#four visitations verse

[thevioletcaptain]

I know the ask is about ships but could you make a non ship one with Dean and Carlos from the Winchesters? I can't think of an exact thing for Dean to say, but the first sentence can be what Dean would say for their first meeting. Thank you if you can (*^‿^*)

"I like your hair," Dean says, staring up from where he's clinging to the bottom of Mary's winter coat, and Carlos grins wide when he adds, with all the breathless gravity of a four year old eager to impress their opinions upon a new friend; "It's swooshy and it's pretty like Mommy's hair, and your-- your beads are pretty and shiny and shiny is my favorite color."

"Swooshy and pretty and shiny is exactly what I was going for, so thank you, little buddy."

Even with almost six years between now and the last time he'd seen Mary, Carlos is relieved to find that they still have a good sense of one-another -- can still communicate silently, swiftly, like they used to when it was life or death. He meets her eye, and her face softens, and understanding passes between them before he slides one of his lucky beaded bracelets -- the bloodstone one -- free.

Dean's eyes light up when he takes it.

When he smiles, he looks just like his mother.

[for this askbox game if anyone else wants to send me a prompt]

[allylikethecat]

you’re very sweet for considering us in your writing process! I’d also 100% understand that it is your decision :) I think I need to hear Matty and George talk about big stuff, or at least I believe I’d find it very healing, even when I know that down the line they’ll find good communication from the other fic anyways, I think I’m very interested in the actual conversation (as the first of many that I’d imagine they have)! I hope you have a great day and I’m excited for whatever you have in mind :)

Of course! I know I'm not *always* going to end up taking my fics in the direction that readers have asked for but I do like to take it into consideration! Even if the Christmas Fic doesn't end up going 100% in the direction you hoped for, I still hope you enjoy it! I can't believe we've reached the final part after all this time 🥺 Thank you so much for reading, taking the time to send this ask, and the continued support! I hope your day is going wonderfully as well!

❤️Ally

[couldfight]

a starter for @starskatr !

they pull their suitcase through the gates, eyes darting around the crowd. it's their first time on a plane & nerves still rattle around even though they're on familiar land. finally, gaze lands on the person she's searching for - max.

grin is already breaking out on her features, steps quickening until she's practically running through the other passengers to get to her best friend. suitcase dropped, arms fling out to envelop the other in a hug.

❝ max ! i missed you so much ! ❞

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Meat Loaf - I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That) 1993

"I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" is a song written by Jim Steinman, and recorded by American rock singer Meat Loaf. The song was released in August 1993 as the first single from the singer's sixth album, Bat Out of Hell II: Back into Hell (1993). The last six verses features English singer Lorraine Crosby, who was credited only as "Mrs. Loud" in the album notes. While visiting the label's recording studios on Sunset Boulevard, Crosby was asked by her manager Steinman to provide guide vocals for Meat Loaf, who was recording the song "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)". Cher, Melissa Etheridge and Bonnie Tyler were considered for the role. The song was a commercial success, however as Crosby had recorded her part as guide vocals, she did not receive any payment for the recording but she receives royalties from PRS. Crosby did not appear in the Michael Bay-directed music video, where model Dana Patrick mimed her vocals. Meat Loaf promoted the single with American vocalist Patti Russo performing the live female vocals of this song at his promotional appearances and concerts.

The power ballad was a commercial success, reaching number one in 28 countries. The single was certified platinum in the US and became Meat Loaf's first and only number one and top ten single on the Billboard Hot 100 and Cash Box Top 100. It also became Meat Loaf's first and only number one single on the UK Singles Chart, and was the best-selling single of 1993 in the UK. The song earned Meat Loaf a Grammy Award for Best Rock Vocal Performance, Solo.

American film director and producer Michael Bay directed the accompanying music video for "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)". The cinematographer was Daniel Pearl, particularly known for filming The Texas Chain Saw Massacre in 1973. Pearl says that this video "is one of my personal all-time favorite projects… I think the cinematography is pure, and it tells a story about the song." The video is based on Beauty and the Beast and The Phantom of the Opera. Bob Keane did Meat Loaf's make-up, which took up to two hours to apply. The make-up was designed to be simple and scary, yet "with the ability to make him sympathetic." The shoot went over budget, and was filmed in 90 °F (32 °C) heat, across four days. The video, which was the abridged seven-minute version of the song rather than the twelve-minute album version, was put into heavy rotation on MTV.

Meat Loaf appeared in over 50 films and television shows, sometimes as himself or as characters resembling his stage persona. His film roles included Eddie in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) and Robert Paulson in Fight Club (1999).

"I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" received a total of 77,7% yes votes!

[svt-luna]

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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[yuebinnie]

Proverbs 5:19

☾ Pairing : Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

☆ Warnings : mdni. Priest!Alastor, implied chubby!reader, noncanon Alastor, dubcon, coercion, blasphemy, abuse of authority, blood kink, blood drinking, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), cunnulingus, catholic prayers used in a sexual context, scriptures used to coerce, cum eating, size kink, loss of virginity (implied, not talked about), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, literally just smut

☾ WC : 9.8k

☆ A/N : Taking a break from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea to write Alastor smut ^^ This contains heavy Christian imagery, so if it's something you are uncomfortable with, this fic might not be for you! I really enjoyed writing this; it's my first time writing smut for Alastor, so hopefully I do not disappoint you all. I also posted the fic on AO3, if you'd prefer reading there. Have fun!

There was something about going to church that felt incredibly soothing. The deafening silence every time you walked in during the early hours of the day, steps echoing against the painted ceiling and colourful rose window, the shadows dancing behind the burning wicks of the candles set on each side of the main aisle, the smell of dust dancing in the air like a reminder of how desolate the people who came to visit truly were. You had not always been religious, but you had found peace in believing that there was a divine truth, that being good in this life would give you eternal bliss.

The church was a small one, and an old one; how it was still standing you had no idea. It was annexed to a small decrepit churchyard with moss-covered headstones that dated from at least two centuries ago. To any passersby, it'd be believed to be abandoned, as the outside of the building was quite literally falling apart, the bricks slowly eroding and the tiles covering the roof covered with the same moss as the headstones. The exterior appearance did not matter however, only the inside did; that's where God resided after all.

Despite its age, the inside and of the church was well kept. Yes, the rose window was cracked, and, as an attempt to keep the place as pure as possible, electricity had never been installed. The candles did the job of keeping the inside lit, and as for the temperature, well, dressing warmly was mandatory during the colder months of the year. The benches were old and the varnish that had once covered them was long gone; dents and chips could be found here and there, but they were still sturdy. The altar was small and simple, a wooden thing settled on a small stage that hovered only a few inches above the floor. Near the entrance sat a confessional which reeked of mould, but in the absolute presence of God, the smell was easily forgotten.

You had a habit of going to pray most days when you were not bedridden from the exhaustion of spending the night reading your favourite verses. 5 AM; the perfect time to pray, just as the world welcomed the sun's warmth and light. Very rarely did you meet anyone else; it had happened a few times, mostly old people nearing death coming to ask for absolution for their sins. Otherwise, the only person you had seen was the priest, whom you only had spoken to once or twice. He would look at you while you kneeled and mumbled prayers and verses, a smile plastered on his face.

It was the only downside of it all, that unsettling presence. The priest, a handsome man you had apologized to God for finding attractive, was always smiling. It was a bone-chilling sight; it made you feel as though he could see right through you, like he had access to every single thought that cluttered the inside of your mind. He had asked for your name once and had told you to have a 'delightful rest of the day'. That day had turned out to be horrible, as you had learned your grandmother was diagnosed with stage four cancer and only had a few months left. You had prayed for her, but God had decided to take her, nonetheless. Your subconscious had linked the priest's words as a direct cause of your grandmother's tragic diagnosis, and you had tried your best to avoid talking to him ever since.

When you woke up that morning, sweaty and feeling stickiness between your thighs, you felt sick to your stomach remembering the dreams that had plagued your mind in your slumber. A faceless man, dragging his lips down your stomach, his fingers touching your body in a way that was so sinful; the only logical explanation was that you had been visited by an incubus, an agent of evil. God was testing you, letting evil reach you to see if you'd be as faithful as Job or if you'd succumb to sin like Eve had. You cleaned yourself and changed your nightgown to proper clothes, putting a slightly warm coat on before leaving your house.

The sun had not yet started to show itself, and a thick fog floated above the quiet streets. The sky was covered with grey clouds that seemed to hang low, you wondered if you could touch them if you reached up, but your mind was too preoccupied with your predicament to try and touch something so close to Heaven. Mind running faster than a hare trying to escape a wolf, you tried to convince yourself simple prayers would do, but a loud voice kept coming back, telling you this could only be forgiven by confessing. The thought of having to talk to the priest whom you had convinced yourself was the catalyst of your grandmother's death made you want to cry, but the thought of failing God and disappointing Him was far more upsetting. You reached the church as the first rays of light made the dew covering the Earth glisten, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Your eyes fell upon the priest, who was bent down in the middle of the aisle, a long match in his hand as he lit the candles up. You froze, your eyes running across his shoulders and back. The door closed loudly behind you, and you jumped; the man's head snapped in your direction, his smile growing when he saw who had just walked in.

"You are quite early today, my dear," the priest stated simply, his focus going back to the unlit candles that still begged to melt under the burning flames. "Luckily enough, our Creator does not sleep; we're under scrutiny every second of our time on this earth."

You gulped at the words, the implications they held. You crept closer to the man, fidgeting as you thought of what to say. You let out a small quiet sigh, biting down your bottom lip as you stopped and stood a few feet away from him. The man straightened up and turned in your direction, his head tilted to the left as his gaze travelled across your face, "Oh my, whatever has you this upset?"

Your cheeks flushed as your eyes shifted from his eyes to the floor, the shame of what you had yet to confess weighing down your shoulders like the cross your Saviour had carried through heat and pain. You felt tiny, the priest towering over you; he had to be close to two feet taller than you. Had this been how Lucifer felt when he was at last pushed to meet his fate in the depths, a force greater than all administrating the final judgment? Sinfully powerless, a mere weak being? Tears gathered at your lower lash lines as you spoke, oh so quietly, your voice like the echo of an echo, "Father, I have sinned."

Seconds passed, silent ones, before the man hummed and walked past you, making his way to the front of the church. You twirled around, your eyes landing on where the priest now stood, in front of the old rotting confessional. You gulped, nodding to no one in particular before slowly making your way to the man who was stepping into the booth, the door closing behind him. You did the same, slowly closing the door after giving the empty church one last look, your eyes lingering a few seconds on the nailed Christ resting behind the altar, seemingly judging you.

You sat down, cringing at the creaking of the wood beneath your weight. The grille was pulled up, the silhouette of the man on the other side vaguely distinguishable. You took a deep breath, then spoke softly as you brought your right hand to your forehead, the gesture almost instinctual, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." You put your hand on your thigh, staring at the unmoving priest, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is.... too much time, since my last confession. I am a university student, in my last year to obtain a bachelor's degree." A low hum was heard, and you shifted in your seat, trying to find the exact words for your confession.

"Father, something terrible happened last night. In my weakened sleeping state, evil befell me. I was plagued with sinful dreams. You must understand, I am thoroughly devoted to Christ and our Lord, never have I let a man, or anyone, disgrace the body I was given; never have I had thoughts or dreams of this kind. I fear my will is not strong enough, that this evil shall come back and torment me. I fear I will fall into sin, just as our first predecessors did. I am nothing but willing, Father, so please, do help me. I am sorry for all these sins, and the sins of my past life."

