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abysswalkerastraea1 · 3 months ago

Text

Concurrent Resurgence

A staggering impossibility had occurred on the night of your death. And now, reborn and unhinged; bound to that creature they call the Miles County Clown, you'd witness first-hand just how far your depravity could go.

17k words

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Art is so dominant I needed an outlet to express this

A staggering impossibility had occurred on the night of your death. Just like any regular woman, you screamed and cried and ran from the miles county killer, in a state of frenzy and terror up until the very end.

Your life hung on the precipice as you lay upon the ground, torn open from the midsection and gasping on wet breaths, watching that demonic clown hunker down low, leaning over your friend Vicky as he devoured her face.

You remembered the world becoming dimmer and dimmer, wondering when you'd be devoured next, hoping to God you'd die first so that you didn't have to feel the excruciating pain Vicky had.

Your wish had been granted mercifully, the sound of police sirens and shouting fading out as you heard the final cacophony of a gunshot, and then your world turned black.

Lying as a bloodied corpse in the morgue, you didn't expect to open yours eyes ever again, life beating steadily throughout you even as something dark and heavy like lead anchored you boundlessly to miles county.

You came to the conclusion that you and Art miraculously died at the same time, yours from your injuries while his was from a gunshot to the head. You both breathed your last breath, and now you were both alive.

It was as though his dying soul had latched onto your corpse, a shard of it replenishing what should have been dead and burdening you with rot, decay and evil.

Art had tried to kill you on many occasions since then. He was pleasantly surprised at seeing you whole again, grinning and waving jovially, eager to murder you all over again, only..

You couldn't die, it was as though you were both the oxygen and the blood that keeps one another alive; if one dies, so does the other.

It took some back and forth, cat and mouse antics to learn this. He'd try and catch you, gripping you by the hair with a mallet in the other hand, bringing it down in a devastating blow. You think he realised something had changed when you caught his wrist with an incredible strength you never used to possess and forced his head through a break wall.

Art had given you something, and he cursed you because he knew he could never get it back.

You were two halves of the same coin, polar opposites and yet vastly similar now. Humanity remained within you, somewhere, but your emotions became dim, your morals deathly low, and evil began festering.

You became violent. Explosive, uncharacteristically wrathful. It didn't feel wrong, either. It felt good, and the effort it took not to absolutely maim someone was immeasurable.

Still, humanity lingered in certain things you did, and especially the way you processed emotions, even if they were as muddled as dirty water.

You and Arts lives were intertwined now, and although he had eventually gotten over the fact that he couldn't kill you, you saw him more often than you liked, your meetings often tedious and full of hate.

For the most part, him seeing you often resulted in the biggest, most dramatic eye roll you had ever witnessed, his middle finger sticking right up at you. He didn't find you fun anymore; you were as immortal as him, and that meant you were untouchable, as was he.

You don't know if it was coincidence or some sort of fucked up connection that made you cross paths so often. It made sense, considering a part of him lived within you.

And just like always, Art was there to make everything worse.

For the longest time you tried avidly to enter civilisation again, whether that be from trying to get a decent job, to going to parties and attempting to make friends, or even just simple things like getting your hair done and a manicure.

Half of you wanted your humanity to be in complete control again, enjoying the freedom of joy and life. The other half began condemning regular humans, wanting to be forcefully ostracised from society and it's confinement.

Parties didn't help. On your list of things that did help, partying was the absolute rock bottom. Your alcohol tolerance was still horrifically low, and your ire and hate for the people around you jumped tenfold.

So, all that would really happen is you'd try as politely as possible to make friends at a party, get rejected, and savagely smash their heads into nearby picture frames. Or whatever happened to decorate the wall.

You'd then drink, alone, and become devastatingly drunk. And of course each and every time, Art would find a spare minute or two to observe you once you made your horrible walk of shame home, appearing from the darkness just to point and laugh at you and buckle over.

With your newfound strength and wrath, this often led to fights with you being the instigator.

Bottle in hand, you smashed it into the clowns face viciously, watching his expression turn to one of dramatic shock as he fell backwards from the force, your drunk self falling with him.

You were so intoxicated that once you hit his body you could hardly stand back up. Head laid against his shoulder awkwardly, you groaned and tried to ground yourself with a hand against his chest, collapsing with your feeble attempts.

You winced as your face made contact with the floor all of a sudden, Art having pushed you off roughly with a grimace.

Art knew he couldn't kill you, but he could break your ribs for good measure, grinning at the sickening crack of his boot ramming into your side. It caused you to vomit and go unconscious.

You woke up the next day in broad daylight, laying in the piss stained alleyway littered with rats. Chunks of your vomit and dirt spelling out 'Whore' across your forehead.

Since then, you and Art had toned down your rivalry somewhat, no longer fighting like cat and dog every other night, viciously finding ways to carve each other up.

You avoided each other for the most part. On occasion Art would seek you out just to be an asshole, slicing your cheek with a scalpel just after you'd finished doing your makeup, which infuriated you. Or after having your hair freshly done, he'd smear questionable substances all over it.

You had gotten so angry at that, that you'd went to his rotten workplace and tore half of it down before he managed to stop you.

Art - having realised the repercussions of having an enemy that he could not kill, that would be around with him forever and that would ruin his artisan-level work - certainly toned down his pestering.

You didn't see sight of him for a month after that. Let the asshole cry and lick his wounds, you had thought joyfully.

And now, he breaks into your home like it was his own, eating from your fridge and using your shower. You detested it at the beginning, throwing fully fledged tantrums at the fact that no matter what, you could not kill him. And hurting him too badly would in turn hurt you.

It was something you came to accept. After almost a year of fighting and stubbornness, you both began to yield, realising a stalemate when you saw one.

Art no longer smeared literal shit in your hair and you no longer broke his weapons. Seemed fair.

On the two year mark, Art frequented your home even more. Probably because it had everything he needed, and it had gotten to the point that you didn't even bat an eye at him. You'd still fight, where he'd end up laughing and mocking you and you'd end up furiously screaming at him, but it never really escalated from there.

Physical confrontation did happen rarely, but nothing..drastic. That shard of him within you had made you struggle to control your anger even after two years.

And then other times you sat silently on your settee, blanket drawn up to your chin as you watched a horror film alone. Just like every night, Art would come in and ignore you, but sometimes he'd be curious as to what you were doing, and flop down beside you far too casually.

You'd spare him a neutral glance, carelessly throwing the end of your large blanket at him. He'd excitedly accept it. He viewed it as one of your ritualistic customs when watching something you deemed as scary. Him accepting the blanket meant he was curious to know just what this 'terrifying' movie was about.

"Okay so, they can't find the key to unchain themselves to escape, so that guy has to saw his leg off.", you elaborated quickly, watching the scene unfold.

It wasn't your favourite film but it was on TV at the moment. Art folded his arms, watching patiently as the story proceeded. Your attention eventually faltered as a text message came through.

You responded promptly before putting your phone down. Then, another came through, and another, and you'd giggle to yourself quietly, typing. Art lolled his head back and to the side, watchful. You never really used that device anymore, he wondered what it was that gripped you so much.

He didn't have to wonder much longer as he ripped your phone from your hands and darted up, standing to his full height as he swiftly perused the text messages.

You jumped up after him, reaching a hand up to grab at him only for him to lift the phone above his head, gaze staring up to read them.

"Give me my phone now! I swear to God Art I'll fucking--", the rest of your complaining fell on deaf ears. Art rolled his eyes, all you ever did was pull tantrums and shout. And you never shut up, prattling on about one thing or another, screaming profanities and empty threats that Art didn't even deign to laugh at anymore, that's how common they were.

Eyes scanning the messages, a grin began to grow on his face, until full fledged laughter erupted silently. You seethed at him, clawing at his hands to try and grab it. Art eventually gave in, rolling his eyes at your continued threats, putting a hand against your shoulder and roughly shoving you away, phone thrown into your lap as you fell against the settee.

Before he left, Art turned back with his horn held between his legs obscenely, stroking it with a surprised face, eyebrows high and lips forming an 'o' shape.

You glared at him, but couldn't deny the way your cheeks reddened as his stroking got faster and his eyes rolled back in mock euphoria. You folded your arms and shrugged; you had nothing to say to that. Yes you were sexting some random guy and yes you wanted some dick.

Art tipped his hat with a dead expression, his mimicry representing a gentlemanly 'farewell and adieu', and his expression reading 'desperate whore'.

Before he finally departed, Art held up a scissors in one hand and a pliers in the other. He snipped them sassily, threateningly, grinning all the while.

"Yeah, well, if he's shit you're more than welcome to use them on him." You assured, and you meant it too. This guy seemed a little odd anyway, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Art seemed pleasantly happy with that, giving you a thumbs up with his back turned as he left the house in his Santa getup.

It was probably because you were overly horny, but...

No, you shook your head. Now is not the time to think of him like that. Honestly, you were getting more depraved every week.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You don't know what you were expecting, but it was.. anticlimactic.

You had become so sinful since your rebirth, average sex no longer doing it for you. The first guy was okay, an asshole, but okay. You tried so hard to be pleasant and normal but frustration and an unhinged desire coursed through you desperately.

It wasn't as though his dick wasn't to your liking, he was just so average and fucking human that you didn't even manage to get to the part that you desperately craved, your disgust evident.

Anyway, he seemed to think you had a bad attitude - you did - which led to arguing. You were not backing down and neither was he.

Raised voices turned into insults, both of you storming out of your bedroom and down the stairs as you reigned your anger in and told him to get out.

You could see Art from the front door, he must've came home at some point, focus taken from the TV as he watched you both scream at each other, boots propped up on your fucking coffee table which you told him not to do so many times-

And then your cheek was turning as this assholes hand met the side of your face.

You could feel your teeth clenching. Your face remained stoic, eyes burning with fury. You could see Art chuckling cruelly in the background, shoulders moving silently, incredibly invested in how this is going to play out.

It was only then did the asshole seem to notice a flash of black and white in the background, turning with an ugly scowl to the clown who now suddenly stood with a large smile, hands clenching and unclenching in anticipation.

He faltered, mild confusion and anger still evident in his scowl. An angry finger pointed in the clowns direction. "Who the fuck is that? You got a queue lining up after me, honey?" He spat the vile words at you, acidic and full of disgust.

You didn't have a chance to respond, lips quirking in mild amusement and eyes smouldered like a fiery, dark pit. The man scoffed, rolling his eyes at the demonic clown, before gazing back down at you with his lips snarling enough to bare his teeth.

"I knew there was something off about you, you fucking slut. Too proud to put out and, let's be honest," the man gave you a slow, disgusting once over, "not much to look at."

Something in you snapped, but all that came out was a gentle, breathy laugh, your eyes shining and dancing with a peculiar emotion. You wonder what it reflected. Judging by the way Art tilted his head from afar, assessing, before beginning to chuckle to himself even more, it must've been something ominous.

"What the fuck are you laughing at, asshole? Want me to come over there and give you something to really laugh at?!" The man roared at Art from across the room, utterly furious, fists clenched until the knuckles turned white.

Art began pointing and laughing now, wide eyed and crazed as he nodded vigorously as though to say 'please do!'

Before he could, you gripped his arm gently; your expression depicted a mocking sense of disappointment. "I've ruined your night, and wasted all of your precious time." You huffed, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat for him, indignant at yourself. "And like you said, I'm really not looking my best, am I? I apologize.", you smiled sweetly up at him, eyes squinted almost cutely.

The man paused at your admittance, evidently not used to any woman ever agreeing with him. He relaxed somewhat, nodding to himself as though to say yes, you are the problem, not him.

Arts dark eyes bored into your form, entranced, unsmiling, deadly.

"I'll make it up to you."

Your smile spread eerily wide, slow and deliberate and full of glee, frozen on your face. There was something ominous about you, mouth spread so far it looked as though you were doing a poor imitation of how a human should smile. It was too wide, too happy, unnatural. Slowly, you made your way to the kitchen.

The man appeared shocked and faltered, squinting at you as though to decipher what's going on. It felt like his eyes deceived him, searching desperately. Did he hear wrong? Did he miss something? Turning back towards the clown for some semblance of an answer, he seemed to have vanished. There was no trace of him ever being there, and there was no sound.

All was too silent, too calm, and it made his nerves stand on end, unsure, horrifically uncertain about everything he had just witnessed. He needed to leave.

The man tensed, back stepping at the sudden eeriness. It was so quiet, in fact, that part of his mind doubted that he had ever spoken to someone in the first place. Shaking his head, he turned to leave. There had to be a logical explanation for all of this. Without another thought, he turned and made his way to the front door.

If not that, then the knife embedded in his back surely did.

His keys suddenly dropped to the floor from his hand. The sound was loud, and would probably shock anyone out of a daydream.

Though, a second later, the horrific cry that surely tore his vocal chords was loud enough to make it evidently clear that this was all very real.

The life that had been temporarily drained from the house now sprung to life viciously, all at once.

Gripping a fistful of his hair, you dragged him roughly through your living room, kicking him so hard in the chest he convulsed, air struggling to enter his wheezing lungs. Blood covered his chin, eyes wide and unable to comprehend these sudden events; Questions swirled in his horrified orbs.

Lips curling in disgust, you jumped on top of him and began violently beating him. The man struggled hard, trying to buck you off of him and attack you back but to no avail. You were as immovable as a wall, face stoic and nonchalant as the man flailed back and forth, desperate to escape.

His eyes were wide, terrified, blood pouring down his face. In a flash, you held his fist tightly, catching it before it could make contact with you. You began to chuckle, mirth dancing in your irises, squeezing so hard you could feel the bone snapping.

It wasn't normal, this level of power, but it felt so beautifully natural to you, something dark and radiantly evil crying out in glory at your actions, delightfully satisfied.

He roared in pain, tears involuntarily streaming down his face, hand mangled and deranged looking as he cradled it to his chest. He shuddered violently, eyes wild in horror. "What the fuck are you?!"

"Me?", you thought aloud softly, bloody hand to your chin contemplatively as you stared up at Art, who was so suddenly by your side that it made the man flinch and choke on his breath in fright.

"I'm a..slut, right? That's the word you used?" You looked at the man for confirmation, who shook his head swiftly in regret, face contorting miserably as he realized his grave error. He began to sob.

You gazed up at Art, who was clenching his hands rhythmically again, laughter shaking his shoulders. There was more than satisfaction at watching this asshole get beaten; almost a hidden connection of evil sparking between you both. He was corrupting you, but you yourself made these choices. You, avidly, enjoyed this outcome.

"Is that right, Art? He said slut, didn't he?", you hummed in thought, scratching your head for an answer. Your crimson hands dyed your hair a terrifying red as you curled a lock thoughtfully between your fingers.

Art nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off the way your blue orbs became corrupted, like sediment contaminating a clear pool. They shined as black as his now.

"It's funny," you began with a dreamy sigh, eyelashes fluttering back down at the miserable sight below you. The whites of your eyes appeared disturbingly bloodshot. "For being such a slut, I haven't managed to get a good look at you yet. We didn't get too far earlier, did we?"

The man below you was hyper ventilating now, shaking his head furiously, knowing and fearing where this was going. His mangled hand joined the other in what looked like to be a feeble prayer, chest rising and falling rapidly. "I-Im sorry! Youre not a slut, you're--youre stunning and I'm so, so fucking sorry--"

Your act dropped then, eyes dead and void. A sense of dread hung heavy in the air for this man; There was no way out, and no amount of pleading would change that. You lifted your knife carelessly in the air, twirling the weapon hauntingly. The look the man gave you would stay in your memory for a while, it was full of pure, unadulterated terror.

You brought the knife down, slicing in his groin. The man screamed so loud you thought his vocal chords had torn. Blood pooled around you, soaked you, bathed you in a pretty crimson to match your nails.

Art was a hysterical mess, hunched over and pointing and laughing, miming a condescending, fake sobbing at the pathetic man. He held a sinister mirth in his eyes, absolutely buckled.

Grotesquely, you dug your hands into the gaping wound you had made in the man's genitals, rummaging around with the sounds of squelching blood permeating the air. Finding what you were looking for, you held it up high between your finger and thumb, expression holding that all too familiar disappointment.

Your lips quirked, "Not such a big man now, are you?"

Art was rife with laughter and joyfulness, and before you knew it, your giggling turned into cackling, blood smeared all over yourself as you held your stomach, tears falling down your cheeks in sick, dark satisfaction.

You hadn't laughed this hard in years, hadn't felt this liberated and happy in a while. Everytime you calmed down, giggles becoming quiet, Art would hold up the castrated organ absurdly, wiggling it like an ugly worm with a look of surprise on his face, eyebrows high and mouth open, and you'd be on the floor cackling madly once again.

It must've been a grotesque sight, you on your knees upon the floor, blood sinking so deeply into your clothes you wondered if it would come out, wiping tears of laughter away only to smudge deep streaks of red across your cheeks. You looked like an animal, rabid and violent.

Art gazed down at your crazed form with a smirk of satisfaction, chaos swirling in his eyes. It was as though he had been waiting for that part of him to corrupt you, for your anger to explode, for your unhinged desires to manifest.

After some time, everything fell peacefully quiet. It was comfortable, and dare you say amicable. Your breathing was the only sound in the room, slowing down as you gazed down at the way your feet were absolutely soaked red.

Leaning back on your hands, you caught sight of the demonic clown with his arms folded, leaning against the wall. He seemed serene, no longer smiling but definitely not frowning either. His black eyes perused the coating of blood on the floor, making their way up to study you deliberately.

His stare was intense, and you couldn't stop your cheeks from lifting upwards into a smile. Pushing yourself to a stand, you grimaced at the mutilated body on the floor and shivered in disgust.

You nudged at the corpse with your foot, cringing. "Maybe mortal men just aren't for me, anymore. "Though," you began as an afterthought, "even if I had a boyfriend, you'd probably kill him anyway." You sighed, fully acknowledging this.

You weren't even aggravated by that fact anymore. It would've really angered you once, but what's the point? You and Art seemed bound together forever, by the looks of it. You couldn't imagine him sitting idly with another person in the house. But then again, neither would you.

Art deliberated, gazing upwards in brief thought, before shrugging too. Yeah, probably. Just to get under your skin, mostly. And maybe an inkling of something else. He finally nodded, eyes staring down at you from his nose, like an old librarian with their glasses on the end of their nose. Snobbish. He had a reputation to up hold, you know. His nonchalant expression read 'well, you're not wrong.'

You scoffed, though offered a small smile nonetheless. He was amusing. For a silent clown, he was awfully verbal with his theatrical ways.

But now you began to think solemnly; What you just did - the killing, the maiming, the castrating - was vile. It was unforgivable, sickening. Your human half knows this, and something is conflicted within you. It felt like two halves of yourself were at war.

Even still, you felt joy. And you know that's wrong, and it's absolutely maniacal. But what's even more astounding is right here, on a late Saturday evening, you and that stupid clown stood with an air of tranquillity and comfort, together. If this was two years ago, you'd be within inches of maiming each other.

Like a domesticated couple, Art got to work on disposing of the body, dragging it with ease to your back door, before disappearing. It left a streak of smudged red on your tiles. You got to work cleaning, rolling your sleeves up as you hunted for something to make your floor shine again. It took a while, but he was gone for some time anyway.

By the time everything was relatively tidy, it was past midnight. The stain on the floor had disappeared thankfully, and you felt refreshed after a hot bath, changing into comfortable pyjamas and fluffy socks.

You sat in your bed, blankets pulled comfortingly up to your stomach. Your bedroom was filled with dim lights, and they had their necessary effect of making you feel content.

You had chosen a random film to watch on tv. It didn't really matter which one because your thoughts were otherwise occupied. It played serenely in the background, but something was bothering you.

A part of you felt slightly deflated. You were still undeniably frustrated and borderline desperate to have this desire quelled within you, and now that you had a moment to yourself, it barrelled to the forefront of your mind.

It was a ridiculous feeling, but you couldn't help that you were so pent up. Maybe you were ovulating. That did tend to make your hormones go haywire.

Even still, you hadn't long killed a man. It would be wrong to..indulge after that, wouldn't it? You pursed your lips in thought, two sides of yourself fighting menacingly. You couldn't tell if your good was being corrupted, or if Arts evil that had tainted you had brought out repressed, dark feelings that most humans surely kept hidden.

You didn't feel guilty, which was peculiar. Your nature before meeting Art often held a lot of empathy. You could feel yourself shifting, but you could never pinpoint the change until it had already been demonstrated. From the way Art pierced his black eyes into you, you bet he could see the transformation easily.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the background noise of the TV suddenly became incredibly interesting to your brain. You paused, peering at the TV as the sounds of quiet gasps and sloppy kissing filled your room.

It wasn't even particularly erotic, but..

Even just the sounds had your pulse increasing ever so slightly. In your desperate state of mind, it was easy to imagine how that messy kissing felt, tangled up in somebody else, remembering the feel of bolts of arousal shooting down your body in tingles as it became more passionate, more eager.

You were in a trance, frozen as you watched and drank up every detail. Male hands gliding down a womanly figure, cupping her heavy breasts and listening to the shaky inhales and exhales she made, back arching into his hands needily.

You felt a hot warmth bloom in your abdomen, a pulse beating steadily between your thighs. How were you so affected by this? You weren't even just mildly turned on, you were in a state of full blown arousal, a stickiness oozing between your legs. You felt like some of that was from earlier, mostly from the anticipation of sex rather than the futile attempts that asshole made on you.

The image now depicted the man positioning the woman on her hands and knees, readying her. You gripped your blanket, wanting so badly to be touched like that again and actually enjoy it.

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, hyper analysing every detail you could take in. The world around you faded.

The actor on screen gripped the woman's hips roughly, situating himself behind her. He gave her no time to prepare before sinking in slowly, and you watched the way her lips spread open in a quiet moan, brows furrowed and chest rising and falling rapidly.

A wave of heat flashed through you, making you warm enough that you had to kick the blanket off your person. What film was this? It was incredibly pornographic, not that you were complaining..

Your bottoms were next to go, tossed haphazardly to the floor; you were sweltering. Granted, the room was far too warm anyway, but what you were witnessing on screen had you in a completely different state of over heating.

All you had on now was a pair of black, silky underwear and an oversized top. You felt dishevelled, and sighed as the scene ended far too quickly for your liking and the TV adverts started to play.

You watched on in boredom as Christmas adverts began popping up colourfully with the sound of bells ringing. You felt mildly irritated, your arousal fizzling considerably, but still prominent. You were left with the sticky reminder between your thighs, head lolling back against your bedframe.

Your head rolled to the left, eyes staring down your nose at the sight of your bedside drawer. Specifically, the one that held a lot of intimate objects. You felt a little cautious using the vibrator because knowing Art, he'd curiously come up to see what the noise was; he seemed to have acute hearing.

But if you went under the blankets, vibrator hidden between your thighs, there's no way he'd hear that. Your door was firmly shut and the buzzing was incredibly muffled under your duvet. You'd be quiet and keep it on the first setting.

You were astounded once again at just how wound up and sensitive you are, vibrator delicately touching your clit as your phone displayed a pornographic video.

The cock on the screen was a good size, and as you watched it's girth spread the woman's puffy labia, a sudden desperation gnawed through you. You pressed the vibrator onto your clit more directly, the bottom of your t shirt caught between your lips as your tits jutted out prettily on display, nipples pert.

You bit down on the fabric to quell your whines of delight, breathing sharp and fast through your nose as the vibrating against your clit became over whelming, body alight with a white hot fire that spanned from your abdomen down to your toes.

Your sodden hole clenched needily, you wanted to be filled but you needed a man to do that. You wanted to receive a worthy dick that would split you in half just like the woman on your small screen.

The scene changed abruptly, and what was shown next had your hips bucking desperately into the vibrator, teeth now clenching the fabric hard as your breathing became heavy through your nose, pleasure intensifying.

The man had the woman on her knees, his member shoved ruthlessly into her mouth as he gripped a fistful of her hair and used her like a toy. Saliva decorated her mouth, and you watched with rapt attention as the mans heavy balls slapped her chin; it all seemed degrading, but..

A moan escaped you, muffled, and your back arched as you moved a hand between your thighs and touched the outside of your entrance; you were absurdly wet, sinking straight through your underwear and smearing your inner thighs.

You so desperately wanted to grab the dildo from your draw and push it deep within yourself, hard, but you refrained. Your climax was approaching anyway, and you could hardly stop yourself from whining at the thought of being the woman on the screen, sucking a hard dick as you made a messy pool of wetness below you, begging to be split apart.

From there, it was a hasty descent into blinding pleasure, your wariness dimming as low moans escaped your lips. Your eyes were shut now, permanent soft frown creasing your eyebrows as you were so close to your peak, cresting at the very precipice--

A loud bang resounded in your room, loud enough to drag you out of your delirious stupor. Your eyes shot open in annoyance, wondering if you had kicked your remote control off of the bed, but then your blood turned to ice in your veins.

In fact, you sat so absurdly shocked that all movements ceased, eyes wide and unblinking at the now ajar door of your bedroom which you definitely, without doubt, unequivocally, had shut earlier.

You blinked rapidly, vibrator dropping from your hand. It buzzed obscenely on the bed with a sheen of lubrication covering the tip, but you hardly registered it.

The door was less than halfway ajar, your dark hallway the only thing you could see, and..

A hand flew to your mouth in utter mortification, cheeks flaming crimson. You felt dizzy with a multitude of emotions.

A messy, hand written note was celotaped to your door. In jagged, capital letters spelled 'Art was here'. With a crude, childish winky face drawn beside it.

Your breathing increased suddenly, limbs shaking with not only the almost-orgasm you were about to receive, but also the unusual fluttering of your stomach in nervous humiliation and something else.

You felt severely perplexed, biting your nails as you tried to reminisce, tried to pinpoint when and how he had opened the door without you knowing and celotaped that preposterous note to your door. How was that even possible?

Clearly, Art wanted to grab your attention just as you were about to orgasm, most likely banging your wall from the hallway, hard. It sounded like a picture frame had fallen.

That made sense. At the very least, one thing did. But what about the rest, how was he able to furtively open your door, noiselessly, undoubtedly watching you?

You bolted up straighter, eyes darting around anxiously. Oh my God, he hadn't just intuitively known you were touching yourself, he must've heard something. Were you loud? You couldn't remember, you were so dazed.

Your mind created pictures of your thoughts, envisioning him opening your door just a crack and--

Your hands covered your face. You were so embarrassed. Had he been watching you? He surely had. And alongside this humiliation, why did you feel a flutter of nervous excitement roll through you? Were you so depraved?

Your hands kneaded your blanket, gripping handfuls and releasing rhythmically. Holy God, Art had made you feel many things over the years.

Hatred, annoyance, recent joy and laughter, fear, anxiety, you could go on and on, but this?

This was something new. And yeah, maybe he only did it to get under your skin. What better way to mortify a woman than catching her red handed, touching herself, and calling her out on it?

But..

Your thoughts took it a step further.

Was there..any other reason?

You bit your lip in contemplation, arms wrapped around yourself comfortingly. At some point over the past two years, brief thoughts of the demonic clown had entered your mind, fleeting sexual thoughts that left as quickly as they came.

Because, well, you were evidently desperate at this point. And he had a certain charm about him, once you got passed the ire you once held for him. And he was a man, or in a man's body, anyway.

Your mind swirled with questions, dirty thoughts, and unending embarrassment each time you realised he probably saw everything that you did.

And he probably saw the way your teeth gnawed into your shirt to silence yourself, heavy breasts poking out beneath, fully exposed, expression one of unbridled, desperate pleasure.

Your heart beat felt like it was in your ears, anxiety high. The door remained open for a reason. He wanted you to come out, and then wanted to absolutely humiliate you.

You got along a lot better now, as evidenced earlier, but that didn't mean that he'd stop messing with you.

Begrudgingly, you knew that even with your enhanced abilities and strength, you were no match for him. If he wanted to truly be hidden, he would. If he wanted to truly be swift and unseen in his movements, he would be.

You often found your bizarre abilities only worked when you were angry, or felt some sort of negative emotion.

Otherwise, you were just a regular human, having no control over that shard of terror that lingered within you from your rebirth.

Steeling your nerves, you took slow steps towards the door. You were still clad in your long t shirt and fluffy socks, and schooled your expression into one of stern stoicism.

You couldn't avoid that asshole forever.

Gripping the door handle, you stepped fully into the darkness of the hallway, enveloped. Standing still for a few moments, you realised he obviously wasn't outside your door, waiting to terrify you.

Swallowing nervously, you made your way downstairs. The stairs groaned and creaked like they always did, but it sounded absolutely deafening to you as it signalled your descent.

Out of everything that he had ever done to you - from killing you, to breaking your bones, stabbing you and everything else - this made you feel the most vulnerable.

Your living room was pitch black, not a single light illuminating the area. You held your breath, listening as intently as you could.

Silence.

Your throat felt too dry to call out to him. You knew your voice would shake, your words would stammer. It would make the situation even more shameful, so you remained quiet.

Your eyes surveyed the living room in darkness, honing in on any unnatural shadow that seemed a little too eerie; he wasn't here. That frightened you more than if he had taken this moment to jump out at you.

Uneasy frustration welled up within you. Not only had your pleasure been ripped away from you, your legs uncomfortably sticky, but now you felt incredibly exposed.

Inhaling deeply, you glared holes into your kitchen door. Two things could happen here: Either he was in there waiting to scare the hell out of you, or he wasn't in there at all, making you more on edge.

You pushed the door open, trailing inside with faux confidence, switching the lights on.

Nobody was here.

If anything, the kitchen was still surprisingly how you left it earlier - clean. Eyebrows drawing together into a scowl, you grabbed a glass of water, chair screeching as you took a seat.

Art must've pulled that trick on you and then promptly left, entering the night to no doubt destroy another victims life.

Brushing your dishevelled hair out of your face, you sat back against the chair defeatedly. Well, your emotions aren't going to change what's already happened, and you'd have to face that asshole at some point.

Evidently, tonight was not the night.

Glancing at the clock, you couldn't believe that it was already 3am. Your eyes felt heavy, your limbs felt weary and you were burnt out.

Peering around the kitchen, you realised that you must've left your phone upstairs.

That's fine, you needed to sleep anyway. Pushing yourself to a stand, you trudged sleepily up the shadowed stairs, rubbing at your burning eyes with the back of your hand.

You felt content at the moment to sleep off the crazy events of the day and worry about them tomorrow. Your door was open, just as you had left it, and the comforting glow of your warm lights that emitted from inside welcomed you with open arms.

Stepping into the safety of your room felt relieving, and as you turned back to close the bedroom door firmly, you came face to terrifying face with a chest.

You froze, mind pausing in fright at the sudden, tall body that blocked your doorway. You blinked rapidly, face displaying astonishment, and snapped your head up at the perpetrator, wide eyed.

What stared back down at you made caution well up inside you. Art stood tall, appearing out of thin air clad in his absurd Santa costume. It suited him, and the bulky material only served to make his structure appear even bigger, more menacing.

Your eyes fluttered up at him with uncertainty, darting rapidly between his face and his chest as you struggled to maintain his intense eye contact.

The clowns face was all sharp contours, edged smile of amusement plastered to his face as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed languidly across his chest, widening his overall structure considerably. Has he always been this big?

He watched you with a wide, salacious grin, eyes alight and unwavering, and from the glint in his eye you knew what was about to come.

You swallowed, feeling your mask of neutrality betraying you as your body heated up, displaying a pink hue to your complexion. You didn't know what to say, how to act. Art could see this, the way you'd open your mouth only to close it, eyes darting around nervously.

You were usually so full of complaints, insults and incredibly argumentative when he had 'crossed the line', as you so often called it. As he so often did. Since your rebirth, you were all fire and wrath, near enough ripping his head off for something as simple as leaving a bloody mess on your floors or your door handles, if he didn't clean it anyway.

Of course, Art had begrudgingly agreed with you long ago to cease the truly harsh fighting, but that didn't mean that you didn't bicker, in a sense. He liked your ire, the way your teeth would grind together in anger, the way you'd go into an absolute fit if he threatened to childishly mess with your makeup and clothes, or anything you held valuable, really.

It was funny, and he knew you secretly got a kick out of it. Once the cat and dog game was over, you'd snap back to being a sweet, little human. It was interesting, and so amusing.

But this? Art peered down at you deliberately, perusing your flushed exterior with a smug, self satisfied grin.

He had been looking for new ways to get you to crack. So far, everything annoying he did was met with your aggressive screeches, and that was fine. But he needed something juicy, needed something that would really bother you, rile you up.

For a while, he struggled to find anything. He couldn't go too far with his schemes - you were both bound together, after all, so that would be met with futility.

He truly enjoyed bothering you, that was true, but his methods got boring. What could he possibly do that would make you think twice, or go silent? What would really shock you, make you revert back into your humanity, so full of emotion?

As a point of reiteration, he could have done many crude, evil and horrific things, but he couldn't because of your peculiar connection. So, he had to settle for something that was..bearable to you, but also astounding.

He came across this opportunity by pure chance. He knew what you got up to behind closed doors, you were a needy thing, but he didn't really think twice about it. He kept the knowledge of it quiet, however, just in case he ever needed to utilise it for fun.

It didn't interest him, initially. He enjoyed inflicting pain, mentally and physically, so the fact that you would so often touch yourself to induce pleasure wasn't particularly within his territory of fixations. He had other things that kept him occupied.

