#this is the first episode and the banter is already a+

[weirdhunterangel]

Just watched the first episode of love next door and the verdict is that I love it already! It seems to have all the elements to make it a perfect kdrama and honestly I have been so excited for it. The added bonus is that I absolutely love jung haein and I adore jung so min. Like love them to pieces and just the whole banter situation they have going on is giving me life.

She was the first lunatic I ever met?? Yes please, I am seated.

And in the last scene of the episode, the flashback and that soft smile of haein's, there were tiny butterflies in my stomach. I missed him so much in light rom coms and somin too. Cannot wait for this whole drama.

[astudyintheburningofhearts]

YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS. THE FIRST EPISODE OF HEARTSTOPPER SEASON THREE I'M SCREEAMINGGGGGGGGGG OMG (SPOILERS IN THE TAGS BTW PLEASE JUST SCROLL PAST) FEDJHWKQJ

[asahicore]

fast forward - pjs

pairing. jay x fem!reader

synopsis. After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy... and future husband, or so it seems.

genre+warnings. high school au, the type of e2l where they never really hated each other to begin with, they act like they're academic rivals even though they're not particularly academically gifted, jay has a thing about german the language, sunoo and kazuha besties, heeseung is a loser, jake and sunghoon are assholes sorry, ive liz is german, 02z get into a white-boy locker-room fight, attempts at banter etc, they're a little bit silly

word count. 26.6k

a/n. had the idea for this listening to fast forward by somi LAST SUMMER... and only wrote it this summer and only posting it now <3 i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it !!!!! jay is an absolute cutie here pls love him as much as i do.... as always let me know what u think and remember to vote for @zreamy president in the upcoming elections, shes the only one i trust to beta-read and hence to run a country <3 no it doesnt matter that shes scottish put this woman in the white house

There is only one thorn on the otherwise immaculate rose that is your life.

Every morning, you wake up feeling refreshed from eight hours of restful sleep. You go downstairs to the kitchen, a boiling cup of milky Earl Grey tea already waiting for you, and eat breakfast with your brother Jinwoo and father. Your mom dashes in, placing a kiss on your and Jinwoo’s foreheads, and on your dad’s lips, saying she’s late for work but will see you in the evening. “Have fun at school,” she bids every morning without fail. Your dad teaches Korean Literature at your school, so the three of you drive there together. He watches amusedly as you and Jinwoo bicker light-heartedly on the way there—even in the pits of his puberty, you and your brother get along like two peas in a pod. He still tells you about everything he learns at school and fills you in on the drama in his class, up-to-date with everything even though he pretends not to be interested.

You’re always one of the first to arrive at school, so you scroll through your feed or finish up some homework as you wait for your classmates to file in. Your friends circle your table and you chat about the last episode of the show you’ve been watching until the bell rings and they leave you for their assigned seat.

Class starts with your teacher handing out the math tests you took last week. “Jay and Y/N, great job, keep it up,” he says as he walks past you and the boy in front of you, and hands you your paper. Relief floods your body as you take in the bright red 82 in the top right-hand corner—not the best of the class, but enough for you to be satisfied. 

Good friends, good grades—nothing extraordinary, but it’s a life you dare say any high school senior would want.

There’s just that one thing. The thorn in your side that won’t stop poking.

You glare at it as it whips around in its seat and takes a peek at the grade on your paper before you get to snatch it away from view. It only gives you three seconds to rejoice over your grade. 

“Aw, Y/N. Good effort! Maybe you’ll do better next time!” Jongseong coos, holding up his test for you to see and glare even harder at. 85. Not that big of a difference, but it makes you want to punch the faux sympathetic pout off of his face. 

You’re about to spit something just as petty back at him, but someone whispers your name, and you turn your head in their direction. Beside you, Jake is smiling at you as he asks what grade you got. Your attention is swiftly taken off of Jongseong, whom you don’t even notice dramatically rolling his eyes, huffing in annoyance, and turning around. 

“82,” you whisper back, holding up your paper for Jake to see. His friendly, absurdly handsome smile makes your ears burn. “You?”

The corners of his lips fall down into a sad pout—the kind that makes your heart melt rather than gets on your nerves like someone else. “68,” he says. Leans in over the gap between your tables. Your heart jumps uncontrollably around your rib cage. “Do you wanna go over it together during the break? I think I need some help.”

One-on-one time with Jake Sim? You don’t need to be asked twice. You nod silently, almost mesmerized by Jake as his grin widens. He leans back in his chair. “Perfect. I’ll see you in the library, then.”

“Library, yeah,” you echo dumbly, but thankfully, your teacher tells you to all quiet down and starts the lesson. 

You’re antsy all throughout the rest of your morning classes and lunch break, so nervous that you barely manage to finish your yogurt. Of course, your friends, Sunoo and Kazuha, have a field day with this, and even you can’t help but laugh along as they jump between reassuring you that it’ll be fine, slapping your shoulders with excitement and making fun of your uncharacteristic quietness.

Jake arrives at the library five minutes after you, looking around the room before he finds you at the big round table in the back of the library. Your brain is too riddled with anxiety for you to make more small talk than “Hey,” “Hey,” “How was your lunch?” “Good, yours?” “Good.” And so you just jump straight into it.

You’ve only had a couple minutes of quiet explanation on your part and heavy nodding on Jake’s when Jay appears at the entrance of the library. He spots you and Jake immediately, and without any hesitation whatsoever heads towards you and sits down at your table, right across from the two of you.

“Hey, Jay,” Jake greets in a friendly manner, but Jay only responds with a nod of his head.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he says when he notices you glaring. “I won’t bother you.”

As if he could be anything other than a bother, you think, but courteously keep to yourself. The childish rivalry you and Jongseong have got going on has no business spoiling a rare hour of alone time you get with Jake. As you go over the exercises he had the most trouble with on the test with you, your eyes often drift over to Jongseong as if to check on him—you’re cautious like he’s a spider in the corner of the room that might spring on you at any moment.

And indeed, the moment your gaze leaves him for more than a minute as you explain an intricate theorem to Jake, he’s out of sight, and panic shoots through you. Where the hell has he suddenly gone off to? you wonder, but not for long.

“There’s a much easier way to do this, really,” says a voice from behind you, and of course, it’s none other than Jongseong himself, quite literally butting his way into your tutoring session. Right between you and Jake, he bends over and rests his elbows on the table, taking Jake’s pencil from him and describing the theorem in a way that isn’t that much simpler. Your eyes shoot bullets into the side of his face while he, unbothered, explains this and that to Jake, who glances at you a couple of times but otherwise does not seem so perturbed by the sudden change of tutor. Either Jongseong doesn’t notice your glare or doesn’t care, because he doesn’t budge.

Just when they’re done with the exercise and you think you’ll get Jake to yourself again, another voice appears from behind, a much higher, girlier one. You notice the hand on Jake’s shoulder first, until slowly, your eyes drift to the face—you recognize Yunjin, head of the cheerleading squad, and she’s smiling at you, a smile that at once tries to cover and betrays her surprise at seeing you and Jake together. She doesn’t acknowledge you any more than that, gaze going back to “Jakey,” asking him if he wants to head to class together. You check the time—five minutes before the first bell rings. What do they need so much time getting to class for? It’s not like any room in this school is more than a three-minute walk away.

But Jake doesn’t even look back at you, just says “Sure!” with far too much enthusiasm for your taste as he packs his stuff. “Thanks, you two,” he says, looking at Jay first, then at you. You think his eyes linger on you for a second, but just like that, he’s gone, him and Yunjin walking side-by-side.

You watch them leave—they look good together, the cheerleading captain and the soccer team’s star. The white Vans she’s wearing have a bunch of red love hearts on them that look drawn on, and you think, Of course, Jake is the type to date someone cute, someone fun, someone who would draw on their shoes. Not someone like you, whose idea of a good Friday night is lighting up a scented candle and reading your favorite novel for the nth time. When they’ve left the library, you slump in your seat, crumpling the sheet of paper you had drawn a bunch of graphs and formulae on to make things clearer for Jake. Jay awkwardly clears his throat and finally returns to his seat, looking at you with his lips pressed in a tight line.

“Y/N?” he asks tentatively, and the sound is too much to bear, so you pack your things and head to your next class early, too. Your mind is racing with a million thoughts a minute—who is that girl to Jake, how come you’ve never seen them together before, how come he was so eager to leave with her, what was that smile she gave you about? In the fifty-five minutes of your biology class, which you uncharacteristically don’t pay any attention to, you’ve convinced yourself that they are crazy in love and that none of Jake’s actions or words towards you had ever meant anything, that you’d liked him so much you’d dreamt up the possibility of his liking you back, too.

Your next lesson starts—the smile Jake gives you as he walks into History is so bright, it dissipates any clouds hanging over your head. You do believe in male-female friendships, but despite yourself, you can’t help but think that anyone in a relationship wouldn’t give someone else such a perfect, warm smile. It just wouldn’t be right. And so, you reason with yourself that simply walking to a class together didn’t mean two people were a couple.

For an hour, you stare at the back of Jake’s head, and although you do eventually come to the more sensible conclusion that a smile may just be a smile, you also think it's unlikely that he and Yunjin would be a thing. If they were, why would they hide it? Jake is so nice, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d exaggerated his enthusiasm upon seeing her. You’re sure you still have your chances. He even says see you tomorrow when class is over and slips out of the room to go to soccer practice. 

You feel like you’re walking on cloud 9 as you head from History to your next class—but when you remember that the next class is German, your mood drops significantly. Because the universe has it out for you, you and Jay are two of just ten students in your year taking German as your second foreign language option, everyone else having gone for either French, Japanese or Spanish. Your reasoning for it is that your dad has had an obsession with Germany since his year abroad in Bavaria, and twelve-year-old you had wanted to make him happy. Eighteen-year-old you regrets it slightly, but at least now your dad is ecstatic every time you tell him in German that the dinner he made was really tasty. Why Jongseong decided to take it beats you—he’s probably just insane.

But because you don’t really know anyone else in the class, and because it’s your last period of the day, you have no friends to run off with once the lesson is over, and he gets to bother you all the way from the classroom door to the staff parking lot. 

You’ve barely finished bidding Auf Wiedersehen to your teacher and Jongseong is already harassing you. “So, I didn’t take you as the type to be into guys like Jake Sim.” He says Jake’s name with such disdain, like he thinks he’s so much better than him, or like he hates him. It confuses you just as much as it annoys you; Jongseong didn’t seem to have a problem with Jake earlier at the library.

“And that’s your business, because…?”

You don’t look at Jongseong, who’s quickened his pace to keep up with yours, but you can feel the smirk on his face. It’s insufferable. “Oh, it’s none of my business. I’m just surprised, is all. You guys are so… I don’t know, different.”

You scoff. “If you think I’m not good enough for someone like Jake, I’d rather you tell me straight up, Jongseong. Or actually,” you say, looking up at him with a dry smile. “Keep it to yourself and leave me alone.”

He looks offended by your words, and it only adds to your already immense annoyance—he’s the one who just insulted you, so why is he looking at you with those stupid furrowed eyebrows?

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“No, Y/N.” He grabs your wrist and makes you face him, your stomach flipping in surprise that you quickly cover up. When he releases you, you cross your arms over your chest and wait for him to speak, keeping your eyes trained on a spot behind him. “I don’t think he’s too good for you.” 

This makes you look at him. You have to admit, your curiosity is piqued. Not like Jongseong to say anything even vaguely in your favor. “He’s just…” He sighs, searches for the right word. “Well, he’s just a bit of a dick, isn’t he?”

You freeze for a second. You’re so taken aback, your scoff comes out more as a laugh—Park Jongseong, king supreme of all dicks at this school, just called Jake Sim a dick?

“I’m sorry?”

He sighs again, as though you’re the unreasonable one. “He’s so… smug. A wannabe class clown and thinks he’s the shit because he’s on the soccer team. Have you seen the way he swaggers around school?”

You look at him with fake sympathy. “Jong, are you jealous?”

“Pfft. No way. I just think it’s a shame you keep going after these dudes who are not even worth your time, or whatever, so yeah…” he says, voice trailing off and looking down at his feet as he speaks. Hands in pockets and blank expression on his face, you can tell he’s trying to look cool, but the way he’s avoiding your gaze is a dead give-away. Even his ears have turned red. Jongseong is having one of those shy moments he has when he’s trying to be nice to you. Clearly, a simple act of kindness towards you is so hard for him that it radically changes the way he behaves. 

Like when you were fifteen and you just couldn’t get this stupid art project right, so he stayed behind for three hours after school with you, helping you draw and paint and cut and glue. 

Like when you were sixteen and your grandma just passed away, making you miss a week of school, and without a word, barely looking at you, he gave you a stack of handwritten notes of all the lessons you missed. To this day, you’re not sure how he did it—you weren’t in the same class that year.

Like when you were seventeen and Park Sunghoon rejected you in the middle of a crowded hallway. You’d run off to the girls’ bathroom to cry it out, but Jongseong quickly found you and spent the entire period cursing Sunghoon out instead of being in English, like you were both meant to be. He was uncharacteristically nice to you for a few days after that, never starting an argument for no reason or interrupting you when you spoke. When you snapped at him, telling him it only made you feel worse that he treated you differently, he smiled and told you how stupid you looked when you cried. It made you laugh more than it should’ve.

Like now, when he suddenly decides that Jake Sim is also a wrong choice for you. “Him and Sunghoon are good friends, you know that?” he says. “Birds of a feather, and all…”

So you know that Jongseong is not all bad. He has his redeeming qualities. He can even be nice sometimes, when he so wishes. But those moments are so few and far between that when he returns to his usual insufferable self, you wonder if you’d dreamt it all up. Which is why you can’t quite take him seriously right now. You roll your eyes and resume walking towards the parking lot, but of course, he continues to follow you. “Why do you even care who I go after?”

