? To see if we’ll help?” Dokyeom chimed in, a curious look on his face.
[They watched too much YouTube]
“Are you okay?” Hoshi asked the staff as he helped clean the floor, throwing away the coffee cups.
The members all pitched in, cleaning up the mess without a second thought. Dokyeom moved the tray out of the room, shaking his head as he glanced back at Jeonghan, chuckling. “You think this is a prank? You’re unbelievable.”
Wonwoo chuckled softly, finding the whole situation amusing. “We all thought it was a prank right away.”
“It’s because there are cameras in the room,” Luna pointed out, gathering the blankets on the floor.
“Jeonghan, you’re unbelievable,” Hoshi echoed, still chuckling.
“S.Coups keeps cleaning.” Seungkwan pointed out.
“I know. Why are you working so hard?” Dokyeom asked.
S.Coups, ever diligent, kept wiping the floor, working harder than anyone else. “I was the first to get up.” he announced.
[That's what it takes to be the leader of SEVENTEEN]
As the room settled back into calm after the brief commotion, the members exchanged glances and laughs. The day had been chaotic, but this was just a brief pause before the next round of madness. With their energy recharged, they prepared for whatever the next segment had in store.
[This is what SEVENTEEN does on their break]
[To be continued in Clip 2-2]
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Hai!!!
I saw your Lmk Macaque x pregnant reader post!!
I was hoping for Maybe one with Wukong, but with a baby boy?
I loveeee the stuff u write :D
-Cobi
Hey! Thank you so much!! I hope you like it!
Sun Wukong x pregnant!reader
Wukong during the pregnancy:
Try to imagine how protective he is when he finds out you’re pregnant. Done? Alright, throw those expectations away because it’s even more than you think. This god has enemies and lots of them, many of which have tried to get back at him recently so it’s valid that he’s not going to leave you alone for a second.
If you have work then he’s probably going to shift into a small animal or insect so he can watch over you and protect you when necessary. A bonus is that you always have your lover nearby and someone to talk to when you’re alone, turning back into his regular form and cuddling you and his child.
He and you agreed that you wouldn’t find out the sex of your baby until it was born because you wanted it to be a surprise and both of you also heard something about a gender reveal party starting a fire in another country. Considering the track record of the gang with chaos it was a smart decision to not have a reveal party and besides he’d love his cub no matter what gender they were.
Wukong fully rebuilds his hut so it’s more spacious and baby-proofed, assuring that you or his baby wouldn’t have any issues like stairs or outlets. He first enlists the help of Sandy since he feels like it’d be helpful and the friendly river demon is always calm or steady which turns out to be a great decision.
He is of course worried about you and the symptoms that come along with the pregnancy like morning sickness, weird cravings, aches or pains, and exhaustion. Anytime you have morning sickness or pain he panics and is worried that you’re in so much danger, comforting you and worrying as you throw up and shake.
Later on, he learns that most of those are normal symptoms and what to look out for although one thing he can’t get over or not find worrying is your weird food cravings. Some of them are very strange and contain foods he doesn’t even have on the mountain which is strange considering the name of his mountain and he goes to the city to get the food you want. You will have to help with the food since he’s not exactly the best at cooking.
Anytime you’re walking or show tiredness he’ll come up behind you and either pick you up entirely or lift your belly up to relieve you of the added weight you’re forced to carry. Forget about walking later in your pregnancy or at all because carrying you lets him cuddle you and be close to his precious cub.
When the time finally comes and you feel pains in your tummy followed by your water breaking all you need to do is call Wukong into the room if he isn’t already next to you, instantly he’s rushing you to the hospital and staying right by your side. Of course, he doesn’t bother throwing on a disguise of some sort since he is more concerned with you, and anyone who bothers him about being the Monkey King is getting at least a glare.
Throughout the whole process, he is right beside you, and the doctors are all sworn to silence about who the father is during the whole ordeal aside from the legal documents. His hand is in yours and practically begging for you to squeeze his hand whenever you feel pain even with the anesthesia in you.
If anything goes wrong he paces back and forth and biting his nails, resorting to praying to any of the gods he once wronged for his child to be alright. Luckily any problems are solved quickly and you both hear a soft cry, looking over to see a ginger-furred baby cub with a mix of both your features. He has a baby boy. You both have a son.
Wukong after the pregnancy:
After your son is born Wukong is constantly doting on you and temporarily putting training with MK on hold until you’re back to health, taking shifts in caring for Qinyan which is what you both decided to name your boy after all he was heart’s sunshine. Unfortunately and unlike Macaque’s little girl his son is almost always energetic and awake, wanting attention and affection much like his father with you.