However, hearing your laboured breathing and quiet little moans had piqued his interest on this particular day. He had no reason for that, other than the simple fact that he wanted to spy on you. It was an urge that came by on a whim; it meant nothing, it is nothing, but Art often acted spontaneously on how he felt in the moment.

Mortal flesh did so often have its urges.

And a light bulb certainly lit up within his mind - this was the perfect way to humiliate you.

He had watched the way you gnawed at your t-shirt to keep quiet, pretty pert tits on display as you brought yourself closer and closer to completion. Art had grinned wickedly at the scene, hands fisting and shaking in excitement at the thought of never letting you live this down.

But, upon watching further, witnessing the way your head lolled back pleasurably, back arching and legs splayed wide in pure need, he couldn't deny the barely restrained desire to storm in and tease you until you were wracked with sobs.

Art had frowned in puzzlement at that feeling - it was incredibly rare for him - but his smile soon returned, shrugging as he accepted his feelings. If anything, this would only serve to embarrass you even more, he thought.

And now, dark eyes trained on your rapidly warming face, Art was enraptured by the amount of emotion that seemed to demonstrate itself. Your expressions changed quickly, and the details were minuscule, but he could see you entering a vicious cycle of bewilderment, embarrassment, anger and self consciousness.

It was as though your brain didn't know whether to lash out or guard itself. It was entertaining.

The silence hung heavily. Arts position remained the same, leaned casually against the doorframe, and yours remained as rigid and tense as ever. Your mind felt muddled. With a slow breath, your expression fell flat. Even still, you couldn't look him in the eye, and instead glared heavily at his chest.

"Stop it.", you began with a quiet, indignant scowl, chastising him. Your eyebrows drew together, so incredibly uncertain. His eyes bored holes into you and it was making you squirm. You were too stubborn to turn away.

Even still, you'd admit defeat temporarily. You didn't have the energy to battle him right now. With a huff, you turned on your heel and made your way to the bed, exasperatedly throwing your arms up into the air.

"Fine, stay there and stare all night for all I care; I'm tired." But you did care, didn't you? It gnawed at you.

Barely making it to the bed, you stopped abruptly at the sound of fingers snapping at you once, twice, seeking your attention. With a roll of your eyes, you slowly turned to look at him, expression thunderous. "Art, I'm not in the mood for this, and-- is that my phone?"

You barely breathed the question in masked panic, eyes wide once more as your phone dangled teasingly from his fingertips, wide grin stretching impossibly further.

The clown shrugged softly as though to say 'maybe', shoulders beginning to move rapidly, rising and falling in laughter as he held a hand to his mouth in faux astonishment at whatever was showing on your phone.

He feigned a look of bashfulness, fanning his face for a moment, eyes fluttering, before pointing and laughing at you some more. Your face twitched in it's attempt to remain calm and neutral, but Art could see right through you.

Covering his eyes obscenely at whatever was on the screen, but still very clearly peeking through the gaps in his fingers, Art swiftly turned the phone around so you could have a look.

That's when your mouth went dry and heat began to pinken your face even more. On the screen displayed the porn you were looking at earlier. You must've forgotten to close the tab, leaving the video running.

The volume had been turned up far too loud, the sounds of slurping and moaning vibrating through your skull deafeningly. A woman on screen had her hair gripped hard in a fistful, the man above her sliding his thick length between her lips. The sounds were filthy, and so so loud. You gripped the sides of your face loosely in devastation.

This time, you stormed up to him furiously, lunging and making a grab for your phone. "Stop it!", you repeated, shrieking this time.

You missed the phone entirely as he lifted it higher. You seethed, teeth clenched in frustration as the sounds continued, except now they had increased exponentially. From the way the screen turned down at you, you could see the man lifting the woman's thighs over his shoulders before he--

You shook your head furiously, shame blooming deep within your chest as you roughly slapped a hand against his chest for leverage, trodding onto his boots on your tiptoes to try and make another grab for your phone.

The attempt was futile, art was so tall and his arms were so long that you could never reach it. Your body was pressed up against his own, stretching high to make even minor progress in retrieving your phone. You could feel your anger boiling, scowling as you reared an arm back and aimed a punch for his sternum.

Everything happened incredibly fast after that. Before you could make contact, your forearm was gripped hard, your body was spun and your arm was wrenched behind your back.

You yelped, back pressed firmly to his front. You jerked side to side rapidly, releasing a cry of frustration in your attempt to get out of his iron grip, but to no avail.

"Let me go right now!" You attempted to sound demanding and aggressive, but it came out whiny, your voice shaking. You could feel the clowns body vibrating with laughter behind you, hand so tight around your arm you couldn't move at all.

On any other day, when you and Art would undoubtedly get into situations like this due to his pestering, you had a far better chance of escaping because you were often angry.

But today, you felt..more vulnerable than anything. You felt so puny, so small and human and fragile. It was a dirty trick on his part, and it prevented your usual unnatural strength from bursting forth.

Well, even with that strength, you don't think you could truly win against Art anyway.

Tossing back and forth regardless, you huffed and cursed at him repeatedly, knees slightly bent from the way he held you tightly and put pressure on you.

"You're a fucking asshole!", you seethed, practically feeling the mirth roll off of him in waves at your predicament.

A strong hand wrapped it's way around your delicate jaw, holding firmly but not painfully. Your head was pushed upwards almost playfully, fingertips tickling the underside of your face.

You met your own scowling expression in the body length mirror that decorated your wardrobe doors. It was as long as the doors and just as wide, giving you a clear view of Arts smirking face hovering above you.

You took in your dishevelled complexion, hair a wild mess, face lightly perspiring and your long pyjama t shirt barely reaching just above your knee.

You were hunched slightly due to being immobilised, and the hand that cradled your jaw looked absolutely massive. It was big enough to crush your skull if he wanted to, big enough to easily smother your mouth and nose without actively trying to.

Your scowl had lessened considerably at this point, that vulnerable expression returning once more. From this view, you hadn't realised just how tall he was compared to you. He was lithe, but wearing that Santa costume made him fill out a little, appear wider.

On a normal day his size would swallow your stature whole, casting a shadow over you, but in that costume?

He looked huge.

The stark realisation of this, paired with the absurdly intimate way he had your back flush to his chest and his calloused hand wrapped around your jaw with a salacious smirk, forcing you to stare at him in the mirror - you couldn't help but flush.

You found that you couldn't look away, your head attempting to move only to have his grip tighten, his grin sharpening. He loomed above you like an evil blight, eyes dark and calculating.

The sounds of the video continued in the background, a particularly loud cry having drawn you out of your thoughts, and it caused you to flutter your eyes to the floor and away from his charcoal irises.

You couldn't deny the heat that began to flourish within you.

It only increased tenfold at the feeling of a firm hand slowly gliding it's way from your jaw, descending directly to your waist, then further to your hip, squeezing.

Your eyes widened, head snapping back up at the mirror in bewilderment. You were met with the sight of his rough hand caressing you, smiling all the while.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You spat rapidly in disbelief, words shaken and sounding far weaker than you would've liked.

He had never done this to you before. Art liked to cause pain, not..

Not this. Not any semblance of pleasure, of intimacy. Your lips opened in a quiet gasp, body tingling as the heat of his hand drew circles along your hipbone before delving lower.

You jerked in his grasp, flushing heavily at the sight of his hand gliding lower and lower until his fingers played with the hem of your t shirt.

"D-dont you dare!", you squeezed your thighs together, body squirming against him with struggle. He had long since released your numb arm, and instead opted for wrapping a long arm around your waist, your head resting against his chest as his daring hand gripped the fabric of your t shirt and teasingly went to lift it, only to stop, awaiting your reaction.

His shoulders began to move with glee, chest vibrating. Your reactions were priceless as you squirmed and attempted to back away from his hand, only to back further into his body.

This infuriated you, your flushed complexion displaying panic and bashfulness.

Those mischievous fingers danced along your thigh, lifting the fabric once again, higher this time, before dropping it. His expression held one of mock surprise, lips downturned neutrally and eyes wide, eyebrows lifted.

"Don't-- don't do that! I mean it!", you whined miserably, heat encompassing your body. It caused him to pause, eyes snapping from your almost exposed thighs to your pleading gaze.

That sharp, predatory grin returned. The heat of his hand squeezed your thigh and slipped under the fabric, tickling the edge of your underwear, fingers playing with the intricate, laced detail.

Your breath shuddered, eyes wide, and you unconsciously moved a hand to grip at his wrist. Whether to push him away or pull him in, you didn't know anymore; you felt overwhelmed, and the way your chest rose and fell rapidly portrayed that.

Art snickered, unwrapping himself from your body and taking a step back, his boots thumping. With a playful roll of his eyes, he held his hands up in mock surrender, as though to reassure you that it was all a harmless joke, and attempted to smile softly, innocently. It made him appear all the more sinister.

You spun around on your heel, taking a step back yourself as you scrutinised his display of surrender. It was uncharacteristic. Despite that, Art shook his hands exasperatedly in the air, sighing as though to say 'it was a joke, don't you believe me?'

You shook your head slowly, lost for words. You couldn't speak, throat dry and mind racing. You wanted to run away.

Art rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, before rolling them back to you dramatically, grin plastered on his face. At your retreat, he experimentally took a step forward, rather comical if not for the situation, and chuckled at your jittery self.

You furrowed your brows, not falling victim to this act anymore. You were going to kick his ass tomorrow, but for now you needed to retreat into the safety of your blanket, tail between your legs. "Get out.", you pointed towards the door sternly.

Arts eyes followed your finger to the door, before blinking over to you once more. His gaze swept over your form, head tilting in thought. He began to smirk.

Before you could react, Art leapt forward three steps, making you yelp and scramble backwards, narrowly missing falling over the edge of your bed as you backed your way towards the wall.

The clown snickered again, standing up tall and no longer doing that comical hunched appearance when he lunged at you. Now, he stood to his full height, back straight and stature big, before his boots thudded along your floor as he slowly advanced in a predatory fashion.

"I swear to God if you come near me--", you pressed yourself against the wall, watching his looming figure get taller and taller.

Your neck craned upwards, stare defiant as he hovered above. Heavy hands suddenly planted themselves violently either side of your head, crowding you in.

You flinched, blinking rapidly at the way he leaned down to become eye level with you. Your cheeks were pink again, eyes darting across his face for an answer to his weird behavior. What the hell was going on?

He was alluring, you thought, and it made thoughts race in your mind. Was he going to suddenly hurt you? Was he truly just playing? Was he actively flirting with you in his sick type of way? You had never fell this silent in front of him before. You needed to gain equal ground against this asshole.

"That's enough. What, are you interested in me now?", you scoffed, daring to lean forward into his space, face so close to his you could feel his silent breath; it was a front, you felt jittery even now, but you wouldn't allow him to mess with you any longer.

Art grinned, not at all reacting to your faux bout of confidence. He shrugged half-heartedly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. It left you dumbstruck. What he did next made heat spread so unbelievably throughout your body.

You were so flustered your head felt heavy, and it only increased tenfold as your wrist was gripped in his big hand, fingers limp and relaxed, before he brought the digits you had touched yourself with to his lips and slid them in slow.

You shuddered, inhaling sharply at this display of intimacy. His grip was slack on your wrist, seeming to omit to the fact that you could escape if you really wanted to.

But you didn't want to. The thought didn't even cross your mind, and his eyes narrowed in a knowing sense of smugness at that.

Arousal swelled in your lower belly, pooling between your thighs as Arts tongue danced between the seam of your fingers, the ticklish feeling sending tingles through your nerves.

Art peered down at you, mouth full of your fingers, his grin turning nasty as he bit them lightly. Despite the clear threat that he could rip them out of the socket, your eyes remained lidded, pupils blown wide and hand lax as you let him caress you with his tongue and teeth. Crowded so close together against the wall, he could hear your heart beat thumping.

Dropping your wrist from his grip, Art reached down, bending at the knees to hook two hands below your thighs. You cried out as you were lifted high, legs resting in his grip.

He did this with ease, as though you were weightless. Sitting down on the bed, he adjusted you so you could sit on his lap, facing away from him. You could see yourselves in the mirror.

Art hooked his legs between your knees and spread them open. You wiggled against his hold, embarrassed at your exposure. Your black, lacy underwear was displayed, t shirt bunching up at your hips. You couldn't bring yourself to snap at him to stop fucking with you because..

Well, you were eager, far more eager than you thought. Had you always harboured this feeling towards the clown?

You were crimson faced, lips quivering as you tried to make your expression as neutral as possible; He had you on his lap like he was actually Santa, and you were the one telling him what you wanted for Christmas.

The thought had you lowering your head in bashfulness. No innocent Santa would have you spread and bared like this one.

The expression Art made in the mirror was one of mock surprise, eyebrows high and mouth forming like a circle. Before you could even ponder about it, a large hand was brought down to your inner thigh, fingers inching their way further in, caressing the sensitive area before cupping your clothed sex.

You held your breath, staring stubbornly back at him in the mirror. His hand was warm, and you couldn't help but shudder at the feel of his hand trailing upwards slowly, dancing over your clitoris briefly, then your mound, and up to the waistband of your underwear.

His fingers dipped below the waistband, gauging your reaction, but you refused to give one. Cocking an eyebrow in curiosity, you felt his hand descend, lower and lower, fingers gliding over your silken lips before delicately resting over your hole.

You flushed darkly, gritting your teeth as Art made an even more astounded expression, shaking his head slowly as though to admonish you for the mess between your legs. His fingertips rubbed circles in the lubrication oozing out of you, dipping in slightly but never far enough.

A small sound escaped your throat, barely audible, but loud enough for him. A slow, smug smirk stretched his face wide, and you could only huff defiantly. "I-- That's not because of you! I was like this before you rudely interrupted, remember?" You pouted.

Art rolled his eyes, nodding his head in quick succession with a look of mock belief at your words. He knew you were lying and so did you. Then, with a sly grin, two fingers glided upwards towards your slippery clit.

You gasped that time, quiet but still embarrassingly deafening to yourself, gripping the fabric of his forearm tightly.

A tingling sensation flooded your system, your body shifting and legs widening. He continued to massage the area, direct and blissful. You bit your lip, unwilling to let him see how much you enjoyed this.

Art chuckled, shaking his head at you with a nasty grin, eyebrows low and cynical. His dark eyes swirled chaotically, full of challenge and amusement and something else.

Hand descending further into your soaked underwear, two fingers dipped into your slit, thoroughly lubricating his calloused fingers.

Art paused, winking at you in the mirror. You attempted to glare back at him in the reflection, but you lacked the effort, and instead your eyebrows were drawn together softly, lips parting as two fingers slid into you to the knuckles, delving deep and curling sinfully against your greedy walls.

"Oh!", you moaned, hips lifting instinctively. Art began to thrust his fingers into you deep and hard, listening to the lewd squelching and how it seemed to fluster you terribly.

The feeling was intense; you hadn't been properly touched in so long, so to feel his thick, rough fingers curling rhythmically within your hot core, it made your nerve endings sing and your hips buck.

You gripped his arm hard, gasping, body fully resting against his own, head lolled back against his shoulder. Arts shoulders shook with laughter, terribly amused by the sight of you falling apart, but he wanted more from you. He wanted to break you, he wanted to make an unintelligible mess of you.

You were so prideful, you'd never live this down.

A fist gripped your hair roughly, tangling the locks before his fingers began to pummel into you expeditiously. It was too much, too fast, and you couldn't help but kick your legs uselessly, crying out.

"Ah, ahh-- Stop it, too much--", you whined, panting as the sounds of your wetness became loud, thighs drenched. You could see in the mirror the way his hand moved ferociously, molding the fabric of your underwear.

Your pleas made him speed up, thrusting so hard and so fast you wailed, thrashing upon his lap and dampening the fabric of his costume.

This was what you wanted, you thought heatedly. You wanted someone to render you immobile, shatter your mind. The view of his sinister smirk boring holes into you was alluring, head forced backwards with the grip in your hair. It made heat prickle along your spine.

Your hips began to move with his fingers, desperately seeking more, any semblance of pride vanishing as you chased your high. Your constant grinding made you feel the thick, long length pressing up against your ass, and you couldn't help but moan wantonly, pushing yourself into it with need.

His hand was drenched in your fluids, and it made him snicker. If this was you now, imagine you later when he forced you to take his cock.

Suddenly, your underwear was torn off of you, exposing the image of his large hand going in and out, curling, and thrusting deeply. The visual was arousing, your eyes half mast and dilated.

His palm lifted suddenly and jerked back down with a quick, firm slap. You jolted, wincing at the sting it caused, but before you had a chance to return back to contentedness, it struck again.

Those sinful digits eased their way out of you, smoothing up the length of your puffy labia, cupping it soothingly. You sighed, panting lightly, body relaxed and pliant.

His hand was hot and it made you feel content.

This time, it was sharper, and you gasped, scrambling to sit up but being forced to remain where you were as an iron grip wrapped it's way around your midsection.

Again, that firm hand slapped your sensitive folds, and you whined miserably at the pain and pleasure it caused.

Your lips were beginning to darken red from his assault, and yet you were still undeniably wet from his ministrations.

Your legs began quivering from the overstimulation, and you drew them together, trapping his hand. He seemed to let you, tilting his head with a quirk of his lips.

"S-stop tormenting me. Can't take it, not today. Please, just..", you paused, gnawing at your lip; you didn't want to admit to him what you really needed.

Art blinked rapidly, almost innocently down at you. He held a cupped hand to his ear, his other hand waving for you to continue, as though to usher you to speak the words he knows you're going to struggle to admit.

You pouted petulantly, eyes sparkling with unshed tears from frustration and the light stinging of your folds. Your peak had been building, only to be abruptly halted.

"No," you groaned weakly, "don't make me say it, you asshole." Your words lacked any real ire, and instead sounded exhausted. You were so pent up, so desperate at this point. As soon as the offence left your lips, two fingers began circling around your clit, refusing to touch directly. Art all but smiled at you patiently, face splitting with glee.

You sighed softly at the soothing pleasure, head lolling back against his shoulder. It felt so good, and you tried to buck your hips to make his fingers slip over your clit, but to no avail.

This caused you to release a frustrated whimper, feebly bucking your hips again, but this time Art stopped his stroking altogether, fingers hovering above the area you needed them most.

"No, I-I'm sorry!", you rushed out insincerely, desperate for his touch. You could feel tears dancing along your lash line, threatening to spill pathetically.

"Don't stop. I.. I need this so badly. Please.", you relented, biting your lip nervously, eyes fluttering to the floor in shame. You felt that familiar vibration; he was laughing at you.

Even still, the clown did deliberate. On one hand, he could continue tormenting you. That would be fun, and it was the initial plan, but even he couldn't deny his mortal desires. He had a strong threshold for such matters; he wasn't often interested enough.

If anything, he never paid enough attention to whether it was a man or a woman that he was maiming. That only goes to prove how disinterested he was in the whole affair of carnality.

This situation was unique, however. He was bound to a human he had once killed, who had just as miraculously as him managed to rise from the dead, and was stuck with you for ever. And, you are a woman. He couldn't damage you terribly, and he couldn't kill you. What better way to make you submit to him than by fucking your prideful, spiteful, hot-headed little self into the bed?

You were so easy to aggravate, spitting venomous insults and screeching in anger at him. That was all well and good, but he wanted to see the look on your face when he pummelled you dumb.

If death was out of the question, then immobilising you with his own body would have to do.

Gripping your waist tightly, Art maneuvered your body with ease, spinning you in his lap until both your thighs sat either side of him. A hand held your lower back firmly against his body, standing up halfway to tug down the bottoms of his Santa costume. They fell to his knees, and he promptly sat back down, grinning.

You hovered over his thick length, flushing red in anticipation. Hands finding leverage upon his shoulders, you let your wet lips rest against the tip, shivering as you did.

He felt big. You hadn't really managed to look at it, but from the feeling you knew he was going to split you open.

He seemed to be barely touching you, grinning cheekily as he awaited your next move. His cooperation made you uneasy, you wondered what he had planned.

The thought disappeared swiftly as you bared your hips down onto him, letting the tip nudge past your swollen lips, sinking in an inch or two.

You inhaled sharply, feeling the beginning of his girth and pausing in your descent. "I-I haven't done this in a while and you feel--mmm-," you bit your lip, sinking down a further inch, your insides pulsating and stinging.

You squeezed him tightly, walls rippling and attempting to mold to his shape. You gasped again, lips parting in surprise as you lowered slowly, delicately, his size stretching you.

You gripped his shoulders, fabric bunching up in your hands. Your thighs were shaking from the effort it took to descend patiently. Even with how wet you were, his hot length dragged against your insides, another inch being enveloped in your tight heat.

"Nng, its--so big", you breathed shakily, eyes glistening again. Art observed your pained expression in awe, smirking and winking at your compliment.

Two hands held your hips tightly, fingers digging in to the delicate flesh. You sighed delightedly at the contact, not at all preparing yourself for the sinister spark in the clowns eyes, before he slammed your hips down into his forcefully, tearing through you and settling within you to the hilt.

You cried out woefully, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as a pained sob was wrought from you. He could feel you shaking against him, panting against his ear, and couldn't help but chuckle nastily at your pain.

"W-wait, I need to adjust--", you began softly, voice quivering, but was given no time as Art lifted you up to the tip then dropped you back down. Your soft ass slapped against his lap, a horrible pain mixing with pleasure inside of you.

"It hurts! You're too big--!", you whined pitifully, tears dripping from your eyelashes. You gripped around his neck hard, body contorting in pain, shallow breaths hitting his ear.

Art knew this. You were so tight he had to grit his teeth, but he revelled in the concoction of pleasure and pain that wracked your body. You were too weak to fight him, trying to lift yourself off of him only to collapse back down, crying out as he filled you again. He could feel your tears soaking into his costume, and it made his cock fill with blood.

You were so full, the stinging sensation unbearable, and as he lifted you again, dragging your sodden hole off of him, he thrust up into you, letting your hips drop as he met you halfway and slid in.

A surprised moan was torn from your lips, a boiling heat enveloping your body as pleasure tingled and spread throughout your nerves. Art enjoyed your pitiful, pained cries, but he knew that the pain began to melt away as your breathing went from shallow, pained pants to breathy exhales.

The stinging became a dull sensation in the background, your insides igniting blissfully as those strong hands lifted you up once more, sliding all the way out before filling you up rhythmically.

"Mmm, Oh-", you moaned breathily, lips permanently parted. You no longer contorted your body awkwardly and instead began to melt against him, curling about his form needily.

Your hips began to take control, moving up and down his rock hard length, eyes closed against his shoulder as he emptied you and filled you over and over, thrusting up to meet your downward motions hard, filling you deep.

"Yes--Oh--", you couldn't stop the noises tumbling out. He wasn't even doing much, merely meeting your thrusts, but he was so big and long and thick and mouthwatering-

"Need more", you whined weakly, nuzzling your face against his neck, the fur of his Santa costume tickling your nose. "Please.", you added softly, thighs shaking so badly you didn't have the energy to lift yourself up fully.

Instead, you lifted your hips half heartedly, attempting to at least try, feeling that over whelming pleasure every time he thrusted upwards into you.

Each downward pull made you needy, and each thrust had you seeing stars. You could feel the grin on his face beside your cheek, body moving with silent chuckles. You were so responsive, feeling those big hands trail from your hips and down to your soft globes, pulling the cheeks apart.

You could feel your hole opening, feel his rigid length sinking in even deeper. You realised that he could probably see himself driving into you from the mirror reflection, your sopping core on full display as it sucked him in greedily.

You peered over your shoulder curiously, lidded eyes honing in on the mirror. The erotic visual had you writhing in his grasp, gnawing at your lip as he stared right back at you, lifting a hand to wiggle his fingers at you.

It was weirdly humiliating, but before you could turn away to nuzzle back into his neck and hide, his hand was brought down sharply in a loud slap upon one of your round cheeks.

You gasped, lips parting as your gaze remained frozen on his slowly retreating hand, waiting with bated breath, before it bared down upon your jiggling flesh again, and again, and again.

Your body jerked each time, a gasp escaping upon each impact, but your eyes couldn't leave the sight behind you, infinitely aroused at how displayed you were, at how massive he looked below you.

Art soothed the red handprints on your cheek with a gentle rub, looking at you in the mirror with mock concern, lips pouting out at you as though you were the cutest little thing.

You couldn't handle the embarrassment any longer, and turned back around to wrap your arms around his neck, thighs giving out below you. Two hands returned to your ass again, before gliding up into you faster this time, one thrust after another, drawing longer moans out of you.

The increase in pace made you writhe upon his lap, mewling in delight. You let yourself be manhandled, swiftly reaching down to grip two hands at the bottom of your t shirt and rip it over your head.

Your breasts bounced free, nipples teased against his body with each thrust, igniting a white hot sensation directly to your clitoris. You moaned a lot deeper this time, mouth below his ear, gasping and mumbling pleas.

Art reached a fist into your locks and wrenched your head back, hearing you wince and watching the sultry way you bit your lip at his rough actions.

You finally made eye contact with him, face to face, your complexion a dark pink. You put up no fight against his hold, even as he wrapped his fist tighter and pulled your head back hard. Your neck was bared, and you watched those charcoal eyes drop smoulderingly to your jiggling breasts.

His teeth attached themselves to your neck, biting and caressing the column of your throat, before finding an appropriate area and sinking his teeth in hard.

You cried out noisily, the sound pleasurable but stunted by pain, sounding more like a yelp. The harder he bit, the faster he fucked you, and you were soon delirious on the pain and pleasure, feeling his teeth latch on harder and harder until warm liquid oozed from the puncture of your skin.

Tears dripped from your eyes, cascading down your cheeks as you hiccupped and sobbed, your neck pulsating painfully. You didn't fight him, so caught up in the way he split you open.

The demonic clown paused, drawing back from your bruised and swollen neck, eyes flickering from the blood trickling down to your collar bone, and all the way up to your sparkling eyes, tears streaking your cheeks.

You winced, hair still wrenched back, moaning weakly at the pain, your breathing turning shallow again.

A hand cradled your jaw, thumb wiping a stray tear, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into the warm palm, comforting and big. It wasn't often he got to see your tears. The sight made him want to make you cry more, spill those fat droplets from your eyes.

Art tilted his head a fraction, inquisitive at your display of affection. You seemed to latch onto him, needing to be touched, gripping at him and melting against him. It was a far cry from your usual self.

His fingers moved down to the puncture wounds on your neck, pressing onto the tender flesh and making more tears spring from your eyes. It felt bruised and the skin was beginning to rise.

Blood dripped down your neck, and he used two fingers to swipe a clean line up your neck, coating his fingertips in the red substance.

Your eyes honed in on his crimson fingers, alight with need. Art tilted his head the other way, deciphering, and burned his gaze through your intimate display as you gripped at his hand and brought his fingers to your lips.

You suckled the tips, cleaning the crimson off of him, before taking his fingers into the back of your mouth, lathering them slowly.

Your own fingers dipped into the wound, wetting the digits red, before you hesitantly brought them towards his lips. His thrusting slowed, eyebrows lifting minimally, a shard of surprise running through him at your carnality. Your blood was alluring enough to halt his ministrations.

Finally, that dangerous mouth opened, slowly enveloping your smaller digits, tongue curling around them sinfully.

Your stare was unwavering, blinking from his mouth to his eyes before settling on those wretched depths. They swallowed you whole, scrutinizing your own visage. His smiling had long since ceased, a stern neutrality overcoming him even as you drew your fingers back and wrapped your arms around his neck to press your bloodied lips onto his.

The urge overcame you, tongues battling against one another messily. The remnants of your blood mixed between your lips, a soft moan of delight escaping you.

You never thought you'd be kissing this maniac. It sent heat coursing through you, borderline delirious from the feel of being so wrapped up in a being that was so dangerous.

Your passion resumed, hips lifting enough to feel the drag of his dick in your tight heat, before gliding back down with a light slap of your ass against his lap.

You were so wet it began to lather your inner thighs, dripping down your legs and coating his balls.

Your desire began to reignite, no longer a simmering heat and instead increasing to a boiling wave that overcame you. You grinded your hips, breaking your lips apart to gasp at his depth.

Art became watchful of your eager display, letting you pleasure yourself with his body. You leaned back, arms around his neck and extended straight so that you still had some leverage, and moaned wantonly as your position changed and his cock began to stimulate that lovable spot deep within you.

"Oh fuck--mmm--", your head lolled back, tits bouncing rhythmically as you increased your pace. You could barely hold your moans in now, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his length hitting you just right.

Art recognized the increase in your pitch and the way your body moved desperately upon his, and grinned. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, gripping handfuls of your jiggling ass and beginning to meet your movements with his own, fucking up into you hard.

"Yes, right there, oh my god-", your legs were no longer folded below you, resting back on your knees. You had swiftly moved them, sitting fully into his lap now with your legs extended either side of his waist. This added even more depth to his movements. You could no longer grind your body against his, simply taking whatever he gave you.

"It's so deep, oh-" you began to quiver, needing so much more, but all he could do was smirk down at you amicably, as calm as ever, watching you fall apart as each thrust directly pummelled into that spot.

You felt like ripping your hair out in frustration, body squirming upon his own in distress. Each thrust was like a shot of an addictive drug, filing you up and making you feel so high, but you needed that unrepressed carnality that you craved.

Shaking your head with a pinched expression of dismay, you leaned forward to wrap your arms fully around his neck once again, head resting on his shoulder as you whimpered.

His rigid length bruised against your cervix, hands on your hips and holding you down just to get that inch deeper. You were shaking, exhaling little 'ohh's into his neck, eyes squeezed shut.

"Don't care anymore; Need it harder", you whined pathetically, warming his neck with your hot breath; you were starting to crack. "Please fuck me. Need you so bad. Making me feel so fucking good-Oh--"

Your waist was gripped in a bruising force, lifting your body up and down like a pliant doll, fucking you vigorously. Your sweet admittance sent a thrill through his body, so he supposed out of the kindness of his heart, he could cease his teasing. For now.

Art gave you a lascivious smirk, eyes twinkling mysteriously. With a slight shrug and a nod, he seemed to silently agree with himself that it was time to get serious.

The world around you blurred as you were thrown onto the bed, hips forced into position. Your body bared itself on hands and knees and you tentatively peered upwards towards the mirror, fists clenching into the quilt in anticipation.

You watched the large, looming clown settle behind you, swallowing your body whole. With a playful wave at your watchful gaze, Art thrust forward and buried himself within you.

Your breath escaped your lungs in a silent gasp, body lurching forward from the force as he held you in place and began fucking you deep and fast.

He didn't tease you this time. Everything that had happened previously had been leading up to this moment, and it was mind shattering.

Repetitive 'uh's and 'ohh's sprung from you at each thrust, his cock splitting you open well and good just like you've craved for so long. He felt massive in this position, your velvety insides hot and tighter.

Gliding out until the tip, he'd push back in smoothly, coated in your arousal. It drove you wild, the lewd smacking of skin and wet squelching that increased more and more as he drove in faster, harder.

Your knuckles were white from how hard you gripped the bedding, unintelligible praises falling from your lips at the way he made you feel.

" 'm so full, oh my god-", you cried almost lovingly at the sublime feeling of him tearing through your snug heat, near enough bruising your cervix.

With a cynical pout down at you, mockingly awed by your kind praises of his ample size, Art reached forward to grab a fistful of your hair, wrenching your body backwards so your back bowed enticingly. It made your ass look rounder, made it jiggle and ripple more against his unrelenting thrusts. It hypnotized him, his cock rock hard.

Your upper body was suspended by the hand in your hair, and you could now clearly see how ravaged you looked in the mirror. The looming Santa behind you dwarfed your figure, all jagged smile and wiggling eyebrows at your pleasured expression.

Your tits bounced prettily in the reflection, witnessing the way his normally piercing gaze faltered and darted down to the erotic scene, before darting back up to your face. His smirk appeared lascivious at being caught, and he gave a comical, light shrug.

For some reason, an infernal fire roared within you at that; This creature was evidently attracted to your feminine form. It made you moan louder, reaching forward to play with your round globes teasingly, jiggling them with your incessant fondling, biting your lip at him in the mirror.

You were becoming feral for him.

Art cocked an eyebrow, head tilted in rampant interest at your display. That same jagged smile returned, and almost as a reward, he leaned forward and circled two calloused fingers over your sensitive clit.

Your reaction was instantaneous, legs shaking and body jerking at the intense pleasure. It made you nearly collapse forward if not for the grip in your hair, his cock still relentlessly spearing you.

"Fuck, just like that, ohh--", you cried blissfully, shuddering. Arts expression appeared sternly concentrated on your exclamations and the way your body sucked him in greedily. His thunderous expression was terrifying, but it only served to increase the heat within you tenfold, your body pliant and melting into his ministrations.

He shattered your equanimity, your mind turning to mush and only thinking of his thick hands and his fat cock-

Your thighs were violently quivering, struggling to not collapse. Your moans increased in pitch, high and breathless and weak.

" 'M so close, your cock feels so fucking good and I'm going to cum, im--ohh!"

Your body was roughly dropped, a violent hand forcing you into the bed. Your ass remained high while your cheek laid itself upon the blankets, face contorting in mindless, pleasurable relief as those murderous hands gripped at your hips and began fucking into you so expeditiously you wailed.

His heavy balls slapped your clit with each filling thrust, teasing the bundle of nerves to the point your knees began to quake, on the brink of collapse.