You sniffled, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your rosy cheeks, your eyes glued on the silhouette of the man beyond the grille. His silence made you want to cry even more; were you a lost case? Had your fate already been sealed, your soul now tainted because of the touch of evil in such sacred places? You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited, seconds becoming minutes.

"This evil you speak of, what exactly has it done to you?" His voice seemed to have dropped lower, the sound a bit raspier. You furrowed your brow slightly at the question; you had been clear about the incident. As if feeling your hesitation, the priest continued, "Ma chère, only by knowing exactly what this evil put you through can I give you absolution."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and flinched as the crack of thunder was heard beyond the church walls; your heartbeat quickened, was this Him telling you to obey?

You let out a small breath, before speaking up, the words shaky, "As I slept, this evil... Entered my dreams. It took advantage of my defenselessness. It disgraced my soul and my body. Upon waking up, there was... Remains of the sinful things it had my body do." You could feel the man's stare on you despite the grille separating you, causing yours to drop to your knees, feeling vulnerable.

"What sinful things did it inflict upon you?" Rain had started falling, as if the sky itself cried for you; the sound of it hammered against the roof, a continuous wail of grief for your poor soul.

"Father, I don't understand how this is necessa-"

"Do you not want absolution? Do you desire to be locked out of His kingdom? The choice is yours," his tone was harsher, demanding, even. You gulped and shook your head; no, that was not what you wanted. It was the furthest thing from it.

"I apologize for questioning your words, Father," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your coat, "From what I can remember... This evil took the shape of a man. A faceless man. I was in bed, and it joined me, and... We, uh, we kissed. It took my nightgown off." Your hands felt clammy, and you couldn't help but press your thighs together as you recollected the events of your dreams. "It kissed my breasts, then my stomach. It went... Down there, and stayed there until my whole body tensed up. Afterwards, it pushed itself inside me, it thoroughly disgraced my body. When I woke up, my body showed signs that it had reacted to the defiling. Father, please, believe me when I tell you that I was coerced by evil."

Thunder was heard again, breaking the silence that had settled between you and the priest. As the minutes passed, you became uneasy; was the man disgusted with you? Could he sense the sins radiating from your being? He cleared his throat, breaking your train of thought. Your eyes went back to his silhouette, waiting for him to speak up.

"I fear this is beyond the power bestowed upon me, dear," his voice was silky, it made warmth spread inside your chest, as if the vibrations it had created affected your very cells.

Your eyes widened; that was impossible. You had confessed and explained the evil that had haunted you. You had done exactly what He told His followers to do, confessed and asked for forgiveness. You shuffled closer to the grille, tearing up as you begged, "Father, please, there must be a way. I will do anything; I will suffer just like our Saviour has if it's what it takes. I'm supplying you, help me get rid of this evil."

“Very well,” the man said. You watched as his silhouette stood up and opened the door of the booth before it disappeared. The door of your little chamber opened, and you turned your head to look at the tall priest, who adjusted his glasses as he stared down at you. You took a few seconds to really look at him. Despite his smile that made shivers run down your spine, the man was handsome. His skin was tan, his hair dark and styled in an old-fashioned way. His features were sharp, intimidating, almost. Towering over you, his shoulders were wider than some quarterbacks’, and his waist was ridiculously small compared to them. His hands seemed to be twice the size of yours, and you found yourself wondering how he managed to button up his shirts with such big hands.

You looked back at his face as you blushed, realizing the man before you knew of your body in such intimate ways. You slowly stood up as you held his gaze, unsure of what to say next. He took a step aside and gestured for you to step out of the confessional, before closing the door behind you. The priest smiled down at you, “Follow me, dear.”

He started walking down the aisle, the flames of the candles on each side of it dancing as he passed by. You hesitantly followed him, looking out one of the small windows to see the rain pouring onto the world as lightning illuminated the sky. He stopped at the altar and turned to you, his smile ever present. You stopped in front of the stage; sinners did not belong anywhere close to that sacred place. The man stayed silent and with a gesture of his hand, permitted you to step up. You gulped and got on the stage, feeling extremely out of place.

“There is one way for you to repent,” he began, his stare fixed on you, “Though it is a bit unorthodox. The choice is yours, but you must remember that there is no place for sinners in Heaven.” He watched as you nodded quickly; you were eager to be forgiven, to go back to being free of sin. The corner of his lips twitched before he uttered one word, “Strip.”

Your eyes widened as your face turned a deeper shade of crimson. Stripping? You searched his face for hints of dishonesty, hoping he was playing a sick joke on you, but to your dismay, he was serious. Your body was frozen as you looked at him, not even the booming thunder making you flinch.

You opened your mouth to ask why, but the man beat you to it, answering your question before you even uttered a word, “Only by showing Him precisely how this evil tainted you can you be absolved. There is no need to be shy, ma chérie; isn’t He all-knowing? All-seeing? Wasn’t the shame of nudity created by His first creations’ sin? There is no purer form of devotion than to go beyond the embarrassment and bare yourself to Him; than to accept the vulnerable nature of your existence.”

He brought his right hand up to lay it flat against the wooden altar, observing you as you fought an inner battle with your dignity. His words were true, the wisdom of a man devoted to God, of someone who knew scriptures and their meaning. As if feeling your unmoving incertitude, he spoke up once again, “Proverbs 28:13.”

You blinked up at him, mind searching for the verse you had read many times before. You licked your bottom lip with your tongue before reciting softly, “He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” The priest hummed, and you raised your gaze to the crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, feeling as if He was patiently waiting for you to submit to His will. You puffed out a small breath as you nodded to yourself, a hand coming up to the zipper of your coat, slowly bringing it down to then shrug off the piece of clothing and letting it fall on the floor.

You could already feel the wet cold seep through your thin sweater, but you ignored the feeling as you grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it up until it was completely off you; it dropped, finding its place next to your coat at your feet. Your eyes were unfocused, staring into thin air as you slipped your thumbs under the elastic band of your skirt, pushing it down so it pooled at your ankles. You stepped out of it, getting slightly closer to the priest whose gaze was burning your skin despite the goosebumps covering it. You brought a hand to your back, unclasping your bra before slowly taking it off, baring your breasts to the man. Your nipples hardened as the freezing air licked them and you bit hard down your bottom lip as you slid your underwear down your legs, then stepped out of your shoes, leaving you only wearing your lace-arbored anklets.

The man lifted a hand in your direction, a silent request for you to grab it. You did so all while avoiding looking up at him and followed him as he made his way behind the altar, his fingers squeezing yours slightly, “Our Lord blessed you with rare beauty, dear one, what a shame it led evil to you.” You gasped softly as his other hand wrapped around your waist, your eyes shooting up to look at him. He was still smiling, though his eyes seemed clouded with something you could not put your finger on.

He let go of your hand and grabbed the other side of your waist before effortlessly hoisting you up on the altar, the skin of your ass stinging from the cold of the wooden surface. Your gaze was questioning, and the man recited, his voice low and quieter than it had previously been, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.” You gaped at him; a true man of God, that’s what he was. “Offer your body to Him, and you shall be absolved. Show Him what evil has done to you, so He can forgive and make you pure again,” he held your stare, his pupils slightly dilated. You nodded once, and the priest stepped aside, leaving you to face your Saviour in your naked glory.

You slowly leaned back, using your left elbow to not completely lie down on the wood. You brought your trembling right hand to your lips, the tip of your index finger stroking the pink flesh as you recalled where the lips of the faceless man had touched you. They lingered there for a few seconds before dipping to your neck, dancing around the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut; if goosebumps had not already been covering your body fault of the moist cold, they would have appeared, the feeling titillating. Your chest rose and fell in a timely rhythm as you dragged your touch to your breasts where your finger gently caressed your right nipple. Your lips parted, small breaths making their way out as you gathered with your small hand the heavy fat of your breast, squeezing. You could feel the stare of the priest on you, but you attempted to ignore it as you kept going.

Your fingers went down your stomach, using your nails to slightly scratch the skin, and they stopped a few inches below your belly button. You opened your eyes and looked at the crucifix; His peaceful expression, despite being nailed and in pain, gave you courage and you spread your legs, giving your Saviour the perfect view of your most intimate era. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you slowly brought your fingers down, choking on a soft moan when they made contact with your clit. The simple touch made your composure fall a little, your lips parted as your face reddened, feeling more exposed than you had ever felt before. You gently pushed against the bundle of nerves, gasping as your fingers started to move, following a small eight-pattern.

You could feel your heartbeat thundering against your ribcage, matching the loud striking of the heavenly fire against the earth beyond the safety of the church walls. Soft pants left your mouth as you started working on yourself, closing your eyes to focus on the memories of the previous night. Every touch and stroke were vividly drawn in your mind, your fingers moving in an almost instinctual way, leaving you a whimpering mess. You moved your elbow that was holding your weight, slowly leaning your back against the cold wood, before bringing the now free hand to your face, covering your mouth with it as your thighs trembled. Your body was thrumming, humming with new sensations, your mind as foggy as the early morning that had welcomed you when you had stepped out of your home.

Lost in pleasure, you jumped, your eyes shooting open as you felt long fingers wrap around your wrist, the priest looking down at you, his own eyes sharper and darker than they had been earlier. Your fingers nestled between your thighs stopped moving as you stared at him, but he tsked, “My dear, you must not hide anything from Him. These lovely, sinful sounds you make, are not to be repressed. Let them be; let Him hear what evil inflicted upon you,” his voice sent a chill down your spine, your back arching slightly. You watched as the corner of his lips twitched and let him pull your hand away from your mouth, gulping as you nodded weakly. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitched at the praise, eyes not leaving his’ as your fingers started to move once again, bringing your legs up to rest your heels against the altar, spreading your legs a bit more. As if in a trance, your gaze fixed on the priest as you moaned and gasped, your hips twitching as you rubbed your clit. You saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes narrowing as you used your free hand to caress the skin of your stomach, slowly inching towards your left breast. Your fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, and with a bite on your bottom lip and a pinch of your nipple, you pushed your middle finger all the way to the second knuckle, your eyes widening at the feeling. You let out a throaty whine, pressing your head harder against the wooden surface that supported your weight. The cold was long forgotten, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, muscles spasming here and there.

You slid your other hand between your thighs, the digits quickly finding your clit and gently stimulating it as you managed to push your finger further inside yourself. The faceless man from your dreams had used three fingers, and you could only wonder how your dream self had taken them, as you were struggling with a lonely, short finger. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, you bit down your lip and pushed your index alongside the finger that was already pressed inside you. Your face scrunched up at the stretch, a silent sob echoing through the dimly lit space. You felt your walls clench around your digits, your free hand still working on your clit as a way to make the dull ache more bearable. You waited a minute, giving your body time to adjust to the feeling, before carefully pulling the fingers out and thrusting them back in, a surprised whimper leaving your lips as a new feeling started to blossom in your lower stomach.

