#and yes the action scenes were cool

[vanillacorpse]

oldboy was such an insane movie. i watched it tonight. the fact that the only thing i’d heard about it was from a video i watched years ago of a couple of film bros hailing its action scenes... lmfao i went into that thinking it would be like john wick. it wasn’t!

[r0semultiverse]

Okay so Avatar shrines are the exception. Still wild. Aang having weird gender feels after becoming & being possessed by a strong avatar lady is my headcanon now!

I know I’m overthinking it, but couldn’t they just make or find a small mobile avatar shrine & take it with them everywhere?? I mean we see something like that in Zuko’s ship in his room. 👀 I mean I’d rather see Aang figure out his power on his own & with his friends, but I figure I would bring that up again. Just carry around an emergency fuck you button basically. Lmao

[seaweedstarshine]

I am swamped with catch-up at work after my week at My First Ever San Diego ComicCon, but in lieu of doing anything else here, here’s the a weird video I got taken in the Doctor Who booth (I suspect I'll get time to be on tumblr again more mid next week).

[ponderingmoonlight]

Saving Genya from his big brother only to make out with Sanemi

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,9k

Synopsis: It was never an easy job, being the only one who's able to calm the wind hashira down. There was never more than respect and understanding between both of you. Until you bodly decided to stand up for Genya, until Sanemi finally reveals his true feelings...

Warnings: We're talking about Sanemi so language at violence lol, aggressive making out

I love love love Sanemi and I desperately hope you do as well hehe, enjoy and leave a comment/like/reblog <3

There he stands with his hot temper filling the air and his ruthless beatings torturing the poor souls in front of you. Hashira training never sounded like fun to you, especially when you consider who you’d have to deal with.

Sanemi Shinazugawa, especially.

“Get back up, brat. We’re not finished yet.”

You watch from afar as he hits the poor red-haired poor over and over again. Without any mercy, without the slightest hint of regret. And still, you can’t help but ponder about the way his arms flex and show every vein that decorates his skin. How he moves so effortlessly that your eyes are almost unable to follow. No, it’s not a secret that apart from being a madman, Sanemi Shinazugawa is hot as hell.

And your crush since you joined the demon slayer corps.

“Don’t you think that’s enough for today? The poor boy isn’t even able to stand up straight anymore”, you interfere when he’s about to hit him once again.

 "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were the expert on disciplining. How about me fetching you a chair so you can supervise more comfortably?”

All pairs of eyes are set on you while you step towards the scene in death silence. Apart from everyone else, you aren’t here to train under Sanemi. No, you are a very capable demon slayer yourself, so good that you even managed to beat Mitsuri from time to time. You definetely don’t need Sanemi to train.

In fact, you are here because you’re the only one who is able to tame him apart from Kagaya-sama himself.

"Well, if you ask me so nicely, a chair actually doesn’t sound bad for the next time. Meanwhile, how about we wrap this up? Enough's enough."

Sanemi’s venomous eyes meet yours, tempting you to lose your cool. Within the past few months, you’ve learned how to act around him and that his actions don’t reflect his true feelings at all. Deep within, he is the most caring and compassionate person you’ve ever met, so tender that you’d simply melt away in his touch. He never failed to protect you even if not needed, always made sure you are save before looking out for himself. Damn, he even left his desert for you to eat.

But on the other hand, he’s very good at hiding that side of him.

“Fine. Call it quits for today then. But we two will have a talk later”, he finally mutters before turning around and disappearing without any trace.

Your heart skips a few beats before you’re able to think straight again. Oh, how much you adore him. Just the sheer thought of meeting him alone sends shivers down your spine even though nothing ever happened between you two. After all, you’re only here to look out for him, right?

“Thank you for standing up for me. Now you’ll get in trouble for helping me out”, the red-haired boy lying in front of your feet speaks out while dragging himself up.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I can handle him. Are you alright?”

In the matter of seconds, your eyes scan his body for serious injuries. Nothing, as you expected. Even though his training methods seem rough, he’d never allow himself to truly lay hands on another corps member. Not even him, Kamado Tanjiro. The boy who has what Sanemi always dreamed of.

“Yes, thanks to you. We really need a break after training day and night. Sorry, may I ask you for your name?

“My name is (y/n). Nice to finally meet you in person, Kamado Tanjiro.”

His eyes widen in an instant when you tell him your name. Even though you’re not a hashira, it seems like a lot of corps member know you. A decently skilled swordswoman, a trained doctor who made sure that no one ever died as long as you were around.

“The angel”, he breathes out.

“What an honor to meet you in person!”

In an instant, he gets on his knees and places his head on his flat palms. A pose of deep respect, so intimate that your cheeks heat up in an instant.

“Please, lift yourself off the ground. I don’t deserve your praise-“

“You deserve so much more than that!”, Tanjiro interrupts in an instant.

“Leave her alone. Can’t you see that you’re making her uncomfortable?”, another voice mutters from behind.

A very familiar voice you haven’t heard in quite some time, that makes your heart jump up and down in joy.

“Genya!”, you cry out.

You waste no time. In an instant, you lunge yourself at the now much taller boy and wrap your arms around him so tightly that he cannot escape. Oh, you really missed him. Even though Sanemi states over and over how much he hates his little brother, you always had a weak spot for him. Maybe because you’re able to see his soft side as well or because of the cute way he blushes when you look at him.

“Genya, are you alright? Your face is so red-“

“SHUT UP”, he barks at Tanjiro while you giggle to yourself.

“Why didn’t you send me a crow like I told you to? I was beyond worried about you. But oh I’m so proud. Did you really help to kill an upper moon demon and supported your friends?”

“Well I-“

“Yes he did! He was a big help for all of us!”, Tanjuro interferes immediately.

“(y/n), didn’t I tell you we need to talk?”, someone suddenly barks from the inside.

All color drains from Genya’s face immediately as he turns around with you.

There he stands with his arms crossed in front of his muscular chest, eyes almost piercing through you while the vein on his forehead threatens to pop any minute.

Your heart sinks in an instant. No, don’t let him control you like that, not when you know that he’s just…jealous?

“I needed to talk to Genya first”, you clarify.

“(y/n), please don’t-“

“Oh, is that so? Why would you even look at that trash?”

Thick anger rushes through your veins like the flood. If there’s one thing you hate about Sanemi’s attitude, it’s the way he talks about his little brother.

“I’m looking at you as well, don’t I?”

He flinches ever so slightly, his furrowed eyes now piercing through you like a thousand knives.

“Get inside. Right now.”

“Get some rest you two”, you quickly shout over your shoulder before you disappear into the house with a furious Sanemi by your side.

He slams the door shut behind you so rapidly that it rains plaster.

“What was that, huh?”, he speaks out with threatening low voice.

“I asked your little brother about his mission.”

He cages you between the wall with no way to escape, dangerous eyes locked with yours.

“I told you to stay away from him.”

“And I told you that I don’t care.”

“Why don’t you leave, then?”

“Because I’m the only one who’s able to tame you down”, you bite back.

He huffs in sheer annoyance while pushing himself off the wall. Why does he have to look so vulnerable and strong at the same time, so scary but also mesmerizing?

“You won’t force me to talk to him”, he finally speaks out.

“I want him to leave the corps and get as far away from me as possible.”

“Away from you or away from the danger?”

“I don’t care about him.”

“So you don’t care about me as well?”

Thick silence hangs between both of you while you stare at each other. To this day he never revealed how he truly feels about you. Does he hate you, respect you, love you? You might never know. But your influence on him speaks for itself.

“Go to sleep. We’ll get up early tomorrow.”

Without another word, he leaves you standing in a new wave of ponderings and emotions.

-a few hours later-

Your eyes dart open for no reason. Aimlessly, your orbs roam around the dark room, ears searching for a single sound.

Voices. Shouting. Blows.

Blows?

“Big brother?”

Your heart drops to the floor. That’s Genya. Why does the floor start to vibrate now?

Out of instinct, you yank out of your room, follow a wave of destruction until you finally get what’s going on.

There they stand. Genya with fright written all over his face and Sanemi with orbs so empty you’re almost able to see through them.

Your guts turn uncomfortably as he speeds forward so fast that your eyes are almost unable to follow. Fuck, is he about to pierce through Genya’s eyes?

You waste no time. In the matter of milliseconds, you drag Genya to the ground and therefore safe him from Sanemi’s merciless attack.

“Sanemi.”

You breathe out his name like a prayer.

“Get out of line, (y/n).”

“I can’t allow you to hurt him!”, you cry out, hands still holding onto Genya’s trembling body for dear life.

“You leave me no choice, then.”

It happens faster than you’re able to think. He dashes forward while grabbing the handle of his sword tightly, his eyes and blade darted towards you.

But you don’t even think about leaving Genya. No, you stand your ground in front of him, glossy orbs watching as his blade crashes down straight towards your face.

Until it stops.

“I said move”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“And I said I won’t. Leave Genya alone.”

“Are you really putting up a fight with me, (y/n)? Here, right in front of everyone else?”

You couldn’t care less about the stinging fact that the others are watching you drowned in fear. This goes too far without any doubt.

“You don’t have to do this, Sanemi. Not when we both know you love your little brother dearly”, you breathe out.

“Come on Genya, let’s leave”, Tanjiro’s voice mutters behind you, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.

“I don’t love anyone. Not him, not you, I don’t give a shit about anyone around here”, Sanemi barks back at you with nothing but hatred spilling from his mouth.

Genya doesn’t deserve those words reaching his ear. But apart from that, you can’t escape the sting that fills your heart with agony.

Him, not loving anyone? Of course you never really expected the wind hashira to actually like you back. Of course even him respecting you is more than you could have ever asked for. But somehow you still hoped. Each and every night, you imagined what if would feel like to lay in his arms while listening to his steady heartbeat. Every free second, you pondered about how his lips must feel pressed against yours, how it feels to fall asleep and wake up next to him.

And now he tells you that you mean nothing to him.

You swallow hard, desperately trying to avoid his gaze at any cause. No, you can’t afford to lose yourself right here when everyone is watching.

Out of instinct, you straighten your shoulders and cross your arms in front of your chest.

“If that’s the case, I’m leaving. Good night, wind hashira.”

You don’t care about waiting for an answer. All you want to do right now is going back into your room, going back into safety where he’s not around. How stupid to even consider that Sanemi Shinazugawa could feel anything apart from a little respect for you. You, nothing but an ordinary slayer, still too weak to be called a real hashira. You, apparently nothing but a fool.

Hot tears start to swell up your eyes and cause your vision to get foggy. You never allowed yourself to cry over something so minor. What did you expect, a gut-wrenching love story? With the wind hashira?

“Why did you turn your back on me?”

You flinch so hard that you almost trip over your futon.

“What are you doing here?”, you cry out.

Fuck, this is him, without any doubt. What on earth is Sanemi doing in your room? Just now, when you’re looking like a mess.

“Are you crying?”

“Even if I do, why would you care?”

When your gaze drifts towards his, you feel like drowning and taking your first breath at the same time. He looks so distressed that your heart wrenches all over again. Like a lost puppy, he draws closer until he cages you against the wall. His eyes seem to stare right through your soul, make it hard to produce a single logical thought.

“Why would you even think that, idiot?”

His hand yanks your chin up, forces you to stare at him even more intensely.

“Because you said so yourself”, you bite back.

“You shouldn’t have interrupted me in the middle of teaching Genya a lesson.”

“Teaching him a lesson? You’re breaking that poor boy’s heart-“

“Breaking him? I’m saving him, goddamn!”, he blurts out so suddenly that you shake.

“Saving him? What are you t-“

“Poking his eyes out isn’t that big of a deal, he’d definitely survive. But his career at the demon slayer corps would have been over and out, he would have been saved”, he mumbles frantically.

“That would have meant he’s save, that would have meant he doesn’t die in this shit-“

“Sanemi”, your hands grab his face gently, try to get him out of his constant mumbling.

“He’ll die just like our mother did.”

“Sanemi.”

“I can’t fucking protect you all. Not when you’re around as well, not when you’re not listening just like he does-“

“Sanemi.”

When your eyes meet his, he looks like a troubled child scared of thunder. His glossy orbs stare at you desperately, make your heart ache all over again. All that rambling, giving Genya his coldest shoulder…to protect him?

“You’re just as reckless as him. Not looking out for yourself. What am I supposed to do without both of you around? What if I lose you two as well?”

“You won’t lose anyone, I’m good enough to-“

“How can you know?”, he screams into your face, his voice vibrating through every cell of your body like thunder.

“How can you promise you won’t die? One wrong move and you’re gonna bite the dust. Or you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time like Rengoku-“

It might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life, so reckless that you’ll lose Sanemi completely.

But you don’t care.

Before he’s able to talk about the grief within the past any further, you crash your lips against his while holding onto his face for dear life.

Over and over, again and again until your mind finally shuts up, until it’s only you and Sanemi and his puffy lips against yours.

He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you allow your knees to give in, bodies resting against each other so desperately that you feel like dreaming. Countless nights you pondered about the way his frame feels pressed against yours, what the wind hashira might taste like.

Oh, the reality is so much better, so good that you have to convince yourself you’re not dreaming.

“You’re driving me insane. Since the first time I saw you training with Obanai, since you beamed at me with that sickening gorgeous smile. I can’t escape you. I can’t fucking lose you”, he hisses against your mouth before entangling his tongue with yours all over again.

Sparks fly, stars take up your sight completely as you threaten to choke on all the affection and love that hits you with full force.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, you breathe out.

“And risking you’ll never talk to me again? You have to be out of your mind.”

“I’m out of my mind because of you. Because you make me feel all those strange things”, you puff out.

Faster than you’re able to react, he pulls his face away from yours enough to almost drown inside your glossy orbs. For a moment, all the does is staring at you as you desperately gasp for air with your chest rising and falling rapidly. This really happened. Did you really make out with the wind hashira after he tried to murder his little brother, after all the fighting and rambling of today?

“You’re my weakness, (y/n)”, he finally blurts out.

“And I hate that power you have over me. Especially that everyone else knows it.”

You tilt your head to the side. Oh, that’s so true. After all, this is the reason why you were sent here. You are here to make sure he doesn’t go too rough on his students, that his hot temper is kept at least a little cool.

Well, given the heat that radiates from him at this very moment, the last part definitely didn’t go as planned.

“They know about my feeling for you as well.”

His eyes widen while he stares you up and down in sheer disbelief.

“Stop fucking with me”, he grumbles.

“You were too blind to realize that I loved you for so long while I didn’t even think about the opportunity that you might like me back”, you admit with your cheeks turning as hot as the sun.

“You fool.”

He yanks your chin towards his face, a small smile decorating his usual so irritated face.

“I’ll definitely never let you go again now.”

His lips crash into yours and leave your mind blank all over again.

“But I’ll still kick your ass for talking to me so disrespectfully and interfering with Genya.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine (thank you sooo much for helping me creating reader for the cover)

[newobsessionweekly]

You will always be my Boot

Main masterlist | The rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x FBI!FormerRookie!reader Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: You are a former FBI agent and come back to your roots after many years. Little did you know Tim waited for you all these years.

A/N: This is my first Tim Bradford one ever and I know I need some improvement in this police area. I'm thinking about making a part two of this. Anyways, let me know what you think. Have a wonderful day, bubs! Lots of love.

Requested: Yes Words: 2.5k Requests for Tim Bradford are open! GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

The flight was exhausting and the shitty bed from that cheap motel was even worse. They'd think an FBI agent would afford a five star hotel and a warm meal, instead of that reheated noodles you had last night, but LA is expensive as shit. One thing you didn't miss about this city were those self-centred Hollywood "stars" and the exorbitant prices.

You watched the time over and over again, shaking your foot nervously. You are ready to go, but you just can't gather the courage to face those police officers again. The bathroom light is dim and you put the blame on that for your horrendous bun, not because you lost practice. You redo the bun one more time and watch yourself in the mirror. LAPD uniform hugs your curves so perfectly and the overloaded belt accentuates your waist. You allow yourself to wear a small smile today, for the sake of old times.

The tranquility of the morning was shattered by the unmistakable sound of gunshots ringing out in the distance. Instantly alert, with your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins, you grabbed your service weapon and badge, slipping them into your waistband as you hurried out the door and into the cool morning air.

As you made your way down the narrow staircase of the motel, the sounds of the gunshots grew louder, sending a chill down your spine. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, you quickly assessed the situation—a group of armed men engaged in a shootout with one another only a few blocks away. Confusion made its way to your mind; why would some people from the same gang fire at each other?

As you analyse their tattoos, some have it on their neck, some on their wrist, it snapped. You recognise those tattoos from your FBI files that lay on your motel bed, two different markings, two different gangs. Dangerous ones, wanted ones.

Without a second thought, you sprang into action, ducking behind parked cars and storefronts, you closed in on the scene, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to confront them. There's no time to wait for backup. And who'd you call anyway?

With a burst of adrenaline, you emerged from cover and sprinted towards the gunmen, your weapon drawn and ready. The element of surprise worked in your favor as you caught them off guard, their attention momentarily diverted as they turned to face you.

"Drop your weapons! FBI!" you shouted, your voice ringing out clear and commanding above the chaos of the shootout.

For a moment, there was hesitation in their eyes, uncertainty flickering across their faces as they weighed their options. But then, with a defiant snarl, they raised their guns once more, their fingers tightening on the triggers.

Time seemed to slow as the standoff unfolded, each moment stretched to its breaking point as you and the felons locked eyes, the tension thick in the air. And then, with a burst of gunfire, the situation erupted into chaos once more.

Bullets flew past you in a deadly dance as you returned fire, each shot ringing out like a thunderclap in the stillness of the morning. You managed to hit two of them, one in the shoulder, that dropped the gun and grabbed their wound in shock and the other one in the thigh, forcing them to fall into the ground. You didn't had enough handcuffs to secure them all, so it was your priority to stop them from running away until the officers arrived.

It's crazy to see how four rival gang members united to get rid of you when seconds before were about to blow their heads off.

"I said, drop your weapons, now!" you demanded to the masked one still standing, gunshots finally stopping. You didn't see any response or will to do so and that made you place aim for their legs as well, forcing them to collapse. "Hands behind your back, intertwine your fingers."

Before handcuffing them, you pulled up your phone and searched for that one number.

"Sergeant Grey" the voice on the other side responded.

"Agent Y/L/N, FBI. I have in custody two of Crenshaw and two of Tongan. I need backup and R/A. Crenshaw bulevard with W 66th Street." you informed Sergeant Grey.

"Copy that."

Not long after you made the call, three cars and an ambulance pulled up to the address you gave. The look on the officers faces when they saw you holding one handcuffed suspect and three injured on the street, was as satisfying as catching those. Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride wash over you.

"Y/L/N, FBI." you presented yourself to the officers, you showed your badge and shake their hands, each wearing a mortified expression after they heard your name. "After they're checked, let's get going. I'm late for my first day." you demanded and the six officers nodded as an understanding.

You could tell by the look on their faces, some of them are rookies. You can't forget those eyes, you had the exact same expression when you were a rookie and as Tim as your T.O. didn't help much.

"Agent Y/L/N." a serious tone came from just as a serious man. Sergeant Grey standing tall and imposing in the booking room as you walked the men to one of the benches and let another officer take care of him. As you approached the man, a big and friendly smile appeared on his face "It's so good to have you back."

"Good to be back, sir." you accepted his handshake with that small smile from the morning that you promised yourself you'd be wearing all day.

Your name was on everyone's lips as you walked through the station besides Grey.

It had been years since you last walked these familiar corridors, but as you made your way toward the meeting room, a sense of nostalgia washed over you.

"Is that Y/N?" one officer whispered to another, having the impression you didn't hear them.

"Yeah. Still hot. Heard she's working with FBI now." that remark made you turn your head in their direction, locking your eyes with one of them as he swallowed the lump in his throat and returning to his seat.

Inside, the meeting room was filled with the buzz of conversation as officers gathered for the morning briefing. All eyes turned to you as you entered, whispers and murmurs following in your wake. You could feel the weight of their scrutiny, their curiosity palpable in the air as they watched the former FBI agent return to their ranks.

"Good morning everyone. Sorry I'm late, had to take care of something so early this morning because someone doesn't sleep." he glanced at you and the murmur stopped when the eyes landed on you standing in the doorframe. "Take a sit." you nodded and sat down in the first row.

"Is that Y/N?" Lucy whispered to Nolan and Jackson. It was impossible to shake the feeling of being under a microscope, every move you made scrutinized by your colleagues.

"Hell, yeah, she is!" Jackson laid his eyes on you and gave you an appreciation smile.

As the sergeant launched into the details of the day's assignments and priorities, you found it difficult to concentrate, the weight of everyone's eyes on you making it hard to focus. But you pushed through, determined to prove yourself in your new role as a police officer.

"Today we made serious progress towards the gangs that won't let Los Angeles sleep in peace. Agent Y/L/N, first thing in the morning had in custody four men, almost as important as the gang leaders." your mind zoned out, you already knew that story. But what you didn't know and what's really eating you inside is that specific blond man.

In the corner of the room, Talia and Angela exchanged knowing glances, their whispers barely audible over the sergeant's voice.

"Can you believe she's back?" Angela muttered.

"I heard she was with the FBI," Talia replied, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Wonder what brought her back here."

"From an FBI agent to an officer? Seems like a joke to me..." Lopez paused as she looked at Tim for a moment. "Maybe something bad happened. Maybe she did something bad." the excitement of her voice was unquestionable.

Meanwhile, Tim Bradford watched from his seat at the front of the room, his expression unreadable as he observed the scene unfolding before him. Memories of your time together as rookie and training officer flashed through his mind, the bond you had shared still lingering despite the years apart.

"I heard she was the best rookie this station ever had. And it was his rookie, can you believe that!" Angela's mind was focused on one subject and one only. She is more than convinced that something has happened between you and Tim.

"Almost 100 on every exam and she was the only person this grumpy smiled to!" Talia added, making Tim shift uncomfortable in his seat, his eyes not letting the sight of you even for a second.

"That's not true. And I'm not grumpy, I do smile..." Tim responded to their feminine gossip, something he's not doing too often. He still thinks it's a waste of time this kind of conversation and one's personal life is no one's business, but maybe, maybe he wants to know more about you. "Sometimes"

He was wondering as well what could've possibly had happened to make you come back to LA, knowing very well how much you hated the city and how much you suffered the moment you stepped on that plane.

Tim's heart was below the sea's surface, buried inside the burning hell somewhere since the moment he caught a glimpse of your siluete walking around these hallways again. His hands were sweating and the lump in his throat could swallow him.

But you were nowhere far away from that feeling either. All the feelings from back then were coming alive faster than the light-speed and the memories of the time you were his rookie, the looks, the touches, the sweetness of his words alongside the glances from your colleagues made your eyes fill with bittersweet tears. You had to raise your head a little and blink as fast as you could to make those tears disappear and take a few deep breaths to calm down. You have to put this feelings aside. Now.

As the meeting drew to a close, Sergeant Gray turned his attention to you, his gaze lingering for a moment before moving on to the next item on the agenda.

"You're dismissed and be safe out there!" Gray closed the meeting and everyone rushed to start the day.

You waited for everyone to clear the room, mostly because you hate crowded places and people jostling around. You kept your head low, already full of everyone staring. When the room cleared just enough, you wanted to make your way to Sergeant Gray's office when a big, warm hand landed on your shoulder, freezing you on spot.