Due to this, you both work as easily as possible and he insists that he takes most of the time watching over Qinyan since he doesn’t need as much as you despite your protests. Every glance at his precious son makes him feel straight joy and vows to protect him no matter the cost.
From his enemies. From everyday demons. From people with grudges or hatred for him. From heaven itself. This also means training up his son like he did with MK except better since he does admit there was a fair amount of things he could have done better and so he enlists the help of MK who happily agrees.
When the gang meets Qinyan they all flock to him and coo over the stone cub, Mei taking many pictures and the other three men murmuring how good of a parent he was going to be which of course he took offense to. Pigsy did offer him some parenting tips which did help him when he was raising MK and thanked them all, heading back with you in his arms.
There were a couple of dangerous parts of raising his son but there would be a couple of times he would wake up to show you that Qinyan was carrying his staff but not just carrying…walking around and on occasion waking stuff around the cave.
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“ 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ” ¹
≔ in which simon’s son enlists behind his back. ceramics are smashed, threats are thrown and feelings are hurt behind nonchalant expressions.
⤷ *return of the mac in the background* i wasn’t really sure which route to go down with this so i just blind wrote it. if you don’t agree with any of the following actions or words, keep it to yourself because i really do not care. it’s been a long hibernation, troops.
∷ warnings of abusive dynamics if you squint but mainly just unnerving silence and abrupt shouting | 2.3k
masterlist | dad!simon masterlist | taglist | request info
Eight thirty.
Three hours into Simon’s habitually quiet morning routine with the rising sun pouring keenly through the kitchen window, and sparrows chirping a little too loud — the mail had slid through the door.
A modest fall of envelopes, taking each one with a crease between his brows after sifting through them, eyes glossing over each addressee while walking to the kitchen table with the stack. He liked it this way. He liked the known, finding a specific comfort in knowing that the mail would come on the same dot every, single, day.
Not that there was ever anything special. Only the usual, clubcard points, screwfix leaflets, disgusting bank statements and various military envelopes on his current pension plan. Christ.
He sat down, pulling a lip upward to disregard more than half of his own mail, tossing it to the counter behind him for the bin. “What a load of shit.” Came a grumble, kissing his teeth at the mere £3.40 discount he had received for spending over £300 in Tesco.
Though the pending sigh was lost for a singular stand out letter. One he seemed to still over, chest dipping in regret. Regret for nothing in particular, only a sinking feeling for the familiar Be The Best motto cast upon the right side of one envelope — different to his Who Dares Wins slogan. The envelope wasn’t for him.
The birds hadn’t paused their songs, an ambient morning now fuelling a slow anger. An inter boiling one, but for now simmering with long breaths. In and out. His shoulders broke inward with large palms leant on the counter, craning his neck side to side to release placebo tension.
The letter mocked him. A bit of paper that had permanently strained something, “Fucking hell, son.” He picked it up, flipping it backward to frontward as if the writing would change. As if his son's name would disappear from under the window of the envelope. Though it didn’t, and the paper was slid to the depth of the counter, prompting Simon to rub at his bottom lip.
It took three minutes of silence before he was being followed downstairs by his son. Few words exchanged, and surprisingly fewer questions. They both knew, and tension had already built, bringing Simon’s anger to a heavier simmer. The prior efforts of calmness were obliterated at the sight of the kitchen once more, the pad of his foot tapping against the vinyl flooring.
“What the fuck is this?” The letter was slid across the counter, branded and bred in the British military with the familiar crest proud in the top right. It looked sinful, like something exposing, illegal even. The boy's stare was one of tiredness, palms flat on the kitchen counter to stare down at the envelope on the oak.
Fatigue hadn’t quite left his eyes, squinted in the bright dawn. “What’s what?”
Though his words were met with silence and the birds chirping outside seemed wrong. The moment had forced a thicker, uglier tension into the room, and his son rounded the counter to pick up the letter. Brash and pasted, once again, in military branding.
His eyes fell to his father.
A picture of disappointment, veiled with frustration through a glare, one so strong it almost felt off-putting. Stress seemed evident via the way his hand had pushed toward the back of his neck, running upward and down the front of his face.
“What is it?” The same question, though this time quiet and sincere. His eyes had regrettably softened for all of two seconds before a leg had begun bouncing in compromise after taking a seat in pre-ceasefire.
“Nothing.” A teenage mumble.