You arched your back and started speeding up the motion of your hands, unable to keep quiet as your body grew warmer and more tense. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at the priest, who was as still as Christ watching you from His cross on the wall. As you exhaled, you pushed a third finger in, welcoming the stretch with a high-pitched whine. Your knees dropped down onto the altar, leaving your womanhood fully exposed; you watched as the man glanced at where your hands were working in tandem to replicate almost exactly what the evil from your dream had done to you. You gathered the little concentration you had left and started muttering through gasps and moans, “Compassionate Father, you are the Lord who rescues His people. When I am overwhelmed with shame, help me find solace in you. You have said that you will help—though my sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Remind me that I have been purified by you, that the curse of sin and evil is no longer upon me. In your powerful name, Ame-” You were cut off by a large hand wrapping around your lower face, the feeling making your body jolt.

Right, it had to be the same as the dream; you had not uttered a prayer in it, far from it. You closed your eyes, moaning against the palm covering your mouth, as you focused on the growing tension in your core. Every second felt like minutes and every minute felt like hours as you quickly thrust your fingers in and out, all while you rubbed and nudged your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable, your whole body twitching as your hips tried to follow the movements of your digits as if they had a mind of their own. The priest moved his hand away, and you opened your eyes to watch him bring it to his mouth where he licked his palm, which was covered with your drool.

Something snapped inside of you and a loud sob made its way out of your throat as your muscles tensed up, your walls clenching tightly around your fingers as you stilled them, your mind unable to think about anything beyond the blinding pleasure that took over your body. Your eyes rolled back, pitiful sounds leaving your mouth as your back arched from the altar, your thighs squeezing together, trapping your hands between them. This felt so much better than it had felt in your dream. You teared up; the Lord’s love was so strong; evil could not even compare.

After a few seconds, your body relaxed, and you were left panting and sweaty, as if you had just run a marathon. Slowly opening your eyes, your vision became clearer as you blinked, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the crucifix, then up to the priest who had not moved. You removed your hands from between your thighs and brought your left one up to wipe the pearls of sweat on your forehead with the back of it. You wrapped your right arm around your chest, trying to hide your breasts as you spoke up, your voice small but hoarse, “Have I done it, Father? Am I free of sin? Has our Lord given me absolution?” Hope lingered; you had done what you were told to do, you had been good, and your Lord was good and forgiving, He had to have seen how faithful you were.

The man’s eyebrows raised before he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly, “My dear, this was only your confession. The truest and purest form of confession.” Your smile dropped. You looked at him as he made his way closer to the wall, where he stopped in front of the crucifix that had observed you as you worked on yourself. His chin tilted up as he looked at it, before his head slowly turned to look at you, “But confession is not enough for this type of sin, sadly; you must also be cleansed.”

You sat up, your brows furrowed, watching as the man stepped closer to you. He stood in front of you, his right hand coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. His touch was warm and inviting, but you still wondered what his words meant, so you asked, “Cleansed?”

His thumb stroked your skin as he hummed and brought his other hand up to your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it, “Yes, dearest, cleansed. Your body was defiled by evil, it must be purified. You’ve shown our Lord and Saviour how, and now He shall reclaim your body as His’.” You looked at him, your eyes round and big, trying to make sense of the words that had just been spoken. A small pout appeared on your lips, and the tall priest bent down, his face now closer to yours as he said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper, “You are so easy to read, you know? But to ease your confusion; I shall represent our Lord and make you pure again.”

You froze, the realization of what the man meant hitting you just like David’s stone had hit Goliath. You gaped at him, your mouth opening and closing, searching your brain for the right words to speak, afraid to insult God and the man who stood before you. You gulped and said after taking in a deep breath, “Our Lord… I cannot think of mentions of this procedure in the scriptures,” you blinked, your eyes shining as you looked into his’. “Father, has this procedure been tested before? Where does it come from?”

His long fingers dug into the fat of your thigh as you saw the muscle of his jaw clench, a small whimper leaving your lips at the feeling. He kept squeezing, his creepy smile growing, “Are you implying my authority was not given to me by our Lord? That my will does not stem from His’? That I would go against scriptures, something I have devoted my life to?” You shook your head quickly; you had messed up. You were to never question the words of a priest, for he was much closer to God than you were, and you had done just that. This evil needed to leave; it made you do, think and say things that would only make you unworthy of Heaven.

“Father, do forgive me! This evil, it has taken control of my body and sou-”

“There’s no need for that. I shall make your sins a purest white than Abraham’s sacrificial lamb. You will be reborn a new woman, utterly sinless,” he inched his hand higher on your thigh, “That is what you want, isn’t it? To let your God make you pure again?” You gave him a slow nod and his smile widened as he brought his free hand to his face, removing his glasses and putting them on the altar next to you. He nudged your knees open and settled between them, sliding a hand against the back of your head as he sang praise to you, “What a good girl you are, ma chère.”

His lips smashed against yours and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to follow his lead. The hand resting on your thigh slid to your waist and forced you to get closer to him, his chest pressing against your naked breasts. You moaned into the kiss, pictures of your dream flooding your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around his tiny waist and arms around his neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, letting the man run his tongue along your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response. His kisses travelled down your chin, to your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin as you let your head fall back, giving him better access.

His mouth slid to your chest, and you lowered your chin to look down at him as he wrapped his swollen lips around your left nipple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him closer to you, arching your back slightly. His eye shot up to look at you, humming against your skin, the vibration leaving you a whimpering mess. He separated from your pink, wet bud with a last lick, smiling as he flicked your other nipple with his thumb, “So eager for absolution, aren’t you?” Your soft pants were interrupted with a small gulp as you nodded once again; there was nothing you wanted more. He ran a hand up and down your thigh before grabbing it and removing it from his waist, doing the same motion with the other one a few seconds later. You silently watched as he kneeled, his face a few inches away from your exposed core. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Something caught your eyes on the wall, and you looked up, seeing a rainbow light up the crucifix hung on the wall; the rain and thunder had dissipated as suddenly as they had appeared, and sun rays were beaming through the colourful tainted glass of the rose window at the entrance of the church. A small smile tugged at your lips, this had to be a sign you were on the right path. You bit down your bottom lip and gazed down, seeing the priest eyeing your womanhood, a hungry look on his face. Your cheeks reddened as you waited for the man to do something.

He slowly inched closer, and let his nose nudge your puffy clit, causing you to gasp softly at the feeling. You felt something warm run up and down your slit, your grip on his hair tightening as he flattened his tongue against your entrance. Your brows knitted, a small noise leaving your lips as he started to move his wet appendage up and down, moving his head slightly as he did so to get his nose to bump against your clit with each lick. His hands went to your ass, and he brought you even closer to his face; you wondered how he could even breathe.

Your mind started to wander as pleasure slowly took over your limbs; was the man between your legs mistaking you for a wine-filled chalice? The slurping noises his mouth was making against you travelled through your body and rendered you dizzy. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and his eyes shot open to look up at you as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass. His pupils were dilated to the point that you could barely see his iris and there was wetness spreading on his cheeks and nose. Lips parted, you sighed and slightly scratched his scalp with your nails, leaving the man groaning as his stare was still fixed on your face. One of his hands made its way down your thigh and disappeared from your view before it reappeared; a dainty wooden-beaded rosary was dangling from his fingers.

The priest took his mouth away from you, a wide smirk painting his lips as he grabbed your wrist and dropped the prayer beads in your much smaller palm. His other hand came forward and started stroking the skin of your inner thigh as he wrapped his long digits around yours, forcing you to hold the rosary. He licked his bottom lip before speaking up, “You know how this works, don’t you?” His smile grew as he watched you nod, “Perfect. Recite them in your head, except the Five Decades; you must recite those aloud. It’s Thursday, so Luminous Mysteries. Whatever your Lord has planned next and does to you, you must keep going, understood?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Use your words, dearest.”

“I understand, Father,” you said, your voice small.

The man hummed and let go of your hand, dropping it to your other thigh, massaging the skin there as well. His gaze dropped to where your thumb moved to make the Sign of the Cross on the small crucifix pendant. You closed your eyes as you started reciting the Apostles’ Creed, surrendering your body to the faithful man kneeling before you. His lips pressed against you as you finished the first prayer, your finger moving to the first bead. He fell into a now familiar rhythm, leaving you incapable of staying silent as you breathed out soft moans. Something prodded at your entrance and slowly slipped in as you fell back against the altar with a thud. You arched your back as it kept going, much deeper than you had reached with your fingers. It pumped in and out a few times before the man added a second finger, the pressure and stretch making you whimper.

His tongue kept alternating between sucking on and flicking your clit as you busied yourself with prayers. The priest hummed against you before removing himself; you opened your eyes and lifted your head from the wooden surface, eyes widening when you saw blood on his chin and bottom lip. He removed his fingers from you and showed them to you; they were bloody too. You stared at him silently, uncertain of what to say, but he broke the silence, “See what the evil has left in you? Aren’t you so lucky your Lord is ever so forgiving? That he’s cleaning you up to make you free of sin?” You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes were gleaming as his fingers went to your lower stomach, smearing the blood on your skin, which made goosebumps appear.

You studied his face, his sharp, dark hooded eyes were staring at you under his defined eyebrows, his plump lips were stretched in a smile; his tanned cheeks and chin were coated with a sheening coat of your wetness and blood. His hair was now messy—your doing—and his fingers were slowly making their way back to your slit. Without thinking about it, you reached out and cupped his cheek with your free hand, rubbing your thumb against his bottom lip. His tongue darted out to lick your digit as his fingers sank back in you, knocking the breath out of you. Your eyes closed shut as you gasped, your hand falling from his face to rest on your hip. You heard him laugh under his breath before the warmth of his mouth was back on you. Your mind reminded you of the rosary you were holding, and you started reciting the Hail Mary.

As you neared the end of the Glory Be, you felt the man add another finger, the stretch making your eyes tear up as you mewled weakly. The words of the prayer passed in your mind, disappearing as he started to thrust them in and out. Your walls clenched tightly around his digits as your chest rose and fell quickly, panting as your body tried to get adjusted to the burning feeling.

Your fingers landed on the first Decade, and you gathered all your strength to start reciting the prayer, your voice shaky, “Then Jesus came to Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he consented.” You were interrupted by a yelp as you felt the priest’s teeth grazing your clit, your free hand landing in his hair, gripping it. Your hips kept twitching as you kept going, stuttering through the words, “And when Jesus was baptized, he went up immediately from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”

The drag of the man’s fingers had turned pleasurable, and you felt your muscles tense up, the feeling in your lower stomach rapidly growing. You pushed on the back of his head, searching for more friction, and you moaned out loudly when he started mumbling against your clit as his fingers kept moving, “Oh my Jesus, forgive me of my sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who have most need of your mercy.” You could not register the words but the movements of his lips on you made you come undone, your back arching from the altar as your thighs trapped his head in place, your hips lifting to follow his fingers and urge him to press his tongue harder against you. Your every muscle tensed up, crying out as the waves of your orgasm hit you just like the Red Sea had crashed into the Egyptians as He closed its parting. You spasmed around him, your walls trying to push his fingers out, and you felt wetness drip down your ass.

He separated from your clit, kissing it softly as he removed his digits from you, slowly standing up as you cracked your eyes open, your body still jolting randomly as it calmed down from your high. The light coming from the rose window had moved, and from your angle, it looked like a halo surrounding the priest’s head; a breathtaking sight that had you gape in awe. You watched as he tugged at the collar of his shirt, taking his Roman collar off and letting it fall to his feet. Your wetness was dripping from his lips which were harbouring a soft smile, his hands moving unhurriedly to unbutton his cassock. His eyes travelled up and down your spent body, then to the rosary you had forgotten you were still holding; you clenched your fingers around it and moved to a new bead, your lips moving silently as you recited the Hail Mary in your mind.