Some time ago, you knew by heart every single trace and curve of that hand, and now your mind doesn't disappoint you remembering it all with just a blink. His breath winding down your spine as minty as always.

You hated him. You hated yourself. Damn, you hate everyone and everything this moment.

"Y/N." his voice was as overwhelming as always and it made your feet weak. It made you weak and it hit you hard right into your bones. You didn't think twice and as you raised your chin up high and faked a confident expression, you turned to your heels to face him. Once and for all. "I can't believe you're back."

"Tim" you nodded, greeting him with a smile. This time a genuine one, wider and more powerful than the one you had forced yourself to wear all day. Not a forced one, but one that you found you couldn't hide. "It's been a while." you cleared your throat and searched his eyes.

They were staring right into your soul with the same spark and love you've missed so much. It seems like you've never changed, seems like everything is just the way it was. Like he was your TO, teaching you, teasing you, caring for you, having your back and you were his rookie, learning from him, turning into the best version of him, making him proud.

The air between you crackled with unspoken tension as you struggled to find the right words to say. The spark that had once ignited between you still burned bright, despite the years and distance that had separated you.

"How are you? How's Isabel?"

"Uh-Yeah..." he paused for a moment, the light in his eyes fading. "We separated a few months ago."

Tim wished this words would hurt more admitting them in front of you, would hurt just as much as he hurt you. But it didn't. That wound is almost healed, making room for another one to open.

"Oh, Tim. I'm so sorry" you were sincere, though not with all your heart. You knew it must've hurt like hell having in mind how much Tim loved his wife. But at some point he loved you too. Maybe not as much as her, maybe more, maybe less.

"But I'm fine, yeah. It's past now." he cracked a smile, resting his arm on the table as close to your thigh as you could feel its warmth. "What about you? Making an entrance for sure. Catching those guys from Crenshaw and Tongan, impressive. I taught you well." oh, he knows what he's doing and watching your shield breaking before his eyes, he's delighted.

"Oh, don't be so cocky—"

"Why are you here? Why now?" he asked. You rested your hand on your belt and raised an eyebrow as a response to his questions.

"You know I can't tell you." he sighed at your words, realising just now maybe the things are not how they were. You are not as open to him or talkative as before. You are not in love with him as you were before. But he's not done trying yet.

"Dinner tonight?" Tim was bold for sure and his question took you by surprise. You weighed the answer, but before you could say yes, he continued "I can't lose the chance again. I can't lose you again, Boot."

"Okay, yes!" you pushed your finger into his chest "Stop making those puppy eyes, you know I can't resist." he laughed and before you can walk away, he grabbed your waist and kissed your forehead gently. His lips lingering on your skin few more seconds, memorising your sweet scent, trying to remember it, like if he could ever forget.

"It's good to have you back, Boot!"

"Stop calling me 'Boot'!" you fought back, annoyed, but he enjoyed every moment. He missed you like hell and now all of this is hitting him hard in the face like a... boot. "I'm not your Boot" you persisted.

"Oh, you'll always be my Boot!"

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

maybe a lil fic with steve yk like he thinks you're together but r just thinks that they're just friends cuz she thinks he acts that way with everyone (he doesn't). so when he's like "we're going on that dinner date, right?" and she's just so confused and flabbergasted "since when did we start dating??"

I've missed your writing on my dashboard ily<3

i’m glad someone misses my writing. i hope this is okay🩷

steve harrington x fem!reader (this ended up being long… i’m shocked)

masterlist

“here comes loverboy.”

your brows pinched together at max’s words. looking over your shoulder to see steve leaving the register, heading back towards your booth with a pastel pink box in hand.

the boy slid into the open seat beside you. shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. his warmth radiating off his body blankets you from the february chill that seeps into the diner’s walls.

“what’s in the box?” robin questioned while making a grab for it. steve quickly slapped- gently tapped- the approaching hand away. robin making a scene for no one.

“not for you, buckley. for my favorite girl.” and steve looked directly at you.

“aw, thanks steve-o.” max fawned. a simple giggle slipped from your mouth while steve rolled his eyes. “not for you either, rugrat. only for my favorite, most special girl.” finally sliding the pastry box in front of you.

steve tapped his fingers against the table top, “they had your go-tos so i got one of each.” your cheeks warmed as you opened the top, “you didn’t have to, stevie.”

“yeah, stevie. what about us?” robin pointed between her and max, a twisted pout to her face.

steve eyed them, “what about you two? get your own stuff.” huffing like they were insane to think steve would do anything of that level for them.

eyeing the different options you grabbed a donut and proceeded to spilt the item into four small bites. handing off two for max and robin, replacing them with another two, one for you and the other for steve. hand waiting for steve, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist delicately as he bites into his awaiting treat. you chuckle at the silliness.

“you too are gross.” robin declared with her mouth full. steve copied her actions, “says you. close your mouth while chewing.” placing his hand over his mouth in after thought.

“so,” speaking up to change the subject, “any nice plans this week?” referring to valentine’s day on wednesday.

“lucas says he’s taking me some place special, which might be the arcade.” max played it cool but you could tell it affected her in a good way.

“band practice is my special valentine. can’t complain too much.” robin punctuated her sentence with a sip of water.

“what’s the dynamic duo gonna do on the day of love?” max teased, batting her lashes while cupping her cheeks.

you shrugged, “don’t think we have plans-“ “yes we do.” steve is quick to fix you misunderstanding.

there was a surprised spark in your eyes, “we do?”

steve’s brows furrowed, “yeah. i told you about the dinner date i scheduled.” now your bows scrunched, “yeah, but i thought you were going on a date.”

steve leaned towards you, “i am. with you.” punctuation on those two words, letting every letter hit you in the face.

you sat shell shocked, eyes focused over steve’s shoulder while robin and max almost jumped from their vinyl seats.

“for real?” “since when were you dating?”

at the word dating you shook away any incoming thoughts and waves away their curiosity. “we’re not dating. we’re just friends. steve’s like this with everyone.” knowing that would end any discussion.

three sets of eyes stared you down, you wanted to shrink into the ground from the attention. “what?” a squeak at their baring eyes.

“steve is only sugary sweet to you. do you not remember five minutes ago? when he bought you treats, without you asking, then told me and max to fuck off.” robin questioned.

“language-“ “i didn’t say that-“

max waved you both off, “whatever. what robin is trying to get at is, you are dating. steve openly flirty banters with you, you reciprocate in a flustered mess, and steve has hearts beaming from his corneas.” max’s palms smack onto the table.

your mouth opened, then closed. open, close, open, close. “i just,” you hands flapped about, “i- i thought he just- you know…”

“no we don’t, but please, tell us.” robin eyed you wolfishly.

anxiously you pinched the skin around your fingers, teeth biting into your bottom lip, eyes darting everywhere not knowing what your next move was.

“alright, enough teasing. let’s just get everyone home.” steve broke the silence. sliding out beside you then holding a waiting hand out, you couldn’t help but just to stare at it, like it might bite you or something.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. we’ll talk later.” soft, kind filled brown eyes watched your movements as you set your palm to his and he help you exit the booth smoothly. steve gave a squeeze before releasing his hold and your chest felt heavy again.

he called you sweetheart. he usually throws pet names about, but this one just felt… different. your brain connected to it differently.

robin and max were silent on the drive to their houses, radio at medium volume, but they kept the backseat of the bmw silent as a church mouse.

you could barely look steve’s way, barely glance at him from your peripheral. he didn’t seem tense from your words just… dejected. a gloomy cloud hanging over his head and it’s because you friend zoned him while he thought you both were together.

no chance he wants to be with you now, blew it for yourself before you even had a proper chance. you wallow in silence.

robin was the first to be dropped off. steve came to a slow stop in front of her tiny house, shifting into park so he could look back with a gentle smile, “call if you need anything. and try not to do anything clumsy.”

robin rolled her eyes in a playful manner, “i’ll try not to dad.” and she left with a comforting squeeze of your bicep.

steve waited until robin waved you off an closed her front door. “okay mayfield, home or someplace else?” he always asked when driving her.

“umm, wheeler’s. please.” yeah, she felt sorry about earlier. her please and thank you’s were a bit sparring.

again silence. you wanted to speak, but with max still in the car you held your tongue. pinching at the material of your jeans while eyeing the scenery passing by in a blur, you couldn’t help flinching at the touch of skin covering your own. you looked down cautiously to see steve’s right hand resting over your fidgeting one, stopping your mindless action.

the fifteen minute drive pasted into two minutes when you saw the big two story home come into view. you saw a couple of bikes laying in the front yard and suspected the boys also were invading the family home.

“thanks for the ride. i’ll be fine to get home later.” shuffling mixed with her words before popping the left back door open. a soft thud followed her exit then she stopped outside your window and lightly tapped.

you rolled it down with concern at her sorrow filled expression. “i’m sorry. about earlier. i wasn’t trying to-“

“max,” cutting her off, “it’s okay. i know you didn’t mean harm and plus, might’ve opened my eyes today.” playing coy with your words.

a smile flickered at her lips while her eyes looked over your shoulder. she left with a pep to her step and you were finally alone with your steve.

“so wanna-“ “did you really think we weren’t dating?”

you could help your light chuckle, “getting straight to the point i see.”

steve sputtered, “i just- it felt like we’ve been on multiple dates. and- and we’re very touchy with each other, always there for each other. i just- i just thought we were dating after the trip to chicago.”

that did turn into a pretty romantic trip now that you thought back on certain scenarios. “i think i’m just blind to romantic advances. didn’t think i was your type.” mumbling the last part.

you’ve seen the girls steve’s been with in the past. all perfect, petite, not quite hair out of place and makeup painted over delicate skin. you weren’t those things, you were messy at times, flyaways sticking up from nonexistent static, stains appearing on your clothes without knowing.

you didn’t deserve steve, he deserved someone-

“hey.” a finger crooked under your chin and moved your head from its slumped position. steve homely brown eyes darted over your face, your imperfections. you wanted to flinch away. he must’ve read your mind since her cupped your cheeks with his warm palms.

“you are none of those things i know your thinking too much about. you are completely deserving of being loved deeply and i’m happy to be that person to pour his soul into yours. if you’ll verbally say yes so we’re on the same page this time.”

your own hands wandered to hold onto steve’s wrist, “that was quite romantic of you. didn’t think of you to be a sap.” deflecting a bit from nerves.

steve smiled brightly, “for you i’ll always be a sap. practically turn into honey for you.” leaning over his console to press a kiss onto the tip of your nose. “so what do you say, wanna give us a proper go?”

you bit into your bottom lip, “i guess i could try.” smiling so wide your cheeks ached as steve dotted kisses over your face, not suppressing your giggles of glee.

[wlfchnlv3r]

DRIVE

Hyunjin x Bangchan x Fem reader

Synopsis: you are in big trouble after a night out with friends, your boyfriends are mad at you for flirting with a random guy and now you are going to confront them.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: 🔞, mdni, vaginal sex, anal sex, smut, cum eating, blowjob, handjob, masturbation, literally porn with plot so, please if you are a minor do not read this.

Note: that was pretty difficult to write, I mean- what the hell.

You go downstairs after a night with friends, where you have been drinking too much, causing you being excessively gentle with a random guy you can’t even remember the name.

You know there will be consequences for your actions and when you make your way to the living room you find your two boyfriends, Bangchan and Hyunjin typing at their computer with a somber expression on their faces.

As soon as you enter the room Bangchan looks up and sees you standing there, leaning back on the sofà.

Hyunjin glances at you and continues writing, seemingly unphased by your presence.

You stay silent for a moment before speaking in a guilty tone “are you mad at me…?”.

Chan stands up and walks towards you. He seems amused by the question "What makes you think that?".

“Ok ok you guys are mad at me…I got it” you admit.

He chuckles, grabbing your chin with his hand and lifting your face to make you look at him "You're too cute. Of course we're angry at you.".

You want to explain the situation “ I wasn’t flirting with that guy, we were just…taking, I mean it”

Bangchan narrows his eyes and Hyunjin looks up from his work and watches the scene.

"Yeah, just talking." Bangchan says, with a sarcastic tone of voice "You really think we're dumb enough to believe that?".

“I would never do that, I promise”

Bangchan let's go of your chin and shrugs.

“Hmph. Whatever. You better not be lying to us."

He steps away and goes back to sit at his desk. Hyunjin has turned his full attention to you now.

Your gaze passes from bangchan to Hyunjin, he holds your stare, his face expressionless. He seems to be watching you intensely and trying to read you.

“I’m so sorry” you apologise slowly.

Bangchan is typing away on his computer, still clearly pissed at you and Hyunjin continues staring at you, still trying to make sense of you.

"You should be sorry" Hyunjin finally speaks.

“I- please can we just forget yesterday night? It was nothing I- what can I do…to make amends?” You start to be tired of this situation and try to go upstairs in the bedroom.

Bangchan looks at you with narrowed eyes "Where do you think you're going?".

Hyunjin watches you, curious to see what you'll try to do next.

“Chan please-“

“stay there until we say so. Understand?” Hyunjin leans back on the sofà starting to lose his cool.

You stay in place for what it feels like an eternity while both of your boyfriends finish their stuff glancing at you every now and then.

“What can I do for you to forgive me…?” You finally speak.

That question draws Bangchan out of his work. He looks over at you with a smirk.

"What're you willing to do?"

“Uhm- I don’t know…please-“ you plead

Bangchan looks over at Hyunjin, who chuckles under his breath.

“So desperate to make it up, huh?" Bangchan says, amused and curious about your response.

While Hyunjin is intrigued by your answer as he listens in and watches you closely to see what you'll do.

“Yes… I’ll do what you guys want” Hyunjin can barely hide his amusement while Bangchan stands up and goes behind you, his eyes watching every little reaction you make now.

"Anything hm. So If I told you to kneel on the floor for me, you would do it, right?" Bangchan says, in a commanding tone, before speaking again “kneel for me, now”.

You watch him and then Hyunjin, but you give up, kneeling in front of Chan.

Hyunjin is now looking at you and Bangchan. There is a small smile on his face from the satisfaction of seeing you kneel for Bangchan so quickly.

Bangchan reaches for you, but doesn't touch you, his hands hovering just a few inches away. He stares deep into your eyes, analyzing your reaction "Good girl".

Chan starts to unbutton his pants lowering them with his boxer, his hard erection is a few inch near your face.

He can't help but smile. His eyes never move from yours. He takes his hand away from your chin and gestures for you to get closer.

"Go on, and suck my cock till I say so, like the obedient girl you are" Bangchan says.

You close the distance and start to lick his tip, already wet with precum.

Bangchan inhales sharply. He glances back at Hyunjin, who is looking quite satisfied now "Go on princess, you look so good with chan’s dick in your mouth” he is now smirking, his eyes glued to you.

You take chan’s dick in your mouth starting to suck on it slowly but your boyfriend tangle his finger in your hair and start to pull you closer making you shuts your eyes “you are so good for me…” he says with a smirk on his face.

Tears start to run down your cheeks as he keeps pushing your head closer and closer to him.

You let out a choke whine, hearing chan’s groans.

Meanwhile Hyunjin is enjoying the view and star to unzip his jeans freeing up his erection. He grips the base of his cock and start to move his hand giving himself some relief.

Bangchan sighs heavily, enjoying the entire experience "S-such a good girl.." Bangchan keep praising you as he finishes in your mouth and slowly steps back, pulling his pants up. His eyes find yours, a slight smirk on his face “you know how it works princess, swallow it” he commands.

You swallow his seed, and stand up looking for a few minutes at Hyunjin soft expression before he comes undone on his shirt.

He open his eyes and stares at you with a smirk.

Bangchan interrupts the moment “you know…maybe we’ve been to hard on you, what about a reward for our princess, Hyunjin?” He asks with a soft voice, the two men exchange a quickly glance.

Hyunjin approaches you and lowers your panties, before finally making you straddle on his lap “we will take good care of you princess, I promise”.

You feel the thick tip of his cock sliding into you slowly making you squirm.

Bangchan smiles before caressing your ass, and moves his middle finger in your ass gently, starting to prepare you for his dick “I know you can take it, mh? Just relax and let me stretch you a little”.

After a few long minutes he pushes his dick in your ass, fitting perfectly into you.

You are already a whiny mess, and when they both start to move in sync deep into you, your eyes shuts and you feel like crying from the pleasure.

Your hands instinctively grab hyunjin’s hair.

The air fills with the distinct sounds of wet skin on skin, panting breaths, and purring moans.

Hyunjin groans loudly, increasing his pace "God, you're so fucking tight. So warm, I don't wanna pull out of you-“ he praise you looking at your expression of ectasty.

You are so overwhelmed that you don’t even hear him. It’s chan the ones who brings you back to reality, with a slap on your ass that follow a rough squeeze of your tender flesh.

“ you are doing so good princess, tell us how much you want to be filled up… say you want it”.

You whimper a quick “please- I want it- please”.

You three are enjoying this intimate moment together so much.

You are the first to fall, your walls tighten around hyunjin’s cock, making a mess.

Hyunjin’s cums right after you, with a few deep thrust, his breath unsteady and the grip on you hips still firm.

Bangchan continues pushing in your ass for a few moments before releasing into you all his seed.

You are a mess, a complete mess but you smile after hearing Hyunjin says “you just did so good princess, now lay down on the couch and let us take care of you”.

Taglist: @felixleftchickennugget @kiwininja35 @sweetpickledjins @slmnheart @elqivxstxr @catffeinexo-xx @multistancheck @justwonder113 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @hello-stranger24 @raptorbait529 @cocofia143 @minniesverse

(comment to be added to the taglist🎐)

[svt-luna]

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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[m-jelly]

Levi loves it when it's bath time with his son. Before he became a father, bath time was a way he relaxed and spent a romantic moment with you. After his son was born, he took care of bath time so you could relax. He encouraged you to relax because you always did so much for him and your darling son.

So, tonight was bath time and he was going to share the bath with his darling son, Evan, while you were making the last snacks of the night before bed. The tub was a perfect heat with Evan's usual toys in.

Levi sat behind his son as he washed his hair and talked about the smallest things. Each chat and story was fun and made Evan giggle. Evan adored both of you so much and he was always full of happiness and joy.

Once Evan was cleaned up, Levi cleaned himself quickly. He lifted his son up and out of the bath before joining him. It was clear Evan was full of energy, so Levi needed to act fast to dry his son off and change him. He wrapped a towel around his hips first and then grabbed Evan's fun towel with little rabbits all over.

As soon as Levi turned around he saw his son's back and little butt disappear out of view. Evan raced out of the bathroom giggling away. It took Levi a few beats to register what had happened, but then he kicked into action and sprinted after his son.

You hummed a little song to yourself as you checked your freshly baked chocolate-filled croissants. You were happy they were cooled down enough for your husband and son to enjoy. A little giggling getting closer caught your attention because it was getting louder and closer.

When the giggles grew very close, you turned around to see your three-year-old son running butt naked through the living room as he laughed. You gasped when your husband soon followed with a towel wrapped around his hips, his muscles shining with the last bits of bath water on him. Every muscle was divine in your eyes and his wet hair hung in his eyes a little.

You gripped your chest as a mix of emotions filled you. You were excited at seeing your husband almost naked running around, but at the same time, it was incredibly funny and sweet that your son was making a break for it.

You started laughing at the sight. "My goodness."

Levi scooped up his son making Evan squeal with laughter. "We've got an escaped convict! A criminal known as Evan Ackerman ran away from the scene of the crime!" He held Evan upside down. "Criminal has now been apprehended!"

Evan laughed hard. "Daddyyyy"

You walked over to the pair. "What's his crime?"

Levi hugged Evan close. "Being too cute."

Evan giggled. "Hi, mama!"

You waved at him. "Hi, my little bunny. So, you're a little criminal, huh?"

"Yes!"

Levi hummed. "He learned his powerful cuteness ability from the greatest cute criminal in the world."

You smirked. "Oh yeah."

He walked up to you and kissed you. "You. I've got my eye on you, Mrs Ackerman."

Evan patted your cheek. "Pretty mama."

You kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Levi put Evan over his shoulder causing him to laugh. "I'm going to take this criminal away. If you're good, Evan, you can get a tasty reward."

You hummed a laugh. "He's right, I made chocolate croissants."

Evan cheered. "Thank you, mama!"

Levi pointed at you. "I'll give you your tasty reward later tonight when this criminal is in his cell for the night." He winked at you. "Prepare yourself."

You felt a shiver run through. "Y-Yes!"

Levi carried his son back and changed him quickly into his favourite PJs. As soon as Evan was dressed, Levi handed him his favourite cuddly bunny. Levi cleaned the bath with Evan following him around. Once everything was cleaned, Levi pulled on his PJs and carried his son back to you in the living room.

You snuggled up to your husband on the sofa and began kissing his neck. "You're such a wonderful father to him."

Levi massaged the inside of your thigh. "Thank you. I just try and have fun with him." He gazed at you. "You're an incredible mother."

You felt yourself flush. "Thank you." You kissed him and hummed. You smiled when you heard Evan giggling. "Levi, I think the criminal is watching."

Levi looked over at Evan standing there with his croissant in his little hands. "You're right. The criminal is back!"

Evan squealed with laughter and ran away. "Can't catch me!"

Levi ran after him. "I will!"

[thatonegreekgodwrites]

“ECHOES OF ELYSIUM”

Odysseus x Fem!Reader

warnings. sexual assault, slavery, a greek retelling, eventual smut, war/gore, this won’t have a happy ending

pairing. odysseus x fem! reader (inspired by epic:the musical)

in the heart of troy, amidst the towering walls and architecture, the city bustled with the vibrant energy of its people. the market squares were filled with the sounds of merchants haggling and children playing, unaware of the shadow of war creeping ever closer. within the palace, the air was different—heavier with the scent of incense and the hum of anticipation.

you, a young slave girl with kind eyes and calloused hands, moved silently through the halls. your life was one of routine and quiet obedience, your existence almost invisible among the grandeur of the palace. today, however, was a day of celebration, and even you could not escape the excitement that seemed to permeate the very stones of troy.

the reason for the festivities was the birth of the heir, the firstborn son of prince hector and his beloved wife, andromache. the birth of the child promised new hope and joy, a symbol of strength and continuity. their legacy now secured if the gods favored them so. the celebration was to be grand, with nobles and warriors alike gathering to honor the new prince and his family.

you had been tasked with pouring wine for the guests. it was a simple task, yet it required precision and grace—qualities that had been drilled into you from a young age. you carried a large jug, the cool red liquid sloshing gently inside, as you made your way to the grand hall.

as you entered the hall, you were struck by the sight before you. the room was adorned with rich tapestries and garlands of flowers. the tables were laden with food and drink, and the air was filled with the murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. at the center of it all was prince hector, his tall frame and noble bearing making him easily recognizable. beside him stood andromache, cradling their newborn son, both of them beaming with pride and joy.

you approached the head table with a steady gait, careful not to draw too much attention to yourself. you dipped your head respectfully, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, but you remained focused, constantly reminding yourself to not make a mistake in your mind as you were known to be a bit clumsy.

