#i started this back in september and finally finished it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harrysfolklore · 7 months ago

Text

labyrinth - fc43

summary: as the only female driver on the grid, everything in yn's life was planned like a perfect qualifying lap. then franco colapinto had to show up. first, he was just that annoying new guy who took her best friend's seat. then he became the driver she absolutely couldn't stand (or at least that's what she kept telling herself) word count: over 13k + social media posts

folkie radio: GUYYYYSSS SHE'S HERE! i started writing this fic in september and it's finally her time to shine!! this is my first time writing driver!reader so please be gentle with me. also, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! may all of your wishes come true

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,027,537 others

yourinstagram p6 in zandvoort ! happy to see max on the podium for his home race. see you soon monza 🇮🇹

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username1 LEGEND

username2 p6 with that tractor feels like a podium finish fr

username3 give your seat to danny already

oscarpiastri Well done stinks 👊

↳ logansargeant Don’t praise her, her ego gets inflated

↳ username2 BEST TRIO ON THE GRID

↳ yourinstagram you’re both so jealous of me

redbullracing Keep pushing ! 💙

↳ username1 FIX HER FUCKING CAR

username4 p6 in a redbull? just hand the seat to someone more deserving

francolapinto Amazing 🙌🙌

↳ username2 franco is such a fannn

danielricciardo Proud of you 👌👌

↳ username1 haters want to create this beef between yn and danny for the seat but him adores her

maxverstappen1 Look she’s a nice teammate

↳ yourinstagram you adore me 😤

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

A knot forms in your stomach as you read the messages. Something about the tone doesn't sit right with you. You quickly head towards Logan's motorhome, your mind racing and your axiety creeping in.

When you arrive, Oscar is already there, leaning against the wall with a concerned expression. Logan sits on the couch, his shoulders slumped and his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Logan?" you ask softly, stepping into the room. "What's going on?"

He looks up at you, then at Oscar, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and resignation. "I… I'm not coming back for the next race," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. Deep down, a part of you had known this was coming. Rumors in the paddock spread faster than a Formula 1 car on a straight, and there had been whispers about Logan's seat for weeks. But you hadn't wanted to believe it. You'd pushed those thoughts aside, convinced that if you just ignored them, they wouldn't come true.

"What? What do you mean you're not coming back?"

Oscar pushes off the wall, his brow furrowed. "Mate, what happened?"

Logan takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Williams… they're replacing me. I'm out."

The room falls silent for a moment as the news sinks in. Then, all at once, you feel a surge of anger coursing through your veins.

"They can't do that!" you exclaim, your voice rising. "It's mid-season! You've been improving, you've been working so hard. How can they just… just throw you away like this?"

Logan shrugs, a bitter smile on his face. "Apparently, they can. And they have."

A wave of emotions come crashing to you. Anger at Williams for their decision, frustration at the ruthless nature of the sport, and an overwhelming sadness for Logan.

Oscar moves to sit beside Logan, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, mate. This is bullshit."

You start pacing the room, your anger building with each step. "Who are they replacing you with? Some pay driver? Some rookie who's never even touched an F1 car?"

"Franco Colapinto," Logan says quietly.

You stop in your tracks, whirling to face him. "Colapinto? The F2 kid? Are they out of their minds?"

Oscar tries to interject, his voice calm. "YN, maybe we should-"

But you're too fired up to listen. "No, Oscar! This is wrong. It's so wrong. Logan deserves better than this. He deserves a chance to prove himself. How is he supposed to do that if they don't even give him a full season?"

Logan looks up at you, a mix of gratitude and sadness in his eyes. "I appreciate you having my back, stinks. But it's done. There's nothing we can do about it now."

You shake your head. "No, there has to be something. They can't just replace you with some F2 kid like that. They're out of their minds."

"YN," Oscar cuts in firmly. "I know you're angry. We all are. But right now, we need to be here for Logan. This isn't about us or what we think is fair. It's about supporting our friend."

As Oscar's words sink in, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you. He's right, of course. This isn't about your anger or your sense of injustice. It's about Logan, your friend who's just had his dream ripped away from him.

The three of you have been racing together since you were kids, climbing through the ranks side by side. You've shared victories and defeats, laughter and tears. You've pushed each other to be better, to chase your dreams relentlessly. And now, one of you is being left behind.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "I just… I can't believe this is happening."

Logan manages a small smile. "It's okay, stinks. I appreciate your passion. It's one of the things I've always admired about you."

"Remember when we were in karting, and YN nearly got into a fist fight with that kid who tried to push Logan off the track?" Oscar says with a small smile, trying to light up the mood.

"How could I forget?" +

Logan chuckles softly, "She was like a tiny ball of fury."

You feel a smile tugging at your lips despite the situation. "Hey, nobody messes with my boys and gets away with it."

"And nothing's changed," Oscar adds, giving you a fond look. "We've always had each other's backs, through everything. This is not the exception."

Without another word, the three of you come together in a tight group hug, a physical representation of the bond you've shared for so many years.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 2,017,697 others

yourinstagram logan, you’re more than just a friend — you’re family. we’ve raced together since we were kids, dreaming of f1. to see that dream cut short for you is heartbreaking

your talent, dedication and kindness have always shone through. you deserved better than this mid-season swap. this sport can be cruel, but this feels especially unfair and i’m angry that my friend’s journey has been interrupted

but i’m also incredibly proud of you, logan. you have handled this with grace and strength and this isn’t the end for you — it’s just a detour. love you, stinks 🥲

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username1 IM SOBBING

username2 i still can’t believe this

username3 well hold your tears because you’re next

pierregasly Chin up, mate @/logansargeant you’re a champ 👊

alex_albon You will always be family @/logansargeant, It’s so sad to see you go

username4 that was cute now hand your seat to daniel or yuki

username5 THE FIRST PIC 🥺🥺 IM NOT OKAY

username6 oh she’s PISSED

username7 this is so unfair for logan

username8 colapinto has an enemy on track already and it’s her 😭

username9 the best trio will be incomplete now i’m not okay

username10 YOU NEXT BYE BYE

logansargeant Thank you for everything, go make me proud 💙

↳ username1 IM SOBBING AGAIN

liked by francolapinto, landonorris and 410,764 others

williamsracing Franco Colapinto to race for the remainder of the 2024 season.

username1 VAMOOOS

username2 hello?? hes cute

username3 OKAY I SEE

username4 good thing for the team, sargeant was just not it

alex_albon Welcome to the fam @/francolapinto 👊

username5 KIIING

username6 an f1 kid who's not even top 5 right now in the championship? risky move

yourinstagram not even giving logan a proper goodbye? yall suck

THIS COMMENT HAS BEEN DETELED

username1 OMFG YN WE SAW THAT

username2 YN 😭😭

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Monza is always a race to look forward no matter what team you drive for, but today, your excitement is just not there.

The paddock feels different without Logan's presence, you have always raced alongside him, and not seeing his face during a race weekend feels wrong.

As you make your way through the bustling crowd, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness and anger. Inside the Red Bull hospitality area, you find Max already settled in, scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you approach, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Hey, kiddo. How are you holding up?" he asks, gesturing for you to take a seat next to him.

"As well as can be expected, I guess," you slump into the chair, running a hand through your hair. "It just feels wrong, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," Max nods, his expression thoughtful, "How's Logan doing? Have you talked to him?"

The mention of Logan's name ignites that spark of anger inside you again. "He's… he's putting on a brave face, but I know he's hurting. This whole situation is such bullshit, Max. Williams made a huge mistake."

Max raises an eyebrow, sensing the storm brewing beneath your calm exterior. "You want to talk about it?"

That's all the invitation you need. The words start pouring out of you, your voice rising with each sentence.

"It's just so unfair! Logan was improving every race. He was working his ass off, putting in the hours, doing everything the team asked of him. And for what? To be tossed aside mid-season for some rookie?"

Max tries to interject, "Well, Colapinto has been pretty impressive in F2-"

But you're on a roll now, barely registering his words. "Impressive in F2? So what? F1 is a whole different ball game. Logan was just starting to get comfortable, to really show what he could do. And now they've brought in this Colapinto kid who's never even driven an F1 car, who's probably a paid driver who's just going to waste everyone's times. What kind of message does that send?"

You stand up, pacing back and forth as you continue your rant. "Williams is making a huge mistake. They're throwing away all the work Logan put in, all the data they've gathered. For what? A gamble on some unproven talent? And don't even get me started on how they handled it. No warning, no real explanation. Just 'Thanks for your service, now get out.' It's disrespectful, it's short-sighted, and it's everything that's wrong with this sport sometimes."

Max watches you, a mix of concern and surprise on his face. He's never seen you this fired up before. "YN, I understand you're upset, but-"

"No, Max!" you interrupt him, "You don't understand because you'll never have the fear of having your seat taken from you out of nowhere. You're Max Verstappen. You're safe. But for the rest of us… we're always one bad weekend away from losing everything."

Max's brow furrows, clearly taken aback by your statement. "YN, that's not true. I worked hard to get where I am-"

"I know you did," you interrupt again, your voice softer now. "I'm not saying you didn't. But you have to admit, your position is different. You're a world champion. You're untouchable. But for drivers like Logan, like me… we're always looking over our shoulders, always wondering if this race will be our last."

Max is silent for a moment, processing your words. "I guess you're right, I've been in a secure position for so long, I forgot what it's like to worry about your seat." He pauses, then adds, "But you know, you're in a unique position too. You're the only woman driving a Formula 1 car. That's pretty special. You should feel-"

You cut him off, your frustration flaring up again. "Exactly! I'm the only woman here, Max. Do you have any idea how much more pressure that puts on me? Every move I make is scrutinized. Every-"

Before you can continue, you spot Franco Colapinto walking past the Red Bull area, chatting animatedly with his new race engineer. The sight of him in Williams colors sends another wave of resentment through you, and you turn away abruptly.

"I need some air," you mutter, storming out of the hospitality area, leaving a bewildered Max in your wake.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The sun beats down as you stand next to Oscar on the flatbed truck, waiting for the drivers' parade to begin. The usual buzz of excitement surrounding Monza feels muted to you, overshadowed still by Logan's absence and the presence of his replacement.

"Oi, what's with the long face?" Oscar nudges you playfully with his elbow. "You look like someone stole your last Tim Tam."

"Oh shut up, you dork," you can't help but crack a small smile, "As if I'd ever let anyone near my precious Tim Tams."

"Too right," Oscar grins. "But seriously, how are you holding up?"

You shrug, trying to keep your expression neutral for the cameras. "Oh, you know, just peachy. Nothing like a bit of midseason drama to spice things up, right?"

"Always the optimist, aren't you?" Oscar rolls his eyes, "Come on, I bet you twenty quid you can't name all the Italian F1 circuits without googling."

"You're on, Piastri," you say, grateful for the distraction. "Monza, Imola, Mugello…"

As you're racking your brain for more, you notice Franco Colapinto approaching. Your playful mood evaporates instantly.

Franco's eyes widen as he gets closer, clearly starstruck. "Uh, hi," he says nervously. "I'm Franco. I just wanted to introduce myself."

Oscar, ever the diplomat, smiles and extends his hand. "Hey mate, welcome to F1. I'm Oscar."

Franco shakes his hand before turning to you, his expression one of barely contained awe. "And you're YN. I… I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. You're such an inspiration. The way you've broken barriers in this sport, it's incredible. I've followed your career since your F3 days and-"

You cut him off, your voice cool. "Thanks. Welcome to the grid."

Franco's smile falters, but he presses on. "I just wanted to say how much I admire what you've accomplished. You've paved the way for so many young drivers, especially women in motorsport. It's an honor to be racing alongside you."

You nod stiffly. "Thanks," you repeat, your tone making it clear that you're not interested in continuing the conversation.

An awkward silence falls over the group. Oscar, sensing the tension, tries to smooth things over. "So, Franco, how are you finding the step up to F1 so far?"

As Franco turns to answer Oscar, you take the opportunity to step away, moving to the other side of the truck. You can feel Oscar's gaze following you, but you can't bring yourself to engage in small talk with Logan's replacement, no matter how well-intentioned he might be.

As you're standing alone, Alex approaches, a sympathetic smile on his face. "Hey, mind if I join you?"

You shrug. "Free country, Albon. Or free truck, I guess."

Alex chuckles softly. "How are you doing? I know this can't be easy for you."

You sigh, your guard dropping slightly with Alex. "It's… complicated. I'm angry for Logan, but I know it's not Franco's fault. It's just…"

"It's the reality of the sport we're in," Alex finishes for you. "Trust me, I get it. Been there, done that, got the Red Bull rejection t-shirt."

Your stomach twists at the mention of that, suddenly remembering the endless conversations and warnings from your team. And how despite having a contract for next season, there's threats about your seat being take away after every race weekend. But you push the thought away.

"Always the comedian, aren't you?"

"Someone's got to keep the mood light around here," Alex grins. "But seriously, I know it's tough. Franco's a good kid, though. He's been working really hard, trying to learn as much as he can."

You nod, not quite ready to let go of your resentment but appreciating Alex's perspective. "How's he settling in?"

"As well as can be expected," Alex says. "He's got a lot to learn, but he's eager. It's a big step up from F2, but he's handling the pressure well so far."

You're about to respond when the parade starts moving. Alex gives you a supportive pat on the shoulder before moving back to his spot. As the truck rolls down the straight, the cheers of the Tifosi wash over you. You lift your hand to wave, a mix of emotions swirling inside you that go beyond just Logan's replacement.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,638,578 others

yourinstagram p8. it is what it is. ciao monza 👋

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username1 you will always be the moment

username2 FIX THE FUCKING CAR ALREADY

username3 ouu shes DONEEE

username4 most undeserved seat on the grid i swear

username5 anyway RICBULL IS COMING

francolapinto Such a pleasure to race alongside you!

↳ username1 franco respects and admires her so much i love it

↳ username2 im pretty sure yn hates him tho

username6 the constructors championship is gone thanks to her

logansargeant Chin up, love you 💙

↳ username2 i miss them so much

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 12,739 others

f1gossip YN arriving at Red Bull HQ in Milton Keynes

Tensions running high as rumors swirl about potential driver shake-ups. Sources say YN’s recent performance has bosses considering options

Is the Honey Badger eyeing a comeback or could young Liam Lawson be making the leap to F1? 🤔

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username1 bro...

username2 they better fix her car NOW

username3 RICBULL RICBULL

username4 honestly the best thing for the team would be her getting replaced

username5 YAAAS SHE'S OUT FINALLY

username6 oscar is the only 2023 rookie who actually puts in the work

username7 some people need to start putting some respect on yn's name bc yall keep forgetting she was third in the championship and got her first win during her ROOKIE SEASON and the reason she's struggling rn is bc redbull is not getting their shit together

↳ username1 right??? they're just saying shit

↳ username4 you said it yourself, she has a championship winning car and she's not delivering. she should be out

username8 YN GET BEHIND ME

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,638,538 others

yourinstagram great quali, we should have some fun tomorrow 😚

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username1 SLAYYY

username2 p4 after all the nonsense surrounding her seat? feels right

username3 THE QUEEN OF BAKU FOR REAL

lilyzneimer my favorite supergirl 💙

username4 she got lucky

username5 don't care, we still want danny or liam in that seat

username6 enjoy the race bc it might be your last

username7 watch her on that podium tomorrow

logansargeant Super proud always

↳ username2 LOGAN WE MISSS YOUUUU

francolapinto 🤩

liked by username1, logansargeant and 270,847 others

redbullracing Solid race and a bunch of points for the team 👊

Result 🏁PIA, LEC, YN P3, NOR, Max P5, ALO, ALB, COL, HAM, BEA

#F1 #RedBullRacing #AzerbaijanGP

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username1 SO DAMN TRUE

username2 yn back on the podium FINALLY

username3 yn saw the rumors about her seat and decided to shut them up

username4 SHES BEATING MAX FINALLY

username5 did they finally fix the car

username6 i don't want anyone commenting on her seat anymore

username7 i knew she got into that care absolutely PISSED

username8 QUEEN OF BAKU

liked by oscarpiastri, francolapinto and 1,764,933 others

yourinstagram was that entertaining? 😙 so happy to be on the podium for osco's second win, i love you so muuuch you diva

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username1 LEGEND

username2 she's so smug

username3 TELL THEM QUEEEN

landonorris The third pic is definitely your best @/oscarpiastri

↳ yourinstagram IKR

↳ username1 I LOVE THEM

logansargeant Congrats to both of you @/oscarpiastri @/yourinstagram I'm always proud of everything you achieve ❤️

↳ username2 logan should be there too i'm sad now

↳ oscarpiastri Love you mate

↳ yourinstagram this paddock will never be the same without you

maxvertsappen1 🙌🙌 So proud of you little sister

oscarpiastri Love you stinks

francolapinto Congrats! Always an honor to race alongside you

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The drivers' briefing has just concluded, and you find yourself lingering in the room, chatting with your friends.

"I swear, I almost peed my pants at that press conference!," Lando says, his eyes widening as he recalls, "When Max and YN just sat there in silence, staring down the journalists… I thought I was going to lose it!"

Pierre chuckles, giving you a knowing look. "I knew YN was the mastermind behind that. It has her written all over it."

"Well, someone had to make a point about these ridiculous penalties," you can't help but grin.

The group's laughter is interrupted as Franco approaches, a tentative smile on his face. "Hey guys, mind if I join?"

The others welcome him warmly, and you feel a knot forming in your stomach. You force a tight smile, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"Franco, mate!" George exclaims, patting him on the back. "That was some impressive driving in practice. You're settling in well."

Alex nods in agreement. "Yeah, you're really holding your own out there. Williams made a good choice."

You feel your jaw clench at Alex's words, but you remain silent, watching as Franco's face lights up with pride and gratitude.

"Thanks, guys," Franco says, his voice humble. "I still have a lot to learn, but I'm giving it my all."

"Well, it's paying off," Lando chimes in, "Points in just your second race? You're pushing that Williams harder than we've seen in a while."

As the conversation continues, with each driver offering praise and encouragement to Franco, you feel your frustration and anger building.

The memory of Logan's disappointment and unfairness of it all, mixed with the ever present threat of you seat having the same fate, bubbles up inside you until you can't contain it anymore.

"And what about Logan?" you snap, your voice cutting through the friendly chatter like a knife. The group falls silent, all eyes turning to you in surprise. Franco's smile fades, replaced by a look of discomfort and guilt.

"YN…" Oscar starts, his tone cautionary.

But you're too fired up to stop now. "No, seriously. Everyone's so quick to praise him, but what about Logan? He was improving every race, working his ass off, and for what? To be tossed aside mid-season?"

The atmosphere in the room becomes tense. George and Alex exchange uncomfortable glances, while Pierre shifts uneasily.

Franco, looking distressed, speaks up. "I never meant for Logan to lose his seat. I just took the opportunity when it was offered to me. Any driver would have done the same."

"Oh, so that makes it okay?" his words only fuel your anger. "You just 'took the opportunity'? Do you have any idea how hard Logan worked for that seat? How much he sacrificed?"

"YN, that's enough," Oscar says firmly, placing a hand on your arm.

But you shrug him off, your eyes blazing as you face Franco. "You waltz in here, taking a seat you didn't earn, and everyone's falling over themselves to congratulate you. It's not right. It's not fair."

The room falls into a shocked silence. Franco looks like he's been slapped, his earlier excitement completely deflated. The other drivers are staring at you with a mix of surprise and disapproval.

It's George who finally breaks the tension. "YN, I think we all understand you're upset about Logan. We all are. But this isn't Franco's fault. He's just trying to make the most of his chance, like any of us would."

You feel a flush of shame creeping up your neck, but your anger is still simmering. "You don't understand," you mutter, but the fight has gone out of your voice.

Franco, looking genuinely distressed, takes a step towards you. "I'm sorry about what happened to Logan. I really am. I have nothing but respect for him, and for you. I never wanted to cause any problems."

His sincerity catches you off guard, and for a moment, you see not the driver who replaced your friend, but a young, talented kid trying to navigate a difficult situation. However, your anger and frustration gets the best of you.

"Whatever," you mumble, pushing past the group and out of the room, leaving a stunned silence as you disappear.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 709,639 others

francolapinto still buzzing from singapore 🇸🇬growing up watching Lewis battle in marina bay and now getting to race wheel to wheel with him... surreal doesn't even begin to cover it 🤯 and that fight with YN for position was proper racing - those last few laps were intense! thank you to the team for giving me a car that could fight at the front. vamos 💪

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username1 he’s an f1 driver now but he’ll always be a fanboy

lewishamilton Good racing kid, you've got a bright future ahead 👊🏾

williamsracing Our boy! 💙

username3 Did anyone else notice how aggressive YN was when overtaking Franco? Almost pushed him into the wall...

↳ username1 fr she looked like she wanted to crash him

↳ username4 they were racing for position, that's what racing drivers do 🙄

username5 the way he always mentions YN in his posts but she never acknowledges him 👀

username6 that move from YN was unnecessarily aggressive, could've ended badly

landonorris Great drive mate!

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 2,370,739 others

f1 BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo to leave RB, the team have announced. Liam Lawson will race in place of Ricciardo for the remaining six races of the season for the team.

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username1 DANNY NOOOO

username2 this sucks man

danielricciardo Been a hell of a ride! Thank you RB family ❤️

maxverstappen1 Going to miss you mate!

username3 Wrong driver leaving... YN should be the one out

↳ username1 exactly! she's been underperforming all season

yourinstagram always grateful for everything you taught me DR. more than a driver - you've been a big brother, mentor, and friend since day one. going to miss our pre-race dance parties 🥺🤍

↳ username3 now give him your seat

↳ username1 it's no annoying to see that drivers like her have an undeserved contract extension and talented drivers get left out

↳ danielricciardo Love you kiddo! Make me proud

username5 Gutted to see Danny Ric go 💔

landonorris Won't be the same without you mate!

username7 @/yourinstagram Maybe focus more on racing than dancing 🙄

↳ username8 she's literally P5 in the championship, shut up

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

As you step off the plane in Florida, the warm air envelops you, a stark contrast to the crisp autumn weather you left behind in Europe. Your heart lightens as you spot Logan waiting for you, his familiar grin a welcome sight after weeks of tension and stress. You missed your best friend so much.

You rush towards him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. "I missed you so much," you say, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "That paddock sucks without you."

Logan chuckles, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm. "I missed you too, stinks." He pulls back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now, let's grab a beer since you're out of race cars for a while."

You nod eagerly, letting him lead the way. He drives you to a nearby bar, one you've learned over the years of knowing him was the one he used to go to during his teenage years. The casual atmosphere is a refreshing change from the high-pressure environment of the paddock. As you settle into a booth with cold beers in hand, you feel some of the tension from the past few months start to melt away.

"So, how's life outside the F1 bubble?" you ask, taking a sip of beer.

Logan grins, leaning back in his seat. "It's… different. But not all bad. Actually, I've got some news." He pauses for dramatic effect. "I've been in talks with a few IndyCar teams."

Your eyes widen with excitement. "Logan, that's fantastic! Tell me everything!"

For the next hour, Logan animatedly describes his meetings with IndyCar team principals, the tracks he's excited to race on, and the new challenges he's looking forward to. You listen intently, genuinely happy for your friend's potential new chapter.

"It's not F1," Logan admits, "but it's a hell of a racing series. And who knows? Maybe it'll lead me back to F1 someday."

"I have no doubt," you assure him, raising your bottle in a toast. "To new beginnings!"

As the conversation flows, you find yourself relaxing more than you have in months. You chat about mutual friends, swap funny stories from your junior racing days, and discuss the latest paddock gossip.

Eventually, Logan's expression turns a bit more serious. "So, Oscar's been keeping me updated on what's been going on in F1. Sounds like things have been… tense with Franco."

You feel your mood shift at the mention of Franco's name. "Yeah, you could say that," you mutter, taking a long swig of your beer.

Logan leans forward, his voice gentle but firm. "YN, I know you're upset on my behalf, but you can't keep this grudge going forever. Franco's just a kid trying to make his way in the sport, like we all were not too long ago."

"I know, I know. It's just," you sigh heavily, "Every time I see him in the garage, in your overalls, talking to your engineers… it feels wrong, Logan. Like he's stolen something that belongs to you."

"But he didn't steal anything," Logan counters. "The team made a decision. It sucks for me, yeah, but that's not on Franco. He just took an opportunity that was offered to him. Can you honestly say you wouldn't have done the same in his position?"

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. Logan has a point, and you know it.

"Look," Logan continues, "I've had some time to process all this, and I've come to terms with it. It's a cutthroat sport, YN. We all know that. Franco's not the villain here."

"But the way it happened," you protest, "mid-season, with no warning. It wasn't fair to you."

"Fair doesn't always come into it in F1. It just happens," Logan shrugs, "Besides," he adds with a hint of a smile, "I hear he's doing a decent job. The kid's got talent."

"He's alright," you grudgingly admit. "But he's not you."

Logan laughs. "No one's me, stinks. I'm one of a kind."

You can't help but crack a smile at that. "True enough."

"So," Logan says, his tone turning serious again, "can you promise me you'll try to ease up on Franco? Give him a fair shot? For me?"

You sigh deeply, considering his words. "I'll try," you finally concede. "But I'm not promising to be his best friend or anything."

"That's all I ask," Logan says, looking relieved. "Now, is this just about Franco replacing me, or is there something else going on? You seem… I don't know, more on edge than usual."

For a moment, you consider telling him about the talks with Red Bull, about the uncertainty surrounding your own seat. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but something holds you back. Maybe it's not wanting to burden Logan with your problems, or maybe it's not being ready to voice your fears out loud.

"No, nothing else," you lie, forcing a smile. "Just the usual F1 stress, you know how it is."

Logan nods, though he doesn't look entirely convinced. "Well, if there ever is anything, you know you can talk to me, right? Even if I'm not in the paddock anymore."

"I know," you say, feeling a pang of guilt. "Thanks, Logan. Really."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 1,289,673 others

yourinstagram florida !!! is one hell of a drug

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username1 AHHH she visited logan

logansargeant Next time we're doing the gator tour 🐊

↳ username2 i love them sm

oscarpiastri No invite for your favourite Aussie? Rude

↳ username2 we need the iconic trio together again

username3 they've been friends since forever, love how they support each other

username4 Logan and YN's friendship >>>>>

username5 Why is she on holiday when she should be working on her driving?

username6 the way logan always has her back 🥺

username7 surely there are better uses of time with 4 races left and her seat under threat?

francolapinto Amazing 🙌

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You arrive at the Red Bull hospitality area in Austin, the excitement of being back after the break palpable in the air. As you walk in, you spot Max lounging on one of the sofas, scrolling through his phone.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Max grins, looking up from his device. "Did you get lost in the Texas wilderness?"

You roll your eyes playfully, dropping your bag on a nearby chair. "Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness. Did I keep you waiting? I was busy signing autographs for all my adoring fans. You know how it is… oh wait, you don't."

"Ouch, that hurt," Max clutches his chest in mock pain, "And here I was, about to show you something interesting, but now I'm not so sure you deserve it."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. The banter with Max always helps you relax before a race weekend, and you've missed this during the break. "Oh come on, spill it, Verstappen. You know you want to. Don't make me steal your phone."

Max chuckles and pats the seat next to him. "Alright, alright. Sit down before you hurt yourself trying to reach my phone."

As you sit down, he pulls up a video on his phone. "Check this out. It's an interview with your biggest fan."

It's an interview with Franco. Your initial instinct is to look away, a mix of guilt and stubbornness rising in your chest. But something in Max's expression makes you watch.

"Lewis Hamilton and YN are my biggest idols in F1," Franco is saying, his face earnest. "The way YN races, her dedication and skill, it's truly inspiring. She's broken so many barriers and shown that talent knows no gender. I feel honored just to be on the same grid as her."

As the interview continues, Franco heaps more praise on you, his admiration clear in every word. You feel a twinge of guilt, remembering how cold you've been towards him. The genuine respect in his voice makes you uncomfortable, forcing you to confront your own prejudices.

"Her overtake on Leclerc in Interlagos last year? That was pure brilliance," Franco continues. "I've watched that move countless times, trying to learn from it. YN's not just a great driver, she's changing the face of the sport. I hope one day I can race wheel-to-wheel with her and show her the respect she deserves on track."

Max turns off the video and looks at you expectantly. "I think you owe someone an apology," he says, his tone gentle but firm.

You nod slowly, the realization sinking in. A wave of shame washes over you as you remember your cold behavior towards Franco. "I think I do," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, we all make mistakes. What matters is how we fix them. Franco's a good kid, and he really looks up to you. Maybe it's time to give him a chance?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "I actually talked to Logan last week," you confess, watching Max's eyebrows rise in surprise. "He's doing well, actually - focusing on IndyCar now. But we talked a lot about… everything."

"Yeah?" Max shifts in his seat, clearly intrigued. It's not often you open up about these things.

"He basically told me I needed to stop fighting battles that weren't mine to fight. Said he appreciates me having his back, but Franco isn't the enemy here. He's just chasing his dream, like we all did. Logan said he remembers how it felt, getting his first chance - we all do."

Max nods thoughtfully. "Logan's right, you know. We've all been there at some point - getting an opportunity because someone else lost theirs. It's just how F1 works sometimes."

"I know," you admit, standing up. "And I've been unfair to Franco. He's actually doing a really good job with Williams, fighting in the midfield with a car that's not the easiest to drive. And here I am, making him feel unwelcome when I should be supporting talent. Some role model I am, right?"

"So what are you going to do about it?" Max asks, though his smile suggests he already knows.

You spot Franco heading towards the Williams hospitality area. "I'm going to make it right."

Walking over to Williams, you feel your heart pounding a little faster with each step. You find Franco sitting at one of the tables, going through data on his laptop with his race engineer.

"Franco?" you call out. "Could I steal you for a moment?"

He looks up, surprise evident on his face. "YN? Hi… yeah, of course." He glances at his engineer, who nods and excuses himself.

"Mind if I sit?" you ask, gesturing to the empty chair. When he nods, you take a deep breath. "I owe you an apology. A proper one."

Franco starts to shake his head, but you hold up a hand. "Please, let me finish. I've been unfair to you, and it wasn't right. I let my loyalty to Logan blind me to the fact that you're just a talented driver making the most of your opportunity. I've been cold, sometimes even hostile, and you didn't deserve any of that."

"I… thank you," Franco says quietly. "That means a lot. I want you to know, I reached out to Logan when-"

"I know," you interrupt gently. "He told me. That's partly why I'm here. You showed real class doing that, Franco. And you're doing a great job with the car. That P8 in Baku? That was proper racing."

A genuine smile breaks across his face. "Coming from you, that really means a lot. You know, I've watched your races since I was in F3. The way you fought through all the doubters, proved everyone wrong… you're really an inspiration."

You feel your throat tighten unexpectedly. "I had no idea."

"That's why your opinion means so much," Franco admits, fiddling with his water bottle. "When you seemed disappointed in me being here… it hurt, you know?"

"I'm sorry," you say again, meaning it more than ever. "How about we start fresh? Maybe you can talk me through that overtake in Baku - I noticed you used a similar line to what I did in Interlagos last year."

Franco's eyes light up. "You caught that? I actually studied your move while preparing for the race! The way you positioned the car on entry…"

You spend the next twenty minutes discussing racing lines and overtaking techniques, the earlier tension completely dissolved. Franco's enthusiasm is infectious, reminding you of your own early days in F1.

When you finally walk back to Max, you feel lighter than you have in months. He greets you with a knowing smile. "Feel better?"

"Much better," you admit. "Sometimes you need a kick in the right direction So thank you, I needed that wake-up call."

"Anytime," he smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulders, "Can't have my teammate being the paddock villain, can I? That's my job."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1 and 1,667,459 others

yourinstagram rookies keeping us on our toes 😤 good battles today @/francolapinto

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username1 THIS IS LEGENDARY

username3 franco is going to piss his pants

williamsracing Our rookie giving the Red Bull a run for their money 💙

username4 she shouldn’t be acknowledging that a rookie in a williams is making it hard for her… embarrasing

username5 the start of YN and Franco's friendship? 👀

username7 the tension between these two was getting old, glad they're friends now

username8 HANDLE YOUR SEAT

username8 MY DUO 😭❤️

francolapinto Next time I won’t make it easy for you!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The private jet hums quietly through the night sky towards Mexico City. Most of the other drivers are asleep, exhausted from the intense Austin weekend. You find yourself unable to sleep, your mind still racing from the events of the day. Glancing around the dimly lit cabin, you notice Franco is also awake, absently flipping through a magazine.

Catching your eye, he gives you a warm smile and moves to the empty seat across from you. "Can't sleep either?"

"Too much adrenaline still," you admit, adjusting your position to face him better. "Great drive today, by the way. That point was well-deserved."

Franco's face lights up at the compliment. "Thanks! Though it's nothing compared to your battle with Lando. I was watching it from behind and thought 'there's no way she's going to make that stick' but then you just… did. It was incredible."

You laugh softly, careful not to wake the others. "There was a moment there where I wasn't sure either. But sometimes you just have to go for it, you know?"

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Franco grins. "Like that time in F3 when I tried to go around the outside at Spa and ended up practically in another timezone."

"Please tell me there's video of that," you snicker.

"Unfortunately for my dignity, yes. I think my engineer still uses it as an example of what not to do."

The conversation flows naturally, jumping from racing stories to childhood memories. You find yourself genuinely enjoying his company, something that would have seemed impossible just a few weeks ago.

"So what made you want to be a racing driver?" you ask, genuinely curious.

As Franco launches into how he found his passion for the sport, you find yourself really looking at him properly for the first time. The soft cabin lighting catches the angles of his face, and you notice details you'd overlooked before. His eyes are warm with flecks of gold, crinkling slightly at the corners when he smiles. There's a small scar above his right eyebrow, barely noticeable unless you're paying attention. His dark hair is slightly disheveled from the long race day, a few strands falling across his forehead.

You catch yourself thinking how handsome he actually is, in that classic way. His animated expressions as he talks about racing make him even more attractive, his passion for the sport evident in every gesture.

"...and that's when I knew I wanted to do this forever," he finishes, then looks slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I tend to get carried away when talking about racing."

"No, don't apologize," you say quickly. "It's refreshing to see that kind of enthusiasm. Some of the guys get so jaded after a while."

Franco's smile turns a bit shy. "Speaking of enthusiasm, I'm really excited about racing in Mexico this weekend. It's one of my favorite cities - the atmosphere is just incredible."

"The fans are amazing there," you agree. "Though I still haven't found a really good place to eat in Mexico City. The hotel restaurant gets old pretty quickly."