You kept your eyes on his hands as they reached the last button, the man shrugging off the black piece of clothing, revealing he was wearing a white tank top and black pants underneath it. You gulped at the true size of his shoulders; you had thought his cassock gave the illusion he was large, but even with it off, he looked huge. The smallness of his waist only accentuated how massive the built of the priest was. He had muscles but they were lean; despite it all, he looked strong and exuded a masculine aura that had you squirming in place.

Your observations were interrupted by his voice, “Do you feel like the weight of your sin has lessened, ma chère?” You dipped your chin once; you did feel lighter. The man grinned wider as his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing your torso up effortlessly so you were now sitting. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over so his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, whispering, “You did so well, dear, you’re almost as pure as the day you were born. There’s only a step left in this procedure, but it will hurt at first.” He pressed a hand on the back of your head and pushed forward, forcing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You inhaled and felt his fingers massage your scalp gently.

He smelled so intoxicating; a mixture of moss, rain, coffee, tobacco and a hint of something floral emitted from his skin. You realized you had pressed your lips against the man’s neck when you felt him tense up, his hand stilling in your hair. You backed away slightly, blushing so brightly you were grateful he could not see your face, muttering an apology. His body relaxed again, and he hummed, “There’s no need for apologies. Bite down my shoulder—don’t be scared to bite hard—it will make you focus on something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant but pressed your lips together when you heard a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes between your bodies. You brought your hands to his chest, the rosary still in your hand, fingers fidgeting with the beads as you felt one of his large and cold hands spread your thighs a little further apart. You felt his fingers run up and down your slit and you gasped at the feeling, your nails slightly digging into the muscles of his chest. A wet sound travelled up to your ears and you closed your eyes, a shiver running down your spine when you felt a hand drop to your hip, kneading the fat there, and his voice, now a low murmur, “Bite down.”

You barely had the time to process the words that you felt pressure against your entrance which ceded, your walls wrapping around something so thick you shrieked before sinking your teeth into the man’s shoulder. It felt like you were being split in half; the thickness slowly forced its way inside you as tears gathered at your lower lash lines before they dripped down your cheeks. You bit down harder and pulled away quickly when you felt iron-tasting warmth coat the inside of your mouth, but the hand still in your hair pushed you against the bleeding bite mark, the priest almost growling, “Bite, and drink. At this moment, I am God; I am Christ. His blood is mine, and my blood is His’. Savour, dear one, and let me cleanse you inside out.” You let out a shaky breath before sinking your teeth back in his flesh, your brows knitting as he pushed his length an inch deeper inside you, “So obedient.”

You let the blood fill your mouth and swallowed, cringing at the taste but unwilling to go against Heavenly orders. Your arms snaked around his waist as he kept slowly pushing himself into you. The pain was unbearable, but your mind went to Christ, and how much he had suffered for the sins of all; the ache between your legs was a pinch compared to what he had endured, so you toughened up and let your tongue lap at the blood. Your brain felt foggy, and you could only take it as a sign that it was your body reacting to being filled with the divine energy pouring out from the priest. His length reached deeper than his fingers had, and you wondered how much of it you had left to take in.

You soon had your answer, the man stilling as his pelvis pressed against yours; he was so deep in you, stretching you so wide. Your mouth detached from his neck, and you pressed your forehead against his skin, panting loudly as you tried your best to relax your walls around him. The hand that was in your hair made its way to your waist, squeezing gently as you felt his lips press against your ear once again, “Your Lord is so pleased with you; you’re taking his cock so well. You’ll be redeemed in no time.” He slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, before thrusting in you at a medium speed, leaving you sobbing against his neck. It was overwhelming, the feeling of his length rubbing your inside and the warmth spreading in your chest, God’s love making you burn up. The feeling started to transform from pain to pleasurable pressure, your pained cries turning into needy moans.

You had managed to reach the tenth Hail Mary in your mind, your fingers reaching the second Decade. You whimpered out the beginning of the Second Luminous Mystery, “On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples.” The priest started moving faster, his hips meeting yours at a much quicker speed; you whined as his tip hit a certain spot inside you, the rosary dropping on the floor as you dug your nails into the man’s shoulder blades. You could not concentrate on anything other than the drag of his length against your walls, panting and gasping each time he bottomed out.

He slightly pulled away from your body and looked down at you, his hips still moving as he brought a hand to grab your jaw from under, forcing you to look at him. He eyed you before crashing his lips against yours, moaning as he tasted his blood in your mouth. You slid your hands up to his hair, tugging at it and scratching his scalp as your teeth clashed together, tongues dancing. You pressed your chest closer to his’ and sighed as your nipples rubbed against his tank top, the feeling sending electric shocks to your core. You parted away from his lips, catching your breath, and your eyes opened and landed on the crucifix watching you; you smiled softly—oh how good was His clemency. Your gaze went back to the priest who was slightly panting, his lower face covered in blood—just like yours— as he smirked at you, sliding his hand to your cheek, stroking the skin tenderly.

In half a second, he pulled out and manhandled you, so you were now bent over the altar, your breasts pressed against the wooden surface as your feet dangled in the air, his large hands holding you up. His knee nudged your legs open wider and you felt him slip back inside you, the new position bringing a different sensation. His hips met your ass, and he started thrusting into you eagerly, loud smacks echoing through the church. You held yourself up on your elbows, holding your head up as you looked at the front door; if someone were to walk in, they would see the priest cleansing you, a Godsent blessing.

Your elbows started to tremble, and the man noticed; he slid a hand below your stomach and hoisted you up against his chest, your back pressed against him. He held you up, his arms wrapped around you as his pelvis smacked against your ass, your feet dangling one foot above the floor. He slid a hand down, his fingers running down your slit, groaning as he felt where you two were connected. He ran them up again and pushed his middle finger against your puffy clit, gently rubbing it as he kept working himself in and out of you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin.

You truly never had felt anything like this; if you had been a fool, you’d have thought you were glowing from how fulfilled you felt. The familiar tension grew in your lower stomach, lewd noises leaving your mouth as the man dug the fingers of his other hand into your flesh, holding you closer to him as his movements became erratic. His groans and grunts were sending shivers down your back, only adding to the multitudes of sensations you were currently drowning in. As if he could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, he mumbled against your neck, “Let go, ma chérie. Let evil leave your body, let God replace it with goodness.”

Your breath hitched and with a few more nudges on your clit, the pressure building inside you snapped. Your vision went white as you came, the feeling different from your previous releases. Even through the waves of pleasure, you could feel something drip down your thighs and could hear squelches as the priest kept thrusting his length in you. Your mouth was open, silent cries leaving your throat as you clenched tightly around the man. You felt his lips move against your neck, but you were too lost in feelings to understand what he was saying.

Your tensed-up muscles slowly relaxed as the remains of your orgasm washed over your body. You whimpered as the man kept moving, your core feeling overstimulated by his length still burying itself inside your sensitive walls. He quickly pushed your front back against the altar, grabbing your hips as he moved both his hips and yours in sync, your nails digging into the wood as your ass smacked against him. His thrusts were harsh and fast, leaving you breathless; tears were streaming down your cheeks at the delightful ache.

His hips stilled, his length buried deep inside you, as he groaned lowly. You felt your inside be flooded with warmth, whining as you dropped your forehead against the wooden surface, the cold of it grounding you. You were panting, the warmth creating a pleasant pressure inside your core as the priest rubbed his thumbs over your Venus dimples. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds, before easing out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He once again manhandled you so you were now sitting facing him, holding your limp body up as he dragged a hand up your moist thigh, grinning, “See this wetness? It was the remains of evil leaving your body.” His hand reached your slit and he gathered a sticky white substance on his fingers, bringing his hand up close to your lips, “And this is goodness. Do remember, my dear, your sins are scarlet and they shall be as white as snow.”

You gaped at him; he truly was a man of God. He pushed his fingers past your lips, and you let him, wrapping them around his digits as your tongue licked at the goodness. The taste was bitter, but as your eyes met his’, all you could think about was how caring and selfless the man standing in front of you was. You had come to him, worrying about your purity, and he had completely cleansed you of sin and given you his own God-gifted goodness, not asking anything in return. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brushed your cheek with the back of his index, his smile not faltering, “What is this look you are giving me?”

You blinked a few times, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring, “Father, I must thank you. My body and soul were barren, and you made them anew again. I do not know how I could ever repay you.” His eyes narrowed at your words, his hand reaching to grab his glasses before he put them on and ran a hand through his hair. It dropped to your thigh and drew shapes on there, his gaze not leaving yours.

“Alastor,” he said simply before stepping away from you and bending down to grab your clothes. Your expression turned to a confused one as you watched him slip your underwear up your legs, your skirt following. You let him dress you, his fingers skilfully clasping your bra behind your back before he motioned you to lift your arms so he could slip your shirt back on. Once dressed he let his hand lay on your thigh again, before he spoke up, “My name is Alastor. Call me by it and your debt is repaid.” He grabbed one of your hands and dropped the rosary in it before grabbing your waist and helping you down the altar, “Keep this, use it whenever you feel evil is near.”

You nodded up at him and smiled, your grin faltering for a second when you saw that the crucifix on the wall had detached and was now hanging upside down. Oddly, you thought nothing of it and you looked back at Alastor, your smile spreading wide, “Thank you, Fa—Alastor.” You squeezed the rosary between your fingers, watching as he bent down once again, but this time to grab his cassock and Roman collar. You stood silently as he buttoned it up and placed the white collar around his neck. He straightened the fabric with his hands, before meeting your eyes.

“You look quite a mess, dearest, you’d better go home and clean yourself.”

Your hand flew up to your face where dried blood was caked on your chin and around your mouth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck at his words; he did not look any better. Despite it, you nodded, shifting on your feet as you thanked him once again, “I cannot express how thankful I am, Alastor, truly. You, uh, you should probably get cleaned up too; people would probably wonder why there’s blood smeared on their priest’s face.” The man chuckled and nodded before bending down to grab your coat, handing it to you once he straightened up. You took it and quickly slipped it on, putting the rosary in one of the pockets.

You clasped your hands together and bit down your bottom lip as the man put a hand against your back and urged you to walk with him. You walked down the main aisle silently, stopping once you had reached the end of it. You turned to him and opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “Go, now. Enjoy your newly found purity.” You smiled and dipped your chin once; he grinned back, “I will see you tomorrow, though I am hoping you will not walk back in here with that same pitiful expression you had earlier.”

You let out a small laugh as you gestured that you agreed before giving him one last glance and turning around, walking towards the door. You could feel his stare burn holes in your back but ignore the feeling, pushing against the door and stepping outside, the sunlight momentarily blinding you. You sighed loudly, looking around to make sure no one was close; the last thing you wanted was someone seeing you limp, your face bloody. You began to make your way back home, ignoring the way your thighs stuck together from your and Alastor’s bodily fluids. You thought about his words, and strangely, you found yourself disagreeing; you hoped the faceless man would come back. You had tasted true goodness, the powerful and unconditional love and mercy of God, and you wanted more of it.