"wine, my lord?" you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

hector turned to you, his expression warm and kind. "yes, thank you," he said, gesturing to the goblet before him.

you carefully poured the wine, the liquid catching the light and sparkling as it filled the goblet. moving down the table, you repeated the process for andromache and the other guests. as you worked, you couldn't help but steal glances at the infant in andromache's arms. the baby boy, unaware of the significance of his birth, slept peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

the celebration continued, the sounds of music and laughter filling the hall. you retreated to the edges of the room, task completed only for the moment. you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of longing and contentment in your heart. despite your status, you found joy in the happiness of others, even if it was a distant joy.

the night wore on and you remained vigilant, ready to attend to any needs that might arise. you and everyone else were unaware of the storm brewing beyond the walls of troy, the consequences of paris' actions casting a long shadow over the kingdom that would consume them in darkness in due time. for now, in this moment of peace, the future seemed bright and full of promise.

but you knew, as did everyone in troy, that peace was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the whims of fate. and as you stood in the grand hall, the echoes of the past and the whispers of the future intertwined, creating a tapestry of uncertainty that would shape the destiny of troy and all who lived within its walls.

lingering on the edges of the grand hall, your eyes scanning the room for any sign that you might be needed. the celebration for the birth of hector's son was still going even as night fell, the hall being brought alive with music and laughter.

suddenly, the room seemed to tilt as a hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you roughly into the light.

you turned to see hector's younger brother, prince deiphobus, his face flushed with wine and his eyes glazed with a drunken haze. he was known for his roguish charm, but tonight, it was more than evident that he had indulged too much.

"well, well, what do we have here?" he slurred, his hand wandering from your shoulder down your arm, lingering in a way that made your skin crawl. "a pretty little dove in the midst of all these hawks."

you stiffened, your pulse quickening as you bit your tongue, swallowing the surge of disgust that rose within you. you were a servant—a slave, and he was a prince. to resist would mean severe punishment, which meant you had no choice but to endure.

"my lord, can i get you some water?" you offered, hoping to distract him, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

deiphobus laughed, a sound that was more menacing than mirthful. "water? no, i have something else in mind." his hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer as his breath was hot and reeking of alcohol against your ear. "tell me, does a slave like you know how to have fun?"

you forced a smile, the muscles in your face straining with the effort. "i am here to serve, my lord, in whatever way pleases you."

he grinned, his hand sliding lower. "good girl," he murmured, fingers tracing the curve of your hip. "i knew you would understand."

every fiber of your being screamed to pull away, but you remained still, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, some watching with curiosity, others with indifference—after all, your plight meant nothing to them.

"why don't we find a quieter place, hmm?" deiphobus suggested, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

"deiphobus," helenus called out from next to them, raising his goblet to his lips as he quirked a brow, voice calm but commanding. "leave her be."

deiphobus turned, a drunken sneer on his face. "ah, helenus. always the serious one. why don't you go back to your scrolls and leave the fun to me?"

helenus' eyes narrowed. "surely you can go one night without tainting another servant. find entertainment elsewhere and by the gods, remember that you're a prince, have some decorum."

deiphobus scoffed, but the firmness in helenus's voice gave him pause. he let go of you with a rough shove, making you stumble back. "fine, fine," he muttered, turning away with a dismissive wave. "always spoiling the fun."

helenus watched him go, his expression unchanging until deiphobus disappeared into the crowd. then, he turned to you, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "next time you ought to remember i won't be able to stop him, i suggest you find a way to keep your hands busy."

you nodded with a tug inside your chest. "yes, my lord, thank you."

with that, he looked away, drowning the conversation of the people around him as his own servants served him grapes. you took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you took helenus' advice, moving around the large room to keep yourself occupied and out of the sight of deiphobus.

you felt the fragility of peace hanging in the air, a feeling of knowing that the celebration of new life was shadowed by the impending storm. yet, within the confines of your role, you found a flicker of strength, a resolve to endure whatever fate the gods had in store for you.

author’s note. comment your thoughts, if this does well I’ll continue it over on here and might put more effort into the account. you can find this story also on my wattpad account. thanks for reading!

[targaryenimagines]

Shattered Wings

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 21,652

Summary: You had known, from the moment you stepped foot onto Westeros, that this cursed land would take from you more than you were willing to give; rip you apart, only to put you back together slightly off so you were never truly whole again. You just never expected, never even believed, that it’d be your darling son, your precious Prūmia, your Viserion, that would have to pay the price; and that it would be all due to the actions of your Khaleesi.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, angst with a happy ending, angry/grieving sex (trying to numb the pain), dark thoughts, grief, self-worth issues, and slight self-harm (R digs her nails into her arms). Reader is not in a good place. (This is just very angsty.)

Notes: Still not over how the sweetest baby Viserion got treated by D&D (nor how we barely got any scenes of Daenerys dealing with said event — both in Season 7 and in Season 8 when she found out he was enslaved by the Night King; even a scene with her and his shattered body would have been something). Hopefully, in this story, I can do their bond justice (along with the reader's bond with him, of course). Forewarning as well that the Reader puts Dany through the wringer; anger and grief can change someone in ways that you’d never imagine… Is it wholly fair to Dany? Absolutely not. Just wanted to let you all know that beforehand as it’s not pretty for a bit… Also is this the source of Daenerys not being able to sleep without the Reader next to her? Yes… Yes, it is.

Series Masterlist

The salty breeze of Dragonstone carries with it the scent of the sea, mingling with the distant cry of seabirds that circle the rocky cliffs, brushing across your cheeks in a phantom caress; its presence cool, but not cold, against your skin — a gentle reminder that summer was still hanging on even though its grip was beginning to weaken.

You had known it’d be a beautiful day from the moment you had awakened. A feeling that had only grown as the sun began to rise high into the sky and the world seemed to come alive underneath the splendor of its golden presence.

Even now, the sky was a deep blue, unmarred despite the growing bank of clouds on the horizon — holding an ominous presence as if the storm they promised would happen in only a matter of time, but, for the moment, they were fine with holding back, waiting until it was the perfect time to roll in. You had always known the weather within Westeros wouldn’t be like Essos. With the shimmering rays of gold and the endless crystalline expanse of the sky, but you hadn’t expected it to be quite so fickle.

Or perhaps, you muse, this rocky isle, not unlike the ones who had claimed it, had a temperament that was ever changing. Always one step away from a roaring storm or a clear sky.

Despite the overarching beauty of the day, and the initial lightness it brought to your chest, you couldn’t help the heaviness that was beginning to weigh you down as it continued to progress. Something that you could normally attribute to the simple knowledge of the shifting weather, but the tension coiling within you didn’t feel like the apprehension one would face in concern of a coming storm.

Its source, in fact, wasn’t one you could truly place — only heightening the tension further.

You’re currently seated on the edge of a cliff, a familiar perch where you often found peace, the waters of the bay below sparkling under the sun, a stark contrast to the gathering gloom ahead; one that soothes your wayward thoughts for the moment. Drogon soars above, his massive form casting a shadow that briefly blots out the light as he passes above you, continuing to dip and dive; his playful movements a reminder that despite his appearance, he was still young. His roars of joy, carrying easily upon the ocean wind, echoes across the bay, the familiar sound pulling your lips into a smile.

Rhaegal lay beside you, his large head near your lap, bronze eyes half-lidded in contentment. His breaths slow and rhythmic, the warmth of his body radiating through the cold stone beneath you, as your fingers absentmindedly trace the ridged scales of his brow; an action that causes Rhaegal to hum softly in response, a deeply resonate sound.

While Viserion, your golden boy, is curled up on the opposite side; large body coiled around you. An aureate gaze closed, but far from asleep — his breathing too measured, too conscious of your every move — and his attentiveness, even as he basked underneath the sun, soothed you. Leaning against his side, being lulled by the rise and fall of his chest against your back, you go back to watching Drogon dance upon the wind. Every now and then, you notice, out of your periphery, that Viserion’s tail flicked lazily, a sign of his growing restlessness; an emotion that was stemming from your own — even as you try to distract yourself with the world around you to halt it — due to the bond that you share. While you’re bonded to all of your sons, and love them as any mother would her children, the connection you have with Viserion goes a bit deeper; there’s an intrinsic understanding, one that goes beyond mere words. He knows that you’re troubled, even if he doesn’t know the cause, his continued presence is meant to soothe, to shield you from whatever is brewing within your heart, and you couldn’t be more grateful for him. For the love that he has for you.

The wind picks up slightly — a howl beginning to intertwine within it — bringing with it a chill that has nothing to do with the weather. Your eyes, as if pulled by some greater power, shift back to the horizon; to the dark clouds that continue to gather, seemingly growing thicker and thicker with each passing moment. It’s a sight that causes your previous sense of foreboding to make an instant reappearance, curling tightly within your stomach, and, in response, you press back into Viserion; seeking the warmth and reassurance only he could provide. The unease doesn’t subside, not in a manner you wish it would, as it decides to gnaw at the back of your mind instead; reminiscent of a splinter you couldn’t remove. An unsettling entity but one that you’d be able to handle given enough time and care; that’s what you hope, at least.

Looking down at the beach below, where a mixture of Dothraki and Unsullied work hauling Dragonglass and other needed supplies, the smallest of frowns furrow your brow. From this vantage point, and due to the simple fact that few were idiotic, and even fewer brave, enough to approach slumbering dragons — especially dragons that had one of their mothers nearby — left the area upon the cliff free of anyone else, you’re able to see how the few Northerners that had made the journey to Dragonstone were treating them; bodies tense, eyes narrowed in barely concealed agitation, whispered conversations taking place the moment they’re left to congregate amongst themselves, hands constantly reaching towards their hips for swords that aren’t present. It’s a sight that leaves a sour taste in your mouth and a protective outrage roaring within your chest.

The Dothraki and Unsullied did not ask for this war; did not ask to be treated with such obvious disdain from the people that supposedly needed their help. They had agreed to come to Westeros, to fight underneath the banner of House Targaryen, of Daenerys Stormborn, to reclaim the Iron Throne from Cersei Lannister, but their loyalty, their faith, in their Khaleesi led them to where they are now. If the North is in such dire need of help why are they biting at the hand that’s offering it to them? 

Your brow furrows into an even more pronounced frown, but, before you’re able to delve even deeper into the thoughts that would, no doubt, dampen your already darkening mood, the sound of raised voices coming from behind you causes your attention to snap back to the world at large. Twisting, and leaning slightly to peer around Viserion’s head, you see Daenerys storming across the rolling grass with Tyrion following behind; even from a distance you can tell it’s a heated discussion. Tyrion is speaking once more, words likely chosen carefully, but whatever it is he’s saying it isn’t easing her agitation. You’re not able to see your dragon’s face, but you’re able to surmise what must be etched across it from memory, and Tyrion’s own expression, alone — eyes narrowed in determination, nostrils slightly flared, some amount of frustration evident, focused solely on her Hand.

As if she’s trying to bend him to her will through sheer force alone.

Not being able to hear their words doesn’t inhibit you from understanding what they’re discussing, your heart turning heavy at the realization. The plan to capture a White Walker had been a thorn in your side since it had been constructed — believing heavily that it was a gamble that relied on too many unknowns. That night, in your shared chambers, you had argued, even falling to the point of pleading, for Daenerys to take King’s Landing first; to solidify her claim and then use the might of the Seven Kingdoms to march North, but your words had fallen on deaf ears. Jon Snow, with his depictions of the Night King and the Army of the Dead, had shifted her focus entirely, convincing her that the real war lay beyond the Wall; not in the South.

At what cost? You remember asking her, in the quiet that had followed your discussion, after all the plans had been laid out. What would happen if our children got hurt? Or worse, killed? For a plan that rests on the hope that they might bring back a creature of myth?

Daenerys had tried to reassure you, warm hands cupping your face, lips gentle against your own before peppering lingering touches across your forehead, but the fear, like the multiple kisses that had been laid upon your skin, had lingered; a cold knot in your gut that refused to loosen.

Now, watching her argue with Tyrion, you can’t help but feel the fear twist into something sharper; something that bordered on anger. How could she risk so much for so little? How could she gamble the lives of your children — as you had heard the varying conversations about potential rescue missions — who had been with you both since the beginning, who had saved you more times than you could count, with such a plan?

Letting your eyes slip shut, trying to center yourself once more, you press a kiss to Viserion’s snout, a gentle rumble sounding softly in response. The clouds continue to gather, something you’re certain of despite your current blindness to them, but you force yourself to focus on the warmth of your sons; the steady breaths of Rhaegal and the comforting presence of Viserion.

Footsteps growing closer cause you to innately turn towards the sound — already knowing, by the lack of reaction from your sons, who it would be — and watch as Daenerys heads towards you; Tyrion still behind her with concern written across his face while Daenerys’ own was unreadable. Her approach causes the knot within your chest to loosen somewhat, as her presence has always wielded a calming influence unto you, but the tension within your shoulders grows just a bit more. You know that the coming conversation will not be an easy one, but it’s one that neither you, nor Daenerys, could avoid any longer.

She halts a few paces away, gaze softening when it lands on you. “There you are,” she greets, a note of warmth suffused within her tone; something that eases the tightness in your chest momentarily. It’s a fleeting entity, quickly remembering the subject matter behind the impending conversation, and taking notice of the determination within her violet depths. A sight that you’re all too familiar with, the burning resolve that has taken her through countless trials, the appearance of it being one that typically soothed you, but, with everything happening, it only deepens your concern.

“You’ve been arguing with Tyrion again,” you comment, trying to maintain a level of calmness that the roiling storm of emotions beneath the surface wished to disrupt.

The observation causes a soft sigh to fall from Daenerys’ lips, a delicate hand quickly rising to brush silver-gold strands behind her ear, while she moves to sit beside you; pausing only briefly for her gaze to linger on the forms of your shared children, before gentle violet finally settles back to you. “Tyrion thinks I’m being reckless,” she admits, the faintest creasing of her brow giving away the frustration she feels. “He just doesn’t understand the urgency of the situation.”

“Do you, Daenerys?” You rebuke, unable to keep the edge from your tone. “Do you understand what you’re asking them to do? What you’re risking?”

A spark of defiance roars into life within her gaze. “I’m not asking them to do anything I wouldn’t do myself.”

“That’s not the point.” Taking a breath through your nose, trying to maintain a level head, you continue. “The point is that this plan, this rescue mission you and your council have concocted, is too dangerous. What if something goes wrong? What if one of our children gets hurt? Or worse?”

They’re questions you’ve asked before — countless times since hearing about the possibility of your Khaleesi heading North — and you’re certain they’ll be met by the same response.

Daenerys looks away, jaw clenched. “I can’t let them die.”

“You don’t even know if this will work,” you argue. “We didn’t know enough about the White Walkers, about their strengths or weaknesses, and those men left with that knowledge, understanding what they were getting into, because apparently one of those creatures may convince Cersei Lannister to help us.” Irritation lances through your heart. “Now, after all of that, you wish to head North, with our sons, to potentially rescue men that understood they may not come back once going beyond the Wall.”

“I have to try,” she replies firmly, eyes blazing within renewed determination. “If we do nothing, we’ll end up risking everything. The North, the South, everything we have ever fought for would be for nothing. If there’s even a chance that Cersei might listen, and that Jon Snow is still alive, and, with him, our only ties to the North, then I have to take it.”

You shake your head. “At what cost?” The old question, once again, falls from your lips, imploring Daenerys to actually hear it. “What will you do if they truly are gone? If, by doing this, our children are hurt?”

For a moment, the briefest crack appears in dragon-scaled armor, Daenerys hesitating, expression faltering as her vulnerability makes an appearance, but, before you can blink, it quickly buried beneath a resolved demeanor; one that has defined her since you’ve known her. “Every day I make choices that could mean the difference between life and death for thousands. I carry the weight of every decision, every sacrifice, but I cannot, will not, be paralyzed by fear,” she intones, even as her voice cracks ever-so-slightly, betraying the sense of fear she’s trying so hard to conceal. “I’ll do what I must. Like I have always done.”

Your heart clenches at the words; the anger you had been trying so hard to suppress flaring into something more intense, but, only by a small margin, you’re able to stay calm. “I’m not asking you to be paralyzed by fear, Dany. I’m asking you to consider what you’re risking. I’m asking you to think about what you’ll lose if this goes wrong,” you reiterate, reaching out for her, knowing how much physical touch means to her. “We can find another way. A way that doesn’t risk more lives.”

Daenerys only looks down at the proffered appendage for a moment before taking it in hers. “That’s something I never stop doing, ñuha perzys. I have considered every option, and I wish it were that simple,” she murmurs sorrowfully. “But the time for simple solutions is over. This is the only way.”

You pull your hand back, the warmth of her touch only deepening the growing ache in your chest, tension coiling in your shoulders. “And if it fails? If they’re already dead? What will you do then? If our children die in the pursuit of this mission? Will it be worth it? Will you be able to live with yourself?”

“I have to believe it will work. I have to believe that this is the way to save them. To save us all.”

Lips thinning into a line, her response pressing down onto you like a physical burden, you can’t help the strained quality within your voice. “I can’t do this.” The wind ghosts across your face, offering its own form of support for you to continue. “I can’t watch you risk everything, risk our sons, for something so uncertain.”

“I don’t want to lose them either. Of course, I’d never wish to lose our children.” Her voice cracks slightly at the thought of it. “But, I can’t stand by and do nothing, I can’t let those men die without trying to stop it.”

A long silence settles between you then, only the distant roar of the ocean against the surf, along with the occasional huff from either Rhaegal or Viserion, intercepting it, the tension palpable, its presence a heavy weight that neither of you can shake.

Finally, after another beat of silence, you let out a shaky breath, hands digging into the exposed skin of your forearm slightly, as you gather the strength needed to say what’s on your mind. “If you do this,” you begin, the words sour on your tongue, stomach twisting. “Promise me that you’ll come back. Promise me that you’ll bring them back.”

Daenerys looks at you then, the emotion within her eyes telling you she understood who you were referring to. That you weren’t asking for a promise to bring the men back — your words weren’t a plea for the plan to work; they were a mothers desperate attempt to ensure the safety of her children — and your Khaleesi doesn’t hesitate. “I promise,” she affirms. Even still, a weight has settled within you that wouldn’t become easier to lift until she returned back from the desperate attempt to right a wrong that wasn’t her fault. There wasn’t more to truly say after that, no argument that you could come up with that’d make her change her mind, so you settle, once more, into the silence that descends.

The storm on the horizon draws ever closer, dark clouds beginning to loom over the bay, while the wind picks up speed; whipping through your hair and clothes as if trying to pull you away. You’re aware of what she’s about to do, even if she hasn’t outright said she’d be departing now, and it absolutely terrifies you.

Daenerys stands, gaze lingering on you for a moment longer, before it shifts to the dragons. Knowing what is to occur, even if that doesn’t make it any easier to digest, you follow her lead, rising to your feet and move over to Viserion. Your precious boy lifts his head in response, bright eyes locking with yours, not unlike his other mother had done a moment prior, and you feel a pang of sadness deep within your chest. You reach out, hand resting against his cheek, the warmth of his pebbled scales seeping into your chilled skin. 

“Be safe, Prūmia,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek; Viserion nuzzling against you in response, a low rumble vibrating through his body. The sound being one of comfort, of reassurance, but it does little to ease the fear beginning to gnaw at your heart.

You move over to Rhaegal next, placing a gentle kiss to his nose. The soft huff, a warm gust of air that seems to sink deep into your soul, brings a small smile to life; despite the tears that were welling within your eyes. “Don’t do anything rash, Bāne.”

Finally, you approach Drogon, who had landed nearby, watching you with his crimson gaze. Once you’re near, he lowers his massive head, allowing for you to scratch the underside of his chin, a spot that has been his weakness since he was a hatchling, and you respond with a light chuckle of your own when he admits a huff of amusement — the closest thing, you’ve found, to laughter that a dragon can emit — the corners of his mouth seemingly lifting into a smile of his own. “Protect her, Mīsio.”

It’s a rare moment — even with your warring emotions — of levity in a time that feels anything but light.

Daenerys, simply watching as you say your farewells, meets your gaze steadily once you finally turn back to her, greeting you with a soft expression; the love she feels for you evident within pools of violet, but, underneath it all, hidden away in a place only you could find, there was sadness, genuine regret that she was parting with you mixing within it. It’s only when she steps closer, wrapping her arms around you in a much needed embrace, that the tension, you hadn’t even realized had been there, slackens. Her hold on you was tight, as if she was trying to anchor herself to you one last time before the storm took her away. Daenerys had always likened you to home; the one safe harbor she felt she had within this world. Where she could lay down her titles, her shield, and her worries, to truly be herself once more — simply Dany.

“I love you,” she whispers into your ear, voice trembling. “More than anything. Please know that.”

You press your cheek against hers, inhaling the familiar scent of the love of your life; a gentle fragrance of something sweet mixed with lavender, underscored by smoke and dragon fire. The duality of Daenerys Targaryen showcasing itself even within something so mundane. “I love you too,” you reply. “Always.”

Not wishing to let go, you cling to each other a moment longer, the world fading, as it always does, as you focus on the warmth of her body, the steady beat of her heart, but, all too soon, she pulls back, violet eyes glistening with unshed tears as she reluctantly steps away. Only to return, seemingly unable to stay away, to place a gentle kiss upon your lips, her words ghosting across them. "I will be back soon,” she vows. “You'll be cuddled up with our children and me before you know it."

With one final embrace, and another brief kiss, Daenerys approaches Drogon, who had been waiting patiently, and climbs onto his back, the great dragon unfurling his wings with a powerful gust of wind; Rhaegal and Viserion following suit, their massive wings beating in unison as they rise into the sky.

You watch them, heart aching as they disappear into the horizon, get swallowed by the gathering storm, the weight in your chest nearly unbearable; a mixture of fear, sorrow, and an overwhelming sense of loss that you couldn’t comprehend. The smart thing to do would be to head inside, to find shelter from the oncoming storm, but you can’t bring yourself to move. Instead, you stand on the cliff's edge, the wind whipping through your hair, as you look in the direction of where the woman you love and your children vanished into the darkening sky.

A tear slips unbidden down your cheek and you don’t bother to wipe it away. The void within your chest, that had been created by the unceasing weight pressing upon it, threatened to consume you once you realized just how along you truly are now. Your children, alongside the love of your life, were heading into the unknown, and all you could do was stand, waiting within Dragonstone, and hope that they would return.

But, deep down, the sense of unease, the tension that had been coiling tighter and tighter, that continued to gnaw at you, was now settled like a stone in your gut; an unshakeable feeling that something terrible was about to happen settling over you.

For now, until your family returned to you, persevering was the only option — even if it meant burying the dark emotions welling up — and hope that Daenerys would keep her promise, that she would bring them back to you. That she would come back to you.

And, as the first rumble of thunder echoed over the bay, you closed your eyes, silently praying for the strength to face whatever was to come.

When the storm had rolled in, many within Dragonstone believed it would abate quickly, but it had only seemed to worsen as time wore on — as hours turned to days and those days turned to weeks — and, within that period there hadn’t been any news from the North.

It’s late. The kind of late that bleeds into the early hours of the morning, when even the wind is quiet, too tried to howl against the ancient castle; despite the storm still being an ever-present entity. Typically, it’s considered to be a tranquil hour to be awake, despite the earliness of it, and that the sky was still dark, but the silence of it was suffocating — pressing down on you with a weight that makes it hard to breathe. You had become too accustomed to silence, to the sound of your heartbeat and thoughts uninterrupted by anything else, and you absolutely detest it. When Dragonstone awakens — when servants, guards, and dignitaries alike travel through its halls — do you feel more at ease, because, at least when you hear them, you know you’re not truly alone.