Franco's eyes light up. "Oh, you have to let me help with that! I know a couple of amazing restaurants in the city. There's this incredible place that serves the best traditional dishes you've ever tasted, and another one in that does contemporary Mexican cuisine that would blow your mind."

You find yourself intrigued, both by the suggestion and the eager way he's describing it. "That sounds way better than room service."

"We could..." he hesitates for a moment, then continues with determination, "we could go together, if you'd like? After Thursday's media duties maybe? I'd love to show you my favorite spots."

There's something endearing about the way he's trying to sound casual while clearly being nervous about asking. You feel a flutter in your stomach that you definitely weren't expecting.

"You know what? That sounds great," you say, surprised by how much you mean it. "It's about time I experienced proper Mexican cuisine."

Franco's face breaks into a brilliant smile. "Perfect! I'll make a reservation for Thursday evening then. Trust me, you won't regret it."

As the conversation continues, you can't help but notice how natural it feels now, how easily you're laughing at his jokes and sharing stories. It's hard to believe this is the same person you were avoiding just a few weeks ago.

As other drivers start stirring from their sleep, Franco returns to his original seat, but not before confirming your dinner plans one more time.

Watching him walk away, you find yourself looking forward to Thursday evening more than you probably should. It's just dinner with a colleague, you tell yourself, even as you catch yourself smiling at the thought of it.

"Just dinner," you whisper to yourself, but somehow, you're not entirely convinced.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

yourinstagram has added to their close friends stories

replies:

georgerussell63 So that was all the giggling I heard during the flight

oscarpiastri I’m so telling Logan

maxverstappen1 Can I say “I told you so” now?

francolapinto close friends privileges already? wow

↳ yourinstagram don’t push it colapinto

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The hotel lobby is relatively quiet as you wait for Franco, having agreed to meet there before heading to the restaurant. You've opted for casual - a simple black dress that makes you feel confident but not overdressed.

"Ready to have your mind blown by the best food in Mexico City?" Franco's voice makes you turn. He's wearing dark jeans and a well-fitted navy button-down, and you try not to notice how good he looks.

"Big claims require big proof," you tease, falling into step beside him.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Lando's familiar accent cuts through the lobby. He's just coming in from what looks like a gym session, and his surprised smirk makes you want to roll your eyes. "Interesting dinner plans?"

"Just showing YN the local cuisine," Franco says smoothly, though you notice his ears turning slightly pink.

"Right, right," Lando drawls, his eyes dancing with amusement. "The local cuisine. In your nice shirt. At that fancy place you've been talking about for weeks-"

"Goodbye, Lando," you cut him off, grabbing Franco's arm and steering him toward the exit, trying to ignore Lando's knowing chuckle behind you. You knew it was a matter of time before the entire grid finds out you went out with Franco.

The restaurant is everything Franco promised and more. The conversation flows easily between you, and you find yourself charmed by the way he seamlessly switches between Spanish and English while ordering, the way he leans in slightly when you're talking, the way his hand occasionally brushes yours across the table.

"No way," you laugh, taking another sip of wine. "You did not challenge your friend to a dance-off."

"I absolutely did," Franco grins. "And I won, by the way. Though there might have been some tequila involved."

"I would pay good money to see that."

"Play your cards right," he says with a playful wink, "and maybe you'll get a private demonstration."

The flirtatious comment catches you off guard, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. Franco seems pleased with this reaction, his confidence growing throughout the evening.

The evening continues, warm and comfortable. Franco insists on ordering dessert - "You haven't lived until you've tried their churros con chocolate" - and you find yourself sharing stories between bites of perfectly crispy churros.

"So," Franco says, wiping chocolate from his lip with a napkin, "you, Oscar, and Logan - that's quite the trio. How did that happen?"

You laugh, fondly remembering those early days. "We practically grew up together in karting. I was this tiny kid trying to prove myself, Oscar was already sassy even at eight years old, and Logan… well, Logan was Logan."

"Let me guess - immediate chaos?" Franco grins.

"Oh, absolutely. We used to drive our parents and coaches crazy. These three kids who wouldn't stop racing each other even after practice was over." You smile at the memory. "We've been inseparable ever since. Though now Logan's living his best life in Florida."

Franco's eyes soften. "You really miss having him in the paddock, don't you?"

"Yeah," you admit quietly. "I do. But he's happy, and that's what matters. Plus, he texts me stupid memes at least twenty times a day, so it's like he never left."

After asking for the bill — one that Franco didn't let you pay no matter how much you insisted — you decided to walk back to the hotel. You were aware that his hand was close to yours as you walked side by side, almost brushing your fingers, but you didn't dare to take that step, and neither did he.

You reach the hotel, but instead of heading straight for the elevators, Franco suggests taking the scenic route through the garden. The night is too nice to end just yet.

"I have to say," he remarks as you walk, "you look beautiful tonight. That dress is…" he makes an exaggerated chef's kiss gesture, making you laugh.

"Smooth, Colapinto. Very smooth."

"I try," he winks, and you roll your eyes but can't hide your smile.

The walk to your room comes too quickly. Outside your door, Franco turns to you with a soft smile.

"Thank you for tonight," he says. "It was… nice. Really nice."

"It was," you agree, finding yourself meaning it completely. "Thank you for showing me your favorite spot."

There's a moment where you both just look at each other, the air charged with something unspoken. Franco takes a small step closer, then seems to think better of it.

"Goodnight, YN," he says softly, squeezing your hand once before letting go.

"Goodnight, Franco," you reply, watching him head down the hallway.

As you close the door behind you, you lean against it, smiling to yourself. You can already hear Max's smug "I told you so" tomorrow, but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 14,892 users

f1gossip🚨 Franco Colapinto and YN spotted having dinner together in Mexico City. They spent over two hours at the restaurant according to witnesses.

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username2 This is getting interesting... 👀

username3 STOP I'M CRYING 😭❤️

username4 they're just friends guys, calm down

username4 the way he makes her laugh though!!!

username5 watch how they'll deny everything tomorrow

username6 MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS

username8 this has to be more than just friendship...

username10 I MANIFESTED THIS

username12 focus on racing instead of dating maybe?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Brazilian rain hammers down relentlessly on the Interlagos circuit. It's barely 6 AM, but the paddock is already buzzing with nervous energy for the early sprint qualifying. You stifle a yawn as you check your phone for what must be the hundredth time that morning. Another message from Franco pops up - a picture of himself looking comically miserable in the rain with the caption "Maybe if we all pretend we didn't see the rain, they'll cancel quali?"

The past week has been unexpected in the best way possible. After that dinner in Mexico, something shifted. What started as sharing breakfast in the hotel turned into spending every free moment together. During the long flight to São Paulo, George had dramatically sighed and switched seats with Franco, muttering something about "not being able to take the longing looks across the plane anymore."

"Someone's cheerful for 6 AM," Max comments, walking into the garage as you quickly type a response to Franco. "Let me guess - Argetinian company keeping you entertained?"

You try to hide your smile but fail miserably. "Shut up and focus on qualifying."

"Oh, I'm focused," he grins. "Unlike someone who keeps looking at their phone every two minutes."

"I'm just-"

"YN," Max interrupts, counting off on his fingers, "he waited outside our debrief yesterday just to walk you to dinner. He somehow always knows your coffee order. And don't think I didn't notice him giving you his jacket yesterday."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "We're just friends."

"Right," Max smirks. "Friends. Like how Charles and I are 'just friends' when we're trying to punt each other off track."

"Shut up, as if you weren't secretly in love with each other."

A few hours later, as you prepare for the drivers' parade, Oscar sidles up next to you with his trademark grin.

"Well, well, if it isn't the stranger," he says dramatically. "Remember me? One of your best friends? Though I suppose you wouldn't know, being attached at the hip with a certain Williams driver these days."

You roll your eyes, but there's no heat in it. "Miss me that much, Piastri?"

"Just saying, used to be we'd get coffee before parade, now it's all 'Sorry Oscar, Franco already got me coffee,'" he mimics your voice terribly.

You're about to retort when Franco appears, and Oscar's grin widens. "And that's my cue. Have fun, kids!" He winks before sauntering off.

"Ignore him," you say when you notice a small smile in Franco's face, "He's the perpetual pain in my ass."

"He's okay," Franco says, standing closer to you. You're trying to get your hair in order when you realize something's missing.

"Shit," you mutter, patting your pockets. "I forgot my hair tie."

"You always braid it before races, right?"

"Yeah," you sigh, still searching. "I'm stupidly superstitious about it. Haven't gotten into the car without a perfect braid since F3."

"Here," Franco pulls a hair tie from his wrist. At your surprised look, he shrugs. "I started carrying one after Mexico. Just in case," he shrugs, as if he was saying the most obvious thing ever, "Turn around."

"You know how to braid hair?"

"Sisters, remember? I'm practically a professional." His fingers are gentle as they work through your hair. "Besides, can't have you breaking your streak because of a missing hair tie."

You're acutely aware of the other drivers watching with varying degrees of amusement. Lewis gives you a knowing wink as he passes, while Charles not-so-subtly elbows Oscar and gestures toward you two.

"There," he says finally, securing the end with your hair tie. "Perfect braid for perfect racing."

You reach back to feel it - it is indeed perfect. When you turn to thank him, you find him much closer than expected, his eyes soft as they meet yours.

"Show off," you manage to say, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing.

"Only for you," he replies with a wink, and you hear what sounds suspiciously like Alex whispering "Just kiss already" to George.

The moment is broken by the announcement for drivers to take their places on the parade truck. As you climb aboard, you catch Oscar making exaggerated swooning gestures at you, while Max simply mouths "Just friends?" with a knowing smirk.

Franco takes his place beside you on the truck, close enough that your shoulders touch, and somehow you find you don't really care who's watching.

"Nice braid, by the way," Charles calls out teasingly from behind you. "Franco, think you could do mine next time?"

"Get your own hair stylist, Leclerc," you call back, and Franco's laugh next to you makes everything - the bad qualifying, the rain, the teasing - worth it.

The truck starts moving, and Franco's hand finds yours, hidden from view between you. You intertwine your fingers with his, and neither of you let go for the entire parade.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 21,765 others

f1_insider🚨 Christian Horner spotted leaving Williams hospitality after a 2-hour meeting in Brazil. This comes amid increasing speculation about driver changes for 2025.

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username1 They're not even trying to be subtle anymore…

username2 leave YN alone challenge

username3 Franco to Red Bull confirmed? 👀

username5 WAIT WHAT

username7 the timing of this… right before quali 😬

username8 everyone acting surprised like this hasn't been brewing for weeks username11 They're trying to destabilize her before the race

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 2,093,032 others

yourinstagram brazil never disappoints. p15 ➡️ p2. proud of this one.

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username1 IM STILL CRYING

username2 MIC DROP

maxverstappen1 Proper racing today 💪🏻 That defense in the last 10 laps 🔥Love you kiddo, couldn't ask for a better teammate

↳ username1 max said SHE'S NOT GOING ANYWHERE

danielricciardo THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! That's my girl!

username3 EVERYONE'S PRIDE AND JOY

username4 she got lucky and still no win this season

landonorris Absolute monster in the wet

logansargeant THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND

username5 this is why she deserves that seat

username6 where are all the haters now? 🤫

username7 that battle through the midfield was masterclass

username8 Silencing critics in the best way possible

liked by username1, username2 and 14,088 others

f1gossip YN's radio messages during Franco's crash show a different side to their "rivalry." Listen to how her voice changes when she finds out it's him. Sometimes the real feelings come through in moments like these.

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username2 this doesn't sound like someone who "hates" him

username3 top I'm crying 😭

username4 "tell me he's okay" broke me

username6 forget the rivalry narrative, that's genuine concern

username7 MY DRIVERS STOOOOP

username8 this is the most emotion we've heard from her all season

username9 notice how she's been cold towards him for weeks but the second he's in danger…

username10 SOMETHING SHIFTED

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The easy banter has become your normal over the past week. Ever since Brazil, where you fought your way from P15 to P2 in treacherous conditions, something has shifted between you. The walls you'd carefully maintained started crumbling during that rain-soaked weekend.

Your phone buzzes again - this time it's Christian Horner requesting a meeting. Your stomach tightens instinctively. These meetings have become more frequent throughout the season, always with subtle undertones about your future with the team.

Franco: "Meeting with James in 10. Wish me luck not falling asleep in the sim debrief. Call you after?"

You: "Sure, good luck x"

The 'x' slips out before you can stop it - you've never added that before. Your finger hovers over the delete button, but he's already seen it.

Franco: "Did THE YN just send me a kiss? Screenshots being taken. This is historic

You're still smiling about your early interaction with Franco when you walk into Christian Horner's office, but his expression is serious enough to make your smile fade. You've been here before - these "casual meetings" that could determine your future.

"YN, thanks for making time," he gives a polite smile, "Please, take a seat."

You sit, trying to read his expression. Last week's podium trophy sits on a shelf behind him - your trophy, earned after fighting through half the grid.

"As you're aware, your contract includes certain performance clauses. While your recent results, particularly Brazil, have been impressive, we need to consider all options for the team's future."

That familiar knot in your stomach returns. "What kind of options?"

"I was at Williams recently," Christian says carefully, "discussing various possibilities, including Franco Colapinto."

The world seems to tilt slightly. Franco. At Williams. Meeting about possibilities. Just like with Logan.

"I got P2 in Brazil," you say, hating how defensive your voice sounds. "Started P15. In the rain. I battled with the entire grid while also defending for Max to secure a double podium."

"Yes, and it was an exceptional drive-"

"I'm fifth in the championship. I've scored podiums consistently despite the car being a nightmare to drive most of the times. What more do I need to do?"

Christian's expression remains neutral. "This isn't about any single result, YN. We need to evaluate all potential scenarios for the team's future."

"So you're considering replacing me," you say flatly. "With Franco."

"I trust you understand this is just business, YN," Christian says as you stand to leave. "We have to explore every option."

You pause at the door, turning back slightly. "Of course. Business." Your voice is perfectly controlled. "Just like my P2 in Brazil was business. My podiums were business. Everything I've given to this team has been business."

"YN-"

"No, I get it. Really." You manage a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I have some sim work to review."

It hits you as you drive back to your apartment - every friendly conversation, every shared coffee, every late-night text… none of it was real. Franco isn't your friend. He's just another driver who sees you as an obstacle to overcome, a seat to claim. Just like everyone else since you entered F1, smiling to your face while plotting to take what's yours.

Back in your apartment, your phone keeps lighting up with Franco's messages, each one making your chest tighter. You can't bring yourself to block him - that feels too much like acknowledging how much this hurts. Instead, you just... stop responding. Set the phone aside. Focus on your laptop, on race data, on anything else.

Your phone rings - Oscar's familiar face popping up on the screen.

"Finally!" he exclaims when you answer. "I've been trying to reach you all day. You missed the most hilarious thing - Lando tried to make vegemite pasta."

Despite everything, you find yourself smiling. "Please tell me someone filmed it."

The conversation flows easily, almost making you forget about everything else. Almost.

"Oh yeah," Oscar adds casually, "ran into Franco at paddle today. He seemed pretty worried-"

"He better focus on preparing for his Red Bull seat instead."

"His what?" Oscar sounds confused. "Stinks, what are you on about?"

"Horner had meetings at Williams. About Franco. About possibilities. Sound familiar?"

"Hang on, hang on. Did you even talk to Franco about this? Because he genuinely seemed concerned-"

"Of course he seemed concerned, Os. That's the whole point."

"YN, I know you. You're doing that thing where you push people away before they can hurt you. But stinks, I really don't think-"

"I have to go. Sim data to review."

"At least talk to him-"

You end the call, turning back to your laptop. Three races left. Three chances to prove everyone wrong. No more distractions, no more letting your guard down.

You'll do it the only way that matters in F1 - on track, where lap times speak louder than friendly texts, and championship points mean more than shared coffee breaks.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You've managed three weeks. Three weeks of perfectly crafted indifference, of calling him "the Williams driver" in interviews, of taking different routes through the paddock just to avoid those chance encounters that used to make your heart skip. Three weeks of pretending you don't miss his stupid sparkle messages, or the way he always saves you a coffee during early practice sessions.

But now your hands won't stop shaking as you stare at your dark phone screen, trying to ignore the screens showing the mangled Williams in the Las Vegas Strip. You've watched the replay seventeen times without meaning to, each time feeling your heart stop at the impact.

"This is getting ridiculous," Max's voice is quiet beside you, making you jump. You didn't even hear him approach. "Stop with this nonsense."

"I'm fine," you respond automatically, thumb still pretending to scroll on your black screen. "Just checking the timing sheets."

"Your phone isn't even on." Max's hand appears, gently taking the phone from your trembling grip. "They've taken him to UMC. Just go."

"I can't," you whisper, finally looking up at your teammate. You hate how your voice catches. "Everyone will—"

"Who cares what everyone will say?" Max interrupts, already reaching for your bag. "Hannah's got a car waiting. Go."

"I don't want to," you protest weakly, but even you can hear how unconvincing it sounds. "I don't need to—"

"Stop," Max's voice is firm but gentle. "You're not going back to this. Not after everything. You care about him, stop pretending you don't."

You take a shaky breath, then nod once. You're out of the garage before you can change your mind and rebuild those walls you've spent three weeks perfecting. Because Max is right – you do care. You care so much it terrifies you. And right now, nothing else matters except knowing he's okay.

You hate hospitals. You've spent too many hours in them after your own crashes, but somehow this is worse. Standing outside his room, you're suddenly unsure of everything. Three weeks of carefully constructed distance seems ridiculous now.

"You can come in instead of hovering at the door," Franco's voice carries from inside, slightly hoarse but still holding that hint of amusement that always used to drive you crazy. "Unless you're planning to run away again."

You step inside, trying to maintain some composure even as your heart clenches at the sight of him. "I wasn't running away," you say automatically, but it sounds weak even to your ears.

"No?" He raises an eyebrow, wincing slightly at the movement. "So you just happened to take different paddock routes?"

"Franco—"

"It's back to Franco now? Not 'the Williams driver'?" There's hurt beneath his teasing tone, and it makes your chest tight. "That last interview was particularly cold, by the way. Very convincing."

You stay by the door, arms crossed. "I thought that's what everyone wanted. Space. Distance. Rivalry."

"You're here now though."

"Max made me come," you lie.

"Sure he did." Franco's small smile tells you he sees right through you. "Nothing to do with how many times you asked if I was okay over the radio?"

You feel your cheeks heat up. Of course he's heard the radio already. "I would have asked about any driver."

"YN," his voice softens, and it breaks something in you. "Stop pretending. Please. I miss my friend."

The last words hit you hard, and you finally let your arms drop, taking a step closer. "I miss you too," you whisper, and it feels like admitting defeat and victory all at once. "I was so scared when I saw the crash."

"Come here," he says quietly, patting the edge of the bed.

You hesitate for just a moment before crossing the room, carefully sitting beside him. "I'm sorry," you say softly. "For these past weeks. For being harsh. For—"

"I know," he interrupts, his hand finding yours. "I know. But you're here now."

You squeeze his hand gently, feeling the walls you've built crumbling completely. "You could have died today and I would have never—" you stop yourself, running your thumb over his knuckles without thinking. "All because of this stupid seat."

Franco's quiet for a moment, then lets out a small laugh that turns into a wince. "Is that what you think? That I'm after your seat?"

"Aren't you?" You try to pull your hand away but he holds on. "The meetings with Christian, the—"

"YN," he interrupts, waiting until you look at him. "I never got any offers from RedBull.”

You freeze. "What?"

"I'm not taking your seat," he says softly. "In fact, I still don't have a seat."

"But...the meetings with Horner?" You're struggling to process this. "He basically told me they were considering options for next season, and those options were you in my seat."

"Sounds to me that he was pressuring you." His eyes hold yours. "My team had meetings with RedBull, yes. But we never got a solid offer, not even for VCARB."

You feel slightly dizzy. Three weeks of avoiding him, of building up walls, of convincing yourself he was just another driver trying to take your seat...

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?" you finally manage.

"Well, you've taken the long way through the paddock just to avoid me," he teases, then becomes serious. "I wouldn't hurt you like that. You know that. Or at least, you used to."

"I got scared," you admit quietly. "When I heard about the meetings, I just... it was easier to push you away than to admit that I care about you."

The silence that follows feels heavy with everything unsaid. Finally, Franco squeezes your hand gently.

"Well," he says softly, "nearly dying seems to have worked out well for me then."

"That's not funny," but you're fighting a smile.

"Made you come see me though, didn't it?"

"I hate you," but there's no heat in it.

"No, you don't," he says confidently. "You just admitted you care about me. No taking it back now."

You roll your eyes but don't deny it. "How are you feeling, really?"

"Like I crashed a car at 200mph," he grins, then softens. "Better now though."

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liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1 and 1,908,479 others

yourinstagram champion x4 🏆so proud to be part of this journey. no one deserves it more than you @/maxverstappen1. thank you for being the best teammate anyone could ask for, on and off track.

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username1 IM CRYINGGGGG

username2 this is my family

maxverstappen1 Couldn't ask for a better teammate and bonus little sister. Thanks for having my back all season 💪🏻

↳ username1 HE SAID SHE'LL ALWAYS BE MY TEAMMATE

danielricciardo Look at my kids making me proud 🥹

christianhorner Fantastic team effort all year. Proud of both of you.

↳ username1 FIX HER CAR AND STOP FEEDING HER TO THE PRESS!!

username5 the way max waited to celebrate until she crossed the finish line

username6 remember when they said they wouldn't get along

username7 brother sister energy we love to see it

francolapinto Amazing work 🙌

↳ username8 bro ready to take her seat

username9 their relationship is too pure. max adores her like she's his little sister and yn would take a murder charge for him pretty much

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After showering and changing post-race, you're walking back to your hotel room when your phone buzzes. Franco's name lights up the screen: "Hey... could you come to my room? Need to get my mind off today. Room 412."

You hesitate only briefly before responding. After everything that's happened - the crash, the hospital, the conversations that followed - things between you have felt different.

Qatar had been grueling, you managed to score a solid P4 but the story for Franco had been different. He was part of a collision during turn one that ended his race right there. You heard it on the radio and your heart couldn't help but ache for him.

When you knock, Franco opens the door looking drained, his usual spark dimmed by the day's events. He's changed into soft sweatpants and a team shirt, hair still damp from his shower.

"That bad, huh?" you say softly, following him into the room.

He drops onto the bed with a sigh. "First lap incidents are the worst. All that preparation, all those hours in the sim… gone in seconds."

You settle into the armchair across from him. "I saw the replay. That wasn't your fault - Hulkenberg came across way too aggressively."

"Doesn't matter whose fault it was. Points are points, and I need them." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you've come to recognize as stress. "The pressure's getting intense. Everyone keeps asking about next year's plans, and I just… I don't know."

"Hey," you say gently, moving to sit beside him. "You're one of the most talented drivers out there. Everyone sees it."

"Do they?" His voice is uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Because right now it feels like every mistake is being magnified. One DNF and suddenly everyone's questioning if I deserve the seat."

"I know that feeling too well," you admit. "I mean, I spent three weeks avoiding you because I thought you were after my seat."

That draws a small laugh from him. "Not my finest moment in the hospital, guilt-tripping you about it."

"It worked though, didn't it?" you nudge his shoulder playfully, "Plus, I guilt tripped you about Logan's seat for the longest time, it's only fair."

"Yeah, well, I was desperate. Do you know how hard it was watching you take different routes through the paddock just to avoid me?"

"About as hard as it was taking those routes," you say softly. "I missed you."

"You did manage to find some creative paths though," he teases, his mood lightening slightly. "I particularly enjoyed watching you duck behind Lando in the airport."

"I did not duck!"

"You absolutely did. Practically dove behind him. Poor guy had no idea why you suddenly needed an urgent conversation about sim settings."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "Well, what about you? Mr. 'Oh sorry, I didn't see you there' when we literally made eye contact in the media pen?"

"That was Oscar's fault! He told me my hair looked weird and I got distracted."

"Your hair always looks weird."

He gasps in mock offense. "Take that back! This hair has its own fan accounts."

"Yeah, horror fan accounts maybe," you tease.

"Says the person who needed my expert braiding skills before races."

"Which you learned from your sisters, if I remember correctly?"

His expression softens. "Actually… I might have YouTube'd it after Mexico."

That catches you off guard. "You… what?"

"Yeah," he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking sheepish. "Spent like three hours practicing on a rope I found in the gym. Alex caught me and wouldn't stop laughing."

"That's…" you feel something warm bloom in your chest. "That's actually really sweet."

"Don't tell anyone," he grins. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"Oh yeah? What reputation is that?"

"You know, cool, mysterious, definitely not the type to watch hair braiding tutorials."

You laugh. "Hate to break it to you, but anyone who's seen you try to work the coffee machine knows you're not mysterious."

"That machine is complicated!"

"It has three buttons!"

"Three very confusing buttons," he protests. "Besides, you're the one who always shows up right when I'm struggling with it."

"Pure coincidence."

"Right," he smirks. "Just like how you 'coincidentally' started showing up earlier to breakfast after I mentioned that's when I usually go?"

You feel your cheeks warm again. "I just… wanted to beat the rush."

"The rush of exactly two other drivers who eat that early?"

"Shut up," you mutter, but you're smiling.

The air between you changes, becomes charged with everything unsaid. You're suddenly very aware of how close you're sitting, how his eyes have dropped to your lips.

He doesn't say anything else, instead, he leans forward and kisses you, soft and careful, like he's afraid you might pull away. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you feel yourself melting into the touch.

When he pulls back, you blink at him, slightly dazed. "You kissed me."

His familiar smirk returns, though his eyes remain soft. "Well done, Sherlock."

You roll your eyes at his sass, but can't help smiling. This time, you're the one who leans in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss is deeper, more certain. His hand slides into your hair as you press closer, and you feel him smile against your mouth.

"You know," he says softly, playing with a strand of your hair, "besides being one of my racing idols, you've also always been my crush."

You pull back slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Don't let it go to your head," he grins.

"Oh my god," you laugh. "You were such a fan! Did you have posters too?"

He groans, hiding his face in your shoulder. "I'm never telling you anything again."

"No, no, this is great," you tease. "I'm just a year and a half older than you, Colapinto, and you completely idolized me."

"I hate you," he mumbles into your shoulder.

"No you don't," you say confidently. "You just admitted you had a crush on me."

He lifts his head, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. "Still do, actually. Although the real you is much more annoying than poster you."

"Poster me didn't call you out on your coffee machine struggles."

"Poster you was much nicer," he agrees, but he's smiling as he leans in to kiss you again.

This kiss is slower, deeper, filled with everything you've both been holding back. When you finally pull apart, you rest your forehead against his.

"Been wanting to do that for a while," he admits softly.

"Even when I was avoiding you? Or giving you crap to defend my best friend's honor?"

"Especially then. Do you know how adorable you looked trying to pretend you didn't see me in the paddock?"

"Shut up," you laugh.

"Never," he grins, pulling you closer. "I have years of fan stories to make up for."

You kiss him again just to shut him up, but you can feel him smiling against your lips, and you think maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you're meant to be.

"You're never going to let me live down the fan thing, are you?" he asks when you break apart.

"Not a chance," you smirk. "I bet Alex has pictures of you practicing those braids too."

"Don't you dare!"

But you're already reaching for your phone, laughing as he tries to grab it from you, and somehow you end up tangled together on the bed, both laughing too hard to care about anything else.

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You're halfway through your coffee when Franco appears, wearing his team polo and that signature grin that used to irritate you but now makes your stomach flutter. It's still surreal how much has changed - from despising him for taking Logan's seat, to avoiding him over your seat rumors, to… whatever this is now. He slides into the seat next to you, leaning in for a kiss. You quickly place a hand on his chest, pushing him back playfully.

"Easy there, hotshot," you tease. "Let's keep it professional."

"Professional?" He raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, don't be shy now. Not after last week."

You feel your cheeks warm at the memory. "Last week was different. We were alone."

"Oh, so that's the rule? Only when we're alone?" He leans closer, lowering his voice. "Should we discuss what else happened when we were alone?"

"Franco!" You swat his arm, but you're fighting a smile.

"What? I'm just saying, for someone who used to avoid me like I had the plague, you sure changed your tune."

"Yeah, well," you stir your coffee, trying to maintain your composure, "turns out you're not as annoying as I thought."

"High praise," he chuckles. "Remember when you wouldn't even look at me in driver briefings?"

"Remember when you replaced my best friend and then tried to steal my seat?"

"I didn't try to steal your seat!" he protests. "That was all media speculation."

Before you can respond, Max drops into the seat across from you, already looking amused at finding you two together.

"Well, well," he says, reaching for the coffee pot. "If it isn't my favorite teammate and her… what are we calling this now?"

You roll your eyes. "We're calling it none of Max's business."

"Everything is Max's business," Max says cheerfully. "Especially when said business involves my teammate getting cozy with the competition."

Franco's phone buzzes and his expression shifts slightly as he reads the message, and you catch that flicker of worry he's been trying to hide all weekend. The weight of it being potentially his last race in F1 has been hanging over both of you.

"Engineers?" you ask softly.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Last pre-race meeting of the season. Hopefully not my last ever," he adds, attempting a joke that falls flat.

You reach for his hand under the table, giving it a quick squeeze. "Hey, you've shown what you can do this year. The pace is there, the talent is there-"

"The results aren't," he cuts in, running his free hand through his hair. "DNF and crashes don't exactly scream 'keep me for next year.'"

"The car's been shit though," Max speaks up, "Everyone knows that. You've outqualified your teammate and scored points."

"Try telling that to the team principals," Franco says, attempting a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Anyway, better go before they add 'chronically late' to my resume." He stands, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "See you later?"

"Of course," you say softly. "Good luck in the meeting."

Once Franco leaves, Max leans forward, "Okay, spill. Everything. Now."

"There's nothing to spill."

"Nothing to spill?" Max scoffs. "Last month you were convinced he was plotting to take your seat, and now he's kissing you goodbye at breakfast? That's not nothing."

"You don't need to know everything about my life, Max," you try to busy yourself with your coffee, that's pretty much cold by now.

"I'm the older brother you never wanted but got stuck with anyway, so I do need to know about these things."

You sigh, knowing he won't let this go. "Fine. After Qatar, things changed. We… spent time together."

"Spent time together?" Max wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not like that!" you protest, then lower your voice. "Well, not just like that. We talked a lot. About everything again - the rumors, the misunderstandings, why I was so angry about Logan, and… I don't know. It's different now. Good different. When I'm with him, everything just feels…" you trail off, searching for the right words.

"Right?" Max supplies, his teasing tone softening.

"Yeah," you admit. "Which makes this whole situation even harder. If he doesn't get a seat…"

"Then you'll figure it out," Max says, "But let's not write him off yet. Season's not over until the checkered flag."

You nod, but can't help glancing at the door Franco left through. "You know what's ironic?" you say, turning back to Max. "A few months ago, I was worried about him taking my seat. Now I'd give anything for him to have one, anywhere on the grid."

Max smiles knowingly. "Amazing what a few kisses can do."

"It's not just that," you protest. "He deserves to be here. He's so talented-"

"And you're completely smitten," Max interrupts, grinning.

"Shut up," You throw a napkin at him. "I'm getting a new teammate next year," you declare.

"No you're not," Max laughs. "You love me." He pauses, suddenly looking both nervous and excited. "Actually… want to know a secret?"

Something in his tone makes you lean forward. "Always."

"Kelly's pregnant," he says, a huge grin spreading across his face. "We just found out last month"

You practically leap across the table to hug him, nearly knocking over both your coffees in the process. "Oh my god! Max! I'm going to be an auntie!"

He laughs, hugging you back. "Actually…" he pulls back slightly to look at you, "What do you think about being a godmother?"

Your eyes widen. "Are you serious?"

"Of course," he grins. "Who else would I trust to teach my kid how to properly terrorize the paddock?"

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm going to spoil them so much," you warn, hugging him again. "Like, an absolutely ridiculous amount."

"I know," he laughs. "That's kind of counting on it."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Just family for now," he says. "And you, obviously. Because you are family."

You're definitely crying now. "I hate you for making me cry before a race weekend."

"Sure you do," he grins. "Just like you hate Franco, right?"

You wipe your eyes, deciding to ignore his comment. "God, I can't believe you're going to be a dad!"

"Me neither," he admits, and there's something soft and vulnerable in his expression that makes your heart squeeze. "It's scary but… in a good way, you know?"

"You're going to be amazing," you tell him seriously. "The best dad ever."

His smile turns mischievous. "Just wait until Franco gets you pregnant-"

"And that's my cue to leave," you gather your things. "Congratulations again, future dad. I love you, even when you're the worst."

His laughter follows you out of the room. "Love you too, future godmother!"

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liked by maxverstappen1, francolapinto and 2,099,437 others

yourinstagram ABU DHABI WINNER! 🏆✨ still feels surreal to type those words. to win the last race of the season, after everything… no words can describe this feeling. thank you to every single person who never stopped believing in me, even when things got tough. to my incredible team - this one's for you. we did it! 🧡

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username1 SHE FUCKING DID IT

username2 first win of the season in the last race - poetic justice

username3 the way everyone doubted her at the start of the season and now look at her QUEEN BEHAVIOR

logansargeant YESSSS! That move was legendary! So proud of you!

username4 this feels so RIGHT

francolapinto Mi campeona 🖤 That last lap move was 🔥

↳ username1 IM CRYING OMFG

↳ username2 THEY'RE SO TOGETHER I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

username5 brb i'll be crying while i watch that video of her hugging franco

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You're still riding the high of your Abu Dhabi win as you unlock your apartment door. Your first win of the season, in the last race - it feels poetic, somehow. Like a final "fuck you" to everyone who doubted you, who questioned your seat, who spent the entire season speculating about your future.

The trophy sits in your bag, along with the champagne bottle Charles insisted you keep. Franco follows you in, still wearing that soft smile he's had since he watched you cross the finish line.

He's staying at your apartment since he doesn't have a place in Monaco and the now traditional drivers dinner is happening, after all you time together, inviting him over felt...natural.

The past few days have been a whirlwind - the podium, the celebrations, the multiple kisses stolen in your motorhome between media duties. The flight to Monaco where you both pretended to sleep but kept "accidentally" touching hands. It should feel fast, rushed, but somehow it just feels right.

"Still can't believe you pulled that move on the last lap," Franco says, dropping his bags by the door. "Even Max was impressed, I think you broke his brain a little."

"Speaking of broken, try not to destroy anything while you're here," you tease. "Some of us actually live in Monaco full-time."

Franco turns to you with mock offense. "When have I ever broken anything?"

"Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically?" you raise an eyebrow. "Because I distinctly remember a certain incident with Lewis' scooter…"

"That was a manufacturing defect and you know it," he protests, moving closer.