“I don’t-”

“You clearly do, otherwise you wouldn’t be bothering me like this.”

“Well, if all your attention is taken up by that douche, who am I going to go up against?”

“That’s what you’re worried about? That I stop arguing with you?” you say, disbelief clear in your voice.

“I’m offended, Y/N,” he starts, his sarcastic tone making you roll your eyes again. “That our little rivalry matters so little to you.”

“We’re not even the top students of our class, for God’s sake, we’re not fighting over anything.”

“I’ve actually got the best grades in German, thanks very much.”

“Whatever. I wouldn’t call it a rivalry so much as a mutual dislike of each other, because one of us woke up one day and decided to start going against everything the other said.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

The exit to the parking lot now appears to you like the gates of heaven. You don’t even bother replying to him, thinking that he’ll just leave you alone now that you’re here. But as you step outside, he places himself in front of you and blocks your path, arms splayed out, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost.

“What are you-”

“Have you done the German homework for tomorrow?”

The sudden change of subject gives you whiplash. “What? No, Miss Schumacher assigned it just now-”

“Well, given your tendency for getting the word order all wrong, I can already tell you you’re not gonna have fun with it-”

You pinch the nose of your bridge, trying to calm yourself down before you lose what’s remaining of your mind. “Jongseong, were you actually dropped on the head as a baby? Go away. My dad’s gonna be here any second.” You try to walk around him, but he steps in front of you again. You peer up at him, undisguised annoyance in your eyes. Where are your dad and brother when you need them?

“I’m just saying, you’ll probably need help with it-”

“I won’t. And if I do, I’ll just use Google. Now get out of my way,” you say, and manage to duck under one of his arms.

Then you see it.

Well, actually, it takes you a second to understand what it is you’re seeing. At first, you think it’s one of those horny couples thinking they’re being really discreet by going to the staff parking lot to make out, when in reality they could be caught by any one at any time. They’re just far enough that when you do a double take, you realize that you do know the back of that head; that fluffy mop of brown hair. You sit behind it every History period, next to it every Maths and English period.

The girl is up against the wall, and you can’t really see her, what with her and Jake’s tongues being down each other’s throat and his body blocking her from your view, his hands on her hips, her arms around his shoulders. All the works. She’s wearing a cheerleader uniform, so she could be any of twenty girls—but you’re pretty sure only one of them wears a pair of white Vans with red love hearts on them.

Your heart sinks to your stomach.

You’re frozen in place when a whistle rings in the distance, and Jake and Yunjin separate, giggling to each other as they jog to wherever the sound came from. The sports field, probably. It’s Monday; the cheerleaders and the soccer team share the field for their practice. 

Jake spots you and Jongseong staring at them. He waves quickly, awkwardly at you, still smiling even when surprise coats his features. Yunjin tugs on his hand and just like that, they’re gone. 

“Y/N-” 

Jay’s voice fades in the background. You want to get away from this situation as quickly as possible—it’s embarrassing enough seeing the guy you like and thought you had a chance with kissing a girl that is arguably much more on his level than you are, but having Jongseong of all people not only witness it, but try to protect you from it, God knows why, makes it impossibly mortifying. You speed-walk to your dad’s car, huffing as you plop in your seat and slamming the door behind you. Your brother is already sitting in the passenger seat, and you don’t even argue with him about it. When you only give single-word replies to his questions, he shrugs and returns to playing Clash of Clans on his phone. 

The moment you get home, you fish a five cent coin from your purse, change into mud boots and grab your dog’s leash. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

After half-an-hour of trudging through leaves and soft ground, muddy from many a rainy November night, you and Pablo, your massive, fluffy airhead of a German Shepherd, find yourselves at the well in the middle of the forest. Ever since you were little, you have attributed magic powers to the well—not that anyone told you any sort of myth about it, but you remember reading a story about a magic well and decided that your well would be magical, too. You’ve never wanted to abuse its powers, so you’ve used your wishes conscientiously: things like getting a certain present at Christmas (when you were nine and the most important thing ever was getting the Monster High doll you wanted) or not stuttering during your presentation in class (when you really didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Park Sunghoon and his cool friends). Every wish you’ve made has come true. Whenever a faint voice of reason tells you that it’s because you always ask for very realistic things, you squash it and continue to believe in the well.

Because today, you’re not asking for something realistic. 

Today, you’re asking the well to show you the way to love.

You’ve grown up watching The Notebook and Pride & Prejudice. Your parents are high school sweethearts who are still, twenty-five years later, happily married. You devour romance novels and binge-watch Asian dramas, the more unrealistic and romantic, the better. You are convinced that soulmates exist, that love always finds a way, that it is there for anyone to see. That it can take form in a childhood friend, an archnemesis, a total stranger.  

But for some reason, it hasn’t shown itself to you yet, no matter how valiantly you’ve looked. 

You’re absolutely sick and tired of it. It is Jake kissing another girl, it’s Sunghoon leading you on for months and then rejecting you in front of everyone, it’s your ex-boyfriend-who-shall-not-be-named, your first love and first heartbreak, dumping you after a year and getting with the girl he had told you not to worry about a week later. At a party a few months later, he’d said, word for word, “At least I didn’t cheat on you.”

Coin lodged between your hands, you interlace your fingers and press your palms closely together, eyes screwed shut in desperation. “Hey,” you start simply, because you and the well are good friends. “It’s been a while since I’ve asked for anything, so I hope you can indulge me… This is gonna sound so cliché, but I’m really tired of getting fucked over by boys — excuse my French — and I just wanna meet the person who’s right for me, you know? Mom’s always reminding me that I’m only eighteen, and that I’ve got plenty of time to meet someone, but I just feel like if I don’t find someone now, I never will. And if I get fucked over again — sorry — I’ll just lose hope and write off men for the rest of my life. So help a girl out, will you? I’ll leave it to you how you wanna go about it, but… just show me that there’s someone out there. Please.”

When you open your eyes, you need a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. You toss the coin in the well. It doesn’t make a sound as it hits the bottom, as if it has been absorbed within the old brick walls. You know better than to question it—the well works in mysterious ways.

You’re quiet that entire evening, making up an excuse of a tiring day at school when your parents ask. Really, you’re just thinking about your wish, whether it’ll work, what might happen. You half-ass your homework—Jay was right, the German exercises throw you into a bout of despair, so you quickly close your textbook and bury yourself in your sheets, falling asleep hours earlier than you usually would.

--

For some reason, the first thing you notice when you wake up is that it’s still dark outside. It must be the middle of the night, you think. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you’re in a completely strange room.

Instead of your floral-patterned sheets, you find yourself covered by delicate silk sheets that your parents would never agree to buy you, no matter how adamantly you argued for the benefits of silk for your skin. If skincare experts online had convinced you of one thing, it was that silk would do wonders for your obstinate acne. You slide out of bed and find a pair of slippers on the floor, as if waiting for you. Even the pajamas you’re wearing are fancier, more grown up than the ones you have at home, a set composed of a pinstriped button-up and shorts. You look around, for some reason more surprised and curious than panicked. You could’ve been kidnapped, for all you know, but all you care about right now is this room. Rather than the pink and white walls that have surrounded you since childhood, covered with pictures of you and your friends, postcards of artwork bought at museums, and posters of your favorite movies, the walls here are beige and mostly bare, except for a painting of Japanese cherry blossoms above the bed and a family portrait on the opposite wall, above a wooden chest of drawers. 

The family portrait. A woman, a man, and what you can only assume are their children. They look like twins—two girls. Can’t be older than three years old. Out of the four faces, you recognize two of them. You recognize them far too well. One of them is yours, of course. You look slightly older, by a decade, maybe? You’re glad to know that you won’t fall off after twenty-five, like much of social media has led you to believe. 

The other face you recognize immediately, too, but it takes you a few seconds to truly believe it.

It belongs to none other than Park Jongseong.

A dry chuckle falls from your throat, as if someone has just made a very insulting joke at your expense and you have to pretend you find it funny. The well has a very odd sense of humor, you think. It’s probably just a prank, a magic-induced nightmare before the real thing. Except this already feels real, disorientingly so. The fabric on your skin, the picture, the room. It all feels too real, more tangible than any dream you’ve ever had.

You take a step closer towards the picture, as if looking at it harder will make Jongseong’s face fade into that of another man, the real man that will become your husband and father of your children. But alas, his features remain the same, frozen in time by the photographer’s camera. He, too, looks older—and not only does he not fall off after twenty-five, he becomes all the more handsome for it.

Is this how you find out that Jongseong was handsome all along? You stare at it until the familiar face becomes practically unrecognizable, like repeating a word so much it stops feeling like one. The straight nose, the almond-shaped eyes that seem to have softened overtime, whereas his jaw has remained as sharp as ever. Have his eyebrows always framed his face so perfectly? Has that dimple always been there? 

You look around again, and the bright numbers on the bedside alarm clock catches your attention. They read 9:57 p.m., but it’s the date that makes your stomach sink—today is still the 18th of November, but ten years later. You stare at the clock, at the unfamiliar number, a date so far into the future you can’t wrap your head around it. You could barely envision life after high school.

Downstairs, the sudden clang of pots and the sound of a tap running manage to rip your gaze away from the alarm clock. An overwhelming curiosity tells you to follow the noise. This is all a dream, so there are no consequences if you explore a bit more, right? 

You’ve never been in this house before, and you have no idea where your feet are taking you until you find yourself in the kitchen. It’s the only lit room in the house, and you’re creepily standing in the dark under a wide archway that connects the kitchen to what looks like the dining room. A man has his back to you, washing dishes and putting them out to dry on a rack next to the sink. He’s wearing a white cotton sweater, one that you feel you recognise without ever having seen before, and a brown apron is tied around his neck and waist. 

The first thing you think to yourself is Oh, his haircut hasn’t changed. In almost every class you share with him, Jongseong has made it a point to sit either next to you or right in front of you, so you’ve spent a lot of time glaring at the back of his head. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started developing two eye-shaped bald spots there. His hair is still short and spiky at the back and on the sides, longer on the top. When he lets it grow too long, it sometimes covers his eyes, and he obnoxiously keeps having to push it back like a heartthrob in an 80s movie. 

Something like a memory flashes through your mind, blurry like those images you aren’t sure came from a dream or from real life. Your surroundings are unclear, but Jay’s face is nestled against your neck, your hand in his hair. You can feel the softness of the close shave against your palm as clearly as if you were touching it right now. You ask him why he’s always kept it that way, and he replies that it’s simple to maintain. Then in classic Jay fashion, he adds, “And it makes me look awesome.”

Another memory, a clearer one, this time—this definitely happened. It’s halfway through sophomore year, a random Tuesday, and Jay walks in, holding his head high and looking smugly around himself. The bastard got a new haircut. Long gone, his messy, unorganized flop of black hair that looked like it didn’t know what it was doing; hello, sleek undercut. It accentuates all of his best features, which is terrible news for you. You had never even thought of Jongseong as someone having “best” features, but now they’re being thrown in your face. His nose. His jawline. His smile.

It ruins your day, and a few after that. You can’t quite put it into words when your friends ask what’s wrong at lunch—or rather, you don’t wanna face the humiliation of uttering something along the lines of “Park Jongseong looks good with his new haircut, and it’s bothering me.”

Here, it’s a familiar sight in an unfamiliar environment, the back of his head. Without really thinking, you take a step forward. Jongseong starts at the sound of your slippers against the marble floor tiles, but his face relaxes into a smile when he sees you.

“Oh, it’s just you, honey. I thought you were sleeping.”

Just you. As if the two of you being in the same kitchen is normal. You guess it must be, to this version of Jongseong. To him, you’re not the annoying girl he strives to best in every class—you’re honey. 

“I was,” you say, walking around the kitchen island to join him by the sink. Something in you needs to look at him, really look at him, maybe pinch yourself or pinch him to be sure you’re not going crazy. Maybe you caught wafts of some ancient algae that lives in the well and made you hallucinate?

“I left a plate out for you in case you woke up. Made your favorite. The girls weren’t so happy, seeing as it’s the third time this month,” he says with the special kind of smile reserved for parents talking about their children. The girls. A mention so casual, so obvious, your heart hurts. “But I think I got it really right this time,” he continues. “Honestly, it might even be better than the original.”

He goes back to washing the dishes and you watch the sponge in his hands as it scrubs away tomato sauce, the soap as it runs from the plates into the sink. A knot forms in your stomach, something like a deep sadness that overwhelms you all of a sudden, and tears form in your eyes, threatening to fall any second.

When you haven’t budged in almost a minute, Jongseong starts to say, in an intimate, almost worried voice, “Aren’t you going to eat, honey?” but when he sees your wet eyes, the tremble in your lower lip, he shuts the water immediately and dries his hands. With his thumbs, he wipes away the tears that have started falling from your eyes. “What’s wrong?” he whispers.

You can’t reconcile the man in front of you with the image you have of the boy that torments you in every class you share. You can’t reconcile the genuine concern in his voice with the snarky tone you’re met with every day. And yet, they respond to the same name, their features are identical, if not for the years that separate them, the stress of adulthood on one and the carefreeness of youth on the other. 

Your body reacts automatically to the soft touch—never in a million years would you let the Jongseong you know come near you like this, but here, nothing feels more natural than his hands on your face, your shoulders, your hair, as though they’re just as much his as they are yours. You realize the emotion in your stomach is not sadness—tears fall, but you’re not sad. You’ve never felt as home as you do now, and if one thing romantic novels have taught you, is that this must be love.