[mariacallous]

Salman Rushdie has just published Knife: Meditations After an Attempted Murder. In August 2022, he was giving a talk at the Chautauqua Institution in New York. Hadi Matar, a 24-year-old from New Jersey, rushed the stage and stabbed him 15 times. It was astonishing that Salman survived. He lost the sight in one eye and sustained terrible injuries, but he’s still with us and he’s still writing, and unlike Hadi Matar, he’s still worth hearing.

We think of fanatics as stalkers with an obsessive knowledge of their targets.  Like the antisemites who compile lists of Jews in the media or the homophobes who so focus on the details of gay sex they might almost be closet cases

Most terrorists and bigots are not like that. They are like soldiers in an army who kill and hate for no other reason than tradition or men in authority have told them to kill and hate. If we were less fascinated by the pseudo-glamour of violence, we would see them for what they are: dullards and jerks.

In Knife Salman is almost as angered by the sheer lazy stupidity of his wannabee assassin as his violence.

“I do not want to use his name in this account. My Assailant, my would-be Assassin, the Asinine man who made Assumptions about me, and with whom I had a near-lethal Assignation … I have found myself thinking of him, perhaps forgivably, as an Ass.”

The ass “didn’t bother to inform himself about the man he decided to kill. By his own admission he read barely two pages of my writing and watched a couple of YouTube videos”.

That was enough, apparently, along with a little light indoctrination in the Levant.

We know from Matar’s mother that her son changed from a popular young man to a moody religious zealot after visiting her ex-husband in the Hezbollah-controlled town of Yaroun in Lebanon, a mile or so from the Israeli border.

“I was expecting him to come back motivated, to complete school, to get his degree and a job. But instead, he locked himself in the basement. He had changed a lot. He didn't say anything to me or his sisters for months.”

Salman quotes a wonderfully perceptive line from Jodi Picoult

“If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.”

Rushdie is openly contemptuous, as he has every right to be.

“I see you now at twenty-four,” he writes, “already disappointed by life, disappointed in your mother, your sisters, your father, your lack of boxing talent, your lack of any talent at all; disappointed in the bleak future you saw stretching ahead of you, for which you refused to blame yourself.”

This has always been the way. Readers old enough to remember 1989 when the Ayatollah Khomeini ordered Salman’s execution for writing a blasphemous satire of Islam’s origin story in the Satanic Verses,will know that Khomeini had not read it. Nor had the furious demonstrators in the streets or the regressive leftists and Tory ministers who upbraided him for the non-crime of causing offence.

Those of us who had read the book pointed out that it was a magical realist fiction which contained sympathetic accounts of the racism Muslim immigrants in the UK suffered. Indeed, the Tories of the day loathed Salman, we continued, because of his confrontations with official racism.

But after a while we fell silent. Pleading with his enemies felt demeaning. It gave them undeserved credit, as if they were reasonable people, who could be swayed by evidence rather than just, well, pillocks.

In Knife Salman attempts an imaginary conversation with his persecutor.

OK, he says, Islam, unlike Judaism and Christianity, holds that man is not made in God’s image. God has no human qualities, it says.

But isn’t language a human quality? To have language, God would have to have a mouth, a tongue, vocal cords and a voice, just like a man. The terrorist’s understanding is that God cannot be like a man, however. So, God could not have spoken to Gabriel in Arabic. Gabriel must have translated his message when he came to the prophet.

The angel made it comprehensible to Muhammed by delivering it in human speech which is not the speech of God.

Thus, the version of Islamic instruction Matar received in his basement when he switched from playing video games to listening to Imams was an interpretation of a translation.

“I’m trying to suggest to you that, even according to your own tradition, there is uncertainty. Some of your own early philosophers have suggested this. They say everything can be interpreted, even the Book. It can be interpreted according to the times in which the interpreter lives. Literalism is a mistake.”

For a while, Rushdie says he wants to meet Matar again at the trial, as if he wants to have the argument in the flesh.

He tells a story about Samuel Beckett, which could only have happened to Samuel Beckett.

Beckett was walking through Paris in 1938 when he was confronted by a pimp named Prudent, who wanted money from him. Beckett pushed Prudent away, whereupon the pimp pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the chest, narrowly missing the left lung and the heart.

Beckett was taken to the nearest hospital, bleeding heavily. He only just survived.

You will never guess who paid for his treatment. James Joyce, of course, he did.

Anyway, Beckett went to the pimp’s trial. He met Prudent in the courtroom, and asked him why he had done it. This was the pimp’s reply: “Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Je m’excuse.” (I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.)

But the more he thought about it, the less Rushdie had to say to his enemy. The idea that you can have theological arguments with a man who wants to kill you for writing a book he hasn’t even read felt ridiculous.

Although popular culture is full of stories about murderers, and true crime podcasts top the charts, killers and fanatics are nearly always less interesting than their victims. More often than not they are just thick. Nasty and vicious, but thick first of all.

We are about to see the stupidity of fanatics deployed on a mass scale. Two thirds of Republican voters (and nearly 3 in 10 Americans) continue to believe that the 2020 election was stolen from Donald Trump, and that Joe Biden was not lawfully elected. They think it because that is what Trump told them to think.

Islamists told Matar that Salman was an apostate, and that was all he needed to know. Trump told Republicans the election was stolen and ditto.

If Republicans were consistent people, they would not vote for Trump in 2024. What would be the point? They would have every reason to fear that the deep state would rig the 2024 presidential election as it rigged the 2020 presidential election.

But they will vote for him because, once again, that is what he tells them to do.

In the end there is a limit to how much attention you can pay the vicious and the stupid.

They are not interesting enough, as Rushdie concluded with marvellous disdain as he contemplated the life sentence Matar will face.

"Here we stand: the man who failed to kill an unarmed seventy-five-year-old writer, and the now 76-year-old writer. Somewhat to my surprise, I find I have very little to say to you. Our lives touched each other for an instant and then separated. Mine has improved since that day, while yours has deteriorated. You made a bad gamble and lost. I was the one with the luck… Perhaps, in the incarcerated decades that stretch out before you, you will learn introspection, and come to understand that you did something wrong. But you know what? I don’t care. This, I think, is what I have come to this courtroom to say to you. I don’t care about you, or the ideology that you claim to represent, and which you represent so poorly. I have my life, and my work, and there are people who love me. I care about those things.”

[evansbuck-ley]

I have become obsessed with the Henry verse!! It's so cute it makes my heart melt! I was just wondering what's Henry's reaction to being a big brother now??

oh henry is obsessed with rosie

so the day that she was surrounded at the fire station henry was with his grampy bobby. they had been busy all afternoon in bobby’s vegetable garden so henry was completely clueless to what his dads were getting up to back at the 118. it wasn’t until much later he started getting an inkly that something was going on, bc he’s 5 and a half now, he was a clever boy. bobby excused himself from dinner and went into the other room to answer his phone. henry could hear mumbles from the other room but athena was still sat there doing her best to distract him.

when bobby came back to the kitchen he announced, sleep over and henry was thrilled bc more time with grampy bobby!! after dinner bobby tucked him into bed and told him that they were going to meet someone very special the next day and henry was beyond excited.

the next day bobby drives them to the hospital, buck and tommy still had paper work to fill out and a social worker had to do a home visit before they could take her home. when bobby carried henry into the small private room that the one of the nurses had set up for them, the boy was practically vibrating. bobby put henry down on the floor and took off running to where his daddy was sat cradling rosie. tommy scooped him up before he had the chance to collide into bucks legs.

they tell her she is his baby sister and henry just starts gushing over her, when is she coming home daddy? can i hold her? she’s so little daddy. do you think she will come and watch the monster trucks with us and uncle eddie papa?

as they grow up henry’s is just as obsessed, he’s her protector, her first best friend. he plays princess with her when she’s four, he help her with her math homework when she’s six, he’s there when she gets her heart broken for the first time when she’s 13. he loves her as much as a big brother can love his littler sister.

[lovelytsunoda]

the 'welcome to wherever you are' verse!

pairing: lance stroll x hutchence! reader

y/n hutchence is australia's pub rock darling. as the lead singer of inxs, her father was one of australia's biggest rock stars- arguably the last great one. follow along as she marries the love of her life and navigates married life to formula one's most well known nepo baby.

the lore: all about michael hutchence and y/n!

part one welcome to wherever you are

weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions. but for lance's fiancee, the wedding is just another big milestone that her father never lived to see, like her first day of kindergarten, or her high school graduation.

part two spill the wine

honeymooning with the hutchence-strolls (featuring chaotic comments from the old men + fernando ) a.k.a, capri will always hold a special place in y/n's heart.

part three gonna have a good time tonight

it’s time for lance and y/n’s annual canada day party. as an australian, y/n never really got the hype, but any excuse to get her old men in a room with lances old men was bound to create chaos

part four i’m just a man

as f1 rolls into austin, lance and his wife take a quick detour to visit something very important in california: her fathers gravesite

part five mystify

part six full moon … dirty hearts

more to be added!

[tennessoui]

Number 8, please, for hold my heart more gently than you hold my throat

thank you for sending this one in!!! (throat fic verse is a/b/o)

[from this prompt list]

8. What happens if one of them gets sick?

you KNOW throat fic obi-wan would rather die than admit to being sick because his master already thinks he's weak and not to be trusted in a fight. he'd be incredibly stubborn about the whole thing and block their bond and try to carry on even if he's got a burning fever and is probably actually a liability in a fight. master anakin is incensed that his padawan has the nerve to block their bond. if he hadn't already fallen years ago due to padawan related strife, he'd definitely fall rn

but then there's also this other side of throat fic obi-wan:

Obi-Wan's head is killing him. Like, physically, actually, really killing him this time. He rolls his head to the side to peer blearily at the chronometer by his bedside. 16:06. On one hand, that can't be right. On the other, it must be. He'd fallen into this bed, fresh from Quinlan's, at roughly 9 in the morning after being a state of perpetual wakefulness the entire night. A combination of death sticks, alcohol, and teenage rebellion does that to a person.

His eyes fall to half-mast as he rolls--carefully--onto his back and stares up at the ceiling of his room. He wonders if Anakin is back yet. He'd left shortly before Obi-Wan the previous night, something about a dinner with Padmé's family. He hadn't sounded excited, but then, how could he have not been? Usually when he leaves the Temple to visit with Padmé, he is gone until the morning.

Obi-Wan wonders bitterly how many nights his master spent with his wife while Obi-Wan was on Melida/Daan. It took him five weeks to track him down. Perhaps he didn't even notice for four.

The thought is more self-pitying than he usually allows, but his body is sore and his head is killing him and his master's probably out there cozying up to senators. Or, even worse, just the one senator.

He gives his bedding a careful sniff before he wrinkles his nose and forces himself to sit up. A change in location is what he needs. He should rot on the couch instead of his bed. It will surely help him feel better. And then, when his master returns from flaunting his lovely relationship with the senator, he can see his padawan's deceased and lifeless corpse on their sectional and feel terribly guilty that he was away as his poor padawan succumbed to his affliction.

Obi-Wan swaddles himself in a comfortable outer robe that he thinks may have once been Anakin's and makes the treacherous journey from his room to the couch. He collapses onto it and curls up around one of their throw pillows, cushioning his aching, poor, hungover head with the other one.

An undeterminable amount of time later, a rough, dry hand falls against his shoulder and then moves up to cup his neck. Without even opening his eyes, Obi-Wan recognizes the touch of his master.