The chambers you share with Daenerys, so shockingly cold without the presence of your dragon, to warm it, were dark, save for the faint embers that still valiantly clung to life within the hearth, and the stone walls seemed to close in around you. Ever since Daenerys had left this room had felt like a prison; each hour within it that passed stretching into eternity as you waited for word — any word — of Daenerys and your children. You had barely been able to sleep, being unable to banish the terrible images that haunted your dreams when you tried. Your dreams become consumed by what-if scenarios, each one darker than the last. You see them, your children, in your mind’s eye, falling from the sky, their magnificent wings torn and battered, fire extinguished as they plummet to the unforgiving earth below. You see Daenerys, silver-gold hair matted red with blood, the bright fierceness of her eyes dulled by the hand of death. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you prayed to the Gods to grant you mercy, even if it was only for a short while, those images wouldn’t stray far from your mind; they were relentless, merciless, in their endeavor to tear you apart from the inside out.

Still, even when you were awake, you found no solace, not a sense of peace. The idea of your family, all that you truly had within this world, flying into that forsaken land, facing dangers beyond comprehension, you couldn’t properly stomach it; couldn’t discern the varying emotions that had constantly been battling within you. Anger and fear had been your constant companion — Tyrion, Grey Worm, and Missandei tried to help but there wasn’t much they could do; not when you shut yourself off from the world — and, within that time you’ve spent with them, you understand that the majority of it, while directed towards the events as a whole, centered around Daenerys and her unwillingness to bend. Her fervent need to prove herself, to be the hero.

You know that Daenerys, for all of her pride in being a Targaryen, was weighed down by the actions of her father and brother, know that she desperately didn’t wish to become something that many had already foretold her being, that she was so afraid of becoming Queen of the Ashes. It’s something you detest — the fear that had been instilled into your ferocious dragon; clipping her wings the moment she had stepped ashore Dragonstone— and something you’ve been trying to dispel; never truly understanding why Daenerys would wish to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms if the common folk detested her so based simply off the actions of her forefathers.

Understanding all of that, knowing the insecurities that plagued her, you could see why Daenerys had made the decisions that she has, but you couldn’t understand why she was willing to risk the people that had already proved their loyalty, their unwavering devotion, to serve people that’d sooner call her the Mad Queen, the next coming of Maegor, then see her for what she truly was, to see beyond the fact that she shared blood with Aerys Targaryen.

Even still, knowing this, no matter how much it may squeeze your heart, you couldn’t help the growing chasm of anger that has settled within your gut at her actions. Wishing that, for once, she’d just let sleeping dragons lie, but, on the other hand, if she did, she wouldn’t be the woman you had fallen in love with, which is why a gnawing sense of fear had decided to accompany the anger in a sickening duo.

Daenerys had promised she would come back, that they would all return, but promises are fragile things, easily shattered by the brutality of war, by the merciless cold of the North, and the seemingly unending nightmare of the Night King’s army. Even still, her promise, her commitment to you, was the only thing you could truly still hold onto without falling apart, because, despite everything, you had faith in your Khaleesi, believing in her gave you the hope to believe that everything would turn out okay in the end.

Now, even in the dead of night, when the world is still, and the air is thick with the scent of salt and sea, as you lie awake staring at the ceiling, you hold onto that hope, to the one source of light that would guide you from the darkness. You’re not sure how long you lie there, caught between sleep and waking, your one shred of hope battling against the dark twisted dreams that wish to prey upon you, when you hear a disturbance: the creaking of the door, a faint rustling of fabric, as someone enters the room. And, without having to even look at, you know it is, you would always know. You could feel her presence like a healing salve to your soul, the warmth that radiates from her, the smell of smoke and ash with something sweeter, something distinctly Daenerys, that fills the air — replacing the scent of the sea.

You turn to look at her slowly, heart pounding, a strange mixture of relief and dread coursing through your veins. She’s back. She kept her promise. But, as you make out her form, standing there in the dim light, you know something is wrong.

Daenerys — the unstoppable force that brought many to heel, your dragon that burned with the fires of Old Valyria through her veins, who loves you with an ardency that rivaled the sun itself — looked broken.

There’s no other word for it: shoulders slumped, usually bright eyes dull and haunted, face drawn and pale. She looks like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders — more so than usual — and, for a moment, you can’t breathe.

She doesn’t say anything as she walks towards you, her movements slow, each step measured in a way you’ve never seen before, as if each one took an enormous amount of effort. The bed dips slightly as she sits on the edge of it, and you can see the way her hands were trembling, imperceptible if you had been anyone else, when she reached out for you. “I’m back,” she whispers, her voice so soft that it’s almost lost in the quiet of the room, but there’s something in her tone that makes your blood run cold.

You sit up, eyes searching hers for answers, for some kind of reassurance, but all you see is pain.

“Where are they?” The question slips out before you can stop it, fear clogging your throat making it even harder to breathe. “Where are the boys?”

Daenerys flinches at the words, at such a seemingly innocuous question, that you know within an instant. You know before she even says anything — understanding intrinsically where the aching hollowness had appeared from; a gaping void where your golden boy had once been — in response, but you can’t accept it. You won’t.

Violet eyes fill with tears, and she looks down at her hands, the one that had been abandoned by your own twisting in the fabric of the bedspread, as the other rests uselessly in her lap. “I’m sorry,” she breathes. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your heart stops, the world stops, everything just stops as her apology hits you with the force of an arrow; the meaning behind it crippling in its intensity. The room, that had become your prison since she left, seems to close in on you: the walls pressing in, the air growing thin. You can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stare at her, waiting for her to take it back, to tell you it’s not true.

She doesn’t.

Daenerys just sits there, tears valiantly remaining in place, whole body trembling as if she’s going to shatter into a million pieces.

You shake your head. “No,” you whisper, refusing to believe that it could be true; willing it to not be true. “No, no, no, no…” The words spill out in a desperate wave, pleading as if you can somehow make reality change by denying it.

“I’m sorry,” Daenerys repeats, voice thick with held back tears, and she reaches out for you once more, but you jerk away; the movement is violent, instinctive.

“Don’t touch me!” You snap, sharp and harsh, tone filled with a venom you hadn’t known you were capable of. The grief, the anger, the pain, all crashing down on you at once; a tidal wave that threatens to drown you. “Say it. I want you to say the words”

Daenerys flinches at your ire, just barely, but enough for you to notice; to feel the faint sting of seeing her so shaken. Her lips part, as though she’s about to speak, but the words catch in her throat, and she finally looks away, unable to meet your gaze.

“Say it,” you repeat. A part of you needed to hear her say the words, because, you know, a small part of you would cling onto the shred of hope that it wasn’t true, that Daenerys must be mistaken, if she didn’t. “Say it, Daenerys!”

She still doesn’t turn to look at you, but her shoulders slump even more. “He’s gone. Viserion is gone.”

Why does expecting a blow not make it hurt any less? Why does knowing the pain is coming fail to lessen its sting? Your mind cries out as your heart begins to break. Is it because the expectation of the hit, of knowing what’s coming, evolves into its own kind of torture? Amplifying the pain as it echoes through your mind long before the blow ever truly lands.

You’re the one that flinches this time, the words piercing through you as easily as Valyrian Steel would flesh, and can’t keep the pained noise lodged within your throat trapped any longer; a noise that instantly has Daenerys reaching out for you, trying to comfort you as she has always done. Only this time you couldn’t stand to be near her, didn’t think you’d be able to handle her touch, not when your entire world had been thrown on its axis. Jerking away from her touch, as if it burned, you scramble off the bed, needing to put distance between you, needing a moment to breathe.

Daenerys stands in response, movements slow, hesitant, as if she was afraid that one wrong move will shatter whatever fragile thread that’s holding you together. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t move closer even though you can tell she’s fighting her natural urge to do so, allowing you a moment, giving you an opportunity to sort through your thoughts. It’s something she had done since your friendship began — back when she hadn’t been the Khaleesi, hadn’t been what she is now, when she was a lost girl with a vindictive brother — when things got overly heated, overly emotional, and it never failed.

Until now.

Until you realized that the thoughts spiraling through your mind weren’t your own — not truly — as they were all poisoned by the darkness of your grief, of your anger, of your pain and bitterness. The longer you were left to listen to them now gave you more and more time to get lost under the sea of anguish that’s refusing to let you come back to the surface.

“How?” You don’t know why you’re asking, it’s not something you truly wish to know, but you just wanted the thoughts to stop, to let you breathe without reminding you that Viserion would never do so again. “How did it happen?”

Daenerys hesitates. “The Night King.” That you had surmised as there would be nothing in this world that would have saved Jon Snow if he had been the one to physically kill your son; him being a short-sighted imbecile notwithstanding. “H-He had a sp-spear—”

You don’t let her finish, you can’t let her finish, not when the imagery of those simple words alone was enough; the haunting dreams coming to fruition. The bubbling anger, that you had been trying to stave off since she had arrived, finally erupting. “I told you not to go!” You shake your head, turning away from her with your hands clenched. “I told you that this would happen!”

When Daenerys doesn’t respond, you turn back to look at her, seeing the tears that were now steadily making trails across fair skin, clearly having lost the battle that she had fought earlier by not letting too many tears escape. It’s a sight that should soften your heart — the woman you love more than anything in this world in clear anguish — and make you want to comfort her, because, it’s obvious, she’s lost too, but all it does is fuel the fire of your anger; something that causes another piece of yourself to wither away.

“How could you do this?” You demand, wanting to know, aching to know: your Dany wouldn’t have done this, your Dany would have tried everything before risking the lives of your sons for a fool's errand. “How could you risk them like that? How could you risk him?”

“I had to,” Daenerys replies. “I had to save them.”

Despite yourself you take a small step closer. “At what cost?” A wave of emotions rushes through you, burning your throat with grief. “At what cost, Daenerys? You’ve lost him! We’ve lost him!”

“I know,” she cries out, anguish palpable. “I know and I’m sorry, but I had to do it. I had to try.”

“But you didn’t have to risk him!” You scream, the dam within you finally bursting as tears stream down your face, your grief and anger consuming you whole. “You didn’t have to risk Viserion! He’s dead, Daenerys! He’s dead because of you!”

The words are out before you can stop them, before you can think about the impact they’ll have, and you watch as Daenerys recoils as though struck, eyes wide with hurt and shock. For a moment, the anger drains from you, replaced by a sickening sense of guilt, but it is too late to take it back; the damage has been dealt.

Daenerys takes a step back, the first time she had put distance between you instead of trying to close it, arms dropping back to her sides, an expression of heartbreak, with the barest hints of disbelief, directed at you. “Do you truly believe that this is what I wanted? That I wanted this?” She questions, voice quivering. “You think I wanted to lose him.”

‘No.’ You want to will the word through your lips, to make any sort of noise that’d indicate that you didn’t believe that — not truly — but, even if you had said it, you’re not certain if she would have heard.

“I did what I had to do,” she continues. “I did what I thought was right. We lost Viserion because of it, which will be something that I’ll live with for the rest of my life, but I had to make that choice. I had to do what I thought was best for all of us. For you, for them, for the world.”

“For the world?” You repeat, not even trying to dampen the bitter sarcasm laced within the words. “What about our world, Daenerys? What about our family?”

Her gaze softens, even though the tears remain ever present, and she takes a tentative step forward, reaching out for you again; bridging the gap that she has made earlier. “We’re still a family,” she insists, unwavering. “We still have Drogon and Rhaegal. We still have each other.”

You shake your head. “It’s not the same,” you whisper. The truth in those four words sends another lance of pain straight through your heart. “It will never be the same.”

“Please,” Daenerys begs, realizing that she was losing you, setting in; a desperate panic begins to take form across her beautiful face. “Please don’t push me away.”

How can you not? When her mere presence is a living reflection of the conflict warring inside of you; part of you, buried deep, wanting to reach out, to be held, while the other part wanted to make her hurt like she has hurt you, to get some form of justice for Viserion. So, you do, you push her away with a force that has her stumbling back, tears blurring your vision as you turn and flee from the room.

Your feet carry you down the cold, winding corridors of Dragonstone; shadows looming around you like specters. You don’t have a destination in mind, just the overwhelming need to get away, to be alone with your grief.

It isn’t until you reach a familiar door that you realize where you’ve been heading all along — a room deep within the heart of Dragonstone; where the remnants of the egg shells, the very shells from which your sons had hatched, are kept in separate, ornate cases. The sight of them is enough to send you fully over the edge, your knees buckling as you collapse onto the stone floor, sobs wracking your body as the full weight of your loss crashes down upon you.

Viserion.

Your sweet, gentle Viserion. You’ll never feel his warm breath against your skin again, never hear his soft purrs as he nuzzled into you, seeking comfort and affection. The bond you had shared, that indescribable connection, is gone, severed by the cruel hand of fate, by the cold touch of the Night King.

You reach out, fingers trembling, and brush against the case that holds the remnants of Viserion’s egg; the smooth, hardened shell that once contained the precious life that was now lost to you forever. The tears flow freely down your cheeks, dampening the stone beneath you, as you weep for your son, for the life that was so violently taken, for the gentle flame that had been put out too soon.

Tugging the box closer, your breath catches at the familiar sight of the cracked shell that Viserion had emerged from so long ago.

The shell was pale, a shimmering blend of cream and gold, almost ethereal in its beauty. It sits nestled in the box, as if cradled by the very Gods themselves, the cracks across its surface, that once promised the appearance of new life, are now jagged reminders of all you’ve lost. You reach out once more, fingers trembling even more as they brush against the surface, the coolness of the shell seeping into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you carefully lift the shell, memories flood your mind, each one yet another blow to your already broken heart. You remember the day Viserion had hatched, the first time you had seen him when Daenerys had emerged from the pyre, a miracle of life amidst the barrenness of the Red Waste. He had been so small, his scales soft and glistening, his eyes wide with wonder as he observed the world from near Daenerys’ feet, until his aureate gaze locked onto you. It was in that moment, you knew he was yours, your Prūmia, your beloved son.

You had watched him grow, from a curious hatchling to a majestic dragon, his pale scales shimmering like molten gold beneath the sunlight. He had always been the gentlest of the three, his temper calm, his touch tender. Where Dragon was fierce, and Rhaegal wild, Viserion was your peace, your warmth on the coldest nights, the soft presence that guided you when all seemed lost.

The shell feels heavier now — as if the weight of your grief had embedded itself into it — making it impossible to hold. A sob escapes your lips, raw and broken, the sound filling the room, echoing off the stone walls until it is all you can hear.

You close your eyes, cradling the shell to your chest, the way you once cradled Viserion when he was small enough to fit in your arms. Your mind is a storm, torn between the memories of his soft purrs, the way he could never get enough gentle scratches underneath his chin, and the knowledge that his lifeless body was now lost within the frozen landscape beyond the Wall.

“Prūmia,” you murmur. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

The words feel hollow, wholly inadequate in the face of the overwhelming loss that has consumed you. They’re empty, meaningless, a feeble attempt to make sense of the senseless, to find solace in a world ripped apart. You press your forehead against the shell as if, by some miracle, you could draw him to you; as if your love could bridge the gap between life and death and bring him back.

But there is no answer, no soft purr, no warmth to chase away the cold that has settled into your bones. There is only the silence, the crushing weight of the reality that he’s gone, and you are alone within the room that used to represent life and love, but now could only ever be likened to one thing in your eyes.

A tomb.

In the darkness of your grief, you can almost convince yourself that you feel his presence, the ghost of his touch against your skin, the whisper of his breath as he used to curl around you in sleep, but when you open your eyes, there is nothing, only the shell in your hands, a reminder of what once was, and what will never be again.

Viserion was gone and, with him, a part of you died too.

The world is a blur of icy winds and burning cold, a barren wasteland where the air itself is laden with dread; a storm rages, tearing through the desolate landscape, howling its fury as it sweeps across ice and snow. Your heart pounds in your chest, a drumbeat of fear and despair, as you search the endless white horizon for a glimpse of gold — his gold.

“Prūmia.” It’s a whisper on your lips, the name that had never been uttered without fondness was now intertwined with a darkness you couldn’t escape from; it’s a plea, a prayer, but the storm swallows your voice leaving you with nothing except the howling wind and biting cold.

Viserion was out there, somewhere within this forsaken land, a simple fact that you knew as surely as your heart felt the panic clawing at your insides. He’s out there, battling the storm, the ice, the cold — battling death itself.

And you are helpless to reach him.

You run, as you always do, feet pounding against the ice — slipping, sliding — as you race against the storm. Maybe this time will be different? Maybe you’ll be faster? Maybe you’ll be better? Each step feels like a lifetime, each heartbeat a desperate cry for time, for fate, for anything to have mercy on you. Your hands reach out, fingers trembling, aching to touch him, to feel his warmth once more; as if the very act would make him appear, would bring him back.

The world shifts around you, the ice cracks, and you’re falling — falling into the abyss of nothingness, into the frozen depths where hope dies.

You see him then, above you, flying through the storm, searching for you too. His wings beat with desperate strength, pale scales shimmering through the haze of snow and darkness. For a moment, just a fleeting blip of time, you feel relief washing over you like a balm. He’s there. He’s alive. He’ll catch you. He’ll—

Everything around you shifts once more, ripping you away from your one semblance of peace, tilting everything into chaos. Your body slams into solid ground once more, but you barely notice it, not being able to tear your eyes from the sky above you.

Darkness swarms around him, creeping up his massive form like tendrils of death, and you can only watch in horror, suspended in time while everything beyond seems to move too quickly, as the night closes in on him. His roar shatters the air, a sound of agony, of finality; you scream his name, the sound tearing from your throat like a roar of your own.

Viserion’s aureate gaze finally finds yours and, for a split second, everything stops — the storm, the wind, the world itself. In that moment, you see the fire within him, the life, the soul that is yours as much as it is his. You reach out with all that you are: your heart, your soul, your everything, trying to keep him with you.

But ice, as you have found, is relentless; it strikes with lethal precision, piercing through the fire, freezing it from the inside out. Viserion’s roar turns into a strangled cry, his wings faltering, body writhing in the throes of death. The golden light in his eyes dims, flickers, and then — like a candle snuffed out by the cold — it vanishes.

You scream, heart shattering into a million pieces, as he falls from the sky; his massive form crashing into the icy ground with a sound that rips the world apart.

Running to him isn't even an action you registered doing, it was just innate within, instinctual to the most basic degree. You had always come running when any of your children had gotten hurt — tending to their aches and pains, the majority of which being healed by a simple kiss to the affected area — but, as you fall to your knees beside him, you know that this won’t be something you can fix with love, with tender affection.

Your hands reach out to his lifeless body — being unable to not at least try; even though you’re aware it would never work — and shudder at the coldness you find. The ice spreads, creeping over his golden scales, turning them to blue, to white, to nothing. You try to fight it, try to warm him with your touch, try to bring him back from the depths of the chill coursing over him.

But there was no bringing him back from where he’s already been lost.

His golden eyes are closed, his chest still, his fire extinguished, and you are left with nothing but the cold, the darkness, and the empty, hollow ache that gnaws within you.

Another scream rips through the air, but this one is a completely different entity. It’s not a scream of fear, or of pain; it’s one of rage, of a fury so deep you felt like you’d never find the bottom of it, of a mother’s desperate anguish at the loss of her child.  It echoes through the void, reverberating through the emptiness, through the nothingness, tearing at the fabric of the world itself.

The world doesn’t care. It keeps spinning, keeps turning, oblivious to your loss, your grief, your pain.

And, in that moment, as the ice claims Viserion’s body completely, as the cold creeps into your bones, you know one thing with absolute certainty.

This is all your fault.

You failed him.

You were supposed to protect him, to keep him safe, to be the mother he deserved, but you didn’t.

You let him go. You let him fly into the storm, into the darkness, into death.

Now he’s gone.

The darkness closes in around you, the storm howling its triumph, and you are left with nothing except for the icy void that has taken Viserion from you — that now represents your life without him.

You fall into it, letting it claim you, letting it consume you, because without him, there is nothing left.

Awakening with a start, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps as the remnants of the nightmare cling to you, a suffocating shroud of grief and despair, is something you’ve become all too familiar with. The room around you is dark, cold, unfamiliar — the walls pressing in around you like the ice that claimed Viserion.

With your body still trembling, you sit up, skin damp with sweat, and you try to shake off the nightmare even though you know it’s no use. The images are burned into your mind, seared into your soul: Viserion’s lifeless eyes, his body turning to ice, his fire snuffed out by the cold — they haunt you, refusing to let go.

You bring your hands up to your face, trying to steady your breathing, trying to calm the storm raging within you, but the void is still there at the end of it all; still gnawing hungrily at every scrap of weakness it can find, leaving behind a hollow ache that nothing could fill. The cold still lingers over you — icy tendrils creeping over your skin, freezing you from the inside out — and you rub your arms to chase it away but, like with all of your actions, it does nothing. Yet another cruel reminder of what you’ve lost.

Prūmia.

The name is a whisper within your heart, a desperate plea to the Gods to bring him back, to undone what has been done, but you know it’s futile. The Gods are cruel, indifferent to your pain, to the loss that still doesn’t feel real.

Viserion is gone and nothing can bring him back.

Not being able to handle being in bed any longer, you swing your legs over the side of it, bare feet hitting the cold stone floor, sending a jolt down your spine. The room still hasn’t become familiar to you, even after the two days you had been using it, a level of coldness remaining that you couldn’t shake, a stark contrast to the warmth and comfort of the chambers you shared with Daenerys, but you couldn’t stay there. Not after—

You can’t even think about it. The pain is too much, the grief too raw, a wound that refuses to heal.

Rising from the bed, not even surprised anymore by the trembling of your legs — your body weak from the weight of what your grief has done — you make your way over to the small window that overlooks the sea. Moonlight reflects off the waves, casting an eerie glow over the water, but you don’t see it, not truly, not as you once would; all you see are the barest hints of darkness, like a veil of sorrow draped over the night. The water, once a canvas for the moon’s gentle touch, now seems a restless sea of shadows, each ripple a whisper of your pain. Argent light, fractured and cold, dances on the waves like the fleeting echoes of a forgotten lullaby. While the serenity of the night has become a vast, indifferent expanse, a mirror reflecting the hollow cavern of your grief, where each shimmering wave is a silent testament to the void left by Viserion’s absence.

The sharp pain of your nails digging into your forearm is a welcome distraction, one that helps pull you from the void, even if it was only for a minute, and you drag them down, leaving red welts in their wake. It’s a fleeting sense of pain, but it’s barely a whisper compared to everything else.

Your thoughts spiral, a whirlwind of guilt, of anger, of pain. You should have done more. You should have protected him. You should have been the mother he deserved.

You failed him just as you have failed yourself.

Tears come then, hot and bitter, sliding down your cheeks in silent streams. You don’t bother to wipe them away; they are just another small comfort that you’ve been able to find for yourself, a release, a way for you to let some of the pain escape.

It’s not enough, it’ll never be enough, but it was something.