You look up at the man in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as you search his face for confirmation or some sort of an answer. There’s a tremble in your voice when you speak next. “I just… I think I love you, Jongseong.”

He chuckles. “Well, we established that a while ago, didn’t we? What with getting married and having kids. But I’m glad you still feel that way.”

The mention of marriage and children doesn’t faze you nearly as much as it should. You’ve only got one thing on your mind. “Do you love me too?”

You expect him to laugh—not out of cruelty, but because the answer is so obvious, it almost doesn’t deserve to be answered seriously. Like when your brother asks if he can have one more of your cookies and you tell him you’ll cut his hand off. Sometimes you think it’s easier to be sarcastic than be unabashedly nice to someone. Especially with Jongseong, whom you don’t expect kindness or patience from, you wait for him to stay something like, “No, that’s why I’ve stayed with you these eight years.” 

So when instead, he says, “More than anything on this Earth,” voice low and vulnerable, tears flow even harder. 

“Sorry, it’s probably just my period,” you say through sobs, although you have no idea where in her menstrual cycle this version of you is.

Jongseong chuckles again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You do get emotional around this time.” And you cry more, because you can’t believe someone other than your mother knows you so well that they know what your period symptoms are.

Rubbing soothing circles against your back and whispering soft words in your ear, he holds you for as long as you need to calm down. When you finally do, he tells you to go sit on the couch, that he’ll finish up the dishes then heat and bring your food for you. You think you’ve got your emotions under control, but the moment you bite the pasta, cooked to perfection with the most succulent tomato sauce you’ve ever had, sweet with a little kick of spice and a generous amount of parmesan cheese, tears start to fall again as if you had an endless stock of water behind your eyes.

“This is so good,” you mumble.

Jongseong smiles, his gaze full of affection miraculously directed at you as he tucks away strands of your hair so they don’t get in your eyes or in your food. “I’m glad, baby.”

You react to the nickname viscerally, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can even understand them. “You haven’t called me that in ages.” You widen your eyes at yourself, wondering how this was something you even knew. But when you look at Jongseong, all he does is smile more.

“You’re right, I haven’t. I guess I was reminded of college. You cried all the time back then. As much as it pained me, I can’t say I wasn’t happy to be the one you always came to for comfort.”

You haven’t been through college yet, so you should be unable to tell whether this truly happened or not—and yet, the memories of the body you’re in all confirm what Jongseong just said. But it feels impossible—going to university with him, letting yourself be vulnerable enough with him to not only cry in front of him but let him comfort you. Whatever could have happened in the years between the present you know and your time at university for things to change so drastically?

But before you can make sense of any of it, Jongseong speaks again. “Why? Do you like it when I call you baby?”

Your stomach flips. Heat rises to your face at his words, the tone with which he said them, the things he was alluding to—you know that having children means you’d popped your cherry at some point, that you’d had sex with Jongseong specifically, but to be confronted with the fact was something else. 

“Maybe,” you mumble, and proceed to stuff your mouth with pasta so that you can’t incriminate yourself further.

He puts on a recent movie, something you should arguably be paying attention to, since you’re literally getting a glimpse into the future of cinema—you could steal the idea, go back to your present and sell it for an outrageous price.

But Jongseong’s presence next to you makes it impossible to concentrate on anything but him. The warmth emanating from him, the scent of his perfume envelop you, give you a sense of just how real this all is—despite how comfortable being with him like this feels, you’re still not convinced you’re not just in an unsettlingly vivid dream. You take one of his hands in yours, examining each finger, turning his hand over, tracing the lines of his palm, smoothing your thumb over his nails—it’s an undeniably human hand. Warm against yours, slightly rough. He’s started using hand cream, you think, all these winters when his dry hands would crack because of the cold coming up to your mind, teenage Jongseong’s hard refusal to wear any sort of cream to protect himself. Memories bob up to the surface: fixing his cracked hands up with a plaster, your tear falling on his hand, the both of you in your school uniforms in what looks like the school infirmary; awkwardly gifting him some hand cream the Christmas of that year, not looking at him as you hand him the small package. Saying, “It’s a waste of plasters for something that could be fixed so easily.” Him treating you to warm, spicy tteokbokki because he felt bad for not having gotten you anything, even though this was the first time either of you had ever given the other one a present.

As your fingers trail up from his hand to his forearm, his shoulder, his jawline, more memories flood your mind. Clumsy first kisses; squabbles of the kind you were already used to; lazy mornings in bed; hours spent in your kitchen or his, before you shared one, cooking dinner together; the way you felt when he proposed, a feeling so intense remembering it is almost unbearable now. Your eyes and fingers examine his face in detail—even though you’ve seen him almost every day since the start of high school, this feels like the first time you really perceive him. The delicate bow of his lips, the strong nose, the softness in his eyes when he looks at you. Your heart beats uncontrollably as you hold each other’s gazes, but you feel inexplicably relaxed at the same time, two nearly opposing realities fighting each other inside of you—one in which you and Jongseong regarding each other with such affection is unthinkable, the other in which it is daily routine.

“Movie not to your taste?” he asks, voice gentle, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Hm?”

He nods towards the TV screen. “I see you’re not paying much attention.”

“No. I have… things on my mind.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly growing on his lips. “Yeah?” You think your heart might actually flatline when he brings you in closer to his chest, and, face buried in your hair, says, “You know, I’ve been thinking that the twins might want a younger sibling to play with soon enough…”

You’re not sure whether he actually wants a third child or if this is weird dirty talk that apparently turns parents on—all you know is that this is something future you will deal with, not high school senior you. 

You whip up your head at him, eyes wide in panic that he mirrors immediately. “Or—or not. Later. Later?” You nod fervently, and the worry dissipates from his handsome features. “Okay, later,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head before returning his attention to the movie. 

A couple hours later, you’re laying in bed in the dark together—you can tell Jongseong is falling asleep by the regularity of his breathing and his stillness, but you’re wide awake. You don’t know how you’ve managed to spend all this time with him, acting like the wife he knows and loves, without imploding. But suddenly, the idea of waking up in your childhood bed, surrounded by your pink-and-white walls, going downstairs to be greeted by your brother and parents, sends a wave of panic through you. You haven’t felt this comfortable in a long time—Jongseong’s arm draped over your waist, the fact that you could reach over and feel his skin against your palm if you wanted. You don’t want to go back to a time where you hate him. In fact, you don’t know if you could hate him after this.

“Jongseong?” you say softly, the syllables unfamiliar on your tongue, even though the name rings brusquely through your head for the best part of every day.

It takes a few seconds, but he reacts eventually. “Hm? Did you just call me Jongseong?” he murmurs sleepily, as if you’d just called him Robert or Christopher and not the name his own parents gave him.

“Yeah.”

He chuckles. “Now that’s something you haven’t called me in ages. Makes me feel like you’re mad at me,” he says, turning over and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and one of your hands comes up reflexively to feel the softness of his close shave.

“...Jong?” you try.

“That’s a step up, but not quite what I want,” he mumbles.

You’re silent for a few moments. “Honey,” you say tentatively, voice a mere whisper.

“That’s better.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Will you be here in the morning?”

“Mh-hm. It’s Saturday tomorrow.”

“No,” you say, feeling out of breath. “I mean, will you be here?”

You’re aware you’re not making much sense—and yet, Jongseong needs no further explanation. “Of course, baby,” he starts, voice soothing. “I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day afterwards. ‘Til death do us part, remember?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too,” you find yourself saying, and, more importantly, meaning. It’s the last thing either of you says before falling asleep.

--

Tears are streaming down your face when you wake up the next day. When you open your eyes, pink and white obnoxiously stare back at you. The clock reads 7:12, just three minutes before your alarm goes off, and unfortunately for high school you, the night hasn’t given in to Saturday morning—it’s Tuesday, and you have to go to school and act as if you hadn’t just had the weirdest, most realistic dream of your life. You don’t even get a weekend to shake this weird feeling in your stomach off, you’re going to have to face Park Jongseong full force. At least, this will become your friends’ favorite bit for the foreseeable future.

They’re already sitting in the classroom when you get there, animatedly chatting to each other. You plop down in your seat in front of them, and when they see the sullen look on your face, ask you what’s wrong.

“Did you wake up during the night to play Hay Day again?” Kazuha asks, eyebrows knotted with genuine worry.

“I’m not that person anymore,” you reply. “No, I just had a really weird dream. More like a nightmare, really. It feels like I didn’t get any sleep.”

“What was it about?” Sunoo asks.

Your eyes dart back-and-forth between the two of them as you brace yourself for their reactions. Not wanting anyone else to overhear, you lean in conspiratorially. They mirror you. “I was married to Park Jongseong,” you whisper. As expected, they burst into laughter immediately, and you lean back in your seat, crossing your arms in annoyance. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s very funny,” Kazuha retorts. “It’s ironic, even, considering how much you hate the guy.”

“Exactly!”

“But I guess even you know how ridiculous it is that you hate him, if your brain is able to imagine yourself being married to him,” Sunoo adds, shrugging. “It’s a good reminder that you’re literally the only person in this school with a vendetta against him.”

Kazuha nods energetically. “He picked up a pen for me, once. He’s a nice guy.”

You look around the room in panic. “Keep it down, will you?” you hush, despite the fact that no one is paying any attention to the three of you. You sigh, resolving yourself to telling them the entire truth. “But guys, I’m scared. I think this might be a sign.”

Their eyebrows perk up. “A sign that your hatred of him has actually been disguising a crush this entire time?” Sunoo asks, feigning innocence.

“No—what? Where did you get that idea?”

“Nowhere. Go on.”

“Whatever. Come here,” you say, gesturing for them to huddle again. “It’s the well.”

“Oh my God, Y/N, you’ve actually lost it,” Kazuha says, fascinated by your stupidity.

“I’m not going to tolerate any well slander, this is serious. I just wanted it to reassure me that there was someone out there for me. And then I had that stupid dream.”

Kazuha and Sunoo exchange a look like they’re parents trying to announce to their daughter that she’s adopted. “Y/N…” Sunoo starts.

“This is crazy. Like, love philters and writing Park Sunghoon’s name a hundred times are one thing, this is…”

“Crazy,” Sunoo said, nodding along. “This is crazy. There’s no other word for it. Your eighteen years of boyfriendlessness have finally caught up to you.”

“You guys don’t get it. What about that time I asked it to give me a good grade on our Literature exam and I literally came first out of our class? Or when I told it I missed Jung Hae-in and his military discharge announcement came the next day?” you say, aware that the look in your eyes is only confirming their suspicions—but you need someone to believe you, or at the very least understand you.

“One, you’re a good student. Two, that was pure coincidence,” Sunoo explains.

“But girl, if you want to marry Jay, that’s fine. You’ve got our blessing,” Kazuha says, shrugging.

“Yeah. He picked up her pen, once,” Sunoo adds.

“And you know, you guys clearly have some sort of chemistry.”

You scoff. “If you think that him refuting my every word and finding every opportunity to make fun of me, then yeah, I guess you could say we have chemistry.”

“You guys have banter,” Kazuha says as if it’s obvious.

“Oh, please. Banter is cute. I want to kill him every time he opens his mouth.”

Your friends both roll their eyes. “While I understand that most men are better off staying quiet—no offense, Sunoo—”

“None taken.”

“You have to admit Jay is not nearly as insufferable as you make him out to be,” Kazuha says.

“Are you kidding me? He’s always acting like a child. Rubbing it in my face when he gets a better grade, trying to start arguments for no reason, sucking up to teachers, stealing my erasers, for God’s sake, you’d think he’s twelve. I know that I’m not on the majority's side, but I seriously cannot understand how other people tolerate him at all.”

Sunoo sighs. “Because he’s nice to everyone. He never hesitates to help people, he’s even funny, sometimes, and—well, look at him.” He nods his head towards the door, and when you turn around, Jongseong is indeed walking in the classroom. “He’s not a bad-looking boy.”

“Gosh, Sunoo, maybe you should marry him,” Kazuha says, but since you laid your eyes on Jongseong, you’ve stopped listening.

You feel weird. You look at him, and you feel weird. It’s the same feeling you had during your sleep last night, a feeling that paralyzes you from head to toe, that starts in your stomach and spreads to your entire body, weighs you down in your chair. 

“Hey, guys,” he greets simply, and his voice wraps itself around your heart and squeezes. You can’t do anything but watch him as he takes his seat next to you, plopping his bag on the table and taking his notebook out. He looks at you, watches you watching him, then swivels around in his chair.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asks your friends.

“She had a dream that she m—”

“Do not finish that sentence, Zuha, if you want to live to see another day.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replies, a satisfied little smile on her lips.

Despite yourself, you’re still staring at Jongseong, trying to figure out what the hell these emotions are that are raging up a storm inside of you. Instead of ignoring you, he turns to face you, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm as he stares back at you, smirking. “What’s up, Y/N? Has it finally dawned on you how devastatingly handsome I am?” he asks, and you frown, because he’s not so far off from the truth.

“Please, kids, it’s 9 a.m., don’t flirt right in front of us,” Sunoo says, despair in his voice.

“She’s the one who started it,” Jongseong replies, still looking at you, his smirk growing.

For some reason, this startles you out of your trance, and you look away from him like you’ve been burned, preoccupying yourself instead with your notes for this class. “In your dreams, Jongseong,” you mumble.

“More like in yours,” Kazuha says, her and Sunoo giggling.

“Zuha!” you exclaim. Jongseong looks at you with raised eyebrows, and with his infuriating capacity to put two and two together, you’re scared he’s figured out what she meant, but you’re literally saved by your teacher who walks in at that moment and starts the class. 