"Fuck, fuck!", you shrieked in repetitive succession, breathing erratically as his thick, long, veiny cock fucked you so good that you just burst-

Your knees did collapse this time, but firm hands kept your hips situated perfectly to receive his godly pistoning. With a high, keening noise you didn't know you could ever make, so desperate and whorish, your pussy contracted and gushed.

Your thighs were soaked and dripping, your bedding ruined. You could feel the way his grip tightened bruisingly on your hips at the feeling of your insides pulsating steadily, milking him, demanding he fill you up like you craved.

Your self consciousness and any semblance of pride were shattered into a million pieces at the mind numbing euphoria you felt. It enveloped your entire body in a blanket and made you feel like you were floating. Your insides fluttered intensely making your breathing erratic and short.

Your face was forced even further into the bed as you reached two arms back, planting a hand on either side of your round cheeks.

With a flushed, fucked out visage staring back at Art from the way your face was turned on its side, you spread your enticing cheeks apart, moaning. "Need you to fucking fill me, need you to fuck me so full please please-"

Art couldn't deny the intense arousal that shot through his body and engorged his cock unnaturally further. Your dainty fingers spread your cheeks so far apart he could see the way your hole split around his length, the muscles parting forcefully at his intrusion. Your virgin, tight puckered hole caught his attention the most, and he moved a thumb to rub the area tenderly, a promise that he'd make you scream yourself hoarse the day he managed to fit his cock into that narrow passage.

You'd cry, he'd make sure of it, and the thought and the visual in front of him was enough to have him seizing your hips so strongly that they would bruise, fucking you brutally and hearing your sobs of pain and pleasure, before his hips stuttered once, twice against your cervix and a flood of hot, ropey squirts painted your insides.

He filled you so deeply it made your body think it needed to pee, if only to expel the amount of cum within you. It was unnatural, but he wasn't a mortal. If anything, the absurd amount made you melt dreamily into the bed, thoroughly fucked and bred and satiated for the time being.

You felt the clown retrieve himself, sliding out with a lewd squelch. Your hole gaped and quivered, his cum oozing out of you messily and coating your thighs. You moaned pleasantly at the feeling of two fingers scooping out the sloppy mess, coating his fingers with it before pushing them into your mouth. You accepted the gift, a noise of delight escaping you.

It made you want to suck his cock and have him fill your mouth until you choked. The thought was arousing, clitoris pulsating lightly as you reached down and rubbed it in lazy circles.

His body moved behind you, two hands gripping your ass cheeks before a hot, long tongue nudged your fingers aside and lapped at your clit. You moaned wantonly, pushing your hips back into his ministrations, feeling that heat invade your abdomen again, signalling another orgasm.

"Oh God, fuck, your tongue feels so-feels so--", you cried out as two fingers sunk into you to the knuckles, pushing the sloppy cum back into your hole dirtily, all the while his tongue lapped at and lathered your clitoris, licking broad, rough stripes up the bundle of nerves until you were a whining mess.

"Fuck, fuuuck, don't know if I want your tongue or your cock more, mmm-"

Art chuckled into your sodden pussy, eyebrows low and sinister. You were shameless, your pleasure ridden brain void of anything else other than the need to be fucked dumb.

A high pitched cry of pleasure tore him out of his condescending thoughts about you, his mouth drenched in your splattering orgasm. His fingers curled within you, brutally fondling that area that had you outright weeping into the pillows.

Little 'too much!'s and 'stop!'s were cried out to him desperately, your body convulsing as though you were possessed. Wiping his mouth, Art sat back and admired his work.

You were panting, pleading in a high pitched, pathetic tone. Your body was overwhelmed, tired and bruised, and Art sat back on his knees and thought for a moment, hand to his chin.

His eyes rolled up to the ceiling in brief contemplation, and then he shrugged, situating himself behind you again.

You whimpered at the feeling of him forcing his sturdy cock into your puffy walls once more. The sound you made was strangled and weak, drool dripping down your chin shamelessly, body losing function of itself. You were crying openly, brought deeper and deeper into a submissive sort of headspace.

He grinned sharply, his cock hardening at the sight of your pathetic state. He bet he could make your body lose all inhibition and piss itself. You'd be so ashamed, and he'd make you lick the liquid off of his cock; a good girl for Santa.

He began to fuck you, patting your messy hair adoringly. You whimpered and wailed, pleading for more, pleading for less. But he found that he wasn't finished with you just yet. You wanted this, didn't you? You told him so yourself.

With a comforting stroke of your hair, Art smiled mockingly down at you, pouting his lips out at your cuteness. He couldn't go back on his word; he was going to fuck you until you couldn't walk.

Thrusting into you, your mouth opened in unbridled pleasure.

The comforting stroke of your hair turned sinister, gripping a fistful up to the root.

Your pretty, wet eyes stared back at him over your shoulder, lips quivering.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Epilogue

You had fallen unconscious. He had drawn orgasm after orgasm out of you to the point that you begged him to stop, crying so much that you couldn't breathe. Art adored your tears, awed and fascinated by them. The only reprieve you were given was your exhausted, slumped body falling soundly asleep. It was exquisitely blissful, but too much to bear.

You awoke with a weak groan, pushing yourself up to a seated position. You were naked in the blankets, but Art seemed to have the decency to clean you up slightly, your inner thighs dry and not at all the mess that they were a few hours prior. That was oddly sweet of him. And unexpected.

You wrapped a dressing gown around your body, wincing as you stood on shaky legs. Your insides felt battered and bruised, your hips dark with fingerprints. Making your way downstairs, your eyes were sleepy and lidded as you switched the kettle on to make yourself a coffee.

You had a moment of peace to yourself, or so you thought.

In came strolling that demonic clown, looking as fresh as a daisy and wide awake as he bounced preppily over to you, plonking his cup down beside yours in a silent request that he, too, wanted something hot to drink. Preferably hot chocolate.

He no longer adorned his Santa costume, instead dressed as he usually was in that monochromatic suit, face paint as immaculate as ever. He smiled down at you dazzlingly, or as brightly as a demonic entity could, patting your head like you were a golden retriever before grabbing the hot chocolate that you had barely stirred with your spoon and taking a seat at the table, newspaper in hand.

You eyed him warily, exhausted, and felt a small amount of embarrassment flourish within you at how normal he was acting and how drained you felt and looked and..

Not to mention the memories of last night either. You promptly locked them away in a box and threw away the key for now.

You reached up to grab a box of cereal from the shelf and sighed. You couldn't be bothered to eat right now, even though your stomach was grumbling noisily.

What you didn't expect was for a white hand to flash in your peripheral, grabbing it for you, before gripping your hips and spinning you to face him.

The pressure on your hips made you visibly wince, and Arts expression turned to one of shock, mouth an 'o' and eyebrows high. You frowned weakly at him before pushing his hands off of you with barely any effort behind it.

"Hurts." You pouted up at him, shaking your head lightly. You felt so weak, you really needed to replenish yourself and eat something.

Art cooed down at you, pinching your cheek lightly. You scowled now and moved away from him, thoroughly drained. He could sense that your usual fire had been doused at the moment, and held a finger up to represent a lightbulb moment.

Before you could contemplate it, you were picked up bridally and sped into the living room, making you squeal and giggle breathily. Art dumped you onto the settee, turning the TV on and putting on a horror film.

He jumped beside you, blanket covering both yours and his legs, and you couldn't help but smile dreamily at him.

He fucked you good and hard last night, and now wants to watch one of your favourite horror movies? What a gentleman. Art deadpanned at your bizarre expression, clicking his fingers in front of your eyes to snap you out of it. You only smiled wider, eyes crinkling.

"You know, you're sooo sweet when you want to be."

Art comically guffawed at your admittance, shaking his head swiftly to deny such a thing, lifting a finger to the side of his head and twirling it in a clockwise motion to signify you were crazy for ever thinking something like that.

The overly dramatic, rare expression had you giggling again, soft and sweet. Art rolled his eyes at you, waving you off as though to say 'yeah, okay, don't get used to it'.

Seeing this as a prime opportunity to tease, you were swiftly silenced as a slice of cake was shoved into your mouth. You don't know..where he got that, but he was a clown, after all, and it tasted edible.

Sighing contentedly, you chewed the sweet treat slowly, watching as the scene on TV displayed a possessed woman in the shower, scorching water melting her skin as she carved her mouth apart with glass.

You loved this movie, and Art seemed intrigued, cackling silently beside you. Wrapped up in the blanket, you leaned against him comfortably, and he seemed unperturbed by it, eyes honed in on the screen.

You don't know why he was being so gentle with you. Art never did things unless he wanted to, and that was enough of an answer for you; he simply wanted to act this way right now. Even still, it made you feel warm, and you supposed living eternally together wouldn't be so bad.

Well, that was until you fell asleep, awoken by the chill of having your thighs spread apart and cake smeared all over your puffy, abused folds.

"Art! What the hell are you doing?! I told you I'm in pain--"

Art chuckled evilly, leaning down to lick a gentle stripe up your icing covered lips, savouring the sweet taste.

Your breath hitched, but you still held your hands against his shoulders, faced etched with nervousness. "P-please don't. Can't..can't handle it right now."

Art tilted his head a fraction, staring up at you in awe. You had retracted to that submissive headspace again, and he found that he relished it. Repressing a cheeky grin, Art held his hands up placatingly, schooling his expression to one of neutrality, or rather barely masked amusement, and used his finger to draw an imaginary X over his heart.

"You mean you won't..be too much? Really? I'm having a hard time trusting you, you're literally grinning at me right now..." You huffed, expression incredibly wary.

Art covered his mouth with the back of his hand, teeth clenched as he grinned and laughed. Even still, he coughed once, face falling flat to prove he was.. moderately serious about being gentle with you.

In truth, he just wanted to eat your juicy pussy and hear you moan his name again. He bet he could get you to ask him nicely to fuck you.

For added effect, Art splayed his wide hands on your thighs and tickled the skin with either thumb, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh. Again, you had that dopey, dreamy expression on your face, and he began to think he really did damage your mind last night.

"Fine, just..be gentle, okay? I'm in no mood to quarrel today."

Art shrugged lightly. He kind of felt the same. It was refreshing hearing your soft voice instead of your screeching one of anger, or seeing your fluttering eyes at him rather than your stone cold ones.

Who knew that fucking you silly would make you so tame, so pliant. It was rather funny. Guess it proves that all you needed was a bit of dick to calm you down.

And Art was feeling surprisingly generous today. With a quirk of his lips, he settled between your thighs and placed them onto his shoulders.

Tongue darting out to lick up from your hole to your clitoris, he lathered the nub gently, lowering his lips to suckle it.

You gasped softly, widening your legs for him and biting your lip. The pleasure was instant, a heat boiling in your abdomen and fluttering down to your toes.

He was good at playing the part of devoted and gentle, and gripped at your hand delicately, lacing his fingers with your own in an intimate display. He watched you blush a pretty pink, mouth parting in awe at his uncharacteristic tenderness.

As you stared into his smouldering eyes, he smothered your clit beautifully, making you moan and buck your hips up into him.

He knew the moment your moans turned deep and sultry as he prodded a finger at your entrance, that you'd soon be backtracing your words and pleading with pouty lips that he fuck you gently.

There was an undeniable connection between you both; you were bound, after all, and even he wasn't immune to the effects of it. He'd still aggravate you, and absolutely wreak havoc on your wanting body, but he also rather enjoyed the peaceful tenderness of these moments, save for your breathy moans and the sounds of someone dying on the TV.

It made him feel peculiarly content. With a smirk into your sodden folds, Art thrust a finger into you deeply, standing between borderline pleasurable and 'too much', as you had said.

You had yet to berate him, he noted.

Within a few minutes, you were a mess down there, soaked and sticky with cake. He remained true to his word, not at all being rough, and instead holding you delicately in warm hands as he sucked and licked at your glistening folds.

"Art, it's the best part of the movie- Ah--"

He rolled his eyes at you, though did spare a single glance at the screen when he heard the sound of a chainsaw.

In no time, you were panting and reaching your peak, soft cry breathed into the air as his fingers curled and pumped into you, tongue massaging your clit. You gushed down his wrist, quivering.

Art smiled innocently up at your flustered self, imitating dabbing his mouth clean with a napkin. He jumped up and sprung beside you once more, pulling you into his sturdy lap and leaning back comfortably.

His eyes didn't leave the screen, fully focused.

You shifted, wiggling to get comfortable and felt his hard dick pressing against you. You bit your lip and glanced at him guiltily - you had just proclaimed that you were in pain today, and now you were having thoughts of him fucking you?

You settled back against him, flushed and buzzing with arousal. The film was almost over. Art grinned behind you, eyes ablaze with mischief. He knew what you wanted, but like you said, he was missing the best part of the movie.

Maybe if you're lucky, he'll fuck you later. But for now, you'd sit tiredly spent against his chest, chuckling at the brutal massacres on screen. More cake miraculously appeared, which always helped. It was pressed against your lips forcefully and you were more than happy to take it, humming in delight.

"Who'd have thought that you killing me all those years ago would evolve into this.", you smirked at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "You're actually really cute. No idea how I never noticed it before." Your girlish expression lit up your face, eyes sparkling.

Art looked exasperated at your comment and shrugged. He smiled cheekily, pointing at himself as if to bashfully say "who, me?"

Your giggles rung throughout your home, his silent laughter making your body move. You felt a sense of contentment - a partner in crime to maim people with and to fuck you dumb.

Your eyes swirled black, corrupt and tainted, and promptly shut sleepily.

What could be better than this?

i need him so bad. this is pure smut. i made an epilogue to add fluffy things but it turned into smut 💀

also this isn't related to sporadic contingency at all, its just a standalone fic x

#art the clown #art the clown smut #terrifier #terrifier smut #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #terrifer 3 #terrifer #terrifer x you #terrifier x reader

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fanfic-obsessed · 6 months ago

Text

Feral Tim

I have found I have a great love for Feral Tim Drake. This is a Tim Drake who has built his own moral code in an echoing, empty house and tracking vigilantes across rooftops. First it should be noted that Tim’s loyalty is tied closer to Robin than it is to Batman. That his motivation for blackmailing Bruce to become Robin was more toward saving Robin’s Dad and Robin’s legacy than saving Batman.

Little Tim Drake is Obsessively, Desperately, Dangerously protective of the Robin legacy and his predecessor Robins, particularly Robin #2 Jason Todd. It becomes well known in Gotham, really quickly that it is not a good idea to insult Robin while Robin #3 is around.

As always, I have no idea what is cannon here.

Like, if you insult Robin #3 to his face, you will get a laugh and an agreement-He will still stop you from your crimes but you won’t end up extra hurt. If you insult Robin in general, Robin #3 will be more aggressive in taking you down and you will get some extra bruises. If you insult Robin #1, you can expect at least one additional broken bone, which bone depends on the insult. However if you insult Robin #2, Robin #3 will bite and he will bite to the bone; you will be mauled and chances are Batman will have to pull Robin #3 off you.

Count of Bites, before all of Gotham got the point: 4 low level criminals, 3 civilians (all of which were drunk, belligerent, and woke up the next day confused about their injuries), no less than 16 assorted Goons, and The Penguin.

I want you to take a moment to picture Batman, who got a bit less violent after getting Robin #3 but got substantially less violent because he had to be a tired dad prying his little gremlin’s jaws off The Penguin. Everyone is distinctly uncomfortable with Batman apologizing to The Penguin.

So Gothamites, no matter the type, learned that one does not insult Robin #2 ever. In fact avoid insulting Robins, unless you are specific enough to be insulting Robin #3 (Though they would not have cause to know for several more years, this protectiveness extended to both Robin #4, the girl Robin, and Robin # 5, the Stabby Robin). Batman gets less violent by virtue of now chasing after a child with negative fear responses (Seriously, Scarecrow once dosed him with his latest fear gas and Robin #3 did not even appear to notice). Gotham, as a whole (Goons, Civilians, all of the other Rogues, other vigilantes) and without consulting each other, decides that Robin #3 and The Joker cannot ever meet. There is a herculean, sustained effort by all of the Rogues and Goons to keep the Joker distracted until Batman can send Robin away whenever the Joker breaks out. Consensus is that no one quite knows which will come out victorious, but there would be substantial damage. Also, Robin would end up biting the Joker and no one is sure what the Joker’s blood would do to him.

We fast forward to Red Hood taking over Crime Alley. He does not notice but the first time he ranted about Robin every one of his subordinates, plus the three Black Mask Goons in the room, flinches. They all relax when it becomes clear that the Robin Red Hood takes offense to is Robin #3. No one quite knows how to tell Red Hood that, for his health, he should stop insulting Robins (there had never been any real discussion about it). Black Mask and Ivy, at separate times, try to awkwardly pass on the warning but did not quite get the message across (there really is no way to phrase “The tiny child in the traffic light colors is dangerous and will do you actual damage if you disparage his personal hero, the dead Robin”).

As soon as it got around that Red Hood hunts Robins, with Robin #3 specifically being a target, Batman does ship him out to Titan Tower at once, but not for the reason that Red Hood thinks. It is not actually to protect Robin, not really. It’s because Batman has figured out that Red Hood was once Jason, and he knows down to his bones that Tim’s moral compass stays on this side of the killing line because he believes that both Jason and Dick would have a problem with him killing. If he finds out that Jason, the preferred of the two, is ok with killing, that line goes out the window. And then Batman is going to need to put Robin on a child leash.

So Red Hood goes to attack a Robin far from the nest and it starts about how he expected. He got in a few good hits, and his replacement actually does have some decent moves. Then Jason makes a disparaging remark about ‘the Robin that died’ that, had he been allowed to finish his sentence, would have circled back around to insulting Tim. However he was not allowed to finish his sentence because instead of fighting on human teen, he was suddenly fighting some kind of demon (metaphorically), who in between mauling him (and how the fuck is this kid biting through kevlar, Jason would like to know) is screaming about how Red Hood was not allowed to talk about Tim’s Robin like that.

For a few moments Red Hood gets to realize Robin is not locked in with him, he is locked in with Robin. Then one of Robin’s attacks pulls off the helmet (no bombs at this time, thankfully). As soon as Tim sees Jason’s face he stops attacking and hugs him tightly, babbling about how good it is to see him alive and apologizing for attacking him as Tim thought it was just some villain being disrespectful. Tim pulls him through to the med bay to treat his injuries.

While Jason is being treated, and they wait for the lockdown to lift, Jason is struck by the realization that if he even implied he wanted it, Tim would go try to collect the Joker’s head for him. This is quickly followed by the terrifying realization that Jason is 45% of this child’s moral compass (With Dick being about 30% with the remaining 25% being all Tim).

The Pit Rage is practically running from this level of crazy.

Jason finds himself escorting Tim back to the Cave, with Jason low key panicking. While there is some sympathy in the form of Dick, it turns out that Dick and Tim have a similar way of thinking (except where Tim imprinted on the two Robins, Dick imprinted on Bruce and Alfred) and the same recklessness. It’s Bruce that Jason finds himself bonding with (Is Jason weirded out by the fact that, of his siblings, Jason-with his supernaturally enhanced anger and the bag of heads- is the most stable? Yes, Yes it does) as he desperately tries to keep Tim from doing damage (both physical and psychic) other people.

#batman #batfam #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #tim drake is a menace #Tim Drake is feral #tim drake robin #Jason Tod is red hoo #dick grayson

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svt-luna · 2 months ago

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ʚིᵋ ⋆ NANA TOUR ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── episode 1-1.

Nana Tour with SEVENTEEN

synopsis: Episode 1-1! Don’t let SEVENTEEN know. SEVENTEEN’s Nana Tour begins with kidnapping shenanigans, preparation chaos, endless laughs, and the promise of an unforgettable European escapade.

we are officially off to Italy, my loves!!! prepare your boarding passes, take your seats, buckle your seatbelts, grab your snacks, and clear the next hour of your schedules because this is gonna be a long one!! i apologize this took long but… i don’t post short or half-assed content 😝 happy reading, my lovelies 🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST

╰ ౨ৎ fan reactions ╰ ౨ৎ nana tour masterlist

[added captions are in brackets] ღ

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

[‘NANA TOUR’ with SEVENTEEN]

[Together at Italy]

[Journey for six nights and seven days]

[Starts now]

It was a morning in September and the air outside the hotel near Tokyo Dome buzzed with the energy of SEVENTEEN’s final ‘Follow’ concert in Tokyo.

[2023.09.07 Japan Tokyo Dome]

Inside the hotel, the atmosphere was calm but focused, with the staff bustling around the floor occupied by the group. Among them, in his quiet room, S.Coups sat by the edge of the couch, a pair of crutches leaning against the sofa behind him. The weight of his injury— a cruciate ligament rupture in his ACL— was both physical and emotional.

Though he couldn’t perform onstage, he had been steadfast in supporting his members as the leader, ensuring morale stayed high despite his absence.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, making him glance up with a small chuckle. “Yes, come on in,” he called, his voice steady and warm despite his condition.

The door opened to reveal none other than PD Na, stepping inside with a broad smile. “Hello,” S.Coups greeted with a laugh as PD Na entered the room, trailed by a camera crew.

[An unexpected (?) reunion in Japan]

PD Na grinned, his presence lighting up the space as he moved closer, his expression shifting to one of concern. “What happened? Why did you get hurt?”

S.Coups could only manage a sad smile, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he gestured at the crutches. Slowly, he sat back down, motioning for PD Na to do the same. The cameramen adjusted their positions, capturing the interaction between the two.

“Are you alright?” PD Na asked, extending his hand as S.Coups shook it firmly.

“Yes,” S.Coups responded, his tone calm but tinged with resignation.

PD Na tilted his head, scrutinizing the leader with a mix of amusement and empathy.

“No. What is happening in Japan?” S.Coups said, leaning into the elephant in the room.

“I came, and SEVENTEEN is using this whole floor,” PD Na finally began.

“Yes,” S.Coups confirmed, smiling. “We blocked it off and we are using all of it.”

“Do you have an extra room?” PD Na quipped, feigning exasperation and making S.Coups laugh.

“You didn’t get a room?” S.Coups asked, amusement flickering in his voice.

“The hotel is nice,” PD Na said.

[PD Na is going to kidnap SEVENTEEN from this hotel]

PD Na then waved off the topic before moving on to the purpose of his visit. “Not too long ago, PD Shin came. Did you have no idea?”

S.Coups shook his head, honest confusion softening his features. “I didn’t know. Didn’t know at all,” he replied.

“Really?” PD Na pressed, narrowing his eyes in mock disbelief.

“Someone familiar was coming in…” S.Coups started, recalling the moment four hours earlier when PD Na’s staff had visited him to inform him of what was about to unfold. “‘Oh? Why are you here?’” he finished, shaking his head with a faint chuckle.

[After prior consultation with the director manager, ‘NANA TOUR’ staff stopped by suddenly]

The memory was still fresh, PD Na revealed a card bearing the logo of the show. He held it up in front of the camera, the crew panning in to capture the moment. “Here you… hold it,” PD Na instructed, extending the card toward S.Coups. Following his lead, S.Coups grasped the other end, the two of them posing dramatically for the camera.

“That way, the appearance fee will be going out,” PD Na remarked, his humor breaking through the seriousness of the moment. S.Coups laughed loudly, covering his face with one hand in embarrassment.

“But about you not coming because you hurt your leg…” PD Na started again, his tone turning lighthearted once more. “Proof of content might be sent to you.”

“Proof of content? Why?” S.Coups asked, his curiosity piqued as he chuckled.

“You got hurt when we’re supposed to go,” PD Na pointed out before letting out a wistful sigh. “To be honest, he wants to go so bad. To be honest, you needed to come with us. It would have been really nice to go together. I’m so sad about that.”

S.Coups nodded solemnly, understanding the sentiment but knowing there was no way around it. His recovery and rehabilitation were a priority, and even delaying the show wouldn’t have been enough for him to join.

S.Coups leaned back slightly, adjusting his posture to sit more comfortably while PD Na, perched on a chair across from him, exuded an air of casual amusement as he broached his next question.

“Do you normally talk about it? About ‘Youth Over Flowers’?” PD Na asked his tone light but laced with curiosity.

[Reason why PD Na worked this hard to come to Tokyo… during ‘Super’ promotions last time, SEVENTEEN won the chance to appear on “Youth Over Flowers”]

S.Coups let out a soft laugh, his hand instinctively brushing through his hair. “To be honest, we only said, ‘Won’t we be able to go?’” he admitted, his voice calm yet reflective.

PD Na tilted his head, gesturing lightly for S.Coups to elaborate.

“So,” S.Coups began, his gaze briefly dropping to his hands resting on his lap, “our album needs to come out and then, we need to do awards ceremonies and stuff.”

“You guys are busy,” PD Na acknowledged with a nod, his understanding tone tinged with admiration for their packed schedules.

“Eventually… we thought that it would just disappear,” S.Coups admitted, referring to the idea of Youth Over Flowers as a distant possibility.

“Wow… I didn’t know that we would go like this,” S.Coups marveled, his lips curving into a grin of genuine surprise.

“That’s good. The members have no idea,” PD Na pointed out, his grin growing wider as he observed S.Coups’ amusement.

“No clue,” S.Coups agreed, chuckling softly at the secrecy of the plan.

[Current situation other than S.Coups: SEVENTEEN has no idea]

“And even if we do it, they have no clue that it’s going to happen right now,” PD Na added, his tone almost conspiratorial.

S.Coups nodded again, the amusement still glinting in his eyes as the reality of what was about to happen started to settle in. The thought of how utterly unprepared the other members were brought a mischievous energy to the conversation.

[Thats why we worked harder in preparing perfectly]

The sheer level of deception involved had been intricate. Not only had the members been kept entirely in the dark, but even the bulk of their own staff had been left out of the loop. Only a couple of people— those directly involved in pulling off this feat— had been informed beforehand.

Their management team had gone so far as to create fake schedules for the upcoming weeks, meticulously designed to deflect any suspicion. Filming, recordings, practice, photoshoots, and even supposed downtime had all been fabricated to maintain the illusion of normalcy.

“What time is the meeting time?” PD Na asked, steering the conversation toward logistics. “Right now… five o’clock. Five in the morning,” he said, referring to the next day when the so-called “kidnapping” would take place.

[Expected time of members’ kidnapping]

“If it’s five in the morning, what is the situation that you expect?” PD Na asked, directing the question back to S.Coups.

[Tomorrow: 12 hours later]

The SEVENTEEN leader didn’t miss a beat. “Half of them would be drinking,” he answered matter-of-factly, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

PD Na sighed deeply, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “SEVENTEEN has problems. They have problems,” he said, his exasperated tone lightened by a chuckle.

S.Coups couldn’t hold back his laughter, the sound echoing warmly in the room. “Since the concert is over,” he reasoned, his smile still lingering.

“Who are the ones who would be drinking?” PD Na asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Mingyu…” S.Coups started, his tone thoughtful as he began listing names.

“Mingyu is big, so he would drink a lot too,” PD Na interjected, nodding knowingly.

“I think Mingyu would be drunk… Mingyu is definitely going to be drunk,” S.Coups said confidently before continuing, “But I think that all of them would be drinking today other than the ones who normally don’t drink. Other than Hoshi, Luna, and Woozi.”

PD Na hummed in agreement, processing the information. “I think we need to see the situation,” he said, his mind clearly running through possible scenarios.

“But I don’t think they would sleep,” S.Coups added, shaking his head slightly.

“I think we should see the situation at four in the morning,” PD Na planned aloud, nodding as if solidifying the strategy in his mind. “So, I’m going to drag them right away,” he added, his tone resolute.

“They’re not going to bring their bags anyway,” S.Coups remarked with a knowing smile. “Don’t you just drag them out and head out?”

[Vacation where they are dragged to nature]

PD Na chuckled. “I think out of the thirteen people… I think six of them are going to wear hotel slippers.”

“Mingyu only brought slippers right now,” S.Coups revealed, his tone carrying a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“How are the members’ conditions right now?” PD Na asked, leaning slightly forward. His voice was measured, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity, as though he were bracing himself for the possible chaos awaiting them.

[Q. SEVENTEEN’s condition]

S.Coups sighed, a thoughtful expression crossing his face before he spoke. “I’m worried about The8,” he said, his tone tinged with both amusement and concern.

PD Na’s brow furrowed, his head tilting in curiosity. “Why? Why The8?”

“He’s looking forward to it so much,” S.Coups explained, his words slow and deliberate as if choosing how best to phrase his thoughts as he referred to the fake show PD Na created for the two Chinese members. “He thinks he’s going with only Jun.”

[Hunter: See the Earth] [The8 is completely fooled by the fake program]

Understanding dawned on PD Na’s face, his lips curving into a slight smile as S.Coups continued.

“He’s so excited about going there right now,” S.Coups added, his voice softer this time, carrying a note of affection for his younger member.

PD Na let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “The room with The8 and Jun… I will go in while apologizing,” he said, his tone light but sincere, already imagining the scene.

“You need to do that. That’s not my problem. Not my problem,” S.Coups quipped, leaning back in his chair with a chuckle, clearly relishing the thought of being absolved of responsibility.

“No, as the leader… the members’ schedules and stuff… can’t you talk about it together?” PD Na retorted, narrowing his eyes slightly as if scolding him.

S.Coups raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t you not do that either? That’s what a PD does.”

“I don’t,” PD Na said, his voice rising just a fraction in mock indignation. But the way he avoided eye contact betrayed the lie. S.Coups caught it instantly and burst into laughter.

The act was futile; S.Coups’ hearty laughter filled the room, and even PD Na couldn’t hold back a grin anymore.

“When we go to Italy, I will always be beside The8’s group,” PD Na declared, trying to redeem himself as he straightened his posture. “I can do that,” he added confidently.

S.Coups, still chuckling, nodded in agreement.

“I can do that,” PD Na affirmed again, almost as if convincing himself. “I can just be his designated person.”

[Type of mental care]

The air between them lightened even further, both men now fully immersed in the fun of their scheming. PD Na leaned forward slightly, transitioning to a new topic. “Who will have the best reaction when they find out we’re going?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

[Q. Best reaction when they find out about ‘NANA TOUR’]

S.Coups didn’t hesitate, holding up his fingers as he began listing names. “Seungkwan, DK, Mingyu…”

“Mingyu is everywhere,” one of the producers interjected from the background, chuckling softly.

“To be honest, Mingyu is my one pick. My favorite,” S.Coups admitted with a grin, his voice playful but fond.

“Put Mingyu next to The8 no matter what,” PD Na said with mock seriousness. “I will have a good conversation with The8 and with Mingyu… I think I need to talk to him.”

S.Coups laughed again, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. “Other than The8…” one of the producers prompted, steering the conversation back.

[Q. Any other people we need to take care of?]

“Woozi,” S.Coups said without missing a beat. He leaned forward slightly, his expression thoughtful as he elaborated. “As for Woozi, you need to roll him around a lot. So, if you tell him it’s a free trip, he’s only going to sleep.”

“Workout and sleep, workout and sleep, workout and sleep,” S.Coups clarified, his tone resigned but amused as if this was a well-established fact about Woozi.

“Next to Mingyu and The8, put Woozi,” PD Na instructed, clearly taking mental notes.

“I think I need to also talk with Woozi,” PD Na added, earning another laugh from S.Coups.

PD Na then shifted gears, his gaze returning to S.Coups with an expectant look. “Anyone else?”

S.Coups paused, considering the question before nodding. “Hmm… Luna.”

“Really?” PD Na asked, his tone tinged with surprise.

“Yes. Please don’t lose her,” S.Coups chuckled, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

“Why would we lose her?” PD Na laughed, his amusement evident.

S.Coups’ expression turned playfully exasperated as he explained. “Jiyeonie loves to shop. She’s a shopaholic, really,” he said, leaning back in his chair as he spoke.

“Wherever and whenever we travel, she has to buy something… has to. Especially in places she hasn’t been to before… she’ll suddenly disappear and come back with bags of stuff, so you might lose her every now and then,” S.Coups elaborated, shaking his head with a small smile as he pictured it.

PD Na chuckled, nodding as he absorbed the information. “Alright… so my group would consist of The8, Mingyu, Woozi, and Luna,” he said, his tone final as if sealing the plan.

[PD Na’s babysitting service]

S.Coups nodded, a soft laugh escaping him as he imagined the chaos that group would undoubtedly bring. He folded his arms, his face thoughtful as he asked the next question. “But, what happens if they say they’re not going to go?” His voice carried the slightest hint of curiosity mixed with the playful intent to test PD Na’s resolve.

PD Na straightened slightly, his face betraying a flicker of surprise as he tried to anticipate where this was going.

S.Coups, sensing the moment, leaned forward, his tone deepening as he began re-enacting a hypothetical scenario. “‘I’m not going to go. Not going to go.’ Then?” He mimicked a defiant expression, complete with folded arms and a subtle pout, his voice slightly exaggerated for comedic effect.

The silence from PD Na’s end was palpable, leaving the production team in stifled laughter.

S.Coups raised an eyebrow, not letting him off the hook. “‘This is a schedule that wasn’t talked about. I’m not going to go.’ What if it’s like this?” he continued, shaking his head as though thoroughly exasperated by his members’ imaginary refusal.

PD Na, still struggling to find words, opened his mouth only to close it again, clearly unsure of how to respond.