"Sure it was," you laugh. "Just like the tablet in Singapore was a 'technical malfunction'?"

He's close enough now that you can smell his cologne, the same one that's been driving you crazy since Qatar. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Never," you confirm, but your voice comes out softer than intended because he's looking at you the way he has been since that first kiss in his room - like you're something precious.

"Guest room's down the hall," you say quickly, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "Bathroom's across from it, you know the drill."

Franco raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes that you're starting to know too well. "You're really going to make me take the guest room? After all our bonding?"

"Bonding?" you scoff. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Well, what would you call making out in your motorhome? And the plane bathroom? And-"

You cut him off by pressing your hand to his mouth. "Those were… moments of weakness."

He kisses your palm before moving your hand, and the simple gesture shouldn't make your heart race like it does. "Lots of moments."

"I was emotionally vulnerable," you argue weakly.

"Uh-huh," he steps closer, backing you against the wall. "And now?Are you emotionally vulnerable now?" His hands find your waist, and you try to ignore how right they feel there.

"I'm…" you start, but then he's kissing you, slow and deep, and you forget what you were going to say.

When he pulls back, you're both breathing heavily. "We should get ready for dinner," you manage.

"We should," he agrees, but kisses you again.

"Franco," you mumble against his lips. "We're already late."

"Five more minutes," he murmurs, trailing kisses down your neck.

It ends up being fifteen minutes before you finally push him away, your lips swollen and hair slightly messed up.

"Guest room," you point firmly. "Get changed."

He grins, stealing one last quick kiss before grabbing his bag. "Yes, boss."

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yourinstagram has added to their close friends story

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You arrive at Lewis' Monaco penthouse a fashionably acceptable ten minutes late, Franco's hand resting casually on your lower back as the elevator opens to the top floor. The space is already filled with the familiar chatter of your fellow drivers, the city lights twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Look who finally made it," Charles calls out, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Got lost on the way from your apartment? It's only three blocks…"

"Traffic," you say smoothly, ignoring Franco's poorly concealed laugh beside you.

"Must have been terrible," Alex joins in, eyes twinkling. "Considering you live literally around the corner."

Lewis appears, saving you from having to respond. He hugs you warmly before turning to Franco with a grin. "No scooters allowed inside this time, mate."

"That was one time!" Franco protests as everyone laughs. "And it was definitely faulty manufacturing."

The evening flows easily, conversation and wine flowing freely as everyone celebrates the end of another season. You find yourself constantly aware of Franco's presence - the way he automatically hands you your favorite wine, how his hand finds yours under the table, the soft looks he gives you when he thinks no one's watching.

(They're all watching. These are racing drivers - subtlety isn't their strong suit.)

"Get together, everyone!" you call out later, holding up your phone. "I want a picture."

There's the usual chaos of twenty-odd drivers trying to arrange themselves, plenty of shoving and laughing as everyone finds their spot. Franco ends up behind you, his chest pressed against your back, hands resting lightly on your waist.

"Alright, someone else take it," Lando announces. "YN's too busy making heart eyes at Franco to frame it properly."

"I am not-"

"You kind of are," Pierre interrupts with a grin.

"Just like in Abu Dhabi," Oscar adds. "And the flight home. And baggage claim. And-"

"I hate all of you."

The night continues with more conversation, more drinks, and constant teasing from your friends. Even Charles joins in, muttering something about "finally dealing with all that sexual tension in the briefings."

By the time you leave, you're both pleasantly tipsy, walking back to your apartment with slightly unsteady steps. The moment your door closes behind you, the atmosphere shifts.

"So," he says finally, stepping closer. "About that guest room…"

"What about it?" you ask, but you're already moving toward him.

"I'm thinking," he cups your face with one hand, "that it would be a shame to use it."

"Would it?"

"Mhmm," he's close enough now that you can feel his breath on your lips. "Especially when the winner deserves proper celebrations."

"Or maybe you're just being a horndog," you tease, even as your hands find their way to his chest.

"Maybe," he concedes. "Or maybe I just can't stop thinking about kissing you."

Your breath catches. "You've already kissed me plenty today."

"Not enough," he murmurs, then proves his point by capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is different from all the others. Those were stolen moments, quick and heated. This is slower, deeper, like he's trying to memorize every second.

"Don't make me take the guest room," he murmurs against your lips.

You pretend to think about it, even as your hands slip under his shirt. "Well, since you asked so nicely…"

"I can be very nice," he grins, then kisses you again, backing you toward your bedroom.

"Prove it," you challenge.

The guest room remains empty that night. And many nights after.

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liked by pierregasly, francolapinto and 2,044,387 others

yourinstagram i love my little dysfunctional family !! yes i'm the one behind the camera

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username1 THIS IS LEGENDARY

username3 FRANCO'S FACE ??? DEVASTATED BC HIS GIRL IS NOT NEXT TO HIM

lewishamilton Always family ❤️

oscarpiastri Never sitting between you and your lover boy again..

↳ username1 HUH??

↳ username2 oscar spill the deets PLEASE

↳ logansargeant to the gc NOW

↳ username3 LET ME INNNNN

↳ username4 im crying

↳ yourinstagram i hate you both

francolapinto ❤️

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yn's biggest fans groupchat

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You're curled up on your couch, watching the lights of Monaco twinkle through your window as snow falls softly outside. Franco's just finished unpacking his bags, having arrived from Argentina an hour ago. The past weeks without him felt strangely empty, even though you'd been surrounded by family for Christmas.

"Mama keeps asking about the foods I mentioned you cook," Franco says, settling beside you with a grin. "She's convinced I'm making it up."

"Did you tell her it's mostly pasta and those empanadas you taught me to make?"

"Si, but she says my standards have dropped since moving to Europe," he laughs, stealing some of your blanket. "How was your family?"

"Good. Dad's still buzzing about Abu Dhabi. He's watched the replay about fifty times, especially that last lap battle with Max," you grin, throwing your legs over his lap. "How was home?"

"Hot," he sighs contentedly. "Really hot. Nothing like a proper Argentinian summer."

"Meanwhile I was freezing in London," you poke his side. "Speaking of which… don't you have some news to share?"

He raises an eyebrow. "How did you-"

"Carlos texted me. He's terrible at keeping secrets."

Franco runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you've come to recognize. "I signed with Williams. As their reserve driver for next season, there's talk about 2026, but nothing concrete yet."

"Franco!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around him. "That's amazing!"

He hugs you back, letting out a relieved laugh. "You think so?"

"Of course I do!" you pull back to look at him. "Williams is doing great things, and with Carlos and Alex there…" you trail off, seeing something in his expression. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing bad," he assures quickly. "Just… I'll be based in England a lot. For simulator work and development."

"Oh," you say quietly, understanding dawning. You'd gotten used to having him here, in your space, in the paddock, in your life.

"Hey," he tilts your chin up. "It's not that far. And I'll still be at all the races. Plus," his lips quirk up, "I hear Nice has a pretty good airport."

You can't help but smile. "True. And I suppose I could be convinced to visit Grove occasionally."

"Only occasionally?" he teases.

"Well, I am very busy and important," you say loftily, making him laugh.

His eyes drop to your lips. "I'm sure you can save some time for me," he murmurs before closing the distance between you.

The kiss is soft and familiar, like coming home after a long trip. When you pull back, he's wearing that small smile that always makes your stomach flip.

You settle back against him, comfortable silence falling between you. "Talk to me about next season," he says eventually. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Honestly? I'm nervous," you admit. "Abu Dhabi was amazing, but what if it was just luck? What if I can't do it again?"

"The same way Suzuka was luck? And Singapore? And that insane qualifying in Baku?" Franco shifts to look at you properly, "You've been fast all season. Abu Dhabi just proved what everyone already knew."

"Smooth," you laugh, then remember something. "Oh! Speaking of next year - what are you doing for New Year's Eve?"

"Nothing yet. Why?"

"Logan's throwing a party in Florida for his birthday. Want to come?"

Franco hesitates. "Won't that be…"

"What? Weird because you stole his seat?" you tease, making him groan.

"I thought we cleared that up months ago," he protests.

"We did, I just like messing with you," you grin. "Come on, it'll be fun. There'll be cake."

“You know my weakness,” he sighs dramatically. “Does this mean I get to kiss you at midnight?”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be my midnight kiss,” you tease, even as you lean into him.

“No? Planning on kissing someone else?” he raises an eyebrow, hands settling on your waist.

“Maybe. Logan might have a hot friend…”

"Terrible," he murmurs against your lips. "You're terrible."

"You like it," you whisper back, just before he kisses you again.

When you finally break apart, he's already reaching for the remote. "Want to watch Qatar?"

You groan, but you're smiling. "I hate you."

"No you don't," he says confidently, pulling up the race highlights.

And as he starts his terrible commentary, making you laugh despite yourself, you think about how easy this is - whatever this is between you. No labels, no pressure, just… this.

Outside, Monaco continues to sparkle under the falling snow, but in here, with Franco's warmth beside you and his voice in your ear pointing out "that brilliant move you did in turn 4" for the hundredth time, you think maybe some things don't need defining to be perfect.

Plus, you already know who your midnight kiss is going to be. Not that you'll tell him that - his ego's big enough as it is.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 12,870 others

f1gossip Spotted: F1's power couple enjoying a day out in Monaco! Franco Colapinto and YN were seen strolling around today, looking very cozy! The pair, who have been subject to dating rumors seemed to have no interest in hiding their relationship anymore.

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username1 THE FUUUUUCK

username2 i don't like this..

username3 FRANCO GET AWAYYYY she's going to distract him

username4 why is this lowkey powerful

username5 THIS PLOT TWIST OMFG

username6 i thought they hated each other ??

username7 oh how the tables have turned

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Music pulses from Logan's Miami beach house as you and Franco make your way up the palm-lined driveway. The December air is surprisingly warm, fairy lights twinkling in every tree and reflecting off the pool visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your hand is loosely intertwined with Franco's, something that still gives you butterflies even after weeks of... whatever this is between you.

"Birthday boy!" you call out as Logan spots you from the entrance, where he's greeting guests in a ridiculous party hat and an even more ridiculous Hawaiian shirt.

"If it isn't my best friend and the guy who stole my seat," Logan grins, pulling you into a tight hug before turning to Franco with an exaggerated suspicious look that quickly breaks into a genuine smile. "Good to see you, man."

"Happy birthday," Franco offers with a grin, accepting Logan's enthusiastic handshake-turned-hug. "Nice shirt."

"Right? YN said it was terrible, but what does she know about fashion?"

"Hey!" you protest, but you're laughing. "I have great taste."

Logan's eyes drift meaningfully to your joined hands. "Clearly," he smirks, making you blush and Franco chuckle. "Drinks are everywhere, food's by the pool, try not to fall in."

"That was one time," you mutter as Logan gets pulled away by more arriving guests.

Franco raises an eyebrow. "One time?"

"Don't ask. Come on, I need a drink before I tell you that story."

After getting drinks, you find yourself drifting between groups, Franco's hand a constant presence at the small of your back or linked with yours. It's nice, you think, not having to overthink every interaction, every touch. Here, away from the paddock and the cameras, you can just... be.

It's about an hour into the party when Logan finds you again, now sporting two party hats and what looks suspiciously like glitter on his cheek.

"Stinks! Just the person I wanted to see," he announces, dragging you away from where Franco is deep in conversation with Alex. "Back in five," he tells Franco with an exaggerated wink that makes you roll your eyes.

"Subtle," you comment as Logan leads you to the makeshift bar.

"Please, subtle went out the window when you two showed up holding hands like teenagers at prom," he snorts, mixing drinks with practiced ease. "Speaking of which..."

"Don't start," you warn, but you're fighting a smile.

"Me? Start something? Never," he puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I just find it interesting that the same person who spent three hours ranting to me about 'that arrogant Argentine who stole your seat' is now making heart eyes at him across my party."

"You're impossible."

"And you're happy," he says softly, his teasing tone giving way to something more sincere. "Like, really happy. I haven't seen you like this in… well, ever."

You look down at your drink, feeling your cheeks warm. "Yeah, well…"

"Hey," Logan nudges your shoulder. "It's a good thing. You deserve this, YN. Someone who gets you, who understands the pressure and the crazy schedule and still looks at you like you hung the moon."

"He doesn't-"

"He absolutely does. Trust me, I've been watching him watch you all night. It's disgustingly cute."

"I'm kind of scared, Logan," you look down at your hands nervously, "Six months ago, I hated him. And now I can't picture myself apart from him. It's all happening really fast and I'm not quite sure when everything shifted, but I feel like there's no going back now. And that's terrifies me."

"Stinks," Logan says gently, "you didn't hate him. You were hurt because of how everything went down with the seat, and you projected that onto him. I get being scared. This sport… it complicates things. But I've seen how he looks at you and how you look at him. It's okay to have feelings for him."

"How do you always know what to say?" you look up at him.

"Because I'm your best friend," he squeezes your shoulder. "Now go get your man. And please kiss him at midnight so I can win the bet with Alex."

"You bet on us?!"

"The whole grid did. I have fifty bucks riding on tonight!"

Later, as midnight approaches, you find yourself on the beach with Franco, fairy lights and stars twinkling above. Your conversation with Logan keeps playing in your mind, making you fidgety.

"You okay?" Franco asks softly, touching your arm.

"FIVE MINUTES!" someone shouts from the house.

"I have feelings for you," you blurt out. "Like, real feelings. And I know it's fast and complicated and I was horrible to you at first because I was hurt about the seat thing but then you were so nice and understanding and you brought me coffee after bad practice sessions and you defended me to the press and you make me laugh even when I'm trying to be mad and your accent gets thicker when you're tired which is unfairly adorable and-"

"THREE MINUTES!"

"-and sometimes I catch you looking at me in debriefs and it makes me forget what I'm saying and Oscar keeps making these knowing faces at us and I pretend to be annoyed but actually I kind of like it and-"

"SIXTY SECONDS!"

"-and I know this could complicate everything but I can't stop thinking about you and the way you smile when you see me in the morning and how you remember how I like my coffee and-"

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"

"-and maybe this is crazy but I really really like you and I know we should probably talk about what this means for next season but-"

"FOUR! THREE!"

"-and I just needed you to know-"

"TWO! ONE!"

Franco cuts off your rambling with a kiss, one hand cupping your face while the other pulls you closer. You melt into him as fireworks explode overhead, your heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the celebration around you.

When he pulls back, he's wearing that soft smile that always makes your stomach flip. "You're so cute when you rant."

"I don't rant," you protest weakly.

"Mi amor, you just spent ten minutes listing all the things you like about me, including my accent."

"Shut up."

He laughs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I want to be with you, YN. Officially, properly, no more undefined territory. I want everyone to know that you're mine and I'm yours. I want morning coffees and post-race celebrations and quiet moments like this. I want all of it, with you."

"Yeah?" you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

"Yeah," he confirms, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "I'm crazy about you, in case my terrible attempts at flirting haven't made that obvious."

"Your flirting isn't terrible."

He kisses you again, laughing against your lips. "So… is that a yes?"

You pretend to think about it. "I don't know, Logan's friend is looking pretty good tonight…"

"Terrible," he murmurs, pulling you impossibly closer. "You're terrible."

"You like it," you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I like everything about you."

Your heart skips. "Everything?"

"Everything," he confirms. "Even your terrible taste in coffee."

You laugh, bright and happy, before pulling him down for another kiss. Around you, the party continues, music and waves and distant fireworks creating a perfect backdrop to this moment. When you finally break apart, you're both breathless and smiling.

"Happy New Year," you murmur.

"The happiest," he agrees, and as he leans in again, you think that maybe some feelings are worth being scared of, especially when they lead to moments like this.

Plus, you just won Logan a bet. Not that you'll tell him that.

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uncuredturkeybacon · 2 months ago

Text

𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you coach her game and quiet her mind

part two - part three - part four - part five

You met Paige Bueckers on a Tuesday afternoon in late September, your sophomore year at Hopkins.

It’s open gym. You aren’t technically supposed to be in there—you’ve already finished your weight training hour and your basketball season doesn’t start until winter—but the hum of a bouncing ball is too rhythmic to ignore. There’s a familiar comfort to the hollow echo of sneakers and grit on hardwood, something that calls you in like a whisper.

You open the gym door quietly, backpack still slung over one shoulder, and that’s when you see her.

Blonde ponytail swaying. Wide stance. Shot pocket high. Paige freaking Bueckers.

You’d heard of her, of course. Everyone at Hopkins had. Varsity freshman starter. Handles like a string puppet master. Shot like a dream. Girl had already been ranked nationally, and people couldn’t stop talking about her like she was some prodigy out of a sports movie. You thought it was all hype.

Then you saw her move.

And the thing was—she wasn’t just good. She was smooth. Every step calculated, but casual. Every pivot like muscle memory. She dribbled like the ball owed her rent.

She doesn’t notice you at first. Just keeps shooting from mid-range, the ball sailing through net with that soft, cotton-candy swish. Over and over and over.

You step in farther.

She stops, finally turning her head slightly, eyebrows raised. “You lost?”

You blink. “No. Just… didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

She nods once, grabbing her rebound. “You hoop?”

You shrug. “Yeah. But I train more than I play now. Strength and conditioning stuff. I work with Coach Cosgriff sometimes.”

Paige bounces the ball slowly under one hand, studying you with that squint she always seems to wear. “So you're, like, a trainer-trainer?”

You laugh once. “A sophomore trainer. I’m certified in watching YouTube videos and correcting people’s forms at the gym.”

She smirks. “Sounds legit.”

“Totally. Olympic-level.”

There’s a pause. You think she’s gonna go back to shooting, but instead she spins the ball toward you with a flick of her wrist. You catch it without thinking.

“Rebound for me?” she asks.

That’s how it starts.

You don’t say much that first week. You mostly pass the ball back to her and correct her foot placement when she does too many fade aways in a row. She doesn’t seem to mind your notes. In fact, she listens. Eyes narrow, brows drawn together. She nods when you speak. Adjusts. Tries again.

By week three, you’re staying after school just to watch her shoot.

By week five, she’s asking you to run drills with her. “I need someone who won’t go easy on me,” she says. “You look like you play defense like a demon.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You calling me aggressive?”

She grins. “I’m calling you annoying. Like a mosquito.”

You end up training together every week after that.

It’s past 6:30 PM, and the gym lights are humming like they’re tired of you both. You’ve run suicides, jump-rope footwork ladders, and back-to-back spot shooting. She’s collapsed on the baseline with a towel over her face.

“You trying to kill me?” she mumbles.

You grin, stretching near her. “You wanna be the best or nah?”

She lifts the towel just enough to peek at you. “I was the best like three years ago.”

“Complacency,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “That’s the first sign of career death.”

She snorts. “You sound like a Nike ad.”

“I sound like someone who’s keeping your ass in shape.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, tossing the towel aside. “You do.”

There’s something unspoken in the air. The gym is empty. Just your water bottles clinking, the soft squeak of shoes as you shift. She looks at you a beat too long.

“You ever think about going into this for real?” she asks suddenly. “Training people?”

“I already am,” you say. “I’m applying to kinesiology programs. Sports science. I wanna do this for a living. Maybe NBA. Or… WNBA.”

“You’d be good at it,” she says, and there’s no teasing in her voice.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You make people better without making them feel like shit. That’s rare.”

You blink. She’s never said something like that before—not with that tone. And something flickers in her eyes like she didn’t mean to say it aloud.

“I’d want you to keep working with me,” she adds quietly. “If I go to UConn. Or wherever.”

“You planning on bringing me with you?” you joke, nudging her shoe with yours.

She doesn’t joke back.

“Yeah,” she says simply.

The dorms are stuffy and the air smells like ramen and underachieving. You moved in early because Paige wanted to start pre-season training before official practices began. You aren’t on the team. You aren’t on staff—yet. But Paige made some calls. And they made an exception.

You’re the one in her corner before the season even starts.

You run her drills. Chart her shot percentages. Track her fatigue, time her sprints, log every mile she runs.

But you also learn her.

The way she hums under her breath when she’s shooting threes. The way she swears under her breath when she’s not getting it right. The way she pulls at the hem of her shorts when she’s overthinking.

The way she looks at you when she thinks you’re not looking.

You see it more now. The lingering. The heat behind her glances.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t look too.

You’re lying on your back in her dorm room after a long night of training, the air between you quiet but charged.

“You ever think this… all of it… happened too fast?” Paige asks softly, turning her head toward you.

You meet her eyes. “Basketball or…?”

She doesn’t answer for a second. “Everything.”

You inhale slowly. “No. I think some things happen when they’re supposed to.”

She smiles faintly, shifting closer.

“And what if this—us—is one of those things?”

You glance down between you. Your hands are almost touching.

You don’t pull away.

Neither does she.

“Then I guess we’re right on time.”

It’s weird how easily your dynamic translated to college. She still listens to you. She still trusts your eyes more than anyone else’s.

“Step on your left harder after the spin,” you tell her during an individual session. “You’re floating too long. You’re not getting enough power.”

She nods and tries again. Nails it. Of course.

Afterward, she walks with you back to your apartment, as she’s been doing for weeks now.

"You coming to the scrimmage Saturday?" she asks, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk.

"Obviously. I'll be sitting next to Coach. Telling him what he's doing wrong."

She laughs and bumps her shoulder into yours. "You're cocky."

"I'm right."

“You’re something,” she mutters.

You don’t ask what she means. You don’t need to.

But you can feel it growing. The way she lingers when she talks to you. The way she watches you when you speak with someone else. The way she listens too closely. Stands too close.

And then it happens.

It’s after a game—a blowout win. You’re the last two in the practice gym, her icing her knee, you jotting down some movement notes in your tablet.

She asks, “Do you ever think about us?”

You stop mid-type.

“Us?” you repeat.

“Yeah. You and me. Not just trainer-player.”

You blink. Slowly. “All the time.”

She’s quiet, like that answer knocked the wind out of her. “So what do we do?”

You swallow. “We try.”

She smiles, soft and quiet. “Cool. So… kiss me?”

You walk over, heart thudding like you’re about to play in front of a sold-out crowd. But this moment—this kiss—is private. Gentle. A quiet victory.

Dating Paige Bueckers is exactly what you expected and nothing like you imagined.

She’s a goof. Always humming Drake songs and using you as a weighted vest when you’re trying to do push-ups.

But she’s also laser-focused, and sometimes that means 3AM texts. My jumper feels off, help. So you drag yourself to the gym with bedhead and bad breath, and she lights up like the scoreboard when she sees you.

The chemistry you have—on and off court—is unmatched.

“Let’s try that pin-down cut again,” you say during a workout. “But sell it harder this time.”

She wipes sweat from her brow. “Why don’t you just play defense on me? That’ll make it real.”

So you do. And she doesn’t get past you the first three tries. Fourth try, she fakes right and spins left—you’re gone.

“God, I love when you push me like that,” she says, out of breath, laughing.

You grin. “Yeah?”

She walks toward you, playful. “Yeah.”

Paige kisses you there, right in the middle of the gym floor, hands on your hips like you're her anchor.

And you are.

You always have been.

There are tough days. Days she doubts herself. When the pressure builds and she doesn’t want to talk to anyone but you.

“I’m not playing like myself,” she says one night, curled on your couch.

You rub her thigh gently. “You’re in your head. You need to come back to your body. You need to play with joy.”

She looks at you, teary-eyed. “How do you always know?”

You shrug. “I’ve always known you, Paige.”

There’s a long pause. And then she says, “I think I want to do this forever.”

“Basketball?”

“You.”

It’s not flashy. There’s no grand gesture. No candlelit dinner. But it’s her. And it’s you. And it’s exactly enough.

It’s senior year now. She’s a legend. You’re her official trainer.

And people still call you Bueckers’ shadow, but now it comes with respect. Because they see it now. That you’ve helped shape her, sculpt her, kept her balanced.

On her senior night, she gives a speech.

She thanks her coaches. Her team. Her family.

And then, looking right at you, she says, “And to the person who’s been here since day one… my first pass, my best read, my forever one-on-one partner—thank you for never letting me forget who I am.”

You don’t cry.

Okay. You do.

But so does she.

Later that night, she pulls you into her room, shuts the door, and murmurs against your mouth, “You were always more than my trainer.”

You smile into the kiss. “I know.”

The moment Paige Bueckers’ name is called, the world erupts.

But she doesn’t.

She just looks at you.

Not the camera, not the stage—you. With that look you’ve seen a thousand times since high school. The one that says we did it.

You’re already standing when she launches into your arms, nearly knocking you back into the row of chairs behind you. Her arms wrap tight around your neck, her face pressed to your shoulder, whispering through the noise, “Don’t let go.”

You don’t.

Not when she pulls back, eyes glassy, hands still gripping your waist.

Not when she walks up to the stage with tears in her lashes and your name on her tongue.

And definitely not when the cameras catch her glancing at you before every answer.

The draft is a blur of bright lights, cheers, cameras, and interviews—but you stay close. Just off-screen. Just like always.

Until the media starts asking questions that aren’t about her game.

“Paige, congratulations on being the number one overall pick to the Dallas Wings! Can you tell us who you brought with you tonight?”

She glances sideways to where you're standing in her shadow. But you know her well enough to read the decision flicker behind her eyes.

She’s not going to hide you. Not anymore.

She turns back to the mic, confidence radiating from her like warm sun. “That’s my person. She’s been with me since high school. Trains me. Puts up with me. Challenges me. Loves me. So yeah—she’s a big part of why I’m here.”

The reporters buzz.

“Who is she to you?”

Paige smiles softly. “She’s everything.”

You nearly choke on your breath backstage.

Paige’s suit jacket is slung over a chair. Her shoes abandoned by the bed. Her Wings hat perched crooked on your head.

She’s on her knees in front of you, chin resting on your thigh, dress shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, her fingers lazily tracing circles on your knee.

“You really said all that on national television?” you murmur, smiling.

“I’ve wanted to say it since we were seventeen,” she replies. “Since that day in Hopkins when you rebounded for me until I cried.”

You slide your fingers through her hair. “You know what this means, right?”

“That I’m your number one overall pick, too?”

You grin. “That, and now the whole world’s gonna know you’re soft for me.”

She leans up and kisses you—slow, full of promise. “Let ’em.”

You lie back on the hotel bed as she climbs in beside you. Her fingers tangle with yours like muscle memory.

“I’m scared,” she whispers eventually.

“Of what?”

“The league. The pressure. Failing.”

You squeeze her hand. “You won’t fail. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

She turns to face you, nose brushing yours. “Stay with me through all of it?”

You press a kiss to her forehead. “Always. I trained you for this, remember?”

She grins sleepily. “Guess I’m stuck with you then.”

“No,” you say quietly. “You chose me.”

Her silence says everything.

And for the first time that night—long after the cameras stopped flashing and the confetti settled—you both breathe.

The sun’s barely cracked the skyline of Dallas, golden haze stretching long across the parking lot when Paige turns to you, duffel bag slung over one shoulder and her practice jersey half-tucked into her waistband.

“You sure you want to come?”

You raise an eyebrow as you slide into the passenger seat of her car. “Seriously?”

She grins, brushing a hand over your thigh before starting the engine. “I mean, you’re not on staff.”

“Nope. Just the person who got you to number one.”

She leans over at a red light and kisses your cheek. “Damn right.”

The gym is humming with controlled chaos when you arrive—assistant coaches shouting instructions, music blasting, rookies trying not to trip over their own nerves. Paige is handed her gear and directed to the locker room, while you find your way to the bench along the sideline.

You set your bag down beside you, pull out your tablet, and cross your legs. The gym smells like polished hardwood and sweat and the faintest trace of new opportunity.

And there she is—Paige Bueckers—tying her shoes like it’s still high school in Hopkins, rolling her shoulders, bouncing a ball between her legs like she doesn’t know every camera in the room is aimed at her.

Your stylus hovers, and you begin.

Hips tight in lateral slide. Right knee still drifting inward on push-off.

She doesn’t look at you once, but she doesn’t need to. She knows you’re watching. Studying. Calculating.

You catch her third turnover in scrimmage. The coach yells something—timing issue—but you know better.

Drifting right early on corner curl. Jumping the pass. Tell her to settle feet before turn.

The practice stretches two hours. Drills. Scrimmage. More drills. Water break. Media arrives toward the end, clicking cameras, calling out names. Paige answers politely. You watch how her smile fades when she turns away.

When it finally ends, she doesn’t even glance at the locker room. She walks straight to you.

“Alright, hit me,” she says, dropping beside you on the bench, water bottle tucked under one arm, legs wide and hands clasped between her knees. Her jersey clings to her back with sweat. Her hair’s pulled into a tight bun, a few loose curls framing her flushed face.

You smirk. “You sure? I’ve got five pages already.”

“Jesus,” she mutters, leaning over to peek. “You still do bullet points?”

“I upgraded. Color-coded now.”

She groans. “Please tell me red still means ‘sucked.’”

“Red means ‘must address immediately.’ But yeah, you sucked on a few.”

She tosses her towel at you. You duck, laughing. Then you glance down at your screen.

“You rushed your footwork on the baseline pick. Every time. You’re cutting the corner too shallow, and it’s forcing your hips to stay closed when you rise.”

“I felt that,” she says, nodding. “Couldn’t get any lift.”

“Exactly. Also—your right knee’s collapsing again on your jump stop. You need to slow down your load. Breathe through it.”

“Got it.”

“Scrimmage—third possession, you jumped the passing lane too early on the weak side. You overcommitted on a read that wasn’t there. That’s a high school mistake, Bueckers.”

She groans again, flopping back against the bleachers. “Ughhh. Be nicer.”

You smile. “No.”

She nudges you with her shoulder. “Anything good?”

You glance at her, the way her eyes are shining despite the exhaustion. You nod.

“You read the defense perfectly on that skip pass to Crystal. Footwork was clean, timing was elite. Also—your fake hesitation in transition off that turnover? Disgusting.”

She grins. “Filthy?”

“Filthy,” you confirm.

There’s a pause, one of those quiet pockets that only exist with people who know every version of you.

Then Paige stands.

“Come on. Let’s fix my corner curl.”

Half the players are already gone, heading toward the locker room or training room or their cars. But Paige pulls you to the far basket like it’s still your high school gym at midnight.

You don’t even hesitate. You grab a ball and toss it to her.

“Start at the top. Walk me through your cut.”

She moves to the elbow, begins her motion slow.

“Too shallow,” you call.

She adjusts. Again. Again.

“Keep your center low. You’re rising too soon.”

She adjusts. Again. And again.

You step closer, placing your hands on her waist as she resets.

“Watch your hips. You’re twisting before your feet are planted.”

Her eyes flick to you. “You watching my hips or checking me out?”

You give her a look. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You sure?” she smirks, stepping closer, her hands ghosting your sides.

You push her shoulder gently. “Back to work, Bueckers.”

She backs up, laughing.

Across the court, Coach Koclanes is still talking to staff when he glances over and sees the way Paige moves differently with you. The way she listens more intently. The rhythm of it. The ease.

He watches as she finishes her last curl, catches the ball you pass her, and sinks it from the wing—net barely moving.

You jog to grab the rebound. She resets.

And he’s already walking over to her by the time she sinks another shot.

“Paige,” he says, calm but direct.

She turns, wiping her forehead. “Coach.”

He glances across the court, then back at her.

“She yours?”

Paige follows his gaze to you, where you’re dribbling the ball lazily between your legs and checking your notes again.

She swallows.

“Yes, sir.”

Koclanes raises an eyebrow. “Trainer or girlfriend?”

“Both.”

He watches you again for a moment then nods slowly. “She’s sharp.”

Paige smiles. “She’s the reason I’m sharp.”

Koclanes studies her, arms crossed. “Alright. Just keep it professional when it counts.”

“She always does. I’m the reckless one.”

He smirks. “I figured.”

You're sprawled on the couch, tablet in your lap, and Paige is sitting on the floor between your knees, her back against the couch as you gently press into her shoulders.

“How bad was I?” she mumbles, half-asleep already.

“You weren’t bad,” you say. “You were just out of rhythm. New system. New teammates. New everything.”

She sighs. “It’s weird. Being the rookie again.”

You thread your fingers through her hair.

“You’ll adjust. You always do.”

She tilts her head to rest against your knee. “Coach asked about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Wanted to know if you were my trainer or my girlfriend.”

You grin. “What’d you say?”

“I said both.”

You pause. “And?”

“He said you’re sharp.”

You tap her forehead lightly. “Told you.”

She laughs softly.“Thanks for coming today.”

“I’ll be at every practice I can,” you promise. “Always.”

Paige reaches back, wrapping one hand around your ankle. “Feels like we never left the gym back home.”

You smile.

Because you know, deep down, that no matter how far Paige goes—WNBA stardom, championships, international fame—there will always be a corner of a court, a half-lit gym, where it’s just you and her.

The next time Paige asks if you’re coming to practice, you don’t answer. You just give her a look from across your shared bed, tablet already charging, stylus clipped to your hoodie collar. She laughs like she already knew.

"You're such a nerd," she teases, stretching as she slides out of bed.

"And you're late to everything but the gym," you shoot back, already packing snacks into her duffel.

Inside the Wings facility, it's déjà vu—but with a twist.

Paige is looser now. She’s smiling as she jogs out onto the court for warmups. Still focused, still razor-sharp, but her eyes find you through the bleachers like you're her true north.

You're already scribbling notes.

Dribble height off the left—still inconsistent. No dip off the hip before the pull.

She looks smoother today. Reads are quicker. She’s calling out switches and catching mismatches before they fully form. You know she’s watched the film. Your film.

And it shows.

She has a strong scrimmage. Ten assists. Fifteen points. The gym buzzes every time she touches the ball. Coaches watch her like she’s the answer to every late-game possession. But she still looks to you when she’s subbed out, even for just a moment.

A raised eyebrow from you is all it takes to remind her, slow your footwork, release higher, trust the screen.

She does. Nails her next three.

After practice ends, some of the players linger around the half-court line, chatting and stretching. But Paige’s sneakers squeak straight toward you.

She slides onto the bench beside you, water bottle cradled between her palms, jersey clinging to her collarbone with sweat.

“Well?”

You pass her the tablet. “You tell me.”

She scrolls. “Less red.”

You bump your knee against hers. “Because you actually did your hip mobility warm-up this time.”

“Don’t out me.”

You smirk. “I’ll keep your secrets if you keep hitting those high-release threes.”

She hands the tablet back, mock-serious. “Deal.”

You open your mouth to say something else, but someone clears their throat just behind you.

You turn and see him—Coach Chris Koclanes. Arms folded. Neutral face. Calculating eyes.

“Mind if I steal you a second?” he asks—not to Paige, but to you.