The second the bell rings to signify the end of the class, you hurriedly pack your things and mutter an excuse about needing the bathroom, trying to get as far away as possible from the boy whose all-too familiar scent had messed with your thoughts all class, whose every brush of his arm against yours had made your heart race uncontrollably.

--

It hadn’t just been a dream. It couldn’t have been.

Just like there was no doubt the 28-year-old Jongseong from last night had once been the annoying boy you knew, the 18-year-old Jongseong was sure to one day become the husband of your dreams. A devoted partner and father, his presence comforting, his good looks indeed devastating, unwavering.

There was no mistake to be made. The well had worked its magic.

Whether you liked it or not, you would end up marrying Park Jongseong. You, of all people; him, of all people.

Was there already something of your future husband in the boy that snickered when you mixed up your genders in German class, or would he one day spring out of nowhere? Apparently, you’d be around to find out.

But for now, how to act around him? It felt unfair that you were privy to this knowledge of your shared future while he was ignorant of it. Blissfully, perhaps. You couldn’t imagine that he would rejoice much at this news.

Your mind is somewhere else the entire day. At lunch, your other friends try to get the thing that’s obviously bothering you out of you, but Kazuha and Sunoo are there to tell them not to bother. You’d needed to tell someone about it, but you don’t want the entire school to know about your marital premonitions. The two knuckleheads you call your best friends are already doing a good enough job teasing you about it—”There’s your husband, Y/N,” when Jongseong walks past; “So have you thought of baby names? Kayleigh and Mackayleigh, perhaps?” unsolicited, during Physics. You turn around to check on the culprit — because yes, Jongseong is the culprit here, you, a mere a victim — and when he notices you staring, nods at you as if to say, What’s your problem?, trying to look threatening in his white lab coat that’s three sizes too big and protective goggles.

It doesn’t help that Jongseong has a way of hovering around you. Even in classes in which your teachers assigned the seats for you, he’s never far from your seat. The two of you sit next to each other in German, your last class every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. But today, the seat next to you is empty—what would’ve been a cause for celebration just yesterday is now a source of worry. You’d seen him just two hours ago in your previous class together, so where the hell was he now? He’s lucky that your teacher is an old German lady who always spends the first ten minutes of the lesson rambling about something in dialectal German no one understands but nods along to anyway. When he walks into the room, five minutes late, she just says, “Hallo, Jay,” and continues with her story. It’s about her first school trip to Berlin when she was fifteen and the country was still divided. You think.

He winks at you when he takes his seat and you roll your eyes. You pretend to listen to your teacher for thirty seconds, then hit him gently with your elbow. “Where were you?” you ask without looking at him.

He doesn’t answer immediately, probably surprised you initiated a non-hostile conversation with him for once. “I was just hanging out with my friends, something you clearly wouldn’t understand.”

And your friends wondered why you hated him?

“Still having imaginary friends at eighteen is really concerning, Jongseong. You should see someone about it.”

When you glance at him, he’s already looking right at you, smiling. You’ve never felt so conscious of your side profile. 

“Why? Were you worried?” he whispers, kicking your foot with his.

You look at him, horrified—where the hell had he gotten that idea? How was he so spot-on? You scoff, trying to diffuse the tension inside yourself. “No.”

He kicks your foot again. “I was five minutes late and you started to worry?”

“No. Stop.”

“I didn’t know you cared about me so much, Y/N.”

This time, you give him a harsh look, one that lets him know you really mean your words—“Stop it.” Finally, he relents, getting the assigned homework out now that the teacher has actually started the lesson. Your face softens—he looks hurt. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings.

Despite what you might say, you like the way things are with Jongseong. If some people always need to be crushing on someone, you always need to have someone you perceive as an enemy—it was Na Jaemin in elementary school, because he’d once made fun of your incapability to climb the monkey bars; Shin Ryujin, in middle school, for kissing your crush during a game of spin-the-bottle at your own birthday party; Park Jongseong, since freshman year, for simply existing. Your reasons for disliking him are trivial, you’ll admit. You weren’t sure you could even place a finger on what had first triggered your disdain towards him—one too many awful jokes, one too many times raising his hand in class and rattling off a perfect answer, then looking around himself proudly, one too many roars of laughter heard throughout the entire cafeteria. The fact that no one else seemed to be bothered by him only added to your aggravation. He just got on your nerves, and it seemed that you openly showing your dislike of him — him, who was so used to being loved by everyone around him, pampered by his family, praised by his teachers, popular among his peers — was enough to make him dislike you, too. So, after a few failed attempts at trying to be your friend, because Jongseong was unable to not be friends with everyone he met, he didn’t simply give up. 

If he couldn’t be your friend, then fine, he’d be your enemy.

At least, that’s how it appears to you, still now. It’s never gone dangerously far, but if there’s an opening to tease you or get on your nerves, he’ll do it. Not passing you the ball during soccer, or conversely, only aiming for you during dodgeball, not sharing his textbook with you when you forgot it unless you beg, loudly clearing his throat when you speak in class. And, lately, pouring salt on your wounds in the form of reminding you how impossible you and Jake Sim are. His motto must be if there’s a will, there’s a way. And when it comes to making your life hell, his will is infinite.

Everything is upside-down now. The question of how your relationship can possibly go from this to that obsesses you. It feels like you’re more capable of sharing a funeral, dying at each others’ hands, than a wedding. 

“Jong, your textbook.”

He squints at you. “Funny how I’m Jongseong when you hate me, Jong when you need a textbook,” he says, sliding his book closer to himself.

“It’s not my fault your name is a mouthful,” you retort, trying to pull it back to the middle of the table, but he’s quicker than you.

“Then maybe you should call me Jay, like everyone else on Earth.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Now give it here. Please?” you ask, mustering your best smile. Any other teacher would’ve scolded the two of you by now, but Ms. Schumacher is peacefully going on about the importance of word order and punctuation in the German sentence, oblivious to her two students bickering in the back row. Jongseong usually never sits at the back of the classroom—only here.

He gives in, smiling back, but there’s something behind it, something that tells you nothing good is brewing in his brain. “Only because you’re so pretty.”

Normally, this kind of remark would’ve warranted a slap on the arm or an array of insults, but if today is anything, it is not normal. You look at him like you’ve been stung, visions of your not-dream coming to you in flashes like you’re the titular character on That’s So Raven—the affection in your husband’s eyes, the kindness in his words, the sincerity in his smile. Again, you’re left to wonder if this man is already taking root inside of the boy next to you, if Jongseong’s future capacity to love you presently exists in his heart.

Does your future capacity to love him already exist in your heart?

You watch as his smirk softens into a grin, your flusteredness and lack of a response clearly amusing him, then as he circles the exercises Ms. Schumacher is assigning for the lesson. She seems to have forgotten there was homework due—Jongseong will be sure to remind her of it quickly.

He kicks your foot again, tells you to focus. His ears have turned red.

You wonder if those capacities haven’t existed from the start.

--

As much as you love a good friends-to-lovers story, characters hiding their feelings out of fear of ruining the friendship have never failed to frustrate you — just tell her, you dummy, it’s obvious she likes you too — and yet, you’ve never related more than now.

Whatever it is that you and Jongseong have, you don’t want to lose it. It adds entertainment to your otherwise average life. 

“Good thing she didn’t pick on you while we went over the homework, ‘cause you clearly put zero effort in. And I wouldn’t have helped you, even if you’d asked, by the way.”

You hum absent-mindedly as you put your notebook and pencil holder in your bag. Are you sure that these are even your feelings in the first place? Just because the well put a silly idea in your head doesn’t mean you have to believe it like it’s scripture. If what you saw is real, then it will happen in its own time. Things don’t have to start changing right this instant.

“Gosh, Y/N, what’s up with you today? You’re so boring,” Jongseong continues, following you out of the classroom. 

“Just tired,” you reply. Wouldn’t it be unnatural if you were to radically alter the way you behave with Jongseong? Love should come about organically. Sure, his presence has always provoked some kind of reaction within you, but that’s usually been annoyance. Whether he’s stealing the fifth eraser you’ve bought that month or running on the soccer field, beads of sweat running down his temples, hair sticking out everywhere, victoriously smiling when his team scores—you’re annoyed. Whether he’s sticking up his hand higher than yours or going to the school dance with Ahn Yujin—you’re annoyed. When you learned that she’d been his neighbor since infancy and that she had a boyfriend, who went to another school and only trusted Jongseong to take her to the dance, you were still annoyed—this time at yourself for feeling even the tiniest bit relieved that nothing was going on between them.

And this — his quick steps trying to keep up with yours, his dumb story about yogurt coming out of Heeseung’s nose today at lunch when they were laughing too hard — yes, you’re still annoyed. But you realize you’re not annoyed at him.

You’re annoyed at how he makes you feel.

“Y/N?” he says, but you’re too deep in your thoughts, only vaguely registering the sound until he repeats it, louder this time, and grabs your hand, making you abruptly stop walking. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” he asks with genuine concern in his voice. “You’re barely listening to me. I mean, it’s not like you usually really do, but you’d have told me to get lost, like, five minutes ago now…”

He chuckles self-deprecatingly, but despite his words, you’re focusing on something else yet again. His hand on yours, his loose hold on your fingers. Your brain is yelling at you—hold his hand, hug him. It’s like there are still traces of the 28-year-old version of you you visited yesterday, urging you to behave like her and not 18-year-old you. 

So, the well had let you know that you need not look much further to find what you wanted. Here it is, in the form of a boy you have convinced yourself you hated, and hated you, and yet, he’s holding your hand, asking you if you’re okay, worry knotting his eyebrows together. 

Hold his hand. Hug him. Instead, you retract your hand, let it fall limply by your side. Jongseong’s eyebrows shoot up.

He’s so close, the supposed love of your life. You don’t know how to reach out to him.

For now, you smile. “Get lost, Jong.”

--

you guys how the hell do i act around jongseong now that i know our fates are romantically intertwined

kazuha i think not treating him like the number one public enemy would be a good start

you so what… be nice to him? how do i do that

sunoo oh my god y/n when she has to treat another person like a regular human being

you he’s not just another person!

sunoo okayyyyy i see you little miss repressed feelings

you i hate u

kazuha just don’t roll your eyes at everything he says anymore and don’t start arguments for no reason

you he’s the one who starts them… but okay i’ll try

--

“Let’s pair up for the reading analysis today. You can stay with your deskmate or pick a partner, I don’t mind as long as you get the work done. I’m talking about you, Chaewon and Yuri. This is English class, not a gossip session.”

The second your English teacher has finished speaking, Jongseong swivels in his chair. “Let’s partner up, Y/N?”

“What about me?” Jake asks, eyes darting back-and-forth between the two of you.

“You can partner up with Minju,” Jongseong replies, pointing to the girl he’s usually seated next to. “Look. You guys will be great together. Say hi, Minju.” Minju waves shyly at Jake, braces on display as she smiles ecstatically. It’s not everyday that she gets to talk to one of the most popular guys in school.

Jake reluctantly switches seats with him, glancing back at you and Jongseong who just grins at him, fake friendliness plastered on his lips, until he turns around again. Your new partner’s smile softens and reaches his eyes when he looks at you. “Hi.”

You have to look away—you feel your face burn under his gaze. “Hi, Jong.”

He tilts his head. “What? Do you hate me so much that you can’t even look at me now?” he asks, and you can’t tell whether he’s joking or genuine.

You frown. “I don’t hate you.”

“Oh? That’s a recent development.”

“I guess,” you mumble after a few seconds. Is it really? You suddenly can’t remember if you ever really hated him, or if you’d exaggerated your own feelings.

His smile widens. “Well, good. I mean, you were going to have to realize at some point that I really am funny, smart, endearing, handsome-”

“Back to hating.”

“Let’s start the assignment.”

You agree on reading the passage first, but you realize halfway through that not a single word has been absorbed. “Hey. Why did you switch seats with him?” you ask, whispering so as not to be overheard.

Jongseong shrugs. “I thought you wouldn’t want to work with him, considering…”

“Right.” You’re silent again, but only for a bit. “What’s it to you?” you mumble. 

He scoffs. “Sorry for trying to be considerate.”

“That’s not—”

“Let’s just focus on this.”

His sudden coldness vexes you. You know you should let it go — don’t start arguments for no reason, and all that — and you know it’s childish, but you can’t help yourself. You have certain reflexes you’re not particularly proud of when it comes to one Park Jongseong. “Let’s just focus on this,” you repeat, mocking his grumbling tone of voice and shaking your head like a puppet.

He glares at you. “Can you not act like a toddler for once?”

“Can you not be a dick for once?” you bite back.

“Y/N, Jongseong, I’m sure you’re having a fascinating conversation on the use of chiaroscuro in the text?” your teacher asks, a look of warning on his face.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, embarrassed.

“Yes, so much chiaroscuro,” Jongseong mumbles, resting his cheek on his knuckles. When the teacher has turned away, he kicks your foot. “See, you’re getting us in trouble.”

“Do you even know what chiaroscuro is?” 

He hesitates. “That’s not the problem here. You are.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t-”

“Y/N, Jay, final warning.”

“Sorry,” you both say at the same time. With one last glare at each other, you finally get to work.

So your plan to start getting along with Jongseong isn’t in full-force yet. On the drive back home that afternoon, you reassure yourself that these things take time. When the moment is right, the two of you will grow closer.

--

But increasingly, it feels as though the right moment will never come.

Two months have passed since your visit to the well, and things between you and Jongseong have not changed. Not really, at least.