[Unexpected turn they didn’t think about]

S.Coups smirked, relishing the moment as he delivered his next line with mock gravitas. “This is written in our contracts. ‘Must work only with the artist’s consent,’” he said, nodding knowingly as if he were quoting from the agreed-upon text of their contracts.

[All invalid if SEVENTEEN doesn’t agree]

PD Na finally regained his footing, leaning forward as though trying to reason with him. “Didn’t you guys agree then?” he asked, his tone pointed, clearly referencing the fact that SEVENTEEN had pitched the idea for the show months prior.

S.Coups tilted his head, his grin widening as he responded. “No. Because we don’t know we’re going now.”

PD Na narrowed his eyes, sensing a deliberate trap in S.Coups’ logic. The leader, however, wasn’t done. He raised his hand as though signaling for attention, continuing with yet another hypothetical. “What if they close the door and say, ‘I don’t want to go’?”

PD Na threw his head back with an exasperated laugh, shaking his head at the increasingly absurd scenarios S.Coups was presenting. “Then you and I… ‘Sorry guys, wait. Let’s talk about it.’ We need to do this.” He mimed knocking on an invisible door, his fist gently rapping the air as he assumed the role of a desperate negotiator.

The room erupted in laughter at PD Na’s exaggerated reenactment, but it was S.Coups who laughed the hardest.

PD Na, emboldened by the laughter, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “I will talk to Mingyu and tell him to carry the ones who won’t go out,” he said, his tone as serious as though it were the most practical solution in the world.

[Mingyu is versatile]

S.Coups slapped his thigh, unable to contain his amusement, as the staff chuckled in the background.

PD Na pressed on, fully committed to the bit. “I think he would carry them out, right?”

S.Coups nodded, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

The shared laughter seemed to echo, bouncing off the walls of the hotel suite. Despite the playful banter, it was clear that both men were already imagining the challenges— and the hilarity— of what awaited them in Italy.

[8 hours before kidnapping]

The Tokyo Dome glittered with a sea of lightsticks, their glowing hues creating a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the massive arena. The hum of anticipation from over fifty thousand Carats resonated through the walls, growing louder with each passing second.

The massive stage— set with sprawling platforms, dynamic screens, and hidden lifts— was ready for the night’s final show of SEVENTEEN’s Japan tour.

Above the stage, in a private suite tucked away in the shadows, S.Coups sat with his hands resting on the railing. His injury had sidelined him for months, but his heart raced just as it would before any performance.

Dressed simply yet stylishly, his sharp eyes followed every movement on stage. His pride in his members was evident in the way his gaze softened, a flicker of a smile appearing whenever one of them nailed their part or sent a wave of energy crashing over the crowd.

Over the next four hours, the group poured their hearts into every moment.

As the concert drew to a close with their iconic encore stages, the members ran through the audience platforms, interacting with fans up close. Sweat-drenched and glowing with adrenaline, they gave everything to the final performances, leaving nothing behind.

When the final bow came, they huddled together, thanking their fans for their unwavering support. As the lights dimmed and the cheers faded, the members exited the stage, utterly exhausted but brimming with satisfaction.

[The 4 hour long concert ended successfully]

By the time the clock struck 4:30 a.m., the Tokyo Dome had long since emptied, and the members had returned to their hotel rooms. Most of them were fast asleep, their energy drained from the grueling four-hour performance.

The quiet hum of Tokyo’s city lights filled the air as PD Na’s team gathered discreetly on SEVENTEEN’s hotel floor.

[Kidnapping operation begins]

PD Na’s plan was audacious —kidnapping SEVENTEEN without their prior knowledge.

It was all for the sake of their upcoming variety show, but the logistics were daunting. In a hotel room, PD Na’s crew briefed SEVENTEEN’s unsuspecting managers, performance directors, and staff on what was about to unfold.

The managers exchanged confused glances, their exhaustion from the concert evident in their expressions. One of them leaned forward, whispering to another, clearly baffled by the last-minute plan.

Then they were told a few of the members were still awake.

The answer came quickly— Hoshi, Joshua, Seungkwan, Dino, and Mingyu. They were gathered in one of the members’ hotel rooms, their laughter, muffled yet audible even from the hallway.

A quick check confirmed the situation: they weren’t just awake, they were fully immersed in a drunken rap battle.

[Some members are awake in the next room.]

The hours before the “kidnapping” grew tense as the logistical challenges became apparent. PD Na’s bold plan to capture SEVENTEEN off-guard relied on precision and timing, yet the group’s unexpected energy after their Tokyo concert threw a wrench into the carefully laid plans.

PD Na’s staff scrambled to adjust, unsure how to deal with the ongoing chaos in one of the rooms.

In the rest of the members’ suite, the atmosphere was the polar opposite of the sleepy stillness in the other rooms.

The impromptu drinking session had escalated into a spectacle of competitive hilarity.

Dino’s boisterous energy filled the room as he leaned into his over-the-top rap, his voice booming in the enclosed space. Hoshi, meanwhile, had abandoned all semblance of rhythm, choosing instead to dance along with a ferocity that sent Seungkwan into fits of laughter. Mingyu sprawled across the bed, egged everyone on with exaggerated applause, his flushed cheeks betraying just how much he had indulged.

Joshua, the most composed of the group, watched with an amused look on his face. It was a scene of pure, unfiltered chaos— the kind of moment that encapsulated the bond between the members.

Meanwhile, in the hotel’s staff quarters, PD Na and his team worked tirelessly to finalize the abduction strategy. They were acutely aware of the tight schedule; SEVENTEEN had to be moved without delay to ensure the surprise remained intact. The managers and performance staff, though initially confused, quickly aligned with the plan.

Still, the drunken antics in the other room loomed over the operation like a ticking time bomb. PD Na’s crew whispered urgently among themselves, trying to decide whether to intervene or wait for the chaos to die down.

Time was slipping away, and every passing second brought them closer to the moment when SEVENTEEN’s world would be upended.

Unbeknownst to the members still awake and their unsuspecting colleagues who were sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the whirlwind that awaited them.

The serene quiet of the early morning hours contrasted starkly with the storm brewing behind the scenes— a prelude to the kind of chaos only SEVENTEEN and PD Na could create together.

Once everything was meticulously set, PD Na began his elaborate plan with S.Coups as his willing accomplice.

[Creates a script]

The first step was to infiltrate the room where Mingyu, Hoshi, Seungkwan, Joshua, and Dino were still wide awake, their energy high despite the late hour. Laughter and loud chatter spilled into the hallway, mingled with the thumping bass of their makeshift speaker.

From outside, Dino’s exaggerated rapping could be heard clearly, his playful attempt to rhyme something nonsensical drawing cheers and jeers from the others.

S.Coups made the first move, strolling casually into their room. His presence didn’t raise suspicion; it wasn’t uncommon for him to check in, even late at night. He mentioned, nonchalantly, that he seemed to have misplaced his phone and wondered if anyone had seen it.

This immediately sent the group into a half-hearted search. Dino, eager to prove his helpfulness, grabbed his own phone and offered to call S.Coups’ number after their leader’s instructions.

While this was happening, Hoshi quietly slipped out of the room to head back to his own. As he turned the corner into the hallway, he froze mid-step, his eyes widening in disbelief as he came face-to-face with PD Na.

[Caught]

The realization dawned after a few seconds of complete and utter confusion— Hoshi was now a part of the plan, whether he liked it or not. PD Na motioned for silence with an exaggerated finger to his lips, and Hoshi, trying to mask his bewilderment, nodded before heading back into the room.

Inside, Dino tapped the call button on his screen, and the group waited, distractedly chatting while the phone rang. Then, instead of the usual muffled vibration from some forgotten corner, they were startled by a sudden burst of noise as their door flew open.

There enters PD Na, holding up S.Coups’ phone triumphantly by his ears, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. The sheer audacity of his entrance left them stunned for a moment, their brains scrambling to process the unexpected sight.

Confusion rippled through the room like a wave. Mingyu’s jaw dropped; Seungkwan’s expression flipped rapidly between shock and indignation; Joshua blinked as though trying to wake himself up from a dream; Dino, still holding his own phone, froze mid-laugh, his mouth agape as he ran to the other side of the room. S.Coups, meanwhile, sat casually on one of the chairs, arms crossed, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter as he drank in their reactions.

[on average, their souls are gone]

As PD Na began explaining, gesturing animatedly to catch everyone up on the absurdity of the situation, the pieces started to fall into place for the group. Disbelief gave way to reluctant acceptance, and soon they were swept up in the chaos, fully realizing they were now a part of whatever scheme PD Na had concocted that they initially asked for.

Excitement buzzed through the group as Seungkwan, Joshua, Dino, Mingyu, and Hoshi eagerly followed PD Na and S.Coups out of their room.

Their initial shock had been replaced by a shared giddiness as they whispered among themselves, plotting their next move. The energy in the air was infectious, as though they had suddenly been handed the script to a variety show episode and were ready to run with it. PD Na and S.Coups trailed behind, exchanging amused glances as the five concocted their plan with increasing enthusiasm.

Their next target was clear— DK, whose room was located at the far end of the hallway.

The group, already energized from their impromptu ‘Left & Right’ performance during the concert, decided that the best way to wake DK was with none other than his iconic part in the song.

The suggestion had come from Seungkwan, who barely managed to finish explaining the idea before the others began nodding fervently. Mingyu, ever the ringleader, gestured for them to form a quiet procession as they crept down the hallway, their voices hushed but full of excitement.

[SEVENTEEN’s group project]

When they reached DK’s door, their giddiness was barely contained. They exchanged hurried glances and silently counted down, their suppressed laughter threatening to give them away. Then, as if on cue, they burst into the room, flinging the door open and flipping on the lights.

The sudden brightness illuminated DK, who was buried under a thick duvet, his head barely visible. Startled by the commotion, his eyes shot open as the group launched into a raucous rendition of his signature lines. Their voices filled the room, loud and off-key, the chaos amplified by the cameramen who rushed in behind them to capture the moment.

[?]

DK sat upright, his hair tousled and his expression a mix of confusion and grogginess as he tried to process the unexpected intrusion. His wide-eyed gaze darted from face to face, lingering on the cameras before landing on PD Na, who was watching the scene unfold with a satisfied grin.

[Opened my eyes and SEVENTEEN is doing a show]

It took a few seconds for the realization to sink in, but once it did, DK’s confusion gave way to an enthusiastic gasp. His initial shock melted into pure delight as he kicked off his blankets and leaped out of bed, instantly joining the infectious energy of the group.

[Person who dances the second he woke up]

Now fully awake, DK seemed more than ready to take on the task of waking up the rest of the members. He quickly fell into step with the others, his cheerful demeanor adding to the boisterous atmosphere. The group, now six strong, made their way back into the hallway, their voices echoing as they brainstormed their next target and method of attack. PD Na and S.Coups followed at a leisurely pace, watching the chaos unfold with a sense of pride, knowing their plan was moving along flawlessly.

The group’s energy remained unwavering as they decided to tackle the next member on their list: Woozi.

Their excitement had grown to a fever pitch, and they eagerly followed PD Na, who was more than happy to play along with their antics. At their insistence, PD Na called Woozi, imitating the stern tone of their manager to catch him off guard. The members huddled around the doorway, muffling their laughter as they listened to the one-sided conversation that echoed faintly from within the room.

When the door finally swung open, they tiptoed inside, stifling their giggles as they took in the sight before them. Woozi lay on his bed, fully dressed, sprawled atop the neatly made covers. His small frame seemed even smaller against the pristine bedding, and the absurdity of the scene sent the group into loud fits of laughter.

[Sleeping on top of his covers]

Woozi stirred at the sound of their snickers, his eyes fluttering open, confusion etched across his face. His gaze landed on PD Na first, and a slow wave of realization washed over him as he took in the rest of the members and the cameramen who had poured into his room.

Barely giving him a moment to process, the group decided to keep the momentum going, urging him to join them as they moved on to their next target: Wonwoo.

The members practically bounced down the hall, despite their shock, their enthusiasm undiminished as they burst into the next room.

Inside, Wonwoo was a stark contrast to Woozi’s neat appearance. He was shirtless, still half-buried under a mound of blankets, his glasses nowhere to be found. The members erupted into laughter at the sight, their teasing filling the air as they rummaged through his things to hand him a shirt and his glasses.

[Mingyu’s t-shirt]

Wonwoo sat up slowly, blinking at them through a haze of grogginess. His confusion deepened as he spotted the cameras, and it wasn’t until PD Na began explaining the situation that understanding dawned on him.

As the explanation unfolded, the members couldn’t resist poking fun at the magazine cover that sat prominently displayed on the nightstand next to Wonwoo’s bed. The image of his own face staring back at him, perfectly styled and serious, stood in humorous contrast to his current disheveled state.

Their teasing grew louder, and even Wonwoo couldn’t help but crack a sleepy smile as he quickly pulled himself together to join the chaos.

With two more members now in tow, the group’s numbers swelled, and their energy became even more contagious as they prepared to wake the remaining members. The hallway seemed to come alive with their laughter and hushed planning, the anticipation for what lay ahead driving them forward with unrelenting excitement.

The next stop was Jun’s room, and as the group gathered in the hallway outside his door, there was a noticeable pause. PD Na hesitated, his usual confidence briefly faltering.

Jun was one of the two members he had spun a fabricated tale about, concocting a fake show with The8 that neither of them would actually be attending.

Breaking the news to Jun, especially in his groggy, just-woken-up state, was a challenge PD Na wasn’t particularly eager to face. Still, with the momentum building, the group decided to press forward, pushing the door open quietly to keep the element of surprise.

The room was dark and still, save for the faint outline of Jun resting peacefully. A simple flick of the light switch was all it took to stir him. His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the brightness, and for a moment, he seemed caught in a buffering loop, his mind attempting to catch up with the scene before him.

[Buffering]

The members stood scattered around the room, their energy barely contained as they suppressed laughter at his dazed expression. PD Na stepped forward, his demeanor unusually cautious as he began explaining the truth.

Despite the initial apprehension, Jun took the news remarkably well. His expression shifted from confusion to amusement, and there was even a hint of relief as he processed that the entire group would be going together.

The thought of being part of a team effort, rather than separated into a fictional schedule, seemed to sit well with him. Soon, he was out of bed and ready to join the growing crowd in the hallway.

Next on the list was Vernon’s room, which proved to be the most challenging one yet. As they approached, muffled sounds from within suggested that Vernon was still awake.

The group exchanged amused glances, already sensing that this might not go as smoothly as the previous attempts. True to their instincts, Vernon was less than enthusiastic when they tried to enter. He was immediately suspicious, assuming it was some elaborate prank, and flatly refused to let them in.

It was Seungkwan who took it upon himself to handle the situation. He stepped into the room alone, the door clicking shut behind him.

The rest of the group waited anxiously in the hallway, straining to hear the muffled conversation that followed. After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, and Seungkwan emerged, gesturing for the others to follow. Vernon’s reluctance was still evident as they entered, hs entire body hidden beneath the covers.

[Shy]

The reason for Vernon’s hesitance became clear almost immediately. He mentioned the state he was in. He hadn’t even bothered to remove his makeup from the concert the previous night, and his face still bore the smudged remnants of eyeliner and foundation. He was dressed in nothing but the hotel robe, and his room, though not particularly messy, lacked the organized chaos that usually defined him.

His protests were met with teasing laughter as the group handed him a change of clothes, urging him to get ready while PD Na explained the situation.

Eventually, Vernon’s resistance melted away, replaced by resigned amusement. Once dressed and up to speed, he joined the group as they moved on to their next target, their numbers now swelling with each successful “recruitment.”

The hallway buzzed with their collective energy, each new addition fueling the excitement as they prepared to wake the remaining members.

The group approached Jeonghan’s room, in anticipation. Jeonghan was known among them for being a sensitive sleeper, the kind who woke up at the faintest disturbance. Armed with their new “manager” strategy, they gestured for PD Na to lead the charge. Slowly, the door creaked open, and the dim light from the hallway cast faint shadows inside.

The second PD Na stepped in and called out for him, his voice mimicking a manager’s authoritative tone, Jeonghan shot up, startling awake. He blinked rapidly, his expression a mixture of confusion and alertness, his disoriented gaze darting around the room as he processed the situation. The unexpected voice of a “manager” telling him it was time to go seemed to short-circuit his usual groggy wake-up routine.

The members, unable to contain themselves, pushed into the room, laughter erupting as they turned on the lights. Jeonghan, still halfway out of his bed, froze for a moment, his hand brushing through his disheveled hair as he spotted PD Na standing by the door.

[The little mermaid]

Realization dawned on him, and the ever-quick-witted Jeonghan smoothly played along, causing the room to burst into louder laughter. His dry humor cut through the sleepy atmosphere like clockwork, instantly reminding everyone why he was so good at these impromptu situations.

The teasing escalated when someone spotted a familiar glossy magazine cover perched beside Jeonghan’s neatly organized bedside. There it was: a striking image of Jeonghan himself, staring confidently from the front page of his recent cover shoot.

The group erupted into another round of laughter, poking fun at the fact that, even in his sleep, Jeonghan was surrounded by his own brilliance. He remained unbothered by their antics, firing off deadpan retorts that only made them laugh harder.

Despite just being woken up, Jeonghan moved with an effortless composure, already one step ahead of everyone in his usual laid-back yet sharp manner. He joined the growing crowd without resistance, adding his own sarcastic flair to the chaos.

The group lingered in Jeonghan’s room for a while, the energy still vibrant as they reflected on the chaos of waking up their bandmates. Seated on the bed and scattered around the room, their conversations gradually shifted to planning their next move.

“Wait, how many do we have right now?” PD Na asked, his gaze scanning the members. His attempt to count them was met with various half-hearted attempts to stand still, though none were successful.

There were twelve of them in total, which left only two more members unaccounted for.

“There’s Minghao and Jiyeon left,” Hoshi pointed out. The others murmured in agreement, their focus sharpening now that the next targets were clear.

[12 out of 14 members]

“Let’s wake up Jiyeonie noona first,” Seungkwan declared with conviction.

“Right. Let’s leave Minghao huyng last. Noona first,” Dino agreed with a firm nod.

“Luna? Alright. I’m still trying to build up the courage to face The8,” PD Na admitted with a sheepish laugh.

His confession caused a ripple of laughter to spread through the room. Jeonghan, however, tilted his head in confusion, clearly out of the loop.

“You know, The8… him going with Jun…” Mingyu began to explain, gesturing vaguely as he searched for the right words.

“That’s this,” Woozi interjected dryly, saving Mingyu from further struggle.

Jeonghan gasped theatrically, his body falling on his bed as if he’d been personally betrayed. “I was so jealous,” he admitted, drawing a round of chuckles from the others.

“We’re still thinking about what to tell Minghao,” Mingyu added, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Let’s worry about that later,” Seungkwan interjected, his voice laced with urgency. “We have to face another big problem first.”

PD Na turned to Seungkwan, his brows furrowing as confusion clouded his expression. “What?”

“Waking up noona,” Seungkwan said, the words chorusing with Jeonghan, who echoed with, “Waking up Jiyeonie.”

The rest of the members immediately broke into laughter, nodding in agreement. Their collective understanding of what lay ahead was almost palpable.

“Aigo-ya…” Joshua chuckled, shaking his head.

[Is it that serious?]

“Why?” PD Na asked, his confusion deepening as he glanced from one amused face to another.

“Let’s just say that if you want to be cussed at in both Korean and English, then you should wake up Jiyeonie noona,” Seungkwan explained, his words causing a fresh wave of laughter to erupt. Nods and murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.

[Can’t wait]

“Really? She’ll be that mad at me?” PD Na asked, his voice tinged with nervous curiosity.

“No. She’ll be mad for a few seconds only,” S.Coups reassured him, leaning on his crutches.

“She’ll get over it quickly,” Wonwoo added with a small shrug.

“Jiyeonie prioritizes her sleep,” Mingyu pointed out with a chuckle.

“Na PD…” DK laughed, pointing sympathetically at him as if to preemptively console him for what he was about to endure.

“She sets an alarm for everything, and she’s very disciplined. So she’ll wake up if needed, but… she has no reason to wake up this early,” Jeonghan explained, his words trailing off into a soft chuckle.

“You’re sure she’ll be asleep, right?” PD Na’s hesitant expression did not go unnoticed.

“She will be sleeping a hundred percent.” Jeonghan nodded.

“She will also cuss us out a hundred percent.” Mingyu chuckled.

[Prediction]

“Let’s just go. We’ll figure it out,” Seungkwan declared, his mock exasperation earning him a few chuckles as he waved everyone to start moving.

“Alright…” PD Na agreed reluctantly, pushing himself to move as the group began to shuffle out of Jeonghan’s room.

“Jiyeonie’s room is next to mine,” Jeonghan said, allowing Seungkwan to pin a mic to his shirt as they prepared to leave. He chuckled softly as he joined the others heading out. “I have plans when I go back. I guess that’s all a lie,” Jeonghan quipped, earning a few chuckles from the members around him.

[Lies everywhere]

“I was worried yesterday,” he continued, his tone thoughtful for a moment before his expression turned deadpan. “Guys, is the typhoon… a lie too?” Jeonghan asked his joke causing S.Coups and Seungkwan to burst out laughing as they made their way out of the room.

[Doesn't know who to trust]

The atmosphere shifted slightly as they approached the room next to Jeonghan’s. The animated energy was replaced by a noticeable hesitation, with the group slowing their pace.

[Terrified]

“You guys…” PD Na began, chuckling nervously as he noticed their hesitation. “What happened?”

“No one wants to go in,” S.Coups explained with a chuckle, leaning casually on his crutches at the back of the group.

“Na PD… fighting!” Dino whispered with a mischievous grin, his words earning quiet chuckles from the rest of the group.

“You can do it!” DK chimed in, his encouragement was lighthearted but clearly teasing.

“I… don’t know… do I just go in?” PD Na asked, his uncertainty evident as he eyed the door.

Jeonghan stepped forward gently, placing himself in front of PD Na with a quick yet firm interjection. “No, no, no. I’ll go check on her first. You guys follow,” he said calmly, his hand reaching out to press against the door to Luna’s room.

[Leads the gameplan]

His tone left little room for argument, and the members exchanged subtle nods, understanding his intention without question.

“Alright. You go first, we’ll follow behind you,” Seungkwan agreed, giving Jeonghan a light nudge toward the door, an almost conspiratorial smile playing on his lips.

PD Na blinked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why Jeonghan?” he asked, his gaze flicking between the members, clearly puzzled.

There was a brief, wordless exchange among the members— a series of knowing looks and slight smirks that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

Finally, Seungkwan broke the silence, his voice matter-of-fact but laced with humor. “He’s the least likely to get cussed at.”

[Benefits]

The room filled with soft chuckles as Seungkwan handed Jeonghan the master key. With a quiet nod of thanks, Jeonghan carefully unlocked the door and pushed it open just enough to slip inside.

The dim light of the room revealed little at first, just the vague outline of the bed in the center. The rest of the group— PD Na, the crew, and the members— lingered near the door, waiting for Jeonghan’s signal before entering.

As Jeonghan moved closer to the bed, his steps were slow and deliberate, his gaze softening as he caught sight of the lump beneath the duvet— a clear indication that Luna was still deeply asleep. Her breathing was even, the covers rising and falling gently.

From the door, Mingyu’s quiet whisper broke the stillness. “Cute,” he giggled, prompting a few amused chuckles from the others.

Jeonghan crouched down beside the bed, his movements fluid and unhurried, as though not to disturb even the air around her. His hand reached out to gently caress her back through the duvet. “Nana-ya,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but tender, like a breeze brushing against her dreams.

Luna remained unmoving, her face still buried against the pillow, utterly undisturbed by the soft call. Her features, peaceful and relaxed, held Jeonghan’s attention for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze lingering as if memorizing every detail.

[Sleeping beauty]

From the door, S.Coups leaned slightly toward PD Na and whispered, “She’s the complete opposite of Jeonghan when it comes to sleeping, really.”

PD Na’s curiosity was piqued. “Really?”

“Jeonghannie is a sensitive sleeper,” S.Coups explained with a small grin, “Jiyeonie… can sleep through an apocalypse.”

Jeonghan, oblivious to their conversation, lowered his head closer to Luna’s ear. “Nana-ya…” he whispered again, his voice a fraction more insistent but still gentle.

When there was no response, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, a fleeting gesture of affection hidden safely from the cameras in the dim light. His hand moved to her hair, his fingers brushing through it delicately, coaxing her awake.

This time, Luna stirred slightly, her face scrunching up into a small pout as a faint hum escaped her lips. Her eyes remained shut, her body shifting just enough to show she was on the edge of waking.

[Shuffle… shuffle… shuffle]

Jeonghan turned to the others, his expression calm but subtly signaling for them to approach. With a collective nod, the group began to inch into the room, their steps quiet but filled with anticipation.

Dino, perhaps out of instinct or a moment of misplaced confidence, reached for the light switch near the door and flicked it on.

The sudden brightness flooded the room, instantly halting everyone in their tracks. Dino froze, his hand still on the switch, his face a mix of panic and realization as the members turned to him in unison.

Jeonghan’s wide eyes snapped toward them, the incredulous look on his face enough to send a ripple of suppressed laughter through the group.

[Why would you do that?]

“Ya!” Seungkwan whisper-yelled, his hand smacking the back of Dino’s head lightly.

“She’s gonna kill us,” Mingyu muttered through a whisper-laugh, shaking his head.

“I realized the second I turned it on,” Dino admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

The sudden light had done its job— because the only thing Luna hates more than being woken up is being woken up by turning on the lights.

From under the duvet, Luna shifted again, this time with more intention. Though her eyes remained shut, her mouth opened, and her groggy voice cut through the tension. “What the fuck are you fuckers up to?” she muttered groggily, her tone laced with annoyance, the curse drawing a mix of sheepish chuckles and mock-cringes from the members.

[Prediction was correct]

A few covered their mouths, trying not to laugh too loudly, while PD Na stood on the other side of the bed, equal parts amused and shy at the unexpected situation.

Luna’s reaction, though predictably fiery, had everyone barely holding back laughter as they waited for her to fully wake up.

Jeonghan still crouched beside Luna’s bed, remained calm and patient as he softly called out again, “We need to go, Nana-ya.” His voice was as gentle as a feather, coaxing her out of her slumber without startling her.

Under the duvet, Luna stirred slightly, her face scrunching into a small frown. Her voice, muffled by the pillow, came out groggy and laced with annoyance. “I’m not in the mood for your guys’ games. Go where?” she muttered, clearly thinking she was being teased— technically, she wasn’t wrong.

On her other side, PD Na, now standing awkwardly by the right side of her bed, decided to intervene, his voice breaking the soft tension. “Remember, this was part of the promise, Luna,” he said, his tone calm yet prompting.

The reaction was immediate.

Even though her eyes remained closed, Luna’s eyebrows furrowed deeply at the unfamiliar voice.

Slowly, she turned to her right, her sleepy brain struggling to register who it was. Squinting as she opened her eyes, she saw a figure she vaguely recognized, but her grogginess mixed with her expectation to see Jeonghan left her disoriented.

[Peakaboo]

Her heart raced at the sight of what her half-asleep mind processed as a stranger hovering near her bed.

Without hesitation, Luna’s hand darted out, grabbing her phone from the pillow beside her. With as much force as she could muster in her half-conscious state, she weakly flung it at the unfamiliar figure— PD Na.

The startled squeal that escaped her lips was cute but tinged with genuine alarm as she instinctively threw herself to her left side, where Jeonghan was still crouched. The sudden movement caught Jeonghan off guard, but his reflexes kicked in, and he quickly caught her as she practically fell into his arms.

[Bunny hopped off the bed]

“Whoa!” Jeonghan exclaimed softly as he absorbed the impact, the two of them toppling slightly before landing on the floor with a muted thud.

Luna buried her face against Jeonghan’s neck, her arms wrapping tightly around him as though he were her lifeline. His laughter was low and comforting as he adjusted his position to hold her securely, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other hand soothingly caressed her back.

Jeonghan placed a hand at the back of her neck, gently cradling her. “Jiyeon-ah, are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of affection as he whispered into her ear.

Luna let out a small whine, her voice muffled against Jeonghan’s shoulder but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Who was that?”

[It’s PD Na]

The room, already tense with suppressed laughter, burst into chuckles at her adorably dramatic reaction.

S.Coups was the first to speak, his laugh hearty as he called out, “Ya! Bae Jiyeon, are you okay?”

“Oh no, noona…” Seungkwan chuckled, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and worry.

“What was that?” Jun added, shaking his head, his grin wide as he leaned against the foot of the bed.

Dokyeom, ever the empath but unable to hold back his laughter, pointed an accusing finger at PD Na. “You scared her!” he said, still chuckling as PD Na stood there, looking thoroughly sheepish with Luna’s phone now in his hands.

“Noona! Noona, are you okay?” Dino called out, concern lacing his voice even as he laughed. He and Mingyu quickly moved to where Jeonghan was still holding Luna protectively.

Mingyu crouched down, a teasing smile on his face as he gently reached for Luna, who remained glued to Jeonghan’s neck. “Lulu-ya… what was that?” he asked, his tone lighthearted as he carefully slipped his hands under her arms. With little to no effort, he lifted her off Jeonghan and placed her back onto the bed.

Luna, now fully awake and fully embarrassed, immediately covered her face with her hands, groaning softly. The room filled with laughter again, the members clearly enjoying the unexpected chaos.

Dokyeom, Mingyu, Dino, and Jeonghan were quick to move. Noticing that Luna was only wearing an oversized sweater and shorts, all four men instinctively reached for the duvet, pulling it up to cover her bare legs. Jeonghan was the last to step back, his hands lingering for a second longer to tuck the blanket around her gently.

With her face still buried in her hands, Luna’s hair fell forward in a curtain, shielding her flushed cheeks from view.

Hoshi, sitting casually at the foot of her bed, chuckled softly, his laughter infectious as he reached over and gave her head a gentle pat. “That was amazing. That was the best one,” he said, still grinning as his hand lingered for a moment, ruffling her hair lightly before retreating.

[She wins a the best reaction]

Nearby, PD Na, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with a mix of guilt and amusement, took a careful step toward her. His expression softened, and he spoke in a deliberately slow and calming voice, clearly hoping to avoid startling her again. “Luna-ya… it’s PD Na,” he said gently, his tone almost apologetic.

The members burst into laughter at his cautious approach, some doubling over at how timid PD Na had suddenly become.

Luna peeked out from between her fingers, her eyes narrowing slightly as she turned her head toward the sound of his voice.

When she finally saw him standing there, her embarrassment flared anew. Realization dawned on her face as she took in his familiar features, and she quickly glanced up, her gaze darting to the foot of her bed, where the members were gathered, and then toward the cameras and crew positioned behind them.

Her mortification deepened. With a soft groan, she buried her face even further into her knees, muffling a string of unintelligible words as the laughter around her grew louder.

“Jiyeonie, are you okay?” DK asked through his chuckles, leaning forward slightly as if to gauge her reaction.

Luna lifted her face just enough to let her voice be heard. Her tone was dry, laced with her signature deadpan humor. “Next time, just send me an email,” she muttered, her delivery so perfectly timed it sent the entire room into another fit of laughter.

“What do I do?,” Mingyu said, clutching his stomach. “Shes so cute, she’s killing me.”

Woozi smirked, shaking his head as he muttered, “I can’t believe her.”

Still hiding her face, Luna’s shoulders shook slightly, a small laugh escaping her lips despite her obvious embarrassment. After a moment, she seemed to steel herself. Slowly, she lifted her head from her knees, turning to face the team and the cameras.

Despite the way her messy hair framed her face in a halo of chaos and the obvious signs of sleep still lingering in her expression, she radiated a natural beauty that seemed effortless.

[Sleeping beauty pt. 2]

“Aigo, pretty… you’re pretty,” Wonwoo remarked simply, nodding as if stating a universal truth.

“How annoying,” Joshua chimed in, his dry humor adding to the hilarity of the moment.

The room erupted into laughter again as Luna sighed, her lips quirking up in a reluctant smile. She turned her attention to PD Na, who still stood nearby, her hair still falling messily around her face. “Hello,” she said politely, bowing her head slightly.

PD Na returned her bow, his own smile sheepish as he chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, holding out her phone, which he had retrieved from the floor after the earlier chaos.

Luna accepted it, her fingers curling around the device as she glanced up at him. Without missing a beat, she deadpanned, “I’m not. You scared me.” Her delivery was sharp and quick, causing another round of laughter to ripple through the room.

The fact that she was referring to her earlier attempt at self-defense with the phone only made it funnier.

As the laughter died down, Luna turned toward the cameras. Shyness flickered across her face as she dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment, offering the crew a small, polite bow.

Then, as if seeking refuge, she turned back toward Jeonghan, her back to the cameras and the rest of the team.

Luna’s gaze met his, wide and pleading. She didn’t say a word, but the look she gave him spoke volumes. Jeonghan, ever perceptive, understood immediately what she was asking of him.

Without hesitation, he reached out, his fingers brushing gently against her hair as he tucked a few stray strands behind her ears. His movements were deliberate and tender, his touch careful as he made sure she looked presentable.

“Thank you,” Luna muttered softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced at him briefly, her gratitude evident in her expression before she turned back to face the cameras.

Lifting her hand in a small, shy wave, Luna tried to smile through her lingering embarrassment. “‘Noona, you’re so pretty~’,” Dino sang teasingly from the foot of the bed, drawing out the words in a playful tone.