Cold stone greets your back when you can’t find the strength to stand straight anymore, your body beginning to shake with the force of your silent sobs, as another wave of grief washes over you, drowning you in its icy depths. There’s no solace, no comfort, no reprieve, at least not you’ve been able to find; only the void, the darkness, and the unbearable weight that seems to only get heavier as time went on.

You can’t fight it, you’re not sure if you even want to, not when it’s all you have left of him: this grief, this sorrow, this endlessly aching pain.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, leaning against the wall with the last vestiges of your strength, body still trembling. Time had lost its meaning long ago — hours blending into one endless stretch of darkness and despair — but the tears eventually came to a gradual halt, leaving you drained. The void is still there, feasting away, but it has dulled somewhat; leaving behind a numbness that is almost worse than the agony.

While the agony hurt, fierce and relentless, it was a constant, burning reminder of what you had lost; it was sharp, immediate, and painfully real, a torrent of raw emotion that you could still grasp and confront. Now, the pain has given way to a familiar numbness that seeps into every corner of your being, a heavy, suffocating silence that drowns out even the sharpest cries of grief. This numbness was insidious — it doesn't allow you to feel the sting of loss, but instead wraps you in a cold, unfeeling shroud. Stripping you of the ability to mourn, to scream, to find any kind of release; an absence of feeling that gnaws at you, leaving you stranded in a void where even the pain is too distant to touch. It’s a feeling that makes every moment feel like a slow drift through an endless abyss where nothing can penetrate or soothe the emptiness, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of being lost and alone.

Pushing away from the wall, as if trying to distance yourself from the feelings, or lack thereof, plaguing you, you make your way back to bed on unsteady legs. The sheets are cold, unwelcoming, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Crawling beneath them, curling into a ball, your body innately searching for the warmth that could only ever be provided by one person, you will sleep to take you. It’s a pitiful attempt, you’re aware of this, but you can’t bring yourself to stop trying — not if it meant that you might finally be fast enough.

You turn on your side, conceding to the lost battle to find sleep for the time being, and stare at the wall, watching the shadows dance across the stone. You know you should go to her, to Daenerys, but you can’t. Not with everything that’s happened, not with the anger still rising to the surface every time your mind drifted to her.

So, you stay here, in this cold prison you had created for yourself, because it’s easier that way. Blaming Daenerys was easy, being angry at her was simple, but it wasn’t the only reason you had locked yourself away; it wasn't the only reason why you’re haunted by the ghost of your precious boy.

You should have stopped her. You should have convinced her to stay at Dragonstone. You should have kept firm, not bending to her will, or, at the very least, convincing her that all three of your sons needn’t have gone.

You should have done something.

Instead you had done nothing and Viserion was dead because of it.

It’s a truth that you can’t bear to face during the light of day — not when it was so much easier to blame her, when you can get lost in the angry spite that erupts within you.

Staying in this room, locking yourself away — letting them consume you — is the only thing that feels right. It’s the only thing that feels like it would ever be enough to atone for what you’ve lost.

For what you’ve done.

Days pass in a blur, each one blending into the next, indistinguishable from the last, causing you to lose track of time, lose track of everything that isn’t beyond the four walls you’ve trapped yourself within. The world outside your small chamber might as well not exist — there’s nothing there for you, nothing that can pull you from the depths of your despair.

You eat little, sleep even less, and spend most of your time staring out the small window; watching the waves crash against the rocks below, their ceaseless rhythm a dull backdrop to the storm raging inside of you. You don’t leave the room, don’t venture out into the halls of Dragonstone, don’t seek out anyone — especially not her.

She’s worried about you. Even after the fight, even after your continued silence, you can still feel her presence outside your door, hear the soft footsteps as she lingers just beyond the threshold, hesitating uncertainty. Characteristics that were so unlike her it nearly made you weep for an entirely different reason. You know she wants to come in, to comfort and hold you, but you can’t bear it. Can’t stomach the thought of being near her, of feeling the icy numbness transform into raging anger, as you try to come to terms with the part she played in Viserion’s death.

It was her need to save everyone that caused this, your mind hisses. If she had just heeded your words, if she had just listened to you for once, this wouldn’t have happened.

The spiteful anger, the ferocity that scorched through your veins, even if it has been held back by chains, as you don’t wish to unleash something you don’t know if you’ll be able to control, isn’t one you’ll ever get used to, but it’s one that offers you some form of solace from the numbness and unending cycle of grief and pain. Pacing your room in controlled anger, fists clenched at your sides, was much more bearable than sobbing in a ball underneath the covers of the bed.

But you hadn’t pressed her on it either. You didn’t let her know what you were feeling. If you had shown her what you were feeling, if you had shared that with her, maybe she would have listened. The other part of your mind whispers, the part that had been progressively getting beaten back to the recesses of it as the anger began to take over. Neither of you knew this would happen. How could you? Go to her. Be with her. Grieve with her.

You don’t. You push the pleading words away, ignoring the ache of your heart, as you push the rest of the world away with them; letting the silence wrap around you like a shroud.

Not that it gives you any reprieve. The silence was also your enemy — as it’s in the quiet moments, when the world is still, that the memories come; unbidden, unwelcome, dragging you back into a nightmare.

You see his eyes — golden, warm, full of life — turning cold, lifeless, as the ice claims him. You hear his roar — strong, fierce, filled with fire — turn into a strangled cry of pain as death takes him. You feel his warmth, his presence, his soul — so intricately intertwined with your own — fade into nothingness.

Digging your nails into your arms, into your legs, anywhere you can reach, as you tried to feel anything besides the gaping hole inside you, but the pain is fleeting — it’s not enough to keep the darkness at bay for long; not when the pain is done by your own hands and not its own.

The room felt smaller tonight; the walls closer, the air more frigid, the festering emotions welling with you more pressing. From the small window — your only connection to the outside world — you can see that the moon has begun its ascent, casting pale silver light onto the world below. An almost eerie silence descending upon the small chambers you have made into your sanctuary, despite the crashing of waves on the rocks below, the faint whistling of the wind, you’ve grown used to the silence, to the empty numbness that it typically brought, but something feels different.

It’s not until a bolt of anger shoots through you, sudden and sharp, like the crack of a whip against your skin, that you understand that the most fiery of the emotions that had been growing within you — the one you had tried to control more than the others, even if it was always present — had been silently working its way through the tight bonds you had held it in; choosing this moment, this silent night, to finally break free; one that promised only more destruction.

You try to calm yourself, to take a deep breath and wrangle the anger back into its cage, back where it belongs, but it only flares hotter in response, stronger in its defiance to not be leashed any longer. Like a wildfire catching the wind. Clenching your fists, nails biting into your palms, hoping that the pain would distract you enough to allow your anger to be reined back in, but not even the subtle sting could ground you.

The fire within you has been smoldering for too long and now that it’s finally had a chance to ignite you couldn’t stop it.

Why did she go beyond the Wall? Why did she risk him, risk everything? The questions that have plagued you for days spin around in your mind with no relief, no answers. You know the reasoning that Daenerys had given you, but it never felt good enough — never the exact words that you needed to hear on why she had risked it all on something that would obviously end in some manner of death.

You’ve isolated yourself, hoping the distance would dull the sharp edge of your grief, of your bitterness, and fierceness of your anger, that staying away from Daenerys so she wouldn’t ignite the anger that’s been lit all by itself.

Pacing the room, each step heavy with the weight of your emotions, hoping that the repetitive movement that you’ve grown used to would soothe you in some way, but the restless motion seems to agitate you further. The chamber feels too small, too cold, too far removed from the life you once had. From her.

Because, no matter how angry you are with her, no matter how much a part of you hated her for the part she played in Viserion’s death, you still needed her like the air you breathed.

It’s a realization that strikes through you like lightning, a sudden, almost violent, force that ignites every nerve, feeling it burn through your chest, a molten heat that rises to your throat. Now unleashed fully, it overwhelms the grief, filling the hollow space inside you with something sharp, something dangerous.

Your hands tremble, breath quickening, as the anger flows through, unbound from its chains, feeling the heat radiating throughout your body, and, before you know it, you’re moving — feet carrying you swiftly toward the door. 

You don’t think as the anger propels you down the dimly lit corridors of Dragonstone, each step harder than the last, until you reach the chambers you once shared with Daenerys. The place that had been yours together, now nothing more than a reminder of what you’ve lost.

Without pause, knowing if you faltered you’d self-destruct in a different way, you push open the door to the chambers, the heavy wood creaking under your forceful shove. The room inside is dim, lit only by the flickering flames of the hearth. She’s there, seated by the fire, her silver-gold hair catching the light as she stares into the flames, lost in thought.

For a moment, she doesn’t notice you, and you stand there, seething, your heart pounding with the force of your anger and pain, and, for a brief moment you believe that just looking at her would be enough to soothe the flames within you, but the moment she looked up, her violet eyes meeting yours, something snapped inside of you.

You don’t give her time to speak, to offer apologies or explanations; even as she stands up to greet you properly. You don’t want to hear them. You can’t bear to.

In an instant, you close the distance between you, your body colliding with hers in a forceful, desperate motion. She gasps, her breath catching as you press her against the wall, your hands finding purchase on her waist, fingers digging in harder than you mean to. You’re trembling, the anger boiling just beneath the surface, and all you can think is that you want to forget. You need to forget, even if it’s just for a moment.

Need to forget the warmth of Viserion’s gaze, the sound of his loving croon as he nuzzled you, the way his scales sparkled so ethereally underneath the sun… The way you had felt the bond snap within your heart — leaving you adrift, untethered from what you had always believed would be there.

Daenerys looks at you, her expression startled, her lips parted as if to speak once more, but you don’t let her, can’t let her; silencing whatever words she might have uttered with the heat of your body pressed against hers, your heart pounding violently in your chest.

Her hands come to rest on your shoulders, hesitant, unsure, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. The rage, the grief, it’s all too much, and you need something, anything, to drown it out. You don’t care that it’s rough, that it’s unrelenting — knowing that Daenerys would be able to push you off if she didn’t wish for your attention; that, even in your darkness, you’d stop the moment Daenerys wished for you to do so — you just need to feel something other than the crushing, unbearable void that grown larger as the days went by.

You lean in, your forehead pressing against hers, nose gently grazing her own, breaths coming in ragged bursts. She can feel the tremors in your body, the raw emotion barely contained, and her hands, though gentle, feel like fire on your skin, fueling the storm inside you.

“Please,” Daenerys murmurs, voice trembling with the weight of her own pain. “Talk to me. Let me help.”

You can’t — talking won’t help.

Words won’t bring him back, and, as of right now, the only thing that feels real is the heat between you, the desperate need to lose yourself in something other than the pain. Your fingers tighten on her waist, your breath harsh against her neck as you wait for her to take charge; to be your Khaleesi.

She doesn’t disappoint.

Without warning, she crashes her lips against yours; an action that causes your heart to flutter in your chest — not out of love, but out of the need to forget, to make the pain go away, and finally receiving that release. It’s a desperate kiss, full of anger and need, your hands rising to fist in her hair as you pull her closer, demanding more.

Needing more.

Daenerys gasps into the kiss, her hands gripping your shoulders, body pliant, yet unyielding, against yours — a duality that only she could possess. She doesn’t push you away, doesn’t fight you, simply letting you take what you need, her lips moving against yours in a way that only feeds the fire burning inside you; tongue grazing against your own as she sought to taste you after so long apart. Her own desperation became apparent.

Even as your bodies pressed together, as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, of the warmth seeping into your skin from every inch of you she caresses, the pain still lingers, just beneath the surface. The anger, the grief, was still there, simmering, waiting to pull you back under, and you refuse to let that happen.

Your fingers, that were still woven through the silky strands of her hair, tug her head back, forcing Daenerys lips away from you own; a snarl of displeasure rumbling from your dragon’s throat at the added distance, but the look in your gaze must have halted her from reclaiming your lips in a feverish embrace. “Claim me.”

Make me forget…

The force in which Daenerys collides with you again, fingers digging more incessantly into your waist, causes you to stumble back, only her arms keeping you steady against her solid form, as she descends upon you with a fervor that nearly takes your breath away. Her lips traveling down the length of your neck, tongue and teeth clashing in a heated battle to ensure you wouldn’t forget her presence, even after she had pulled away, down towards your breasts.

Daenerys kissed as much skin as your dress would allow, small noises of displeasure rumbling from the back of her throat when the fabric of it impeded her progress on tasting you further, the frustration mounting in a manner that Daenerys was typically able to temper, but it had been too long since she held you in her arms, since she had you squirming beneath her as waves of ecstasy cause you to clench around her length.

It’s an image that causes a hint of darkness — lust mixed with her natural possessiveness — to flicker through her violet gaze, giving you all the warning you needed, when, with a soft grunt, Daenerys simply gripped the thin material of your bodice and ripped it apart; exposing your heaving chest for her hungry eyes.

“That’s better,” Daenerys purred, mostly to herself, as she lowered her head to take a nipple into her mouth; biting the hardened tip before she soothed it with the warmth of her tongue. Your dragon, ever the thoughtful lover, giving your neglected breast much needed attention with her hand; slender fingers rolling a hardened peak in the exact way that caused your back to arch, a moan catching in the back of your throat. The halted noise causes Daenerys to bite down on the underside of your breast — teeth sinking into the tender flesh, ensuring you’d have her mark for days. “None of that, ñuha perzys, I want to hear you sing, I want to hear all of your pretty noises.”

The sound that’s released from you when Daenerys finally pushes you down onto the large bed, her undershirt hanging open, revealing full breasts that caught the eye, but didn’t hold your attention like the growing hardness within her breeches, is practically wanton in nature — a noise that belonged in a pleasure house that the ancient stronghold of the Targaryen legacy.

With your dragon hovering above you — lithe arms bracketing your head — the darkness recedes, the flaming entity that is your anger transforming into burning lust. Your hand trails down her chest, briefly tweaking a hardened nippled before continuing, descending until you got to the laces of her breeches, making quick work at unfastening them in order for you to slip your hand inside.

Hardened warmth greets your palm as you grip Daenerys’ throbbing member — an action that causes her to hiss sharply through her teeth, hips flexing as she tries to hold off from intuitively thrusting forward — ensuring you had her by the base of it.

“You would do anything to bury yourself in me, wouldn’t you?” Even if your core clenched at the thought of being stretched by Daenerys’ thickness, you wanted her to work for it. This night was about your pleasure, about lust and desire being stronger than anger and grief. “To have me mewling beneath you as fill me again and again.” Each word is coupled by a stroke of your hand, feeling the way Daenerys began to tremble under your touch, clearly fighting herself to hold back, to let you run the show for the moment; a response that is rewarded by a quick swipe of your thumb over the tip, smearing the precum down the rest of her shaft to give you an easier time. “Answer me, Daenerys, or I’ll stop and you’ll have to deal with this on your own.”

The spark of fire that ignites within the violet depths sends a powerful jolt to the apex of your thighs, more wetness appearing because of it, as you know you’ll be paying for this in the best possible way later, but Daenerys, not wanting to even take the chance of you leaving, finally relents. “What will you have me do, vāedar hontes?”

Instead of answering her vocally, your hand unlatches from her cock, giving you a clear view of the wetness clinging to your fingers as you bring them to your mouth sucking off Daenerys’ essence; loving the salty, yet slightly sweet, flavor. It’s a sight that causes Daenerys’ eyes to darken further, but you don’t give her time to say anything, your fingers popping out from your mouth as you shift to grip the back of her neck, pushing her downward to where you needed her most.

“Put that talented mouth to use, Khaleesi.”

Daenerys bites your hip bone in retaliation, the sharp sting being soothed with her tongue after a beat, as her mouth trails lower; veering away from your aching center to lavish attention to the trembling thighs. Peppering kisses on the heated flesh, leaving more marks that’d remind you she had been there, as she cleaned the wetness from them, humming lowly at the taste.

A wet kiss pressing against sensitive skin, right next to where you need her the most, a shiver wracks your body, goosebumps rising all over. Gentle puffs of air greets your overheated flesh as Daenerys peers up at you between your legs, ensuring that you’re watching her as she takes her first lick through your slit; from top to bottom and back again.

Daenerys’ hands, sturdy with slight callouses from gripping onto Drogon, glide over your thighs to keep you held open for her; in the next moment it seems as if her entire mouth covers your center, tongue lashing across the little bundle of nerves that makes your entire body quake, before barely dipping into your entrance. You knew that Daenerys probably wished to tease you, to prolong your pleasure as she typically does, but it had been too long since she last had you — since she had felt you cum in her mouth, since she had been buried inside of you, since she had felt you falling apart in her arms — and, selfishly for once, she refuses to wait, her aching length getting little relief from the thick blanket beneath her.

Moans escape your lips brokenly when Daenerys begins to scoop her tongue inside of you, rolling your hips to meet the thrusts of Daenerys’ talented tongue, the sound of Daenerys’ clear enjoyment at the act — soft hums, the clear sight of her swallowing your juices, and a hooded expression on her beautiful face — only adds to the intensity of the entire act, heat pooling with more fervor as two fingers begin to stimulate your clit.

Needing Daenerys closer, you thread your fingers through silky locks, tugging her further into you as you continuously roll your hips. “Fuck,” you cry out, a sharp keen ripping itself from your throat. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

A familiar pressure was building in your core — the trembling of your thighs keying Daenerys into what was about to occur, her efforts doubling as she latches onto the small bundle and sucks.

Overwhelming pleasure courses through you, mouth falling open in a silent scream, as your climax finally crashes through, tilting the world on its axis as you buck into Daenerys’ mouth. The earlier intensity from her tongue turning gentler as she helps you down from you high, softly cleaning you up, groaning headily at your taste, before she pulls away completely; resting her cheek on your thigh as she looks up at you.

She looked completely debauched — slick shining wetly on her face, hair in complete disarray from your hands, face slightly red from her efforts — but she didn’t seem to care in the slightest; not as crawls up you body, taking a nipple briefly into her mouth, sucking harshly, before she settles firmly on top of you.

“I believe it’s my turn now,” she husks, barely giving you a moment to react before she’s fully sheathed within you — your wet heat stretching to accommodate her thickness — a moan leaving you just as a soft groan escapes Daenerys. “Perfect.”

Daenerys, knowing you didn’t want soft or gentle tonight, not with the way you had come to her, sets a brutal pace from the beginning; where it was almost imperceptible to notice when her cock wasn’t within you, thrusting so hard she hit the sweet spot within you over and over again. Your back was officially off the bed as you cling tightly to Daenerys’ back, nails sinking into fair skin, as you had torn her undershirt off ages ago, as broken moans keep falling from your lips, barely able to take a proper breath as your dragon refuses to falter.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the room, intercepted by a mixture of low grunts and high-pitched moans, as the air thickened around you; mingling both of your scents into a heady concoction that caused you to instinctively tighten around Daenerys’ rigid length. An action that causes Daenerys to press her face against your neck with a low groan, teeth digging into your shoulder, as if she was keeping you in place, as she continued to rut against you; your walls continuously milking her, trying to keep her inside for as long as you could, before she plunged back in, and the process continued.

Needing to do something your mouth, as you could feel the urge to talk, as you typically did when your Khaleesi was lost in her passion like this, but knowing that you weren’t here for that — you didn’t come here for normal, you came here for Daenerys to fuck you until you forgot everything — so you force Daenerys away from your shoulder and claim her lips in a sloppy kiss; tongues battling as teeth clash. It was raw, dirty, and completely what you needed as mewls continued to escape, Daenerys unrelenting as your pleasure grew higher and higher — until the familiar peak was in sight.

Daenerys grips the rumpled blanket next to your head as her pace begins to speed up, feeling the way your walls were beginning to flutter, more wetness coating her cock, as a familiar heat begins to build within her own body, but she wouldn’t release until you did. “Come for me, ñuha perzys,” Daenerys whispers hotly against your ear, biting at the lobe as she jerks harshly against the sensitive spot within you. “Let me feel you tighten around me.”

It was as if your body has been waiting for Daenerys’ permission, waiting to feel your dragon’s warm breath against your skin as she whispered sinful words to you, as a cry rips itself from deep within your chest as your body spasms, walls tightening to such a degree that Daenerys couldn’t even thrust anymore — not unless she wished to potentially hurt you — but her own orgasm soon follows, lithe form hunching over you as strong jets paint your insides white with her seed, hips slightly jogging in order to get it as deep as she possibly could. The feeling — of her warmth steadily filling you — only prolonged your own release, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your vision went completely white. Leaving you floating in a void between pleasure and the real world.

When you come back to, chest heaving in exertion, skin gleaming with sweat, you notice that Daenerys had shifted positions; having leant back so you were now straddling her lap, her slowly softening cock still within you, as Daenerys soothingly ran her hands up and down your spine. An action she always did in order to help you settle back into your body, a lovingly gentle action that causes a chaotic array of emotions to run through you, as Daenerys hums an older Valyrian hymn against your ear.

But it was too soft, too much, as the familiar dark emotions that had been lurking beneath the lust and flames of desire, began to make a reappearance. So, you scratch down Daenerys’ back, causing her humming to stutter to a halt, and begin to roll your hips, feeling the way her length began to immediately harden within you, claiming her lips with your own — tongue immediately requesting access so you could get lost in the taste, in the feeling, of her.

You needed to forget and, as Daenerys began to respond with her own thrusts into your core, you knew that this was the only way you’d be able to do so.

A cocoon of darkness, is what you become aware of first, finally pulling yourself from the light slumber that your earlier passion had sent you into, embers from the dying hearth sending small slivers of orange to dance across the stone walls; while the air is thick with the lingering heat of your bodies, sheets still tangled around your legs, dampened by sweat. Lying next to Daenerys, chest heaving, skin still humming from the intensity of what had just occurred, you take note of the aftermath your coupling had wrought across the bed; rumpled linen, pillows cast to the stone floor, sheets strewn in a manner that only came from the most intense of passion. It’s a chaos that aptly matches the turmoil in your heart.

Daenerys shifts beside you, breath slowing, skin warm against where she presses against your own, the steady rise and fall of her chest, her very presence, so familiar to you; yet she had never felt farther away.

Once this would have been enough.

Once the quiet moments after lovemaking would have brought peace; a refuge from the outside world that no one but the two of you could ever enter. 

Now, with everything that has happened, the peace is unattainable, shattered by the memories that haunt you.

The anger that had driven you to her, the overwhelming grief that had spiraled into fury, has been temporarily sated. It’s something you can still feel — a dark cloud on the edge of your consciousness that has decided, for the moment, to remain elusive until it decides to rain hell upon your world once more — however you’re semi-secure in the knowledge that it had been soothed for now. You have tried everything to escape it — drown it in drink, bury it under layers of numbness, letting it loose to the winds in an agonized cry — but nothing has worked.

Not until now.

Not until this moment — a moment enshrouded with the raw, physical connection alongside the woman you love with your entire being.

The woman you blame for your pain.

It leaves you feeling sick with the knowledge that everything you had tried to grasp, to gain control over, had already been out of reach, lulling you into a false sense of security, allowing you to take without thought; the guilt of using Daenerys to temper the roaring typhoon of emotions within your body is yet another emotion you don’t wish to deal with. That you don’t know how to deal with.