You still bicker like cat and dog — it goes without saying that you’re the cute puppy and he’s the heartless cat — and he gets as much on your nerves as ever, especially now that you know that the potential to be nice to you, to love you, even, exists somewhere inside him. Somewhere deeply hidden perhaps, but somewhere nonetheless. Of course, after telling yourself that what must come will come of its own accord, you haven’t done much to change the dynamic between the two of you. But if you used to see your retaliations against him as necessary to your survival, you now find some sort of enjoyment in them—some might call it Stockholm Syndrome, you perceive it as a step in the right direction. You’ve followed one of Kazuha’s pieces of advice: you don’t roll your eyes at him anymore, simply because you don’t feel the need to. You argue with him with a smile on your face, his attempts at insulting or annoying you have started to make you laugh.

He doesn’t say anything but seems to gladly welcome this change. If you get a lower grade than him on a test, he doesn’t try to stick the knife in further, but genuinely offers to go over it with you later. If you give in after two hours of tearing your hair out over a German exercise and text him for help, he doesn’t make fun of you. If he says something particularly arrogant or makes a really bad joke, all you need to do is give him a look, and he’ll mumble an apology. 

Could it have been like this the entire time? you wonder, watching him across the schoolyard as he and Heeseung hunt for Pokémon. Just a couple months ago, you would’ve scrunched your nose at the sight, making fun of him for his childish interests. Now, you notice the way he laughs, audible all the way to where you sit with Kazuha and Sunoo, the way he jumps excitedly and points at things only he and his friend see, and all you feel is endearment.

“Look at you, look at that,” Sunoo says as he hits you on the forehead with his metal spoon, startling you. He tuts. “You’ve got love dripping from your eyes, sweetie.”

“Sunoo, that’s disgusting.”

“Love? I know.”

“No, your spoon. Your saliva’s all over that,” you say, and all he does is eat another mouthful of his yogurt while staring wide-eyed right at you. When you look back at Jongseong, he’s high-fiving Heeseung. You wonder which creature he’s caught now. In the library yesterday, he spent thirty minutes showing you every single one he had captured so far instead of revising for the upcoming Physics test.

“Yeah, we know you’d like someone else’s saliva more,” Kazuha chimes in, and the two of them snort.

“It’s not like that,” you say, biting into an apple slice.

“Oh yeah? What’s it like, then?” Kazuha asks.

“We’re… becoming friends,” you say, but you’re not sure who you’re trying to convince more.

“Y/N, I’ve had to watch the two of you giggling to yourselves in the library one too many times to believe you’re friends. I know your homework’s not that funny,” Sunoo argues.

“Friends can giggle with each other!” you exclaim, but your friends are inflexible.

“I would tell you to get yourself together if you giggled at me like that,” he says.

“I saw you twirl your hair the other day,” Kazuha adds.

“I never—When?!”

She shrugs. “The other day.”

You deflate, crushed under your friends’ accusations. “I wouldn’t twirl my hair…” you mumble. You decide to busy yourself with your apple slices, not even bothering to find out what Kazuha and Sunoo start snickering and elbowing each other about.

“Hey,” a familiar voice greets, making you look up. Jongseong smiles at you and steals an apple slice from your tupperware as he sits down next to you, Heeseung across from him.

“Hi, Jong,” you say, sitting up straighter. You offer a piece of fruit to Heeseung but he declines, saying he doesn’t like apples without peanut butter.

In front of you, your friends exchange a look, and you’re immediately terrified of what they’ll do next. Leaning in, they place their elbows on the table, and Kazuha starts them off. “Jay, you and Y/N know each other pretty well, right?”

Jongseong glances at you, eyes wide. “Uh, sure.”

“Have you ever noticed her, say, twirling her hair?” Sunoo asks, tilting his head innocently at the poor boy by your side.

You’ve never seen him look so confused. “Um, yeah, she does that when she’s concentrating on something, sometimes…”

They lean back. “Huh,” Kazuha says, studying Jongseong’s face.

“Interesting. Very interesting,” Sunoo says, slowly nodding.

You glare at your friends. “See, that’s different,” you tell them. “I was concentrating on something, not doing… whatever you guys had in mind.”

Jongseong looks at you. “What did they have in mind?”

You answer before either of them can dig your grave any deeper. “Nothing. It’s nothing. We were just having a stupid conversation.” You muster your most convincing smile, and the subject is finally dropped.

No one says anything for a few moments, until Heeseung decides to speak up: “You should’ve seen Jay earlier, Y/N. He caught this super rare version of Pikachu earlier, it was awesome.”

“Dude…” Jongseong murmurs.

“What?” Heeseung asks, his enthusiasm quickly dissolving into confusion. Jongseong just shakes his head. Thankfully for all of you, the bell rings then, and you head to class. The three of them walk in front of you while you and Jongseong fall back a step.

“Why were you guys sitting outside? It’s freezing today,” he asks you. Walking side-by-side like this, you can’t help but notice the inches he has over you, the broadness of his shoulders in comparison to yours.

“They turned the heat way too high in the cafeteria, so we came outside for some fresh air,” you explain. He’s right, the air is chilly today—it’s a few days into December, and the temperatures have been accordingly low.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Your heart skips a beat. One of the side effects of not being at each other’s throat anymore was that you got more and more often to be privy to this side of Jongseong—attentive, considerate, kind. What you once thought were his moral attempts at not being so mean to you all the time, you found out was actually his real nature. He wasn’t a prick who was sometimes nice, he was a nice person who turned into a prick with you. Whether the fault lay on him or you was another debate.

“No, I’m alright,” you say, but your body decides to betray you and makes you sneeze three times in a row.

“Bless you,” Jongseong says, laughing. “Here.” You try to stop him, pushing his hands away, but he takes his gloves off and forces them in your palms.

“I’m going to be inside for the next four hours, Jong, I’ll be fine. Keep them.”

“No, it’s okay. Just so you can warm up quicker.”

You eventually give in, putting the gloves over your hands, laughing at the extra fabric that hangs off the tip of your fingers. But when you look at Jongseong’s now-bare hands, something catches your attention. Stopping in the hallway, you grab one of them, examining the cuts on his knuckles. “You need to wear hand cream, Jong, your hands are too chapped.”

He lets you turn his hand over, smooth over his skin, do the same thing with his other hand. “Men don’t wear hand cream,” he says, a grin on his lips.

You burst out laughing. “I think that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Seriously, though, I don’t like the way it feels. Too sticky.”

“You just need to get a quick-absorption one.” Then, you make the terrible mistake of looking up from his hand and meeting his eyes—you gasp silently, his gaze and soft smile transporting you right back to that night, the images of 28-year-old and 18-year-old Jongseong mixing into each other, becoming indistinct from each other. Your gaze drifts down to his lips — chapped, too, when they’re usually plumper, rosier — and his hand, still in yours, balls into a fist. The second bell rings and you both take a step back, eyes meeting again for a brief moment before looking down at the floor. With uncharacteristically shy, embarrassed words of parting, you make your separate ways to your next classes.

“That was beautiful, Y/N,” Sunoo says, waiting for you by the door, and you walk past him without so much as a glance.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

--

sunoo jay and y/n almost kissed earlier

kazuha WHAAAAT

you KIM SUNOO.

kazuha WHEN?????

sunoo right before class after the lunch break y/n was sooo embarrassed afterwards lol

you we did NOT almost kiss you’re talking out of your ass

kazuha i can’t believe i missed this fml

you YOU DIDNT MISS ANYTHING NOTHING HAPPENED

sunoo be serious u guys we’re standing inches apart

you were* and no we weren’t

sunoo oh stfu it was autocorrect i saw it w my own eyes y/n… you WERE literally holding his hand and staring into those beautiful eyes of his

kazuha sunoo…?

sunoo what can’t a man acknowledge another man’s objective attractiveness if i was y/n i would’ve folded the moment i saw him

you literally one of the first times he talked to me was to make fun of my handwriting

sunoo yeah he’s on his tsundere shit i fw it

you …

sunoo anyways zuha you shouldve seen it when the bell rang they practically leaped away from each other and u didnt know what to do w yourselves afterwards likeeee it was so obvi what you both were thinking of

kazuha cuuuute

you i resent these accusations.

sunoo istg if u dont kiss him next time i will

kazuha ???

you SUNOO?

sunoo WHAT

--

Something happens a few days before the start of winter break.

Ms. Schumacher is absent, gone off to Germany to visit her family there—she has enough seniority in the school that they let her abandon her responsibilities as a teacher once in a while. A week is too short a period of time for them to bother finding a substitute. It’s usually your last class of the day, but you have to wait around for your dad to be done working, so while most of your classmates have gone home early, you sit with about six other people in the unsupervised study room, absent-mindedly jotting down tid-bits of dialogue for your new story idea, too preoccupied with Jongseong’s absence to really pay attention to anything else. It’s fifteen minutes after the hour, but he’s nowhere to be found, although you know for a fact that he takes those weird Molecular Gastronomy cooking classes your Chemistry teacher offers for extra credit every Thursday after school, so he should be here. And anyways, if he’d gone home, he would’ve texted you something like, Have fun sitting around for an hour, I’m gonna go do awesome stuff with Heeseung, even if awesome stuff meant playing Mario Kart or drinking Sprite and holding a two-person burping contest.

You’re so engrossed in your own thoughts that you pay no mind to the sudden ding of a phone in the room, followed by some gasps and heated whispers. The exchanged words go through one ear and out the other—There was a fight? In the locker rooms? It must be bad if they were sent to the nurse before the principal… Huh? Over who? So he took both of them on? Damn, I didn’t know Jay got like that. He seems so well-behaved.

Your head whips up at the mention of your friend’s name. “Jay? Did something happen to him?” you ask out loud, the whispers dying down immediately as everybody stares at you. 

Gaeul, who was in your class last year, is the only one who answers you. Holding up and waving her phone, she says, “They say he got into a fight.”

Jongseong? A fight? It sounds like a practical joke. He admitted to you he once started crying watching Heeseung playing Call of Duty, it was so violent. You shake your head. “He-he did? With who?”

Gaeul and the girl next to her exchange a concerned, almost guilty look. “Jake and Sunghoon.” The crease between your eyebrows deepened. You don’t need to ask anything else before she adds, “They’re at the nurse’s station. It sounds pretty bad…”

That’s enough for you to leap out of your chair and run to the nurse’s station. It seems the news has spread impossibly quickly among your year group—even Kazuha and Sunoo are already blowing your phone, asking you if you’ve heard, if you know how Jay is. You ignore them, reminding yourself to text them back later, until one message from Sunoo in particular catches your attention: It apparently started because Sunghoon said something about you, Y/N. They’re saying Jay got angry.

The nurse is busy on the phone when you get there, her back to the entrance, so you’re able to slip in unnoticed. You head to the adjoining room where the beds are, all three of them taken—you walk by Sunghoon first, his arms crossed over his chest and pointedly not looking at you, then by Jake, who calls out your name. You glare at him and pull on the white plastic curtain that separates his bed from Jongseong’s. They’re already going to hear you, you don’t need them seeing you on top of that. 

Jongseong sits up with a grunt when you appear at the end of his bed. The sight of him makes your stomach flip, and not in a good way, for once—his left eye is swollen and circled by a deep purple bruise, shiny with ointment, there’s a cut on his cheek, his lower lip is busted, his right hand is wrapped in bandages. “Oh my God,” you whisper as you help him up, voice breaking. He stares at his hands, jaw locking when you gently place one palm on his good hand, the other on the side of his face, moving it this way and that so you can take a better look at his injuries. He winces, and you let go, resting your hand on his shoulder instead. “What the hell got into you?” you whisper vehemently, unable to decide if you’re worried or angry or both as tears form in your eyes.

He tries to shrug, but even that seems to hurt. “Don’t shrug, Jongseong, tell me what happened.”

“I’m Jongseong again now?” he says, attempting a smile, but only one corner of his lips rises.

You sigh. Even in this state, he has to be a smart-ass. “You’re Jong when I need a textbook, Jongseong when you get into stupid fights,” you reply, and he smiles wider but immediately winces, hand coming up to the cut on his lip. You notice that his hand is still riddled with cracks, and whether they’re due to their dryness or to this fight doesn’t matter—”Wait here,” you say, and go rummage through some drawers for plasters. “She forgot some spots.” You feel Jongseong’s eyes on your face as you patch him up to the best of your abilities.

“I don’t want to tell you what happened. I’ll do the job of hating these idiots for the both of us, so don’t concern yourself with them,” he says, apparently not caring that the idiots in question can hear his every word.

He keeps his promise—you never hear another word from him about the cause of the fight. 

Later, you find out through other means, namely Sunoo’s questionably remarkable ability to unearth any and all gossip, that in the locker rooms after Phys Ed, someone had started Jake on the topic of Yunjin, who had been recently revealed as his girlfriend. They’d apparently kept it secret because it was just fooling around at first, and only later had gotten serious enough for them to parade around the school as the couple. 

It had been an unremarkable conversation until Jake said, “You guys know Y/N from our class? She saw us in the staff parking lot once, and I was sure we’d be busted then. But she didn’t tell anyone.” And just like that, the conversation turned to you, someone who was usually never a topic among these boys, jocks, soccer players, “the kind of people who peak in high school and still have a superiority complex at forty,” as Sunoo describes them. 