He was immediately joined by Seungkwan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi, who harmonized in mock unison, their voices loud and exaggerated. “‘Crazy. Replay, replay, replay~!’”

Luna couldn’t help it. She giggled, the sound light and genuine as she raised her hand to cover her mouth. Her laughter only grew when Seungkwan deadpanned, “Aigo… look at her… as if she wasn’t cussing us out earlier.”

[The duality]

The room erupted into chaos again as the members doubled over, some clutching their stomachs while others pointed at Luna, teasing her. She shook her head, trying to contain her laughter as she hid her face in her hands once more, the warmth of the moment wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.

PD Na, still standing at the side of the room, cleared his throat and looked at Luna, his voice calm but slightly tinged with anticipation. “Luna, do you know why I am here?”

Without hesitation, Luna replied with clarity, her tone steady despite her earlier grogginess. “‘Youth Over Flowers,’” she said, fully understanding the situation now. Her expression shifted as she did a quick headcount of the room. Noticing something amiss, she tilted her head slightly. “Am I the last one? Is everyone here?”

Her eyes roamed the room until she realized someone was missing. “Where is Hao-hao?” she asked, her brows knitting together in mild confusion.

“He’s the last one because…” Seungkwan began, pausing mid-sentence to turn toward PD Na, leaving the explanation to him.

Luna’s gaze followed Seungkwan’s, settling on PD Na, who suddenly looked a little guilty. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What is it?” she asked, suspicion creeping into her tone.

“The show Minghao and I were going to…” Jun began hesitantly, his voice trailing off.

“…Is it this?” Luna finished, the realization hitting her like a wave. Multiple nods from the group confirmed her suspicions.

Her eyes widened as she turned to Jeonghan for confirmation, needing one last reassurance. When he nodded solemnly, she gasped softly, her voice tinged with disbelief. “It was fake?”

She turned back to PD Na, her tone playful yet accusatory. “Wah… that’s mean.”

Her response earned a chorus of chuckles from the members. Even Luna herself let out a small laugh, her incredulity giving way to amusement.

[Very mean]

“Aigo… Hao was looking forward to it the most,” she said with a pout, a hint of sympathy in her voice.

“That’s life,” Seungkwan said, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation.

“But what do we do with our title choreography? Our music video…” Hoshi asked, his voice trailing off as the realization dawned on him.

“Oh! We’ll probably do it there,” Seungkwan interjected, maintaining his exaggerated tone.

“They said that you are doing it there,” S.Coups announced, his voice cutting through the chatter with authority.

“Really?” Luna and Dokyeom said in unison, their surprise echoing off the walls.

“I don’t know. Whatever, let’s just go there and do it,” Hoshi said, dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand, his casual demeanor lightening the mood further.

“What about going into Minghao’s room clapping?” Joshua suggested, bringing the conversation back on track with a mischievous smile.

[Starts planning]

“‘Minghao-ya, congratulations’,” Joshua acted out, clapping his hands together dramatically.

“‘Congratulations! You’re going now!’” Seungkwan followed suit, his exaggerated tone and enthusiastic clapping drawing laughter from everyone.

“‘Have a safe trip.’ Yes,” Jeonghan added, his laughter ringing out as he joined in on the teasing.

“I feel bad,” Luna said with a pout, though the chuckle that followed betrayed her amusement.

“That’s how he won’t be disappointed,” Seungkwan reasoned, earning nods of agreement from the others.

“But you guys go first,” PD Na instructed, his tone shifting to something more logistical. He gestured toward the door before adding, “Yes, let’s go in there clapping instead.”

“Nice. Yes, let’s hide it,” Jeonghan agreed, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” PD Na said, ushering everyone toward the door. The group began to file out, their movements hushed yet buzzing with excitement.

Luna slowly swung her legs off the bed, hesitating as she pushed herself up. Her footing faltered, and she stumbled slightly, only to feel a steadying hand on her arm. Jeonghan was immediately at her side, his grip firm but gentle. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice low.

As she steadied herself, Jeonghan busied himself pinning a mic to her hoodie. His movements were careful, and precise, as he ensured everything was secure.

“This show is already too intense for me,” Luna muttered, making Jeonghan chuckle softly.

The two shared a brief glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Luck had been on their side.

Only last night, Luna had been in Jeonghan’s room, the two of them planning to sleep together like they always did during these trips. But after her shower, she had ended up falling asleep in her own room due to exhaustion.

If the camera crew had caught them together, especially with their relationship still a secret from the public, it would have been a disaster. No one knew about them aside from their families and the members. That thought alone sent a quiet ripple of relief through both of them.

Jeonghan adjusted the mic one last time, smoothing the fabric of her hoodie as he stepped back. “Ready?” he asked softly.

Luna nodded, taking a deep breath. With one last glance at Jeonghan, she followed the group, the anticipation of what awaited them next sparking a mix of nerves and excitement within her.

The group moved together down the hall, their footsteps soft against the hotel carpet, yet their quiet murmurs of disbelief filled the air. Luna shuffled behind the others, her oversized sweater swaying slightly with her steps, the sleeves almost completely hiding her hands.

Noticing Wonwoo walking closest to her, she made her way to his side. Without a word, she reached out, gently grabbing his arm and lifting it slightly before squeezing herself into his side. Her arms wrapped securely around his waist, and she rested her face against his torso. Wonwoo caught off guard for only a second, smiled softly and let his arm fall around her shoulders, holding her close as they trailed behind the rest of the group.

“I’m so excited,” Seungkwan said, his voice brimming with anticipation.

Jun chuckled, still shaking his head in disbelief. “In the beginning, PD Na being in front of me… I didn’t believe it. ‘What? What is this?’”

“Really awesome, really,” Hoshi added, his tone filled with admiration.

“They fooled us all,” Dino chimed in from beside him.

“I didn’t expect it at all,” Hoshi admitted, nodding as if to emphasize his point.

“They fooled us all,” Dino repeated, laughing lightly as they finally reached Minghao’s door.

“No one can beat Jiyeonie,” S.Coups chuckled from the back, the comment earning a soft laugh from Luna, who felt Wonwoo gently squeeze her shoulder in silent agreement.

“I thought I was gonna get kidnapped for real,” Luna muttered, her tone dry but playful enough to make the group chuckle.

[Scared for her life]

“I talked about this with Dokyeom,” Jeonghan said as they stood just outside Minghao’s door.

“I know,” Dokyeom replied with a nod.

“At the concert,” Jeonghan clarified, turning slightly toward Luna.

“Really?” Luna asked, looking at both of them curiously.

“Really did. We talked about this,” Dokyeom confirmed with another nod.

The four of them— Jeonghan, Dokyeom, Luna, and Wonwoo— formed a small huddle just outside the group, their voices lowering slightly as they continued their conversation.

“When the rehearsal doors open, PD Na… he will be there,” Jeonghan said, gesturing with his hand as if painting a vivid image of the scenario.

“That would have been insane,” Luna replied, her voice filled with quiet awe as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“But wouldn’t it be better to have PD Na go first?” Hoshi suggested, glancing toward the still-closed door.

“Go ahead,” Seungkwan said, motioning toward PD Na with a smirk.

“No, no, no,” Jeonghan cut in, shaking his head. “Seungkwan, go first. ‘The8, safe travels,’” he suggested, imitating how Seungkwan might say it.

A beat passed before Jeonghan changed his mind entirely. “If people go in one at a time, it takes too much time. Let’s just go in together,” he concluded, his tone final but the quick shift earning laughter from everyone around him.

“What was that?” Luna giggled, glancing up at Dokyeom as she grabbed his hand, absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

“Didn’t his opinion change three times in one sentence?” PD Na asked, a chuckle escaping him as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Jeonghan is really flexible,” PD Na added, the comment prompting another round of chuckles.

“Let’s go,” Dino said, eager to move the plan along.

“Then… let’s say, ‘Yoo Yeon-Seok is here,’ and you come in,” Seungkwan suggested, pointing at Jeonghan with a mischievous grin.

“That’s too long. Too long,” Mingyu interjected, his practical side kicking in.

“Just clap and go in. Clap and go in,” Dino said, his tone straightforward as he waved a hand to dismiss any overcomplicated plans.

“Simple. Go simple,” Woozi added with a small nod of approval.

Seungkwan, unable to hide his mock exasperation, nodded his head dramatically before moving toward the door, master key in hand. The rest of the group fell silent, anticipation buzzing as they waited for him to unlock it.

Seungkwan pushed the door open with a dramatic flair, revealing Minghao’s dimly lit room. The members slowly trickled in, the quietness of the space amplifying their anticipation. It was serene, with only the sound of soft breathing breaking the silence.

Without hesitation, Seungkwan reached for the light switch and flicked it on. The sudden brightness filled the room, and he immediately began clapping loudly.

[Loud]

“Wow!” Joshua exclaimed.

“Congratulations!” Seungkwan cheered, his enthusiasm setting the tone as the others joined in, clapping and calling out in unison.

“The8, congratulations!” multiple voices chorused, their tone playful yet celebratory.

Luna stepped in last, her hand instinctively covering her mouth in second-hand embarrassment. “This is such a terrible way to wake up… it’s so loud,” she chuckled, shaking her head but clearly amused.

[The only one who feels bad]

On the bed, Minghao stirred, his movements sluggish as he sat up, squinting in confusion. His hair was tousled, and his expression was a mixture of grogginess and bewilderment.

“With PD Na’s choice…” Seungkwan began in a mock host-like voice, his hands gesturing theatrically.

Minghao’s gaze shifted, landing on PD Na standing amidst the group. He immediately bowed politely, his voice soft. “Oh, hello.”

The members burst into laughter at his innocent reaction.

“The8 is leaving!” Mingyu declared, jumping in to continue Seungkwan’s hosting act.

The room erupted into another round of applause as they surrounded the still-confused Minghao.

“Did you sleep well?” PD Na asked, his tone kind yet teasing.

“You need to wake up. You need to go with Jun,” Seungkwan said, tossing Minghao’s clothes toward the bed with a grin.

Still groggy and slightly disoriented, Minghao blinked at the clothing pile. “Wait. Put on something,” PD Na urged, gesturing toward Minghao, who was clearly still bare under the covers.

“Are we going now?” Minghao asked innocently, his voice laced with confusion as he tried to process what was happening.

Luna, standing between Dokyeom and Mingyu, couldn’t help but pout and chuckle. “Aigo-ya… what do we do?” she said softly, her eyes full of amusement.

“To be honest, Minghao… there’s something I need to apologize to you about…” PD Na began hesitantly, his tone turning more serious.

“What is it?” Minghao asked, his voice gentle as he looked at PD Na, his sincerity making Luna whisper under her breath, “What do I do? Hao’s so cute.”

PD Na hesitated again, his nervousness palpable. “Oh…”

[Hesitant]

“PD, you’re too hesitant,” Woozi interjected, laughing quietly as the others chuckled along.

Finally, PD Na gathered himself. “Minghao, to be honest… the thing that Jun and you are supposed to go to… th–that… was a lie.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as they all watched Minghao’s reaction. His gaze flickered between PD Na and the members, his expression blank as he began piecing everything together.

“All together?” he finally asked, his tone confused tentative yet starting to catch on.

“We are all going together,” PD Na confirmed, a smile creeping onto his face.

The members burst into laughter at Minghao’s expression. While he smiled back at them, it was clear his reaction was forced, his lips slightly stiff, and his eyes betraying the amused frustration he felt.

“That’s this,” PD Na continued, explaining the situation further as Minghao wordlessly and soundlessly clapped, his movements robotic.

“It’s fake… fake…” a couple of voices muttered together, the room filled with laughter as they teased him.

“No, no. It’s okay. It’s good,” Minghao finally said, smiling again as he reassured PD Na with a calm yet resigned tone.

“It’s okay, right? You are going. All together,” PD Na said, trying to soothe any lingering disappointment.

“It’s a good opportunity,” Minghao replied, but his words only made the group laugh harder at his attempts to stay positive.

Dokyeom and Mingyu, standing on either side of Luna, each grabbed one of her arms, pulling her toward them as they playfully hugged her and mock-cried.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no. Minghao cry, cry, cry,” they wailed dramatically, leaning against her for added effect.

[97z teasing 97z]

Luna grinned, her chuckle soft and affectionate. Being the oldest of the 97 line, this dynamic with Dokyeom and Mingyu— playful and chaotic— was something she was more than used to, especially since Minghao was the youngest among the four of them.

“Minghao, it’s… it’s okay, right?” PD Na asked again, still wanting to ensure there were no hard feelings.

“Oh, it’s good,” Minghao reassured with another smile.

“All together,” PD Na explained again, prompting Mingyu to burst out laughing.

“I like it. You can play together when we’re together,” Minghao said, his tone light but genuine as he started to relax.

“This is fun too,” Jeonghan added, nodding in agreement to lift Minghao’s spirits further.

“Right,” Luna said with a warm smile, her gaze soft as she looked at Minghao, knowing how much he cared about the fake show he was invited to.

The room had settled into a slightly calmer energy after the collective chaos of waking Minghao up. Members were sprawled across the space, sitting on chairs, couches, and even the floor, their voices buzzing with disbelief and excitement.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, arms crossed, his tone still tinged with amazement as he said, “Wow, this is really awesome. Can’t imagine.”

“Really. Really,” Dokyeom chimed in, nodding emphatically.

Jeonghan’s eyes flickered to S.Coups, his curiosity piqued. “S.Coups, is that why you came?”

S.Coups, lounging near the door, shook his head with a small laugh. “I didn’t know either. I knew in the morning.” He paused for dramatic effect, then added, “Really, no one knew! PLEDIS or no one else knew!”

“PLEDIS didn’t know?” Jeonghan asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“No one knew at all,” S.Coups confirmed, shaking his head with conviction.

The group’s laughter and chatter gradually settled into a warm hum as they found comfortable spots in the room. Minghao, now fully clothed in casual but neatly assembled attire, stood near his bed.

Jeonghan broke the silence, clapping his hands together once before raising them in applause.

“The best,” Jeonghan said, his tone filled with genuine admiration as he gestured toward PD Na and his crew.

“Really, it’s amazing. ‘Youth Over Flowers’ really,” Dokyeom added, clapping as well. One by one, the other members followed suit, their collective applause filling the room with appreciation and acknowledgment.

Mingyu leaned back on the couch, his voice carrying a mix of disbelief and humor. “During my years as an idol… this much I was shocked…” He paused dramatically before reenacting his reaction, his face contorting in mock astonishment as he said, “‘Really?’”

Luna, sitting on the same couch between Mingyu and Jeonghan, nodded in agreement. “Me too,” she said simply, her voice soft but earnest, her expression mirroring the awe shared by everyone.

Finally, Minghao, who had remained quiet as he processed everything, spoke up. His tone was slightly incredulous as he voiced what had clearly been on his mind. “No, so… Jun and I… there’s no reason that we would go!”

[His true feelings come out]

The members burst into laughter once again, their reactions ranging from amused chuckles to loud guffaws at Minghao’s candid remark.

“Minghao, why is there no way you would go? I think you’re cute,” PD Na teased, his tone playful yet sincere.

Jun, who had been quietly observing from the side, chimed in to reassure Minghao. “Minghao, it’s okay. They can quickly make one,” he said, referring to the idea of creating a show just for the two of them.

“Sorry. I had to do that to fool you guys,” PD Na explained, his voice carrying a note of apology. He glanced at Minghao before adding with a small smile, “Let’s go and slowly talk about it. Jun, you, and I will sit down and talk about these problems.”

The members erupted into laughter again, the absurdity of the situation making the moment even more lighthearted.

“Yes. Have a time where you talk honestly with PD,” Hoshi added, his words delivered with a mischievous grin that only amplified the laughter around them.

The room had settled into a buzz of excitement and disbelief as the members processed their situation. PD Na took a moment to look around at the group, a small smile playing on his lips. He clapped his hands once, drawing their attention, and began, “Okay, everyone is together, right?”

“Yes,” came the collective response from SEVENTEEN, their voices blending together.

“First…” PD Na trailed off as he surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the energy of the group before he continued, “SEVENTEEN is so cool.” His tone was filled with genuine admiration.

“Really cool,” Dokyeom agreed immediately, his hand gesturing toward the staff and crew standing at the back of the room.

“But Na Young-seok is really awesome,” Seungkwan interjected, his voice filled with both humor and sincerity as he complimented the renowned PD.

“Na Young-seok is really awesome,” Dokyeom echoed, nodding in agreement.

Hoshi, sitting cross-legged on the floor, chimed in, “I think it’s the first time where I got fooled like this.” His words drew a chorus of agreements from the other members, nodding and murmuring in unison.

“I really was fooled, really. Really,” Dokyeom emphasized, his tone bordering on dramatic as he repeated himself for effect.

“To be honest, we… we didn’t expect it at all,” Seungkwan admitted, glancing toward the staff and then back to PD Na.

“Since we know all of our schedules. I know we don’t have a lot of free time,” Woozi added, his practical tone emphasizing how genuinely surprised they were.

Hoshi leaned forward, his hands gesturing animatedly as he explained, “We need to practice for our title track in Korea, and the following week we need to go to Budapest to film the music video. We need to practice our choreography no matter what.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “We really have no time.”

“Right. We’re booked for the year,” Luna added, her laughter blending with the group’s energy.

“That’s why we are fooled,” Woozi concluded, crossing his arms as if putting the situation into logical terms.

PD Na tilted his head slightly and asked, “Since the schedule wouldn’t work, you thought, ‘This isn’t going to be easy’?”

“One day,” Mingyu and Luna answered in unison, their voices overlapping in perfect sync.

“‘We will go one day,’” Woozi repeated, almost as if summing up their collective assumption.

“We didn’t expect it to come this soon,” Luna said.

“I was looking at it after November,” Hoshi said, nodding to himself as he thought about how far ahead they had planned in their minds.

“I also thought of winter,” Dokyeom added, his tone thoughtful.

Considering their packed schedules, one of PD Na’s staff members finally spoke up, “Considering that too. We freed space for a week.”

The members marveled at this revelation, their reactions filled with amazement.

“We were worried about that too,” Seungkwan admitted, his voice softer now, a hint of appreciation in his tone.

“And… all the schedules that are planned for next week are fake,” the staff member continued, her words hanging in the air like a bombshell.

The reaction was immediate and explosive. “What?!” came the collective shout of disbelief from all the members, their voices layered with shock.

[Culture shock]

“All the dance practice and those schedules…” the staff member started to clarify.

“All fake,” S.Coups finished for her, his tone firm but still incredulous.

“Really?” Joshua asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Luna deadpanned with perfect comedic timing, “Wah, Jeonghannie’s parents and my parents invited the two of us for dinner next week… is that also fake?”

[Not that]

Her tone and expression were so straight-faced that the room erupted into laughter. PD Na pointed at her, laughing along with everyone else as if to say he appreciated her dry humor.

“All schedules up until the 15th are fake,” the staff member clarified again, her tone steady but amused.

“Ah… our parents too,” Luna and Jeonghan chorused, their voices perfectly synchronized and their expressions matching in faux-seriousness. This set off another wave of laughter throughout the room.

“We don’t need to worry about anything!” Seungkwan exclaimed, his tone suddenly filled with relief as he processed the implications.

Jeonghan, ever the quick-witted one, added, “We don’t have any dances in our music video then.”

“They said you’re doing it in Budapest,” S.Coups immediately corrected, his expression amused as he shot down Jeonghan’s momentary excitement.

“Ah… at Budapest,” Jeonghan said in defeat, nodding slowly as if resigning himself to the inevitable.

[Still doing that though]

S.Coups couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s short-lived excitement, while Luna pointed at Jeonghan, chuckling at how quickly his optimism had been crushed.

“Ah, we will do it,” Seungkwan said as he shook his head eagerly, his hands flailing in delight. “Whatever! I don’t need to worry! I’m so happy!”

Woozi crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, his analytical mind already piecing together the elaborate ruse. “We got fooled in a very systematic way,” he noted, his tone laced with grudging admiration.

PD Na grinned, gesturing towards the group. “Because if we don’t do this, we thought you would suspect it.”

“Yes, yes,” Seungkwan said quickly, nodding along in agreement.

Minghao, sitting cross-legged with his arms draped over his knees, finally spoke up, his expression still one of mild disbelief. “But you really fooled us all. I didn’t even imagine this.”

One of the staff chimed in, “But Director Shim Jae Hyun worked really hard.”

“Wow, he’s a scary person,” Mingyu said, his eyes darting towards the mentioned director, whose quiet demeanor betrayed no hint of spoilers.

“Yes, he’s a scary person,” Woozi echoed, nodding in agreement.

“To be honest, he’s a liar. A liar,” Mingyu added with exaggerated emphasis, his voice light with humor.

Luna, seated beside Mingyu, laughed at his dramatics before reaching out to lightly smack his back. “Stop teasing the poor man,” she teased.

The laughter in the room was infectious, but PD Na clapped his hands again to regain their attention. “I am going to make some announcements, and we can talk about other things later,” he stated firmly, his tone signaling that he was moving forward.

The room quieted down, the members’ curiosity palpable. “Good news,” PD Na began, his smile widening as he continued, “I’m sure there are people who heard before. Where is the place that we’re going to vacation at?”

“Rome?” Minghao guessed, tilting his head.

“Yes…” PD Na confirmed, drawing gasps of delight and murmurs of excitement from the group.

“Wow, really?” Luna said, her eyes widening with enthusiasm.

“Oh my goodness… what?” Jeonghan exclaimed, leaning over to lazily hug Luna and Mingyu in his excitement.

“We are going to Italy,” PD Na announced officially, his tone almost teasing as the room erupted into cheers and clapping.

“Wow, really crazy!” Seungkwan said, his voice nearly a shout.

“Who has been to Italy?” PD Na asked, scanning the room.

“None, none,” Hoshi and Woozi answered in unison, their voices overlapping.

“It’s all our first times,” Woozi added, his tone thoughtful.

“That’s why we picked it,” another producer interjected, nodding toward the group.

“We haven’t been to Europe either,” Seungkwan added, his voice tinged with anticipation.

“Aside from Jiyeonie, we haven’t been to Europe,” Woozi said, gesturing towards Luna who was born and raised in London, who nodded quietly.

“I’m really excited,” Luna admitted, her voice soft but sincere.

PD Na took a moment before continuing, his tone shifting to one of genuine warmth. “To be honest, SEVENTEEN has had a really packed schedule up to now. I know you had a really hard time. You must have had no time to rest at all… so, the concept of this Italy vacation is different from our usual ‘Youth Over Flowers’.”

The room grew quieter, the members listening intently.

“Our ‘Youth Over Flowers’, normally you suffer and go around, right? This is the complete opposite,” PD Na explained.

“All package?” Dokyeom guessed, his tone hopeful.

“All-inclusive package,” PD Na confirmed, his smile widening as the room erupted into marveling reactions.

“We prepared this. So, you just need to play. We searched and rented all places where we can play and enjoy. At breakfast, go visit places and eat delicious things. At dinner, we get together and play. We are going to spend a week like this,” PD Na explained, his hands gesturing to emphasize his point.

“Awesome! I am so excited!” Dino said, clapping his hands together.

“You all just think of it as your first vacation after debuting,” PD Na added, his voice warm and encouraging.

Luna gasped dramatically, clasping her hands together. “Wow, thank you…” she said before tilting her head slightly and adding, “but why don’t I believe you?”

[She’s quick]

The room erupted into laughter at her dry humor, while PD Na looked at her in mock shock, his expression one of exaggerated offense.

Luna smirked, leaning back in her seat. “It’s just… based from experience, PD Na and the word ‘easygoing’? They don’t really match.”

The members howled with laughter again, Seungkwan clapping his hands as tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

“We can believe this, right?” Woozi asked, chuckling as realization slowly dawned on him.

“You can trust me. You can trust this,” PD Na said, his laughter mingling with theirs as he attempted to reassure them.

“Really?” Luna said, playfully raising an eyebrow. “I’ll trust you when I don’t end up playing for money on this so-called vacation.”

[Spoilers]

The room dissolved into laughter once more, with PD Na pointing at her, shaking his head in amusement.

“Tell them that this is right. You can believe this,” PD Na finally said, turning to SEVENTEEN’s manager for backup, his voice laced with mock desperation.

The room slowly quieted after another wave of laughter died down. PD Na, ever the professional, seized the moment to continue. “So, we changed the title completely. The title is not ‘Youth Over Flowers’…” He paused, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s ‘NANA TOUR’.”

A few members repeated the title, the new name rolling off their tongues. “‘NANA TOUR’?” Dokyeom’s asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“‘NANA TOUR’…” Seungkwan echoed, testing the words with a furrowed brow before breaking into a smile.

Jeonghan, always quick to make a connection, turned to Luna, his face lighting up with mischief. He poked her cheek gently with his fingers, leaning in close. “‘NANA TOUR’,” he whispered, his voice soft but teasing.

[Nana in ‘NANA TOUR’]

Luna turned to him, scrunching her nose in mock annoyance before breaking into a smile. She shook her head lightly, knowing full well he was referring to the nickname he had always called her— Nana.

“Since our trip is an all-inclusive package, there’s nothing you need to prepare,” PD Na said confidently, as if expecting applause.

Instead, his statement was met with blank stares and an awkward silence. The members’ uncertainty and distrust were written plainly across their faces.

[Distrust]

Luna blinked, her hunch from earlier resurfacing with full force. She glanced at PD Na suspiciously, her arms crossing as if bracing for the inevitable twist.

“You don’t need your bag or anything else,” PD Na continued, undeterred. “The things you need are the clothes you’re wearing and a cellphone. You don’t even need your wallet.”

“Really?” Dokyeom asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and cautious hope.

Luna, unable to hold back, giggled softly in defeat, already envisioning the chaos that awaited them. “Aigo-ya…” she murmured under her breath, shaking her head.

“So, we are going to go like that,” PD Na declared. Then, leaning in slightly, he added eagerly, “The problem is that our package departure is a bit early…”

Luna narrowed her eyes at him, leaning forward. “Wow, you’re really scary,” she said, her tone half-joking but tinged with genuine concern.

Her comment earned another round of laughter from the members, with Woozi chuckling and nodding in agreement. “I’m saying that his eyes are scary,” he added, pointing toward PD Na with mock seriousness.

“Right?” Luna said, pointing toward Woozi who said, “I mean, if you look closely from here, it’s like I keep falling in there… like a black hole.”

“Kind of turned around,” Seungkwan deadpanned, his expression one of exaggerated concern.

The room burst into laughter again, the light-hearted teasing bouncing off PD Na, who joined in with a chuckle of his own.

“We are going to go. Going to go to Italy,” PD Na repeated, his voice louder to regain control of the group. “But the problem is that we have to go kind of early.”

The room collectively waited, a mix of uncertainty and amusement setting in.

“You guys are going to get dressed starting now, and in three minutes, meet at the host room,” PD Na announced, his tone firm but cheerful.

“What? Three minutes?” Luna said, chuckling at the absurdity of the demand while several members gasped in shock.

Jeonghan, always one to find the fun in chaos, covered his mouth with his hands in excitement. “This is so much fun,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

[Loving it]

“In three minutes?” Dokyeom repeated, his voice rising in pitch.

“Because you don’t need a bag or wallet. We have all your passports,” PD Na explained.

“I think I need to brush my teeth,” Hoshi said, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin.

“Can’t it be five minutes?” Luna asked, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she raised a hand like a student requesting extra time.

[Bargaining]

“Just put some clothes on and get your cellphones,” PD Na said, staying firm on his three-minute deadline.

“I can’t shower? Shower?” Mingyu asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Do it in three minutes,” Luna quipped, laughing as she added, “That’s what I’d call dedication.”

“Is there underwear in the package?” Dokyeom asked, his voice full of genuine concern.

“Everything!” PD Na assured them. “Just wear what you are wearing now, or you can change. You just need to come.”

“Yes, okay. Let’s hurry up and get ready,” Seungkwan said, already getting to his feet and rallying the group.

“It’s 6:20 a.m. right now… should we meet at 6:25?” PD Na asked.

“Yes!” Luna was the first to respond, her voice eager as she seemingly ignored the chaos looming ahead.

“6:23!” one of the staff corrected loudly, breaking the illusion of extra time.

Luna immediately pouted, turning toward the producer who had corrected PD Na. “Why did you correct him?” she asked, her tone light but full of mock betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” the producer said, chuckling at her expression.

Sighing dramatically, Luna slowly stood up, already following the chaos of thirteen men scrambling to get to their rooms.

The chaos that erupted in Minghao’s room was instant and electrifying. Members scrambled to exit, weaving around furniture and each other in a frenzy of hurried movement. Camera crew darted after them, capturing every frantic moment as they headed to their respective rooms to prepare for the three-minute challenge.

“It would be nice to go together at times like this,” Jeonghan’s voice carried through the room, calm amidst the madness. Luna, still standing near him, glanced over and saw him speaking casually to PD Na, who nodded and then excused himself.

Without missing a beat, Jeonghan’s hand blindly reached out, his fingers naturally finding and intertwining with Luna’s. It was such a habitual gesture that Luna barely registered it until their hands were fully linked.

“My cheetah pants…” Jeonghan chuckled, directing his comment to the camera trailing him.

Luna’s gaze dropped to his outfit— a pair of bold, cheetah-print shorts that looked entirely out of place amidst the chaos of their hurried preparations. She couldn’t help but grin. “It’s cute,” she said sincerely, her voice laced with affection.

Jeonghan, ever the playful spirit, tugged her toward the door. “Let’s go!” he said enthusiastically as he led them out of the room.

Once in the hallway, his excitement seemed to peak. “Hurray!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing as he began skipping down the corridor, still holding tightly onto Luna’s hand.

[Has the most energy out of the two]

Luna burst into laughter, the sound warm and genuine. “You like things like this,” she teased, watching as he practically bounced with energy.

[Bunnies hop, hop, hop]

“Oh, it’s nice,” Jeonghan admitted, his tone lighthearted as he glanced back at her. His joy was infectious, pulling a wider smile from Luna as they neared their destination.

When they reached the corner, Jeonghan and Luna turned right, finding their rooms right next to each other. As they stopped, Jeonghan released her hand for a moment, turning toward his camera with a cheeky grin. “I will come back safely,” he said with mock seriousness, saluting toward the lens.

Then, looking at Luna and nodding confidently, he added, “Three minutes is enough time.”

Luna shook her head with a soft chuckle, her skepticism evident. “It really isn’t,” she replied, her tone dry but amused as she opened the door to her room.

Their linked hands fell apart as they parted ways, each stepping into their respective rooms with their camera crew in tow. The hallway behind them remained abuzz with movement, but inside their rooms, the countdown to chaos had begun.

Luna took a deep breath as she closed the door to her room, the muffled sounds of the other members scrambling in the hallway barely registering in her ears.

Despite the whirlwind of chaos outside, her own calm and orderly surroundings were a stark contrast. Her room was spotless, everything neatly in its place.

Luna looked around and nodded, hyping herself up. “I can do this,” she said aloud, her voice steady as she turned toward her camera with a small smile. “I’ll brush my teeth first,” she decided, heading toward the sink with purpose.

[Hyped herself up]

The sound of water running filled the room as she grabbed her toothbrush, squeezing toothpaste onto it with practiced efficiency. Brushing her teeth quickly, Luna turned her head to scan the room, already mapping out her next steps. Her mental checklist came to life as she spotted her suitcase tucked neatly in the corner and her shoes lined up by the wall.

She worked swiftly, even as faint, muffled shouting from the hallway— likely Seungkwan or Dokyeom— momentarily distracted her. A small laugh escaped her. “It’s chaos out there,” she mumbled, half to herself.

After rinsing her mouth, Luna moved on to wash her face, splashing the cool water against her skin before quickly drying off with a towel. Her skincare routine followed— sped up drastically given the circumstances. As she patted her face with cream, she glanced at the camera. “Do you think PD Na will take my bag if I brought one? He will, right?” she mused, half-joking but with an edge of genuine concern.

[Yes he will]

Once done, she darted to her luggage, unzipping it with a determined motion. Her hands rifled through her neatly folded clothes until she found the perfect outfit.

Pulling out a lightweight white crochet cropped halter top and high-waisted blue jeans, she spoke again. “Italy will be hot, I’m sure… right?” she asked rhetorically, holding up the clothes to the camera. With a quick wave, she added, “I’ll go and change first,” before disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

A few minutes later, Luna emerged, the transformation complete. “Ta-dah!” she announced, spinning playfully for the camera. The cropped halter top fit perfectly, accentuating her figure without being over the top, and the jeans added a casual yet polished touch to the look.

[Fashionable as always]

She moved quickly to refold and pack her used clothes into her suitcase. The next step was grabbing her sneakers, socks, and slipping them on in record time. “They’ll bring my luggage back to Korea for me, right?” she asked absently, lacing her shoes tightly.

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled out a jacket— a simple, oversized piece that complemented her outfit— and shrugged it on.

“Pretty?” she asked, pausing in front of the mirror to assess herself. After a moment, she nodded in approval, grabbing her phone and slipping it into her pocket.

[Also true]

Her focus shifted suddenly. “Charger, charger… where’s my charger?” she muttered, darting around the room, her movements quick but not panicked. Opening drawers, checking the bedside table, and even peeking under the bed, she shook her head in confusion. “Did I leave it in Hannie’s room? I think I did,” she said, her voice rising slightly as realization struck.