Simon laughed dryly, shaking his head with a palm flat on the counter. “This.” He raised his hand, now only the tips of his fingers on the letter. “This isn’t nothing.” Eyes catching his mirror image, a lanky eighteen year old with next to no muscle. It was devastating, really.
“It’s just mail.”
“Open it.” A stern command, standing up and boring his eyes further into the boy before him. His height and build was much more significant, effectively towering over the six foot kid with all of his broadness.
“It’s none of your business, like.” The croaked words of a voice just woken were ones Simon raised brows at.
“Anything with that crest is my business.”
The similarities between his younger self and the boy before him was something Simon internally hated. He hated that his son had genetically taken not only his originally scrawny, defenceless build but also his raging attitude and temper issues. Dark eyes and accompanying circles, a rare smile and sigh of laughter.
Though not one bone had been broken in his body, his nose wasn’t squinted from various punches and his skin hadn’t been plagued by scars of battle. Something Simon could always draw a line between, though, he no longer held that power.
The kid begrudgingly opened the letter, hunching shoulders inward as if to shield it from his father. A congratulatory letter, one addressed to his name in bold letters with an offer to train at the military academy for a reserved cadetship upon completion.
The silence was loud.
Simon knew what it was before it had been opened. His fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose, and rubbed at his temples. “Fucking hell mate.” A deep breath was taken, chest puffing out with the inhale. “Fuck sake.”
His son felt like a child again, small and inwardly anxious for his fathers reaction. Not that Simon was ever violent, not ever, but he was a different kind of frightening. Silent. He gave you the option to take whatever you’d wanted from his step back, though fiery eyes only pushed you down one slope. Anxiety and paired overthinking, it came as part and parcel of the Riley name.
“I was goin’t tell you.”
Another laugh escaped Simon, “At what point?” The side of his lip curved upward, though there was no real amusement. “Look at me.”
There was a scoff from his son in response, shaking his head with eyes locking back to the letter. Ink printed in gratification. “Nothin’ to do with you though is it?” The second part came as a mumble for the internal struggle to hold back aggression. Though it slipped through, naturally.
“What did I say? Fuckin’ hell.” Simon growled, taking the envelope from the boy and skim-reading it. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “The fifth, next month, yeah?” Eyes flicking to his son who had shrugged, slinking off behind Simon to look through cupboards in evident dismissal.
“Dunno–”
“You’re out.”
They had spoken in unison, each person cancelling the other out to create a bout of eye contact. “What?” The quirk in his lip was a giveaway of building frustration, eyes cast directly across his father who stood just taller than him. “I’m out?”
“You’re out the house.” Simon slid the letter across the counter in finality, “As soon as you leave for that camp. You’re gone.”
“What the fuck.”
“Big enough to enlist?” His tone was venomous, something his son was unable to contest. “Big enough to fucking leave.” The letter had been picked up by the kid, eyes skimming it over, eyes darting across the page while familiar anger had slowly built.
“Fuck off.” He mumbled, brows pulled together in a foul mix of annoyance and evident upset over his fathers’ dismissal. “Any other dad would be proud of that.” The letter dropped to his abdomen, two shaky hands still clutching to the torn envelope. “Not you though, yeah, not fuckin’ you. ‘Course not.”
There was a pause before a crash.
A split decision of anger, one Simon mirrored at that age. A raging feeling of internal emotion that was only alleviated in bursts of aggression and breakage - punching holes in doors or smashing dishware. There was never a safe space to feel, therefore it came out unwillingly.
For his son, it was a failing on his behalf as a father. That space was never created for lack of recovery had never allowed real estate.
Multiple ceramics flown off the counter with one hand swoop, “Such a cunt.” His chest heaved and Simon’s eyes bore into his. Solemnity follows each and every moment with an unnerving silence, though it wasn’t continued when aggravated palms had landed on his chest, a teenage attempt to express.
“Don’t.” A bark, complete with snarling and a metaphorical showing of canines. A hand caught the boy's forearm, an admittedly tighter than required grip. “Don’t you fucking dare.” And for a moment, he feared he sounded like his father.
Though he did dare.
A rebellion as it was.
Again, a heavy palm had landed on his fathers’ chest - uncaught and if any stronger than the age of eighteen would’ve at least budged Simon. And, god, did he sound like his father with the promise of violence, a grip on his son’s shirt to hold him against the wall at the action alone.