He has a harder time explaining what happened next, can’t quite look you in the eye as he recounts what was said. “So, this is what they say, apparently someone said that you used to be obsessed with Sunghoon, then with Jake, and Sunghoon said you… Well, he said you were pathetic, that asshole, and that you had been so easy to lead on, then Jake joined in, saying the same things, basically, how funny it was seeing you so obviously in love with him when he would never give you a chance…” He looks at you worriedly, but you tell him to go on. “And so that’s when Jay got up and just straight-up punched Jake in the face. And while Jake was trying to figure out what happened, Jay punched Sunghoon, and then they both got on him, pushing him, but when he wouldn’t stop throwing punches, they started fighting, too. I think they all got some good ones in before the other boys were able to break them apart and the P.E. teacher arrived…”

But that would be later. Now, sitting with Jongseong in the nurse’s station, tears falling onto the plasters you place on his hand, nothing matters but him. You don’t need the details—he’s hurt, he got hurt over you, you feel as though every cut on his body may well have been done by your own hand. You’ve never felt so guilty for something you didn’t do. Your voice trembles when you speak; you’re unable to look at him, at his busted eye. “I just don’t want you to get hurt for me.”

Without missing a beat, he says, “What else would I get hurt for?”

You can only meet his eyes for a split second. Even like this, he manages to look at you with the same softness that has haunted you since the night you met 28-year-old Jongseong, that has rendered all thoughts of anything other than him meaningless since the day your gaze drifted down to his lips just weeks ago. “Jong…” is all you can mutter as you look down at your hands holding each others’, your lips trembling.

He raises his bandaged hand, still not used to his dominant side being ineffective for now, then lowers it when he realizes. Clumsily, he pats your hair with his left hand. “Don’t cry, please…”

Jake’s head pops out from behind the curtain. “Y/N, I’m really sorry—”

“Not right now, man,” Jay quickly interrupts. Jake pathetically disappears behind the curtain again.

“Just promise me you won’t do this again.”

“Y/N…”

“Promise me,” you say, more demanding this time, sticking out your pinky finger. Jay, hesitant, looks between your outstretched finger and your face a few times, but eventually gives in.

The nurse, upon coming to check on the boys, catches you with Jongseong and chases you out immediately. You sulk back to study hall, where everyone’s head perks up the moment you walk in. “They’re okay,” you reassure vaguely, and unenthusiastically answer their many questions. It’s only a few minutes until the bell rings, and you’re free to go then.

--

jong so… guess who got a five-day suspension

you you idiot what did your parents say?

jong they’re not happy i have to do all the household chores for a month

you boo-hoo

jong not sure why i came here thinking i’d get some comfort…

you … are you feeling better?

jong a little bit the nurse gave us some really strong painkillers but i’m okay because there’s a pretty girl that’s going to drop off the homework for me after school every day :)

you oh did you ask chaewon to do that?

jong um no i was talking about you ..if that’s okay

you haha i know i just wanted you to say it straight up

jong ykw maybe i should just ask chaewon

you i’ll see you tomorrow jong!!

jong :) see you tomorrow pretty 

 --

The months that separate your return to school and graduation come and go in the blink of an eye. Jongseong can’t come to school the last day before the holidays or the first four days after, and he’s grounded in-between. Things change bit by bit with every day you visit him—To give him the homework, you tell his parents, although there isn’t much to do when the semester isn’t in full swing, and you could’ve easily sent him pictures. The first time, you spend more time scouring the pictures and trinkets in his room than actually talking to him, and awkwardly give him a half-hug when he tells you he won’t be able to hang out at all during the break before practically running out of his house, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute from the innocent contact. By the fourth time, you lie together on his bed and talk about your plans for college, your hands sitting centimeters apart on the navy sheets. You haven’t dared touch his hand since that day in the nurse’s station.

You’re window-shopping with Kazuha when you spot the hand cream you had seen yourself gifting Jongseong in your well-given vision. Buying it is one thing, actually giving it to him is another, an awkward, stuttery situation in which the wrapping done by the store employee suddenly seems over-the-top and out-of-place. But Jongseong seems to like it—it’s the last day of his suspension, his black eye is now a yellow-ish color, he can smile without risking splitting his lip in two. He applies it immediately, tells you he’ll make sure to wear it every day until the end of winter. You find yourself wishing there was something you could give him for every season so he wouldn’t go a day without thinking of you. When you leave, he bashfully thanks you for making sure he doesn’t fall behind and says he’s excited to see you at school the next day. You hardly know what to do with yourself, so you squeak out a “me too” and slip out the door.

His first day back is a Friday. It starts with Mathematics, a class in which you sit by each other. You remember the first week of classes when Kazuha and Sunoo had ran to sit with each other, expressly because they knew that if he saw you were sitting alone, he’d take the seat next to you, just to better torment you all year. You’d resented it then; it couldn’t make you happier now. Your body is humming with nervous energy, your foot tapping relentlessly against the tiled floor. When he appears in the doorframe, you wave at him as if he’d forgotten his seat in three weeks of absence. His elbow brushes against yours as he sits down.

Between the two of you, friendship blossoms over these months. To the detriment of everyone around you, you continue to bicker as you always have, but it’s now clearly done out of habit, out of affection, even, than out of actual dislike of each other. He and Heeseung slowly integrate your small group of three, and before you know it, it feels as though there have always been five of you. Together, you welcome spring.

In January, to thank you for helping him to pick out his mom’s birthday present, Jongseong treats you to some tteokbokki, which you said you’d been craving all week. He orders the spiciest one, then has to take a sip of water between every bite. You laugh at his teary eyes and red face while you devour the bright red rice cakes easily. 

In February, he makes a show of giving you and Kazuha and Heeseung and Sunoo some homemade chocolates, saying it’s a friend thing. You find out that evening that the others each have five in their box—there are twenty in yours. It’s one of the things that makes you second guess what sort of feelings he has for you. For years, you’ve been convinced he harbored strong feelings of disdain for you; now, he seems to enjoy your friendship. You’re scared to read too much into anything, because if Jongseong is well-liked throughout school, it’s for a reason: he’s nice. To everyone. Even to you, too, nowadays. But if nice is giving five chocolates, what is giving twenty?

A sudden realization hits you in March—Jongseong appears at your door, drenched from the rain, a bag of your favorite snacks in hand. “You weren’t at school today. I had to find out you were sick from Kazuha,” he says as if she was a random classmate of yours and not your best friend, as if he should be the first to know about these kinds of things. Your mom rushes him in, finds him so charming in the five minutes they converse that she decides he should stay over for dinner, and as you watch him laughing with her, you think, I haven’t thought of 28-year-old Jongseong in ages. I’ve only thought of you. And although you can trace the start of your feelings to that dream-like experience you had, you can now say with confidence that it’s not the only reason for them.

College application results come out in April, right on his birthday. The five of you celebrate together at an American-style diner, gorging yourselves on crispy bacon and chocolate chip pancakes. Kazuha is going back to Japan, almost a decade after moving to South Korea—”I’m gonna miss you guys, but I miss takoyaki and my grandma more right now.” Heeseung has been accepted into the Engineering department at the country’s top university. You, Sunoo and Jongseong are all heading to the same place: you for Screenwriting, which you’ve known since you were one of the winners of the scholarship contest last October, Sunoo for Communications, whatever that is, and Jongseong for European History and Literature with a minor in German, that freak. It’s a good university, and it’s not far from home. The way Jongseong tells you about his acceptance sticks with you: he doesn’t say, They accepted me, too, or, I’m going to the same university as you. He says, We’ll be together.

May is filled with afternoons at the park when you should all be studying for exams. Your mom keeps asking when she’s going to see “that wonderful boy” again. Your friendship with Jongseong has given him new ways of teasing you—after four years of near-kleptomaniac tendencies, he’s finally stopped stealing your erasers and has instead started to let his gaze linger on your face, to call you pretty when you least expect it, to tuck your hair behind your ear. You hate it most when he asks you whether there’s something from your romance novels or movies that you want him to recreate. “Is there a field big enough nearby that I can walk through at the break of dawn, Mister Darcy-style?” he’ll say, or “I’ve always wanted to try that upside-down kiss from Spider-Man. It’s a classic, really.” 

Summer comes early in June. You need to bring a two-liter water bottle and a hand fan to your exams, and you’ve never felt such relief as when it was all over. After endless pictures with your parents and siblings, just your parents, just your siblings, then Kazuha and Sunoo, together, then separately, then with Heeseung and Jongseong as well, Kazuha forces you and Jongseong together, watching with a smile as he shyly wraps an arm around your waist and you awkwardly throw up a peace sign. It’s your first picture of just the two of you.

In July, you and Jongseong unlock a new first: saying goodbye. He’s leaving to stay with his American family as he does every summer. You show up at his house the day before at four p.m. “to help him pack,” you say, but it’s Jongseong, and he finished packing two days ago. So instead, you sit on his desk chair, he on his bed, and you fight back tears. “You’re coming back, right?” you ask, like he’s leaving to go to war and not Seattle. Amusement and affection flicker in his eyes. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t throw four more years of being a pain in your ass away, would I?” he says, and you smile, because you know it’s going to be much more than four years.

But he doesn’t just leave you with a few nice words. Avoiding your gaze, he hands you an envelope. Inside is a single ticket, a two-month membership for your city’s arthouse cinema that you can only go to when they have student deals or when your parents have had enough of your begging. You can’t even begin to imagine how much this must’ve cost. “Jong…” you murmur, in awe at the thin slip of paper between your hands. “This is incredible. Thank you so much.”

Jongseong looks down at his feet, fighting a smile as he kicks the invisible rocks that obviously litter the floor of his bedroom. “I thought you’d get bored without me around, so, that way you can entertain yourself, I guess… And if you run into any film bros next year, you’ll have seen as many pretentious movies as them.”

You burst into laughter then, and, without thinking, wrap your arms around his neck, thanking him over and over again. It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms around your waist and says it’s no big deal.

As you walk down the path from your house, he calls out your name. “Don’t be a stranger,” he says.

You smile. “Never.”

So, he’s not here for summer. Kazuha is working in her parents’ ramen restaurant to make some money before leaving, even Heeseung leaves two weeks into July for Seoul to visit some relatives there and get accustomed to life in the big city. You only get to laze around with Sunoo, but even he eventually leaves for his grandparents’ house by the sea, making you promise you’ll come visit him at some point, otherwise he’ll “die of boredom.” 

It’s August now, and your brain and body alike buzz with restlessness. You go to the cinema almost every day, making the best of your subscription. If you’re not going around your house looking for spider webs with your vacuum cleaner, you’re riding random bus lines and discovering parts of your town you’ve never set foot in before. If you’re not making your way through your never-ending pile of unread books, you’re creating your own stories, finally taking the time to properly outline and draft the one-line ideas you’ve had sitting in your Notes app, preparing yourself for the start of your degree. Your mind is taken up with love stories. From Romeo & Juliet to Dirty Dancing to Book Lovers, you can’t get enough of the genre. You become particularly obsessed with stories involving time travel, rewatching After Time and Lovely Runner like they contain some precious knowledge. By the end of the month, you’ve turned your life into an eight-episode TV series—a desperate girl makes a wish on a star only to discover she is fated to marry the one boy she hates most. You know you’d watch that. You send Sunoo and Kazuha the pilot, and after calling you insane numerous times but also heaping on praises, Sunoo says this: lol your going through jay withdrawals.

It shakes you so much you’re not even compelled to message back you’re*.

But he’s not wrong. The more you let yourself admit it, the more you realize how true it is: you miss Jongseong. You text once in a while, you’ve even stayed up late talking on the phone a couple of times, but you miss him, his corporeal form, having his gaze on you, having the possibility but never the courage to touch him. Every day, there’s something you want to tell him about. The cats huddling around a young neighborhood kid as he pours milk into a bowl, the clearance sale at your local library, most books for one buck only, the actor from an 90s Hong Kong film you swear has the exact same smile as him. You don’t want to bother him, so you write letters instead. Some you send, some you don’t—the ones you keep hidden in your drawer usually hint too obviously at your feelings for him. Some of them don’t just hint and contain lines of your declarations: I miss you, everything I see reminds me of you, I want to check that your bruises have healed completely even though the last trace of them faded months ago. You keep these letters a secret, even from Sunoo and Kazuha, who would never let you live down such woebegone, down bad behavior.

You do it because it feels good, getting all of your feelings out on paper. You’re a romantic at heart, so you’re prone to over-exaggeration when it comes to things like these—but everything that you write remains based in truth. You’d started with a postcard of your hometown, jokingly writing, Don’t forget where you came from. How is it over there? and he’d actually replied with a postcard of his own, filling it from top to bottom. You easily went from these small postcards to multiple pages of stream-of-consciousness-like writing. You think it’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done—although you’re not sure he feels the same way, considering he still writes to the German pen pal Ms. Schumacher had assigned him in your first year of high school. No one else’s correspondence had lasted more than four months because she’d immediately forgotten to make sure you kept in touch regularly.

I ran into Jake Sim at the city library, you write one day. You’ve replied to everything in his latest letter, so you’re now catching him up on your recent adventures. He was checking out some books about Linguistics, of all things—he bought me bubble tea afterwards and told me that the injury he got last April was actually a relief. Did you know his father was a big name in soccer here? Apparently, he never wanted to be a soccer player that badly, and he wants to do Linguistics and Social Anthropology, who would’ve guessed it. He’s like Troy Bolton if High School Musical was about Humanities and not singing. Anyways, you probably don’t want me to go on and on about him, so I won’t, but we did talk about that fight you guys had back in December. He apologized for it, to you and me both, although he didn’t go into much detail — Sunoo is still the only one who’s had the balls to tell me exactly what happened, and he wasn’t even there! — and I was reticent at first, but he seemed genuine. He said he didn’t even hang out with Sunghoon or Yunjin or any of those people anymore, that it was only out of convenience really, and that he hopes starting university will be like turning over a new leaf. Well, he could be full of shit, who knows. As I sat there listening to him I wondered what it was I used to see in him. He’s nice enough, but we only spoke about him for the entire hour. He asked me no questions that weren’t “and you?” so it was a bit exhausting. 