Without hesitation, Luna left her room, her oversized jacket swishing around her as she darted down the hallway. “My charger! My charger is important,” she chanted in a sing-song voice, her steps light as she reached Jeonghan’s door.

Pushing it open slightly— it had been left ajar— she stepped inside.

Jeonghan was by the sink, toothbrush in hand, his voice muffled as he spoke to his camera. He turned his head slightly at the sound of her voice. “Hannie…” Luna called, scanning the room, her eyes darting from one corner to the next.

Jeonghan hummed in response, not stopping his brushing as he let her roam freely.

“Where’s my charger?” she asked, hands now on her hips as she glanced at him.

“Bedside table,” he answered through a mouthful of toothpaste, pointing lazily in the right direction before returning to his commentary with the camera.

Luna walked over, grabbing the charger and carefully wrapping the cord around her hand before slipping it into her jacket pocket. As she moved toward the door, she paused, catching Jeonghan mid-sentence. He had just swallowed the toothpaste and opened his mouth to continue speaking when she clicked her tongue in disapproval.

[Swallows]

Turning back, she crossed the room in a few steps and softly cupped his cheeks with her hand, squeezing them gently. Jeonghan blinked at her, amusement flashing in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow.

“You need to stop doing that. That’s not good for you, Han,” Luna scolded, her tone light but firm.

After Luna scolded Jeonghan for swallowing the toothpaste, he swallowed the laughter threatening to spill and quirked a brow at her, his voice smooth with mock innocence. “What? I’m just saving time. They say multitasking is a life skill, Nana-ya.” Jeonghan’s smirk deepened as he leaned a fraction closer, his tone turning deliberately playful before he added, “You know if you’re that curious, I can let you try. It’s minty fresh.”

[Toothpaste makes you act weirdly]

As he leaned forward slightly, as if to close the space between them, Luna immediately took a step back, her eyes widening in alarm. She raised her hands, palms facing him in a silent plea to stop, her expression a mix of amusement and panic. Without needing words, she darted her gaze toward the cameras capturing their every move, silently reminding him they weren’t exactly alone.

“I already know what toothpaste tastes like.” Luna said.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, clearly amused by her reaction, and straightened up again, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax,” he drawled, his voice low enough that it almost seemed meant for her alone. “I’m just kidding... I’m not sharing my toothpaste with you.”

Luna’s exasperated sigh and the slight roll of her eyes only made his grin grow wider as she spun on her heel, muttering something under her breath as she returned to her room.

“Cute,” she heard him say behind her as she stepped back into the hallway, ready to finish her preparations.

Luna reentered her room, her brows furrowed in concentration as she darted toward her belongings. Determined to make the most of her limited options, she began methodically stuffing the essentials into her pockets.

“Earphones are essential,” she muttered to herself, sliding them into her jean pocket with practiced ease.

She then moved to her bag, pulling out a compact pill organizer. “Vitamins are important… supplements…” she trailed off, her voice soft as she frowned at the assortment of items spread across her bed.

She hesitated, picking up a small tube of sunscreen and holding it up as if deliberating its importance. “What do I do about my skincare?” she whispered, her pout growing more pronounced as she glanced helplessly at the other bottles.

As if summoned by her quiet dilemma, the door to her room creaked open, and in sauntered Jeonghan. He was now dressed in the white shirt he was wearing earlier and black joggers, his relaxed demeanor amplified by the black cap perched on his head

However, it was the massive duffel bag slung over his shoulder that immediately caught Luna’s attention.

Jeonghan strode into the room confidently, dropping the oversized bag onto the floor with an audible thud before positioning himself beside her.

[The biggest bag he could find]

Luna blinked at him, then at the bag, before tilting her head incredulously. “PD Na said no bags… clearly, you’re not following instructions,” she said, crossing her arms as she looked up at him.

Jeonghan shrugged, utterly unbothered, before reaching over to grab her handbag from the corner of the room. He handed it to her without a word, then picked up the sunscreen and other skincare items she had been fretting over. Carefully, he began arranging them in his duffel bag, his movements deliberate and calm.

“What else do you need?” he asked, his tone casual, as though the cameras and the impending confiscation of their belongings didn’t exist.

Luna gaped at him. “Ya! He’s gonna take our bags,” she protested, though her voice wavered between amusement and disbelief.

Unfazed, Jeonghan moved to her luggage, unzipping it and selecting a few clothing items. He folded them neatly before tucking them into his bag as if they had all the time in the world.

“I’m thankful, but… what’s the point, honestly?” Luna chuckled, shaking her head as she grabbed her navy-blue Miu Miu cap and placed it snugly on her head. Despite Jeonghan’s quiet determination, she couldn’t help but feel skeptical.

Jeonghan straightened up, turning to face her with an easy smile. “The point,” he began, his voice steady and low, “is that we can at least try.” He lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant half-shrug, his gaze softening. “If it works, great. If it doesn’t, it’s fine. Either way, don’t worry.”

Luna bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting with the brim of her cap. “Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly, her pout returning.

Jeonghan’s expression didn’t falter. “I’m sure,” he said firmly, yet with a gentleness that made her feel oddly reassured. “Now, quickly— what else do you need? Put it in the bag before we run out of time.”

Luna glanced at the bed again, chewing on her lip as she picked up a small hairbrush and her portable battery. “Maybe this…” she said uncertainly, placing them in his outstretched hand.

“See? Easy,” Jeonghan said with a soft chuckle as he packed the items away. He gave her an encouraging nod. “Anything else?”

Luna glanced at her luggage, a playful glint in her eyes as she strolled over to it. “This,” she announced, pulling a small red bunny plushie from the depths of her bag.

[Hello]

She held it up with a cheeky smile, clearly testing her luck with Jeonghan.

Jeonghan didn’t even bat an eye.

He nodded, hummed in agreement, and reached out for the plushie. Without a word, he tucked it neatly into his oversized duffel bag, his expression unreadable but calm.

“That’s all?” he asked, scanning the room briefly as if double-checking.

“Yes… let’s go,” Luna replied, moving toward the door before stopping abruptly. “Oh!” She turned on her heel, darting to her bedside table to grab her sunglasses. Sliding them onto her face with a satisfied smile, she asked, “Okay?”

Jeonghan adjusted the strap of his bag as he gave her a long look, taking in her attire and her scattered belongings. “Okay,” he asked one last time, “Finished?”

Luna took a moment to scan her room with a careful gaze before nodding firmly. “Finished.”

Jeonghan gave the room one final sweep himself, his meticulous side refusing to leave anything to chance.

Satisfied, he opened the door, gesturing for her to go ahead. Their camera operators followed closely behind as the two of them made their way down the hallway toward the host room where they had been told to meet the others.

As they walked, Luna pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed her mother’s number. Pressing the device to her ear, she waited for the line to connect.

“Did you tell your mom?” she asked Jeonghan, glancing over at him as he placed his own sunglasses on his face.

“I messaged her, but she hasn’t replied yet,” he said, his voice calm as always. “She’s probably still sleeping.”

Luna nodded, remembering what she had mentioned to PD Na earlier about their parents’ dinner plans. Both her and Jeonghan’s parents had invited the two of them to a joint family dinner, but with the sudden change of plans, they now had to rain check.

“Don’t worry,” Jeonghan added smoothly, his tone reassuring. “We can reschedule— or they can have dinner together without us.”

Luna smiled at his practicality but didn’t have a chance to respond before her mother answered the phone.

“Hi, Mommy!” Luna greeted warmly, her tone softening as she adjusted the phone against her ear. “No, no, nothing bad, don’t worry. I just wanted to call and update you about something.”

She listened for a moment, her mom’s concerned voice coming faintly through the receiver, before laughing lightly. “I’m fine, really. But there’s been a change of plans… long story short, we’ve been kidnapped and we’re going to Italy.”

Her mother’s surprise was evident even without seeing her, and Luna quickly continued, “It’s for work, don’t worry. You know how these schedules can change last minute.” She paused to glance at Jeonghan, who was walking beside her with his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“Yes… yes, Jeonghannie’s here with me,” Luna added, a soft smile playing on her lips as she said his name. “We’re heading to meet the others now.”

She listened as her mom’s tone shifted, likely asking a string of rapid-fire questions about logistics and safety. Luna hummed thoughtfully in response, nodding even though her mother couldn’t see her.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make sure to eat properly. Don’t worry.” Luna chuckled softly, her voice warm and light. “And yes, we’ll keep you updated as soon as we land.”

She glanced at Jeonghan again, as though silently sharing the conversation with him. “Jeonghan already messaged his mom, but I think she’s still sleeping. Yeah, we’re all fine. No need to stress…”

Luna stepped into the host room, phone pressed to her ear as her mother continued to ask her questions.

The members were already seated, fully dressed and ready, their attention quickly drawn to the two as they entered. Jeonghan strolled in behind her, his gait leisurely, and his demeanor calm. It didn’t go unnoticed that they looked subtly coordinated, both wearing white with caps and sunglasses perched on their faces.

[The mischievous ones arrive]

“Aigo!” one of PD Na’s staff exclaimed with a chuckle, their eyes immediately landing on Luna’s handbag and the enormous duffel bag slung over Jeonghan’s shoulder— almost as large as Luna herself.

Everyone in the room turned to look, and the members couldn’t suppress their laughter, shaking their heads at the duo’s antics.

“I’m sorry, but no bags,” PD Na announced, stepping toward them with an air of mock authority. He gently grabbed Luna’s handbag, preparing to place it next to the small pile of confiscated bags that clearly belonged to Joshua, Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Dino.

Still on her call, Luna raised her voice playfully for her mother to hear. “Mommy, there is a strange man trying to take my bag,” she said, her voice filled with mock alarm.

[Tells on PD Na]

The room erupted into laughter, with the members clutching their sides while PD Na froze in shock, still holding onto her bag. “No…” PD Na stuttered, visibly flabbergasted, as he struggled to form a response.

Luna turned to Jeonghan with a mock glare, pointing accusingly at him. “I told you he won’t allow it!”

Jeonghan, unfazed, smirked at her. “And I told you we’re just trying our luck.”

“Well, clearly, luck is not on our side today,” Luna quipped, crossing her arms in faux exasperation.

Jeonghan leaned slightly toward her and responded coolly, “Luck doesn’t like quitters, Nana-ya and it’s called strategy not failure.”

[Bunnies arguing]

The room burst into laughter again, with Seungkwan teasing them between chuckles, “Mom, Dad, stop!”

PD Na, still clutching Luna’s handbag, began laughing as well, shaking his head in defeat.

“Mommy,” Luna continued, her voice still filled with exaggerated dramatics, “the man who is trying to take my bag is the same man who scared me earlier!” She shot PD Na a cheeky look, earning more laughter from the group.

Jeonghan, clearly entertained, grinned as he wordlessly set his duffel bag on the ground, making no move to remove any of its contents despite PD Na’s earlier proclamation.

“I’m sorry, Luna,” PD Na finally said through his chuckles, “but only things that can fit in your pockets are allowed to be brought.”

Luna sighed in defeat but couldn’t help laughing along. “Alright,” she said with a small chuckle, finally giving in.

Without missing a beat, Jeonghan reached over, plucked her phone from her hand, and brought it to his ear. “Yes, Mom… hello…” he said smoothly, his calm tone cutting through the lingering laughter in the room.

Meanwhile, Luna moved to the corner, her focus shifting to salvaging what she could. She placed her own bag down near the other confiscated bags, stuffing her pockets with the essentials she truly needed. Her movements were hurried but deliberate as she muttered softly to herself about what could possibly fit.

[Huffs and puffs]

The members watched her with amusement as Jeonghan continued chatting easily with her mom in the background, his relaxed voice a stark contrast to her visible frustration.

Soon, Jeonghan handed Luna’s phone back to her, ending the call with a final polite, “Take care, Mom.” Just as he turned around, PD Na approached, his eyes narrowing playfully at the oversized duffel bag still sitting on the chair.

“You’re really not going to give up on that bag, are you?” PD Na teased, folding his arms as he tilted his head toward Jeonghan.

Jeonghan chuckled, his tone light and teasing. “Alright, alright. I’ll return it,” he finally relented, though his grin said otherwise. With a dramatic sigh, he opened the bag and revealed its contents for everyone to see.

PD Na leaned over, his brow lifting as he spotted something at the top of the pile. “The ramyeon… how many do you need with you?” he asked incredulously, pulling out not one but three cups of ramyeon.

The room erupted into laughter as Jeonghan scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Is this a ramyeon store?” PD Na teased, holding up the cups for everyone to see.

Jeonghan simply shrugged, his tone nonchalant. “I carry a lot of things around.”

“He said only things you can put in your pockets are allowed,” Wonwoo chimed in, his voice deadpan as he repeated the rule word for word.

Before Jeonghan could respond, PD Na’s hand dove back into the bag, this time emerging with a familiar red bunny plushie. He held it up triumphantly, turning to face the rest of the room.

“And what is this?” PD Na asked, his tone filled with mock seriousness. “Is this necessary for the trip to Italy?”

The sight of the bunny made the group laugh even harder.

“That’s mine,” Luna said, stepping forward with her hand raised.

“Yours?” PD Na asked, clearly not expecting the response.

Luna nodded firmly. “That’s an essential.”

The sincerity in her voice made the chuckles grow louder.

“How exactly is this an essential?” PD Na asked, his brow furrowed as he examined the plushie like it was a mysterious artifact.

Luna crossed her arms, a glint of playfulness in her eyes. “Whenever you have a hard time sleeping during the trip, I can lend it to you.”

Her matter-of-fact tone sent the room into another fit of laughter, and even PD Na couldn’t help but chuckle as he handed the bunny over to her.

Luna cradled the plushie in her arms before crouching down by Jeonghan’s bag. “Give me a second,” she muttered, her hands already rummaging through the contents.

Jeonghan didn’t stop her, merely stepping aside with an amused smile as he watched her dig through his meticulously packed bag.

[Is it Jeonghan’s bag or hers?]

“What is happening?” PD Na asked, his tone incredulous but entertained.

“Your fault,” Jeonghan replied easily.

Luna pulled out her moisturizer and sunscreen, inspecting them briefly before stuffing them into her jacket pocket.

“Why are your things in there?” PD Na asked, finally noticing that most of the items in the bag didn’t seem to belong to Jeonghan at all.

“I need them,” Luna replied simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

PD Na shook his head, laughing as he watched her continue to sort through the bag, while Jeonghan stood by with a satisfied smirk, clearly unbothered by the commotion his duffel bag had caused.

Jeonghan and Luna stood at the back of the room, both completely engrossed in their little mission as the rest of the group lounged around, waiting for PD Na’s signal to leave.

Jeonghan reached for the hem of Luna’s jacket, tugging at it gently to get her attention.

“Are you cold?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a murmur.

Luna looked up from where she was busy rearranging her belongings. “Hmm? Not really. I just brought this just in case,” she answered, her tone casual.

Without another word, Jeonghan slid the jacket off her shoulders. Luna allowed him to do so, albeit with a confused expression, standing there in her cropped white halter top.

“Hannie, what are you—” she began, but her voice trailed off as he folded the jacket with practiced precision, his long fingers deftly manipulating the fabric.

[?]

Jeonghan didn’t respond right away, instead focusing on the task at hand. He began stuffing the jacket’s large pockets with her smaller essentials— lip balm, tissues, and her travel-sized moisturizer— all while humming to himself.

Then, with a few neat folds and an expert tie, he transformed the jacket into a makeshift sling bag.

[Doing anything and everything]

Luna giggled as she watched him, her amusement bubbling over. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Jeonghan smirked, handing her the now-repurposed jacket bag. “Efficient is the word you’re looking for,” he quipped, helping her tuck the last of her items inside.

Their little moment didn’t go unnoticed.

From across the room, Seungkwan spotted them and couldn’t help but call them out, his voice ringing loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Ya! Yoon Jeonghan! Bae Jiyeon!”

All heads turned in unison, catching the two red-handed. Luna and Jeonghan froze, Luna clutching the makeshift bag as if it were evidence of a crime.

[Bunnies got caught]

The members burst into laughter, their amusement echoing through the room.

“Wah…” PD Na exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Those two… really…” S.Coups chuckled, his tone a mix of exasperation and fondness.

Jeonghan raised his hands in mock innocence. “What? We’re just folding her jacket. Jiyeonie is feeling hot,” he said smoothly, his expression calm and unbothered.

[Lie no. 1]

PD Na wasn’t buying it. “So, you’re not bringing that jacket, right? Since she’s feeling hot… it’s hot in Italy too. So it won’t be needed.”

Luna, ever quick on her feet, jumped in before Jeonghan could respond. “No. I might need it on the plane. I get cold easily.”

[Lie no. 2]

The members behind PD Na exchanged knowing looks, trying to stifle their laughter. They all knew Luna loved the cold and was often the last person to complain about being chilly, but they stayed silent, enjoying the show.

“It wouldn’t be fair for the other members,” PD Na pointed out, his gaze steady.

“He’s right!” a few members chorused, siding with him in unison.

Luna wasn’t one to back down easily. “Then allow them to bring more stuff too,” she reasoned, her tone earnest.

“She’s right!” The same members who had sided with PD Na now shifted their allegiance to Luna so fast that it made him laugh out loud.

“No, I can’t let you,” PD Na chuckled, his resolve unwavering.

“Don’t you think it’s only fair? Jiyeonie fell off her bed earlier…” Jeonghan added, his voice dripping with mock sympathy as he gave PD Na a pointed look.

[Manipulates PD Na]

The members chuckled, their amusement growing.

“He’s right. I could have broken my hip…” Luna chimed in, her voice dramatic.

“Me too,” Jeonghan added.

PD Na blinked at him, his expression caught between disbelief and amusement. “What do you mean ‘me too’?”

“I broke Jiyeonie’s fall,” Jeonghan stated simply, his tone so matter-of-fact that it made Luna burst out laughing, the sound contagious as the rest of the group followed suit.

“You fell?” Minghao asked, his concern cutting through the laughter as he looked at Luna. He hadn’t been there earlier when she was woken up.

“I did,” Luna nodded, her chuckles softening into a sheepish smile.

“See? Don’t you feel bad for scaring Jiyeonie?” Jeonghan continued, his voice teasing as he shot a pointed look at PD Na.

“Wah! Those two are really scary,” Dokyeom said, pointing at the pair with an exaggerated shake of his head.

“Shameless. They are shameless,” Seungkwan declared, though his tone betrayed how entertained he was.

“They share the same brain cells, really,” Mingyu added, shaking his head in faux disbelief.

PD Na held up his hands, silencing the playful chaos with a laugh. “No. Give them all to me. It’s all there,” he said firmly, gesturing to Luna and Jeonghan’s makeshift bag of essentials.

Finally, Luna and Jeonghan gave up, surrendering the jacket and removing the unnecessary items. Luna was left with only the true necessities tucked into her pockets as PD Na watched over them like a hawk.

[Gives up]

“We’ll give you all the pocket money when we get there. Give you a place to stay. Give you delicious food too,” PD Na said reassuringly, his tone light yet final, as though he were a parent reasoning with mischievous children.

Jeonghan and Luna exchanged a glance before sighing in unison, their antics coming to an end— for now.

The excitement in the room was palpable, and Seungkwan could barely contain himself. “Sounds like so much fun!” he exclaimed, his voice brimming with energy as he clapped his hands together.

“It’s been a while since I felt this excited,” Mingyu added, nodding in agreement, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“Sounds so much fun. How would we go if it wasn’t for times like this?” Seungkwan marveled, his tone growing more reflective as he glanced around at his fellow members.

“It’s our first time going to Europe as a group,” Joshua pointed out, his voice calm but filled with quiet excitement.

“To be honest, it’s really hard to fool all fourteen of us. It’s really not easy,” Dino chimed in, emphasizing his amazement as he gestured toward the crew, his expression one of genuine admiration.

“Oh, this is really the best reality show,” Hoshi said, his trademark grin stretching across his face.

“But… thank you so much for hiding this thoroughly,” Woozi said earnestly, turning to PD Na and his crew with a small bow of gratitude.

“Really! We can figure it out and ruin it. Ruin the fun,” Seungkwan agreed, nodding emphatically. He opened his mouth to continue, but before he could finish his thought, a staff member stepped forward with a phone in hand, raising it to face the group.

“Okay, we’ll take a picture… one, two, three…” the staff member announced.

Immediately, the members broke into bright smiles, striking playful poses for the camera.

“Nice. I’ll take one more… one, two, three…” the staff said again, and the group posed once more, their excitement evident in their grins.

[First picture of the trip]

As the camera clicked, PD Na clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Okay! All our customers are here. We will move to the bus right away and leave. Off we go to Italy!”

“Let’s go!” Dokyeom exclaimed, jumping to his feet, his enthusiasm infectious as the members began to gather themselves and head out of the room.

With her stuffed bunny in one hand, Luna barely had time to react before Dokyeom grabbed her other hand. He swung their hands back and forth as he skipped ahead, his energy unmatched.

“We are off to Italy!” Dokyeom announced loudly, his voice echoing through the hallway, drawing laughter from those around him.

Luna couldn’t help but laugh along, her voice soft compared to Dokyeom’s boisterous exclamation. “Yay!” she said in a tiny voice, unable to match his energy but happy to go along with it.

“Just follow the yellow brick road, Jiyeonie!” Dokyeom said with a mischievous grin.

“That’s gonna take us to the wrong place,” Luna chuckled, amused by his reference as they entered the elevator with the first batch of members, unable to fit everyone at once.

Once they reached the basement parking of the hotel, they found themselves waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. Joshua, curious, turned to PD Na.

“You were in this hotel?” he asked.

“No, the hotel next to ours. Purposely. Just in case we got caught,” S.Coups answered for PD Na, stepping forward with a knowing smile.

“We had a meeting with S.Coups. I was sitting in the hotel room for seven hours,” PD Na explained, shaking his head at the memory before adding, “Nothing matters now.”

“This was in it for fooling you guys. Let’s just keep it a secret until 5 a.m. That was it,” S.Coups said, crossing his arms as if reliving the meticulous planning.

Luna, however, was only half-listening. Her focus was elsewhere as she typed away on her phone, updating her mom just like she told her to. Her concentration was so intense that she didn’t catch the part where S.Coups admitted to being part of the plan, or the subtle implication that he wouldn’t be joining them due to his injury.

“So detailed,” Joshua praised, glancing at PD Na with genuine admiration.

“Since it’s the first time where all of the members were fooled,” Wonwoo said, adding his agreement.

“We are quick,” S.Coups said with a knowing smile.

“If you do a hidden camera on us and one of us figures it out, the atmosphere changes,” Wonwoo explained, his voice calm and insightful as he gestured to the group.

“Since there are a lot of people,” PD Na added with a nod, acknowledging the challenge of keeping such a large group in the dark.

The van intended to take them to their bus rolled smoothly to a stop in front of the group, its engine humming quietly in the background.

PD Na clapped his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” he urged them, motioning toward the vehicle. Then, turning to S.Coups, he added with genuine appreciation, “S.Coups, thanks,” acknowledging the leader’s help with a slight nod.

At this, Wonwoo and Vernon, who were just about to climb into the van, paused and turned around.

“Oh!” Wonwoo exclaimed, realizing the significance of PD Na’s words. He immediately made his way back to S.Coups, his usual stoic demeanor breaking into something softer and more affectionate.

Dokyeom, who had been patting S.Coups’ back, couldn’t help but laugh as he pointed at Wonwoo. “He was going to leave without looking back!” Dokyeom teased, his voice playful as always.

“Leaving coldly,” PD Na added with a chuckle, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

Wonwoo ignored the teasing as he reached out to hug S.Coups, who was laughing at the whole situation.

“You saw Wonwoo just leaving, right? Us two— you remember us hugging you right away,” Dokyeom said dramatically, pointing at himself and Joshua as if to cement their loyalty in S.Coups’ mind.

S.Coups grinned at their antics and patted Dokyeom’s shoulder reassuringly. “I will send you a message,” he said, his tone calm and affectionate, as always.

Vernon, who had been watching the exchange with growing confusion, finally pieced it together. His eyes widened slightly as the realization dawned on him.

“Ah! You’re not coming with us!” Vernon exclaimed, his tone surprised.

The sudden statement snapped Luna out of her focus, her head whipping toward them as she processed Vernon’s words.

“Who?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern and upset, though she wasn’t yet sure who Vernon was referring to.

The group turned to look at her, a collective chuckle rippling through them.

“You were here this whole time?” Joshua teased, his voice light and teasing as he raised an eyebrow at her.

Luna, however, wasn’t in the mood to reply and completely ignored his comment. Her gaze darted around the group as she asked again, “Who’s not coming? Coupsie?”

Her voice softened as her eyes landed on S.Coups, who was looking back at her with a small, sad smile.

“He’s going to hurt his leg,” Dokyeom explained, his voice softer now, as if he didn’t want to upset her further.

“Go home safely,” Wonwoo added, his tone warm and sincere.

“No…” Luna trailed off, her voice filled with disbelief. She didn’t know what to say, her thoughts scrambling to process the fact that their leader wouldn’t be coming along.

“Rest well,” Joshua told S.Coups, his voice gentle and understanding.

“Ah… this is so sad. What do I do?” Vernon said dramatically, shaking S.Coups’ hand in farewell before stepping back. Then, as if to lighten the mood, Vernon added with a teasing grin, “I will have fun.” He waved teasingly as he backed away toward the van, his antics drawing a laugh from S.Coups and the rest of the members.

The group’s laughter filled the air, but Luna was unmoved by the levity of the moment. She stood there, her lips pressed into a pout, clearly upset as her eyes stayed on S.Coups.

“This is really upsetting,” Wonwoo commented, his tone quieter now as he glanced at Luna before turning back to S.Coups.

S.Coups laughed softly, waving at the group as they bid their goodbyes. Joshua, Dokyeom, and Wonwoo joined Vernon in waving goodbye to him, their hands raised high as they slowly backed toward the van.

Luna, however, didn’t move, her pout deepening as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her expression spoke volumes, and it was clear to everyone watching that she wasn’t ready to let this go just yet.

Luna’s gaze stayed locked on S.Coups as the others reluctantly began moving toward the van. Her feet remained planted, her stuffed bunny clutched tightly in one hand. She was quiet for a moment, processing the finality of what Vernon had just said.

[Looks like she’s gonna cry]

Then, softly, S.Coups asked, “Aigo… why?” He smiled at her gently, the way he always did when he knew she was upset.

“You’re not coming?” she asked again, her voice trembling slightly even though she already knew the answer. He needed to fly back to Korea for rehab and treatment— he needed to rest. But knowing it didn’t make it any easier.

“I’m not, Nie,” S.Coups replied, his tone calm and soothing. “You understand why, right?”

Luna nodded silently, but her heart sank. She hated it when any of the members were left out. To her, it felt wrong, incomplete. The thought of S.Coups, their leader and rock, staying behind while the rest of them embarked on this long-awaited trip gnawed at her.

“I can stay here with you,” Luna offered, her voice firm and completely serious.

S.Coups immediately gave her a sharp look, the kind of authoritative stare that only he could deliver. “No. I won’t let you. I’ll be fine, Jiyeonie. Don’t worry too much,” he reassured her, his tone gentle but decisive.

“No. I want to stay with you,” Luna insisted, her stubborn streak shining through as she met his gaze.

This time, S.Coups gave her one of his leader stares— the kind that could silence any argument.

Luna’s shoulders sagged slightly, and her lips jutted out in a pout. “Cheollie…” she trailed off, her voice almost a whine as she shuffled closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug, burying her face against his shoulder. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Some people might think she was being overly dramatic, and maybe she was, but who cares?

This was S.Coups— her leader, her big brother figure, her constant— and it didn’t feel right to leave him behind.

“You haven’t been to Europe, and you were the most excited when we won this trip,” Luna murmured sadly as she pulled away from the hug. She remembered vividly how ecstatic he had been when they won the trip during Game Caterers a few months ago.

S.Coups smiled at her, but it was tinged with sadness. “I know,” he said simply.

He could see the gears turning in her head as she mulled over the idea of staying behind with him. She was always like this— selfless to a fault, especially when it came to the people she cared about. But S.Coups wasn’t going to let her miss this opportunity.

“Can you do something for me?” he said softly, coaxing her.

Luna blinked, her attention fully on him now. “What?”

“Get me something from Italy,” he said, his smile soft and encouraging. “Something special. For me.”

Luna hesitated but finally nodded. “Alright…” she said, her voice still tinged with sadness.

“Stop being so sad,” S.Coups chuckled, reaching out to pat her arm.

“I don’t like it when we aren’t complete,” Luna admitted, her voice quiet but sincere.

She knew she sounded clingy, but she couldn’t help it. She had grown up with these men— they were her family.

“I know,” S.Coups said, his voice equally soft. His gaze dropped to the red bunny plushie Luna was holding. He smiled and said, “That can be me for the meantime.”

Luna looked down at the plushie, her pout deepening slightly before she softened. “Cherry…” she murmured, tracing her finger over the bunny’s ear. “I’ll take Cherry with me everywhere.”

[Cherry will be Cheollie for a week]

S.Coups’ smile widened at that.

“I’ll take you to Italy when you’re okay,” Luna said suddenly, her voice filled with determination. She looked up at him, her eyes serious. “Just the two of us. I promise.” She held out her pinkie finger to him, her expression unyielding.

S.Coups stared at her for a moment, knowing she was dead serious and meant every word.

With a soft chuckle, he linked his pinkie with hers. “Promise,” he said.

Luna gave him another tight hug, her arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders. “Rest well and heal fast,” she whispered. “I’ll call you and send you pictures and buy you so many things.”

Before pulling away, she placed a quick kiss on his cheek, making him laugh softly.

“Nie, I have a letter,” S.Coups said, his voice teasing but sincere.

Luna furrowed her brows in confusion. “A letter? What letter?”

S.Coups smirked and nodded his head toward the van. “Go… but don’t forget, choose the letter.”

Still confused, Luna could only nod hesitantly as she let herself be gently pushed toward the van. “Alright…” she said, though her voice held an uncertain edge as she climbed inside.

As the door closed behind her, S.Coups watched her with a fond smile. He waved once more at her knowing that while he couldn’t be with them this time, they would carry a piece of him with them— just as he would carry them in his heart.

[To be continued in Clip 1-2]

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 months ago

Note

Your Declan fic was SO good. That’s how u discovered your account and I can’t wait for the other Rivals fics you have coming up!!!

If you are still taking requests, I would die for protective Declan O’Hara in any situation. Love your stuff!!

man of the hour.

the sexiest thing about a man is his moustache morals.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - cursing. a little violence and a quick injury description.

word count - 2k

authors note - I truly believe that one of the sexiest things about declan is the fact that he stands up for what he believes in… don’t underestimate the aphrodisiac powers of strong morals, ladies and gents. need him to stand up for me sometime🧎‍♀️‍➡️. anyway this ended up much softer than I meant it to be (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing) <3

masterlist. inbox.

“Can I get you another drink?”

You laugh as the man swings an arm around your shoulders, the heavy weight of it almost taking you down.

“You’ve asked me that four times in the last five minutes, Bas. Thank you, though.”

“Just want to make sure you’re having a good time.”

He’s yelling into your ear, both of you fighting to raise your voices above the noise of Bar Sinister.

“I’m always having a good time with you,” you tease, leaning into his side. “I’m alright, Bas. Promise.”

“You need to let loose for once in your life.”

“I’ll let loose on a day I’m not working.”

“You’re always working.”

“What can I say? He’s hard fucking work.”

You both look over to your boss, who’s currently animatedly telling Declan a story. Rupert’s gesturing so exaggeratedly that people are ducking out of the way, both men laughing and completely oblivious as beer and whiskey splash all over the floor.

Bas presses a kiss into your hair, squeezing you tightly.

“I don’t know what he’d do without you.”

“Well, he never has to find out. We’re stuck with each other,” you chuckle. “Best job I’ve ever had, surprisingly.”

“I won’t tell him you said that,” Bas winks, laughing.

The sound of multiple glasses smashing has the both of you whipping your heads around, trying to find the source of the commotion.

“Shit. I’ll see you later, darling. Come and find me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Course.”

Bas disappears into the bustling crowd, leaving you standing at the bar. It’s absolutely manic, people packed in to the rafters and bumping into each other left, right and centre.

You’re about to make your way over to Rupert when a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you backwards so hard that you stumble over your own feet. You tug your arm away, finally getting a good look at the person who’s responsible.

“Spencer?”

“Oh, so you do remember me then?”

“… What? We were together for six months, and I don’t have short term memory loss, so… yes.”

“I just meant because you’re hanging around with the elite now. The rumour is that you’re working for Rupert Campbell Black.”

“I am working for Rupert Campbell Black. It’s not a secret, Spencer. I’m his aide and assistant. I’m working for Venturer, too, helping with their public relations. And you are… what? Still pretending to work for your father when you really just spend your days drinking and betting?”

“I do work for my father.”

“Of course you do.”

He steps forward, getting into your personal space.

“What are you doing in here, Spencer? You don’t even live in Rutshire.”

“Thought I’d pop in, see if you were here. Wanted to see if there was any truth to the rumours.”

“Well, you’ve put the rumours to bed now, haven’t you?”

“Not the only thing that’s been put to bed,” he murmurs, just low enough so you only catch half of it.

“Pardon me?”