You blink, then glance at her. Paige just smiles and gives a subtle nod. You stand slowly, brushing your hands on your sweats as you follow him a few paces down the sideline.

He gestures toward the court. “That was a hell of a session for Bueckers.”

You nod. “She’s a rhythm player. Once she finds her pace, she’s lethal.”

“She credited you yesterday. Said you’ve been training her for years.”

“Since Hopkins.”

“She listens to you.”

You shrug, cautious. “We’ve built trust. I’ve been in her corner longer than most.”

Coach tilts his head, studying you. “You ever worked in a professional setting?”

“Not officially. Internships. Assistant roles. Mostly freelance analysis. Paige has been my primary focus.”

“I noticed.”

You’re silent.

Then he says it, casually—like it’s not a thing that could change your entire trajectory.

“I’ve got a spot open. Player development. One-on-one focus. I want you on staff—assigned directly to Paige.”

You freeze.

“Wait... what?”

He doesn’t waver. “You’ve clearly studied the game. You’ve got rapport. She trusts you more than anyone I’ve seen her with. I want that. I want you working with her officially. You’d be listed as player development assistant, but your job’s simple. Keep her sharp.”

“I—I’d need to talk to her about it.”

“You can. But it’s her job now. Not college. Not freelance. You’ll be part of the system. You in or not?”

You hesitate for the first time in a long time.

You’ve always been by Paige’s side. Always in the shadow just outside the spotlight. But this… this would put you inside the machine.

And that scares you.

But then Paige jogs over, towel around her shoulders, hair a mess, and eyes locked on you.

“You okay?” she asks, sensing the weight of the moment.

You look at her.

At the girl you trained through injuries, through heartbreak, through the hardest years of her life.

At the woman she’s become.

You smile softly.

“Coach wants to hire me,” you say.

Her brows lift. “For real?”

“To train you. Officially.”

There’s a pause.

Then her hand slides into yours, quiet but steady.

“What are you waiting for?”

You show up fifteen minutes early.

Even though you’ve walked through these gym doors a dozen times with Paige, everything feels different now. Your name’s on the clipboard. Your badge is clipped to your lanyard. You’re not just the person she looks for in the crowd.

You’re staff.

Official.

You nod to Coach Koclanes as you pass him in the hallway. He grunts a greeting, mid-conversation with another staffer, but you catch the way he gives a tiny approving nod in your direction.

Paige’s locker is already open when you make it to the court. She’s sitting cross-legged in front of it, re-lacing her sneakers like she didn’t lace and unlace them five minutes ago just to get it right.

She doesn’t say anything. Just looks up and gives you the smallest smirk.

“You nervous?” she asks without looking up.

“Why would I be nervous?” you say, adjusting your tablet bag and trying to sound like your heart isn’t pacing like it’s game day.

“Because you look like you’re about to give a TED Talk instead of coaching me through curls and closeouts.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

“Y/N?” Coach Koclanes’ voice calls from across the court.

You walk over. “Yes, Coach.”

“You’ll be shadowing the guards today. Track foot placement and timing—specifically the pick-and-pop sequences. If Bueckers misses any lift opportunities, I want it noted.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll run her one-on-one this afternoon. After team breakdown.”

“Understood.”

He claps your shoulder once, short and firm. “Welcome aboard.”

You nod. “Glad to be here.”

Practice unfolds like muscle memory.

You stay on the sidelines during group drills—eyes sharp, clipboard scribbling fast, quiet enough not to distract but focused enough to clock the split-second decision Paige makes before her assist in a half-court set.

Hesitation dribble sets defender. Delay creates opening. Reinforce timing.

During defensive rotations, she switches too late once.

You make a note.

She knows.

On the next possession, she’s early.

By a beat.

You smirk down at your page.

Water break.

Paige jogs past you, towel around her neck. She slows just enough to pass a quiet, “How am I doing, Coach?”

You don’t look up. “Foot’s still sliding out on the stagger screen. Don’t let your heel lead.”

“Got it.”

She grins and disappears into the huddle.

You keep writing.

The court’s cleared of team chaos. Most of the players have filtered out, heading to the weight room or showers. Coaches flutter around, chatting about the next game plan.

You wait with two fresh basketballs and a short list of drills. Paige walks back onto the court, damp hair tucked into a fresh headband, sweat already drying on her skin.

She nods at your clipboard. “How bad is it?”

“Not bad. But I’m not here to tell you what’s good.”

“Of course not.”

You toss her the ball. “We’re going to fix the angle on your split step first. You’re hesitating mid-transition when you don’t need to.”

She shifts into position. “I only trust you to tell me that.”

You smile quietly. “Lucky me.”

The next thirty minutes are the closest you’ve felt to home since stepping into this facility.

You aren’t just watching her. You’re correcting, measuring, coaching her through every breath and pivot.

Her shoulders relax under your voice.

Your fingers brush her knee to adjust her positioning—not intimate, but familiar.

You step in behind her on a jab series drill, guiding her hips gently with your hands to show where her weight should be. She exhales through her nose, eyes laser-focused on the floor.

When she nails it three reps later, she grins over her shoulder at you.

“I forgot how it feels when it clicks.”

You nod. “That’s why we’re here.”

Another assistant watching nearby chuckles. “She listens to you better than anyone.”

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

You’re gathering your clipboard and packing up your notes when Coach Koclanes walks over again. Paige’s eyes flick toward you once, but she heads toward the weight room with a soft brush of her fingers across your arm.

It’s subtle.

No one else would notice.

But you feel it.

Coach stops in front of you, arms crossed. “That was a clean session.”

“She’s responding well to structure,” you say.

“No. She’s responding to you,” he replies. “That’s why I pushed to get you on staff.”

You nod. “I appreciate that, sir.”

He watches Paige across the gym, already laughing with teammates in the weight room.

“You keep this up, you’re not just gonna be her trainer. You’ll be a real asset to this team.”

You look at him. “I want to help them all. But she’s the one I know best.”

He nods once. “Then don’t let her down.”

You tighten your grip on the clipboard. “Never have.”

That night, Paige sits beside you on your apartment balcony, toes tucked under her, hoodie zipped halfway, her knees brushing yours.

"You were so locked in today," she says.

"So were you."

She leans over and places a kiss on your shoulder, resting her head on your arm. “You made today feel like home.”

You close your eyes for a second, listening to the hum of Dallas in the distance.

“You are home,” you whisper.

She doesn’t reply.

She just laces her fingers with yours and holds on.

You linger near the back wall, just behind the assistants’ bench setup as the players finish changing. Paige tapes her wrists in near silence, bouncing her knee the way she always does before big games. You know her tells like your own breath.

She looks up once and catches your eye.

You nod, once. A signal.

You're ready.

She blinks slowly and exhales. A signal back.

I know.

Paige Bueckers in crunch time is art. She’s calm chaos. She moves like music. The crowd chants her name before the buzzer even sounds.

You don’t celebrate yet. You just stand with the clipboard tucked to your chest, waiting for the team to return to the bench.

And then she jogs off the court, towel over her head, high-fiving teammates—and her eyes go straight to you.

No smile.

No show.

Just a look that says everything.

I needed you here.

You give a subtle nod, lips parting just slightly, and she closes her eyes for half a second like she’s sealing the moment.

There are reporters. There are lights. Paige answers questions about the debut, the crowd, the shots. One asks if she felt ready.

She pauses. “I was more than ready.”

“What helped you prepare the most for your first game?”

She tilts her head slightly. “Honestly? I’ve had someone in my corner for years. She’s always known what I need before I do.”

A subtle answer.

But you know who she means.

Another day, another practice and you and paige stay past practice to work on more one-on-one training.

She’s standing at the elbow, hands on her hips, jersey damp with sweat. You’re holding the ball. Clipboard tucked under your arm. Your eyes narrow as you step forward.

“Okay. Three reps. Elbow pivot into the dribble-drop. Inside foot. One step. Pull.”

Paige nods. You pass her the ball. She moves—sharp, clean, quick—but her foot lands too flat. You don’t say anything, just tilt your head. She stops, pivots back toward you.

“Too slow?”

“Too flat.”

“Again?”

You toss the ball again. She resets. This time, the movement slices. Sharp plant. Quick pop. Perfect arc. Net barely stirs. You smile, but you don’t say anything. She already knows.

DiJonai Carrington is leaning against the wall near the exit, pretending to be texting. She's not. She’s watching.

She nudges Arike Ogunbowale, who’s walking by.

“Tell me that’s not a couple.”

Arike squints. “You mean Bueckers and iPad Girl?”

“Y/N,” DiJonai corrects.

“Yeah, I mean… they’re always together. I thought she was just training her.”

“Sure,” DiJonai says. “But you ever watch them?”

They both look again.

You’re walking in a small circle as Paige mirrors your movements, copying your footwork in silence, like dancers in slow sync. She laughs at something you say. You roll your eyes but reach out to adjust her elbow softly.

Arike raises an eyebrow. “That’s not just training.”

“Nope.”

You’ve got the court from 7 to 8 a.m. before scheduled practice begins. Paige shows up five minutes early—iced coffee in one hand, her mouth already chewing a bite of banana.

You’re in joggers and a Wings tee, tablet resting on a folding chair, cones lined up like a blueprint for something more serious than just “a workout.”

“You’re in a mood,” Paige says, setting down her drink.

“You’re inconsistent on your left side release. We’re fixing it today.”

She groans. “That’s a lefty problem.”

“It’s a you problem.”

She steps into her shoes and points. “Tell me what to do, Coach.”

You walk through it together.

Left foot plant. Shoulder twist. Off-hand steady. Ball into motion.

You call out commands. She adjusts immediately.

Thirty minutes in, she’s drenched. You toss her a towel and a water bottle.

“Better,” you admit.

“I’m gonna crash before real practice even starts,” she huffs.

You smirk. “You’ll thank me mid-season.”

Paige grins. “I always do.”

“Is it true?” Maddy Siegrist asks during stretching.

“What?” Ty Harris replies.

“That Paige and Y/N have been together since college.”

Ty shrugs. “They’ve known each other forever.”

“I thought it was just a trainer thing,” Maddy mutters.

Ty grins. “Look again.”

Later, during team cooldown, Paige finishes her reps and jogs straight to you. Doesn’t even grab a towel first.

You hand her one anyway.

She dabs her face and says, “Can we run that pick split tomorrow? The one we talked about?”

You nod. “I’ll draw it up tonight.”

She nudges you lightly with her hip. “Add a note that says ‘tell her she’s brilliant’.”

You roll your eyes. “Noted.”

The gym’s closed. The team had morning practice and mandatory lift. Most of the players have left for the day.

You’re not supposed to be here. Not technically. But Paige had asked. Just thirty minutes, she said. Just to walk through that new screen sequence you diagrammed.

So here you are.

You both are.

No cameras. No coaches. Just the echo of sneakers on hardwood and the sound of Paige’s soft exhale as she resets for the fifteenth time.

You're seated cross-legged on the court with your notes spread around you like a campfire circle. She’s walking herself through spacing patterns and foot placement, talking aloud so you can listen for her rhythm.

She misses a step. You catch it instantly.

“Too wide on your pivot,” you murmur.

She sighs. “I felt that.”

“You’re rushing the top foot.”

She stops. Tilts her head.

“You know what helps that?” she says.

You squint up at her. “What?”

She walks over slowly, takes your hand, and gently pulls you to your feet. “You.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want me to demo it?”

“No,” she says, slipping her arms around your waist. “I want a break.”

You laugh quietly. “Oh, so now I’m a human timeout?”

“You’re my entire recovery system.”

Her fingers hook into the waistband of your joggers. Her forehead presses to yours. Her body still humming from the workout, but her expression soft, flushed in a different way.

You lean in. Her lips brush yours once—slow, careful, reverent.

Then again—deeper this time, her hand rising to the back of your neck. She kisses you like you’re the rhythm she’s trying to memorize.

You sigh against her mouth.

“Oh my god—”

Both your heads whip toward the doorway.

Maddy is frozen, Gatorade bottle in one hand, gym bag slung over her shoulder, eyes wide.

You and Paige instantly take a step apart—hands dropping, space returning.

Too late.

“I didn’t see anything,” Maddy says, blinking. “Except I very much did.”

Paige groans quietly. “Madd…”

Maddy grins—messy, teasing, thrilled. “So… I was right.”

You rub the back of your neck. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Too late. They’re all going to scream.”

Paige groans louder, dragging a hand down her face. “God.”

Maddy holds up her free hand like a scout’s oath. “I’ll be cool. But like… this is kinda iconic.”

She starts to back out the door, already pulling out her phone.

“Mad—no texts!” Paige calls.

“I can’t hear you,” she says, vanishing around the corner.

Paige is curled up beside you on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, scrolling through the messages with an embarrassed smile.

“Maddy said she saw a spark fly across the court when we kissed,” she says.

“She’s being dramatic,” you mumble, stroking her leg.

“She also said we owe her wedding invites.”

You snort. “Tell her she’s not getting a plus one.”

Paige laughs softly, then sobers. “You okay with this?”

You glance down at her. “The team knowing?”

She nods.

You rest your hand over her heart. “Feels like they always did.”

She smiles again. Quieter. More secure.

“Yeah,” she says. “I think so too.”

The Wings take the game by six.

Paige finishes with 24 points and 9 assists, carving up the fourth quarter with her signature midrange feints and off-ball creativity. You watched it all from the second row behind the bench, scribbling down your notes in silence, even though you knew everything you needed to say could be told with just a look.

After the buzzer, she walks off the court with her arm draped over DiJonai’s shoulder—grinning, exhausted, and glowing in that way she only does when she’s earned it.

She doesn’t come straight to you like she normally would. She gives you a look—soft, quiet, later.

You nod. Clipboard tight in hand.

Because you both know what’s next.

She’s in front of the mic, jersey swapped for a Wings hoodie, hair damp, eyes focused. The media crowd is familiar now—reporters from local outlets, national sportswriters, and the occasional YouTube basketball guy with a small mic clipped to his collar.

She’s answered three questions already. All standard.

“What did you see on that final possession?” “How has your chemistry with Arike developed this early in the season?” “What’s been the biggest adjustment from college ball to the league?”

She’s smooth. Thoughtful. Never rehearsed, but always real.

And then it comes.

From a new face in the third row. Out-of-town badge. Small outlet, but a big voice.

“Paige—this one’s off-court. There’s been a lot of speculation online recently about your relationship with your player development assistant, Y/N L/N.”

You feel your stomach go tight, even from where you stand just off to the side.

“There are viral clips. Locker room comments. A lot of fans believe you two are more than just athlete and trainer. Do you have any response to that?”

The room doesn’t gasp—but it shifts. Everyone suddenly leans in.

And Paige?

She blinks. Once. Steadies herself. And answers.

Calm. Clear. Unapologetic.

“I think it’s interesting that when a male player trains with someone for years and builds trust with them, no one asks these questions.”

The room holds its breath.

“But when it’s two women, it’s suddenly public interest. People want a headline. A label. Something to screenshot.”

She pauses. Looks directly at the reporter. Not angry—just... resolute.

“Y/N has been by my side since I was fifteen. She's shaped how I play. How I think the game. Whether we’re running drills or sharing silence, she's never once wanted credit for what I’ve done.”

Paige turns her head slightly.

Just enough to catch you in her peripheral vision. She doesn’t smile. But her voice softens.

“So no, I don’t owe anyone a label. But I will say this. Whatever she is to me, it’s not just anything.”

Silence. Then cameras flash. Keys click. But no one says anything else.

You’re leaning against the cool concrete wall when she steps out.

She doesn’t speak right away. Just walks toward you, tugging her hoodie sleeves down like she’s trying to hide how tense her hands are.

You hand her a water bottle. “You handled that well.”

“I hated that,” she mutters.

You nod. “I know.”

She leans her shoulder into yours. “Was I too blunt?”

“No,” you say. “You were just... honest.”

Paige swallows, jaw tightening. “They’ll make it into something it’s not.”

“Let them try,” you say. “They still won’t know us.”

She looks at you now. Really looks.

“Do you wish I’d said more?”

You shake your head.

“You said exactly enough.”

Dallas Wings vs. Connecticut Sun

The crowd is loud before the game even starts.

It's not UConn-blue anymore — this arena bleeds orange tonight. Still, there are kids in Bueckers jerseys lining the front rows. Signs that say "Hopkins to Storrs to the League". A smattering of navy Wings hats in the crowd.

You keep your head down as you walk out of the tunnel with the coaching staff. No clipboard today — not your usual one. Today it’s a tablet. Branded Wings quarter-zip. You’re seated next to the coaches. Front row. You’re not just behind the bench anymore. You’re in it.

“It’s a full-circle night for Paige Bueckers — back in Connecticut, where she built her legend at UConn. But let’s talk about something fans might not know…”

“You mean Y/N L/N?”

“Exactly. She’s seated right there on the bench now. Officially added to the Wings’ player development staff this season, but unofficially, she's been Bueckers’ personal trainer and basketball mind since Hopkins High School.”

“I’ve seen it up close. She has one of the sharpest eyes for the game I’ve ever encountered. Doesn’t just do physical development — she reads the floor like a coach with fifteen years in.”

“And you’ll notice it tonight — every timeout, every free throw, every adjustment, Paige checks in with her. Watch for it.”

Timeout. Wings down by 5.

The team gathers. Coach Koclanes talks to the core five. But Paige doesn’t go to him first.

She walks straight to you.

“Every time I fight over the screen, they’re slipping the weak side,” she says, breath quick but eyes locked on yours.

You nod, tapping a graphic on your tablet. “They’re baiting you. Your stunt’s coming too early. Let them close the lane, then rotate.”

“Got it.”

“On offense, they’re loading strong side on you. Reverse it. Skip it before the trap comes.”

“Copy.”

She claps your shoulder once and jogs back to the huddle.

Behind you, one of the coaches mutters, “It’s scary how fast she processes.”

You smile. “She’s just wired that way.”

The arena quiets slightly as Connecticut sets up at the line.

You see Paige backpedal toward your end of the bench. The ref glances at her, but she makes it quick.

“They’re stacking corner help every time we swing,” she says.

You lean forward. “Because you’re not cutting sharp enough off the split. Give the help something to respect.”

She nods, jaw set. “Backdoor?”

You whisper, “Only if Arike clears. They’re watching her eyes.”

Paige jogs back on-court, whispering something to Arike as the free throw bounces off the rim.

The very next play — skip pass. Fake drive. Backdoor cut. Paige lays it in.

Your stylus marks the play with a bright green tag.

“And there it is. Every time she glances at the sideline, it’s Y/N she’s looking for.”

“And you know what’s incredible? They’re not even speaking full sentences anymore. It’s absolutely fluid. That’s chemistry you build over years.”

“There are players who have court vision, and then there are those with a court language. Bueckers and L/N speak their own.”

It’s close. Wings up by 2. Sun with the ball.

Timeout.

Everyone’s shouting. The crowd is on their feet.

But Paige walks directly to you.

“What do I do?” she asks, fast, fierce.

You point at the digital clipboard. “Let her take baseline. You don’t need the steal. You need the stop.”

She nods. “You sure?”

“Always.”

She gets the stop.

The Wings win.

And as the clock winds down and the buzzer sounds, Paige doesn’t jump. Doesn’t throw her arms up. Doesn’t scan the crowd.

She turns.

And she finds you.

She walks straight to you and pulls you in with one hand behind your neck, pressing her forehead against yours again—this time longer. This time with the world watching.

The locker room is buzzing with celebration.

Not wild. Not champagne-and-speakers. Just a grounded, satisfied kind of joy. The kind that comes when you win with poise. When strategy trumps talent. When Paige Bueckers gets the stop that seals the game in the city where she once built her name.

You’re standing off to the side, tablet in hand, quietly reviewing clips when you hear her voice behind you.

“Hey.”

You turn. She’s fresh out of the postgame cooldown, hair tied back again, towel looped around her neck. Her cheeks are still pink from the adrenaline.

“That cut worked,” she says, low so only you hear.

You nod. “Knew it would.”

“I’ll say it in every language if I have to,” she adds, stepping a little closer. “But thank you.”

You smile, voice soft. “You already say it in mine.”

She holds your gaze like she wants to say something else—but then a media assistant calls out, “Bueckers — press in two!”

She winks once. “Meet you after.”

The postgame presser is at full capacity. More media than usual. Because this one? This wasn’t just a win. This was a return.

Paige walks in wearing her warm-up jacket zipped to her collarbone, no jewelry, no flash. Just locked in. She slides into the chair beside Coach Koclanes, a bottle of water in front of her.

First few questions are standard.

“What did it feel like playing back in Connecticut?” “Did you hear the crowd reaction when you checked in?” “What were you seeing on that final defensive play?” “How do you feel still being undefeated at Mohegan Sun?”

She answers each calmly. Firmly. Head high. Shoulders square.

From a reporter in the second row—

“Paige, we saw a lot of sideline communication between you and your player development assistant, Y/N L/N. This isn’t the first time, but it was definitely the most visible. Can you speak to that relationship and how it affects your in-game decisions?”

A pause. The room quiets. Coach shifts slightly in his seat but says nothing.

Paige exhales once through her nose — not annoyed. Just... thoughtful.

Then she looks directly at the reporter and begins.

“Y/N isn’t just a development assistant. She’s my basketball brain outside my body.”

A few eyebrows lift. Cameras click.

“She knows my tendencies, my triggers, my adjustments. We’ve worked together since high school. Every version of my game — from Minnesota to UConn to the league — she’s helped shape.”

Another pause. The air is listening harder now.

“So yeah, we talk every timeout. Every free throw. Every off-ball set. It’s not just strategy. It’s trust.”

Her voice softens slightly.

“I trust her eyes more than film. More than instinct. She sees the angles I don’t.”

Someone clears their throat. Another reporter chimes in.

“There’s been public speculation that your connection goes beyond coaching. Are you prepared to comment on that?”

Paige tilts her head just slightly — and then gives the smallest smile you’ve seen all day.

“I’m prepared to say that what we have is ours. And whatever anyone thinks they see... I hope they understand it’s built on years of work, not just a few looks during timeouts.”

She shrugs once.

“If it looks like more, maybe that’s because it is. But it’s not for you. It’s for us.”

Silence.

And then, one lone voice, “Well said.”

You’re waiting just past the press hallway, tablet shut down, credential badge dangling loosely from your neck. Paige rounds the corner still in her team gear, phone buzzing in her hand, mouth curled into a small, tired smile.

She walks up slowly, voice low.

“You hear that?”

You nod. “Every word.”

“Too much?”

You shake your head.

“It was perfect.”

She steps in, arms sliding around your waist, and rests her forehead lightly against yours — again, the way she always does when the world outside is loud and this little pocket of quiet is the only thing real.

You whisper, “They’ll keep asking.”

Paige whispers back, “Let ’em. We’ll keep answering our way.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #wnba x reader #dallas wings #lesbian #wlw #wuh luh wuh

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svt-luna · 7 months ago

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

Nana Tour with SEVENTEEN

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

wc: 21.6k

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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solxamber · 6 months ago

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Leona, romantic, and “September” by James Arthur. Idk, I just always strongly associated this song with him.

"I'm gonna love you for the rest of my life" || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: September by James Arthur

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 580

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Fluff, Established Relationship

Leona remembers seeing you around back when you were both young. At first, he didn't think much of you—just another face in the sea of students, another voice in the endless chatter that he had no interest in.

But the more he saw you, the more you lingered in his mind, the more he felt like he had to talk to you.

Not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

So he does what any self-respecting, prideful man would do—he bribes Ruggie to drag you to the botanical gardens under some flimsy excuse, and just so happens to be there himself.

"What a coincidence," he drawls, feigning disinterest, stretching out on the grass like he owns the place. But when you plop down next to him, start talking about something mundane yet completely captivating, he knows.

It’s instant. The way he falls. The way you slip into his life so effortlessly, laughing at his sarcasm, stealing his fries, treating him like he’s just Leona and not the second prince of some far-off kingdom.

Even when he scoffs, even when he refuses to admit it at first, you are his friend. You are his.

And then, one day, you’re both sprawled across his bed in a way that feels so natural, as if you belong there. He’s half on top of you, lazy and heavy with the weight of an afternoon nap, and you’re giggling at something on your phone. The sound is warm, golden, wrapping around his heart like the sun after a storm. It’s infuriating.

He can’t let this go on. He can’t let another day pass without making you his.

So he grumbles out a question, as if he’s annoyed by his own need for you. “Go out with me.” His cheeks are flushed, his tail stiff and betraying him, and for a second, he almost takes it back—almost—but then you look at him like he hung the damn stars, and you say yes.

And when he kisses you for the first time, slow and deep and possessive, he thinks—maybe—he can finally look in the mirror and like who he is.

Every weekend, he waits for you. Waits for you to finish your errands, your work, your whatever so you can spend the whole day with him. Because he’s stronger with you, and weaker without you. You’re his soulmate, his lover, his home.

And when the weight of his title presses down on him, when the whispers of "never good enough" creep in, you’re there. Always. Holding him in the dark, chasing away his demons with nothing but a smile and the unshakable belief that he is yours.

Sometimes, he gets mad. He can’t help it. Sometimes, he snaps even at you. Sometimes, he’s too jaded, too bitter, too tired of the expectations forced onto him since birth.

But then you have the audacity to smile at him, that infuriatingly sweet smile, and he wants to drag you back to bed and keep you there until the world forgets both of you exist.

Until he can hear nothing but your laughter and the soft, whispered confessions you think he doesn’t catch when you think he’s asleep.

He’s going to love you for the rest of his life.

And as he lays beside you now, watching your peaceful expression as you sleep, his fingers ghost over the ring he keeps hidden in his bedside drawer.

He can’t wait to make you his family. And for you to make him yours.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ valentine's event #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #leona kingscholar x you #leona x reader #leona kingscholar #leona

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annievrse · 7 months ago

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happy new year!

roronoa zoro x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: watching explosions of colour in the sky on the night the year changes from old to new… but something else is changing too. c/w: so extremely self-ship coded, she/her, no use of y/n, ‘pretty girl’ aka zoro’s fave pet name for fem!reader, one sex joke, alcohol a/n: happy new year!! i started writing this in september but never posted it, so i changed the occasion and speedran to finish it so it would be ready for nye. i hope you guys enjoy it!! see y’all next year ;)

“Here, let me—“

“Wha—?” Zoro ducks away when he sees your hands nearing his collarbones, his palms covering the sides of his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not gonna tickle you, you freak,” tilting your head in annoyance, you sigh, hand falling to your sides. “Your collar’s messed up.”

“Oh,” Zoro stands up straight and steps toward you, shoving his chest in your face. You go to step away but are pulled closer to him when Zoro grips your hips and grunts in irritation. A giggle bubbles in the back of your throat. “You don’t need to go that far away to fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you raise your arms again and pull at the fabric to right it. Zoro’s breaths are heavy and warm against your forehead, and you refrain from peering up at him, knowing what will happen if you do. Your fingers knock his earrings gently, and the sound, combined with the silence, makes a shiver go down Zoro's spine.

The girl's quarters of the ship are quiet, unlike the boy's quarters, which are overly rambunctious at all times of the day. The perfect hideaway for the pair of you while the rest of your crew gets ready for the explosion of colours in the sky. A fleeting moment of peace and privacy amid the usual chaos of the strawhats.

You stand like this for a while. His collar has long been fixed, yet your hands remain firm on his collarbones, smoothing the fabric. You’ve forced him into his only suit, one that strains against his broad biceps and deliciously thick thighs.

Zoro exhales deeply and drops a kiss on your hair, his fingers dancing on your spine, the backless dress doing wonders for your figure.

"We should hurry up," He mumbles against your scalp, making no moves to do so. "Who knows what those idiots are up to."

You laugh breathlessly and nod, shrugging one shoulder hopelessly. "Surely, they'll be fine without us for once."

Zoro hums in disagreement but dips his head down, nudging your nose with his. "Doubt it."

You roll your eyes and press your mouth against his. Zoro inhales sharply and squeezes your sides, lifting you up against him.

"Anything you want tonight, I—"

"—they're down here having sex!"

You jump away from your boyfriend, accidentally biting his bottom lip when the wooden door slams against the wall. Your eyebrows furrow at the familiar yell of your captain, your mind still hazy.

"Literally what, moron?" You don't even see Zoro's mood shift; his face has already morphed into his usual scowl before you can comprehend what's happening.

"Fuck," Zoro mumbles as an afterthought, his thumb coming up to wipe the dot of blood collecting on his lip. He throws you a heated glance, and you try to ignore the connotations behind his look in front of your captain.

Luffy stands in the doorway proudly, sporting a suit jacket and his usual denim shorts, his scar on full display. "No wonder they're not helping!"

You feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment as your mind finally catches up to what he initially claimed. "Luffy—"

"Luffy, get out! No boys allowed in the girl's quarters!" Nami's voice echoes down the hall, and the younger boy's mouth opens to respond. But before he can, Nami stands beside him and eyes you and Zoro wearily.

Her shimmering green mini dress reflects the warm glow of the lamp in the corner, and she looks as dazzling as she always does.

"Get upstairs! You need to move the dining table," Nami barks at Zoro, who rolls his eyes and leaves you standing there, shoulder-checking Luffy as he passes.

“Can’t that damn cook do it?” He mumbles as he walks through the doorway, sending you a transient glance of annoyance—not at you, never at you. You smile warmly, ignoring the glare Nami gives you.

"Go!" Nami snaps at Luffy, who salutes and stretches his arm down the hall. And from the strangled yelp that follows, you know he's grabbed Zoro by the throat. Nami kicks Luffy's shin, and he cackles before shortening his arm and flying to meet Zoro wherever he stands.

"And as for you," Nami points at you. "Robin and I are sitting in the Crow’s Nest. C’mon.”

—

With a glass of something sparkling in your hand, you lean back and watch the stars twinkle. The island a few hundred metres away is alive with rambunctious laughter and squeals of joy, and the music that echos across the water makes you eager to dance.

“If you want to leave,” Robin side-eyes you, ever the observer. “You can.”

You shake your head, a small laugh falling from your lips. “It’s fine. I’m sure he’s having fun with the boys.”

“You know he’s not,” Nami quips, sipping from her glass. “He’s probably in a corner, sulking with his sake.”

The image in your head of Zoro doing so is not an unusual one, but it makes you giggle nonetheless. “I don’t want to ditch you guys; the show is about to start.”

Nami flicks her wrist. “We don’t want you here.”

Robin rolls her lips between her teeth, a telltale sign that she’s a little intoxicated. “Yeah, go to the back of the ship; I’ve heard there’s something waiting for you.”

“Guys,” You sigh, butterflies swarming your stomach.

“Go!” Nami almost yells, her cheeks pink. “He made us do all this for you anyway.”

Robin slaps the navigator’s shoulder and laughs, and you know she’s trying to keep her composure. She says your name softly and nods. “He’s waiting.”

You twist your lips and place your drink on the wooden floor. “Thank you.”

They brush you off and urge you to leave, both grinning wide with sparkles in their eyes.

The trip down the ladder is a shaky one, thanks to the sparkling wine the girls had been feeding you. Your hands may be steady, but your heart thunders loudly in your ears.

When your feet hit the deck, you see Luffy and the crew laughing on the grass, their backs to you and attention on nothing but the drinks in their hands and the anticipation of the incoming celebration.

You follow Robin’s instructions and make your way to the back of the ship, your footfalls quiet. Peering around the corner, you see familiar green hair.

Zoro paces back and forth, whispering things far too quiet for you to hear from here. You take the opportunity to sneak up behind him.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

You sigh with exasperation, though there’s no irritation in your tone. “Seriously?”

Zoro smiles; a real smile that reaches his eyes despite one of them being permanently closed. You grin back, forever grateful that he chooses to present himself in such a way to you—he’s utterly and irrevocably beautiful.

He shrugs, reaching for your waist before pulling you into him. “I always know where you are.”

You shove your face into his neck, cheeks warming at his admission. “You’re weird.”

Zoro scoffs, the action vibrating through his chest. “Yeah, okay. You’re the one who says she loves me so… who’s the weird one now?”

You peer up at him, eyes wide with adoration. “Still you.”

All he does is hum and drop his lips to your forehead. “Guess I am considering I love you more.”

“Hey!” You giggle, pulling your face back. Zoro’s dark iris is obscured by his blown out pupil, and the tender look in his eye makes you shiver. You sigh after calming down. “Why’d you wanna meet out here?”

He tilts his head. “Thought it’d be a good spot to watch those things in the sky… you know, since you’ve been talking about them so much.”

There’s something he’s not telling you, but his intention is enough to make your heart flutter tenfold.

“And, I, uh—”

“It’s starting!”

You ignore the yells from your captain and focus on Zoro, who is trying to formulate what he wants to say. He averts his eye when you give him a look that tells him to keep going.

Bang!

You jump in surprise at the explosion behind you, but the urge to turn and watch doesn’t cross your mind, not when Zoro is before you.

He looks up, and you can see the reflection of the pink sparkles lighting up the sky in his eye.

You nudge him. “What do you wanna say?”

He lets out a breathy, nervous laugh, and looks at your hairline. His fingers move quickly to brush away the stray hairs that got swept out of place by the breeze.

“It’s nothing, just that I—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

This time, Zoro startles. He blinks into the night once more, and blues and greens reflect off the glassiness of his eye.

“Zo.”

His attention returns to you, and you squeeze his clammy hand.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zoro’s inhale is sharp as he nods, cheeks blooming with a pink hue.

“I love you,” He says, swallowing thickly. The cheers and laughter of your crew fade into nothing, and the explosions of colour in the night don’t dare deter you from the light expression on Zoro’s face.

“You know I’m bad at this shit,” He grumbles, brushing a pretend eyelash from your cheekbone. “Words.”

You laugh softly. “I won’t disagree, but you know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.”

You wait patiently for him to continue, and the joy around you is nothing compared to what you feel inside.

“I, uh,” He finally says, digging his hand in his pocket. Your heart starts racing before you can even fathom what’s happening. “I found this on an island a few years back.”

From his slacks, Zoro pulls out a gold ring. Its intricate diamonds and elegant design cause your breath to catch in your throat, and you feel your bottom lip start to quiver. He grips the metal a little too tight between his fingertips and it catches the orange hue of the fizzing lights.

“It’s not an engagement ring, or whatever Nami keeps telling me to get you, but a promise ring.”

Your chest aches and tears blur your vision as your shaky fingers hover in the small space between you. Zoro’s own trembling hands slide the ring onto your ring finger, and it’s a perfect fit.

“A promise that no matter what happens to us, to our crew, I will always be with you. You’ve got me for as long as you want me. There’s nobody else I wanna do this shit with.”