But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you.

You look at your words, smiling to yourself—this is one of the times where you find yourself erring from the topic at hand, instead indulging in sappiness and nostalgia. You write about how your opinion of Jongseong has changed over these months, how it wasn’t seeing him as your husband in all those years that had really shaken things up, but rather that day in the nurse’s station, the frightening colors around his eye, his attitude like it was natural that he would get hurt like this for you. You write, Have I been wrong about you this whole time? I thought you harbored the same negative feelings towards me as I had you since the moment you’d laid eyes on me, but all of a sudden, here you were, bloody, bandaged hand holding mine. Even with your busted eye, you looked like an angel next to all that white in the nurse’s station. I’ll never forget your words that day. Would you really not get hurt for anything else, Jong?

“I’m going to the Post Office for a package soon, Y/N. Are you done with your letter?” your mom calls from the staircase landing.

“Give me five minutes!” you call back.

You forage through your drawer for a new sheet of paper and re-write your letter, making sure to leave any compromising parts out and fold both letters into neat squares—one that will cross the seas and reach Jongseong, one that will live out its days in the darkness of your crowded drawer. You’ve run out of envelopes, so you go look for one in your parents’ office. Your mom calls out your name again, impatient to leave — if she sends her package off before twelve p.m., it will get to the receiver tomorrow, and she’s hell-bent on getting perfect five-star Vinted reviews — so you hurriedly put your letter in the envelope, close it, stamp it, and write Jongseong’s name and address on the back. The other letter you absent-mindedly throw in your drawer with the dozens of other letters in which you’d crossed the line.

--

A few weeks later, like an apparition, Jongseong stands before you again.

He’s tanner from months under the Washington sun, from afternoons spent at his family’s lake house, on their boat. His hair is slightly shorter and suits him even better; you don’t recognize any of the clothes he wears. He grumbles as his mother goes back-and-forth between hugging him, staring at him worriedly and reminding him to call at least twice a week while his father unpacks the trunk. “I’ll only be a thirty-minute train ride away, Mom,” he says. 

He’s still Jong.

You moved in yesterday, and you’re now waiting for your new roommate, who, after five minutes of deliberating whether she should bring a jacket or not and finally decided against it, changed her mind the minute she stepped outside. 

It’s been two months since you last saw him. Shortly after sending your letter, you’d gone to stay with Sunoo’s grandparents for a week, just a day before he was set to come back from Seattle. Amid packing and other preparations, you haven’t had time to see each other. Is it okay if I respond to your letter in person? I think I’ll be too busy these two coming weeks, he texted you. You replied that it wasn’t a problem, you told him which dorm you’d been assigned and found out his was the one next door.

When he notices you staring, he does a double-take. You wave at him, and even from this distance, you see the blush that creeps up his neck and takes over his face as he shyly waves back. You’ve never seen him like this—he’s always been either arrogant or friendly, never… flustered. He makes a motion as if to say, I’ll text you, and heads inside the building with his parents and all of his luggage.  

Indeed, he texts you some hours later while you’re sharing a piece of strawberry and matcha cake with your roommate Liz, whom you find out is half-German—Jongseong and your dad would probably love her for that simple fact. Some of the first things she’d asked you were what your astrological signs were and whether you wanted her to pull tarot cards for you when she was all done setting up her side of the room. Between that and her dyed blonde hair, you’d felt comfortable telling her all about Jongseong, the well and your dream. Unlike your skeptical and sarcastic friends, she’d nodded along to your every word, a serious expression on her face. “A sign from the universe,” she’d called it, and she gasped in excitement when his name appeared on your screen.

He sends you a link to a freshers’ week event, some potted plant sale happening on the main campus square, and asks if you’re free to go with him tomorrow. I need something to liven up that depressing room, he writes.

So that’s how you find yourselves among green plants of all shapes and sizes, searching for one that’s both low-maintenance and appealing to the eye. You’re glad that you have something to actually do—if you were just sitting at a café and having a conversation, you’re not sure you’d be able to stand the awkwardness. You’d chalked up his behavior on the day of his move-in to nerves, or to surprise upon seeing you so unexpectedly. But apparently, it wasn’t a one-time thing. He keeps clearing his throat as if he were sick with some cold, won’t look into your eyes for more than split seconds at a time, and in complete opposition to his usual confident, deliberate speech, talks in a quick and disorderly manner. And he’s either really caught a cold, or his ears have just permanently turned red. You ask him if something’s wrong a couple times, but he violently shakes his head, says, “No, what could be wrong?” then looks at you as if you might tell him what’s wrong.

When you’re alone again, you wonder what on earth could have happened over the summer that could make him change his behavior with you so radically. Did something happen in Seattle? Maybe he met someone there and doesn’t know how to tell you. Maybe you went overboard with your letters, he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, he wants to let you down easy but doesn’t know how to tell you. Or maybe—maybe you got impossibly pretty during those two months, and absence does make the heart grow fonder, as they say, and every thought you have about him, he has about you, but he doesn’t know how to tell you.

In any case, he’s hiding something.

The theory that he might want to stop being friends soon falls flat—the invitations to other freshers’ events keep coming, be it free wine & pizza taster sessions from the Wine Society, karaoke nights with the Taylor Swift Society or a shark movie marathon with the Bad Film Society, and he never turns you down when you tell him there’s something you want to visit in this new city of yours, even when the thing you want to visit in question is a bakery you have to queue in front of at seven a.m. if you want to get a pain au chocolat. In your defense, they turn out to be the best ones you and Jongseong have ever tried—although, to be fair, neither of you has been to France.

Things progressively return to normal. He’s able to make eye contact for more than three seconds again, he listens carefully and laughs along when you tell him about your week by the sea with Sunoo, he fills you in on what Heeseung’s been up to. One thing remains different, however—when you throw quips at him, he usually would’ve delighted in coming up with a better, wittier response, but now, he’ll roll his eyes at best, look at you amusedly and stay silent at worst. “Won’t you even entertain me?” you ask him once, to which he replies that you’re doing a good job entertaining yourself as is. 

Instead, he becomes more earnest. As per usual you badger him with questions like Aren’t I so pretty right now? or Isn’t my outfit so cute today? to get a reaction out of him, and if during your high school days he’d either fake a puking sound or look you up and down and grumble I guess, he now smiles and simply says Yes, you are, Yes, it is. It seems impossible to keep track of his attitude: one day, he’s one thing, the next, he’s another person entirely. 

It annoys you. You take his changing demeanor to mean that now that he’s a college student, he won’t indulge in your childish squabbles anymore, as though he was above all of that now, when just three months ago he was stalking your parents’ Facebooks to find unfavorable photos of you from when you were thirteen and using them as reaction pictures in your friends’ group chat. You think of your graduation day, of the box he’d given you, all done up in wrapper paper and a bow—he had filled it with every eraser he’d stolen from you over the years, he’d even gone so far as to date every single one of them, from the second of October freshman year to the twenty-eighth of November of your senior year. You didn’t count them, but there had to be at least a hundred. At the time, you’d just thought it was funny—but what if the gesture had meant something deeper than you’d realized? What if he was marking the end of something with that box? No more playing around, we’re adults now. But classes have barely started, you don’t know your way to the off-campus library, you aren’t a different person to who you were just weeks or even months earlier. Why is he acting like he is? You look at him, and you see the boy whose fault it was you had to buy a new eraser every week—who knows how many books you could’ve bought with that money. But when he turns to look at you, too, and your eyes meet, you’re suddenly assailed with the memories of that night, the kind eyes, the soft smile. 

Does his future capacity to love me already exist in his heart?

Your heartbeat speeds up and you have to look away.

--

From your letters, it seems to be much hotter back home than in Seattle—you talk of sunburns, of afternoons spent inside with the fan on maximum speed, of ice melting instantly and watering down your Coke Zeros, whereas Jay can walk around the city pleasantly and needs to bring a jacket if he’ll be out until late after sundown. And yet, as he reads your latest letter, his skin prickles feverishly, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He’d excitedly torn the envelope open the second it arrived in the mail, heart thumping as he counted the pages, at least three more than usual — he was always happy that you wanted to talk to him at all, so the fact that you had this much to tell him sent him over the moon — but he would have never expected what was awaiting him inside.

With a smile on his face, he read your replies to the questions he’d asked you last time, your reactions to everything he told you about, the live Mariners game, the lake house, the rides on the boat. He imagined you as you sat at your desk in your room he’d only seen once, when you’d held a small party for your birthday and he, having arrived first, was honored with a tour of your house. He imagined your smile, the way you played with your hair when you focused on something, wondered whether you pondered every word before you wrote it down as he did or whether you poured your thoughts out onto the page without hesitation. His smile faltered when Jake Sim’s name appeared in your neat handwriting, but he was relieved to find out your description of him now was miles away from the one at the start of the school year. 

Then you start writing about him. Him, Park Jongseong, and your words startle him so much, it’s like he’d forgotten he was the recipient of this letter in the first place.

But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you. 

He’s been lying comfortably in his bed, but he sits up the moment his eyes take in these words. If there is one topic the two of you have practically never broached, it’s this exactly: your relationship, the changes it’s gone through this past year. Except for a few mentions made in jest here and there, you’ve always conveniently ignored the fact that not so long ago, you were at each other’s throats. At least, you were at his throat, and Jay let you be, let you think the hatred went both ways, when in reality all he wanted was to keep you close one way or another. To him, anything was better than indifference.

But here you are, writing about how you feel about him, not in hints, not in jokes, but actually telling him black and white what goes through your head when you think of him—in other words, everything he’s been dying to know ever since he met you and especially ever since you started warming up to him a few months ago.

I have never told you about that night because I know it’ll just be more fodder for you to endlessly tease me, and I haven’t even mentioned it in these letters that I write and don’t send. Sometimes I debate the ethics of it—if I know something about our futures, isn’t it right that you know, too? But then again, I still hesitate whether what happened was real or not. As with anything, the more time passes, the more I forget about it. What kind of cheese you’d put on the pasta, the movie that played in the background, whether the stairs were carpeted or wooded—these details have evaded me by now. All I clearly remember is your face and how I felt, seeing it then, seeing it the next day at school, ten years younger, the same exact person in what felt like a different universe. As much as I tried to deny it, I know now that it was no coincidence—I was talking about it with Sunoo and he said that sometimes, we want something so badly, we conjure it up for ourselves. He’s not always a dimwit. And he’s right, the kind of love I felt from you in that dream — or not-dream — I’ve yearned for it ever since I first watched Pride & Prejudice, the 2005 film to be precise, when I was ten. But with you? That was what I couldn’t believe at first. I don’t think I need to explain why—you were there, I think you knew how I felt about you for over three years, it’s not like I tried to hide it.

Then you turned up and the sight of you was enough to bring back all the feelings from that dream. You must’ve wondered why my behavior with you switched so suddenly—well, a glimpse into marital bliss is sometimes enough for a girl to make some changes in her life. Yet I valiantly tried to convince myself that any flutter of my heart around you was due to this stupid dream, to a version of you my brain had conjured up because it was starved for affection, and you happened to be at the forefront of my mind, even if not for the right reasons. But it was no use. I had entertained the possibility that this future was really mine, and I couldn’t go back to seeing you as the boy who annoyed the living daylights out of me.

But Jong, if you weren’t you, I would’ve been confused for a week and then I would’ve gotten over it. I stayed confused for a while, and everything you did only served to confuse me further. I started to notice you more, to see you for who you were and not for the idea I had constructed of you in my head, I stopped taking note of only the things that reinforced this idea. And that changed everything.

Let’s get it out of the way: as much as I hate to admit it because it proves you right, I saw that you are indeed devastatingly handsome. It devastates me every time I have to look at that stupid, wonderful face of yours. And if aging is something you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ve seen you at 28, and let’s just say that your jaw somehow only gets more chiseled. I’ve realized that you don’t just participate in class to be a prick — except for when you contradict me in Literature, I know you only do that to piss me off, and yes, it works — but that you actually care about what we learn and that you don’t want the teacher to feel like they’re talking to a classroom full of students made out of bricks. I’ve also realized that you didn’t specifically pick German to be the one subject where you must beat me at all costs, you just actually really like German, even if I’m still undetermined as to why. And I can finally admit to myself—you are funny. Sometimes. There were so many times I had to stop myself from laughing at one of your idiotic puns because I could not bear to give you the satisfaction. That feeling when the worst person you know makes a funny joke, and all that. And as much as I’ve mocked you for it, I do actually like your laugh. I like that you’re only loud when you laugh, or sneeze, or get excited over something. You don’t scream, you don’t get angry, and I think that’s a lot for a boy fresh out of puberty. Or for any boy, really. 

But above all, you’re kind, Jong. I think it’s the best thing about you. I think it’s the best thing anyone can be. I see it in your patience with Heeseung when he starts one of his rants better reserved for Reddit than real life, I see it in the way you took Sunoo and Kazuha in stride, even though they’re a bit rough around the edges sometimes, I see it in the way you guide the freshmen at the start of every year, when all anyone does is complain about them, I see it in the gentleness with which you let down the girls who confess to you, even the more persistent ones. I used to think they were crazy, but I understand them more than ever now. I also used to think that all those kindnesses meant that the ones you occasionally showed me meant nothing more than that—occasional kindnesses. You were just a nice guy, occasionally so to me. But you sort of ratted yourself out when you gave me those twenty chocolates for Valentine’s.

Or, really, what made things clearer was that fight in December. I guess I was wrong—you do get angry. I remember a thought I had at the time: just when I think I know you, you do something to shake it all up. You punched two of the star soccer players of our school in the face because they said some mean, unimportant things about me. Thinking about it now, I still don’t understand it. Was it another one of your acts of kindness? 