Your entire body is taut with tension, nerves alert and heart racing. You can only imagine how uncomfortable you must look, praying that someone notices sooner rather than later.

“Which one are you sleeping with, then?”

“Spencer-”

“No, come on. You finished things with me, so there must be another man. Who is it?”

“I’m finished things with you - eight months ago, mind you - because you’re an immature prick who’s so pretentious it makes you deeply unlikeable. There was no other man, I’d just rather be single than be with you.”

His chest puffs out as he starts to go red with rage, anger bubbling up in his veins. You know that you’re not completely unsafe here in this room full of people, but that doesn’t calm your anxiety in the slightest.

“Which one is it, hmm?” his voice is raising, getting louder with every passing minute. “Which one looks like your type?”

He points at Seb first, quirking an eyebrow.

“Him?”

When you don’t respond, he moves on to pointing at Patrick.

“Him?”

You shake your head almost imperceptibly, wishing that the ground would swallow you up.

“Oh my god… it’s him, isn’t it?”

His eyes have landed on Rupert, who’s still stood across the room. Your boss is looking at you, now, quickly assessing the situation you’re in.

“You’re fucking Rupert Campbell Black?!”

The entire crowd of people goes silent as he practically screams it, everyone’s heads turning to look at you.

“She’s… what?” Rupert, Declan and Bas all ask at the exact same time, hilariously in sync.

“Fucked your way up to the top, did you? Classy as always.”

Spencer goes to continue his sentence, but hits the floor suddenly with a heavy thud. You look up to see Declan shaking off his hand, chest heaving with adrenaline. Your ex boyfriend has a busted lip, blood dripping down his chin and onto his awfully unflattering shirt.

“It’s called hard work, you arrogant little prick. Not that you’d know.”

Declan’s Irish accent sounds stronger than usual, coloured with fury and aggression. Bas has dragged Spencer to his feet, both him and Rupert holding him upright.

“If I ever catch you anywhere near here again, I’ll do more than just split your fucking lip. You understand?”

Spencer nods, clearly still dizzy from the impact of the punch. He’s dragged outside before anyone can say anything else, the crowd returning back to their drinks as if nothing ever happened.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

Declan links his fingers with yours before you can register what’s happening, pulling you through the bar and out of the back door. You take a seat on the brick wall, legs dangling over the edge as you kick your feet.

“You okay?” he asks as he sits down next to you, just close enough that you can feel his body heat.

“I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“I’m sure.”

You don’t really know how to feel, confused by the whole ordeal.

“He seems like a nice boy.”

You laugh suddenly at the bad joke, shaking your head as Declan laughs with you. It’s not a sound you hear from him all that often.

“Sorry you had to punch him.”

“I didn’t have to. Kinda wanted to, though.”

“Me too.”

He bumps his shoulder into yours, looking at you carefully.

“I didn’t just hit him for a laugh, you know. I was worried he was going to hurt ya.”

“I was too,” you whisper, vulnerability bleeding into your tone.

“I’d never of let that happen. I promise, sweetheart.”

His hand finds yours again, fingers gently sliding in between yours. He rests your intertwined hands on his thigh, thumb rubbing patterns on your skin.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You sit in silence for a long moment, enjoying the way the warmth of his palm seeps slowly into yours.

“I didn’t think anyone had even noticed Spencer was there.”

“I saw as soon as he walked in, because I knew I didn’t recognise him. I tried to give you some space, thought maybe you were friends or something. Didn’t want to intervene and embarrass ya.”

“Ex boyfriend, if you haven’t already guessed. We were only together about six months all in all, about eight months ago. Don’t know what I was thinking, really. He’s fucking awful.”

“You can say that again,” he chuckles, hand squeezing yours. “Not sure what you ever saw in him.”

“Neither am I, anymore. I don’t know, maybe I just liked having someone really like me, as sad as that sounds. Dating is fun and exciting and… well, it’s supposed to be. God knows it isn’t, for me.”

Declan slides his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side to keep the evening chill at bay. You can hear the ruckus from inside, everyone in the bar carrying on as usual.

“I think you just keep choosing the wrong men, darlin’. Don’t swear off dating just because of a few bad apples.”

“I mean, I haven’t dated anyone since Spencer, and that finished eight months ago. I’d rather stay single than date any more of these posh boys who’ve never worked a day in their lives.”

He laughs, and the vibrations of it rumble through the both of you, settling into your bones. All you can think about is how warm he is and how good he smells and how if you leaned in an inch to your left, you could kiss him right on the cheek.

“What if it’s me?” you can’t help but ask quietly. “What if I’m the reason I can’t find someone?”

“What?”

“I mean, I work for Rupert - which I love - but my job is my life now. He’s a handful as it is, and now with all the Venturer stuff… all I do is work. And I know I’m not pretty like Taggie or powerful and bossy like Cameron but-”

“You’re beautiful.”

Declan stops you in your tracks, his interruption derailing your train of thought completely.

“I- what?”

“Sweetheart, the only reason I noticed that prat Spencer earlier was because I was already looking at you.”

“You were?”

“I always am.”

“… Why?”

“I don’t know, exactly. It’s like this… gravitational pull. You light up a room.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” you chuckle nervously.

“I wish it was.”

You don’t know what to say, so you lean further into his side, resting your head on his broad shoulder and breathing him in.

“I would have said something sooner,” he murmurs, “but Rupert would fucking kill me.”

“He’s not my keeper, Declan.”

“No, but he’s your boss. And for all intents and purposes, your big brother.”

He rests his head atop of yours, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“How’s your hand?”

“Perfectly fine,” he laughs, squeezing your thigh. “I’ll make a full recovery.”

“Thank God for that.”

Declan turns his body so he can look at you properly, big hands coming up to cradle your face. Neither of you say anything, waiting with tense anticipation for the other person to move first.

You surprise yourself by leaning in and planting a kiss on his lips, chaste and testing the waters. You begin to overthink everything the minute you pull back, worried that you’ve misread his kindness. As if he can read your mind, he tangles a hand into your hair and tugs you back into him, kissing you with a passion you’ve never experienced before.

His tongue slips into your mouth cheekily as you let him take the lead, happy to surrender the control to him. You’ve dreamt about this, late nights in bed spent wondering if the real thing would live up to your imagination. It definitely does.

Eventually, you both pull away, panting and flushed. You can no longer feel the chill in the air, the warmth of Declan keeping the cold at bay.

“Don’t tell Rupert,” he whispers, dirty smirk written across his face.

You can’t help but laugh, giddy off of the weight of the moment. Before tonight, you’d begun to accept that you might have been slightly delusional when it came to Declan - reading into his fingers brushing yours when you handed him something, him winking at you across the room, his palm pressing into your back as he walked past. Now you know - it wasn’t delusion. They were signals.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Secret’s safe with me.”

He pecks your lips again quickly before standing up, outstretching his hands for you to grab so he can pull you with him.

“You wanna go back inside?”

“No, think I’m done for the night.”

“Will you let me walk you home?”

You look at him smiling down at you all soft and sweet, and realise instantly that you’re in trouble. This isn’t something either of you are going to be able to just brush past. This’ll be haunting both of your memories every single day until it happens again.

“I’d like that.”

“Come on then, sweetheart. Lead the way.”

Declan links his fingers with yours, happy to let you steer him in the right direction. Neither of you say much. You don’t need to.

The way his palm fits perfectly against yours tells you both everything you need to know.

@lostinthefandoms11 @prettycoolgirl @buzzcutlip

don’t make me give the reblogs are invaluable to your writers speech again… i’ve given it one too many times… but you know the deal… reblog if you enjoyed and I shall write more for you <3

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rose24207 · 3 months ago

Text

Roseee’s Masterlist

Roseee‘s Masterlist pt.2 prompts

Genre

Mafia - 🖤

Angst - 💔

Fluff - 💗

Suggestive - ❤️‍🔥

Dark - 🩶

Humor - 💛

Squid game

The Salesman:

• How my dad does it 💔💗

-> Ji-Woo imitates her father’s Ddakji game at school, offering chocolate for wins and punches for losses, believing it’s what he would do, forcing her parents to reevaluate the lessons she’s learning from him.

• Just a Salesman 💔🩶

-> Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

-> pt.2

Player 333 / Myung-gi:

• The Triangle’s Mercy 💔🩶

-> You defy the rules of life and death, sparing Player 333 on the field and pulling your gun on another player in the dormitory, leaving him questioning why a guard would protect him.

Spiderverse

Miles Morales!42:

• I got this 💗

-> Miles never lets anyone touch his hair except his mom, but when she’s not around, he just might make an exception.

• Web of feelings 💗💛{💔}

-> When Spider-Girl is dosed with a love potion and falls for her enemy, the Prowler, he must fight to undo the chaos while questioning if this fake love could ever become real.

• Ma Meilleure Ennemie 💔💗

-> Two enemies, bound by hatred and an undeniable connection, navigate a love-hate relationship where each becomes the other's greatest blessing—and worst curse.

Harry Potter

Fred Weasley:

• that’s rich 💔{💗}

-> After a painful breakup, Fred finds you in the depths of your heartache and confesses his regret, leading to an emotional confrontation that leaves you both questioning whether love and healing are still possible between you.

• new year, new chapter 💗

-> Fred’s New Year transforms into a celebration of love, family, and new beginnings as he learns he’s about to become a father.

• spinning into love 💗

-> During a game of Spin the Bottle, Fred’s jealousy over a harmless kiss pushes him to confess his long-hidden feelings for his best friend, leading to a heartfelt and love-filled moment.

• a second chance at forever 💔💗

-> After surviving the explosion that everyone believed had killed him during the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred reunites with you, who, overwhelmed with relief and love, proposes to him on the spot.

• Get a room💗

-> A disciplined Slytherin is tasked with tutoring the Weasley twins, but between Fred’s chaotic charm, George’s relentless teasing, and their combined knack for trouble, resisting their antics—and Fred’s growing affection—proves impossible.

• I‘m okay 💔💗

-> During the chaotic Battle of the Seven Potters, Fred is consumed with worry when his girlfriend is the last to arrive at the Burrow, battered but alive, prompting him to stay by her side all night, vowing never to let her face such danger alone again.

• Potions and Obsessions 🩶

-> in which Fred‘s crush gets caught in the middle of a love potion and instead of giving her the antidote, Fred is keeping her all to himself.

George Weasley:

• What they’re like 💔💗

-> George confronts his friends after overhearing hurtful comments about his Slytherin girlfriend, defending her fiercely and making it clear that their behavior won’t be tolerated.

• Lucky git💔

-> George hides his heartbreak as he gives Y/N advice on pursuing Fred, knowing he’ll never be the one she chooses.

• Forever and always 💔💗

-> On their wedding day, George comforts his bride after finding her placing flowers on her parents' grave, reminding her that their love and future together will always honor the ones she’s lost.

• Love beyond house colors💔💗

-> After a secret relationship strained by house rivalry, George proves his love for his Slytherin girlfriend by standing by her side after a Quidditch injury and publicly declaring their relationship.

• Home for Christmas 💗

-> George invites his nervous girlfriend to the Burrow for Christmas, reassuring her with his warmth and humor, and she quickly realizes she’s already part of the Weasley family’s chaotic love.

• Long day, warm night 💗

-> After a grueling day as an Auror, you come home to George, who lifts your spirits with a cozy dinner, heartfelt affection, and the perfect night of love and laughter.

• a dance too late 💗

-> George hesitates too long to ask his crush to the Yule Ball, only to discover she's going with Harry as friends, but amidst the festivities, he finds the courage to confess his feelings, leading to a magical evening spent together.

Formula 1

Lando Norris:

- The Norris Family - Mafia - 🖤

• When mom looses her cool 💔💗

-> You finally snap after you catch your kids lying about a party and afterwards teach them a lesson about responsibility.

• Party pact 💗{💔}

-> Amelia and Jacob, the spirited teenage children of a strict but loving Lando, attend a party where their bond is tested as Jacob protects his bold sister while ensuring they stay out of trouble and honor their father's trust.

• Unseen tears 💔{💗}

-> A mother struggles with emotional isolation and her distant family until her husband finally steps in to confront their children and begin mending their fractured bonds.

• Amelies Innocence 💔 {💗}

-> Lando’s kind and patient wife loses it when she finds her six-year-old daughter with a gun in her hand.

• Family Business 💗

-> An evening where Lando and his wife recognise themselves in their children.

• Shadows and Sunlight💗

-> In the dangerous world of Lando Norris, a ruthless mafia boss, his kind-hearted wife and their contrasting children create a family full of warmth, love, and the delicate balance between light and dark.

• The balance of Us💗{💔}

-> As Lando navigates his dangerous world, his fiercely curious daughter and gentle son test the delicate balance of their family, while his kindhearted wife remains his unwavering anchor in a life of chaos.

• A lesson in Strength and Kindness💗

-> When Jacob stands up for a bullied classmate and gets in trouble, Lando and Y/N work together to ensure their son learns the value of both strength and kindness, teaching him that standing up for others can be just as important as following the rules.

• Switching Sides 💗

-> In a day filled with business and adventure, Lando and Y/N teach their children the balance of strength and kindness, reminding them that family is their true source of power and purpose.

- Imagines -

• More than enough 💔💗

-> Lando, living a modest life, discovers that his girlfriend is a secret billionaire CEO and battles his feelings until she reassures him that he is her home and true happiness.

-> P2

• Right here 💗

-> Lando feels overlooked as you get carried away with friends at the club, but after expressing that he misses you, the two of you reconnect and focus on each other for the rest of the night.

• Tested 🖤💗💔

-> Lando, raised to see vulnerability as weakness, pushes through the flu to maintain his mafia image, but ultimately allows you to care for him when his facade cracks.

• Stress Shopping 🖤💔💗

-> After a heated argument, you storm off on a stress-shopping spree with Lando's card, prompting a call from his bank, but the fight ends in heartfelt apologies and a reminder of his love for you.

• No, you’re not 💔

-> You and Lando have been inseparable since childhood, both secretly in love with each other but too afraid to confess—he believes you deserve better than him, and you think his flings mean he could never see you that way, leaving your feelings tangled in unspoken fears of ruining your lifelong friendship.

• What she is to me🖤💔

-> In the ruthless world of power and betrayal, Lando’s desperate attempts to shield you from the darkness of his empire begin to unravel when a mysterious woman threatens to destroy the fragile trust between you both.

• why didn’t you tell me? 🖤💔💗

-> Lando discovers you’re hiding your illness to avoid worrying him, leading him to care for you tenderly through the night, reaffirming how deeply you mean to him.

• Prom dress 💔💗

-> You sit with Lando after a disappointing prom night, as he reassures you that you don't need perfection to be valued and offers comfort, reminding you that you're not alone.

• Mr. Overthinking 💗

-> Lando navigates the overwhelming mix of excitement and fear about becoming a dad, constantly panicking but finding reassurance in your steady support.

• Nothings new 💔💗

-> Lando, overwhelmed by relentless bullying and emotional strain, reaches a breaking point, leading to a heartbreaking breakdown where he finally allows himself to cry and lean on you for comfort.

• mistletoe and mayhem 💗💛

-> Lando comes home to find you tipsy on Christmas Eve, takes care of your chaotic but endearing antics, and tucks you in with a smile.

• Winter depression 💔💗

-> Lando helps his girlfriend navigate the numbness of her winter depression with patience, love, and small acts of care, reminding her she’s never alone even in her darkest moments.

• In sickness and in secrets 🖤💔💗

-> When you break up with Lando to protect him from your illness, he uncovers the truth, confronts you, and promises to stay by your side, ensuring you receive the best care and his unwavering love.

• though the scope 🖤💔💗

-> Lando, unaware that his wife is the mysterious sniper who has been secretly protecting him, becomes obsessed with uncovering their identity while she struggles to keep her double life hidden to ensure his safety.

->P2

• sounds fun 💗

-> Lando, the shy and self-doubting "nerd" at school, slowly gains confidence as he bonds with you over shared interests, despite his moments of insecurity.

• bribary🖤💗💛

-> Lando Norris, a notorious mafia figure, struggles to get along with his girlfriend's cat, Milo, who constantly hisses and scratches at him, until Lando decides to win him over with a little bribery, resulting in an unexpected truce.

• Christmas shopping 💗

-> Lando carefully shops for thoughtful Christmas gifts for his girlfriend in Monaco, gracefully handling paparazzi attention as he envisions her joy on Christmas morning.

• racing hearts 💔💗

-> Lando panics over the fear of losing his F1 career if he marries his princess girlfriend, says hurtful things, loses her, and later learns from her father that his fears were unfounded, prompting him to win her back and reconcile.

• the weigh of words 💔💗

-> After a heated argument fueled by his frustrations on and off the track, Lando's harsh words pushes you away, forcing him to confront his guilt and fight to mend your relationship through heartfelt apologies and unwavering effort.

• unspoken doubts 💔💗

-> After a misunderstanding fueled by media rumors about Lando’s connection with Magui, you start to doubt their relationship, pulling away from him. But Lando’s commitment to you is unwavering, and he fights to clear the air, proving that his love for you is real and strong.

• stream interrupted ❤️‍🔥💗

-> While Lando is streaming, his focus shifts completely when he sees you dressed in a revealing Halloween outfit, leading to a steamy distraction that leaves both of you cutting the stream for a more private celebration.

• the way to her heart 🖤💗

-> Lando tries to impress you with his lavish lifestyle, but when he puts in the real effort to show you his true self—cooking dinner and building a blanket fort for a cozy night in—he finally wins your heart in a way money never could.

• native language 💗

-> Lando’s playful attempts at learning his partner’s native language bring them closer together, with each small phrase exchanged deepening their connection without the need for grand gestures or complicated words.

• background cuddles 💗

-> While Max Fewtrell tries to focus on his stream, chat becomes obsessed with Lando and you cuddling in the background, turning his gaming session into a hilariously chaotic third-wheel adventure.

• make them pay🖤💔💗

-> When your favorite café is shattered by violence and your friend needs help, you turns to your mafia husband, Lando Norris, to bring justice and restore peace to those you hold dear.

• an unlikely pair 💗

-> Lando has always had a crush on you , but you never really noticed him. When a teacher forces you to study together, you begin to get closer, but doubts arise when your ex teases Lando, making him feel like he’s just a tool for you to pass exams.

• if he gets too close…🖤💔💗

-> Lando breaks up with you to keep you safe from his dangerous world, but when you unknowingly agree to a date with one of his enemies, his protective instincts override his restraint, forcing him to confront both his feelings and the secrets he’s kept from you.

• soft for you 🖤💔💗

-> Lando Norris, a dangerous mafia leader, shows nothing but love and gentleness to his darling, but when she hears whispers of his darker side, he reassures her before taking ruthless action against the man who planted doubt in her mind.

• second chances 💔💗

-> After overhearing his son reveal how hard his mother works to make ends meet, Lando confronts his ex about her struggles and offers them both the stability and love they deserve

• Nerd in love 💗

-> A kind-hearted cheerleader befriends the school’s shy, bullied nerd, standing up for him and forming a heartfelt bond that defies expectations and whispers.

• Off-camera temptations 💗❤️‍🔥💛

-> Lando gets caught off guard when you flash him off-camera during a TikTok prank, but his playful confusion quickly turns into suggestive teasing

• you matter more 🖤💔💗

-> After a misunderstanding involving an unwanted kiss, Lando proves his loyalty to the you by confronting you, clearing up the truth, and eliminating any threat to their relationship

• more than enough 🖤💔💗

-> After overhearing gossip that shakes your confidence in your relationship, you begin to pull away from Lando, only for him to confront your fears head-on and prove his unwavering love and commitment.

• Dinner with a little fame 💗💛

-> Lando meets your family at a chaotic dinner where your parents are clueless about his fame, but your teenage brother’s over-the-top reaction exposes his celebrity status, leading to hilarious misunderstandings and eventual acceptance.

• Tangled hearts 💔💗

-> After a one-night affair leads to an unexpected pregnancy, Lando falls for you, but when you overhear gossip about him dating someone else, you pull away, only for him to reveal he was planning to ask you on a date all along.

• By my side 🖤💔💗

-> Mafia boss Lando Norris fights to prove his love to his maid after cruel gossip causes her to doubt their relationship, ultimately winning her trust and heart.

• Until someone shinier comes along 🖤💔💗

-> Y/N wants to break up with Lando after a cruel guest claims he’ll leave her for someone better. Learning the truth, Lando confronts the guest and reassures Y/N of his unwavering love.

• Yours to protect 🖤💔💗

-> After your toxic ex shakes your confidence, Lando reassures you of his love—but secretly plans to ensure your ex never hurts you again.

• Fake or real? 💗💛

-> A fake proposal for free dessert turns real when Lando confesses his love, changing their prank into something genuine.

• Rivals or lovers? 💔💗

-> Lando and his teammate, initially fierce rivals, slowly begin to realize their unspoken attraction for each other, transforming from enemies to lovers as they confront their fears and vulnerabilities.

• Not now. Not ever 🖤💔💗

-> Lando, consumed by anger during a fight, unknowingly frightens you, causing you to flinch and pull away, leaving him devastated by the realization that he made you fear him and determined to earn back your trust.

• Little secret 🖤💔💗

-> Lando Norris, a mafia boss, falls for a woman hiding her past with an abusive ex and a child she’s trying to protect.

• Brothers bestfriend 💔💗

-> Lando and Carlos younger sister secretly fall in love, risking their relationship with Carlos when the truth comes out.

• Hidden in plain sight 💗💛

-> Lando secretly dates Zak Brown’s daughter, but everyone already knows.

• You belong to me 🖤🩶💗

-> Lando becomes possessive and jealous when he finds you dancing with one of his men at his club, and demands your attention for himself.

• He‘s mine 🖤💔💗

-> Lando tracks you down after two years and discovers your son, vowing to protect you both and rebuild your trust.

�� That‘s my girl 🖤💗

-> The girlfriends of illegal street racers compete in a high-stakes race, with you driving Lando’s car to victory and surprising everyone, including Lando, with your skills.

• Prove it 🖤💔💗

-> In a tense and emotional confrontation, you try to leave Lando out of fear, but he proves his unwavering love and devotion, vowing to change and earn your trust.

• Tiny💗

-> Lando overcomes his fear of holding his tiny newborn daughter, discovering an overwhelming love and sense of responsibility that changes him forever.

• Fine line💔💗

-> After a painful breakup with Oscar, you find unexpected love and healing with his teammate Lando, navigating the complexities of loyalty, heartbreak, and new beginnings.

• Hidden past🖤💔💗

-> Lando discovers his girlfriend’s secret criminal past, born from her desperation to protect her family, and vows to stand by her side despite her insistence on handling it alone.

• Misunderstanding 🖤💔💗

-> A misunderstanding over cryptic texts from Lando’s sister leads to heartbreak and confrontation, but ultimately strengthens the trust and love between him and his girlfriend.

• Copacabana 💗💛

-> A stunning performance on Let’s Dance sees you and Lando sharing an undeniable chemistry as you dance to Copacabana, captivating the audience with your graceful moves, bold connection, and breathtaking energy, leaving everyone in awe of your magical partnership.

• bound by blood and fate🖤💔💗

-> After a devastating breakup, Lando is pulled back into your life when an accident reveals not only your fragile state but also the existence of the baby he never knew you carried, forcing him to confront his love for you and his vow to protect his growing family

• Right time🖤💔💗

-> When an intruder threatens your life, Lando's protective instincts take over as he saves you and vows to eliminate any danger, all while you help him find solace in the aftermath.

• Is there someone else?🖤💔💗

-> When Lando grows distant and secretive, leading you to suspect infidelity, you uncover his dangerous efforts to protect you from a rival threatening his place in the criminal underworld.

• shattered trust💔{💗}

-> Lando dumps you for another woman, but soon regrets it and tries to win you back.

• Fourth time‘s the Charm💗💛

-> In which Lando tries to confess to you but gets interrupted every single time.

• The Rookie’s Mistake🖤🩶💗

-> In which a Rookie makes a mistake by unknowingly flirting with someone that belongs to Lando.

• Shadows🖤💔💗

-> Lando’s ruthless mafia life is shaken when his vulnerability, Y/N, becomes a target, forcing him to protect her at all costs.

• The heirs weakness 🖤💗

-> there is only one person who can crack Lando's shell infront of his men.

• Simp sessions and sliding into DM‘s💗💛

-> Y/N openly simps for Lando Norris during a Beta Squad video, and he surprises her by sliding into her DMs.

-> P2

• Interrupted Stream 💗💛

-> Lando is streaming and the chat seems to like his girlfriend more than him.

• Safe Place 💗💛

-> feeling exhausted, Lando calls his girlfriend for a night to allow himself to relax.

• Worth it? 💔

-> after a regretful night, Lando realises how much he really messed up and if it was even worth it?

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hxxi3, @same1995, @amatswimming

498 notes · View notes

ichorai · 6 months ago

Text

i'm not made by design ; part two ; jaime lannister.

part one.

pairing ; jaime lannister x stark!reader (she/her pronouns)

synopsis ; wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

words ; 9.0k

themes ; heavy angst, action, fluff, (actual) enemies to lovers, slowburn

warnings / includes ; war/murder/injury, this part covers a few events from a feast for crows, politicking, mentions of incest/rape, foul language, animal cruelty, a lot of generally terrible things going on but what else can you expect from asoiaf, lots of dreams, jaime is a morally grey delight in this part yes, they are being HAUNTED by each other!

a/n ; wow, it's been a long time coming! ok i know this part is quite short and doesn't yet get to where you guys probably want to be, but tumblr has a max limit of 1k text blocks per post now (boo everyone throw tomatoes) so i'll be posting the rest of the story in smaller chunks! expect the third part to be coming soon, and i promise part three will start off exactly where you guys want it to be :) also if any of you can spot any sort of parallels in this part i will kiss you on the Mouth .

main masterlist. read on ao3!

The wintry breeze tousled the two young Stark girls’ hair, whispering frost into their ears. The horse the two were riding whickered as it galloped through the snow. Lyanna was exclaiming something, something lost to the wind, and you only held all the tighter to her from behind.

“Lyanna, I want to get off!” you yelled, tugging at the furs draped over her. “Lyanna, let me off!”

Your older sister laughed some more. Not wickedly, but more out of fond amusement. She slowed the horse down to a languid canter, then to a trot, and led the stallion towards the shade of a tree. There was snow blanketing the branches and the grass which crunched beneath her weight as she swung down. She looked up at you with her large grey eyes, crinkled at the corners as she grinned boyishly. “Were you frightened?”

You held your arms out for your sister to help you down. Only at eight years of age, you were still of short stature, and Lyanna had picked a rather tall horse. She had always been a voracious rider, even more so than all your brothers.

“I wasn’t frightened,” you indignantly replied as she wrapped her arms about your waist and pulled you down onto the ground.

“Right.” She began to stroke the stallion’s mane, his hooves pawing at the snow. “Do you not trust me, then? Did you think I would ride us right off the edge of a cliff?”

“No,” you replied, scuffing your boots against the snow. “I don’t like riding from behind. I can’t see anything from back there.”

There was a moment of silence before Lyanna reached over to ruffle your hair—an action that both she and Benjen often did. Eddard and Brandon often spared you from such irritations, but being the youngest of the family, you were always doted on and hovered over and babied.

“I don’t trust you riding a horse as big as this, so I suppose we can walk back. It’s not too far.”

“Why can’t I just sit in front of you?”

Your sister stuck her tongue out at you. “We’ve got something in common, you know. What makes you think I like sitting behind?” When you glowered at her, she went on, “Let’s get a move on. Ned will complain that I’m stealing you away—especially since he’s just returned. He misses you. Your letters grow briefer and briefer, he tells me.”

You were none too happy about trudging through the snow, but you voiced no complaint and walked alongside your sister, who tugged at the horse’s reins to follow along.

“He’s always going back and forth,” you said, a small frown marring your features. “I wish he would just stay home. The Eyrie couldn’t possibly compare to Winterfell.”

“You know him.” Lyanna’s dark hair was speckled with snowflakes as she turned to you. “Studious and dutiful as ever.” Her voice went an octave deeper and she pulled a mockingly somber expression in a startling resemblance to Ned. You let out a small laugh at that.

“Last time he visited, you were betrothed,” you said, your voice shrinking to a whisper.

The amusement died away from her eyes, turning stony. “Yes. Though I doubt it will be a fruitful union.”

There were a few more seconds of silence as you considered her words, not entirely sure why she would think so. Robert was loud and robust the few times you’ve met him, but you knew little else of Ned’s friend.

“Do you think he’ll bring a wedding proposal for me this time?”

Lyanna’s features contorted with surprise. “Why? Do you want to be married?”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, despite the frost settling over your skin. “Well—if Father says I have to, then I will.”

“I didn’t ask about Father,” replied Lyanna. It was hard for her to believe that you were only eight sometimes. You always tried to act older than you actually were. “I asked about you.”

Winterfell grew larger and larger as the two of you drew nearer to the castle gates. Home.

“I don’t think I’d mind getting married,” you told your sister, eyes downcast and brows pulled together in thought. “As long as I get to stay in Winterfell. I never want to leave.”

Lyanna smiled, all teeth and cheek. “Wouldn’t that be a dream?” she sighed.

The rest of the short journey was made in relative silence, and you left your sister and the tall stallion by the stables (not without her ruffling your hair one last time), and you dashed up to the castle chambers where you knew Ned would be.

He carried no proposals, only a few books he thought you would enjoy and a warm hug.

You awoke with a startled gasp, kicking at the thin blanket that laid over your form. It took you several moments to realize where you were. A boat. Rocking steadily, back and forth and back and forth. You rubbed at your sleepy eyes whilst drawing your knees up to your chest, still blinking away remnants of your dream.

Lyanna. Ned. Still young, still practically children.

One of the tongueless little birds stood in the doorway. It was an ominous sight. Her eyes were large and unblinking, glinting like glass balls within her small head. In her hands was a wooden bowl, full of what looked to be a poultice of sorts. She drew nearer, and the heavy scent of honey and flowers reached your nose.

“What is it?” you asked the child, a coil of pity winding in the pit of your stomach. You knew they couldn’t respond—Varys had stolen not only their youth, but their voices, too. “Is this food?”

A foreign delicacy of sorts, maybe? An Essosi dessert you weren’t familiar with, perhaps. It looked quite unappetizing, though you knew you had no room to complain.

The girl shook her head, then pointed to your hair, which was pulled back into a braid. You understood from just that, and nodded your thanks while accepting the bowl from her. This was hair dye, made from a blend of flowers and other substances you couldn’t name. You supposed it was a necessary precaution—you had an unmistakable Northern look to you, and would surely stick out like a sore thumb here down South. Dyeing your hair and cutting it short would help to somewhat conceal your identity. Short enough, and perhaps you could even be mistaken for a man, at least at a first quick glance.

The little girl left a dagger and a small, rusty, hand-held mirror by your legs and disappeared from your cabin in complete silence, as if she was never there in the first place. They were like ghosts, this crew of children. Everything was so quiet all the time, with only your thoughts and the ocean waves to accompany you.

You unbraided your hair and shook it loose. Hair carried memories. Memories of Catelyn showing you how hair was done in the Riverlands, memories of Benjen tugging at your hair to tease you, memories of Jaime commenting on how your hair was a lovely shade of animal waste. That had been grumpily remarked earlier on, when you and Brienne were escorting him to King’s Landing. Before Locke and Roose Bolton and… Robb.

You propped up the rust-spotted mirror against the wall and scooped up the dagger. The reflection that met you was only barely recognizable. You looked so tired. With a resigned sigh, you began to slice off your hair with the sharp blade. Handfuls fell to the ground. You sliced and sliced until your head felt light and your neck was bare. It’s never been this short before. If Benjen were here, you knew he would surely laugh at you. Brandon would comment that he never knew he had another brother.

Yes, you thought. I can surely pass as a man if I wanted to. Though you certainly shared many features with your sister, you hadn’t the wild beauty Lyanna had. No, you were far plainer than her, colder and sharper than she was. Nothing worthy to note—though your father, quiet as a man he was, once told you that you looked the most like your mother out of all your siblings. That had made you feel more beautiful than anything.

Plain was good, though. Plain meant no eyes would be drawn to you.

You weren’t too sure what color your hair would turn with this dye. You lathered the thick paste over your newly-cut strands, massaging it into your scalp. Your nose twitched from the strong odor—not entirely unpleasant, but also wasn’t a delight breathing in.

As you rinsed your hands of the dye, your skin was left with a slight copperish stain. You stared at the color with sad eyes—would your hair turn out red like Cat’s? Like all your nephews and Sansa?

And, like a fool, you wondered if Jaime would like short, red hair. He wouldn’t care much, you found yourself thinking, perhaps wishfully so. Did you want him to care?

Two children brought you food—rations of dried meat and crusty bread. You wolfed half of it down and handed them the other half. Though they couldn’t speak, the children made for pleasant company. Or perhaps you were just lonely. It was hard to tell.

After eating, you rinsed out the hair dye and wrung the water out with a cloth over the edge of the ship. The cloth came away stained bright red. You retreated back into the cabin to look at the mirror.

It was a shock to see your hair resemble Catelyn’s. It was darker than hers had been, but the auburn, orange-red sheen to your head was unmistakable. You looked like a Tully! You nearly laughed with amazement, but any sort of joy was short-lived, and you lapsed into more silence.