"There you are," Master Skywalker says. He smells like sweat and the training salles. Like mechanical oil and something floral and soft and sweet. Obi-Wan fights against the urge to wrinkle his nose in distaste. "Have you been here all day, padawan?"

"No," Obi-Wan croaks, opening his eyes only enough to see the underside of his master's chin before he closes them again.

"Hm," Master Skywalker says.

"What did you do today, master?" Obi-Wan asks, tilting his head just enough that Anakin's fingers slip from his neck to slide through his hair. He sighs at the feeling. It is so nice. Master Skywalker is so nice when he is here, when he is Obi-Wan's.

Master Skywalker's voice carries a hint of amusement as he obliges and begins to stroke his head. "Hm, I had breakfast with Master Secura, led a class on meditation to the newest batch of younglings, and sparred with Master Fisto until supper." He punctuates his words with a tug of his hair. "Which you missed, by the way."

Obi-Wan turns his face away. He doesn't want Anakin's touch if Anakin is going to be mean about it.

"And now I'm needed at the opera for a performance," his master adds. "Padmé's idea, not mine."

Obi-Wan's frown increases tenfold. It isn't fair. She already had him for a night. He's Obi-Wan's master. How dare she think her claim extends further than the Temple's doorstep.

"Master," he says impulsively, turning back to look up at Anakin with pleading eyes, "I'm not feeling well, Master."

"I suspect that may be because of the amount you drank last night, padawan," Master Skywalker replies, tone strangely light as his fingers run down the length of Obi-Wan's face.

Obi-Wan frowns. "I think I really am very sick, master," he says. "I shouldn't be alone, I don't think."

Master Skywalker's eyes flash. His hand stills.

"But if you're going to be at the opera tonight, I suppose--I can manage," he adds. It's a delicate line to walk. If Anakin weren't planning to go see his--his--wife, then Obi-Wan would never admit to feeling unwell. But he is. So, Obi-Wan must. It is the natural order of things. Anakin is Obi-Wan's master. No matter the root cause of his sickness--his hangover--his master should stay with him when he feels so wretched.

"I can call Quin again," he mutters, even as he tilts his face into Anakin's featherlight touch. His master's face darkens like an approaching thunderstorm. "If I start to feel really poorly. He can take care of me."

Master Skywalker's lips turn down into a fierce scowl, and Obi-Wan holds his breath. "No," he snaps, and Obi-Wan has to bite his lip to hold back his automatic purr. "No, I'll stay in tonight. If my padawan is feeling unwell...I should stay."

Obi-Wan bites his lip. It's only been six weeks since they'd arrived back on Coruscant from Melida/Daan. He shouldn't push his luck. He's lucky to still have Anakin's attention at all. To still have a master. "But what about the opera?" he asks carefully, sitting up on his elbows to peer at his master. "The senator will want you."

Once more, Master Skywalker's eyes flash, and he slips onto the couch next to Obi-Wan, resting his thigh in the space where his head had been. His hand falls back to rest on his neck, using the grip to push him back down. Obi-Wan goes easily. This is perhaps everything he's ever wanted in the galaxy.

"Unfortunately, I will have to let her know that priorities have shifted," Master Skywalker murmurs as his hand falls back to that scent-gland beneath his ear. He thumbs at it. If Obi-Wan didn't feel quite so close to nausea due to his hangover, he thinks he'd be getting wet from the sensation. "Mine have at least."

They're strange words, yet Obi-Wan welcomes them because they mean that Anakin will stay. It is everything he wants; it is far more than he deserves.

[the0maski]

Not necessarily LU based, but in the overall “canon” -verse the Hero of Time doesn’t exist in two timelines, right? He died in the Downfall Timeline and never came to be a hero in the Child Timeline.

Legend and Hyrule probably only heard about the title Fallen Hero, never his true title. Same goes for Twilight, only knowing Time as the Hero’s Shade or Cursed Swordsman. Which means, only Wind knows about Time, and he is the only one with a legend about him.

Funny detail, if Hyrule Warriors would fall under the Child Timeline that would mean that Time was present during the whole timeline, it gets better if Mask was only dragged into the war, because the goddesses pulled a: You broke it, you fix it! Making it more fun, Time becomes just history’s biggest mystery and meme under historians. To the point where there are huge debates about him, because some records say that he lived after the Hyrulean civil war, but at the same time he is mention being at the War of Ages which was two whole Eras later! Was he ever a hero? Why are they no family records about him? Was he really just a forest spirit, was he even hylian?

Flora would absolutely have a field day, if the chain ever stepped only a foot in Wild’s Hyrule. Seeing how she is extremely interested in history.

For real: there is to little mention, in the fandom, that the Hero of Time is only known to one person (Or two if Mask had been in the war). Everyone else had never heard of him, less knew that there was a hero that came after Four. How had they all found each other? I know that, there is a fanfic troupe of the chain slowly forming, while hopping through portals ending in a new Link’s Hyrule. But in comic, the first time they all walked through a portal together, was after visiting Malon. Meaning they all met in Time’s Hyrule, in the Timeline were he is no “hero”. How did they find Time, since asking for a hero would not worked? What makes me also believe, that Time is only leader of the group, because he is the oldest and apparently has a high rank among Hyrule’s military. Maybe he showed the Triforce mark on his hand? But less likely since he hides it most times.

My money goes to Wind or Twilight. Wind talking randomly to this soldier, about the legend of his time, not knowing he is speaking directly to said person of the legend. The rancher only because, he got flashbacks of Shade, and he needed to find out more. Bonus would be Warriors lost at words, because that one deity that sometimes possessed his little brother, became the Milkman!

[thatmexisaurusrex]

I wanted to collect the entirety of the Denial-Verse thus far, my canon compliant fics following Tommy and Buck’s love story throughout the show. It's a character study in loneliness, belonging, what it means to be and feel loved, and what steps it takes to finally believe one can have happiness. And while it will be coming back for Season 8 and will probably have a few short stories here and there before Season 8 begins, I wanted to highlight all four of the current fics within the series.

caught in this denial (tell me the day, I’ll say no more)

| Rated: M | WC: 35K | Chapters: 7 |

Summary: Tommy Kinard's life changes for the better when his old friend Chimney calls him out of the blue for help on a rescue and he meets the adorably awkward Evan "Buck" Buckley.

Excerpt:

Was this man looking down to see the hand or – no. No. Tommy knew it couldn’t be checking out. That wasn’t happening here. The guy took Tommy’s hand and shook it. Kept shaking it as he said, “Evan! Evan Buckley. Or Buck. Whatever you, uh. Want to call me is fine.” And it wouldn’t hurt to be a little friendly, could it? Evan didn’t seem to mind as Tommy leaned only a touch closer, looking into the man’s unwavering eyes as Tommy asked, “Are you sure you don’t have a preference, Evan?” That. That wasn’t blush. That wasn’t bashfulness as Evan’s eyes turned away. This had to be what Evan always sounded like as he mumbled at the ground, still shaking Tommy’s hand, “Evan’s fine.”

Muay Thai and Flying Lessons

| Rated: M | WC: 45.6K | Chapters: 10 |

Summary: Tommy Kinard is dating Evan "Buck" Buckley. They're even going to a wedding together in a few weeks. Tommy's excited about this new relationship, if a little nervous. But Tommy has a good feeling about Evan, and he wants to see this through.

Excerpt:

“Wait, so if you’re not here to hang out with Eddie, who are you hanging out with?” asked Hen. Tommy. Heard the thud of someone falling down from the firetruck. And there, on the floor, faceplanted and looking drained of all energy, was Evan Buckley. “Evan?” asked Tommy.

Burnt Lasagna and Slow Dances

| Rated: M | WC: 74.4K | Chapters: 15 |

Summary: Tommy Kinard now has an adorable boyfriend - Evan "Buck" Buckley. And for the first time in Tommy's life, he feels like, maybe, just maybe, this relationship might last.

Excerpt:

And all those different conversations overlapping was overwhelming. Tommy barely knew if he could untangle them, let alone take any of them in. But through all the noise and chaos, he saw Evan’s texts. EVAN: Hey EVAN: Saw that Tay interviewed you EVAN: I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen someone trip her up because of genuine honesty haha EVAN: Today was probably rough, though EVAN: I’ll pick you up, okay? Tommy smiled at that. And Tommy texted Evan back. TOMMY: It was rough TOMMY: Thank you, I’d love for you to pick me up Tommy heard the telltale ding of a cell phone… right outside the locker room. Tommy looked to the door, seeing Evan waiting there with a bouquet of flowers. Tommy’s smile grew wider.

A Surprise Visit

| Rated: T | WC: 2.4k |

Summary: Tommy goes to his first pride parade as a volunteer giving out water.

Excerpt:

“Tommy!” Tommy blinked, turning to the voice as he saw Hen, Karen, Denny, Mara, Jee-Yun, and Maddie walk over. Tommy. Kind of beamed, standing up. “Hey,” said Tommy as the all came over, “What are you all doing here?” There was something adorable to Hen and Karen’s shirts. Hen’s said “I Heart My Tungsten-Iodine-Iron” and Karen’s said “I Heart My Helium-Nitrogen”. The phrases were painted on these shirts in the colors of the lesbian flag, which made Tommy chuckle once he realized that these dorks made periodic table pride shirts. Maddie and the kids didn’t have anything on for pride, much like Tommy himself, but they seemed to find the same pride pin that Tommy was gifted. Maddie raised a hand. “I might have learned from Buck that you were at the stand today, and I thought – I have the day off. Hen and Karen have the day off. Wouldn’t hurt to offer it as an option,” explained Maddie. “We haven’t gone to Pride in a while, and we knew you were working this one,” said Karen thoughtfully, smiling, “So, we thought we’d support your free water stand.”

By A Thousand Cuts

| Rated: M | WC: 11.5K | Chapters: 3/3 |

Summary: Tommy Kinard has his first big fight with his boyfriend, Evan "Buck" Buckley.

Excerpt:

“I think I just had the worst shift of my life,” Tommy said as he dropped his duffle next to the door, a little – a little shocked by what had just happened to him on that shift.

The Fire is Inside the House

| Rated: M | WC: 79.1K | Chapters: 14 |

Summary: Evan "Buck" Buckley is fighting a wildfire with the 118, when he sees a helicopter crash - the helicopter of his boyfriend, Tommy Kinard. It's a race against time to find Tommy before the wildfire hits the crash site.

EXCERPT:

Buck couldn’t stop smiling at Tommy. Tommy was just. Hot. And nice. And he showed up. Always. Fuck. Buck loved this guy. “What?” asked Tommy, and there was a hint of a smile there. “Nothing. I just like you driving me,” said Buck. And Buck could see that Tommy couldn’t help it, he smiled too; not quite the scrunchy kind, but that dimpled one he did. The morning was young. Buck could get his man to that scrunch nose smile. “Oh, you like a chauffeur?” asked Tommy playfully. “Only one as hot as you.” And there was the scrunch. “I only drive the hottest myself.”

[willowed-wisp]

THE WAYWARD AND THE WARDEN - part one

previous | next

Cregan Stark x female!OC/ x reader

WARNINGS: swearing, injury, threat… not too bad really

She was just a girl. Eighteen years of age.

A fresh university student on her Christmas holidays- venturing up to Scotland to be with her aunt and uncle.