Closing your eyes, willing the tears that sting the corner of them to stay at bay, wishing, with every fiber of your being, that you didn’t feel this way. You didn’t want to be angry with her. You didn’t want to blame her. You didn’t want to have all of these dark emotions swirling within you. The way you felt for Daenerys had never been eclipsed by any other emotion except love — by the Gods how you love her — but that very love is now tainted with the bitterness of loss, of a stinging sense of betrayal, and the fiery anger you can’t seem to shake. It festers inside you, feasting on all of the soft parts leaving nothing except a hard exterior behind, turning every moment of closeness into a reminder of what you’ve lost.

You turn your head to look at her, heart aching at the sight; silver-gold hair spills across her pillow in a wild halo, lips swollen from your kisses, violet eyes half-lidded in the aftermath of your intimacy. She looks peaceful, ethereally beautiful, and for a moment, as you observe the love of your life, you almost forget: the pain, the anguish, the grief, the anger. For just a moment you allow yourself to believe that things were as they used to be; before the Wall, before Viserion, before everything changed.

Daenerys moves once more, her hand now resting on your chest, and you feel the warmth of her touch seeping into your skin. It’s comforting — in a supremely twisted way given the raging emotions within you and the state your relationship is currently in — to feel her there, to know that she’s real, that she’s here with you. Your eyes slip shut once more, letting the sensation wash over you, part of you hoping this contact will help soothe the burgeoning anger, trying to hold onto this fleeting moment of peace.

“I missed spending moments like this with you,” she whispers, her voice soft, barely more than a breath. “When it’s just us and the rest of the world fades away; nothing else matters in the end.”

The words are innocent, a simple reflection on the time you’ve spent together, on the love that has bound you together, but they’re an unintentional dagger to the heart. How can she speak of moments like this like nothing has changed? How can she talk about the world not mattering when your own has been torn apart? When Viserion is gone and the emptiness he’s left behind is all you can feel?

A surge of anger, that you’ve been desperately trying to suppress, rushes to the surface, sharp and searing. The brief moment of peace you had found within her arms shatters — leaving you raw and exposed. You can’t do this. Can’t pretend that everything is alright; that her touch is enough to keep the darkness at bay. Feeling all the negative emotions at once — the loss, the bitterness, the helplessness — drives you out of the bed, tearing yourself from the loose embrace.

Daenerys sits up, alarm flashing in her eyes as she watches you scramble to your feet; movements frantic, desperation tinged within each motion, as you rush to try and escape. “What’s wrong?” She asks, concern so apparent within her tone, but you didn’t think you could respond to her if you wanted to; not having the wherewithal to explain the storm that rages inside you.

You need to get away, to put distance between yourself and the source of your pain, but before you can reach the door, Daenerys is standing before you, blocking the way. Sometimes you forgot how quick she could be if she had good enough reason to be; having already pulled on the tunic she had previously discarded.

“Don’t run from this,” Daenerys pleads, taking a hesitant step closer. “Don’t run from me.”

It’s an understandable request given the situation, and the years you have spent together, but it’s not one you can acquiesce to. You can’t face her right now; not with everything that’s boiling up within you. “I can’t do this,” you manage to choke out, hands shaking due to the force of your broiling emotions. “I can’t pretend that everything is alright.”

Her expression crumples at your words, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, Daenerys reaches for you, her fingers brushing your arm, trying to ground you, to keep you from slipping away. “We’ll get through this,” she insists, voice a mixture of desperation and determination. “Whatever we have to face, we will do it together. Just like we always have.”

The heartfelt plea is one that’d normally soften your countenance, opening your heart back up to the warmth of her love, but you don’t think you could bear it now. Not as your thoughts twist and turn the light your shared love has brought to you into unending darkness; reminding you that she was the one that brought Viserion beyond the Wall, the one that left you behind, the one who’s actions have caused a death that could have been avoided.

“The fire that burns within a Targaryen is a double-edged sword,” you muse, a sardonic twist to your lips, as the realization suddenly settles within you; something you had been too blind, too besotted with love, to notice until now. “It can forge a kingdom from the ashes or it can reduce a kingdom to cinders. Those who follow them must always be prepared to walk through the flames and emerge either as conquerors or as nothing more than ash.”

Your words hang heavily in the air — striking Daenerys with a lethal precision, making her flinch as if you’ve physically struck her — but you can’t stop the torrent of emotions that have been unleashed.

“It’s a neat adage, don’t you think? Something I read long ago, in Meereen perhaps, but I have never given it much thought since. Never let it settle long enough to become tangible within my mind,” you continue, the bitterness welling within you impossible to mask. “You’re the Mother of Dragons, Dany! The Unburnt! You’ve always walked  through flames and those who follow you — those who love you — have no choice but to do the same, but not everyone emerges unscathed. Not everyone survives.”

Realization dawns within her violet gaze, Daenerys finally understanding where your words were heading. “Don’t,” she murmurs, voice breaking as she reaches for you once more, but you step back, shaking your head; even if your heart tugs at the sight of her despair.

“Viserion didn’t survive,” you press on, the statement a dagger to your own heart as much as hers. “You took him beyond the Wall and now he’s dead.”

Violet eyes shimmer with unshed emotion — her desperation causing her to try and bridge the distance between you both once more, but you hold up a hand, keeping her at arm's length. “I never wanted this,” she breathes. “I never wanted to lose him. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did,” you snap. “You did, Daenerys, and now I have to live with the consequences.”

She shakes her head, tears falling freely, but her eyes never waver from yours. “Please,” she begs, raw with emotion — completely open at this moment, allowing you to see every single portion of her pain. “Please don’t leave me. We can’t let this tear us apart; not when we’ve already lost so much. I-I can’t lose you too.”

Her words, the sincere emotion behind them, cut deep, cause you to hesitate; the love you feel for her, that you will always feel, warring with the overwhelming grief that has consumed you, but the pain is too great, the loss too unbearable, and you know staying here will only add salt to an already stinging wound.

“I need time.” It seems like a reasonable request. You know, deep within yourself, beyond the anger and pain, that you need Daenerys, but, at the current moment, you can’t be in her presence and heal to the level you need to. However, you allow her next attempt to touch you, knowing that she needs physical contact, not having the heart to deny her again, and soon her hand makes contact with your arm, gripping in a firm, yet still gentle, manner. “I need to think. I need—” You breathe harshly through your nose. “I need space.”

The grip on your arm tightens slightly, her eyes searching yours, looking for something — for anything — that might give her hope. Something that you can’t give her right now. Not when everything was still so fresh. Not when you didn’t even know if the person you used to be — the woman that Daenerys had fallen in love with — was still underneath all of the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” you say, meaning the words despite everything else. “I can’t stay.”

It’s in that very moment that you see her heart break — the realization that you’re truly leaving, finally registering — and it tears at something inside of you, but you push that feeling deep down. Right now, all you can think about, all you can handle doing, is getting away; finding some peace, some clarity.

“Please,” Daenerys whimpers, a sound you never expected to hear her make, let alone be the reason behind it. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone.”

That, more than anything, causes your breath to catch in your throat, a new kind of pain searing through your chest. You hated this — the parts of you not held down by the darkness were screaming at you to stop this, to hold your Khaleesi and never let go — but there’s nothing else you could do. Not in the state you were in because, if you stayed, if you bent, then you’d keep bending until you were broken completely.

You try to ignore the growing sense of distress emanating from your dragon, moving ever closer to the door of the room, subtly switching to the position she had once held, you shared within Dragonstone — a room you knew you wouldn’t enter for a long while after this — to ensure a quick escape.

Daenerys steps forward. “Ñuha perzys.” Hands outstretched to take your own once more — panic-stricken desperation etched across her face, while violet pools shimmer with more tears — but you twist away from her. Knowing, deep within yourself, that if you let her touch you, if you let her in now, you’d crumble, and that’s not something you’ll allow yourself to do. Not now. Not with this. Not when your son was dead and you’re still breathing, and you still needed to come to terms with that. “Please.”

But, even now, even with all the pain, the grief, the anger, swirling within your body, the familiar urge to look at your Khaleesi, to find solace within her gaze, within her presence, trickles through you like a mountain stream; eroding the miasma of emotions for just enough time that you felt compelled to listen. Maybe because you knew it could be the last time you do so?

The sight that greets you is one that’ll haunt your dreams — just like the emptiness within your heart will forever carry Viserion’s loss — and you wish, for just a moment, that the love you shared with Daenerys wasn’t so strong, so overwhelmingly life-changing, so you could look at her, look at the woman that took away your son, your Prūmia, and feel absolutely nothing at the sight of her devastation, of her anguish.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You think, watching as Daenerys tries to center herself, hands curling around the ends of the loose tunic she had thrown on in her haste to catch you. She has always made you feel too much. Awakening things within you that you never believed possible. You just never imagined that she’d be the cause of this much darkness when she’s always been your light.

“I never thought this would happen. Never even believed it to be a possibility.” A bitter smile curls your lips, tears finally slipping down your cheeks, matching the ones falling across Daenerys’. “It’s my own fault, of course. For not foreseeing this to some degree. I was foolish enough to fall in love with a dragon never expecting to be burnt. Now I’m left behind with the scars of what once was and the ashes of what could have been.”

You don’t give her time to respond — knowing that nothing will change the outcome of this, because no matter what she said, no matter what reasons she gave you, or how much she pleaded, how much she begged, Viserion would still be gone when her words turned into mere echoes within Dragonstone — fleeing from the room that had once been your sanctuary in times that have always been rife with uncertainty.

Ignoring the wail of your name as the doors slam shut with a finality that’d echo within your memories for far longer than you think you can bear.

It’s the second time you have done that, you realize. The second time you had left her behind.

It hadn’t gotten any easier nor do you think it ever would, and you hated yourself just a bit more for falling back into her arms, for seeking her out, and causing more pain because of it. There was more than enough of that already.

Viserion was gone, your son was dead, but there was some form of peace in that, in knowing that he was laid to rest. Even if his memory would still haunt you until the day you drew your last breath. While Daenerys was a living ghost, a tangible phantom, who’d bring her own whirlwind of grief and agony.

You don’t know which is worse; living with the memory of your dead son or with the living ghost of the love of your life that caused his death — both haunting you, one in every shattered dream and the other in every hollow embrace.

Daenerys may still be alive, but you’ve lost her just the same, and you don’t know if you’ll ever find her again.

The days following your disagreement with Daenerys passed in unending monotony, self-inflicted numbness casting the world into varying shades of gray.

But could you truly trivialize the harsh words you had hurled at Daenerys as a mere disagreement? It’s something that you have wondered every time your mind inevitably went back to that moment — observing how everything came into fruition; how a brief moment of peace had been torn apart due to the unending despair that has plagued your every waking moment since you heard the news — wherein your normally loving words had twisted into something that seemed like it was coming from someone else.

They were a poison, seeping into the fragile bond you both had fought so hard to build, had spent years strengthening into an enduring relationship built upon a foundation of love and trust stronger than even Valyrian Steel. The memory of her eyes, usually burning with resolve, haunted you — clouded with hurt and grief, not just for Viserion, for the bond that had severed the moment he fell from the sky, but the knowledge that she had possibly lost you too. You had seen the pain you caused etched on her face, and that image refused to leave your mind.

Even thinking of it now, the despair so clearly burning within her normally vibrant violet gaze, causes you to flinch at the reminder that you had been the one to cause such a state; something that you had always vowed to never do. You had seen the way Daenerys clung to people that had earned her loyalty, earned her love, her devotion. She had already lost so much: her parents, her siblings, her husband and unborn son, warriors that had sworn to fight under her banner, and numerous others that promised to be there for her but had proved to be nothing but snakes in the end; just waiting for a time to strike while reaping the benefits of being in the presence of the last dragon.

You had loved Viserion as fiercely as any mother loves her child and his death had shattered you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. The bond you shared with him had been unlike anything else in this world — an extension of your soul, a piece of your very being. Now, with him gone, it felt as if that part of you had been violently torn away, leaving behind a bleeding, festering wound that no amount of time could ever hope to heal; a wound that had birthed the vicious words that you had hurled at Daenerys — they were daggers, sharp and unforgiving — with the sole purpose of hurting her in the way that she had hurt you.

Spite and cruelty had never been part of your repertoire — kindness and compassion had always been at the very crux of your being — but it has suddenly become the only thing you could stand to grasp. As if, in the absence of love, bitterness was the only armor strong enough to protect the shattered remnants of your heart. The warmth that once defined you has been buried beneath layers of resentment, each act of malice a desperate attempt to shield yourself from further pain, even as it pulls you further away from the person you once were; from the woman that you have loved since she had awakened the feeling within you.

Grief is a poignant beast, you’ve come to realize, dragging its heavy claws across the heart, carving deeper and deeper burrows that widen into an endless chasm; devouring the light, leaving behind a void so vast that no bridge of time or love can seem to span it. A chasm that yawns wider with each passing day, echoing with the sounds of what once was, relentless and unyielding in its pursuit of every lingering joy. Until all that remains is the hollow ache of absence and the weight of memories too heavy to bear.

Dragonstone had become almost unbearable to traverse during the day: filled with Dothraki and Unsullied, with advisors and allies, with friends, all knowing what had occurred between you and Daenerys. Their gazes ranging from pity to curiosity to a protective rage — an emotion that gave you an inkling about how Daenerys has been faring in the days since your disagreement — and you couldn’t stand to be analyzed in such a way, couldn’t stand to be the source of courtly intrigue, nor could you stand the constant need for people to try and help; even if it’s from the best possible place. 

You found that the nights didn’t bring you much solace either. In the stillness, the weight of your grief pressed down even harder, a suffocating blanket of despair that wrapped around you, refusing to let go. The walls of Dragonstone, cold and unyielding, seemed to close in, amplifying the emptiness inside you. Sleep eluded you, and when it did come, it still brought the nightmares that have consumed you since you heard the news — visions of Viserion taunting you; his comforting roar turning into a screech of agony, golden eyes that blazed like the sun being extinguished, his fire, his warmth, disappearing forever. Each time, you woke with a start, the sound of his loving croons resounding in your ear, following each beat of your shattered heart.

So, not knowing what else to do, not being able to withstand the prison you had constructed any longer, you sought refuge on the rugged cliffs of Dragonstone; away from the bustling interior of the castle, but not too far to make you feel completely disconnected from the world around you. It’s a haven you find yourself standing upon now, the cold wind whipping around you as you stare out at the churning sea below.

Here, amidst the raw beauty of the cliffs, you let your thoughts wander; the vast expanse of the ocean stretching before you gives the perfect view to let go, to let your eyes watch the soothing way in which the waves continue to move, a stark contrast to the confined spaces of Dragonstone. It feels like a place where you can breathe, if only slightly, away from the prying eyes and well-meaning, but intrusive, concerns of the court.

Your thoughts shift, as they often do, to Daenerys wondering what she could be doing in the wake of everything that has happened. Your mind’s eye brings a vivid picture of her in the chambers that you had stormed out of days prior, a place that you used to find solace, now filled with a heavy silence. How does she cope with Viserion’s death? With the burden of your anger still lingering in the air? Does she, too, seek refuge in the quiet spaces of Dragonstone? Or is she out there, being the indomitable conqueror that’d make her ancestors proud, dealing with the fallout of her decisions; attempting to carry on despite the wounds that she now bears?

The thought of her enduring similar pain tugs at something within you. Despite the anger and pain that still chokes you every time you take a breath, despite the grief that’s still burrowed deep within your heart, a part of you — the part that is still trying to hold all your shattered pieces together; the part that remembers the kindness and love that had encompassed who you are — understands that she is as broken by the loss as you are. It’s a realization, one that had taken days to finally come to terms with, that makes your own pain more poignant; knowing that the woman you’re at odds with is also mourning. Possibly even feeling abandoned and misunderstood — yet another promise that you had broken in the dark abyss of your grief.

You think about the last words you had exchanged, the vitriol behind them on your side and the pleading desperation on her own, and it stings to remember how your pain had twisted your words into something that only deepened the ever growing rift between you both.

If only you’d been able to see through your anger, you think, jaw clenched in an effort to stop the scream that wished to tear itself from your throat; announcing to the world the depths of the opposing emotions within you. If you had then you might have been able to approach her with the understanding that, despite everything that has transpired, she was grieving just as profoundly.

Standing on the cliff, cool air washing over you, the sound of waves crashing against jagged rock resounding within your ear, you try to clear the fog of anger and regret that has hung over you. Reconciliation had always been something you knew would be inevitable — despite the pain, the anger, and overwhelming sorrow — understanding that a life without Daenerys wasn’t a life worth living. You also know that, if you truly wish to reconcile with your soulmate, you need to move beyond the blame and confront your own feelings. Reconciliation wasn’t about who was right or wrong, but about finding common ground in your shared loss.

But how could you?

How could you bridge the gap when your emotions were so tangled? When the anger and grief that you directed at her felt justified in your own suffering but wrong when you considered her side? The hurt had been real, but it wasn’t all that defined her actions; she had lost Viserion too, and her heart was likely just as broken as yours, though perhaps in different ways.

The waves continue their relentless assault on the rocks below, and you find a kind of solace in their persistence; they remind you that even in the midst of turmoil, there is a rhythm to life that continues, a reminder that healing is a process that takes time and effort. It may not be possible to find perfect words or to erase the pain that has accumulated, nor do you think that pain will ever truly go away, not when its origin is the way it is, but you have to try.

Determined, you turn away from the edge and make your way back to the castle. Perhaps the path to healing is not in grand gestures or perfect apologies, but in the simple act of showing up, of being willing to face the difficult truths and seek understanding.

To honor the love that, despite everything, still exists between you.

You brace yourself for the confrontation that looms ahead; the entire thing feeling inevitable. The days of avoidance, of festering wounds and unspoken grief, have stretched on for far too long. Hearing Daenerys out, allowing her the chance to air out her pain, the anger and sorrow that has been gnawing at her heart since Viserion’s death was the least you could do after everything you’ve already done. Even if all the things you hurled towards Daenerys, at the time, felt justified, you know that they’re anything but; now they’re simply an added weight that you must now shed if you are to continue forward.

If you are to heal.

But healing doesn’t come easy and it certainly won’t come without more pain. You’re aware of this, knowing that when you face Daenerys it will not be simple apologies and easy forgiveness; she will be rightfully angry and hurt. You had abandoned her in the aftermath of Viserion’s death, retreating into your own grief, leaving her to carry the burden alone; with the added weight that she might not have only lost her son but you as well. Daenerys was strong, the strongest person you’ve ever met, but you know her, know that beneath her strength lies a heart that feels too deeply, a soul that has been wounded again and again. Your actions had only wounded her further, something you had promised yourself you’d never do so long ago, with your absence, with your vitriolic words and then your silence, and, potentially above all, your inability to stand beside her when she needed you most. 

With each step back towards the castle, the enormity of what you’ve done presses down upon you — it’s not only about Viserion, not anymore, it’s about the distance you’ve allowed to grow between you and Daenerys; the love that’s been overshadowed by loss and anger.

Blaming her had been easier — allowing him to go North, not protecting him as fiercely as you would have — but you now know it had all been a smokescreen for your own feelings of failing as Viserion’s mother; for not being there to save him like he had always saved you.

And now you’ve been absent in saving the only other person who matters most to you — Daenerys.

The ancient castle looms ahead, its dark silhouette stark against the fading light of day, the closer you get causes your chest to tighten. You don’t know how to fix this, don’t know how to find the words that will make her understand how much you regret what’s happened, how much you hate the distance that you’ve created, but you have to try. You don’t know what you’d be if you didn’t.

Viserion may have been your heart — your Prūmia — but Daenerys was your soul.

Moving through the corridors of Dragonstone, each step louder in the silence of your surroundings, as the air around seemed colder in comparison to the warmth of the sun; the fire that had once warmed the halls seems dim now, almost as if it was reflecting that coldness that had descended between you and Daenerys. Not knowing where exactly your dragon was, but allowing your instincts to guide you, you find yourself heading towards the chambers that Daenerys often retreats to when she needs solace.

When you reach the doors to the chambers you had once shared, the flickering torch light casts your shadow on the stone walls; a subtle reminder of the darkness you’ve both been carrying.

It’s a long time before she responds — leaving you to linger in the silence you’d rather forget — but then the door finally opens, Daenerys standing before you, a vision of fragile strength: silver-gold hair falling in loose waves around her face, undone from the typical Dothraki braids, a pallid hue to her skin that brings out the darkened circles beneath her brilliant violet gaze.

A gaze that was harder than you could ever remember, but all that you could imagine yourself deserving after everything that’s happened. Sharper, as if the amethyst hue had been honed by the same grief and guilt that had cut into you, the room behind her, lit by only the hearth, causes a glow to wrap around her — ethereal as your dragon has always been.

“Why are you here?” It’s a pointed question, one that lingers due to the coldness within her tone; protective walls firmly in place. “Is there something you need?”

You open your mouth to speak, the words die as soon as they’re born on your tongue, her questions hanging in the air between you, but the answer you wished to give seemed so much more complicated than you could ever put into words.

Why are you here? To apologize? To seek forgiveness? To mend what’s been broken? Perhaps you wished to do all of it, but none of it feels like enough. 

“I came to—” You search for the right word, but you can only manage a feeble one, voice quieter than you intended. “—talk.”

Daenerys narrows her eyes slightly, the hurt and anger she’s been carrying apparent, but she steps aside; allowing you to enter, but the distance between yourself and your dragon felt more than physical. It feels as though the Narrow Sea stretches before you — filled with all the things left unsaid, all of the pain neither of you had fully acknowledged, simply letting it drown in the murky waters — but if the Dothraki could find the courage to cross it then so would you if it meant your Khaleesi would be waiting for you on the other side.

Taking in the room, a familiar sight but somehow different all the same — just like everything between you and Daenerys; similar but different, right but wrong, close but distant — as the fire crackles in the hearth, doing little to warm the coldness that had settled within the chambers. You watch as Daenerys moves to stand beside the hearth, refusing to sit, seemingly believing this wouldn’t be a conversation long enough wherein she’d have to get comfortable, her posture defensive; her violet eyes filled with a wariness that should never be within her gaze.

“You said you wished to talk,” she says, voice quiet but steady. “So talk.”

You swallow hard, the words still struggling to come out: Where do you even begin? How do you properly explain the storm of emotions that had made their home within your body since you had been told the news of Viserion’s death.

“I’m sorry,” you finally reply, the simplest of all words, but heavy with the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid for too long. “I’m sorry I left you to deal with everything alone. I’m sorry that I had let my anger control me that night. I’m sorry for blaming you when—” You falter for a moment, remembering the way you had sharply blamed Daenerys, putting the horrific accusation into words, even though you had never said it since. “—when it wasn’t your fault.”

Daenerys’ expression slightly softened, her head tilting as her eyes searched yours as she decided whether or not to believe you.

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” It’s a bitter question, one borne from your constant rejection of her love, and it’s something you deserve to shoulder. “You left me. Twice. You blamed me. You abandoned me when I needed you most. And now, after all this time, you show up and say you’re sorry?”

Her words sting like a blade to the heart — making you realize exactly what your own, much harsher, words had done to her; as Daenerys wasn’t aiming to hurt you, not truly, but when you had been lost in your grief, in the darkness it brought, you had been doing so. “I know,” you concede, not even trying to defend your actions. All you wished to do was explain and see where it led you and Daenerys from here. “I hurt you, I made things worse, and I don’t have an excuse except to simply say that I was lost. When Viserion died it felt like a part of me died with him. I didn’t know how to handle it.” You look away from your Khaleesi then, shame lying heavily upon your shoulders. “I didn’t know how to stay.”