You laid on the rickety bed, thinking of Winterfell and your now-scattered family. Robb and Ned and Cat and the younglings Bran and Rickon might have been taken from you, but… you still had family left. Sansa and Arya could very well be scattered somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, alive and breathing. Jon, at the Wall, as well. At least, you hoped. It’d been so long since your time sending letters to the young boy. Was he hurt that you stopped sending them so suddenly?

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you drew your knees to your chest, willing yourself into a restless slumber.

Days came and went. The little children were growing more agitated, fluttering about the boat with wide eyes and quick feet. They tossed nets overboard into the water—masquerading the boat as a fishing vessel, you assumed. There were many ships out and about Blackwater Bay. Some carried banners of houses loyal to the crown, and others were bannerless. Pirates or fishermen, you couldn’t tell.

So far, all other ships have passed by quietly. But the risk grew with each day. You knew Tywin and Cersei would likely order more fleets to be sent after you, Sansa, and Tyrion. The chances of you being found on water would grow each day—and you couldn’t risk becoming a prisoner again. Jaime wouldn’t be able to help you escape a second time, not with Cersei around.

At least on foot… you had somewhere to run. Being on sea left you nothing but water for miles on end.

And so you told the silent children to let you off at the nearest fishing port. Some part of you wondered if they would object, but they stared at you with round, moon eyes and nodded. You didn’t know whether to thank or damn Varys.

The ship docked in the dead of night, half a mile from Duskendale. One of the little children handed you a map and tapped at where they’d leave you. A pouch full of food rations, more dye, and other necessities was left on your cot. You thanked the child endlessly, who seemed not to hear your gratitude and scuttled away. You grabbed the pouch, the dagger, the bow and quiver full of arrows Varys had presumably left you, and slipped into a large cloak.

Land felt like it was lurching beneath your feet once you stepped onto the pier. Your body was used to the swaying motions of the waters, and would take some time to adjust. You gingerly shook one of your booted feet. The children watched you disembark on wobbly legs, but you dared not wave back at them.

Despite it being nighttime, the docks were busier than ever. Fishermen and merchants littered all over the shore, some selling products and entertainment and others working hard to gather more to sell before day broke. You steeled yourself with a deep breath, and made your way through the busy crowd.

You began trekking your way North towards the Eyrie, the hood of your cloak pulled over your short, red hair.

It took nearly three weeks for you to reach the Crossroads. Nightfall was nearing when you strode in front of the inn, the sky a mirage of bleeding reds from the setting sun and moody greys from the rainclouds. The air smelled of mud and rusted metal. It was certainly no grand castle, but a modest bed was better than sleeping on the cold dirt you’ve been curled up on the past several days. There was a young girl and a dark-haired boy by the front that looked somewhat like your memory of Robert Baratheon twenty-some years ago. At first, the boy denied your request for shelter, but reluctantly clammed up once you offered him some gold, worth more than it ever could in times of war. The two let you pass with not a word more.

Greeting you inside was a ruckus of loud children. Parentless, you realized, as there were none to be seen within the inn’s walls. An inn full of orphans, you thought with a touch of sadness. In that regard you supposed you shared a similarity with all of them.

Just as you slipped onto one of the creaking wooden stools to momentarily rest your weary feet, you overheard a voice. A familiar voice. Low and raspy and unmistakably—

Brienne, you thought, wide-eyed. But she wasn’t alone. A young boy was by her side, yes, that was Podrick, and an older man—a knight, by the looks of his armor, and an even older septon with grey hair and a hunched back. What a queer party Brienne was leading. She was supping on porridge and salted cod.

The impulsive part of you wanted to call out for her and rush to her side, ask if she had found any sign of Sansa, or if she had made any progress on her quest. Instead, you drew in a deep breath, and stood from your stool to take a seat across from Podrick whilst Brienne was busy speaking to the knight. The young squire made a half-gasping, half-choking noise once his eyes raised from the cup he was draining to your cold eyes, recognizing you immediately. You discreetly lifted a finger to your lips to silence him. His eyes went moon-round and he nodded once.

Brienne ignored the knight’s constant jabbering about lips and marriage and castles full of children, and turned to look at her squire in mild concern of him choking on a fish bone. But her eyes landed on you, and her mouth dropped open.

She was very near to bowing her head and saying, “My lady.” But she didn’t, knowing it would draw far too much attention, and stared at you with utter confusion plain over her features.

“Hello,” you said to her. “It has been a while, Brienne.”

“Do you know each other?” the knight bumped in. He spooned some porridge into his mouth.

“Brienne and I were childhood friends on Tarth,” you lied. “I was the son of a cook. A nobody in truth, but Brienne was kind enough to befriend me.”

Brienne was no good at lying, you knew this, but she nodded along to your story.

The knight looked you over. “A little runt boy and a grand beast of a girl. The two of you must have been a sight.”

You could only offer him half a shrug at that.

“What brings you here?” Brienne carefully asked you.

“Someone helped me leave,” you responded with equal caution. Avoiding the knight’s curious eyes, you leaned closer to Brienne. “Is there a place for us to speak with fewer naked children milling about?”

Being around Varys’ little birds for long enough taught you that children were oft smarter than they looked. Somewhere to your right, you saw one of the little orphan boys stick a nut inside his nostril.

Brienne nodded and led you just outside, away from prying ears and eyes. There, you told her everything. From Tyrion’s trial, to Oberyn’s death, to Cersei demanding you to be locked up or killed (whichever suited her taste that day), to Jaime helping you escape, to the birds on the boat, to your journey here. In turn, Brienne told you of her lengthy journey and what she had found on the way. Mostly nothing, lots of war and skirmishes. Sandor Clegane was dead, but Arya had been with him soon before that… not Sansa. The thought of Arya somewhere out there alive, sparked dangerous hope within your chest.

“Varys says Sansa is in the Eyrie, masquerading as Baelish’s bastard daughter.” The thought revolted you. “But I do wonder if the Eyrie is a trap of sorts. I cannot trust Varys. He certainly is no friend of the Lannisters, but neither is he their enemy. For all I know, he may be conspiring with dragons and grumpkins.”

“Sansa would be safe with her Aunt Lysa there, right?” Brienne asked, though even she sounded doubtful of her own question.

“I can’t quite say,” you said, brows furrowed. “Lysa is an unpredictable woman. Frightened and secluded is never a good combination of characteristics. Even so, I doubt Sansa would make her way home up North without being intercepted. It wouldn’t hurt to check the Vale first.”

Brienne nodded solemnly. “We can make our way first thing in the morning. For now, you must rest, my lady. You must be exhausted.”

The sudden reminder of the limitations of your body made your knees wobble. The past few days had you running on little else than adrenaline, fear, and meager portions of salted foods.

“I missed you, Brienne,” you whispered, looking up at her. “I fear trusted friends are few and far in between in these times.” Not that you ever had many friends to begin with. Everyone had always been so afraid of you—something Brienne could relate to.

The term friend dusted pink over Brienne’s large, crooked nose and broad, freckled cheekbones. She was certainly not pretty, not by a long shot, but that was of no matter to you. She was the most beautiful blessing you could have possibly encountered—your chances of survival and finding Sansa were far better with Brienne by your side.

“I missed you, as well,” Brienne managed to choke out after many moments of stunned silence. She had never been good with niceties. “Podrick has been company enough, but the boy is young and easily frightened.”

“I’m frightened, too,” you admitted. “One would be a fool not to be, with enemies at every turn. Young, however, is a trait I have long outgrown.”

Brienne looked up at the night sky. “Youth was a curse on me. I always looked older than I was.”

“Me, as well,” you mused with a thoughtful hum. Memories of the lords and ladies living at Winterfell’s court whispering behind your back… sending you strange looks of distant pity… veering far out of your way in fear of you… it weighed heavy on you, especially in your younger years. “My anger has aged me a decade, I think.”

Before Brienne could respond, there came a commotion of noise. Men on horses, their hooves schlocking through mud and puddles. Instinctively, you drew the cowl of your hood up over your head. They are armed, these men, you thought with grim unease. And there were many of them, just above half a dozen. Far too many for you and Brienne to take alone.

Brienne drew in a sharp breath at the sight of them and unsheathed Oathkeeper. She stepped in front of you before you could even begin to react. The biggest man of the party was so hefty that his beaten horse buckled and shook beneath the sheer force of his weight. His pale face was torn and wept with pus and blood. But Brienne’s eyes were drawn to his snarling helm—with its dull metal nose and sharp teeth of steel. It was the Hound’s property but the man wearing it was certainly no Hound.

The sky grew darker and the storm clouds thundered up above. The young girl that had greeted you into the inn had slammed the door open, now holding a crossbow. Whatever she was screaming was lost to the rain and thunder.

“Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them,” raged the man, his voice nearly as loud as the booming in the sky. Your chest rose and fell in silence as you slowly reached behind you to unsling your bow.

“Leave her be,” called out Brienne, drawing their attention. “If you want to rape someone, try me.”

The outlaws laughed and chortled at that. One japed about fucking horses before fucking her. The rest of their words were unintelligible to you as you focused on drawing an arrow without pulling too much attention to yourself. It proved to be a difficult task when there were seven pairs of eyes trained on Brienne, and, consequently, you, as well.

Brienne said something you couldn’t catch, leaving the man with the helm fuming. He charged forward through the mud. Brienne shuffled away from you—she needed the man to come to her, but not to get too close to you. You were her priority now.

A song of steel screeched through the rain-torn wind as their swords clashed. Brienne managed to cut through the rags of his tunic and slash a gaping hole in his cheap chainmail just before she just barely evaded his swinging axe. The man was screaming expletives at her—whore, bitch, freak.

You nocked the arrow with not a second thought.

Then the drawstring was split in two and you were left with a useless bow. One of the outlaws had made his way to you whilst you were concentrating on the man with the helm—and broke your favored weapon.

“Shhh,” he crooned as he laid the cold, wet blade of the knife he used to cut your bow against your throat. “Enjoy and watch the show, boy.” He must have thought you were one of the orphans that lived here—and not much of a threat, considering he pulled the knife away from you and made a show of pointing it towards Brienne and her attacker. “It’s not every day you see a woman like her battle a man like him.”

You nodded, playing along. You still had the dagger you used to cut your hair tucked against your hip. It was a touch too dull for your liking, but it would have to do for now. You had no other choice. With the man’s eyes drawn back to their messy duel, you drew its blade and drove it forth, straight into throat. His arms flailed for a second before clawing at your face and chest. Pain bloomed over your skin. If you were bleeding, you couldn’t feel it—not with all the rain pouring over you. You savagely tore the dagger out from his throat and drove it through his chest again and again and again. From your peripheral vision, you could see Brienne parry over and over, stab this way and that—and finally skewer her longsword straight through him until its pointy end protruded out his back.

You continued stabbing the man until he fell to the ground in a limp, bloodied heap. Even then you didn’t stop—straddling his waist and bringing the dagger down in furious strokes. It occurred to you that the other men would be upon Brienne a second too late—when you swung around, she was swarmed by the rest of them.

“Eddard!” she called, immediately halting you in your assault on the long-dead outlaw. It took you a moment to realize that she was addressing you, not wanting to call out your actual name. “Run! Run, now!”

Two of the outlaws were coming towards you.

“Brienne!” you yelled just as one of them sliced a cut through her shoulder she couldn’t properly roll away from. The rest of your protests caught in your throat when you watched one of them—one with wild eyes that had irises too small and teeth filed sharp—dive forward onto Brienne, sending her crashing to the ground. He bit a chunk of her face right off.

More men surrounded her. Punching, kicking, and slicing at your friend. No, you couldn’t see her anymore, where is she? Get up, Brienne, get up…

“GO!” you could hear her muffled voice scream. “NED, GO!”

No, no, no…

But if you stayed, you would be dead, as well. One of the outlaws made a grab for you, but you danced back. If not for the two slipping on the watery mud the very next second, you would have been dead.

With your heart beating in your throat, you turned on your heel and fled.

What was a kingsguard without his king? Jaime hadn’t been happy to be sent off to the Riverlands again—his place was beside Tommen. The boy-king with a golden crown sitting atop his golden curls. Cersei had insisted on him leaving, however. She’d grown more restless, more paranoid, more snappy since their father’s death. Lancel, his fool of a cousin, was now a religious fanatic who seemed to be intent on fasting until he passed from starvation, and had confessed his sins of lying with Cersei. Apparently he was not the only one. The Kettleblack brothers, the court fools, and hells, even serving girls, if word of mouth was to be trusted.

He felt a fool for ever loving her. And now she had kicked him out of the castle and away from his duty like one would a dirty mongrel.

Let her run the kingdom to ruin. See if I care.

Jaime wearily pulled at his face. That was the problem—he did care, and he knew he did. Cersei on the throne would mean little good for anybody. Not for his little brother, not for Brienne, not for you. He hoped you were safe, wherever you were.

The knight with one hand had had a long day, even though it was not yet nightfall. He had spoken to the Blackfish, Brynden Tully, in hopes of making some sort of negotiation. Perhaps goad him into a duel of single-combat and spare everyone of the grueling boredom that came with a slow siege. Expectedly, the wind-beaten lord took none of the bait and retreated back into his castle. Then, he had a short, but explosive council meeting with a few of the riverlords. They squabbled over each other like mindless birds over a piece of half-baked bread. Jaime couldn’t help but wonder what his father would do in his shoes, but was quick to relinquish such a thought. Tywin Lannister would never be in this position in the first place. And he was dead, which was perhaps the more important bit. After the council, he paid a visit to Ryman Frey, who was preoccupied fucking some whore who called herself a Queen. He had the big oaf dismissed for wasting so much time and resources, then named his son, Edwyn, command of the siege. He ordered young Edwyn to tell his great-grandsire, Walder Frey, to release all the prisoners for the crown. There was no undoing the Red Wedding, but he could, at the very least, attempt to rectify the troubles it left in its wake.

And now—now Jaime had one more person to visit.

It was his aunt, Genna Lannister, who had urged Jaime to do something about the sullen man with the noose loosely wrapped around his throat. In his state, he posed no danger physically. As a symbol, however, Edmure Tully, was a great danger to the cause. His cause? Jaime wasn’t entirely sure what he was fighting for anymore. It certainly didn’t feel like he was protecting Tommen from all these leagues away from him. His golden hand felt so very heavy strapped onto his stump—why did he still bother carrying it around?

Ilyn Payne made quick work of cutting Edmure Tully down from the wooden gallows he was perched upon. His hair, scraggly and red, hung in limp clumps over his dirtied, bloody face. Eyes deep blue, heavy with exhaustion. Jaime couldn’t help but think of Robb Stark at the sight of him. Gods, they looked alike.

Jaime had Edmure pulled through the tents and mass of Freys and other rivermen alike. One japed about a fish on a leash. A young man holding an instrument was amongst the throng of stares, and he ordered the singer to follow, and the lad obediently did. Onto a ferry they went, where the vessel would carry them to Tumblestone.

“Why?” Edmure has croaked, gripping weakly onto Jaime’s arm.

“Consider it a wedding gift,” Jaime replied.

The Tully eyed him warily. “A wedding gift?”

“I’ve heard your wife is pretty. She’d have to be, for the two of you to be abed whilst your sister and king were being murdered.” Jaime gave him a wry look.

“I never knew. There were musicians outside the bedchamber, I couldn’t…”

“I’m sure Lady Roslin made for a grand distraction, as well.”

At the crass insinuation, however truthful, Edmure frowned and pulled away from the knight. “They made her do it. She had little say in the matter. Roslin never wanted any of it to happen. She wept the entire night, but I thought…”

“You thought it was your rampant manhood that swayed her to tears? It’s a sight any woman would weep to, I’m sure.”

Edmure hung his head. “She is carrying my child.”

Your child or your death? Jaime thought, but tastefully decided not to say it out loud. Not yet. Instead, he asked, “Your king-nephew, Robb. Did he ever speak of his aunt before his end?”

Edmure lifted his gaze to the kingslayer at that. “The Bitter Wolf?” He thought for a moment, eyes distant. “No. She was hardly ever brought up. Robb didn’t like to speak of her. Not after her betrayal with your freedom. If he did speak of her, it would’ve been with Catelyn.”

“Who is now dead,” Jaime dryly said.

“Yes,” Edmured replied, letting his gaze drift down to the waters.

“Much help you are.”

“Where is she now? The Bitter Wolf.”

Jaime saw no point in lying to him. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the ferry trip was spent in silence.

Once at his pavilion, Jaime dismissed Ilyn, but kept the singer around. He ordered the servants there to boil bathwater for the honored guest, and had clean garments brought to him, along with warm food and sweet wine. Edmure still couldn’t quite comprehend why exactly Jaime Lannister was being so courteous, but couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of cleanliness. He clambered into the tub and started scrubbing the grime off his skin.

Jaime pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “After you’re clean and your belly is full, you will be escorted to Riverrun. What happens after that is up to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Jaime. “Your uncle is old. Valiant, admittedly, but his best years are behind him. He has no wife to grieve for him, nor children to succeed him. A good death is the most the Blackfish can wish for. You, however, have many years remaining to you. You are the rightful heir to House Tully, not him. Your uncle serves you, by law. Riverrun’s fate is in your hands.”

Edmure blinked at him. “I don’t…”

“Understand, I presume? All that time with a rope around your neck must have strangled you of all your wits.” Jaime was growing impatient. “You must yield the castle. Yield, and nobody dies. The smallfolk will be allowed to leave in peace, or they may serve Lord Emmon and his lady-wife, my aunt. Ser Brynden will be allowed to take the black and join the Night’s Watch, with as many of the garrison that choose to join. You, as well. The Wall is in dire need of more hands, I’ve heard. If that is not to your tastes, you may go to Casterly Rock as my captive and enjoy all the comforts and courtesy that befits a hostage of your rank. Your wife may join you. If your sire is a boy, he will serve House Lannister as a squire. Once he comes of age, he is welcome to earn his knighthood, along with some lands I will bestow upon him. If Roslin bears you a daughter, she will be well dowered until she is old enough to wed a fitting lord. You may be granted parole, even, once the war is done. All this only if you yield the castle.”

The water steamed and sloshed in the tub as Edmure gingerly shifted about. “And if I will not yield?”

The servants and squires were all listening. The singer watched the two speak with wide eyes. No matter. Let them all hear it.

“You’ve seen our numbers, Edmure. The ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my cousin will bridge your moat and break your gate. Blood will spill. Hundreds will die, most being your own people. Your former bannermen will be the first wave of attackers, so you will start your day by killing fathers, brothers, and sons of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, and there are plenty of them to spare. My westermen will be the third once your archers are exhausted of arrows and your knights so weary their blades will no longer lift from the ground. The castle will fall, and all inside will be put to the sword. Your livestock will be butchered. Your river will rot with corpses. Your godswood will fall. Your keeps and inventories will burn.” Jaime swallowed as he said the next words. It was true that he did not actually mean to do it, but a threat was a threat, and words are wind. “Your wife may have the child before any of this. You’ll want the babe, I presume. I can send him to you once he’s born. With a trebuchet.”

There came a lengthy silence. Edmure was still in the bath. All the servants and squires stared in horror.

Genna had told him earlier that he was not his father’s son. Tyrion was more Tywin’s than he could ever dream to be. Would her mind change if she had heard his speech? Was this what Tywin would have done?

“I could climb out of this tub and kill you right as you are, Kingslayer,” said Edmure, once he finally regained his wits about him.

“You could try,” Jaime calmly replied. The man made no move, so Jaime pushed himself back to his feet. “Enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest while he eats. You know the song, I trust.”

“The one about rain? Yes, my lord, I know it.”

Edmure’s head swiveled between the singer and Jaime. “No. I don’t want him. Get him away from me.” The tub water sloshed some more.

“Why, it’s just a song, Lord Tully,” said Jaime, feigning innocence. “His voice couldn’t be that bad.”

The knight left his pavilion with the beginnings of Rains of Castamere playing faintly behind him.

The inns you came across the road were growing sparse. Many had been torched, ransacked, abandoned, or torn down. War left much of the Riverlands in ruins. Though you were none too happy about the state of the lands, pillaged, empty villages meant there would be fewer people loitering about, which was all the better for you.

You had managed to outrun the outlaws through the cover of the storm and ruins. It was only when the rain cleared away did you let yourself sit down and silently cry for Brienne. None deserved a fate like that. She was so undeniably good, more honorable than any other man you’ve ever met—and yet her face was torn apart and now she was dead.

Eventually, you made it out of the Riverlands and began to travel along the high road up to the Eyrie. It was the safest option to get there—the mountains were hardly on the table to walk through on your own, considering it was likely running amok with clansmen and thieves of all sorts. Even on the high road, the terrain was far more mountainous than the relatively-level grounds of the riverlands, and the incline noticeably steeper. You were traveling at a much slower pace than before, growing ragged and tired with shorter distances.

On the third day on the narrow pathway towards the Bloody Gate, you came across two men on a cart. Merchants, perhaps. You spied the stacked wine casks in the back of the cart, wondering if they were empty. Surely they must be, you thought. The Vale is not likely to make any wine of their own, not with mountains as sheer as theirs.

As their cart slowly rolled by, being pulled by braying donkeys, you overheard one of the men say, “A singer, it’s said!”

“A singer?” the other merchant echoed.

“Yes, a singer! They say he shoved Lady Arryn right off a mountain.”

Lady Arryn? Your ears perked up at that. Did they mean Lysa?

He glanced at his companion dubiously. “I heard she threw herself out the door once she confessed her love to him.”

“That’s nonsense, have you seen the way she grips that sickly whelp of hers? She would never throw herself to her death whilst little Robin lives.”

That confirmed it. Lysa is dead?

“If I had a son like that, I’d do the very same,” he grumbled.

“Wait! Good sers!” you exclaimed, turning back to hurry after the cart. The donkeys whined protest as they were pulled to a slow stop. They both glanced back at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Sers?” The one with mousy brown hair piped up with a laugh lodged in his throat. “We are no knights.”

“Apologies, it’s a habit now, I fear. I simply wanted to know—” You stopped in your tracks. “What were you saying about Lady Arryn?”

“She’s dead, she is,” the older of the two merchants told you. His nose was crooked in three different places. “Out the Moon Door—or off the mountain—she flew.”

You stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether they were being serious or not. Tall tales such as this were not uncommon amongst the lowborn. “And who now rules in her stead?”

“Little Lord Robin is young still—”

“And far too sickly!”

“—Until he comes of age, Lord Petyr Baelish is Lord of the Vale.”

Littlefinger. The realization dawned on you with great unease as you recalled his infatuation with your good-sister and his alliances with the crown. Lannister crowns. This was no good… no good at all…

“Thank you,” you told the merchants. “That’s good to know.”

“Where are you off to?” said the younger one.

“Runestone,” you lied. “I have family there.”

That seemed to appease them well enough. The one with brown hair waved farewell as he set the donkeys back into motion. You silently thanked the Gods for coming across decent men. You watched the cart of wine caskets descend down the path.

Now what? You could hardly stroll straight into the Vale now—not with the threat of Littlefinger handing you right back into Cersei’s mad hands. Should you even trust these rumors, though? Perhaps the septon at the Bloody Gate could clarify the situation for you. Surely he would tell you the truth. But getting there would take weeks, and you certainly didn’t have that sort of time. If word of Littlefinger’s rule in the Eyrie was true, you would be wasting even more time doubling back to escape. And if he heard of your presence in the Vale there was no telling what he would do… have you locked up and sent to Cersei in a cage?

But what about Sansa? Your heart shattered at the thought of leaving her alone at the Eyrie with Baelish. You had to be smart about this. Even if Sansa was in the Vale, and if you managed to get to her, and if you could whisk her out of the castle undetected, there was nowhere for the two of you to go that would be safe. Sansa wouldn’t last a fortnight out in the wilderness. Gods forbid, but perhaps it was best for her to stay in the Eyrie until you managed to find a stronghold that would keep her safe and protected.

Then again, she could just as likely be elsewhere in Westeros. Arya, too. Gods, you wished Brienne was with you. You could still see the blood spurting from her face, her screams cracking through the thunderous air.

Damn you, Jaime. You should have come with me, you said to yourself, knowing it was a foolish chain of thought. He wouldn’t be much help, anyway. All he did when we traveled together was complain and find new ways to irritate me.

You lingered on the path for a few more moments. Then, you frustratedly gestured to nobody, made a noise of displeasure, and turned to follow after the wine merchants.

Back to the Riverlands you went.

Riverrun was now taken, but at a great cost. Brynden the Blackfish had escaped. All thanks to Jaime’s carelessness and Edmure’s wit. This would never have happened if Tywin was around, Jaime couldn’t help but lament. It was no wonder his aunt Genna told him he was nothing like his father.

He was a fool, and his father knew it.

After a series of threats to both Edmure and his wife, the Tully lord managed to sullenly tell him what he knew of the Blackfish’s whereabouts. Which, to Jaime’s dismay, was very little.

“He swam away,” Edmure had told him. He had the very same blue eyes as Catelyn did, as well as Robb. The very same look of loathing in them, as well. There was a time when you looked at him like that. “The Water Gate’s portcullis was raised. Not enough to be noticed, only three feet or so. My uncle is a strong swimmer. He pulled himself beneath the spikes and I can only assume the current helped him from there.”

Damn it all.

Jaime had hounds and hunters on the prowl for the Blackfish, but he had little hope of catching him. And Edmure was to be heading west the following morning. Jaime was glad to be rid of him, though he worried that the man would slip through the guards he would be traveling with. The knight wasn’t too keen on hunting for the Tully a third time.

News of Ryman Frey’s death was brought to him by young Edwyn, the former’s son. Hanged, apparently, by a band of outlaws nearby Fairmarket, which was boldly close by. Thoros, or Dondarrion, or this mysterious Stoneheart woman. There was little to do about the matter now—Jaime ordered more guards posted and that was that.

That night, he practiced his shoddy, left-handed swordsmanship with the silent Ilyn Payne. He managed to last a grand total of three hours before giving into his cramping muscles’ begs for a rest. Afterwards, he poured the both of them cups full of Hoster Tully’s wine, and told Payne of how he used to kiss his sister when they were children. It was innocent at first, until it wasn’t. It felt nice being able to freely tell someone of everything knowing he couldn’t possibly relay such information to anybody else—Payne’s lack of a tongue ironically made Jaime chattier than ever.

“Tyrion once told me that whores oft avoid kissing their patrons. They’ll fuck you until your legs fall off, he said, but they keep their lips far from yours. It’s what separates work from real romance. I wonder if my sister ever kissed Kettleblack.” Jaime thought for a long moment. “I kissed the Bitter Wolf.”

Payne spared him no reaction.

“She was crying.” Jaime took a sip of wine, leaving out the fact that he had shed a tear or two. “Not because of the kiss, though. I hope not, at least. I’m not that bad of a kisser. Cersei never cried when we kissed.” Though, after he said that, he realized basing his assumptions around Cersei wasn’t a particularly smart thing to do. You and Cersei were many leagues apart from one another.

Payne drained his cup and gestured for Jaime to refill it.

As he did, Jaime went on. “If not for Tyrion’s reckless call for a trial by combat, I would have married her. The Bitter Wolf. We would be at Casterly Rock, and Tyrion would be at the Wall, and my father would still be alive, and my son would sit the Iron Throne, and all would be well. Or not. Cersei would make matters difficult. I doubt Y/N would be pleased about her predicament, either, come to think of it.”

He decided to change the subject back to Kettleblack when Payne’s silence stretched for a little while longer.

“It would be ill-fitting to slay mine own Sworn Brother. I should geld him and send him to the Wall—make up for Tyrion’s loss in some way. He’s been to the Wall, perhaps he had no taste for returning. It’s bloody cold there, I’ve heard. Of course, if I were to lay a hand on Osmund, there would be his brothers to consider, as well. Brothers can be dangerous. Aegon the Unworthy had Ser Terrence Toyne dismembered into pieces after finding him abed with his mistress, and forced her to watch. Toyne’s brothers tried to kill the King for it, though their plans were ultimately foiled by the Dragonknight. It’s written in the White Book. All of it, including every knightly deed and chivalrous act. It doesn’t tell me what to do with Cersei, though.”

Ilyn dragged a finger across his scarred throat.

“No,” Jaime said. “Tommen has already lost a brother, and the man he thinks is his father. If his mother were to die by my hand, he would hate me for it. I’m sure his sweet little wife would use that hatred to her benefit, as well.”

An ugly smile stretched at Ilyn’s thin lips. Jaime misliked the crude gleam in his eye.

“You talk too much,” Jaime told the mute.

The next night, Jaime found himself in Hoster Tully’s solar, looking over a map, wondering where the Blackfish could have gone. Many of his hunters had returned that morning, torn and bleeding. Direwolves, they had told him. A monstrous pack with a large she-wolf leading them. He wondered if that could have been the wolf that had mauled Joffrey what had felt like a lifetime ago.

In consequence, Jaime couldn’t help but wonder about you. Did the direwolves like you at all? He strained his mind to remember, but couldn’t seem to recall. It confused him when his chest constricted at the thought of forgetting you.

The war was practically won. Dragonstone was taken, and Storm’s End would be very soon. Stannis was welcome to the cold fruits of the Wall—if Roose Bolton hadn’t already destroyed him. And the Riverlands were successfully taken without Jaime ever having to raise a sword against neither Stark nor Tully. All in all, he was to be content.

But where did that place you? Once everything calmed down, what would happen to you? To Sansa, who surely deserved no harm that would come to her? She was just a young girl and you… you were far from the paragon of innocence, to be certain, but surely he could have Tommen pardon you for any of your crimes. Your crimes being allegiance to your own nephew, which Jaime could hardly fault you for.

Then again, Cersei was the problem. There was no chance she would sit idly by and let you live. Once he returned to King’s Landing, he had to find a way to whisk Tommen from her crutches before he would turn as corrupt as Joffrey. A new council full of abled men would be in order, as well.

More and more days passed. Jaime had the entire Tully garrison safely released from their keep, which displeased his Aunt Genna greatly, but Jaime was intent on letting them go. There was little harm they could do when they were scattered, weaponless, and hungry.

He dreamed of Cersei most nights. Of her golden hair, which then molded into golden hands. In his dreams, he always had two hands. Sometimes touching her, stroking her, holding her—dreamy memories of old. Sometimes he was strangling her, which he certainly had never done before.

Other nights he dreamed of Brienne. Her big, brutish face red with rage and exhaustion. She would swing Oathkeeper at his neck and he awoke just before his head rolled off his shoulders.

Some of the nights, however scarce they were, were far more precious. He dreamt of you, your hair freckled with snow, your eyes alight as you watched children play beneath you. He was in Winterfell, he realized, and with a shocked start looked back down at the children. His? No. They were your nieces and nephews, of course. Their faces were a blur, but their red hair was unmistakable. Save for the littlest girl and the bastard boy. Snow, Jaime remembered.

“We should have one,” your dream-self said to him, so serious that Jaime wondered if it was actually you standing there in front of him. “A little wolf-lion.”

Did Jaime want that? Would they have golden hair like his? Like Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen? But how could he have another child when he was never a father to the ones he already had? It felt wrong to even consider it. Dishonorable. Any romantic notion of a normal life with you was quickly dashed.

“I know we can’t,” you continued on before he could respond. “They’re all dead.” You gestured down to the Starklings. “And I’ll be joining them soon. But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

“No—” he said, reaching out to you, but you had already faded into a blur.

Not all of his dreams with you were as bleak. Once he was abed with you, and another time he was bound by rope as you pointed an arrow at his forehead while he cackled maniacally.

A week after releasing the last of the garrison, Jaime woke up with a start after dreaming about a cloaked figure that looked eerily similar to Cersei, though he knew it wasn’t her. His mother spoke soft riddles, where Cersei would bark harsh insults. He couldn’t quite tell which he favored. He threw the covers off him with his stump.

The room was frigid. The hearth’s warmth had waned away and the windows had been left pushed open when he fell asleep. In the darkness, Jaime made his way to close the shutters, but his foot touched against a wetness on the ground. Blood had been his first thought, but blood would not be so cold. Rain, perhaps, but he would have heard the sound of pattering coming from outside.

Jaime drew the damp curtains apart, letting the moonlight stream through. Moonlight and snow. Down below, the yard was spotting with white, growing thicker and thicker in the minutes he watched. After a moment, he even began to see his breath misting in front of him.

Winter is here, he thought. Marching south, and our granaries are half empty.

He watched the snow fall, and stood there thinking of you. It irked him that you haunted his every thought. Nonetheless, he hoped you were warm, wherever you were. If he was as fanatically religious as his dear coz Lancel, he would have even prayed for your safety.

When morning dawned, Riverrun’s maester came to pay him a visit. He was pallid-faced and shaking.

“I know,” Jaime said, glancing at the bound letter in the old man’s quivering hands. “The Citadel has sent a white raven. Winter has come.”

“No, my lord,” said Maester Vyman. “The bird came from King’s Landing. Forgive me, I took the liberty to open it, I did not know it was meant for your eyes…”

Jaime took the letter and sat by the window to read. It was Qyburn’s hurried hand, but he knew it to be Cersei’s fevered words.

Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.

“Does my lord wish to answer?” asked Vyman, hovering by the door.

A snowflake landed on the letter. He was reminded of the snowflakes in your hair, in his dream. It was quick to melt, blurring the inked words and streaking down the paper.

Jaime rolled the paper back as tight as he could with his one hand, and handed it back to the maester. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”

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