There’s an unspoken vow—every broken part, every scar, every piece of him that’s been lost along the way of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman, it’s yours.

“Zoro…”

His hands cover your cheeks and he smiles. You blink away your tears, choking out a laugh of pure happiness. Zoro’s palms smooth down your hair and return to your cheeks before he leans in close.

“Don’t get mushy on me,” He whispers, breath hot on your lips. You giggle as his thumbs wipe away the wetness under your eyes. “You’re the one thing in this world I’m not willing to lose, alright? I’ll fight for you, protect you, be there when you need me—whatever.”

His words are quiet, almost lost in the moment, but the weight of them hangs between you—real, undeniable, and from the deepest depths of his soul.

“You mean to world to me.”

You sniffle and lean forward to capture his lips with yours. His wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you into him. He kisses you like it’s the last time, but that reality is far from where you stand now.

“I love you,” You whisper against his mouth. It doesn’t feel like much after he’s poured his soul out to you, but Zoro doesn’t need it. He already knows, from the way your eyes shine and your heart pounds relentlessly against his chest, that you feel the same. He always knows.

“Did he do it?”

Zoro groans into your mouth but refuses to pull away. The crew gathers on the deck behind you, all snickering but with hearts full of warmth for their crew mates.

When you lean back, Zoro chases, and the world fades back in. The whole crew stands there, shaking with anticipation before Luffy breaks first, flinging himself at you. He wraps his arms around you and Zoro multiple times, squeezing you together as the rest of the crew, all eight of them, rush to embrace you too.

The salty air and the dying bursts of coloured light make the night feel like a transition; one that marks the end of another year, and the start of a new, exciting embodiment of raw commitment.

And in the midst of the group hug, Zoro finds your lips again. All that matters is the quiet weight of the promise he’s just made, and the ring on your finger that shines, not in the warm light of the hanging lanterns, but with the love and respect it’s been holding for years, waiting for this moment.

#hehehehehee happy new year!!!!#one piece #roronoa zoro x fem!reader #roronoa zoro imagine #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x you #zoro x reader #zoro imagine #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #— ann writes!

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choochooboss · 8 months ago

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Sketch dump! Vol. 5

September 2022 (Part 1/2)

The first piece on top summarised my cosplay rush for Tracon 2022! The second is an old idea for a charm.

"SURPRISE!!"

Back in 2022 I hosted an art raffle for reaching 777 followers on Twitter! The winner would get their submas themed idea realised (which was their friends throwing a surprise party for the twins!). I wanted to make a little comic and have the bosses walk in their office where depot agents, Elesa, Drayden, Skyla, Clay etc. would be waiting with decorations and treats and games.

Emmet is all smiles of course while Ingo gets so emotional he could only whisper a "super bravo".

Not really headcanons anymore but still funny ideas.

1. Emmet gets clumsy when off-rhythm! He starts walking in curves if there is nobody else around to match his rhythm with.

2. Emmet spaces out/forgets to say things aloud when someone speaks too long or when things go off-script! His thinking gets interrupted easily.

3. Ingo sometimes bumps into doors because he is too used to automatic doors!

4. When things go off-script Ingo speaks too much and rushes in straight lines"

Also my little inexpensive sketchbook & my trusty tools! Mechanical pencil and eraser pen are life when scribbling my skrimblos smaller than a postage stamp!

More Ingo~ I utilise a wide range of sources for references, including CSP's poseable 3D models, they can come really handy with perspectives and proportions!

The second piece is my very first attempt at cosplay in Tracon 2022: Blingo! I walked in with a sequin hat, leather jacket, leather pants and high heel patent leather boots.

The hardest part of cosplaying Ingo is remembering NOT to smile ahaha!

Some hairstyle tests

I drew these for a huge submas art collaboration over Twitter hosted by @/mimizukeii!! It was technically my first art collab before I started arranging them myself with Aggie/Magma.

While looking for train related songs I found this cute nursery rhyme to go with the marching:

"Over the mountains,

Over the plains,

Over the rivers,

Here come the trains.

Carrying passengers,

Carrying mail,

Bringing their precious loads In without fail"

I wanted to compare these silly twins, planning to do something more silly with them later. Also a sketch of @/fukurow's butler designs I never finished.. The capes compliment them so well, I love them!!

Prequel to this piece! Emmet is so confident in himself he thinks Pierce wants to learn from him but is invited for a duet on the stage instead!!

Emmet has really great voice actors in Pokemas! I especially love how his english VA gives him that bri'ish/posh/sophisticated vibe while also soft and melodic! I know for SURE this VA/Emmet can sing, I can show you later!

One of my favourite sketches!! I wanted to add a bunch of characters in the BG reacting to this sonic blast of emotion over a performance!

Heyyy it's the smile buddies comic!! I really hope Ingo gets to interact with Marnie in Pokemas one day!!

I feel Ingo's eyes in the mirror panel is a little off in the final comic, I meant to keep it softer like in the sketch!

It's Nimbasa trio!! Idea inspired by submas EX uniform colors. Might continue this later!

Some BG tests for this piece! Compositing is hard but absolutely worth the effort, it can make a huge difference in the appeal of your piece!!

Practise piece drawing over a photo I thought was cool! I want to get more experimental with lighting and perspective!

'How's it hanging bro?' Who hung him up there anyway??

Sketch for this arguing scene! Something REALLY BAD needs to happen for them to end up that tense! Even if I want to present them close to the canon material I still want to put them in really challenging situations to see how far I can push their emotions!

Thank you so much for coming all the way down here!! This set was pretty loaded, I hope you enjoyed scrolling through all this ahah!

Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 4: July 2022 Part 2

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eternal-evergreens · 8 months ago

Text

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - IV"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 4.8k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Non/Con, Mental Breakdown, Hallucinations, Implied rape of a background character, Virginity Kinks, Age Gaps, Choking, Gagging, Bondage

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

It is Saturday, the 10th of September, 2022. -It has been 6 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,799 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wide awake Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are troubled Control: You are scared Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You clock into the spa as soon as it opens, your mind a haze as you greet the receptionist.

Then, you blink, and you’re outside. It’s dark.

…What?

You turn around. You’re right outside the spa, but the closed sign is up. Furrowing your brow, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone.

21:06

Something else catches your eye.

Current funds: £1,799

Woah, you must have worked all day. But you don’t remember even a single client. You check your current condition again, but you aren’t under the influence of any drugs or alcohol. Could it be psychological? Could it be that your stress has been rising, causing you to disassociate and lose time?

You should probably check yourself into a hospital, but that’s not exactly an option here. Feeling tense and nervous, you put your phone back into your bag, only to brush your hands against something cold and metallic. You pull it out, and it’s a watch. It looks expensive.

Fuck, did you steal this? You shove it back into your bag and feel your hand brush against even more metal. You duck into an alleyway and empty your purse. Aside from the watch, you found a ring, two necklaces, and another less-expensive-looking watch. You bite your thumb as you check your journal.

You are carrying: £3,210 in stolen goods.

Your eyes bulge. You have to return these, you have to—

You hear a loud crash from somewhere not too far from you. Startled, you whip your head up to see a hooded figure standing over an overturned trashcan. The figure is walking your way, so you grab the stolen things off the floor and run.

You aren’t sure where you’re going or for how long, but by the time you’re finally sure you lost them, you’re standing on Cliff Street. You use a streetlight as support while you catch your breath, trying to think of what you can do.

First, you’ll have to go back to the spa tomorrow. You’ll have to come up with something, some excuse or reason or justification, and get the receptionist to go back and check who came in that day, call each of them and then ask if they’ve lost anything, and then-

You hear a sniffle and look up. It’s coming from the pillory. There’s a woman locked there, her bottom half completely exposed. She’s trying to stifle her sobs, trying to make herself look smaller. She’s trying to hide.

Your heart throbs as you approach. She hears your footsteps, and a look of sheer petrification overcomes her expression. You still your movements.

>Help the girl —Trauma ++Stress >Leave +Trauma +Stress

“It’s okay,” you say softly. The woman looks up at you with a scared expression, and you realize you were wrong in your description. This isn’t a woman, but a girl your age. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She eyes you warily, and you look around. There’s no one here, so you pull your shirt off and approach the girl, who looks like she might be on the verge of a breakdown.

“It’s okay,” you say as you kneel to tie your shirt around her waist. You notice something sticky on her skin, and you feel your heart sink even further. You feel your face crease as you imagine everything she must have gone through until now. You want to help this girl.

You brush yourself off as you stand, suddenly aware of your shirtlessness. There’s still no one around, but you know how dangerous this is. You’re basically a sitting duck, as things are. ++Stress You smile at the girl. “I’ll be back,” you say. She nods slightly, looking confused.

You all but run back to the orphanage, where you change your shirt and grab some spare clothes. Then, you head over to the local convenience store to pick up some water and snacks. It only takes 15 minutes, and soon, you’re back in front of the girl.

“I brought you some food and water, as well as some actual clothes. I, uh, also brought some underwear in case you wanted some. It’s clean, but I get it if you don’t want to touch it. Oh! I picked up some wipes, too. I’d have to clean you, though.” Your face feels a little hot with embarrassment, but you try not to show it.

The girl, looking quite bashful, nods with a pink face. “I’d really appreciate that,” she says. You nod and begin to wipe her down, avoiding the sensitive areas. Then, you help her put on your clothes and help her with the snacks and water. She looks much better by the end of it.

“Thank you,” the girl says softly. “I’d almost forgotten there were nice people in this town.” You smile at her. “You don’t even know what I did, but you helped me anyway.”

“I don’t need to,” you say firmly. “No one deserves to be treated like this.” She smiles at you. A real, genuine smile. You feel like you’ve done something worth doing tonight. —Trauma

“Thank you again,” she says, looking at the ground.

“Of course,” you say. “How much longer do you have to be in there?”

“Still another two hours. I’ve been out here for eighteen already.” She looks to the side. “Got caught stealing.” You feel a chill wash over you as your bag seems to double in weight.

“...What did you steal?”

“A watch, among some other things.”

“Huh?” Your heart begins to beat violently in your chest as pressure engulfs your head. You can’t move. Oxygen becomes hard to come by as your ears ring and your head spins. You feel dizzy like you might fall. But your body doesn’t move.

The girl’s face contorts horrifically as she screams out in agony, her skin melting and bubbling. You see horns begin to poke out from under her skin as her eyes fall back into her head and disappear. You hear fire crackling in your ears, your eyes so wide they’re sore as the scene in front of you plays out. There’s fire everywhere, the girl looks like the devil and—

She stops convulsing, and the world goes quiet. The last thing you want is to get closer, but you’re not in control of your own body. You approach carefully, hesitantly. The girl’s head snaps to you.

She’s wearing your face. +++Trauma +++Stress

You start screaming. You scream and scream, your lungs burning and every muscle in your face throbbing as sheer and utter terror overtakes your senses.

You’re still thrashing when you finally come to your senses, your mouth open in an ‘O’ shape. Your jaw is sore, and you’re in an alley on the ground, drenched in sweat and dry heaving.

You check your phone.

21:11

Feeling battered and exhausted, you stand up and brush yourself off before heading home, where you take a long, hot bath. By the time you’re out, it’s nearly midnight. Already dressed in your pajamas, you drag yourself back to your bed and collapse into it. You think about everything you’ve been through since coming here—those damned fragments you have to collect and now a psychotic episode.

You think about the fragment you just collected and the pandora’s box of worms that comes with it. You open your phone and stare at the screen, your mind both empty and overflowing as your eyes trail the words in front of you. You feel numb every time you look at it, a sinking feeling in your stomach you’re becoming all too familiar with.

Sighing, you push the racing thoughts out of your mind, knowing you’ll get no answers tonight.

You roll over and go to sleep, though you sleep very poorly.

—————————

It is Sunday, the 11th of September, 2022. -It has been 7 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,799 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are tense Trauma: You are disturbed Control: You are scared Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You’re awoken by a loud rapping on your door. You blearily get up to check, but the nuisance has already barged in.

“Time to pay up,” Bailey says. You nod and hand him the money.

“Good. You came through. Next week I want £300.”

You nod slightly, and he leaves. You roll over and go back to sleep. By the time you wake up, it’s 09:36, and the spa is open. You debate in your head over whether or not you should clock in, knowing what happened yesterday. You have enough money to be good on the payment for next week, and even the next two weeks after that, but complacency could get you sold as pudding if you’re not careful, and you have no idea what kind of expenses you’ll run into in the future.

Feeling a little like you might be making a bad call, you ready yourself to go to work. When you enter the spa, the receptionist greets you cheerfully.

“I’m glad you came in today,” he says. “Business has really improved since you started working here. People keep asking for you.”

“They do?” You feel like someone just dumped a bucket of cold water over your head. You know they aren’t asking for your skills. The receptionist is about to answer when he gets a call and shoos you away, so you decide to drop it and head in.

Your first client is obviously eyeing you up, but doesn’t try anything. He tips okay. +£60

Your second client tries to get you to undress with her, but doesn’t do anything when you refuse. She tips well. +£120

Your third client doesn’t even greet you before he’s trying to take off your clothes and touch you! He lunges for you and grasps your arms in his hands as he pushes you onto the table. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he says, raspy and lowly. “Waited for hours just to reserve your time. This is happening.” ++Stress

You struggle under his arms, but he’s too strong. He leans in for a kiss, but you turn your head away.

Not one to be discouraged, however, he goes for your neck instead, licking and sucking on your skin in a way much worse than if he had just kissed you normally.

You go limp, and he moves a hand from your arm to the hem of your skirt, lifting it to expose your panties. You use your now-free arm to poke him in the eyes, causing him to stagger back off of you. You waste no time jumping off the table, grabbing your bag, and running outside.

You duck into a nearby alley to catch your breath.

You hate this place. You hate this place so much. You need a break, you need to go somewhere. Do something. You need to—

Your mouth is cold. You blink, and realize you’re sitting in a booth, ice coffee in your hand and the sounds of a cafe buzzing around you.

Shit. You just lost time again, didn’t you? Furrowing your brow, you rummage around your bag for your phone and check the time. It’s only been half an hour. Half an hour in which you could have done literally anything and would have no idea.

…You need to relax.

You lean back in your chair, forcing your muscles to relax as you try to take in the aroma and atmosphere around you. You take a slow sip of your coffee, but your stress doesn’t fade. There’s a slightly tingling sensation across the back of your neck, something you’ve felt before. Something is watching you. +Awareness

You glance around the cafe. A hooded kid in a medical mask is sitting across the cafe, seemingly engrossed in his phone. It’s Kylar.

You finish your drink and leave quickly, hoping Kylar won’t follow you.

The hairs on your neck stand up the whole way to the pub, and don’t leave until you’re sitting down across from Landry.

“This is quite the haul,” he says, handing you £3,210. “I hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I hope so, too.”

—————————

Standing outside the pub, you stare down at your quest menu.

Side quests >Buy a better bed Funds needed: £2400 Optional: Decorate your room to match your taste. Funds needed: ??? Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Penalty: None Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside.

You need that stress and trauma decay. You don’t know if it’ll help with the amnesia or dissociation or whatever it is, but it’s the only thing you can think of, so you buy a bus ticket to the shopping center, making a beeline straight toward the furniture store.

The bed is easy enough to find, there’s only one two single models. You buy the more expensive one, since it’s the only one labeld as comfortable. You look at the bedding next, comparing various blanket textures and sheet designs. You try to envision what everything would look like together, and eventually pick a set you think mix well. Wallpapers and posters are next. You try to pick out designs that aren’t phallic, but they’re a little hard to find. Still, you’re starting to have fun, and you feel the ghost of a smile form on your lips as you picture what your new room will look like.

Thinking back, you’ve been doing a pretty good job for yourself. It’s been a whole week, and you still haven’t been assaulted. You managed to establish dominance over Kylar and gain a steady supply of pepper spray at the same time. And now, here you are, doing something completely domestic in a depraved game modded to be even worse. You feel proud for having adjusted so well so far and confident that you’ll finish your quests and make it home in record time.

You pick up a few other things you like and have room for and then head to the register to check out. The entire purchase is £2,709, leaving you with £4,780 left over. Not bad.

Your phone buzzes.

Quest completed! Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside. Congratulations on completing your quest! Your new bed will be installed automatically, but bedding, posters, and the like will need to be installed manually.

So this game grants small mercies after all. Getting the bed set up would have been the hardest part, and by leaving the rest to you, you get full creative control over where you want things to go. Smiling, you climb onto a bus and head back to the orphanage, where you spend the next few hours setting everything up.

You step back and admire your work. It isn’t perfect. There are things you had to compromise on, ideas you had to discard. But it’s good. It looks like something you would’ve liked as a kid, back when you didn’t have as much freedom to decorate your room as you did after moving out. It’s nostalgic, in a way.

You feel refreshed. -Stress -Trauma

Your tiny room has now become a tiny home. You may now “reminisce” once a day for a small decrease in stress and trauma.

You lay down on your new bed, muscles finally relaxing after days of being on edge. You allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of being comfortable for once. You know you aren’t safe here, not really. You could wake up to someone on top of you at any time, but right now, that possibility feels so far away. -Awareness

Your eyes droop, and you soon enter a deep slumber.

—————————

Blearily, you open your eyes to a dark hospital room, your phone on the desk beside you. Though still a bit sore, you roll over and grab your phone, checking the time.

It is Friday, the 9th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £314 Pain: You are upset Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are placid Trauma: You are disturbed Control: You are scared Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged 02:07 You’ve unlocked a fragment.

Your eyes land on the notification under the time, and you open it.

Fragment 3: Your recent encounters with so many people have opened your eyes to the way of the world. The attention focused on you is not normal. Your special trait has become visible. +++Awareness

Special trait? This probably isn’t good.

Your stomach drops.

Cursed - Something special has taken an interest in you. Your luck depends solely on this entity’s whims. Purity is drained nightly.

Some…thing? Something like what? Is it the Wraith? Something else?

What does it mean? Is it related to the temple? You feel like there’s something you’re forgetting, but your head hurts too much. There’s a pressure in your head, like you’ve just been plunged underwater. Everything is quiet around you, and yet things have never felt louder. The sensation drowns out anything else, and you collapse onto the ground, somehow having moved from your place on the bed.

You think you dreamed of something, but the details are lost. When you check the time it’s 19:38. You slept for six hours. You feel refreshed, though a little thrown off.

Deciding that you need to stretch your legs, you put on your shoes and get up. The walk is nice enough, though it’s a little chilly. You’re about to turn around and head back when a fancy car stops by next to you, and the driver's side window rolls down. “I was hoping to spot you,” Avery says.

For fucks sake, it’s a Monday. He’s only supposed to bother the player on Saturdays.

“I’m going to…an event tonight. Would you care to join me?” Fuck, that’s not one of his lines, is it? You smile awkwardly.

“Is it formal? I’m afraid I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Well, it helps that we’re right by the shopping center then, doesn’t it?”

“Huh? But-” Avery has already turned off his car and hopped out.

“Why don’t we have a look around together? Don’t worry, I’ll pay.” You stare at Avery. He smiles at you. It’s all you can do to smile back.

“...How could I say no?”

Avery takes you back into the shopping mall, where you enter the clothing store. He picks out a skimpy leather dress for you and asks you to try it on. You don’t want to anger him, so you put it on. When you emerge from the changing room, he’s holding up two pairs of heels.

“These have a strap, so they’ll stay on easier,” Avery says, holding up a pair of kitten heels. “On the other hand,” he picks up a pair of court heels. “These are preferred amongst certain company. Both are acceptable, however.”

“Couldn’t I wear flats?” You ask. Avery barks out a laugh.

“My dear, you simply don’t wear flats when you’re out with me,” he says. You don’t press the issue. As you try on both heels, Avery moves to look at the lingerie. +Stress He pauses as he browses through the various panties and stockings. “On second thought,” he says. “Perhaps you don’t need anything under it.” +++Stress

Avery buys the clothes and makes you change into them, instructing you to fold your old clothes and hand them to him with your underwear on top. You do, feeling absolutely humiliated. -Control

You let Avery lead you back to his car, where he drives both of you to the flats. You recognize this event. Suddenly, you wish you had chosen the court heels. At least those you could kick off and make a run for it.

Still, this isn’t the worst thing that could possibly happen to you, you suppose. Of the several ways this night could end, many possibilities don’t include brutal rape and violence happening to yourself or others. You just have to shoot for one of those, you think to yourself, trying to breathe.

Avery leads you to the apartment building with a lotus knob and knocks. Bailey answers the door, and Avery brings out his hand to shake. Bailey takes it, but his eyes never leave your form. No one says anything as Bailey leads you and Avery inside to where Quinn and Leighton are already sitting.

From there, the date goes more or less how you remember it happening in the original. They ask you to fetch drinks for them. You smile and nod.

"Brandy," Quinn says. "Just how I like it." + Love -Quinn's card skill

Bailey sniffs his drink before taking a sip. He doesn't comment. Leighton takes a sip of his without looking. Avery is the last to drink. He peers at the liquid and takes a sip.

"A good choice," he says to Bailey. -Avery's card skill +Endearment

Everyone bets £100. Bailey takes a sip of his drink. Avery, Leighton, and Quinn fold immediately, and you wonder if this is one of Bailey’s tells. His hand is good but not great. A bluff, then.

"It's proper the first win should go to the host," Quinn says. "The night is young yet."

Bailey instructs you to make yourself useful and clean something. You polish the silverware behind Avery. It’s pretty fancy stuff. You resist the urge to make a comment about how glad you are that your rent is being used on such worthwhile expenses. Avery and Leighton chatter about some party behind you. When you’re done, the silverware looks no different, probably because you did it wrong intentionally. Fuck you, Bailey.

A snake slithers out from some crevice somewhere. You would have jumped, but you had seen it out of the corner of your eye earlier. Avery, Quinn, and Leighton aren’t as lucky, however, and their chances of winning soon plummet as they fluster. Bailey explains the snake is for catching mice as it slithers onto the table and coils around itself. Everyone but yourself and Bailey seem to be a bit more on edge for the remainder of the game. ++Bailey’s card skill

Bailey glances at the clock. “One more,” he says. “I have somewhere to be.”

"If this is the last game, we should make it interesting," Avery says, throwing a large wad of cash onto the table. Quinn and Leighton match the stack, but Bailey shakes his head.

“I don’t have cash to spare,” he says. Quinn coughs, and looks at you.

"The girl is with me," Avery says, voice nearly trembling from barely-contained rage.

"The girl is with you," Bailey says. "But she belongs to me." No one says anything for a moment until Quinn breaks the silence.

"We're friends here," he says in a lower tone, leaning towards Avery. "Let's not ruin it." Avery’s gaze remains fixed on Bailey.

"Fine, are you wagering the girl or not?" Bailey hesitates, looking from the cash on the table to the cards in his hands. You suppose you should be flattered he’s considering not prostituting you.

"I'll wager the girl for one evening. Deluxe rules." He looks at you. "Climb on." Already having predicted this, you shrug and hop up.

The game is unnaturally tense, even considering all the money on the line. Each player continuously glances up from their cards to look at you. They seem focused on something, but neither the cards nor the money seem to be the object of their attention.

Feeling uneasy, you begin to debate how likely you’d be able to successfully undo the straps to both your heels, kick them off, and then run all the way from the flats to the orphanage at night, where everyone knows you’ll be heading towards.

You stay seated. Bailey wins.

Avery looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel, with an actual forehead vein bulging on the side of his head. Quinn looks dispirited, and Leighton looks annoyed. No one so much as glances at the money they’ve lost, their gazes all transfixed on you, even as they walk out the door.

Once everyone is gone, Bailey gestures for you to follow him. He brings you back to his car, holding open the door for you. When you look at him as if he had just grown three heads he simply smiles. The expression doesn’t suit him. “So you don’t run away.” +Stress

Fighting the urge to bolt in heels, you force a nod and step in the car, warily eyeing Bailey as if he might attack you.

To your surprise, the normal event with Bailey never occurs, and he simply drives you back to the orphanage without any stops or detours. When the car is parked, you unbuckle yourself and try to open the door but are met with resistance.

“You locked me in,” you say, smiling awkwardly as you gesture to the door. Bailey smiles.

“I know,” he says, getting out of the vehicle and walking over to your side of the car. ++Stress

You’re on your feet before you even register the sound of the door being unlocked, scrambling backward into the driver’s side seat, not caring if your heels scratch the expensive leather. It’s all in vain, however, as Bailey catches your foot and drags you out of the car. You’re thrown onto the ground by Bailey’s feet, where he then grabs you by the hair and lifts your head up.

“I’ve been meaning to replace those seats,” he says, face close to yours. “But I could never justify spending the extra cash. But now, I don’t have to. Since you’ll be paying for it,” he growls, grip on your scalp tightening.

“And I know just how to make you pay,” he says, dragging you by your hair into the orphanage.

He leads you to your room. The one you just finished setting up. You don’t even have time to react before he’s slamming the door behind you and throwing you onto the bed.

It hits you, then. Just what he was planning to do to you. You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner.

Sure, it’d be out of character, normally, but you aren’t in the normal game. You feel lightheaded as he pushes up your leather skirt, revealing your bare cunt. “No panties? Guess you were planning on working hard tonight,” he says, breath on your ear. +Jealousy

You feel frozen, and it isn’t until a sizeable drop of saliva hits your clit that you jump up into action, immediately thrashing in his hold and screaming for help.

He’s faster than you, though, and catches your mouth before you can so much as get a word out. With his other hand, he loosens his tie and removes it from his neck. He stuffs it in your mouth and restrains your arm with the one he’d been holding your mouth with. You try to wriggle out of his hold, but soon, he’s got both of your arms tied behind your back with a belt. He looks down at you, face inches from yours, with a blank expression. “Behave,” he says. “Don’t make me hurt you.” You manage to spit the tie out into his face, and he slaps you hard.

“I don’t have to be nice,” he reminds you, grabbing a fistful of your hair. He releases you, and you try to scream, but his hand is already on your neck, pressing down hard against your jugular. You struggle against your restraints, but it’s no use. You can hardly breathe. You flail wildly from underneath Bailey, but the pressure on your neck makes it hard to think coherently. Bailey seems to have no trouble fending you off, even finding time to push down your top and reveal your breasts, leaning back to admire them before giving them a quick slap. You now lay under him, completely helpless and exposed. And as you realize that you’ve spent all your air fighting, you hear the sound of a zipper being undone as your vision blurs.

—————————

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dreamescapeswriting · 10 months ago

Text

BTS Reaction || You're Friends With Benefits and you're Pregnant

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

SEOKJIN:

You were sitting across from Jin, your hands trembling slightly as you muster the courage to tell him the news. it was something you'd been meaning to do for a few weeks now but every time you'd tried to do it you'd lost all of your courage.

"Jin..." You whisper a little. His warm smile faded as soon as he saw the seriousness in your expression. The two of you had been friends for years and he knew how to read you like a book.

"I need to tell you something important." You started a little and he leaned in slightly, concern etched on his face.

"What is it? You know you can tell me anything." You take a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest. You knew you could tell him anything but that didn't make what you needed to tell him any easier to say.

"I'm pregnant." For a moment, Jin is silent, his eyes widening as he processes your words. You can see the surprise flash across his face, but it quickly gives way to a calm, thoughtful expression. He inhales deeply, letting the news settle before responding.

"Okay," he says, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

"Okay? T-That's all you have to say?!" Your voice cracked as you let out some of your own panic but Jin took your hand in his and gently soothed your skin a little.

"Let me finish," He laughs softly as he looks at you,

"This is unexpected, but we're going to get through this." he squeezed your hand a little as he looked at you.

"I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. We’ll figure this out together, step by step." You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he was already thinking ahead, trying to be strong for you.

"We need to talk about what you want," he continues softly. He didn't want to force you into keeping the baby or force you into not keeping them. He was going to be there for you no matter what you wanted.

"Whatever you decide, I'll support you 100%. We don’t have to rush into anything right now. We can take our time to figure out what’s best for you, for us, and for the baby." Jin’s calmness made you feel better as you nodded at him.

"I want this...I-I want the baby." You whipped as he nodded, bringing you into his arms.

"We’ll get through this together. A mini me or you would be cute to have around," he promises you as you giggle a little.

YOONGI:

You and Yoongi are sitting in his studio, the soft hum of music playing in the background as he tinkers with some tracks. The atmosphere is relaxed, but your growing anxiety makes it hard for you to stay calm. Yoongi knew it wasn't like you to be quiet, and he frowned, glancing over at you with a concerned look.

"You’re quiet," he observes, as he looks at his computer. The two of you had planned to go to dinner but he was working late. You take a deep breath, your heart pounding as you try to find the right words. This was something that wasn't expected, the two of you were just supposed to have sex and nothing more and yet now everything was going to be changing.

"Yoongi, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s... important." He turns his chair to face you fully, sensing the seriousness in your voice. His usual laid-back expression shifts slightly as concern creeps in.

"What is it?" he asks, his tone calm but tinged with a subtle tension.

"You know you can tell me anything." He finished,

"I’m pregnant," you say, the words coming out in a rush before you lose your nerve.

For a moment, the room falls into a heavy silence. Yoongi just stares at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes widen slightly, but his face remains largely impassive, his usual calm exterior giving little away. He blinks a few times, his mind clearly working to process the unexpected news.

"Pregnant?" he finally repeats, his voice quiet, almost as if he’s speaking to himself. He leans back in his chair, his gaze drifting away from you as he tries to make sense of what you’ve just told him.

You watch as his expression darkens, his usual calmness giving way to a troubled look.

"This… this wasn’t supposed to happen," he mutters, his voice low and strained.

"We were just… It wasn’t meant to get this complicated." There’s a coldness in his tone that you’ve never heard before, a detachment that makes your heart sink. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a deep sigh as he stares at the floor, his thoughts clearly racing.

"I don’t know if I’m ready for this," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I don’t even know where to begin." He whispered. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s struggling to keep his emotions in check. Yoongi was always been someone who values control, and this news has clearly thrown him off balance. He’s retreating into himself, his mind turning over the implications of what you’ve just told him.

"Yoongi, I’m scared too," you say softly, hoping to reach him through the wall he’s starting to build. You weren't going to let him shut down.

"But we need to figure this out together. I can’t do this alone." His gaze finally shifts back to you, and you can see the turmoil in his eyes. There’s a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or guilt—but it’s quickly swallowed up by the storm of emotions he’s trying to suppress.

"I know," he says after a long pause, his voice rough around the edges.

"I just… I need time to think. This is a lot to take in." He stands up, pacing the small space as he tries to wrap his head around the situation. His usual confidence is shaken, replaced by a deep uncertainty that weighs heavily on him. But despite his inner turmoil, there’s still a part of him that cares about you, that wants to do the right thing, even if he’s not sure what that is yet.

"I need time." He repeated and you could hear the distance in his tone, a hesitation that lingers, but there’s also a flicker of determination in his eyes. Your eyes teared up as you realised you were probably going to have to do this all alone.

"But I’m not going anywhere. We’ll talk more, figure out what’s next… together." He whispered as he sat back down,

"We're doing this together, no matter what." He promises, kissing your hand softly.

HOSEOK:

You and Hoseok were sitting at your apartment, you'd invited him around like you did most weekends and he'd been ready for it. What he hadn't been ready for was the serious look on your face as you sat across from him,

"Hoseok, I need to tell you something… It’s big." His smile fades as he focuses entirely on you, worry now evident in his eyes. "

What is it? You sick? I know you've been off for a while, did you finally go to the doctor?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with anxiety.

"I’m pregnant." You rushed out. The words hang in the air for a moment as he processes what you just said. His eyes widen in surprise, and you can see a mix of emotions flashing across his face—shock, concern, and something else, something softer.

"Pregnant?" he repeats, almost as if testing the word out. He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.

"Wow, okay… this is... a lot to take in." He whispered as you nodded a little. You knew it was going to be a lot for him.

He falls silent for a moment, his mind clearly racing. But then he looks at you with that familiar warmth in his eyes, the hint of a smile forming at the corners of his lips as he reaches for your hand.

"I won’t lie, I’m a little scared," he admits, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability.

"But… we’ll get through this, okay? It might not be what we planned, but that doesn’t mean it can’t work out. We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time." You can see the concern still lingering in his eyes, but he’s trying his best to stay positive, and to be your source of strength in this unexpected situation.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand.

"Are you okay? This must be really overwhelming for you." You nod, a small smile breaking through your nervousness as you see how hard he’s trying to stay optimistic for you.

"I’m okay, just… scared, I guess."

"Me too," he admits, his smile widening just a bit.

"But you know what? We’re a team, right? And teams stick together, no matter what." He smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and bringing you into a warm hug,

"We’ll take it one day at a time," he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with determination.

"We're gonna have a baby," you whisper as he runs his hand down to your stomach, touching it softly and smiling brightly.

"I'm gonna be a dad." He grins down at you, kissing you softly.

NAMJOON:

When you'd invited Namjoon around he thought it was for the same reason he'd been needing to talk to you,

"We'll go at the same time," he chuckles as you nod a little. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before speaking.

"I’m pregnant."

"I love you-" Your heart launched into your throat as you stared at Namjoon. For a moment, Namjoon is silent, his mind clearly working at a million miles an hour. His initial reaction is one of shock, his eyes widening as he absorbs the news. He quickly pulls himself together, though, and his expression shifts to one of focused determination.

"Wow... okay, this changes everything," he says, his voice calm but thoughtful. He pauses, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

"First, how are you feeling? Are you okay?" You nod, relieved that he’s handling the situation so thoughtfully.

"I’m… I’m okay, just really overwhelmed." He leans back, exhaling slowly as he runs a hand through his hair.

"I get that. This is a lot to take in, for both of us." His tone is measured, as if he’s already planning the next steps in his mind.

"We need to talk about all our options. I want to make sure you feel supported, whatever you decide. This isn’t just about us anymore—it’s about what’s best for you and the baby." Namjoon’s mind is clearly in overdrive, but he’s making a conscious effort to remain calm and focused for your sake. He leans forward, his gaze serious yet caring.

"Joonie..." You trail off, remembering what he had said to you, he looked at you, forgetting for a moment he'd confessed that he loved you.

"I love you too." you smile, kissing him softly as you touch his hand on your stomach and relax a little. Knowing that you weren't alone was going to help a lot with all of this.

JIMIN:

You and Jimin are sitting in your living room, the atmosphere a mix of nervous excitement and underlying tension. You’ve just told him that you’re pregnant, and while you’re were still trying to process the news, Jimin’s reaction was… intense.

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he just stares at you in shock. Then, almost as if a switch flips, he jumps up from the couch, his mind racing a mile a minute.

"Oh my god, you’re pregnant!" he exclaims, running a hand through his hair.