Violet eyes blaze into life from her anger — the flicker of emotion she’s been holding back finally breaking through — as she tenses. “And you think I didn’t feel the same? He was my son too, I loved him just as much, maybe in a different way but no less profound, but I didn’t get to fall apart, did I? I didn’t get to disappear. I had to keep fighting, keep leading, keep moving forward, and where were you?” Her voice cracks with emotion and, for a brief moment, the anger in her gaze is replaced by something far more vulnerable; pain, raw and unfiltered. “Where were you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice breaking under the weight of the truth. You hadn’t known where you were. Not truly. Your body may have been in Dragonstone physically, but you hadn’t truly been here for such a long time. “I don’t know why I couldn’t stay, I should have, but I was so angry.” Fists clenching at your sides, you shake your head, as if to clear the fog from your mind. “Angry at the world, at everything that had happened, and I took it out on you because you were the only person I could blame when I didn’t wish to face the truth. It was easier to blame you than facing the fact that I couldn’t protect him. That I wasn’t there for him in the way that he deserved.”

The silence that follows your admission feels like a chasm, similar to one the darkness had created within you, vast and unbridgeable, as you watch the way Daenerys tenses even further, lips thinning, as she struggles to hold back her emotions further.

“I needed you,” she whispers, finally breaking the silence. “And you weren’t there.”

Those words, devastating in their simplicity, shatter something inside you, causing you to take a step toward your dragon, but she doesn’t move. Daenerys’ arms remain crossed, her posture still defensive, but the violet pools you adore were shimmering with unused tears. And it breaks you even more to see her like this — your strong, unconquerable dragon — like this.

To know that you had been the one to cause it.

There’s nothing you could truly say to make up for what you’ve done — what you’ve put her, and yourself, through — but you’d never stop trying. “I know,” you say, regret filling you. “I failed you, Daenerys. I let my own pain blind me to yours, I let the grief and bitterness consume me, and I left you to bear the weight of it all alone.” Your lips thin into a line, nails slightly digging into your palms. “And I hate myself for that. I hate that I wasn’t strong enough for you, for us, like you have always been towards me.”

The tears that had been gathering in her gaze finally spill over, cascading down her cheeks like falling stars, glimmering underneath the light, and she turns away from you; as if she was trying to hide the vulnerability in her expression, her hands gripping the back of the chair that was situated before the hearth, knuckles white from the effort.

“I didn’t want to be alone.” Daenerys’ typically strong voice trembles under the weight of her emotions, her confession hanging in the air; as if on a delicate thread made entirely of fear and vulnerability. The room seems to shrink around her, the silence amplifying the rawness of her words. Her fierce exterior, always so carefully maintained, now cracks, revealing the depths of her isolation. “I didn’t want to carry the pain alone, but I didn’t have a choice when you left me.”

You take another tentative step toward her, heart aching at the sight of her crumbling before you; the woman you have seen standing tall before armies, who had survived betrayal, loss and death, in a manner you couldn’t truly comprehend, now stood before you broken because of your absence, by the weight of the grief you shared.

“I didn’t know how to be there,” you admit. “I didn’t know how to stay when hurt so much, when I could barely contain the anger within me, but I know now that leaving you was the worst thing I could have done.”

Daenerys turns to face you once more, and this time you don’t find any anger within her violet gaze — only pain that mirrors your own. “Why now?” The fragility of the question showcasing how afraid Daenerys was of your answer. “Why come back now?”

The words that flow from your lips leave as easily as a dragon flies through the air — an innate response that you didn’t need to ponder, to question, or feel as if it wasn’t enough. “Because I can’t do this without you. It took me a lot longer than I’d ever like to admit, to realize that I was using my isolation as a shield and you as the martyr I needed to disappear.” You shake your head, agitated at what you’ve done even if you know that it might have been for the best at first, but you shouldn’t have continued to stay away, continuing to let the darkness fester within you. “As much as I tried to shut out the pain, trying to convince myself that it’s easier to stay away, because then I’d be away from the woman my darkness had blamed, it wasn’t. It was yet another lie my mind had created, a feeling of false security, to ensure I wouldn’t get hurt again, trying to protect what I had left. But it didn’t help, it only made things worse, unbearable, because I need you, Daenerys. I always have and always will.”

Her expression softens at your confession, your heartfelt admission to how you almost lost yourself to your own mind, the rest of the sharpness in her gaze fading away, becoming open. Taking a step forward, you watch, with bated breath, as Daenerys’ arms uncross and she tentatively reaches for you, testing if it was safe to touch again — clearly remembering the times you had rejected her affection. When the warmth of her hand finally rests upon your chest, over your heart, the contact is like a lifeline you’ve needed for so long, pulling you from the murky waters that have been trying to pull you under, grounding you in the reality of her presence.

“I missed you,” she confesses in return, voice thick with emotion. “Every day, I missed you. Even when I was angry, even when I was hurt by your actions, even when I thought I hated you.”

The words hit you like a wave, almost causing you to detach from the buoy her touch had given you, but you refuse to let yourself sink again, to be consumed by the darkness when finally in the face of your sun. You reach up to take her hand in yours, holding it tightly to ensure she didn’t slip away, as you reply. “I missed you too. Even when I was at my worst, even when my thoughts didn’t feel like my own, some part of me, the truest part of me, missed you too. I’m just glad I didn’t ruin everything.”

Daenerys shakes her head, tears still steadily slipping down her cheeks, but she no longer looks devastated. “We’ve both made mistakes,” she admits. “We’ve both been hurt, but the one thing that could never change is the love I feel for you, not even when it felt like everything was falling apart, my love has always remained true.”

You can’t hold back your tears any longer, blurring your vision for a moment, as you pull her into your arms, holding her as tightly as you can; trying to make up for all the time you had lost while apart. Daenerys, in return, clings to you just as tightly, body trembling against yours as the weight that seemed to have pressed upon day-by-day began to finally lift.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper against the soft skin of her neck, your face pressed as close as you can manage; delighting in the familiar scent of your Khaleesi. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know,” Daenerys soothes, arms tightening as she presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m sorry too.”

For a long time, you just hold each other, the silence that had descended between you — not the familiar entity that had kept you company for so long — filled with an unspoken understanding that you both had been through hell, but you’ve managed to come out on the other side.

The scars are still there, the wounds still fresh, but the love that has been between you is there, shining through the pain. A North Star in the darkness that promised salvation, leading you home within your Khaleesi’s embrace.

Eventually Daenerys pulls back, only slightly as she didn’t wish to put too much distance between you, but just enough to be able to look at you fully. Her eyes, still red and swollen from crying, are filled with a warmth that you haven’t seen in such a long time; amethyst pools shining like the precious gems as Daenerys seemed to glow from within.

“We’ll get through this,” Daenerys vows, determined to not falter again. “We have to get through this, ñuha perzys. We belong together.”

All you can do is nod in response, throat too tight with emotion to allow any form of speech, instead you lean forward to press a kiss to your Dany’s cheek, nuzzling against the warmth you find there, heart swelling with a mixture of relief and love.

Knowing, with everything within you, that as long as you had her by your side, your Khaleesi’s warmth keeping the cold at bay, you’d be able to face whatever comes next.

Together.

[writers-hes]

Sydney Saw it First (c. berzatto x reader)

You’re Carmy’s friend from Noma and he asks tou to mentor Marcus before he heads to Copenhagen to stage. Sydney thinks you’re both fools in love and she’s determined to fix it. (fluff, sydney being the best wingman, inspired by the scene in new girl when nick points his shoes to jess, two fools in love)

navigation | main master lists

It was hard for anyone to read if the Carmen Berzatto cared.

Some days, he was loving but most days he was tenacious. It’s not like he meant it. It was just how he was wired; how he reacts to things. The crew learned that the hard way, when he exploded on Marcus, when he screamed at Sydney…when the stress gets to him, it really gets to him.

He’s imposed penance on himself for his actions, secluding himself from the world…being unreachable. If there was one thing in the world that he craved and that he was afraid of, it was love. So he secludes himself until he feels alone. Relationships were unnatural to him.

But it came naturally with you.

You were training to become a pastry chef at Noma when Carmy was there. You met each other at the halls, shared friends that it was inevitable for you two to become friends. He was your first taste tester when you first made croissants. He helped you make your own sourdough starter for the sourdough cookies that you were experimenting on. You were the first person whom he cooked his mom’s picatta. You were his sous chef, helping him prep the vegetables on important dates. When news arrived detailing Mikey’s death, you were the first person he called. 

You two were great. You were great.

If anyone deserved praise, Carmy thought that it was you.

He didn’t know why but when he saw that Marcus was really interested in pastry, he called you; asked you to come and teach a really, really eager student that was going to stage in Copenhagen soon. Sydney also suggested that sweets are needed in a restaurant. You didn’t hesitate to board the plane upon his request. If anything, you were glad that he was finally asking you for a favor. It only meant that he was still—if not more—comfortable with you. 

You arrived in Chicago all smiles, and greetings. It was Richie and Carmy who picked you up from the airport and Richi was floored. How did his cousin even manage to tolerate you? He didn’t hate you immediately, of course. In any case, Carmy told you about his little girl; you decided to bring her a little gift. 

“I didn’t know what to get you but Carmy said that you have a daughter so I got this instead,” you said, extending a toy. “My niece has the same one…so, I figured…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie nodded. He muttered a small ‘thanks’ before helping you with you luggage. 

The night before, Carmy instructed everyone during family to behave. 

“Look, there will be no funny business, alright? My friend is flying in tomorrow to oversee Marcus and act as his mentor while we fix the Bear. No taking her knife away, no screaming, no fighting, no fucking anything, alright, chefs?” he asked. When he was met with silence, “Alright, Chefs?”

A couple of ‘heards’ were thrown. 

“Who is this friend, anyway, Jeff?” Tina asked. “You didn’t tell us to behave when Sydney over here first came,”

“Someone from Copenhagen. She, uh—“

“She?” Sweeps asked, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. “You got a girl, chef?”

“No,” he replied. “She studied in Copenhagen as a pastry chef, okay? No big deal—“ he proceeds to mention your name and how you’re just really super cool. “No big deal—“

“Wait, Chef, that’s a big deal!” Marcus said. “Oh, you know her recipes are all over my station, right?” he asked. “Sydney—“

“I went to the place she worked at in New York after I graduated. Everything’s just so…good. Amazing,” she recalled. “So, yes, it’s a big deal,”

“Yeah, whatever. Just promise me to behave, alright?” Carmy asked. “She’ll have to make do with what we currently have but I’ll try to stock up and set up the station before she arrives tomorrow.” 

-

You arrived at the Beef—er, the Bear a day after your arrival in Chicago. You were able to find a place that was near the city center for a good deal. You were here indefinitely, still trying to figure out if you wanted to run your own bakery or just work with others for the rest of your life. Seeing Carmy take the leap was insipiring. 

“Hello, chefs, I’m Y/N,” you said, a friendly smile gracing your features. Carmy was right beside you, watching everyone. “I’m a pastry chef and I graduated with Carmy in Copenhagen. I’m here to mentor Marcus but of course, if you have any questions regarding anything, you can ask me. I know how to cook too…and uh, I’ll be taking care of family tonight,”

Carmy jerks from his relaxed position. 

“You sure?” he asks softly. “I can take care of family, if you’re too tired.”

“Yeah. It’s like initiation,” you nod, looking at him and then looking back at the new faces in front of you again. “Do you have any questions…”

Sydney raises her hand. 

“Um, I’m sorry if this comes across rude but why are you here?” she asked.

“Oh, well, I’m not really tied down to anything right now. When Carmy called me, asking if I could come here, I decided to go. I’m here in Chicago indefinitely and I’ve been receiving invitations to cook, teach a class, whatever. I might accept some of those,” you said. Sydned nodded. Damn, Noma’s chefs were being chased from left and right. She was in the presence of two. 

“Do you have a little notebook?” Tina asked, making Sydney scofd. “With recipes?”

“Um, no,” you shook your head. “I keep all my notes in my head and then write it afterwards,” Tina liked you already. 

“What do you think about Carmen Berzatto—“

“Anyway, that’s all, Chefs! Marcus, come to the office with me, chef,” Carmy said, breaking up the huddle, and making you laugh. He discreetly pulls down your shirt, a sign that you should follow him too to the office. When you were both out of earshot, Sydney asked no one in particular.

“That girl and Chef? There’s something,”

That afternoon, during family, Sydney watched the two of you like a hawk. Confirming her suspicions when Carmy stayed for family and sat beside you.

-

Sydney notices it for the second time. You were going over the Noma “picture book” with Marcus, telling him how some of the desserts came about.

“What’s this?” Marcus asked, pointing at a photo of the dessert that put you on the map. 

“That’s a dish of candied hallabong peel, with a prosecco peach sorbet, on a bed of meringue, topped with candied cherries. I got it because some of my friends went to Jeju sometime and brought back this orange hybrid. I think….I think we can recreate it but it wouldn’t be the same without the orange.”

“What about the flesh and the juice?”

“I turned it into like an orange-chocolate cake with chocolate mousse,”

Carmy was just passing by but he decided to watch you interact with his employees instead. 

“Anyways, where’s your chocolate cake? Let’s taste it and compare it from the last one. Also, I can send you my recipe for sourdough doughnuts. Just give me your email,” you said, looking up briefly to find Carmy already looking at you. It made him feel good to see you incorporate yourself so well in the kitchen. Well, it’s not like the Bear is open but his staff went to you for some tips and advice. They were all undergoing some sort of training to make everything more elevated. “Hey, Carm. Do you need anything?” 

“Hey-hey,” he coughed, ashamed for being caught. “Nothing. Uh—“

“Chef, did you ever try Y/N’s stuff?” Marcus asked. He’d really, really, really want to taste something that you made someday. They were all delicate and so detailed. It’s probably why you got multiple awards at such a young age.

“I did. She used to bring big Tupperware containers of things they made in the kitchen,” 

“He finished them all,” you told Marcus. “Wouldn’t spare me a bite,”

“I don’t know, bug,” he teased. “I vividly remember you begging me to do it because you were so sick of fucking croissants.”

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, a playful smile on your face. “Go on now. Marcus and I have stuff to do and you’re distracting us.”

“In my own restaurant,” Carmy mutters, shaking his head. Sydney’s eyes immediately directed to Tina. Did you see? Did you hear the word ‘Bug’?. Tina only shrugged. 

-

Sugar dropped in to check on the improvements being done at the Bear  when she saw you and Carmen at the back, talking. She had to double take what she saw because it was quite…odd to see him talk to you with the same twinkle he used to have. She has never seen him like this. He was genuinely laughing at some of the things that you were saying, a shared plate of leftover chocolate cake between the two of you. 

“Who’s the girl outside?” Sugar asked, looking at Richie and Sydney for answers. 

“Some fancy pastry chef Carmy met in Copenhagen,” Richie replied. “It’s a whole bet now, you know? They’re always out in their own world ever since she got here,”

“Everyone puts in 10 to predict what’s going to happen,” Tina said. “You’re betting?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sugar says, giving a bill to Tina. “I bet…I bet they’ll fall in love right before she leaves Chicago. Like, on the way to the airport. Carmy’s going to tell her that he loves her and she stays,”

Laughter echoes in the room. 

“This is not some fucking movie, cousin,” Richie said. “Obviously, Carmy’s not gonna do shit about it.”

“I think…she’ll call him over and they’ll share a moment,” Marcus said. “He’s always at her place, did you know that?”

Meanwhile, unaware of the ongoing bet, Carmy looks at you.

“What do you think about Chicago?” he asked, a cigarette hanging idly on his fingers. 

“It’s nice…chilly,” you said. “But it’s nice. I’ve been offered jobs here, you know?”

“Hm?” he asked. “Are you planning to take them?”

“I’m…thinking about them. They’re all the same but like, I want my own bakery, you know? My own place.” you said. “It’s going to be a lot of work if I do that and I don’t necessarily have the staff to do all that.” you said. 

“If you want…you can come stay with us if you’re not sure,” he offers. “Like a pastry chef. Actually, I’ll have to ask Sugar and Sydney if it’s alright with them but you can stay here,”

“Bear, I don’t want to impose—“

Sydney was walking outside to throw the trash but she stopped her trackes when she heard you talk. 

“I want you here,” Carmy said with conviction. “But if you don’t-don’t like it here in Chicago, I wouldn’t mind either, you know? It’s just that…I want you here and-and fuck, I don’t know. I guess working with you made it so much more fun again, you know? Like us in Copenhagen. I mean, we’re always a team and-and it’s nice to have you here with me. Sugar and spice? Sweet and spicy or whatever the fuck they called us back then,” he chuckled, inhaling his cigarette to calm himself down. “We can make it work,”

“Yeah, yeah. You go talk about it to Nat and Syd,” you said, taking a swig of your water. “And then we’ll talk. Cool?”

“Cool,” he shrugged. Sydney leaves and goes back to where the commotion was. 

“I change my scenario,” she said. 

“You can’t do that, Sydney,” Richie said. “It’s a bet! You have to pay again,”

Sydney breathed, what was ten more, right? Fuck. 

“Fuck, sure, okay. Whatever,” she said, giving Richie the bill. “She’ll stay here. She’ll realize the there’s nothing waiting for her back home and she’ll stay here,”

“Where did you get this?” Fak asked. “Quite—oh my God. Sydney, did you fucking cheat?” 

“No, I didn’t fucking cheat!” she defended, it was a lie. “Can’t you see the two of them? Always in their own world? How would Carmy let her go?”

“Jeffrey has a point,” Tina shrugged. “But if she loses, just know that you lost twice, Jeff,”

“I know,” 

-

You, Sydney, and Carm all went to his apartment. It was where the two of them made a menu while you acted as a consultant and a taste tester. Their palates were fucked and they didn’t know what to do or what to cook anymore. So they asked you. But you weren’t there today. You and Marcus were in your apartment, making up stuff for dessert. The Beef has officially closed down and is a rubbled mess. There was no space and Carmy just wanted to be there with you.

“Can I ask you something and you can tell me to fuck off?” Sydney asked while she watched Carmy plate the hamachi crudo. 

“Hm?”

“Do you…have feelings for Y/N?” she asked, looking at Carmy. He blushed, his ears turning red for being caught.

“Is it obvious?”

“To everyone but her,” she shrugged.

“Fuck, really? I thought I was being discreet,”

“Oh, you can stay here! You’re so good and so smart and so pretty,” Sydney gushed, mocking Carmen.

“Fuck off,” he laughs. “I…I do,”

“Yeah?”

“I just…just…she’s uh, so amazing, and like, I’ve been feeling these feelings since…since Copenhagen,” he mumbles, finishing the garnish with an oil. 

“Damn. You never made a move?” she asked, getting forks. She gives one to Carmen and they both taste the crudo. It was amazing. “That’s good,”

“It is. Good job, Syd,” Carmy replied.

“It was her who told me to try adding jalapeno slices,” Syd said. 

“You can’t do that,” Carmy warned her. Why did she want to get you two together so bad? “But I haven’t done anything. I mean, like, she was dating these guys and they’re so cool that-that it was never really my turn,” he remembered.

“But you’re the best chef in the world! That trumps that,” she encouraged. “None of them worked out?”

“No,” Carmy shook his head. “She’d always end things and I don’t want that for myself. She told me none of them worked out…wasn’t what she was, uh, looking for?”

“Oh,” Sydney nodded. “Well, if you’re feeling brave enough…”

“I haven’t been having…fun,” Carmy acknowledges. “With the Beef and the Bear until she got here, you know? Made me feel like I was young in Copenhagen again,”

“Another question. You can say fuck off if you want,” Sydney says and watches as Carmy bites a smile. “The last one. Is that why you asked her to stay? It’s just that I heard you the other day and…”

“Fuck off,” he laughs but Sydney noticed how everything about him conveyed everything that she needed to know. 

-

“This is a quenelle,” you told Marcus. You, Marcus, Carm, and Sydney were at your apartment. It was bigger than Carmy’s and your oven didn’t have jeans in them. “This took me at least a hundred tries,” you chuckled. “You just…away, back, and then hands…” You demonstrated, making a quenelle of a yuzu mousse.

“Damn, Chef. How’d you do that?” Marcus asked, trying it for himself. He failed, his quenelle being a little bit smaller than yours. 

“I had a friend named Luca. He didn’t let me out of the kitchen until I made a perfect one,” you recalled. “Carmy was there and he was laughing at me. He could do it in like three tries and I remember hating him,”

“You hate me?” he asked, leaning on the countertop. He didn’t like to hear about Luca. He only wanted you to talk about the two of you.

“Hey, Bear. Try this?” you asked, spooning him the raspberry curd. Carmy opens his mouth and you walk over, feeding him the pinkish liquid and then watching his face. “It goes with a black sesame shell. Do you like it?”

He notices your close proximity and flushes.

“Y-yeah,” he coughed, looking away. “Really good. Uh, very good,”

“No notes?” you asked and he swore he could kiss you right there because you were so beautiful.

“No notes,”

“Thanks, Chef,” you said. Sydney whistles as you help Marcus master his quenelle. Carmy looks at her and she teases him with a mockery of what he just said.

Carmy and Marcus left after cleaning up. You and Sydney decided to have a girl’s night. You were both sitting on the couch, mud masks on your faces when she turned to you fully.

“You know, he likes you right?”

“Who?” you asked, trying to fit a handful of chips.

“Carmy,” you heard and you choked on the bits of chips in your mouth. 

“Fuck!” you choked. “Sydney!” You were coughing while Sydney handed you a glass of vodka cranberry. You gulp it down. “You—can’t say shit like that!”

“What?” she laughed. “Look, I’m not kidding! Whenever he talks to you, his feet are pointed at you. I’ve read enough fucking books and body language shit to know that he’s interested,��

“I don’t think so,” you said. “That’s bullshit,”

“It’s not though,” she shrugged. “He asked you to stay for a reason,”

“He needs a pastry chef,” you shrugged. “Besides, he and I are friends, Sydney. I’ve been trying to get him jealous all my time in Copenhagen but he never…he never got the signal,”

“Oh,” Sydney nods. Two idiots in love. “Have you ever tried telling him?”

“Of course not! He’s always on about how he doesn’t have the energy to love or date. I tried the jealousy thing before but it never worked. Trust me, there’s nothing.”

-

Carmy arrives at your doorstep the next morning, bright and early. Sydney had already left, telling you something about stopping by at her dad’s apartment to get stuff. You were going to the Bear with him to help Sydney choose plates for the restaurant. 

“Good morning,” he greets. Two cups of take-out coffee in his hands. “I got us some coffee while we walk on the way,”

“Thank you,” You took the cup from his hands and clutched your jacket tighter. It was so, so, so cold. “Didn’t know it was going to be this chilly today,”

“You wanna wear my jacket?”

“You’ll be cold,”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he said, already taking off the jacket to the best of his one-handed ability. He was only wearing a gray sweater underneath. “I have something. See?” He doesn’t take no for an answer, taking your coffee and your bag from you so you could wear the colorful jacket.

“Thanks, Bear,” you said, smiling at him. The sight of you in his clothes does something to him and he couldn’t help except give you a slight nod before forging on in the chilly Chicago weather. 

You both entered the Beef giggling amongst yourselves when the usual buzzing stopped.