Philippa had nothing. Parents gone…

At least the remaining family she had were kind, no children of their own to dote on.

She had living in Scotland for those past four years- venturing down south for her education - so she knew her way around.

Driving, “Just another left and then a right,” but the snow made it difficult to navigate; caught in a rife blizzard. One minute she was listening to rock music in her small Mini Cooper. Then the front bonnet was wrapped around tree bark. Philippa unaware as her skull bumped back against the seat’s head; she was dead to the world.

Not able to help a groan leave her lips, thrumming pounded against her temple. Philippa unable to feel the rest of her. Her lower half powdered with fresh fallen snow.

Where was her car? She had been wearing a seatbelt… why was she waist deep in the snow?

Philippa’s gaze burned by the iced haze, whatever she bored her eyes on happened to be a wasteland of frost. That wasn’t the same spot…

When she thought nothing of her body could be felt, fearing paralysis, a crackle of kindling spread her thigh. “Fuck…” looking down she found a bare leg, and a bare stomach… naked chest. And quite a splash of blood from where her fingers met her forehead.

But there was nothing except trenches of tundra for miles… “I’m gonna die here,” no she wasn’t, death would have to drag her by the ankles…

Despite the numbed ache waking throughout her skin, she laboured; dragging through knee deep snowfall and more piled up.

She could no longer feel that sting, unaware to the frostbite reigning of her flesh. “I’m not fucking dying here…” Toes numbed yet scorched. She had almost ignored the wall of ice up ahead, but it was the last thing she saw before a void of black.

It was warm?

Had she died?

Philippa felt at peace, crackling of a log fire to her left without the bitterness of the outdoors.

Fingertips wandered across soft fur while her eyes opened- wishful thinking came to an immediate shatter. A circlet chandelier, candlelit, above her with pure stone casting shadows above itself.

Similar to a castle- auntie Carol and Uncle Gyles made frequent day trips to visit historical monuments around the United Kingdom; her parents had shared that same interest, so she was well versed in the differences of Carlisle to Windsor.

She was in neither.

The girl sat up, covers gathered around her hips. She took in the room- plain yet plentiful. She found herself in a massive bed, standing candelabras casting light amongst the darkness of night. The fire place roaring prevented her from being frozen.

Snow dripped in flurries the other side of the windows.

Heaven nor Hell looked like that.

Where the fuck was she?

Eyes cast down into the folded pile of clothes, thick layers.

She wasn’t being tortured, it seemed she was a guest.

Philippa had been dressed in a simple white cloth gown. Alike the clothes placed down for her, they looked… medieval; lace-up dress and a thick cape which pooled on the ground.

Twas not an easy feat lacing the dress in lonesome, and she was pretty damned sure she had made a sham of it.

But she needed to get out of the room. No matter how calm she appeared on the surface, beneath she suffocated.

Along Philippa’s way down the intricate halls, barren stone. She bumped into a wide-shouldered, broad obstacle, “I’m sorry,” polite yet dismissive, she just needed to get some kind of sense.

She continued down the corridor. Lit by torched-sconces that flickered, while wind whipped behind her speeding paces.

‘Did that guy wear a wolf pelt?’ Shaking the thought to the wayside- not looking back.

It was a castle.

Not the largest she’s visited but that didn’t take away from the stone complex- mostly obscured by freezing mist.

Arms wrapped around herself, it felt like Scotland although it certainly was not. “Where am I?” She asked the neck-snapping breeze.

“The North,” A rough, rich voice boomed from the door behind. It was confident and foreboding- Philippa quivered in secrecy.

Ominous. “Of course I’m in the north, could you be more specific? Because it’s fucking chilly,” A hint of sarcasm and a sprinkle of jesting, wholly serious. Meanwhile her eyes focused on the silhouettes forward.

“You’re in Winterfell,” still as rough as steel.

That atmosphere was too heavy, “Is that near Glasgow? Because I need to be in Edinburgh…” Silence followed.

He didn’t seemed awfully amused.

Heaving steps- clanking of metal in sync. A charcoal section of fur had been the first thing in her peripheral.

That wolf pelt.

“I said I was sorry,” a squeaky to the man- almost a foot taller. And she wasn’t even short. Philippa couldn’t help but admire handsome features, made harsh and rugged by the murky light. That presence was unshakeable… a mountain of a man.

His eyes looked brown- though she could be mistaken. “Why were you over the Wall?” Philippa feared in utter bemusement. She’d never experienced that combination before.

“What-,” one movement made her flinch. But the one hand grappling her wrist, dragged her close to him- her chin raised staring into that icy gaze.

Teeth gritted while he spoke, “Why were you over the Wall?” Eyes made her cower.

Pleading with wide-eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man let her go but that closeness remained.

“You sound like a southerner… what’s your name?” Brows crossed and lips scowling. Maybe that was just him.

“Philippa.” He circled her slowly- studying her.

He stopped in front of her again, catching her in his gaze, “And what is it that you do, Philippa?”

She tried to put it into basic terms, “I’m a healer, i think you do things differently.”

He still frowned, “Maester Samm will hone your craft,” she simply nodded- shaking whether it be from the cold or the nerves. “Those chambers you woke in are yours, we’ve been in need of a healer for a while now.” Without a second word he brooded off.

Nobody would understand her predicament- if this ‘Winterfell’ was anything like the history she knew she’d be burnt at the stake as a witch. And being a healer wouldn’t aid her, but she was a quick learner and knew holistic approaches.

Philippa just needed an education on the herbs and flowers they had because if medicine was anything like the medieval age… she needed to know what was potent and what was outright deadly.

And so she went back to her room. Twiddling her thumbs until the morning.

A knock at the door, “come in.” Like a mouse but the person heard and the door creaked open. A long mop of black- gorgeously glossy.

Smile on her face, “I’m Melaine, and you must Philippa. You’re training with Maester Samn,” an accent similar to those of her aunt and uncle.

“I’m afraid I didn’t get much information about that…”

A laugh. “Lord Cregan doesn’t mince his words, never has, even when he was a wee ankle-biter,” free speaking like a Scotsman. “He’s a good man, but the North shapes a lad even if they are eight-and-ten,” the woman was much older than Philippa, probably in her forties which meant she had been in service more than two decades maybe three.

“He looks older,”

“It shapes them to have rough edges, lass,” the sky was clear- and though snow had settled none descended upon them. And so she could take in the massive gates; one in front and one to her right. “It’ll change you soon enough. Get rid of that politeness, make you more bold…”

A quizzical look from the teenager, “I doubt that. My parents, even as a child, called me a stubborn mule.”

“We’ll see about that as a healer in Winterfell… lads here draw swords like us maids light matchsticks…”

Melaine reminded Philippa of her auntie Carol- comforting and a safety blanket while Cregan Stark was something she wanted to hide from but she had a feeling they’d have a few run ins with each other whether that be locking heads or weaving stitches.

——————————

If you wanna be tagged leave a comment or message me! x

Hope that wasn’t too awful, I’m getting into the groove of writing again.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 50 – ENDGAME

SERIES: front row seats by Annie D (scaramouche)

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Steve/Peggy Rating: M Words: 27,182 Tags: Branching Timelines, Post-Endgame, Canon Compliant

Summary: A Steve/Tony series that follows one of the branching timelines set up by Avengers: Endgame.

Reasons why I love it: This series is everything I never knew I needed. The way it takes the implications of the Endgame ending and spins them to their furthest possible conclusion is so satisfying. I'm in awe of Annie D for coming up with this, because in my head this is canon now. You can't convince me otherwise.

This series consists of:

Something Beautiful

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Steve/Peggy Rating: T Words: 5,367 Tags: Alternate Reality, 1940s Branching Timeline, Making Up

Summary: In one universe sideways, it’s 2012 and the Avengers have just defeated Loki and the Chitauri. Steve Rogers, who has been out of the ice for almost ten years, wonders if his retaking the shield for this event was a one-off, or if he’s ready to keep it again. It depends on Tony.

Reasons why I love it: I really, really love how Annie D manages to drop all these little tidbits about how MCU-Steve going back in time changed the reality that this other version of Steve now lives in. The changes feel so organic, and it's all due to the way they're woven into the story without ever dumping exposition on the reader. It's legitimately masterful, and one of the reasons why Annie D's writing never fails to impress me. Definitely read this one, it's so good!

Safest Hands

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Steve/Peggy Rating: T Words: 7,080 Tags: Established Relationship, Declarations of Love, Marriage Proposal

Summary: In the one universe sideways, it’s 2016 and the Avengers have fled underground in the wake of what is the worst streak of bad luck they've ever had. Steve, Tony and Natasha are on the run together, and take temporary cover at a friend’s house.

Reasons why I love it: The interactions that Steve has with Grant are so good it kind of makes me mad that this isn't canon. And the absolute trainwreck that is Steve's proposal is so perfect it just feels like everything I love about Stony as a ship. I love this fic to death, along with this entire series!

No Do-Overs

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Steve/Peggy Rating: M Words: 10,097 Tags: Permanent Injury, Angst, Schmoop

Summary: In the one universe sideways, it’s 2018 and the Avengers and their allies have just defeated Thanos. Steve and Tony retreat from the limelight to recover, and are visited by an old friend who has an unusual request.

Reasons why I love it: I can't believe just how much this fic patches up all the holes in the MCU's logic about time-travel. It slots so neatly into canon that it's honestly baffling. I will never not think about this verse when watching Endgame now, and I couldn't be happier about it. Give yourself a treat and read this, because you WILL be impressed!

Twice the Groom

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Steve/Peggy Rating: T Words: 4,028 Tags: Bittersweet, Canonical Past Character Death, Alternate Reality

Summary: Grant Carter, formerly known as Steve Rogers, attends a wedding.

Reasons why I love it: I'm so happy that we get to see Grant's PoV in this fic. In the rest of the series, the implications of what this branching timeline might mean to him is alluded to, but here we get to see it more explicitly. I especially love his conversation with Bucky and the dorky Stony fluff, oh my god, it's so good. This fic is wonderful, and you should give it a read!

Timestamp: Front Row Seats

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Steve/Peggy Rating: G Words: 610 Tags: Multiverse, Canon Divergent, Phase Four

Summary: Steve and Tony may be retired, but they still get called in sometimes. Across universes, even.

Reasons why I love it: Okay, this is the final nail in the coffin – this verse is canon now. I've decided. This is canon and absolutely mandatory reading for any Stony fan. By the power invested in me by absolutely no one, I declare this series an official part of the MCU. Thank me later, and go read it if you haven't already!

[amiserableseriesofevents]

breaking down mid-hug because they just needed this so much please 🥹🫶🏻

Months later, here I finally am 😅

Thank you Ali for this ask, I hope you'll like this little thing 🥰🥰

Such stuff-verse, post fic, set during the months following the last chapter

The phone rings. One, two, three, four, five rings.

A click. Voicemail.

Sigh.

“Hi dad, it's me. How are you? Mum told me you're ok but I'm, ah, just checking in. So, the show went well! Very well actually, you can read all of it in the paper if you want, they're saying great things about us. About me, specifically! So, yeah, maybe this has been the right time! Pity you missed it, uh? I'll let you know the next dates, maybe you'll catch it. Well, call me when you get the message. Goodbye dad, see ya.”

—

Four rings, voicemail.