"We need to get everything ready. You have to start taking vitamins, right? And what about your diet? Are you getting enough nutrients? Oh god, we need to make sure you’re eating all the right things!"

He starts pacing back and forth, his face a mixture of concern and sheer panic.

"Do we have a plan? What about the doctor? You need to see a doctor, like, right now. And we don’t even have a nursery set up! How are we going to do this? I don’t even know the first thing about babies! Should I be reading books? I need to read books, don’t I?" You watch him, trying to keep a straight face, but the sight of him spiralling into a full-blown panic is both endearing and amusing. A giggle escapes your lips, and soon you’re laughing, the sound light and infectious. Jimin stops mid-pace, turning to look at you with wide eyes.

"Why are you laughing?" he asks, genuinely puzzled.

"This is serious! We have so much to do!" He panicked at you and you couldn't help but laugh harder. You shake your head, still giggling as you reach out to take his hand, pulling him back down to the couch beside you.

"Jimin, calm down," you say, trying to suppress another laugh.

"We don’t have to do everything all at once. We’ll figure it out together." You smiled at him, out of the two of you, you thought you would be the one to react like this. He looks at you, his expression softening as he realizes how worked up he’s gotten.

"I’m just… I don’t want to mess this up," he admits, his voice small and vulnerable. "I want to make sure you’re okay, that the baby’s okay. I’m freaking out because… I care so much." You smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"I know you do. But you don’t have to do it all by yourself. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?" He nods, taking a deep breath as he tries to calm himself down. But as he looks at you, something shifts in his expression—something deeper, more serious. He hesitates for a moment as if weighing his words, before finally speaking.

"I need to tell you something," he says quietly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I’ve been freaking out, not just because of the baby, but because… this is so much more to me than just being friends." Your breath catches in your throat as he continues, his voice trembling slightly. Your heart raced as you stared at him,

"I love you," he confesses, his eyes shining with emotion. "Not just as a friend, but as something more. I think I’ve loved you for a while now, but I didn’t know how to say it. And now, with this… I can’t keep it to myself anymore." For a moment, the room is silent, the weight of his words hanging between you. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face as you reach up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin.

"I love you too, Jimin," you whisper, your voice full of warmth.

"I think I’ve felt this way for a long time too." Relief floods his face, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His eyes soften as he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

"We’re going to be okay," he murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with newfound confidence. "We’ll figure this out together. And I promise, I’ll be there for you and our baby every step of the way." He runs his hands over your stomach.

TAEHYUNG:

You and Taehyung are sitting on the bathroom floor, your knees pulled up to your chest as you wait for the pregnancy test results. The silence between you is thick with tension, the air heavy with the gravity of the situation. Taehyung, usually so calm and collected, fidgets beside you, his fingers tapping nervously against the tiles. He glances over at you, his eyes filled with concern.

The two of you had been worried for a while since you'd been sick lately and he was the one that thought of the pregnancy test first.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks softly, breaking the silence. You nod, trying to muster a small smile despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

"I’m okay, just… scared." You admitted. If you were pregnant everything was going to change. It wasn't just going to be sex without strings anymore, There would be A LOT of strings.

Taehyung shifts closer to you, his hand gently finding yours. He squeezes it, his touch warm and reassuring.

"I know this is scary," he says, his voice steady despite the fear you can see lurking in his eyes.

"But whatever happens, I’m here for you. I mean it." You look at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you see is sincerity.

"Taehyung, this… this wasn’t part of the plan. We were just… you know." He nods, his expression serious but tender.

"I know. We started this as friends with benefits, and I thought I could keep it casual, but… it’s never been just that for me." His voice softens, a hint of vulnerability creeping in.

"I’ve cared about you more than I ever let on. And now, with this… it just makes me realize how much I want to be there for you. For us." His words hang in the air, their weight settling into the pit of your stomach alongside the anxiety.

"You really mean that?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly as tears begin to run down your cheeks.

"I do," he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours with a determination that leaves no room for doubt.

"No matter what happens—whether the test is positive or negative—I’m in this for the long run. You’re not just someone I’ve been seeing; you’re someone I care about deeply. We’ll figure this out together, okay?"

The timer on your phone buzzes, signalling that the test is ready. Your heart races, but Taehyung’s grip on your hand tightens, grounding you in the moment.

"Whatever that test says," he whispers, his voice calm and soothing,

"We’re going to be okay. We’ll face it together." He nodded at you. Taking a deep breath, you both lean forward to look at the result. As your eyes scan the test, your emotions swell, but before anything else, you feel Taehyung’s arms wrapping around you, pulling you close.

"We’ll be okay. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere." He promised you as you nodded. His words fill you with a sense of security you hadn’t realized you needed, a promise that no matter what the future holds, you won’t face it alone.

JUNGKOOK:

As soon as the words "I'm Pregnant" left your lips it had left Jungkook in a state of shock. You almost worried he'd had a heart attack and you weren't sure what you were meant to be doing.

"Jungkook?" You touched his hand softly and he looked down at your hands that were intertwined together. This whole thing had never meant to end this way and yet here you were. One drunken night, one broken condom later and Jungkook felt his whole world changing. Jungkook’s heart races as the words hit him again and again, he slowly looks up at you.

"Pregnant?" he whispers, almost to himself. His expression shifts from shock to anxiety, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The two of you agreed that this was meant to be something that was only stress relief. Friends with benefits. That was it.

"This wasn’t supposed to happen… I didn’t mean for this to get so complicated." He looks at you with conflicted eyes, struggling between his feelings for you and the fear of what this means for both of your futures.

"What do we do now?" He took your hand in his and squeezed softly, while it might not be what he had planned for you there was no way he was going to let you go through any of this alone. It was the two of you that had created the baby and it was going to be the two of you raising them.

"I wanted to talk to you first, and see what you thought I-I should do." your voice shook a little and he smiled weakly, while it might not have been the best scenario he was happy he was going to be a father.

"Well, we get you booked in with a doctor, we get you all the medications you're gonna need and then we go to every single scan together. Do you wanna know the gender? Do you wanna have a baby shower-" Your hand slowly covered his mouth as you let out a small giggle.

"You want to go through with it then?" You asked him before he nodded behind your hand, a giant smile taking over his face.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

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fiastomatocheek · 5 days ago

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TOO YOUNG TO MATTER

requested: yes | req: angsty request for will smith!! maybe a relationship where the reader is a bit older and will feels anxious about being enough for them. reader babies mack a lot and will gets upset from a combination of insecurity about being younger (ex: “if mack is a baby what am i..”), jealousy of the way reader talks about mack in general (ex: “mack is so grown up now!! he looks so mature), etc and starts avoiding reader instead of talking it out, which makes the reader confused and spend even more time with mack since will is always gone. reader finally confronts will, they fight and spend a day apart but makeup at the end with a cuddle!!

pair: will smith x older f!reader

genre: angst, romance, hurt/comfort, fluff.

warnings: emotional angst, insecurity, jealousy, age gap (implied, not specified), heated argument, brief mention of self-doubt.

summary: you and will have been together for a while now, despite the slight age gap that people love to point out. you’ve always brushed it off, will’s maturity, his heart, his everything has always been enough. but lately, things have shifted. you’re spending more time around mack, your longtime friend, and your casual, affectionate remarks about him don’t go unnoticed. will’s insecurities about his age, about being ‘enough,’ start to eat him alive but instead of talking to you, he pulls away slowly, painfully.

fia’s note: yayyy so happy to be back!! i think i’ll be free until september, so hopefully that means more time to write and (fingers crossed) finally finish all the requests that have been accepted, i’ll also be scrolling through the ask box to see if anything else sparks inspiration so if you’ve sent something before, who knows 👀 as always, please enjoy this fic, and thank you all for being so lovely and patient. love you all sm!!

tagging team fia! — @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @kell9rs @nokiaholland @macka @smiley-roos @silvenyy @bd147ms @voidvannie @itsonlyaddi @puckinghughes @astrotrilogy @definitelynotdomanique

fia’s masterlist | join fia’s taglist | yap & fic

“I swear Mack grew a foot over the summer,”

You say with a quiet laugh, scrolling through the latest team photo from the summer training camp.

“Look at him, he’s all broad-shouldered and serious now. He looks like a real pro.”

Will doesn’t say anything.

You glance up from your phone. He’s sitting on the other side of your living room couch, hood up, one leg bouncing as he stares blankly at the muted TV.

“Will?”

He blinks and shifts like he just remembered he’s supposed to be present.

“What?”

“I said Mack’s all grown up. Doesn’t he look different?”

He shrugs. “I guess.”

You frown. It’s the third time this week he’s shut down on you mid-conversation. You used to joke that he could talk through a commercial break and still make it back before the show resumed. But now? Every word feels like pulling teeth.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

That’s all he gives you. You study him for a second longer of how he’s been wearing the same shirt for two days, how he hasn’t really smiled at you.

You nod slowly and turn back to your phone.

At first, you blame the season. Early practices, post-training fatigue. But then he stops texting you good morning, he skips your Sunday lunch. When he does come over, he barely touches you anymore like his hands used to live on your waist, his thumb always resting at the curve of your back.

Now he sits beside you like you both are nothing.

You tell yourself not to assume.

But when you vent to Mack about it one afternoon at the rink, you feel Will’s gaze burning into you. He doesn’t say anything, just watches as you playfully nudge Mack’s arm and laugh at something stupid he says.

And then later, when you look for Will? He’s gone.

It keeps happening.

You reach out, he pulls away. You text, he leaves you on read. You joke, he gives you silence.

So you lean on what’s familiar, Mack. He’s easy to talk to, unbothered by your spiraling thoughts. He doesn’t flinch when you ask, ‘Am I hard to be with?’ He just says, ‘You’re not hard. You’re just real. And that scares people sometimes.’

You tell Will where you’re going, every time. But it doesn’t stop the pit from growing in your chest.

One night, you’re curled up on your couch in his hoodie and you check your phone again.

Nothing.

Dinner’s cold.

You’d planned it. Lit candles and everything. Told him to come by after practice. He said he would.

But he didn’t.

You call him. No answer.

You see him the next morning in the player’s lounge. He’s laughing with a teammate like nothing’s wrong.

You snap.

“Will.”

He looks over. His smile falters.

You don’t give him time to pretend. You tug him into an empty hallway, voice shaking.

“What’s going on with you?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You’ve been ghosting me for weeks. You bailed on dinner. You don’t talk to me. You barely look at me. So either you’re over this and too cowardly to say it—”

“I’m not over you,” he says, sharp.

“Then what is it?” you demand.

“Because I’m going insane trying to figure it out.”

He runs a hand over his face. “It’s not you.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I’m serious. It’s me, okay? It’s…”

His voice trails off, like he doesn’t know how to say it without sounding pathetic. He looks away.

“It’s the way you talk about Mack.”

“What?”

He exhales like it physically hurts.

“You call him ‘baby Mack,’ and then say he’s grown up, and mature, and strong, and… what am I supposed to be then? If he’s grown up now, if he’s the mature one, and what the hell does that make me?”

You blink, stunned.

Will’s voice a little shakes now. “I know I’m younger than you. I’ve always known. But it’s different when you start sounding like it matters.”

You take a step back. “You really think I see you that way?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters.

“I just know it’s been eating me alive.”

Your eyes sting. “You could’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want to sound insecure.”

“I want your insecurity. I want the messy shit too, Will. That’s what being in a relationship means.”

“I thought I wasn’t enough,” he whispers.

“I thought maybe you were realizing that too.”

The silence between you is unbearable. You look at him, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets, like he’s bracing for heartbreak.

So you say the only thing you can.

“Then you’re an idiot.”

His eyes flash up to yours.

“I chose you,” you say, voice trembling.

“I keep choosing you. And you started acting like I didn’t. You don’t get to punish me for something I never said.”

He nods slowly face crumples. “I know.”

You leave before the tears fall.

After that day, you don’t text, he doesn’t call. Mack asks if you’re okay. You nod, but it’s a lie, the truth is that you cry in the shower.

You sleep in his hoodie but bury it under your pillow the next morning.

You check your phone ten times.

Nothing. Until…

Smitty: Can I come over?

You open the door.

He’s standing there like he hasn’t slept. Eyes red. Shoulders small. No hoodie this time, just a worn t-shirt and the weight of regret.

“I was wrong,” he says softly.

“I was scared, and I acted like a kid. And I made you feel like you didn’t matter and… I hate that.”

Your lip trembles.

“I’ve never felt like this about someone before,” he whispers. “And it made me so fucking afraid of losing you, I started making it happen myself.”

You step forward, your hand finding his.

“I don’t care how old you are,” you say, tears falling freely now.

“I care that you love me. And you do. I know you do.”

“I do,” he breathes, pulling you in, burying his face in your neck.

“God, I do.”

You hold him like the world is ending. And in a way, it is the end of the fear.

You curl into the couch an hour later, legs tangled, limbs heavy with exhaustion. He plays with your fingers like he’s never letting go again.

You whisper, “I’m never calling Mack ‘baby’ again.”

He laughs, just once, muffled against your shoulder.

“That’s not the problem.”

“What is?”

“I just want to be yours,” he murmurs, curling closer. “The way you’re mine.”

“Will, You are,” you whisper, kissing his lip. “You always were.”

#will smith #will smith imagine #will smith imagines #will smith x reader #will smith nhl #will smith x you #will smith x oc #will smith fic #will smith fluff #will smith hockey #will smith x y/n #will smith x fem!reader #will smith x f!reader #will smith fanfic #will smith angst #will smith blurb #will smith one-shot #will smith drabbles #ws

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yoonia · 10 months ago

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blooming wallflowers (m) | knj

⟶ Summary | Your life has been in shambles with only your two sweet girls keeping you strong enough to carry on. It has been a while since the flame of desire you once had within you dim into almost nothing, until the man who spends his life fighting against arson comes into your life (and your two little girls’) only to help light up that fire once again

⟶ Title | Blooming Wallflowers ⟶ Pairings | Kim Namjoon x older female reader ⟶ Genre | Firefighter!Namjoon, Single mother!reader, Smut, Angst ⟶ Word count | 20,800 words ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; allusions of past/toxic relationships, healing, usage of alcohol and drinking, dealing with insecurities, age gap with older female reader (OC is in her mid-30s), trapped in confined spaces; contains explicit smut scenes, including: sexual tension, dirty talk, light restraint, soft dom!Namjoon, switching positions and roles (OC taking control at some point), clothed foreplay, grinding, dry humping, thigh riding, implied body worship, breasts play, fingering, clit play, pussy slapping, riding, grinding, semi-public sex (does dining room count?), pet names, groping, biting, edging, oral sex (female receiving), minor hand-job, panty ripping, clit biting, panty sniffing, praise kink, hair pulling, rough sex, protective sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, overstimulation. ⟶ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @KimCheeHoo | I’m so sorry this took me forever to finish. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your endless support. I hope you’ll enjoy this story. Have fun reading! ⟶ Story Note 1 | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs). This story has POV switches, and this is roughly edited, so forgive me for any mistakes. Banner design made by me, age warning divider by @/cafekitsune | Posted in: September 25th, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Also written as part of the @bangtanwritershq “Got A Secret, Can You Keep It?” Third Quarter 2024 writing event! ⟡ AU type: Hold Me Tight - Dilf/Milf AU ⟡ Themes: Age Gap, Situationship ⟡ Inclusions: Edging, Fingering, Angst/Hurt, Restraints

On some days, you would feel like you are finally getting your shit together.

But today is not one of those days.

“Mommy! Hana is trying to bite me!” You hear your oldest whine as she hugs the pancake batter box to her chest. Shaking your head, you can only guess that her sister has been trying to take that box away from her hands.

“No, I did not!” Hana, your youngest daughter argues back, “Mommy, Suzy won’t let me use the scanning thingy.”

Suzy narrows her eyes and scoffs. She has been doing this expression a lot lately. It took you weeks after you first saw her making such an expression to figure out that she had somehow gotten it from you. Hana’s new biting habit, however, is something that you have yet to figure out how and when it started.

“You’re such a baby,” Suzy says, rolling her eyes, which only riles up her sister more.

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are. That’s why you can’t do this. Babies don’t do what grown-ups do.”

Sullen, Hana props her hands on her hips and lifts her chin, as if it would make her look bigger against her sister while whining, “But you’re not a grown-up too!”

Watching them go at each other, you cannot decide whether you want to laugh or cry.

Hana’s attitude reminds you of someone. You, perhaps, no doubt as the only role model she currently has to copy some of that sassy attitude from. You probably should feel embarrassed—deep down, you do, you are somewhere in public, after all—as the girls continue fighting, their voices loud enough to draw some attention, with the addition of being super dramatic about it.

Only for them to have a turn at helping you with the self-checkout counter.

You know the reason why you cannot find it in you to be mad at them. Not when the girls are showing you that they are the perfect carbon copy of you—not that you are the kind to have a tantrum in the middle of the supermarket, at least not at this age—and when they are always full of surprises. And you cannot deny that they are so stinking cute.

Suzy, the bigger one out of the two, is mostly quiet and sweet. As a six-year-old girl, only weeks away towards her seventh, she often makes people think that she is a bit older than she truly is with how calm she acts around others. Until recently, she has always been so shy. But that is only until the moment her little sister starts acting out and then she would react so strongly to her tantrum—just like what she is doing now.

Hana, on the other hand, is more brave and confident, and a bit too smart for her own good. Always so curious and mischievous, and always loves to copy whatever her big sister is up to. And she is always so headstrong that nothing can stop her whenever she wants something.

She just turned four, and you were sure that she could barely speak full sentences just a year ago. That period of time feels so long ago as you watch her arguing with her sister, with perfect sound of mind, clear words and reasonings, a sign that she is growing up a bit too soon.

“Girls, please stop screaming at each other,” you try to calmly separate them.

You have no idea what is happening. Normally, your girls would know perfectly well how to behave. They take great pride in being your ‘little helpers’ and it isn’t rare for you to bring them with you when you are out buying groceries.

For some reason, they have been like this all day. Constantly arguing and making a fuss over everything. Even to the smallest things.

“You can take turns using the scanner. Let Suzy finish scanning the pancake batter, then you can do yours, Hana. Here—”

Reaching into the shopping cart, you grab the box of cookies that you don’t remember placing inside the cart and try to hand it over to Hana. Only for it to slip out of your hand when both Suzy and Hana try to reach for it. Both insisting on taking it and having their turn.

“Motherfucker,” you mutter under your breath as the box slides on the floor, and both girls immediately launch into another series of arguments, blaming each other for dropping the box and getting you angry.

Tears are pooling in the corner of your eyes, and the quick switch of your mood isn’t unnoticeable for your girls as they both grow still. As if they are expecting you to snap. You bite your lips, trying your best not to.

Just as you take a deep breath to compose yourself, a shadow comes to your side, picking up the fallen box and handing it to you.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice speaks, snapping you out of it, only to pull you into a dreamy trance the moment you get a look at his face and see his smile. The dimple on his cheek distracts you from your distraught that your mind becomes numb for a moment.

“Hi there, do you need any help?”

“Uhm, not really. It’s fine,” you answer, barely getting a word out when it feels like your brain has short-circuited. You shake your head, noticing his extended hand, offering you the box that you dropped earlier. “Oh, thank you,” you say to him, smiling apologetically as you take the box from his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure why my girls are acting like this. They’re not usually this dramatic.”

“That’s okay. Kids will be kids, right?” His eyes flicker towards your girls. Suzy, still in shock, is standing right by the cart while clutching the box of pancake batter to her chest, while Hana is clinging to your leg, almost hiding. “I don’t think you remember me, but—” The kind stranger offers the same hand to you to shake as he introduces himself, “I’m Namjoon. I just moved in a couple of doors away.”

Once the information sets in, everything clicks. “Oh, yes. That’s right. I do remember.”

All of a sudden, your memory takes you to last weekend, when you joined a cookout event held by one of your neighbours. The gathering was initially meant to celebrate their 25th anniversary, and you recall how they extended the celebration to welcome the new neighbour arriving in your block. You were so tired that night and were so focused on watching your kids that everything seemed to flash by, but you do recall gossiping with one of your neighbours, Ella—the only other single mom of the group—about how hot and stunning the newcomer looked.

Blinking away the memory, you offer him another smile. “I’m sorry, I think the stress got to me. But I do remember you, although I don’t think we had enough time to chat.”

“It’s fine. I won’t blame you, given the circumstances,” he says, and that cute dimple appears again. He turns to your kids next, bending a bit lower to match their height. “Hi, there. Are you girls trying to help your mom with the checkout?”

Suzy presses her lips together, too shy to speak, but Hana is always happy to offer an answer. “Suzy won’t let me help.” You look down to see her pouting her lips, yet her eyes are still wide, looking curious and intrigued by this friendly stranger. Once again, something that you might share with your girl.

“Well, I haven’t checked out my things and I might need a little help. So why don’t we let your sister help your mom, and you help me with mine?” he offers Hana with a smile as he points at his shopping basket, which is barely half full. Any adult would notice that he wouldn’t be needing much help with them, but Hana immediately perks up at his generous offer.

“Is that really okay with you?” you ask, worrying about troubling him when you barely know him at all and letting your daughter out of your sight.

As if he knows what you are thinking, he points over his shoulder at the next counter, which is only recently vacant. “I’ll take the next counter, so you can see and hear us all the time.”

A sigh of relief escapes you. For some reason, looking at him alone is enough to reassure you and make you trust him. Maybe it’s the dimple. “Right. Okay,” you say to him, nodding. “Go ahead, honey. Help the nice mister with his groceries. But promise me that you’ll be good.”

“‘Kay!” Hana easily agrees, getting overly excited that she has been given something else to do. “I promise, Mommy.”

Find the beauty in the chaos.

You remember reading that sentence somewhere. Perhaps from one of your favourite romance novels or one of those self-help books that your mother bought you during your darkest time.

Each time you are having a hard time, be it from work, from dealing with household chores, or from caring for your daughters, you will always remember those words to keep your composure. Just like how you kept repeating those same words moments ago while you were stressing over your kids, when you tried to remain calm and sane.

You didn’t expect the beauty to come and find you in your chaos instead.

Having someone helping you just when you are starting to lose your calm feels like a blessing from the universe.

Once peace has been regained, everything seems to return back to normal. Almost as if your daughters’ tantrum and fight never happened.

While you work together with Suzy, who is enjoying her role as your little assistant, her smile widening each time the items go through, you can hear the sound of soft giggling from nearby as Hana does the same with her new friend.

And Namjoon, the kind stranger and your saviour of the day, is making it fun by playing a little game with your little girl using the scanner and his groceries, drawing smiles and laughter from Hana, her little drama earlier forgotten. Soon enough, they are done, yet Hana remains by Namjoon’s side, almost clinging to his strong arm as she chatters away while he listens closely, hanging to every word she says.

It appears that your little girl has completely become infatuated with the man. You cannot blame her though, since the man is quite easy in the eye. You have even noticed some of the women passing by looking over, and it surprises you how quickly it is making you feel territorial about him.

“Thank you so much for your help. I truly appreciate it.”

And you mean every word, seeing that not only has he helped solve your little problem with your demanding daughters, he also stays long enough to walk you to your car. If that isn’t enough to make you feel as if you have been transferred into another dimension, he has somehow gotten your daughter lifted in one arm, while he carries his grocery bag in the other.

“It’s nothing, really. I enjoyed talking to your sweet girl,” he says, once again showing his dimple, and you can swear that you are swooning just by the look of it. Perhaps it’s his voice that does it to you; the deep timbre that makes you feel warm inside. It might also be the way he glances at Hana, not even showing any sign that he is getting annoyed for having his evening thwarted by having to deal with little girls and their very disorganised mother.

“I mean it. You could’ve just walked past and didn’t offer anything, but you still did. You’re even walking us out to the car.” You sigh, recalling the bitter memory of the drama earlier. Glancing at him, you realise that Hana has become extremely silent. “Please tell me Hana isn’t falling asleep on your shoulder.”

Namjoon lets out a soft chuckle as he takes a peek at Hana’s face, her cheeks smushed against his broad shoulder as if she has found the perfect place to rest her head on. “I think she’s about to.”

Biting your lips, you hold back the sound that almost comes involuntarily out of you, because you can almost hear your ovaries exploding.

Namjoon helps put Hana into her kiddie seat in the backseat of the car while you strap Suzy in right beside her. “You seem like you’ve done this before,” you let it slip, and you quickly move your hand to cover your mouth. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been so nice and here I am, sounding too presumptuous.”

“It’s okay. Most of my friends have kids, and I’ve helped them once or twice whenever I’m free. I also have a niece from my sister, which gave me a chance to practice.”

You take a peek at his grocery bag and remember what you saw in it—a box of beer, a couple of boxes of microwave dinners, and some snacks—and feel the urge to cook him dinner. Just to pay him a favour.

Yes, that’s what it is. Not that you are eager to have him over for dinner or invite him into your home for anything other than.

The offer is there, hanging at the tip of your tongue. But then you bite your lips, your insecurities and doubts rearing their ugly head, making you feel so small that you take a step back and simply say, “Thank you again. I’m so sorry for all the trouble.”

Namjoon shrugs it off. “It was a pleasure to help.”

Nodding, you look around, trying to find a distraction. You quickly notice that most of the cars parked near yours have gone away. “Are you—where did you park your car?”

The dimple on his cheek appears again when he shows you a bashful smile. “I don’t drive a car, actually,” he says, grinning and rubbing the back of his head. “I rode a bike here.”

“A—bike?” You resist the urge to look around, just to be sure. Riding a bike at this time at night? You have no idea whether to feel amazed or baffled. Perhaps both.

Seeing your reaction makes him laugh, and you somehow decide that you like the sound of it. “Yeah, I always ride a bike to the gym, and I was just heading home from there when I decided to make a quick stop to grab some sustenance for the evening.”

Hiking the grocery bag in his arm higher, Namjoon takes a step back. That is when you notice the bag hanging from his shoulder. The one that wasn’t weighed down by Hana’s little head.

Okay, you have officially decided to be amazed. Is this guy for real?

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around?” He asks, snapping you back to the present before your mind starts picturing him carrying something else on those shoulders.

No, none of it involves you.

Maybe.

You shake your head and muster a smile. “Oh, you betcha. You’ll definitely see us more often. Especially now that Hana has decided to like you.”

You linger at the driver’s side of your car, hands on the door, yet your body refuses to slide in. You have no idea what seems to be drawing you towards him. Whatever it is, it makes you not want to leave.

Namjoon tilts his head, as if noticing your hesitation to leave first. “Go on, I’ll watch you until you’re out there safely.”

You open your mouth, almost ready to tell him to get back on his way before realising that the parking lot is quiet. Too quiet. And you have to admit that ever since you were left with only your two girls, you have been feeling a bit more vulnerable. Choosing to accept his offer of staying until you are safe to go—and feeling warm in the chest for having someone care enough to do so—you nod your head and slip into your car.

Once you are strapped in, you look out the window to wave him goodbye.

“Drive safe,” he says, and then the dimple reappears when he smiles, almost causing you to stutter.

“Yes, um. You too.”

Hana’s eyes flutter open just as Namjoon takes a peek into the backseat window to say goodbye to the girls.

“Bye, Mista Joonie!” she cheerfully shouts, as if she wasn’t falling asleep in his arm just moments ago.

“Goodbye, Mister,” Suzy chimes in with a shy smile, waving her hand at Namjoon which he returns with a small wave.

“I’ll see you girls around!”

Giving him one last wave and a smile, you begin to drive away. You can still see him through the rearview mirror, standing by and watching you go, until you are almost out of the lot and you see his figure running in the distance to get back to his bike. It’s brief, but there is something about this chance encounter that makes you feel bitter about leaving.

Even if, deep down, you know that you will see him again soon.

Perhaps I should’ve offered and invited him for dinner, after all.

There is truly no beauty in this chaos.

Even if there is, it would be impossible for you to see it. Not in moments like this.

It seems like the entire universe is out to get you this week, as nothing seems to be aligning the way it should have. The whole office has been in complete havoc all morning. Typical for Blackwell Press, the publishing company you are working with, to have the final week of the month filled with all the hustle. With everyone getting caught in deadlines, meetings and conference calls held back to back, and your own work piling up, it almost seems impossible for things to get even worse.

But, of course, it eventually did.

Offices don’t randomly get caught on fire during the daytime, when there are people—many of them—inside. Elevators don’t randomly get stuck merely seconds after the fire alarm starts blaring across the building.

Okay, this elevator had gotten stuck before, during that one time some staff were working late at night and the machine suddenly failed to work. Everyone has been joking about it happening again during a busy day, and it feels like karma that it has to happen again now.

But must it happen when you are inside it?

The steady hum of the elevator suddenly turned into a deafening silence just moments ago, and the only thing you can do now is to stand frozen in the flickering light, wondering what is going on. Trapped between floors, the confined space appears in your mind as if closing in on you, the walls shrinking with every breath. The only reprieve you are given is the fact that you are not in it on your own.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, louder than the faint crackle of the intercom as Daniel, the Marketing guy, tries to contact the security staff downstairs through the intercom. His voice remains calm despite the constant crackling sound each time they try to respond, while the other Marketing staff present with you, Jae, has long discarded his suit in his effort to calm himself.

You take shallow breaths to keep yourself from panicking, all while trying to listen to the soft hum of their voices as they talk about what to do, just to keep your mind from wandering towards dark places. Right beside you, Lily, the only member of the Editor team aside yourself, is slowly losing her calm.

At the sudden halt of the elevator, she had reached out to grab the sleeve of your blouse as if searching for support. As seconds tick by, her grip on your sleeve tightens as she tries to control her breath, her eyes locked on the digital screen that is no longer displaying a floor number. And you let her cling to you, even when you feel like you need some added strength for yourself.

It was by mere coincidence that the four of you are stuck here together.

You were the last ones to leave the conference room after the latest meeting, having been the ones responsible for providing the items for the meeting. As fate has it, merely seconds after the doors were closed and the elevator had only started moving, the fire alarm started blaring through the building, and everything came to a halt.

“They’re saying that help is on its way,” says Daniel, relaying the message that he just received from the intercom, his voice becomes the calm in this dire situation.

You find yourself feeling grateful that at least one of you manages to hear the voice coming through the intercom, while you haven’t been able to focus on anything at all. Nothing but the sound of your breathing, the rapid sound of your heartbeat, and at the way the air seems to be growing stale with four people sharing the same oxygen in this tight space.

“What did they say? Is it connected to the fire alarm?” you try to ask, hoping that getting some positive news might help clear your thoughts. Even if just a little.

“No, they didn’t say anything,” Daniel says with a strained voice, possibly due to reality finally sinking in once the intercom stops making any sound to respond.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jae leans back against the metal railing and sighs. “Let’s just hope that we’re not anywhere close to the fire, and it’s just some issues with the electricity,” he adds while trying his best to remain calm. But it doesn’t help make you feel any calmer when his eyes begin wandering at every visible gap and crevice as he speaks, as if making sure that he isn’t seeing any smoke filtering into the elevator.

It makes you feel uneasy to see this. Every bit of calmness that you still have begins chipping away.

Soon, silence falls as everyone tries their best to remain still and composed while waiting for help to come. The minutes drag on like hours, allowing your thoughts to wander into a darker place and letting your doubt and fear sink in.

Is the building really burning?

Why are we stuck here? How long are we supposed to wait?

What happens if help doesn’t come?

What about my girls? What will happen to them if I—

You blink away the tears forming in your eyes at the thought of not returning home to your girls. The thought of leaving them behind hurts you beyond words that you are beginning to lose hope.

Gripping the metal railing behind you tightly, you close your eyes and begin to pray. And you continue to pray as time slips away in the dim, stalled box. Please, you beg whoever is listening. Please, someone—

A loud clatter breaks the silence, causing everyone to jerk their heads up, all eyes looking around to find its source. Right as Jae is about to speak, the clattering stops and comes a muffled voice from somewhere above.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" The voice is clear now, firm but calming, and somewhat familiar. But your mind is a jumbled mess of worry and bewilderment that you cannot figure out the reason why you would think that way.

"Yes!" Jae calls back after looking around, seeing how everyone is stunned to silence, “Yes, we can hear you!”

"Stay calm," the voice calmly instructs from above. “We’re from the firefighters. We're going to get you out."

You feel your knees weakening with relief. Even the others collectively exhale deep sighs of relief and Lily begins to loosen her hold on the sleeve of your blouse. “Okay,” she whispers, steadying herself. “We’re going to be okay.”

Daniel nods when he sees that everyone is calmer. “Okay, we’re ready!” he shouts to the person on the other side as he braces against the cool metal wall.

Soon, you hear a low, scraping sound against the elevator door, followed by the clank of tools echoing through the small chamber. The elevator shirts slightly upon impact, causing everyone to gasp and instinctively start stepping away from the door. Before panic starts to set back in, the firefighter’s voice cuts through again, calming everyone down.

"We're going to manually open the doors. You might feel the elevator shift a little—don't worry. You're safe."

Safe.

The word echoes through your mind, acting like a spell as it brings some reassurance. Something for you to cling to. The clanking sounds of the tool returns just as you start hearing the firefighter coordinating with his team outside.

More creaks and groans follow next, lasting for a short while, and then—light appears. The doors start inching open, revealing the gap between the elevator floor and the hallway above. Two strong hands appear from the gap, pulling the doors wider until there is enough space for you to see your rescuers in their fire gear, all focused and ready to pull everyone out.

One firefighter peeks through the opened doors with a smile. “Alright, who’s up first?”

Both men who are with you step aside, allowing either you or Lily to get out first. So you push Lily forward, letting her get helped first before you take your turn.

"Alright, just one step up," the firefighter says, reaching down with an outstretched hand. "Take my hand, we’ve got you."

You hesitate only for a moment before grasping his hand, his hold feels solid and reassuring. You can feel the strength in his grip as he hoists you up and out of the elevator, the cool rush of fresh air hitting you like a wave of relief. Your legs tremble as they touch solid ground that you nearly fall, yet the kind firefighter holds you up by your arms, keeping you steady as he sets you aside so that the other members of his team can start helping the men out.

"You're okay now," the firefighter says, his voice softer now. "Just breathe. You’re safe."

Nodding, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to feel the weight of your fear melting away. Still unable to speak, you glance back at the elevator, seeing it still wedged between floors, and feel a shiver run through you as you remember that you had just been inside it moments ago. But as you look around, watching the firefighters handling the situation, helping the other three who had just gotten pulled out to get help, the terror that was gripping at you begins to loosen its hold.

With a relieved sigh, you straighten up and turn back to your saviour, the firefighter who had just pulled you out and is still holding you up. The moment you see his face, you finally understand why his voice felt so familiar, and why you could easily find calmness when you first heard him speak.