“Remember when Luca—“

You halted, finding the silence odd. You looked around to see everyone looking at you.

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Carmy asked, removing his hand from the small of your back. “Syd—“

“Love the sweater,” Richie teases. You look down and feel the warmth on your cheeks. 

“It was cold and he asked me to wear it,” you shrugged, leaving Carmen to deal with the staff out front. You were signalling Sydney for help but she only looked away. Traitor. “Um—“

“Y/N, if you could please help me out here,” Carmy called you. 

“Your boyfriend’s calling,”

“He’s not!” you huffed before walking over. “What is it?”

“I need you to time me, is that okay?” he asked. He nodded towards the stopwatch and you complied. “Thank you. I just need to check or like, map out the kitchen you know?”

“Of course,” you replied. 

“Do you need help getting on—“

“It’s okay it’s just an old thing,” you replied.

“Yo, cousin! If you’re done eye fucking, Sugar needs you.” Richie calls.

“We’re not eye-eye fucking!” you complained. “What the fuck?” You stood up from your corner before you could even work and accidentally looked down. If a man is interested his feet will—

You move to the side and Carmy follows. And then to the side again. 

“Y/N–“

“Stay there,” you asked, walking around him and him turning around. “Carm!”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders. He looks down to his shoes. “Are my shoes dirty?”

“No, it’s just—“ you tried again but Carm still followed. “Sydney told me about like, how when a guy is, uh,”

“Cousin!”

“Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it later okay? Once everyone’s out?” he asked, looking at you. “Can we do that?” His jacket felt softer on you than it ever did on him.

“Yea-yeah,” you nodded. “I’ll go help Sydney,”

The afternoon passed by and you were alone at The Bear. You waited for Carmen to finish up at the dining area like you promised. Your heart was beating so fast, maybe a thousand miles an hour. What Sydney said has been on your mind and what if it wasn’t true and you get embarrassed? Fuck, could you even handle that?

You sighed, burying your head between your hands when Carmy walks over to you. 

“What’s up?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod. “Can you stay there and just, I don’t know, be Carmy?” you asked, standing up to test the theory again. He just stands there, dumbfounded. You circle around him and he follows. You were looking on the ground. 

“Fuck, what the fuck?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with my shoes? I know they’re old and not—“

“Carmen, shh,”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders for the second time that day to steady you. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, I don’t—“

“What’s wrong?”

“Sydney told me that there’s like, this body language thing and like, uh, says that when a guy is interested his shoes are always pointing at you and well, she told me to look at yours,” you rambled, looking away in embarrassment. “Look, if this will be weird between the two of us, I mean—“

“Why would it matter?” he asked, hands inching closer to your neck. He was nervous but maybe this is the opening that he’s been waiting for for years. When you didn’t reply, he asked again. “Why would it matter?”

“Because…because I’ve been trying to make you jealous for years in Copenhagen and it never worked,” you whispered. You were embarrassed. It felt like you were in high school telling your crush that you liked him. “I know you don’t see me that way,” you replied, trying to look for the right words. Carmy lets you finish. He wanted to hear you. “And it’s fine. If this is stupid, let’s forget that this ever happened. Okay? God, I’m so fucking embarrassed right now,” 

“Hey, hey,” he cooes, his thumb tucked the hair back and then caressed your cheek. “Whoever said that I wasn’t jealous? I had to leave all the time because I was so fucking jealous. Those guys were cool. Don’t-don’t be embarrassed, okay? I like hearing that-you, uh, like me,”

“Carmy…don’t lie to me, okay? You don’t have to pretend—hm,” 

Carmy had just kissed you. Carmen Berzatto just kissed you. You were clutching on his shirt so tightly, afraid that if he lets go, he’ll be gone. But he doesn’t. He just trails his hands down to your back, touching skin to skin until you’re one. 

“I’ve been waiting years to do that,” Carmy rasps, breathing heavily. 

“Yeah? Then, do it again,” you whispered, smirking slightly at how he seemed to blush hard. Before you could tease him though, he tucks your hair back again, bringing your lips closer to his.

He did.

A/N: Thank you for giving my recent fics so much love and for being so motivating. Your kind words really make my day and I hope that you love this too. Don’t forget to reblog and comment! Thanks again!

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt

[aventurineswife]

“That may be your parent, but that is my spouse”

Tags: @aloudice, Jing Yuan x Reader, Established Relationship, Family, Parenting, Gender-Neutral terms, Gentle Parenting, Respect, Soft Moments, Authority, Protective Dad.

[Inspired by]

The soft golden hues of the setting sun filtered through the grand windows of the Luofu, casting a gentle glow over the spacious room. Jing Yuan, as usual, had positioned himself at the balcony, gazing out over the vastness of the Xianzhou, but his eyes weren’t as focused as they usually were. His attention had subtly shifted, and there was a trace of amusement in his gaze as he watched you and your child in the middle of a lighthearted confrontation.

"Don't you dare try to sneak out again, little one." you said firmly, your voice calm but with an undeniable authority that only a parent could master. You stood with your arms crossed, watching as your child huffed in defiance.

"But I wanted to go to the garden!" the child protested, their small face scrunching up in frustration. "It's boring here!"

"You can go to the garden after finishing your lessons. Now, come on, let’s be reasonable."

Jing Yuan smiled faintly, his sharp eyes flicking to the scene in front of him as he leaned against the railing. From his vantage point, he could see the way your patience was slowly running thin. But it was clear you weren't losing your cool. You never did.

However, his smile faded as he saw the little one’s growing agitation. Their defiance was turning into something more—something less playful. With a sudden outburst, the child scowled, pointing a finger at you in irritation.

"I hate you! You’re so mean!" they shouted, their tiny fist shaking.

Before you could respond, your child made an impulsive move. In a burst of anger, they swung their arm toward you, trying to smack your arm in protest. It was a childish action—undoubtedly a sign of frustration—but the intent, even from such a young one, still struck a nerve. You blinked, surprised at the sudden aggression, but before you could react, a low voice interrupted the tense moment.

"That may be your parent, but that is my spouse. And you will not be disrespecting them like that."

Jing Yuan’s voice rang out, clear and firm, cutting through the tense air. His tone was not one of anger but of authority—an unwavering reminder of the respect that was due to you, no matter how young or headstrong the child might be.

The child froze, the smack they had intended to deliver now hanging awkwardly in the air. Jing Yuan stepped forward with the effortless grace that came from centuries of experience. His tall figure loomed with quiet command, his gaze soft yet piercing as he knelt down to meet their eyes.

"You know better than that, don’t you?" he asked, his tone still gentle, though the weight of it carried deep, fatherly disappointment. "Respect is something that should come naturally, not just when it’s convenient. Now apologize."

The child, clearly overwhelmed by the sudden shift in the atmosphere, lowered their head, guilt washing over their face. "Sorry, Mom/Dad… I didn’t mean it…" they mumbled, eyes downcast.

Jing Yuan nodded, his expression softening. He reached out, placing a hand gently on your shoulder in a rare display of affection, the gesture tender as if to reassure you. You met his gaze, the quiet understanding between you both palpable in the moment.

"Don’t worry," Jing Yuan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "I’ll handle this. You don’t need to bear the brunt of their frustration."

You gave a soft smile, nodding in appreciation. "Thank you, Jing Yuan," you replied, your heart swelling with affection for both him and the little one. "But you know, they’re just learning."

Jing Yuan chuckled softly, a warm sound that lingered in the room. "Yes, they are. But that doesn't mean we let them forget their manners."

With a final look at your child, who was now quietly contemplating their actions, Jing Yuan stood up straight and turned his attention back to you, the occasional glimmer of weariness in his golden eyes. Despite the aura of wisdom and authority he wore like a second skin, you could still see the parent beneath it all—a person who was willing to move mountains to protect their family.

And with that, everything felt in its proper place.

[Aventurine ver]

[moonlit-imagines]

Preferences: Being an Avenger and an ex-Widow

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anon 🥀: “hcs for how avengers would react to reader being an ex widow like natasha”

when you defected from the red room, you rejected SHIELD

“why trade one corrupt organization for another?” -you (not aware shield was ACTUALLY corrupted by hydra)

you freelanced for a bit, avoiding recruitment at all turns and trying to keep control of your life

but nick fury wouldn’t let you drop from his radar

“y/n, meet natasha romanoff” -fury

“i know you…” -you

“red room, yes” -nat

“what are you two doing here?” -you

“trying to recruit you, actually” -nat

“like i told your boss a dozen times, i want no part in working for SHIELD, the notion bores me” -you

“well, what if i told you a new position opened up?” -fury, watching your brow raise “im assembling a team, one with the most skilled players in the game”

“spies?” -you

“not quite” -nat, smirking

thus started your induction into the avengers

and nat became probably your best friend

“i’ve never met another widow defector, it’s…nice” -you

“we killed him, you know…” -nat, hesitating “dreykov. barton and i got him”

it was the best news you’d gotten in a while

the rest of the avengers were a bit ragtag compared to the soldiers they recruited

the billionaire in a suit, scientist with anger issues, the asgardian god

then 3 assassins and a soldier from world war ii

but you all made nice eventually, especially after fighting side by side

being with the avengers instead of a lonely assassin gave you back some of that humanity you lost over the years

“y/n, want to go on a run?” -steve

“with you? what’s the point?” -you

“i’ll slow down for you” -steve

routine runs became a stress reliever for you

you traded war stories with nat and clint on late nights when you couldn’t sleep

and tony made you his “guinea pig” when it came to testing new technologies

“i didn’t mean it in a derogatory way! i know where you come from, bad choice of words. would you though? it’s a pretty cool gun…wouldn’t want it to go to waste…” -tony

and bruce, sweet bruce, bruce recluse….

i just wanted to say that actually

bruce and you didn’t have all that much in common but sometimes he’d sit with you and keep you company, maybe offer you some food

you’d have really meaningful conversations with the avengers, too

“so, what deterred you from joining SHIELD?” -steve

“a lifetime of being controlled by people with their own agendas and no regard for their soldiers’ lives” -you “sound familiar?”

“all too familiar” -steve

“then you understand that i was not going to work for the united states government, it was hard enough joining the avengers” -you

okay, okay. you might be wondering “wheres all the action scenes?” fine here they are

you and nat knew some pretty outdated moves pretty well. after all, you were taught the same

it was easy to fight with her, it was almost like you were telepathically communicating your next moves

“are we sure the red room didn’t give them some kind of mind reading chip?” -tony “hey, that should be my next project”

“absolutely not” -steve

clint got jealous of you and nat because the bond they had was similar to yours, but you suggested a group effort with him

so you and nat taught him some red room lessons (minus the horrendous abuse)

thor enjoyed your ruthlessness

“y/n, you never cease to amuse me!” -thor

“they just knocked a man out, thor” -clint

“yes! hilarious” -thor

“you don’t laugh when stark does it” -steve

“stark? well, he’s not too funny” -thor

“hey! im funny…” -tony

honestly getting really close with the team

and eventually welcoming wanda and vision

assuring wanda that coming from a less-than-friendly background didn’t make her any less than the avengers

“you know, i was pretty bad before i joined up. you’ll fit right in!” -you

the avengers went through a lot of ups and downs

and by the time they’d split, you already left

“i’m sorry, guys. i’m just not cut out for this line of work.” -you

“what do you mean?” -tony

“you know what i mean. i cant be an avenger anymore. i cant be idolized and i cant be associated with whatever mess is brewing here” -you

you wanted to go solo again, working for the group was never what you really wanted

it was nice for a while

and you watched as the drama between steve and tony unfolded, feeling grateful you didn’t have to pick a side

*pressing ignore on your phone for the fiftieth time*

freelance life just suited you better

until you found the red room was still operating

and for once you picked up the phone

“hey nat. are we freeing these widows or what?”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[ittsybittsybunny]

ATLA Live Action Series Review:

The Good

Aesthetically this show felt right. Sure sometimes the outfits didn't quite feel lived in, but I always felt like I was watching a fantasy world with decent effects and interesting design. Also, I really enjoyed the sets!

Bending: Yes some of the fights feel very quick, but the bending looks cool. It is certainly better than 10 benders lifting one big rock. I can honestly say the opening bending fight scene gave me so much hope for this show.

Kyoshi Warriors: I loved seeing them in live action, and I thought Suki's performance was great!

Omashu: I think the mashup of the mechanist made sense since that is an important character overall and I would hate to see him cut. However, both Jet & the secret tunnels felt sloppily thrown in.

Northern Water Tribe: I really loved the way it looked, and appreciated the two episodes we spent here. I think Yue gained more agency in this interpretation, and why shouldn't the moon spirit be a waterbender. Also, episode seven felt the most in tune with the original show's spirit.

Zuko: I think he was one of the most fleshed-out and best parts of the show! Dallas Liu really captured Zuko's spirit, and the scene between him and Aang in episode 6 was wonderful!

Soundtrack: Hearing the original soundtrack bits is always great, and when I first heard the ending music I was so excited.

Is the show perfect, no - but I wouldn't mind a season 2.

The Bad

Pacing: Turning 20 episodes into 8 was bound to lead to some cuts...but oftentimes times things felt too quick or disjointed. I think there were editing problems contributing to this for sure, but sometimes things skipped around too much without a clear purpose as to why. Also, why bring in plots from later seasons when you barely have enough time already?

Writing: This show definitely suffered from exposition dumping, though it did get better as time went on. I think the biggest example of this is actually opening in the past rather than the present. We do not get to learn along with Aang that the world has changed, instead, we get to learn that 100 years have passed....which doesn't hold the same tension or worldbuilding.

Clunky Dialogue: Along with exposition, clunky dialogue is another example of bad writing. I think sometimes I felt like the acting was kind of meh in the beginning, but then over time I began to realize it had far more to do with the lines characters were trying to deliver. The actors themselves are not bad, just cursed with awkward writing and lines that feel out of touch with the setting they're in.

Main Trio: I don't entirely know that I believe Katara, Sokka, and Aang are friends as opposed to 3 people stuck together to save the world. Aang feels a little too somber for a young kid running away from his responsibilities, Sokka is protective, but not exactly the heart of the team, and Katara is sort of just there until the last two episodes. Where is her struggle, her desire to learn so strong she steals from pirates? Also, while Gordon Cormier did a great job, Aang does zero waterbending on his own, is overly serious, and tells Katara not to fight. Where is his desperation to protect his friends? It feels like they all lost emotional depth.

Tension: Bringing Ozai, Azula, and Zhao out in the beginning immediately causes us to lose the realization there is an even bigger bad. Part of why Ozai is so terrifying is he is a primarily silent villain until the third season when we finally see the face of the "big bad evil guy" behind it all. Yes, they add to Zuko's backstory, but again, they are revealing the villains too early. Azula is the antagonist of season 2 and one of my favorite characters, so I hope they do more with her in the future. Finally, Zhao is supposed to be an example of the uncontrollable nature of fire unrestrained, instead, he comes off as vaguely threatening with the supposed true power being Azula.

Characterization: While all characters are bound to lose something in a shorter show, it still felt like certain characters were more mutilated than others. I am sure there are 100 different opinions on who, but I think the biggest victim was Katara.

Katara: Katara manages to go from a complete novice to a bending master in what feels like a matter of days. The journey feels short, and that makes the results feel largely unearned. Katara is one of the strongest personalities in the show, determined, kind, and fiery. In many ways, she is the unpredictability of water - equally dangerous as it is necessary to live. She is the child of a war who lost her mother, forced to grow up too soon, and even raised her older brother. Yes, Katara often gets stereotyped as the mom friend, but overall she feels underutilized in this show. We really don't see enough of her journey until the very end.

Iroh: Iroh was always comedic but most importantly wise. Even when Zuko is trying to give himself advice, he mimics Iroh. Instead, he seems to be used more as comedic relief without the underlying experience. He just doesn't feel right. Also, he kills Zhao instead of Zhao getting himself killed - which is less about Iroh and more about the writing than anything.

Ozai is weirdly a little too nice. Yes, he burned Zuko and pits his kids against each other, but he feels toned down in a show claiming to be more mature than the original cartoon.

Azula is perhaps more realistically worried about losing her status as the golden child, but she is also missing the cruelty she and her father share. I understand worrying about making your character cartoonishly evil, but the Fire Nation is currently a deeply nationalistic empire trying to control the world. Where is the deep-seated belief that they are better than other people, not just trying to bring balance to the world? There is a line between creating complexity and toning down the very real evil inherent in this plan.

Roku: I can only say what the fuck was that. He was barely there, and not the serious master to Aang's youthful exuberance.

The Ugly

Show, Don't Tell: The show's single biggest issue seems to be speeding through story parts by simply stating things. Instead of allowing the audience to discover, trusting that we are smart enough to understand, let's just blatantly say things like Zuko is the only reason the 41st division is alive to their faces. Even though in the context of the story Ozai literally already said that.... it's the division, the division for Zuko, Zuko's division.

Thematic Misunderstandings: I think this show makes several minor changes with major implications, such as airbenders actively fighting the firebenders, when airbenders are known for their pacifist nature and the lie of an Airbender fighting force is actively propaganda. Similarly, Aang very quickly accepts his role as the avatar and doesn't even run away in the beginning. Without this conflict between his desire to be a carefree child and the fact that the world needs him - the show loses a key aspect of Aang's character. Also, the obsession with downplaying the avatar state as something dangerous feels like a disservice to the tradition, connection, and strength of the avatar, which can be permanently destroyed as the trade-off for that kind of power. It's dangerous for the balance of the entire world, not just because it's powerful!

The Agni Kai: Zuko's fight against his father is one of the defining moments of Ozai's cruelty, not just because he is willing to fight his child, but because Zuko tried to do everything right. Zuko shows deference to his father, apologizes, and most importantly refuses to fight! The determination not to upset his father and still be grievously injured and banished is a hugely important theme for the fire nation and Zuko's life as a whole. He tries to do everything he is supposed to and only regains his father's acceptance after he "kills" Aang. Zuko's struggle between moral vs. social right and wrong in contrast to his family is hugely important to his character.

-----

TLDR: ATLA was a fantastical animated television show that was never afraid to show character development and flaws. When you turn 20 episodes into 8, you are bound to lose something. You hollowed out the middle, leaving the shell of important moments and events without ever wondering if all the times in between formed the true spirit of the show.

Rating: 6.5/10 It's perfectly fine and worth a watch. Not a disaster, but certainly falls flat of the original.

[voikiraz]

Lover ; heeseung 희승 .

Lovers . bf!heeseung x fem!reader w. umm nothing rlly, this is just so cute >○< step ? #1141 M.recordings ! [ I'm brining this back cus I'm in love w it and it's heyday so ]

Syn. Lover heeseung and actions he does that makes you fold every time

ꕤ you always knew, heeseung has a photo of you both in his wallet but everytime you see it, you get giddy and it's like oh my god I love him.

You both were in the mall buying something and he ran into a friend from his school so he left you his wallet to pay for the stuff while they catch up.

You opened his wallet, getting out the credit card when you saw the Pic.

It was a Polaroid you took from your first anniversary, which also happened to be your birthday. The boy decided that confessing on your birthday is cool.

In the Polaroid, you were hugging his side and planting a little kiss on his cheek, both your faces covered in pink and purple whipped cream, and a big smile on hee's' face, making the whole picture light up.

You almost forgot why you opened the wallet but thank god you're still somewhat sane.

You handed the card to the cashier while feeling your face heat up from the thoughts.

ꕤ you two decided to live together a while back and he has to put up posters with you like every two months, boy is never satisfied with them he changes them a lot, and because it's one of your favourite activities to do too, you chose the theme and placements, while he puts them up.

It was one of those days where you two decided to do a room makeover - you were really just going to change the posters and clean the place though - you already cleaned the whole place and it was time for posters.

You knew it was going to be chaotic.

He was standing on a chair holding a big paper and trying to put it the right way.

"no heeseung the other left" you said with a sigh while trying to tell him how to put it, making a lot of gestures with your hand.

"How are you trying to tell me how to put it up while you don't even know the directions?" he stood there looking like a robot, while having a blank expression on his face.

"I know directions hee" you gave him the same blank expression, anybody watching this scene unfold would probably think that this is a fight unfolding but oh it was nowhere near that.

He started going about how you don't know directions and how you said 'go to the left' even though you meant 'right', and while all of that was happening, the other poster was falling down, by reflex hee tried to get it.

"oh my god heeseung look out" you exclaimed in horror, trying to tell the boy that he's about to fall, though he didn't.

He just stood there, eyes widened and his hand on his chest while he stared at the ground, trying to process this.

In all honesty, you were just laughing, it was hilarious in your opinion.

"you're laughing?" he said, looking so offended "I could've died" you laughed more

"Okay drama queen, next time I'll catch you like in those romance movies" you said, then you gestured for him to put up both posters again.

And the bickering never stopped.

ꕤ no matter what time it is heeseung always has to take you on a motorcycle ride, people talk about how cool night rides are, but have you ever been on a motorcycle ride AT MIDNIGHT? If you didn't I'm about to walk you through how it feels like.

It was night and you two were sitting mindlessly, staring at your phones, sleepiness was nowhere to be seen.

Then you saw a light bulb go on above Heeseung's head.

"what are you thinking?" you asked in confusion, finding him quite suspicious.

"wanna go on a motorcycle ride?" he asked with a little smile on his face, looking at you with anticipation.

You looked at your phone, checking the time, the phone displayed the time ‘01:17’ then you looked at him with a questioning gaze.

“Right now? It's past midnight” you asked

“Yes yes come on, get up”he said, getting up himself to pull you with him, he took your hand and made you stand up.

"don't blame me if you go broke because of the amount of money you spend on gas" you joked, making him let out a little chuckle along with a low 'yeah yeah I won't'

By the time you were out, he was already on the motorcycle, and you were putting on the purple helmet; his favourite colour, when you were set, you took place on the vehicle behind him.

He took out his airpods and connected them to his phone, playing your shared Playlist and giving you one of the airpods.

You held onto him tightly, as he stepped on the gas, making air hit both your faces, hair flying to the back, making this feel amazing, with the night stars shining above you.

Where were you going? You don't know, probably taking a city tour like every other night.

You didn't care if it was late, you were down to be risky and go on a trip with him even though he was driving too fast.

ꕤ he always has this habit of playing with your hair until you sleep, it was you who once told him that it relaxes you when someone plays with your hair and ever since then he never stopped doing it. You just finished studying after a very long day, and he was watching stuff on his phone, half laying on the bed when you suddenly threw yourself on the bed with a huff coming out of your mouth, he was just looking at you with confusion and wide eyes.

"I'm tired" you said, letting out another huff.

And all he did was chuckle, as soon as you heard the muffled laughs from next to you, you lifted your head up looking at him with a questioning gaze.

"Here, come lay on my chest" he said, moving a little to give you the space you need as he stretches his arm, preparing it to be your personal pillow.

You just replied with a pout as you adjust yourself to lay on his chest, in no time you feel his hands softly playing with your hair as he hums a little lullaby, he keeps doing that while still scrolling on his phone with one hand, the other holding you close to him so gently like you were the most fragile thing that he has to protect.

Soon after you were sleeping in his arms, your pretty figure looking so peaceful that he just fell in love over again.

He shuts his phone after taking a cute picture of you then he sleeps next to you, hugging your figure tighter. Afraid of letting go.

© voikiraz 2O24