A huff of air fell through his nose, head tilted, “If you enlist and you have this attitude,” The words were spoken through gritted teeth, eyes fixed to the wall he held the boy against to speak just above his ear. “They’ll send you right fucking back.” Though his son no longer recognised dad. This was someone else, someone he was never to meet. “Show some fucking respect.” A tone orchestrated of octaves reserved for Ghost.
You had come down with the crash of ceramics, fully aware that Simon was in knowing of your presence by the way his grip had rid, stepping back with hands to his head. “What the fuck is going on?” You scowled at your husband who was already lighting a cigarette.
After a short inhale, “He’s enlisting.” The smoke tumbled from his lip that turned upward to accommodate a low but amused chuckle. “He’s enlisting, lovie. Our boy.” The cigarette was then pointed to the teenager. “He’s enlisting so he can run around with a fucking rifle, kill one or two people because it's what? It’s a laugh is it? A fucking game?” Though the words were intensely directed to you, waving the smoke around before taking another inhale and shaking his head.
“It’s not that serious, fucking-”
The words were cut off by a harsh slap of the counter and a rumble of a scold. “Not that serious?” It could only have woken the whole house and Simon ditched the cigarette to lift his shirt up, various scars and burn marks stretched across his front and back. “What's this? Eh?”
“Calm down.” You warned, or at least attempted to.
“Calm down? He’s going to get himself fucking killed.” A bite, one without intention of ceasing.
“You’re not dead.” The kid provided.
“I died years ago, son.” His eyes were naturally narrowed in their frustration, slow on the look-up, and shoulders tense through chest heaving. Up and down, and up and down.
The kid mirrored his fathers’ lost expressions.
“Right.” You then interrupted, placing delicate hands on the shoulders of your boy to steer him out of the room, letter still in his hands.
“Coddle him. Tell him he’ll be fine,” The smoke from the cigarette danced around his hand, lifted back upward for a long, slow inhale, eyes burnt to your back. “That the world is a safe place and he won’t get hurt.” His voice had lowered.
But there was a mutual understanding of the lie, that nothing was fine and he wasn’t going to come out unscathed. Mentally, if not physically.
It had bled into an argument between the two of you after, pointed fingers of accusation and bursts of tears had split from your eyes. His frustration turned into ready anger, then dismissal, refusing to believe the reality.
“What’s your fucking issue?” Was the question you had barked once downstairs, four words that seemed obvious in their asking though Simon still quirked a brow. “There’s no need. No fucking need at all for that.”
He shook his head, looking down at you over his cigarette while you swept up smashed ceramics. “Don’t act like you don’t know.” His voice low, cigarette mumbling the words with an inhale.
You dropped arms to your sides, pointedly tapping the foot of the brush against the floor. “Like I don’t know what?” The accompanied scowl was one Simon’s eyes darted back and forth from, looking away out the window before tipping his cigarette. “It’s something he wants.”
“He’s going to get himself killed.”
“Ever the fucking pessimist.”
“Once he leaves,” The cigarette was acting as punctuation, pointed toward the door in far gesture. “He’s out.” Tone unnervingly quiet. One that warned any other argument off, though not yours.
“Do me a favour, yeah?” You continued to sweep the ceramics. “Realise this isn’t about you.” Looking up at the way he had shifted in his stance, arm now crossed over his chest to tuck under his opposing armpit.
“Fuck—“ He laughed. “It’s not about me.”
“You just kick off immediately.”
“Hardly.”
“The fucking state of the floor, Simon.” You scorned, raising your voice to take his attention from the mindless cigarette smoking. “He’s your son. Treat him like it.”
“When he learns respect-”
“He doesn’t respect you for that fucking attitude. It’s a battle, let it go.”
His eyes met yours to stand down, ditching the cigarette before nodding absently. His silence was telling of an awful mood, one he would carry for the next few days if uninterrupted.
Tension grew thicker than a rope knot dramatically fast in the Riley household, and whether granted or not, there was only the one man to blame. Walking on eggshells whenever he would come home from a bad deployment was only fit to last so long, and you couldn’t change him.
But he didn’t want to change himself either.
≔ unedited, and the tags probably won’t work. this is all i got and i’ll slam my fist on an ikea desk, this. is. all. i. got.
simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @iluvoaldmen @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @spencerreidisbae123 @paperbag-prncss @cookiecutta @sluttyforsimon @loveangelic @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @hayleybarnesx
@bunthebunny23
song of the day (time of writing)
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod mwii#cod mw2#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod mw fanfiction#ghost mw2#cod mw2 x reader#cod mw3#cod mwiii#call of duty#ghost call of duty#Spotify
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