“Namjoon,” you whisper his name, drawing a smile to his face, showing you the small dimple which had been in your mind ever since the night you last met.

“I told you we’d meet again soon.”

“Is this really necessary?”

You are sitting at the corner of the building’s main lobby, together with the other three who had gotten stuck with you in the elevator. Other staff have also been evacuated here while the firefighters are working to find the source of the problem.

Namely, the reason why the fire alarm went off when there was no sign of the building burning anywhere.

Right by your side, Jae is being checked by the medical team when it is quite obvious that all the man wants to do is to get back to his office.

“You were under duress just moments ago, Sir. We need to check your vitals to make sure that there are no other issues with your body that the incident may have caused before letting you go.”

“Let the boy do his job so we can all go back to the office,” Daniel chimes in just as he is done being checked out and the medic moves to Lily next. The poor girl has yet to regain some colour on her pale face, which makes you worried. “Wait, we’re allowed to go back to our office, right?”

The medical staff nods and talks about waiting until everyone gets clearance from the investigation team before going back up. After getting your turn for the quick check-up, you wander off a bit between the staff lingering around, feeling too restless to sit still.

Before you realise what you are doing, you begin searching for a familiar figure between the throng of people, and you don’t stop until you see a group of firefighters returning to the lobby after checking the floors above. One of them, who appears to be the team leader, walks towards the head of security and the Head Editor waiting close by.

“It came from smoke forming in the break room. Someone must’ve burned something in the microwave or forgot to pull it out and the smoke triggered the alarm,” you hear the team leader speak, explaining the cause of the fire alarm. “The faulty alarm system made the electrical circuit go haywire, which made it seem like it was a bigger fire than it was, and it may have caused the elevator cables to short-circuit.” The team leader hands the draft of their investigation report to the head of security. “The elevator needs to get checked too, since the cables are old. You need to get it done soon.”

The Head Editor—your boss—takes a peek at the report and shakes his head. “I’m gonna need to contact building management—”

His voice begins to fade away when a movement catches your eyes, and you see the person that you have been searching for separating himself from the group to approach you.

Namjoon, who turns out to be your saviour, walks up to you with a smile on his face. “Are you okay?” he asks, the familiar deep timber of his voice brings some warmth to your chest, telling you that this isn’t a figment of your imagination.

“Yeah,” you answer with a small voice, still too dumbfounded to see him standing before you like this. “Uhm, yes, I’m fine. Thank you so much for saving my life.” The moment you say this, a soft giggle slips right out of you. “This makes it the second time this week you’ve come to my rescue.”

Namjoon’s smile widens. “I’m just glad to help.”

He takes a look around. “So, a publishing agency, hmm? What is it exactly that you do here, if I may ask?” His curious gaze lands on you and it feels like he is trying to look into your soul. “I hope it’s okay if I’m curious, since you now know what I do for a living.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t mind at all,” you admit to him before answering, “I’m an editor. I edit manuscripts for upcoming books before they are sent out to print and get officially published. You can say that I’m being paid to read and comment, and gain the extra privilege of reading the books first before everyone else does.”

“That sounds interesting,” he says, raising his brows. “I don’t suppose you’ll be getting back to work after this?”

“I’m not entirely sure. But I don’t think I will.” You glance around at your co-workers. Neither seems to have any desire of going back to work after this whole incident. Sharing the same feeling with the others around you, you feel a strong desire of seeing your girls and spending time with them instead. “I might get back to my office only to pack up my stuff and leave early, pick up Hana from daycare and have a little cool down at the park before we go and pick up her sister. I know she’ll love it.”

At the mention of your girls, Namjoon’s smile softens. “That sounds fun.”

For a moment, it looks as if he wants to say something, only to stop himself when someone from his team calls his name. Namjoon looks over his shoulder and nods. “Unfortunately, one of us has to go back to work,” he says with an apologetic smile, “I’ll see you around. Hopefully, not in another case of emergency?”

You cannot help but smile. “I promise to try and keep things less dramatic next time.”

With a grin on his face, Namjoon turns away and joins the other men from his team as they prepare to leave. You watch him for a moment longer, blending in with the rest of them until someone comes to your side.

“So—” Your friend, Emma, says as she slips her arm around yours. “Who’s the hunk?”

You roll your eyes and smile. “He’s a new neighbour. He helped me the last time we met,” you answer, still stunned with everything that has been going on. You never expected that you would be seeing Namjoon again, and for him to once again save the day for you, “Which makes this the second time he’s helped me.”

“Oooh, sounds like a story premise in the making. It’ll make a good romance prompt, don’t you think?” she teases, “A firefighter who keeps crossing paths with a single mother, saving her during a series of misfortunes and ending up falling in love after the single mom starts paying his goodwill with homecooked meals and other”—she starts wiggling her eyebrows—”raunchy favours.”

You laugh at her comment, even if it doesn’t stop you feeling your cheeks flushing warmly. “Well, I’m not the writer. You can probably pitch that idea to the indie author you’ve been working with.”

“Who? Sana? Hmmm, you’re right. This is kind of her thing. Let me take notes on that,” Emma says as she pulls out her phone and starts tapping on the screen, no doubt writing the idea down on her notes app. “I might advice her to make it extra spicy too.”

As you continue to chat with your friend about books and promising writers, you let her guide you back towards the Editor team who are gathering at one corner of the room with your boss, talking about the incidents and what they are going to do next.

“Are you heading back up?” Emma asks you before you join the others, and you recall your plan about spending the rest of the afternoon with your youngest.

“I’m thinking of grabbing my stuff and head back home if Adam lets us go for the day,” you say to her, referring to your boss, the Head Editor who isn’t showing any sign of wanting to back to work. Much like everyone else. “I’ll probably end up losing sleep again if I want to finish editing tonight.”

You let out a sigh, thinking about the lack of sleep you have been having this week. With new books coming up to prints this month, and new writers struggling to keep up with the schedule that you have set up for them, you have been staying up a lot of nights to catch up with editing.

“But it’s still a lot better to work from home than being stuck here and freaking out about the elevator and false fire alarms all day,” you add, almost like reassuring yourself that it would be okay to sacrifice more sleep for the sake of your sanity.

“Good point. I bet we can sweet talk Adam to let us go early today. I don’t see the point in working when everyone is stressed out anyway,” Emma jokes as she points her chin at Adam, whose eyebrows are furrowed deeply as he continues chatting with his assistants. “At least, thanks to this, I think we deserve to let off some steam. What do you say we go out this Saturday? Grab some drinks, dance a bit, maybe you can practice your flirting skills so you can make use of them the next time you meet up with that cutie again.”

You make a face as you imagine yourself trying to make a move on Namjoon, which only makes her laugh. “I’m serious. He seems nice, aside from being hot, and it’ll be a missed opportunity not to tap that.”

You roll your eyes, but a part of you is starting to consider it. As much as you love being a mother and to dedicate your entire life to your career, you cannot deny that you do want to start dating again.

And the offer to have a night out where you can let off some steam and let loose does sound enticing. Emma and some of your other friends have been asking you to join them to hangout on drink nights lately. But with a lot of deadlines and tight schedules weighing down on you, and no one to watch your girls while you are out, you have been declining their invitation. But after dealing with such a hard week, you feel like you deserve a night to yourself.

“I do need a stiff drink.” Sighing, you remember that your daughters are going to be spending the weekends with your parents. It wouldn’t hurt to use that free time to have some fun for a change instead of staying in. “All right. Count me in.”

Emma cheers. “Great! I’ll call the other girls to see if they’ll come too it so we can all catch up. Chloe called the other day and shared about wanting to see us and give us the souvenirs she got from her trip to Singapore last week, so she’ll probably be excited too,” she says, mentioning another fellow Editor who used to work in the same company as the two of you before moving up to a bigger publishing agency.

Just then, you see a small group of firefighters walking across the lobby, heading towards the front door to leave. Among them is Namjoon, who seems to feel your gaze on him. As you continue watching him walk alongside his team, he suddenly turns. His eyes quickly find you among the crowd lingering in the lobby, his smile growing wider as he raises his hand to wave goodbye.

Emma makes a humming sound when she sees this exchange happening and whispers, “Promise me you’ll tell me more about that hot firefighter of yours.”

Keeping your eyes on Namjoon, you merely smile and wave your hand back at him. “Mhmm. We’ll see.”

It’s a typical Saturday night at Cipher, the rustic-style bar that Namjoon has frequented ever since he moved into the city.

The bar had a different name just a couple of years ago, when Namjoon first came by during one of his previous visits to this city, and with different types of patrons as well. The only thing that remains the same since is the man who is working behind the bar, mixing drinks while chatting with whoever decides to hang around the bartender.

“How is living in the city going for you so far?” Jin, the bartender and owner of the bar, asks Namjoon while he is busy wiping clean glasses between drink orders.

Twisting the glass in his hand, Namjoon shrugs before taking a sip of his whiskey. “Not too bad. I can’t say that I’ve gotten to fit right in with the neighbours. But things are doing good at work, so that’s good enough for now.”

“Seeing anyone already?” Jin teases, making Namjoon laugh.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” He shakes his head. “It might be too soon for me to get back out there into the dating scene.”

“You? Not sure about getting out to meet up with women?” Jin laughs. “Look, I’m not talking about getting into a relationship or finding someone else to propose. I’m talking about having fun. Go pick someone you find attractive tonight and take her home with you. You deserve a good time too, you know.”

Namjoon’s throat feels tight just by hearing that word—propose—only because it brings back a painful memory; of the days filled with fights and shouting matches and distrust, and the desperation he felt to hold on to the hope that things would have gotten better if he chose to settle down.

Shaking the sudden wave of painful memory doesn’t really help when he thinks about opening himself to finding instant pleasure to replace what was lost to him.

Namjoon may not be a stranger to having a one-night stand. But it has been a while since the last time he had one. Those days are way behind him. Long before he decided to settle down, only to have everything fall apart and he was forced to start over in a new place just to survive.

He knows all too well that sharing his bed with someone for one night only does little to fill the void. He knows from what he experienced during his wild days in the past. Physically, he might not have been alone for those short hours, but once it ended, it only made him feel even more lonely than before. At some point, the loneliness started to feel painful. It was what had first led him to start longing for something more.

He once thought that he had found more. Only that it had been with the wrong person, at the wrong time, and he found himself back to square one when everything crumbled.

He took it all thinking that it might have been karma. Bad fate came to bite him on the ass after all the years he had his fun chasing women, breaking hearts here and there, until he got his own heart broken to pieces just months ago.

It was the reality check he needed. One that he has yet to completely recover from. The pain and the memories of the past would sometimes come creeping in, staying with him as if they had been woven into the cracks that were left inside him to remain even after he walked away. It kept chasing him during the nights he spent alone—and he had tried to go back to the game once or twice, only to fail to gain anything out of it—which was why he decided to move away.

Start anew. Meet new people. And then one day, maybe—

He knows that time will eventually help him heal, just like how time has healed many of the scars he had gained through the years of working with danger, chasing fires and pulling people out of crumbling buildings and crashed cars and stuck elevators—a flutter of a smile comes to his face as he recalls the most recent incident—while risking his own body, his life, doing so.

“I can’t believe I’m getting an advice about hooking up from someone like you,” Namjoon chuckles, as he brushes those thoughts away, choosing to tease Jin instead. “Someone who claims to be looking into settling down.”

Jin scoffs. “I’m saying this for your own good.” Propping his elbows on top of the bar counter, Jin leans forward. “You moved here to start over. Not to stop living altogether.”

Namjoon gives him a bitter smile. “Right now, I’m only going to spend the night nursing my drink, enjoying my downtime while I’m off duty.”

Shaking his head, Jin leans back and grabs the empty glasses left behind from the patrons who had just stepped away from the seats next to Namjoon. “Have you thought about my offer?” Jin asks, “About working here on the nights you’re not on night shift? At least, that way, you might open up your eyes and see all the opportunities you can get by standing right here at the bar, talking to people.”

“And live a double life like you do?” Namjoon teases him, which earns him a wink from Jin, before the bartender saunters away as another customer waves him down to order a drink.

Once again left with his own thoughts, Namjoon allows himself to sink back into old memories; all the good and the bad; the long-lost hope that he once had and is now trying to rebuild.

“Wanna have another?” Jin asks when he returns, noticing that Namjoon has almost emptied his glass yet again. “Got enough time to think about what I was saying?”

“Maybe,” Namjoon says as he tosses his drink down. He slides the empty glass back to Jin. “Get me a double of that.”

As Jin steps back to grab his drinks, Namjoon notices the group of patrons crowding nearby spreading away, giving him a clear sight of the bar’s entrance door just as a group of women enters, laughing and chatting with each other without realising the attention they are gaining. All of a sudden, Namjoon feels as if the air around him shifts, right the moment his eyes capture the sight of a familiar smile among the ladies who seem to have come for a good time.

“Can I ask you something?” Namjoon asks Jin when the bartender returns with his drink.

“Sure. Anything.”

“Do you believe in fate?”

Jin laughs. “Me? I can’t really say I don’t believe it, but it’s also not something I’d talk about while tending the bar. Why?”

Namjoon turns back to look at the group of newcomers, his smile growing wider when his eyes meet yours as you look up, as if you can feel his presence as he sits across the room, watching you with a new feeling of hope brewing inside his chest. Life can be cruel sometimes, he silently admits. Yet it seems that life is slowly turning to his favour when you unexpectedly appear right before his eyes, right when he is about to call it a night and return to his lonely home.

“Well, I think I am starting to believe it.”

“I feel like we should make a toast,” Emma starts once you manage to find an open table. She holds up her glass of Cosmo before anyone can start enjoying their drinks.

“What are we toasting for?” Ina asks, just as Emma shouts,

“To friendship.”

Chloe snorts into her drink and shakes her head. “What are we, in high school?”

“Hey, I mean, it works,” Emma whines, “Seeing that we still hang out together even after you and Ina moved to different companies.”

Thinking to yourself, you think about the long week that you just had and offer, “How about a toast to surviving life?”

“I’ll toast to that,” Ina quickly agrees with a nod, and you can totally understand why. Being the oldest one of the group, she has a ton of things on her plate among her busy days at work; from dealing with her teenage boys back home who are beginning to act up; a husband who is busy preparing for his promotion; and a sick cat back home.

“I love my boys, but sometimes I wish they were still the same adorable toddlers who would listen to me instead of fighting me all the time,” she would often say, though you could always see the love in her eyes even as she complains about them. “Are you sure you don’t want to trade them with your girls? Just a night will be enough for me. I promise.”

Chloe raises her glass to join the toast, saying, “I’ll toast to that too. These past few weeks have been pretty crazy for me. I want to stay in bed with my hubby for the next few weeks and not answer any texts or phone calls.”

Her comment makes you want to take a shot of your drink. You shouldn’t feel envious about her having someone waiting for her back home. You shouldn’t wish that you had someone to share your bed with tonight. You really don’t need to think about having to return home tonight alone, to a quiet home, without your girls waiting back home, without anyone keeping you company.

The only thing you fear the most about being left alone with your thoughts is to have the ghosts of your past coming back. Memories always come stronger at nights. Taking you back to the days when you were not alone, yet you are made struggling even harder than you are now when you tried to hold on to the crumbling marriage.

Nobody warned you that falling out of love can be painful. How lonely it made you feel. It scorned you to the point that you nearly sworn yourself off of love, just to keep your heart save. Whatever was left of it.

“Then why are you here hanging with us when you have a husband to cuddle with?” Emma teases, her voice snapping you out of it. Then Chloe leans in to hug you from the side.

“Because I also miss you guys,” she says, drawing everyone’s laughter.

You share a toast with the girls, clinking the glasses as you cheer, followed by a series of shots, and then a new round of drinks is shared at the table. You continue talking, laughing, catching up about life and sharing gossip and fussing over some problematic authors that both Emma and Chloe had to deal with for the past month. By the time the next round of shots arrives at the table, you notice Emma’s eyes looking over your shoulder and grinning at what she sees.

“Aren’t you going to say hi?” she teases, leaning in to make it less obvious that she has been observing the one person that you have been fighting not to look at.

You take a careful sip of your Moscow Mule as you think of an excuse. “We already waved at each other when we first came in.”

Truth be told, you already know that a simple wave was the bare minimum that you could have given him. Seeing Namjoon sitting there at the bar when you first came into this place caught you by surprise that you were left speechless. It was Namjoon who had first smiled at you, and the only thing you could do was wave your hand at him when your legs refused to take you to him.

“You know that’s not enough.” Emma rolls her eyes. “The guy practically saved your life.”

Your reaction—or lack thereof—over seeing Namjoon hadn’t gone unnoticed by your friends. But it was Emma who had explained to the others about who Namjoon was, earning you more questions and teasing from the girls which only made it even harder for you to ignore his presence.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it if you offer something special tonight for a thank-you gift,” Chloe teases while wiggling her brows.

You laugh, snorting into your drink. “Sure he will,” you say, as you find it hard to imagine that someone like Namjoon would even be interested in being with someone like you. Not only because you know that he is younger than you, but you also know that there are many women out there—mostly those around his age—that he would find more attractive, compared to a single mom like yourself.

As always, your insecurities are quick to set in. Before you can drown it with a strong drink, Emma quickly protests, “You’re a MILF, ______. Stop selling yourself short.”

Nodding, Ina gently agrees with her by saying, “You definitely shouldn’t, seeing that he keeps glancing at you.”

“She means to say that he’s been eye-fucking you since we got here,” Chloe adds, snickering as she glances over her shoulder to catch Namjoon looking over.

“He so is!” Ina says, leaning across the table. “He’s hot. Go for it.”

Hearing this, you finally take a long sip of your drink, trying to gain some liquid courage. You have only gotten a few glasses of drink, the night has yet grown late, but you have already gotten quite a good buzz going on, and you are using it to grow some courage to look over at him. Sure enough, Namjoon is still there, with a glass of what seems to be whiskey in his hand, and a pair of eyes that are looking straight at you. A smile grows on his face as your gazes meet each other, though it is quickly hidden as he lifts his glass to his lips.

“See? He’s looking over again.” Emma starts giggling and gently nudges at your shoulder. “Go talk to him and practice that flirting skills of yours.”

“What flirting skills?” you ask while laughing. Deep down, your insecurities are still clawing at you, but having everyone pushing you to do something that you normally wouldn’t do—like flirting with a hot younger guy like Namjoon—is starting to make you want to change your mind. “Okay, but what do I say?”

“You can start by saying hi,” Ina says. She pushes her appletini in front of you. “Here,” she says. “Finish this, then go talk to him before someone else moves in on that fine piece of ass.”

Chloe nods her head as you pick up the glass of appletini and contemplate what you need to do next. “You can go to the bar and act like you’re there to order drinks from the bartender since we’ll be needing some more drinks.”

“Go on,” Emma joins in, obviously enjoying this.

You exhale a deep breath and bring the glass to your lips. The sweet liquor glides down your throat and you suddenly start wishing that you had gotten something stronger. Lowering the drink, you turn to look for him again. Namjoon isn’t looking at you this time, yet he is still there, talking to the pretty-looking bartender who was the main reason why Emma had chosen to come to this bar—as she seems to be having a sweet crush on the bartender.

“All right, here I go,” you say, as you finish the drink and muster the will to rise from your seat. Your legs are a bit wobbly when you try to walk across the room, but the muted voices of your friends who are cheering for you from behind give you the boost you need to continue going.

The floor between your table and the bar has been filled with people dancing while you are drinking, and they come in your way, making you lose sight of Namjoon for a moment. Not being able to see him only makes you feel calmer, until the crowd opens up and you see him once again, still sitting at the bar. Alone.

Eyes too focused on him, you accidentally bump into someone who walks right into your path. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you immediately apologise while the person simply slides out of your way and returns to his dancing.

You hear a soft chuckle, a familiar sound that causes your breath to catch. You whip around and your eyes are locked with his. Immediately, something fuzzy builds in your chest, and you almost fall out of step when you notice it.

Are those butterflies you are feeling inside? You haven’t felt anything remotely like butterflies in—fuck—years.

As his smile grows wider at the sight of you walking towards him, you try to convince yourself that his presence isn’t affecting you. At all.

Your lady bits do not quiver for random men. You are certainly not having dirty thoughts about him. You keep telling yourself this as you get closer to him. And yet—

Your heart immediately speeds up at the sound of his voice—calling your name.

“_______, fancy seeing you here,” he says, looking genuinely pleased that those butterfly wings are beginning to flutter again, causing some funny feelings to rise in your stomach.

“I could say the same thing. It was a nice surprise to see you,” you respond to him and—fuck, did you really just try flirting with him? “Enjoying your night?”

“You can say that,” he says with a dimple smile of his, “But I’m finding more reasons to feel good tonight now that you’re here.”

Damn, he’s good, you wonder as you stifle a smile, and fail. Maybe he should be the one helping you sharpen your flirting skills instead of Emma or the other girls who always start making jokes about it and making you laugh each time you try it on them.

“A friend of yours?” You turn when the bartender comes, throwing you a smile as he speaks to Namjoon.

“Jin, this is _______,” Namjoon says, introducing the two of you. “This is Jin, an old friend who first convinced me to move here. He’s the main reason why I hang out at a place like this.”

You offer your hand to the bartender who takes it with a firm grip. “Hi, it’s nice to see you. I see that you and your friends are having quite a blast.”

Returning Jin’s smile, you playfully ask him, “Would it be too much if I thank you for encouraging Namjoon to move here?”

“Nope, not at all,” Jin laughs. “So, what can I get you?”

You quickly make your order, and while you wait for the bartender to finish preparing the drinks, you take the seat right by Namjoon’s side so you can have a little chat. Either the alcohol is starting to warm you up inside, or Namjoon’s friendly smile is making you more comfortable, every bit of tension you feel is lifted when you begin laughing at his simple jokes.

Once the drinks are ready, you reluctantly rise to return to your friends to deliver their shots. This time, you have a slight new pep in your footsteps, confidence brewing inside you after realising that you had conquered one of your insecurities tonight by chatting with Namjoon. Your friends welcome you with light cheers, and you celebrate by sharing a shot of whiskey and finishing the rest of your drink.

It doesn’t take long before your friends decide to end the night.

Ina is the one to step away first, when her husband calls her about one of their sons who had just gotten caught sneaking through the window after lying about doing his homework in his room. “We don’t know if he snuck out to see a girl or got himself in other kinds of trouble while he was out, but Dan needs me as a backup to get some answers from the little brat,” she says, kissing your cheek when she bids goodbye for the night.

Chloe is the one who needs to go home next, when her husband keeps calling her about feeling lonely at home. “I can’t tell if it’s sad or cute, but I think I’ve had enough to drink for the night. I already got an Uber picking me up outside.”

“Are you coming?” Emma asks you, her eyes looking over towards the bar before asking, “Or are you going to stay?”

You follow her gaze, looking at Namjoon chuckling along with whatever the bartender is saying to him. A part of you is telling you to call it a night, but there is a bigger part of you that feels intrigued, and curious to see what would happen tonight if you choose differently. To be selfish for once.

“I think I’m going to stay.”

Your answer brings a smile to Emma’s face. She seems proud and—relieved. You have no idea why she would feel this way over your decision to stay for a man, but she simply nods and says, “All right, then I’ll ride with you, Chloe. I’ll see you on Monday, girl,” she says to you as she leans in for a hug and whispers, “Go get him.”

You watch your friends go before finishing the rest of your drink and leaving your seat. Before you can change your mind, your legs take you towards the bar, returning to Namjoon’s side as if you are drawn to him like a moth to flame.

“Are you calling it a night too?” Namjoon asks you when he notices you coming, his gaze flickering to follow your friends as they weave through the crowd to find the exit door, as if expecting to see you following them.

“I don’t really want to go home yet.” You bite your lips. “I think I’m going to have another drink before leaving. Are you planning on leaving early?”

The smile that grows on Namjoon’s face makes your heart flutter. He does look good when he smiles. “And waste the chance to drink with you? No way.” You take the empty seat that he offers right next to him, which he gently pulls closer once you are settled in. “Let me order for you. What are you having?”

“Surprise me.”

Smiling, Namjoon orders you a Moscow Mule, causing you to raise your brows. “You ordered the same drink twice while you were here.”

“You have quite a good memory,“ you tease him, “Are you sure you don’t work here?”

Namjoon laughs. His eyes glimmer under the dim lighting when he says, “You’re not the kind of woman that I’d be so easy to forget.”

You can barely hold back from laughing, because you cannot find it in you to agree.

“You don’t believe me when I say that you’re not easy to forget?” he asks, moving closer to you until you can breathe in the musky cologne he is wearing.

“Me? I’m nothing special. I’m just”—you breathe out a sigh—”just me.”

He takes your hand, sliding his fingers to your wrist, his thumb finding your pulse where he rubs in circles. “I don’t know you very well—yet—but from what I’ve seen, ‘just you’ seems pretty damn special.”

You laugh again and take a drink, murmuring softly to him, “Thanks.”

He looks down for a moment, as if considering what to say. But he seems more determined when he lifts his gaze and looks back at you. There is something in his eyes which draws out the flutters in your chest. A new look which you have yet to see coming from him during the short time you’ve known him.

The look which shows a different kind of want.

And you can only guess what he is thinking right now. Biting your lips, you wait until he says the words, because there is nothing that you want more right now but to go with him. You enjoy talking to him, to be in his presence, and you have a feeling that you might enjoy it more if he offers something more.

It’s just one night, so you can possibly handle it. Right?

Fuck. All of a sudden, you don’t feel too sure about it.

But the gentle touch of his fingers on your skin, together with the deep timber of his voice when he hums, is slowly enticing you to open up, to give in to chance.

Namjoon’s eyes meet yours and the same dimple smile of his returns. You swallow hard, ignoring the sound of your pounding heart as he asks,

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Biting your lips, you can feel your chest tightening. Your heart beating fast. Hard. Your body moves to lean closer even without you meaning it to.

“Yes,” you whisper, and his face lights up, as if he was almost sure that you were going to refuse.

“Your place, or mine?”

A simple question, made with a light tone of voice that sounds almost joking, except that Namjoon’s heart is beating rapidly inside his chest as he says it. He already risked everything when he first asked to take you away from here. Now, it feels as if he is risking a bit more as he waits for your answer.

You bite your lips, and your hesitance only makes him feel worse. “Is there any difference?”

Namjoon wants to say, no, it doesn’t. The only thing that matters is for him to be spending this night with you. You push your hair back, and when your eyes meet his, he can almost feel your heart beating right up against his.

“Are your kids home tonight?” Namjoon tries when you’re not too sure. Somehow, he understands that you might be wary about coming home to his place when you barely know him.

“No, they’re at my parents.”

A smile is lifted on his face. “Then are you going to take me home?”

You return his smile and lean closer. It amazes him how quickly you switch—from shy and hesitant at one point, to feeling more confident and daring the next. And it turns him on even more when you say, “Only if you promise that you’re going to be a good boy.”

Namjoon calls an Uber to take you both home while you make a quick stop at the restroom before leaving the place. In the short time that he has to wait for you, Namjoon struggles to keep his composure. It’s almost laughable the way it makes him feel like a newbie. For him to feel so nervous as if he is inexperienced in this.

In a way, this is something new for him. Enough to make him feel exhilarated about what is to come.

He turns just in time to see you walking up to him. As if your moment away had given you the chance to recoup and find some resolve, you look as if you are shining, your smile looking bright and your eyes filled with lust and want and it takes everything in him not to pull you into his arms here and now just to kiss you senseless.

“Take me home, mama,” he jokingly says when he opens the car door for you, making you laugh.

Instead of answering him, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him in with you until you are seated in the backseat of the car together, bringing the heat that you share into the confines of the car as it takes you back home.

In the tight space within the car, the heat that has been building up between you becomes more palpable. You can tell that he is feeling it too. And he seems to be giving into it, when he keeps running the tips of his fingers from your hand to your wrist, when his knees keep pressing against yours, and when his eyes keep trailing from your face, down to your cleavage, and then back up to your neck, before lingering on your lips.

He wets his lips, as if he is picturing himself tasting you with a kiss. “Can I be honest with you?” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Of course.”

“I…couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits with a soft chuckle. It seems that his confession surprises him just as much as it does to you.

“Since the fire alert?”

“No,” he says with a grin, “ever since the night we first met.”

Was it at the supermarket? You wonder to yourself, trying to figure out what he could have possibly seen in you that night through the chaos with your girls.

No, it was before, you begin to realise, as you recall the night of the cookout event at your neighbours’ backyard, when Namjoon lingered close by after sharing a quick chat with you, and when you caught him watching you from the side while you were helping your daughters with their dinner plates.

“I told myself after watching you go that night that I shouldn’t get my hopes up, since you seemed to have a lot going on already and I probably didn’t deserve any second of your time. But then I saw you at the supermarket and I couldn’t resist saying hello.” His eyes find yours. You have no idea what kind of expression you are giving him while you are loss for words, but Namjoon’s smile softens. “And just when I thought it couldn’t have been more than a coincidence, we got the call to your office and there you were. It feels like we just keep crossing paths with each other. As if I am made to make a move.”

Noticing that you have grown silent, Namjoon tilts his head and asks, “What’s wrong?”

With a bitter laugh, you can only shake your head. “Nothing, it’s just—” You bite your lips, hating the way your insecurities have always been able to come to the surface the moment you try to push against your boundaries, when you try to take risks like what you are doing tonight. But you simply cannot help it. The feeling is clawing at your chest that you can barely breathe. “You know you could’ve gotten home with someone else. Someone who isn’t—”

You try to look away, yet Namjoon isn’t having it. With his fingers on your chin, he turns your face gently so you are forced to look at him again. “Is not—what?”

Your throat feels tight and your mouth feels bitter when you answer, “Older. A single mom. A—”

Namjoon presses his thumb on your lips to stop you from speaking further. “Remember what I told you earlier, and I really meant it,” he says, his gaze softening and heating up at the same time. “You are special. If you had said no to me tonight, I would’ve gone home alone, and spent the rest of the night finishing the last cans of beer I still have in my fridge or eating any frozen leftovers I could find before passing out on the couch.”

You blink. His honesty surprises you, yet you would be lying if you told yourself that it doesn’t make you feel flattered to hear him choosing you.

As if there is a switch inside you that has been flipped, everything fades to the back of your mind. All the voices that keep putting you down are silenced. The only thing left in your mind is the image of this gorgeous man spending his night alone in his quiet home, eating one of those boxed meals you saw peeking through his grocery bag and downing beers until he falls asleep, and you decide that you are not having it.

Seems like you are not the only one who needs to take some risks tonight just to experience some changes in life.

“Yep. That’s it. I’m sending you dinner next time.”

Namjoon laughs. “What—?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pull him down to you and press your lips on his, putting his words—and your thoughts—to silence with a kiss.

“I’m sorry for the mess. The perks of having little kids are always having too many things scattered around the house, and—”

It is still surprising to see how easy and quickly you change depending on the moment. You keep going from Miss In Control to a more subdued figure filled with insecurities. Namjoon knows that he shouldn’t, but he is adamant about changing that tonight, even if it makes him feel a myriad of things inside when you show multiple sides of you at once.

“It’s all right,” he cuts you off with a half smile, noticing how nervous you are getting about showing him your home.

As you move aside to start taking off your shoes and coat, Namjoon kicks his own shoes off and takes a quick glance around. Most of the lights are off, yet he can still see through the dim lighting to see what he needs to see.

Much like his own house, your place has an open space concept, where everything is visible from the foyer. He looks at the living room to his right, where the flat television hangs against the wall, surrounded by wooden shelves filled with books and trinkets and boxes filled with toys. To his left is the open kitchen, the room is slightly more spacious than his, and cleaner, with a hint of the scent coming from the last meal you cooked today still wafting through the air.

Truth be told, he doesn’t mind at all about how the house looks like at the moment. He even thinks that your home feels comfy, more welcoming and lively than his own, which makes him feel good and warm inside as he steps onto the threshold of your home.

Still, right now, he has other—more important—things to pay close attention to.

Namjoon waits until you are done taking your coat off before approaching you.

He places an arm around your shoulders, hinting at his need to get closer. When you show no sign of pushing him away, he pulls you towards him gently, and you willingly lean into him until you are engulfed completely in his warmth, and he feels your soft body pressing against his hard muscles. He bends down and your lips meet each other, warm and welcoming as they mesh into a kiss.

For a split second, Namjoon can feel you hesitating. But then your arms come up to wrap around him before returning the kiss. It feels gentle and soft, yet Namjoon can feel every cell in his body lighting up at the touch, and he allows that hope he ignored before to rise as he melts into the kiss

Namjoon is a firm believer that a person can tell quite a lot about the other by the way they kiss, and that the first kiss will define how the night will continue.

He feels you parting your lips slowly as your fingers curl into fists, balling the back of his shirt. He can taste the fruity taste of your lip-gloss which you put on during your toilet break before the two of you left the bar, and he can also taste a hint of the drink you had as he lightly brushes the tip of his tongue against yours.

The simple contact earns a soft hum from your throat, and then you tip your head back and open your mouth, asking him for more. He gladly gives it to you as he slides one hand up your waist and cups your cheek, deepening the kiss. Your grip around him tightens when his tongue pushes past your lips, bringing heat all over your body and his as he devours your mouth, and you respond by pressing your hips into his.

Feeling like he is burning from within, Namjoon starts to pull away. But you are not having it. You move your hand to his face, and then bring him back down until his lips are back on yours. You take charge this time, kissing him as if your very existence depends on it, and Namjoon smiles into the kiss as he follows your lead.

Tonight is going to be a good night.

As your mind grows hazy from the heated kiss, you start stumbling back until you are pressed against the front door.

It rattles under your weight, and starts making other noises when Namjoon presses harder against you the deeper the kiss you share. You feel his feet moving, sliding between your legs, only to stop when his toes come in contact with one of Hana’s squeaky toys that had somehow fallen in the foyer.

You break away from the kiss at the sound of his deep chuckle. The way he seems more amused than he is annoyed pleases you so that your body grows impossibly hotter. How can something so simple as a guy chuckling over a simple kid toy, completely understanding it instead of getting angry and complaining over something so trivial—just like someone you once knew and wish so badly to forget—look so incredibly hot?

Expecting to hear him say something about it, you lift your face to look at him, only for Namjoon to bend lower again and try to kiss your lips. Bunching his shirt with your fingers, you stop him and start pushing him through the dark hall and into the kitchen, where you know there won’t be any trail of toys getting in the way.

Namjoon lets you drag him around with a grin on his face. It seems to please him that you are the one taking the initiative, showing him that you want him just as much as he does.

As you push him deeper into the kitchen, your hands tracing his hard chest and your lips nipping his jawline, you wonder where all of this confidence is coming from.