“Hi dad, it's me. I had a ticket saved up for you on Friday but they told me no one showed up to collect it. I knew it was a long shot but I really hoped you could finish working a little sooner that night to see the show. I know it's something you don't really like but I think you should give it a chance. It would mean the world to me. I have to go now, talk to you soon. Goodbye.”

—

Straight to voicemail.

“Hey dad! Ellie just told me you went visiting her at Uni last week. I live just two hours away from her now, and on the road back to Wisconsin. I guess you didn't know if I was at home though, with all the touring and stuff; next time I'll tell Ellie to let you know if I'm around so you can come say hi, ok? Love you, talk soon!”

—

“Hi dad, it's John. Long time no see, uh? I don't know if mum told ya but we've just finished touring with the show and I'm going to say hi to Ellie at Uni. I was thinking maybe I could come visit you and mum for a day or two? There's a few things I'd like to talk to you about, if that's ok with you. Call back when you get the message, will you? Ok, bye.”

—

Gale's doing the closing round at the Abbotts when John arrives, sneaking in through the exiting crowd. He finds him waiting in the lobby, his face strangely devoid of feeling, eyes vacant as if he's thinking hard about something; Gale smiles when he sees him, the weight of the few days spent apart lifting from his shoulders. “Hey, stranger,” he calls with a fond smile, half expecting John to run up to him and crush him in a hug, or squeeze his cheeks and kiss him; he does neither of these things though, he just snaps his attention to him and offers a tight smile.

“Hey Buck. Need a hand with something?”

Perplexed but trying not to show it too much, Gale leans in to peck his boyfriend on the lips. “Nah, I've already done everything. I was just about to close up and meet the others at the pub, would you like that?”

A night out with friends and a beer always lifts up John's morale, even if he's tired; this time though, he grimaces a little at the offer. “I was just thinking maybe we could stay here for a while? You know, just like old times; I've really missed you, and this place, I'll admit it.”

There's definitely something really wrong, but before alarm bells can start going off inside his brain Gale nods, reaching out tentatively to move an unruly comb away from John's forehead and exhaling softly in relief when he leans into the touch. “Yeah, sure. I've been missing you too,” he says trying to steal something more than a tense smile from John. “Let me just close the front door and then I'm all yours.”

They go sit on the couch in the dressing rooms, all the lights in the building out except a small one in the corner; John looks awfully pale in its dull halo, with shadows under his eyes and that same, void expression that scares Gale a little. He racks his brain trying to figure out what's wrong: John went to visit his sister at Uni, and him and Ellie have a good relationship as far as Gale knows.

He sits next to John on the couch, puts a hand on his knee as gently as he can — I'm here if you need me, please tell me what's wrong, he means. Communication isn't their strongest suit, sure, but he hopes John will understand anyway.

“I saw my dad while I was there,” John says after a while, still staring ahead and not looking at Gale. His hand on John's knee twitches slightly in surprise but that's all the reaction he allows himself, waiting for John to go on.

“I've been trying to reach him for months, since The Tempest opened but he would never pick up, only send me straight to voicemail without ever calling back. This time he did, he called back and took me out for dinner; I was so excited about it, I though my mum had finally talked him through and he wanted to know more about the show, or the next one, whatever,” John continues. His brow is twitching like it often does when he's angry but his voice is still and cold as ice, scarily so. Gale hums softly, to let him know he's listening.

“But that wasn't it. The dinner was just an excuse to tell me that he'd been pulling some strings and he'd found me a job, a proper job, in one of his pals' companies. He said since I'm not a kid anymore I have to stop with these stupid ideas and find something that actually allows me to earn some money and be a normal, independent adult. I tried to explain to him that things are going well now, that we've been making money with the company, I even mentioned how we've invested in the Abbotts but he just- he just wouldn't listen. He didn't care. He said it's stupid and that I'll never become one of the greats because I'm not good enough for that, and stage actors don't make as much as movie actors anyway so it's been the wrong choice from the beginning. And when I told him I wouldn't accept his offer he told me to stop calling him every time I have a show, whining and begging him to come, because he'll never set foot in a theatre to watch me making a fool of myself.”

John's breath is coming harsher and faster now and Gale can't do anything but squeeze the hand on his knee, his insides boiling with rage towards John's father; how dare he make John feel like this, like nothing?

Gale knows the full extent of the effort John puts in his craft, how much he studies, how hard he works for it. He knows all the sacrifices he's made in the past year and what he achieved, how brave he's been even if he was terrified of failing, how happy he is now that everything paid off, how good he is. And his father dared make him feel like all that he's done means nothing?

He wonders how it's possible for a man like this, so mean and close minded, to have brought into the world someone like John — John who is kind, John who loves with all his heart, John who believed in Gale's dream even when he didn't have it in himself to do so.

“Oh darlin',” he says when it becomes clear that the story's over, that John has no more words to spare for it. “I am so sorry he told you all that. You know it isn't true, right?”

John still doesn't answer.

“John, darlin', he doesn't deserve to have you feeling like this. He doesn't want to come see you? Screw him, his loss. There's no seat here or in all the theaters in the world for someone who doesn't support you, it's not worth it,” Gale continues. It's easy for him to say, he's given up on his family years ago, suffered at the hands of his father's hatred many times and he likes to think he's mostly over it. But he still remembers the first times, the fear of having made a mistake leaving them behind, the sadness he felt every time he couldn't call them to celebrate a good grade or to seek comfort during rough times; it breaks his heart to know that now John will have to feel this way too, even if he still has his mom and sisters, because he believed his father could change his mind.

John exhales, shakily. “I just didn't think he could be this mean,” he says. Gale takes it as his cue to snake his arms around John and hug him as tight as he can, rubbing a comforting palm up and down his back

John holds him back, ever tighter, and buries his head in the curve of Gale's neck; it's something he always does when he's upset and can't face the outside world, Gale's smell and his soft skin a source of comfort better than any other. It's grounding, usually, but this time the scent of home is the thing that breaks the dam and he starts crying, softly at first and then louder, hands gripping at Gale like at a lifeline. Anger, frustration, and disappointment shake him, the sting of tears itself irritating because it's not fair that he has to feel like this because of something he loves so much, it's not fair.

Gale keeps holding him, murmuring kisses and sweet words in his wild curls, uncaring that John's tears are soaking his t-shirt. When the crying subsides he gently lifts John's face to take a proper look at him, then wipes the tears away from his cheeks.

“'M sorry,” John croaks out. Gale leans in to kiss the salty traces off his skin, red and irritated and hot.

“There's no need to,” he speaks, softly. “You can cry if you need to, I'm here for you. Even if your father will refuse to, we're not gonna stop believing in you. I'm not gonna stop encouraging you to do theatre, and I'll always be there by your side. Ok? I love you.”

John's eyes swell up again at his words, and he goes back hiding himself in the comfort of Gale's embrace; there's no safer place for him to be, Gale has made sure of that. He'll use his love to shield him, however possible, from the pain and the grief of mourning someone who's still very much alive.

For tonight, he'll hold him there however long John needs. Even until the end of the world, if that's what it takes.

[escapedaudios]

There's a (mostly) dead American Christmas tradition originating from rural southern Germany where a mysterious fur-clad figure known at the Belsnickel (aka Belznickel) visits your house and gives gifts to the virtuous and punishes the devilish with his birchwood whip. He's a much lesser-known folkoric Christmas figure than his German and Austrian cousins Knecht Ruprecht and Krampus, but I have a soft spot for him. He was once very popular in the Eastern United States as far north as Maine and as far south as South Carolina until Santa Claus fully took over around the 1920s. He's special to me, because he's one of the only Christmas figures that doesn't know if you've been naughty or nice, but instead plays games to test your character.

Once a year I dress up and visit a Christmas party, where the guests have to play Belsnickel's ten games. Some of the games are traditional German games, some are traditional German-American games from the 18th century, and some are my original creations. They evolve from year to year, since some games have twists and surprises that would be spoiled if revealed. You can play them too!

These are Belsnickel's Ten Games of Virtue, 2024 edition!

Game 1: Die Versuchung. Belsnickel's game of temptation.

Belsnickel arrives in the house and makes his introduction. As he does, he "accidentally" drops a treat on the floor while greeting the guests. If someone picks up the present and returns it to Belsnickel, they are rewarded by being allowed to keep the gift. If they try to steal the treat for themselves, they are whipped on the wrist and made to return the gift.

Game 2: Der Weisheitswettwerb. Belsnickel's Game of Wisdom.

Participants are invited to recite a wise proverb, quote, aphorism, or verse of religious scripture. Whoever impresses the Belsnickel the most with their wisdom gets an extra good present.

Game Three: Der Aufmerksamkeitstest.

Belsnickel's game of attention and memory. During his introduction, he taught the participants two German words. If they recite them correctly, they get a treat. If they do it incorrectly, they get whipped on the wrist.

Game Four: Die Frage der Tugend. Belsnickel's game of virtue.

Belsnickel invites the participants to tell of a time they showed great virtue since last Christmas. Belsnickel then choses the two best stories, and stops to ponder who should get the prize. If one of the two finalists recommends that their competitor should get the prize, they both get a prize. If they bicker and argue that they are the more vortuous one, they get whipped.

Game Five: Das Anschuldigungspiel. Belsnickel's Accusation Game.

In this game, participants may point out and accuse others of devilish behavior. The accused has sixty seconds to defend themselves. If they defend themselves, the accuser is whipped instead. At the end of the game, anyone who refused to make accusations is rewarded with a little treat.

Game Six: Das Lehrspiel. Teach Der Belsnickel.

Belsnickel wants to learn. He chooses a topic and everyone in the group is invited to share a compelling fact about that topic with him. The fact that fascinates him the most gets a reward!

Game Seven: Freude für das Monster. Cheer up Belsnickel

Belsnickel has some self esteem issues. He's one of the least popular Christmas figures. Cheer him up by telling him he's the best, specifically why he's better than Santa Claus and his rival Krampus. He'll reward whoever cheers him up and boosts his self esteem.

Game Eight: Bestraften oder Bestraft. Punish or Be Punished

In this game you may give up one of your gifts to have another player punished, whether or not they are guilty of anything. This only works a certain number of times though. After a random number of punishments, Belsnickel will punish you instead for targeting another participant.

Game Nine: Das Glückspiel. Belsnickel's Game of Chance.

Two relatively expensive and highly desirable treats are placed in the center of a table, and each participant is invited to wager one of their treats to participate in the game. They each split into groups of heads or tails, until everyone is eliminated expect for one finalist. The winner is offered the two treats, followed by the rest of the pile. Belsnickel then reminds them how great the starting prize was, and tells them he'd be very impressed with their virtue if the winner returned the other player's wagers to everyone else. If they return the wagers, they are praised, if they take them, their winnings come with a slap on the wrist from Belsnickel's birchwood whip.

Game Ten: Ein Samen zum Planten. Belsnckel's Seeds.

My version of Belsnickel loves pumpkins! He gives each participant a handful of pumpkin seeds to plant the following summer, with instructions to bring him a pumpkin next December. You get a great prize if you bring him a pumpkin! But beware, Belsnickel knows what cultivar of pumpkin you're growing with those seeds. If you cheat and bring him a pumpkin you didn't grow yourself, he'll know, and you'll be in big trouble!

Try playing Belsnickel's games! Also, can you guess which games are traditional, and which ones are part of my own personal tradition?