It could be coming from the buzz rushing through your mind and body. It could also be this want inside you which has been lying dormant for so long, awakened simply by the heat of his kiss. Either way, you are surprised to find how easy it is to simply give in. To follow what your heart desires as if it is guiding you through the motions.

While most of the lights have been turned off when you left your house earlier, the light from the microwave is on, casting a soft, golden glow which falls nicely on him, accentuating every line—both on his face and his body—which you desire so badly to touch and kiss and taste.

You pull him down for that desirable kiss, and he dives straight down, his lips crashing into yours. And then he starts kissing you fast, hard, as if his very existence depends on this kiss. You kiss him back with the same need, taking his lip between your teeth, drawing a soft sound coming out of his throat. His chest rumbles against yours as he gently pushes you backwards.

Namjoon pins you against the kitchen counter, placing you between the hard counter and his rock-hard chest. He moves his knees between your legs, keeping them apart. You can feel his cock straining against his jeans as he bucks his hips forward, pressing roughly into your stomach. Then he moves his mouth to your neck, kissing, sucking, making you moan, distracting you from the object of his desire that you want so badly to touch.

Without unlatching his lips from your skin, Namjoon sweeps his fingers across your collarbone, finding the strap from your top that is already hanging off your shoulder. He pulls away, his dark gaze following his fingers as he unhooks the other strap off your shoulder until your top falls down to your waist, exposing your lacy dark purple bra which you had intentionally chosen for the night.

He watches closely as your chest rises and falls with your ragged breath, murmuring softly, “Beautiful. You are so hot, baby.”

Your entire body shudders with the sound of his deep voice, recognising the hunger in it. Heat forms in your belly after knowing that his words are meant for you. He slowly walks his palms up your body, reaching up to cup your breasts with his strong palms.

A moan slips out of your lips at his touch, when the gentle pressure he is giving on your mounds sends heated sparks through your body. The sound you are making seems to snap something in him, as he moves his mouth back to yours, kissing you softly, teasing, while his thumbs begin to move over your covered nipples in small circles.

You draw a sharp inhale of breath at the delightful sensation he is making you feel, which is swallowed by his kiss. Your chest rises, pressing your breasts into his palms. The shiver running through your body feels so intense, blocking everything else as you push your tongue back into his mouth at the same time your hands slip under his shirt.

His skin feels warm. His chest feels firm and broad. You can feel his breath hitching at the touch of your fingers, his body shivering as your hands start inching closer and closer to his cock as you walk them down his torso.

It draws a deep groan from him, yet he keeps kissing you. He continues to caress your breasts until your nipples grow hard against his palms, and that is when he finally moves his hands down. You only get to pop the button of his jeans open before he catches your wrists, stopping you from going further as he brings them to your back, pinning them together to confine you.

You push and strain against his grasp, only to fail when his hold is firm. Surprisingly, being restrained in his hold and losing control is not making you feel powerless. Instead, it becomes a complete turn-on to have someone taking control of you that your body heats up with a stronger need for more.

Shocked at this revelation, you pull back with a gasp.

“Let me touch you,” you whine as you try to pull your hands out of his, drawing a deep chuckle from him.

“Not yet, baby,” he murmurs against your lips. “I want to see all of you first.”

He kisses you again, deep enough to make you arch your back so your hips are pressed into his. You widen your legs and he presses forward, his toned thigh pressing at your pulsing center. The sensation you feel as you begin rubbing your covered pussy over his thigh feels explosive, and it is driving you insane that you cannot touch him at the same time.

You feel him smiling in the kiss, clearly enjoying this; your desperation and need, and the way you are chasing for pleasure even under his restraint. He moves his mouth to your neck again, nipping at the skin. You try to twist your arm to set yourself free, but Namjoon lifts his head to stop you with a look.

“These naughty hands need to stay back, baby. Do you hear me?” he asks as he guides your hands to rest against the small of your back, your wrists resting on the hard countertop pressing from behind you.

Your mouth falls open, but every complaint and defiance that you want to give him fades under his dark gaze. Pulling away, Namjoon grabs the hem of your top and pulls it over your head, dropping it behind him, before he once again guides your hands to return to their position on your back. He leans back just enough for him to run his gaze over your body, giving you an appreciative look while humming softly.

The heat of his gaze only brings back your insecurities, however, as you grow nervous under his trailing eyes, and you look away, casting a quick glance down your middle. Having two kids over the years has left a few things behind; light scars, stretch marks marring your skin, and uneven curves forming in places which you can only hide under your daily clothes. You realise only now one of the many reasons why you had never considered dating and being intimate again with someone—anyone—and much less have any interest in having hookups or one-night-stand.

Namjoon notices the change of mood in your silence. He captures your chin and gently draws your gaze back to his face. “Don’t be shy,” he murmurs as he presses a light kiss on your lips, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You blink, once again his words winning as you feel your heart strengthening, gaining back your confidence. “You really think so?” you ask him after taking an audible breath.

“God, yes,” he says with a slight groan in his voice, drawing a soft giggle out of you. “Don’t you ever question it, baby.”

Biting down your smile, your eyes flutter down with pleasure and relief. “Good.”

“Now, where were we?” he asks as he lets go of your chin, his arms dropping to his sides. He reaches down to unbutton your tight pants, yet you beat him to it when you take the hem of his shirt in your hands and help him pull it off, before tossing it away out of reach.

“Naughty girl. What did I say about those hands?” he asks, and then he is kissing you again to distract you from taking back control.

He wraps his arm around your waist. For a second, you expect him to lift you up and set you up on the counter. Just like those scenes you have often read in the spicy romance book you have edited over the years. But then he surprises you when he lifts you up to carry you away, taking you towards the dining table instead.

With your eyes fluttering close in the kiss, the only thing you notice is the sound of the chair scrapping on the floor, before he releases you and falls back. Your mind is hazy when you open your eyes, seeing him sitting back on the dining chair while guiding you to stand between his parted legs.

Swaying a little, you lean into his touch as he sneaks his fingers down the waistband of your tight pants and begins pulling them down. “Let me see these off, baby.”

He doesn’t have to say it twice, as you slip your thumbs down the band of your pants and begin wiggling it down your legs. You keep your eyes on him while kicking the pants away, ignoring the shudder running through your body at the heat of his gaze and the chill breeze falling on your exposed skin.

Sneaking a glance down your body, you follow his gaze to be able to see what he is seeing. You are relieved that you had at least thought of choosing a matching pair of new undergarments to wear tonight, instead of wearing your old mismatched ones like you usually do when you have to rush in the mornings.

Standing in front of him like this makes you feel self-conscious. But the desire that is so palpable in his eyes helps you ignore all unappealing thoughts you ever have about yourself.

Smiling coyly to him, you sweep your hands up your stomach, slowly reaching up over your breasts. His hands begin to clench on his side as he watches you kneading your covered breasts. You watch him licking his lips when you press your breasts until they come together, offering him with a gentle voice, “Do you like what you’re seeing? Do you want me to take this off too?”

“No, not yet. I want to enjoy seeing you like this a bit longer,” Namjoon answers you with a deep voice that sounds almost like a growl. “Come here.”

At his gentle command, your legs move on their own, taking you closer to him. He grabs your waist, keeping you steady as you climb onto his lap, your legs spreading wide around his waist and your arms come around his broad shoulders.

Being in this position allows you to feel everything. To feel more.

Every part of him feels hard against your soft body. His warmth comes pressing on every inch of your skin, allowing you to feel the heat rushing under, pooling from between your legs. You feel exposed, and the sensation is intensified as you have your legs opened for him.

Smiling, Namjoon walks his hand around your waist. With his palm splayed on your back, he gently pushes you forward. Once again, you collide into each other, your breasts are crushed against his chest, and your lips are entangled with his in a hard, needy kiss.

His kiss is slow, gentle, almost languid. Almost as if he is trying to savour the moment, yet it feels as if you are melting into him. You can still feel him taking control of this moment when his lips are pressing hard against yours and his tongue slipping into your mouth to swallow the sounds you are making.

In the rising pleasure, your brain is slowly turning into mush. Your eyes flutter close, and you revel in the sensations that he is bringing to your body, to every single touch and kiss. You drown yourself in his heated kiss, as he swallows your moans with his mouth and tongue. You lean into his strong hands as one moves up your stomach, cupping your breast and rubbing against your hardened nipple, and the other moves along the curves of your body, trailing down your waist to your hips, before cupping your soft bottom.

His palm presses harder into your soft flesh, making you grow alert of your own movements, finally noticing that your body seems to have gained a mind of its own, moving and grinding his lap in the heat of the moment.

Your covered center starts growing hot and wet as you keep rubbing against his hips. A gasp escapes your throat as you feel his covered hard-on pressing at your pulsing center. Using his palm, Namjoon guides your steady rocking, each thrust forward falling in tune with each thrust and stroke of his tongue in your mouth.

Within moments, the heat inside your core rising into small waves of pleasure. Drunken in lust, you lean into him more to chase it, rocking harder, faster, pressing more into his hard cock until you feel like you are hanging on the edge of release.

“Oh, God,” you gasp against his mouth, moments too close to your first orgasm.

Namjoon mutters a curse, and his hands tighten on the soft flesh of your bottom, putting everything into a halt. He flips you around to face away from him, doing it with such ease as if you weigh nothing. As you fall back against his chest, your knees drape over his thighs, spreading wide, your throbbing pussy facing away from his heat, away from the its final release.

“You need relief, baby?” His voice sounds thick as he whispers to your ear. Without waiting for your answer, his fingers zero in on the exact place where you need them to be, as he begins rubbing your clit from over your delicate panties. “Hmmm? I need you to answer me. Let me know what you want.”

“Yes,” you hiss at his touch, barely able to answer his question while urging him on as you rock your hips into his touch. Namjoon’s other hand moves up to cup your breast, kneading and squeezing until you feel your nipple growing hard under your bra. The ache building on your breasts pulses in the same rhythm as the throbbing you feel building on your clit, which he presses the pad of his fingers onto, moving them in circles.

“God, Namjoon,” you whine, already panting when he keeps touching all the right places, inciting all the reactions from your body as heat rises from your core. Reaching down, you place your hand over his, your fingers pressing atop of his strong digits as you press against them, causing his touch to grow firm and steady, before you slip your fingers under and slide your panties aside for him.

Namjoon’s chest rumbles as he groans deeply. “Oh, yeah, that’s it, baby. Offer that sweet little pussy for me.”

Your cheeks flush with warmth upon hearing his words, and then the warmth spreads through your body when his fingers move to touch your flesh. His fingers are big and strong, yet delicate at the same time. They glide over your slit, which has grown embarrassingly wet, capturing every essence of your arousal as he moves them between your folds. You press your pelvis down to meet his touch, urging him on, and he complies by working his middle finger inside you.

It feels like forever since the last time you have had sex, and it surely shows because you can already feel your orgasm building the second he starts pumping his finger inside you. The pleasure feels maddening. Enough to make you lose control of yourself as your body rocks with him. You don’t even recognise the sounds coming out of your throat as you embrace the sensations he brings out of you.

As he feels you giving in to the pleasure, Namjoon adds a second finger, stretching you further.

Your head falls back on his shoulder as you cry out with pleasure. Your body falls lax against him, powerless against his touch. So he moves his other arm down, wrapping it around your waist to keep you from falling as he continues thrusting his fingers in and out, all while pressing the heel of his palm against your clit until you are weeping with desire. When he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, your pussy clutches on emptiness.

Needing friction, or something to relief this new need of yours, you begin pressing your wet mound against his thigh, intending to start rubbing against it until you find some kind of release. But Namjoon stops you by delivering a sharp slap, right between your legs.

“Naughty,” he growls in your ear. “I thought this pussy is mine?”

Your hips shoot up at the lingering ache, which awakens the throbbing inside your pussy, causing your mind to go fuzzy with the mixed of pain and pleasure he brings to your body.

Namjoon spanks your pussy again, lighter this time, before going slightly harder when coming back for the third time. Then, as if he knows that you are about to explode, he shoves two fingers right back inside you and starts fucking you with them, moving hard and rough, no longer holding back. It feels intense, sending you light speed towards the peak of your pleasure.

With a cry slipping out of your lips, your head falls back on his shoulder as the wave of pleasure engulfs you. Digging your nails into his forearms, you ride his fingers, bucking against each thrust of his hand, your walls clenching tightly around him, and your toes curling underneath. Your orgasm comes to you strongly, going on and on while Namjoon keeps his fingers wedged inside you, and you can feel your walls contracting around them as you come all over them.

Dear God, help me.

You find yourself praying. Never before had you ever lost control the way you do now. Never once have you ever felt so much pleasure, to make you feel something so intense that you feel like you are losing your mind.

Namjoon waits until you come down from your release before easing his fingers out of you. Your body grows limp against his, causing him to wrap his arms tighter around you to hold you still. His lips find your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss while he smooths your panties back in place.

“That’s it, sweet mama. Relax with me,” he murmurs in your ear, helping you calm down before rearranging your position until you come to face him once more, your legs straddling his toned thighs, pressing against his muscles, his warmth, and the rapid pounding of his heartbeat under your palms.

“Everything okay?”

You are still too delirious that you can barely think straight, yet you manage to nod and whisper, “Yeah. Everything’s good.”

Looking into his eyes, you reach down between your bodies and press your palm over his covered bulge. “But I’m not sure that you’re feeling the same.”

Groaning deeply, Namjoon’s eyes flutter to close. You continue stroking his covered cock, feeling it hardening under your touch and pushing against his pants that is partly undone. “Keep touching me like that, mama. And I’ll fuck you right here, right now. Or I’ll take you right on top of that counter, right where you’ll be making breakfast for your sweet girls the first morning they’re home.”

His threat draws a moan from deep within your throat. Biting your lips, you steal a glance towards the kitchen counter. As tempting as it sounds to follow your wanton desire, to be taken hard and rough right where you spend most of your days and mornings, you want something different. You don’t want this to end so quickly, for the night to feel so instant, and you want to savour this pleasure for as long as you are allowed to.

“Mmm…No, we can’t have that,” you whisper, turning to him to nip his jaw, making him groan. Carefully, you step back from his lap. Your legs are trembling when you try to stand on your own, yet you muster a smile as you calmly say, “Come.”

You hold out your hand and he grabs it as he rises to his feet. He follows you down the hall and up the stairwell. Past the landing which is surrounded by framed pictures of yourself with your family and your sweet girls and their creative drawings filling the walls, you continue walking upstairs, feeling more self-conscious the closer you get to your bedroom.

Right before your nerves begin to get in the way, Namjoon’s arms come around you, holding you to his chest as you crash through the doorway to your bedroom. His lips capture yours, swallowing the sound of your laughter until you fall backwards on the bed.

Standing on the foot of the bed, Namjoon stands tall, a solid figure standing at the center of your world of chaos. He says nothing as he runs his gaze over your body, appreciating what he sees one last time which brings back your confidence. All for knowing that he is liking what he sees.

Drawn by the urge to touch him, to feel, you push yourself up and start tugging his pants down. “Off—” you murmur as you struggle to peel the damn thing off of him, earning his chuckle. Namjoon helps you halfway, stopping briefly to pull something out of his back pocket before he tosses his whole pants away. He wastes no more time to continue where he left off, as he pushes you back to the bed and lowers himself to you.

Your arms go around his shoulders to welcome him. Your eyes meet each other again, allowing you to see something that you failed to notice before. Behind his heated gaze, the warm dimple smile, and the alluring words filled with his raw desire, lies another emotion haunting like a shadow.

An emotion that you know too damn well as it mirrors your own.

Desperation.

Swallowing hard, you feel the same emotion coming out of you in strides; the desperation to belong and to be happy; to be able to move through life without being haunted by the unwarranted fear of getting hurt. The desperation to feel.

Allowing that emotion to take over, you pull him down to you and kiss him deeply. You run your hands down his back, pressing at his spine until he lowers his hips onto yours. You can feel his hard cock pressing on you, its wet tip sticking out from the top of his briefs, rubbing against your skin. You regret not having the chance to have a look at it, to appreciate it through more than your dainty touch. Yet you cannot deny the desperate need to feel him inside you, filling you up until there is nothing left of you when he is done.

Arching your back, you rock against him, pressing your tender center against his bulge. His mouth unlatches from yours, and then he pulls the lacy cups of your bra with a rough tug, tucking them under your breasts to push them up. He keeps his palms on them, touching them directly this time, skin to skin, bringing all the shudders back and rising twofolds as you cry out his name.

His mouth finds your neck, and the touch of his lips is almost enough to make you come and unravel right there and then, yet you manage to hold back with a bite of your lip. Without taking his mouth off of you, Namjoon runs his hand down, finding your center and pressing down. The pleasure sparks through your body like fireworks as he rubs in circles against your covered center, pressing against your slit, rubbing at your covered clit, and then finding your wetness to draw out more essence out of you.

Every nerve in your body comes awake and lights up at the same time, allowing you to feel everything that he is giving you. Engulfed in the pleasure, you barely feel him as Namjoon starts moving down, spreading his fingers down your thighs to part your legs for him, before plunging his head between your quivering thighs.

You feel a soft tug at your panties, and then cold breeze touches your skin as Namjoon slides the center of your panties aside, exposing your tender pussy. “I wanted to taste you so badly,” he murmurs against your skin as he presses his lips on the apex of your thigh, then he moves to the other side, before reaching to the center, drawing a sharp cry out of you when he presses a kiss right at your folds.

His tongue drags through your flesh before he sucks gently on your swollen bud. A shiver shoots right up through your body as pleasure sparks from beneath, and he starts fucking you with his tongue. In and out he presses and licks with his warm, soft tongue, tasting your essence with a deep hum, while his mouth keeps stealing a kiss and sucking, intensifying the pleasure.

With your hands sinking into the sheets beneath you, your hips begin to move, rocking against his mouth and riding the sensation as it grows more and more intense. You lift your head to watch him work. The look he gives you when he returns your gaze causes your body to twitch, your muscles tightening as pleasure coils through your core.

With a grin, Namjoon buries his face deeper, his teeth grazing at your clit before lapping at the swollen bud with his tongue to take away the pinch of pain. The sensation sends your body falling back. Still rocking your hips to ride the pleasure, you twist the sheets in one hand, and then take a handful of his short hair with the other.

It doesn’t take long before the familiar wave of pleasure starts rolling through your body, rising intensely from the depth of your core. Your breath quickens as you are climaxing into his mouth. It comes so strongly that you can feel it rushing all the way down to your toes. A series of breathless moans come out of your lips at the same pace as the pulses of pleasure coming alight from inside as your orgasm rolls through your body.

Your head is ringing with the waves of your orgasm that you barely aware of how you are pulling at his hair, twisting the short strands in your grasp as you writhe beneath him. Yet he doesn’t stop. Not even when he feels you slowly coming down from your high.

Namjoon continues to lap at your taste, licking away your release as he murmurs gently against your mound, “Fuck, you taste so damn good, baby.”

His voice fades in and out of you, until he slips a finger inside you, pressing against your inner walls. He pushes right in, curling the tip as he pulls out, finding the sweet spot that sends another jolt of pleasure through your body. Realising this, he adds another finger and starts working them at the same rhythm as the movement of his tongue. Your legs begin shaking, your hips are rising against his other palm that is resting on your lower belly to keep you down, but nothing holds you from erupting as the force of your second orgasm quickly rolls through you, sending you over the edge with a cry.

You feel a shift on the bed as Namjoon moves on top of you and presses his lips on yours. The remnants of your orgasm is still pulsing through you, and your ears are still ringing, that you can only take what he is giving you, letting him bring you back to the present with his kiss.

Once you manage to catch your breath, you bring your hands up to him and start pushing his briefs down his hips. He rises slightly from you, taking away his weight and his warmth as he kicks his briefs down his ankle and away. His hand reaches down, wrapping his fingers around his hard girth.

This time, you take the chance to appreciate his beauty. Just like his hard body, his cock seems beautiful, big and thick and heavy even in his strong palm.

With his eyes on your face, Namjoon begins lowering himself on you. Your hips rise to welcome him when you feel his cock falling heavy on your stomach. Your hand reaches down between you, as if you are under a spell. Your fingers wrap around him, drawing a soft gasp from his lips.

Licking your lips, you watch yourself giving him a few light strokes. He seems to enjoy this, as his hips slowly move to return each stroke, each brush of your palm with a thrust of his cock. Groaning deeply, Namjoon bends down to cover you with his hard body. His lips find your neck, kissing the column of your throat as his fingers return to your mounds, pressing into your slit and using the slickness of your arousal and release to move around your entrance.

“Namjoon, please—” Your breath catches when you feel the tip of his finger pressing at your entrance, pushing against your sensitive walls. He enters you slowly with his fingers. It feels delightful, yet you are ready to feel more. “Mhhh…not enough,” you whine breathlessly, “I want you…inside…now.”

He chuckles against your throat, and the vibrations you feel coming from his body aren’t exactly helping to lessen the pool of desire between your legs, nor the tight clench of your walls around his fingers. He gives your pussy a few more thrusts of his fingers before he pulls them out, and reaches out to the other side of the bed.

The soft crinkle sound of a foil gets your heartbeat speeding up in your chest. It’s happening, the voice in your head whispers. Excitement rolls through you, and a wicked through flashes through your head when you meet his gaze again.

You bite your lip and smile, and then you lift your hands, pushing against his shoulders to bring him down onto the mattress. You follow him as he falls back, and then you climb on top of him, enjoying the thrill rushing through you when you see the shock clearly flashing through his gaze.

He grips your hips as you straddle him, keeping you steady until you are sitting in the right position. So right that you can feel his hard cock pressing at your slick center from beneath.

“Well, damn,” he chuckles as he watches you press down your hips on him. “That’s it. Take control, mama. Show me what you want from me.”

You make a humming sound as you begin rocking over him, pressing down against his length. Your panties have grown completely soiled, placed improperly over your mound that you can feel him partly rubbing against your skin. “You know what I want,” you whisper, moaning when you feel his girth rubbing at your clit.

Hoping to feel more, you continue rocking, rubbing your center along the length of his cock. But it isn’t enough. The panties keep getting in the way just when you are close to getting what you want. You reach down to begin peeling the damn thing off of you when Namjoon takes over.

“Let me help you with that,” he says, before he suddenly lifts himself up to a sitting position. His hands are quick to catch your waist to stop you from falling back, keeping you on his lap as he moves his hand to your back.

His eyes look down on your heaving chest, and then his hands are pulling at your undergarments. Starting from your bra, as he expertly peels it off of you within a blink of an eye, then continuing to reach down. The ripping sound of your panties as they fall apart fills the room before you can feel yourself being freed from its presence. The strong pull that he gives on the flimsy fabric barely feels like anything on your skin, your mind too muddled to process it until it is too late.

The moment it dawns on you what is happening, there is nothing else that you can do but to watch with wide eyes, mouth gaping in shock, as Namjoon lifts your ruined panties to his lips and breathes in.

“You won’t be needing them for a while,” he says with a hum at the sound of your sharp inhale of breath.

“You’re so bad.” An incredulous laugh comes out of you as he tosses the tattered panties away.

His hands return to your waist then and he pulls you closer, settling you down nicely on his lap as he asks, “Maybe I am. Are you going to punish me for being a bad boy?”

“Maybe I will,” you tease him as you run your fingers up his chest, pushing him back down. “Naughty boy.”

The glimmer of the foil he is holding between his fingers catches your attention. You pick it up, ripping the foil and letting the rubber fall on your palm. “Is this okay?”

He nods, and then his eyes darken as you gently slide the condom down the length of his cock. Your can feel him twitching under your touch, his head falling back briefly with a groan coming out of his throat when the tips of your fingers meet his skin. Once he is perfectly covered, you move back into position.

Namjoon gently guides you back over him, straddling him once again without anything else getting in the way this time.

You lean forward and place a kiss on his lips, one that feels a bit too sweet and shy. For a moment, your confidence wanes. Being on top of him, unrestrained, and being in complete control makes you feel subconscious with yourself. It makes you feel insecure, suddenly feeling worried that you might not be enough.

As you sit up, your pussy rocks against his cock. You can feel his girth pressing against the dampness which has been growing between your legs, the heat of his body radiates from him and it transfers through your body with each pulse of his blood that you feel against you.

His fingers find their place between your legs, rubbing your clit in slow circles, drawing moans after moans, shudders rolling through your body that you begin moving in response to his touch. Your hips buck up against his hand, desperate for friction. You continue rolling your body as he presses just a bit harder, drawing yet another moan from your lips that comes together with the intense shiver surging from your core.

Enjoying the way you are reacting to him, he rises up to steal a kiss, chuckling softly against your mouth when he feels the twitch of your hips when his cock is pressing harder against your folds. He pulls back, showing you his wicked grin that has your heart beating rapidly.

You lift your hips, and he reaches down to position his cock against your opening. Your body instantly trembles when you feel him nudging against your pussy, spreading your entrance to allow himself in. Then you begin to slide down on him, taking it slow as you take his cock inside you, inch by delicious inch. Your legs quiver around him as you feel him spreading your tight walls, yet you welcome him with a slow moan, allowing yourself to take him deeper as you continue going down, until he is almost fully inside you and you are nearly resting on his hips.

A pulse rocks through you once, and you carefully lift yourself up, sliding up his length and coming back down, getting deeper in your descent.

“You are so perfect,” he whispers to you as you continue riding his cock, keeping a slow pace as you adjust yourself to his size.

Namjoon falls back, letting you take control. Something that no other person has ever done before. He keeps his eyes on you as you continue moving on top of him, sliding up and down the length of his cock, while embracing the waves of pleasure that you get to feel from your constant rocking. His eyes are filled with admiration as he watches you move, your head falling back at the height of your pleasure, your chest arching, showing him the sight of your shaking breasts.

“You are so fucking hot,” he moans, taking your breasts in his hands. You relish every single sensation you are feeling with a moan. It feels incredible. Not just this—the sex, the feeling of him being buried inside your heat, filling you up and giving you pleasure—but also for feeling like you are free.

Sitting naked on top of such a gorgeous man, rocking up and down his cock, enjoying the pleasure without your nerves getting in the way, your insecurities left forgotten. It feels so damn empowering to be owning up to your sexuality, to your wanton desire, after having it denied for so long. All because of your haunting past making you feel like you are less than the person you are now.

These thoughts push you to ride him harder, faster, your fingers sinking into the sheets on either side of him to anchor you against him, while his fingers grow tighter on your hips to help you ride him to chase your pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” he urges you on with a breathy voice, deep groans slipping out of him when you begin fucking him wildly. “Go on, let it go, mama.”

Holding you up against him, Namjoon begins rocking his hips, thrusting up to meet you in your descend. The maddening pleasure rocks through you, and another wave of climax sets off, coiling from your core, up to your lower belly. And right as you are ready to plunge into your climax, Namjoon bends forward, capturing one of your nipples with his mouth and begins sucking, while he reaches up to pinch the other with his fingers.

With a sharp cry, you unravel completely without fail. Your orgasm comes to you not in waves but an explosion, the pain only intensifies the pleasure as it hits, and your body trembles as you embrace it.

Everything fades in and out as your mind and body recovers from the intense high. Your legs are quivering too much that you fall onto his chest, and Namjoon carefully flips you to the side until you are on your back. Ears once again ringing, the sounds of him moving on the sheets seem so distant. But you can feel the dip when he lowers himself on you, his lips finding yours, bringing you back, and then pressing against your neck to quiet down the rapid pulsing of blood surging under your skin.

Once your mind regains clarity, you notice his hand moving. You open your eyes when you cannot feel his touch, and realise that he is giving himself some lazy strokes. “You haven’t gotten yours,” you whisper with a raspy voice, and his grin returns.

“You’ve already came too many times, so—”

Shaking your head, you reach up and pull him back to you. “I can’t be the only one feeling good tonight,” you insist as you capture his lips, enticing him with a light bite. As he returns the kiss, your legs spread open for him, welcoming him back to you. “I want to make you feel good too.”

Groaning, Namjoon deepens the kiss. Still stroking himself, he uses the other hand to gently touch your tender pussy, making sure that you won’t hurt if he continues. “Are you sure?” he murmurs against your lips, before feeling you nod.

Unable to wait long, he quickly gets between your legs again. He covers you with his heat, his toned chest pressing down against your body, delightfully engulfing you with his warmth. Then his hips rock forward, pressing the wet tip of his stiff cock against your pulsing heat. Your back arches the moment you feel him pushing, just enough until you feel the tip penetrating your entrance.

“Namjoon—” you gasp out his name, and his hands come down to your hips, holding you still as he enters you, thrusting deep and slow.

Your legs are spread wider, giving him room to get as deep as he possibly can until your hips are flushed against each other.

Fuck yes, you can hear yourself screaming in your head, while your mouth gapes open with a breathless moan at how full you are feeling with him snugged inside your pussy.

“God, fuck—you feel amazing,” he breathes out as he too becomes still.

Your body clenches around his cock at hearing his words, loving how his praise is stroking at your ego. It seems that your body has gotten used to him so well that he feels like a perfect fit inside you.

“You don’t feel too bad yourself,” you playfully tease him, making him groan deeply that you can feel his entire body vibrating all the way to your core.

“Not bad, huh?” he groans, almost sounding feral when he continues his gentle rocking. “Guess I’ll have to stop holding back, then.”

With a groan, he pulls back almost all the way out and thrusts back into you, rocking both of you against the mattress as he fucks you into it. You grab tightly on the messy sheets beneath you, already tangled by the previous rocking and fucking and growing even messier now that he is picking up pace immediately. It feels intense, making you feel delirious as he moves in and out of you rapidly. And it feels so damn good that you just don’t want it to stop.

“Oh, baby...so perfect,” he gasps, and you open your eyes to see his eyes glazing over with pleasure as he gets lost in your body.

It turns you on so badly to see a man unraveling this way—to be so lost in his pleasure and growing feral as he gives in completely to the sensation. At the same time, it makes you feel powerful, knowing that you are the one making him this way. For someone like him to let his guard down and show you the real part of him. To let you see how raw and passionate he becomes when he is bringing pleasure to both of your bodies.

It makes you feel so hot, and it feels so good, that it practically sends you straight into your final climax. To unravel the same way he does at the pleasure of his lovemaking.

“Keep tightening around me like that, and I won’t last long,” he warns you, while you can only hold back a grin. As if you will take his words like you would to a threat.

You run your hands up his chest, feeling up his toned muscles as they strain with each thrust he is giving you, before you reach up to the back of his neck and grab a handful of his short hair. A smile grows on your face when he lets out another groan, and his hips nearly buckle and twitch as his rocking begins to grow haste.

He’s close.

“Oh, fuck. I’m coming,” he groans, although it almost sounds like he is shouting.

“Yes, please. Come with me. I’m also there,” you whimper breathlessly when your orgasm starts to build.

His grip on your hips tightens as he begins pumping into you fast and hard, hitting all the right spots. You almost believe that he is also growing firmer, harder, bigger, that the only thing you can feel is him, rubbing against your throbbing walls and pushing you over the edge.

A scream slips out of you when the orgasm hits like a massive wave. Your back is almost lifted completely off the bed as your entire body vibrates with pleasure. You can hear him shouting under the sound of your rapid heartbeat, before you feel him pulsing, spilling his heat into you as he joins you in his own orgasm.

Your legs are wrapped around his hips while your arms are hooked around his neck as you hold onto him, refusing to let go as you relish the waves of your orgasm until they begin to settle. You have barely gotten back control of your breathing when he leans down, capturing your lips into a kiss.

The kiss is slow, almost languid, and just as gentle as the movement of his hands as he runs them down your sweaty body. You can still the spasms of your climax lingering as he slowly pulls out of you, allowing you to feel his presence even as he pulls away, dropping right beside you with a soft grunt.

Your eyes are already fluttering to close while he takes his time taking care of his soiled condom and tossing it away to the trash. Yet you are still coherent when he returns, engulfing you in his strong arms, filling your breath with his scent.

“That was fucking amazing,” he mumbles against your skin as you feel his lips pressing on your bare shoulder.

“Hmm…yes, it was…”

A sigh leaves your lips. The content feeling weaving through your body steals the words that you want so badly to say.

Incredible. Astounding.

“Magical,” you find yourself whispering, drawing a soft chuckle from him.

You look at him through your hazy eyes, finding him looking back at you with a different shadow lingering in his gaze which makes you want to say the words that you never expected you would say to him.

Stay the night.

The words die on your tongue as sleep is slowly dragging you down. You try to fight it, even if you aren’t quite sure about saying those words out loud. You have no idea what will come out of this. All you can think about is that you don’t want this to end too soon.

“The girls are out all weekend, aren’t they?” His voice breaks the silence, forcing you to open your eyes.

“Yes, they’re staying at their grandparents. I won’t have to pick them up until Monday afternoon,” you breathlessly answer, recalling faintly how your mother had offered to take Suzy to school and Hana to kindergarten so you wouldn’t have to drive all the way to her house on a Sunday, expecting you to sleep through your hangover and spend the day resting. “Why are you asking?”

“I just wasn’t sure how they would react coming home to find a grown-ass man snuggling with their mom.” He softly chuckles, and in a brief moment of silence, you see a different look appearing in his eyes. A part of him that seems more vulnerable coming out of him in waves, right before he asks you, “Unless you want me out of here?”

Once again, you can see yourself in his gaze. To once again share the same emotions, the same vulnerability which feels too damn familiar. Deep down, you start wishing that you didn’t see it. Because seeing this side of him only makes you care a lot more than you should for someone who is only supposed to be your one-night-stand. Because seeing it only makes you want more.

You close your eyes and try not to think too deeply about it. Not when your mind is still muddled from the wild sex you just had with him. And when his touch is still lingering on your skin.

You can worry about this tomorrow, you hear the same small voice in your head whispering, and you decide that you are going to listen this time.

Pushing yourself up, you pull the blanket from the foot of the bed and drag it up to cover both of your nakedness before sliding back to him. “Nope, you’re staying,” you firmly say as you tuck him in. “I promised to make you dinner, but I really don’t have any energy left to leave the bed right now, so you can make it up by helping me make breakfast tomorrow.”

Namjoon laughs. He visibly relaxes beside you when he mutters, “I love it when you boss me around.”

You stop to look at him, biting your lips before asking, “Would you mind if I keep doing that?”

His smile softens, and the alluring dimple returns for a brief second as he leans in to kiss your temple. “Boss me around anytime, mama. I’ll be good. I promise.”

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please leave a like and reblog to share with your friends and let me know what you think. See you in the next one! PS. You can get to know Jin the bartender and read his story in Blurred Lines. Update | you can read more in the short story: Dinner with Mista Joonie

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