And then I thought of those other times you helped me out. Do you remember them—the art project, the handwritten notes after my grandma passed away, you tearing Park Sunghoon a new one in the girls’ bathroom. I’m sure there are many more that I’ve dismissed simply because I did not want to see you in any other light than the one I’d decided to shine on you. 

Maybe I’m rewriting the past here, but I’ve been thinking about something lately. The theme today seems to be honesty, so I’ll lay myself bare and tell you something I haven’t told anyone yet, not even myself. The more I write, the more I become aware of its truth. I like you, Jong. I think I have for a long time, longer than either of us thinks. Maybe that’s why I kept buying erasers.

I don’t have the best memory — I suspect iron deficiency, it runs in my mom’s side of the family — but I do remember this. The first time I saw you. I haven’t noticed your face changing in real time, but I’m sure I’d laugh at how much of a baby you looked back then. Although I didn’t fare much better, I’m sure. Well, you’re the one that has all these embarrassing pictures of me, you freak, so I’m sure you could tell me. Moving on… 

I found you really cute. You were chatting to the person next to you, maybe it was Heeseung, I didn’t look properly—I only looked at you. Don’t laugh at me. It was the first day of high school, there was a nervous energy in the air, but you seemed happy to be there. You know I don’t have hordes of friends like you do, I don’t walk through life with people naturally gravitating towards me. I’m okay with it now, but it was something I struggled with back then. Kazuha, Sunoo and I have had each other since our elementary days, and I never needed more than that—but fifteen is the prime age for comparison, and as the weeks passed and we got used to being high schoolers, I listened to everyone sing your praises, I watched as you talked with all of our classmates, even our teachers, like you were old friends. But we sat next to each other in a couple of classes, and you wouldn't talk to me outside of partnered work. I, who wanted to be easily charmed by you like everyone else was, who thought maybe you’d help me come out of my shell. But it felt like sitting next to me was torture to you, like the boy whom I watched speak with ease to everyone else disappeared when I was around. And so — and I’m not proud of this — every smart remark in class, every joke that had the entire class roaring, every high five you gave out in the hallway, I started to despise them. And by association, I started to despise you. After that, it was easy to find fault in everything you did, my contempt was only enhanced by everyone’s admiration. But I’m not alone here. It went both ways, didn’t it? I don’t think you liked that I didn’t like you and openly showed it, so used to being everyone’s favorite person you were. I remember how you showily tried to be nice to me after that, maybe you just wanted another friend, but I didn’t let you. I don’t blame us for how we acted, only for taking so long to get our heads out of our asses.

(I have to say, I also have a thing for hating people. Remind me to tell you about Na Jaemin and Shin Ryujin one of these days.)

Anyways, I think it’s because I had liked you so much at first that I could then seemingly hate you so much. But I never hated you, Jong, not really. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. Can I take it all back now? 

Now that we’re entering university soon, I can’t help but look back on high school. This is what I want to know, but I’m not sure I’ll ever have the courage to ask you, because if your answer is the one I suspect, I don’t know how I’ll handle all the regret in my heart.

Have I been wrong about you this whole time? I thought you harbored the same negative feelings towards me as I had you since the moment you’d laid eyes on me, but all of a sudden, here you were, bloody, bandaged hand holding mine. Even with your busted eye, you looked like an angel next to all that white in the nurse’s station. I’ll never forget your words that day. Would you really not get hurt for anything else, Jong?

Your letter abruptly ends here, no concluding remarks, no wishing him a fun time in Seattle and looking forward to his next letter, no sign-off. It was as if someone cut you off before you could say everything you wanted, but then why send him this seemingly unfinished letter? It is all the more bizarre since your letters are usually meticulous: you write on every other line, it looks like you take your time with every single letter, the only disturbance in your otherwise perfect handwriting is your going back-and-forth between cursive and script s’s. But this particular letter looks rushed, your lines are sloppy, some words need to be read a few times over to be understood. What kind of state had you been in, writing these words? Jay’s heart swells, thinking that you were as moved writing as he was reading. He even looks through your letter again, wishing to find a tear stain somewhere, but there are none. Maybe he’s been watching too many of these romantic period dramas you always go on about.

He has to pace his room when he’s done reading your letter, but he feels trapped inside these four walls, so he dashes outside, saying that he’s getting some air when his relatives ask him where he’s off to in such a rush, and walks around the block five times. When he’s back in his room, he rereads your letter, eyes taking in each and every word slowly and carefully, making sure he doesn’t misread anything.

You like him. You, Y/N, like him, Jongseong, it’s a fact, it’s real, you said so yourself, you went into quite some detail about it, he can’t believe it, but it’s real, it’s written right there on the page, if anyone dares tell him he’s fooling himself, he can prove them wrong, you’re the one who said it.

The smile doesn’t leave his lips for the rest of the day, he can barely eat, he’s already full of happiness. He reads your words over and over before falling asleep, committing them to memory, dreaming about them, about you.

You. How should he respond to this? Are you even expecting a response? You seem to know he’s not impartial to you, either, although that’s an understatement. 

In the following days, the thought that you hadn’t meant to send him this letter nags at him. The abrupt ending, the absence of your usual Love, Y/N. The fact that this had come out of left field—none of your previous letters had even a romantic undertone, no matter how he tried in his own to hint at his missing you, the most reference to seeing each other again you would give him was It’ll be better to show you this in real life. The act of sending letters itself didn’t feel very platonic, but you never went there, so he didn’t, either. He had secretly yearned to have you this close all these years, he would never forgive himself if he ended up chasing you away now with his over-eagerness.

You had landed on something very real in your letter: I don’t think you liked that I didn’t like you and openly showed it, so used to being everyone’s favorite person you were. I remember how you showily tried to be nice to me after that, maybe you just wanted another friend, but I didn’t let you. He cursed his fifteen-year-old self, that idiot who couldn’t even speak to a girl no matter how much he wanted to, just because she was so pretty, he was afraid of saying something stupid and messing it up before it even had a chance to start.

On days when you’d had particularly nasty or petty arguments — it could get pretty bad, at the start, before you both started maturing and realized how ridiculous you were, especially with your classmates telling you to keep it classy — he’d stay up all night, wondering why you hated him so much in the first place, what on Earth he could’ve done to warrant such vitriol. Now, finally, he knew, and he could only resent the fact that no one had invented time machines yet, so he could nip his useless ego in the bud; so he could tell younger Jay not to take it personally, that you had your reasons for disliking him, that even if you hadn’t, the world won’t end if someone doesn’t like him like everyone usually does. 

Because, he hates to admit, that was what had done it for Jay. He couldn’t stand that someone — not just someone, but one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen, a girl he’d been hyping himself up to talk to every day, but never found the courage to — didn’t immediately fall for his charms. And not just that, but even showed just how much she disliked him. You looked him up-and-down with disdain, made disgusted faces at his jokes, rolled your eyes when he spoke up in class. It made him burn with anger, but he also weirdly enjoyed it—at least, you were paying attention to him. So, he amped it up. Talked louder, laughed louder, hovered around you. He even stole your erasers, wrote the date on which he’d taken them, kept them in a box on his desk that he looked at every time he studied at home. He aimed to beat you in every class you shared, even though neither of you cared that much about grades—the annoyed look on your face when he boasted about the two points he’d gotten over you was enough satisfaction.

All in all, he behaved like a child, and you reciprocated in like.

Until you didn’t.

It was a random Tuesday when something in your attitude towards him shifted. It wasn’t a complete 180, but he noticed everything about you, so even a slight change of your tone was obvious to him. You started using your nickname for him more often than his full name—he never told you, but of course he loved that you didn’t call him Jay like everyone else, that you had your own way of addressing him. It was a sign to him that the two of you had something special, even if it was on the opposite end of the spectrum of what he wanted with you.

He again spent sleepless nights wondering what had caused this change: was it something he had done, or something within you? It was a welcome change, that much was sure, but he was initially too confused to take it in stride. He’d long made peace with the fact that he’d never have you the way he really wanted, so he was fine with whatever this was—but now, you were changing, your interactions were tinged with something like shyness, the distance between you felt greater than ever. He tried to keep up his smart-ass appearances around you, but you only indulged in your old habits once in a while, as though you had grown tired of arguing with him, even of giving him the time of day.

So he resolved himself to adapting his behavior to yours. If you stared at him intently like his face was a puzzle you were trying to solve, he let you, rested his head on his palm and smiled as he stared back at you. Finally, he had an excuse to look at you without you threatening to punch him or saying a picture would last longer. He knew they did, he’d had to resort to scrolling through Sunoo’s and Kazuha’s Instagrams to find any photos of you. Yours was private and at the time, you would’ve probably cursed him out if he’d sent a follow request. If you seemed too annoyed or upset over something, he’d leave you alone, he’d do something nice to let you know you didn’t need to have your guards up at all times around him. If you seemed to silently call for a truce of hostilities, he easily complied.

Then, after a few weeks, your petty arguments resumed, but those too were different—if before they felt filled with real disdain and irritation, they now seemed to be a comfortable habit to fall back on, almost like a fun hobby. Those, too, Jay readily welcomed.

And so things changed in a direction Jay had never thought would one day be possible. You gave him no explanations, nor did he ask for any, and soon he stopped losing sleep over the why’s and the how’s and simply let himself enjoy the fact that you now had the semblance of a friendship, that he could compliment you and pass it off as amical teasing, that he could learn things about you like what you spent your weekends doing, what your relationship with your family was like, whether you were a dog or cat person, whether you wanted to visit his farm in Stardew Valley. 

Unsurprisingly, this only enhanced his already pathetically strong feelings for you. He worried over how to make sure this wasn’t some sort of 30-day friendship trial you had wanted to test out. He reveled in the fact that his top university of choice was the one you had already been accepted to. He now knew what it felt like to have you smile at him, smile because of him, and he never wanted again to live in a world where this was not a daily occurrence. 

He now sort of has an answer—your letter doesn’t make it very clear, it makes him think again that you really had not meant to send it, but you seem to have had a dream. A dream of him, 28-year-old him, to be precise, of your life together—he’s not sure. At this point in time, he doesn’t care much, either. Whether it was a dream or a real vision of the future that you had, all that matters is that it allowed you to see him in a new light, a light which he had hoped for years would one day appear to you, and it had changed things. And now, you liked him.

You said so yourself.

He’s at a loss for words. He can’t concentrate for long enough to put all his thoughts in order, he can’t make himself calm down and write his feelings down. He has to pack to go home, once he’s home, he’ll have to pack for university. But it’s only two weeks from now to the day you meet again, and it’ll be better to say what he wants to say in person, anyway.

Is it okay if I respond to your letter in person? I think I’ll be too busy these two coming weeks, he texts you.

And then those two weeks pass like two seconds and you’re there, a few meters away from him. All the speeches he’d prepared in his head, from grand declarations of love to laid-back admittances of Yeah, I like you too, you’re cool, I guess, they all vanish from his head. For fourteen days he’s been going through scenarios upon scenarios of your reunion, what you’d look like, what he’d say, how you’d react. But now that he can actually see you, now that he would just have to walk a few steps if he wanted to touch you, hug you, kiss you — hoping that was something you wanted to do — he freezes. He forgets how his body works, the part in his brain that’s meant to manage language ability fails him. HIs mom calls him over, urging him into his new dorm building, and all he can do is wave back at you like an idiot.

When finally he musters the courage to text you, what he hopes will be the day that starts your romantic relationship turns into the day Park Jongseong realizes how much of a loser he is. For the first hour, he can’t look at you, he can’t get through a sentence without stuttering out half of his words, he runs out of things to say in record time. All he can think of is how easy it’d be to grab one of your hands, hold it in his and walk around this stupid potted plant sale as if the two of you were two halves of a whole. He doesn’t even want a potted plant, his roommate already has five, he just wanted an excuse to see you. He steals glances at you when you’re looking elsewhere, and he notices everything about you tenfold now that he can, now that caring about you doesn’t need to be in vain any longer. He tells himself that he just needs to calm down a bit, even when you have the confirmation that the person you’re about to confess to already likes you, revealing your feelings to someone is always nerve-wracking, the two of you haven’t seen in each other in a while, he’ll talk to you once his heart gets out of his throat.

But you’re acting normal. Suspiciously so. You’re acting like you never told him you liked him, like nothing has changed between you. He rereads your letter the second he gets back to his dorm. He’s not crazy, it’s written right there, I like you, Jong. I think I have for a long time, longer than either of us thinks. He knows the words by heart now, but he checks them anyway. So why are you acting like you never said anything? Had you really not meant to send that letter? Did Jay actually intrude on your private thoughts by reading words that had never meant to be seen by another soul?

You continue to behave as you usually would around him, but if he couldn’t go back to vicious bickering when things changed the first time, he can’t go back to friendly bickering now that things — for him — have changed a second time. He doesn’t even want friendly to be in your shared vocabulary anymore. 

So he stops giving in. If you make fun of him, he just stands there with an unimpressed if amused look on his face. If you pedantically correct him on something, he just nods his head and accepts it. He can tell you’re bothered by it, but he needs to show you that he doesn’t want to go on being just friends with you—he wants to compliment you without having to pass it off as teasing, he wants to stare at you with hearts in his eyes without having to look away when you catch him, he wants to spend every waking second of every day with you, he wants to hold your hand, hold you. 

He could wait for things to change slowly again, but why wait when he could help things along?

--

It’s nine p.m. on a Saturday and you’re sneaking Jongseong into your dorm. Liz is away for the weekend, gone back home to celebrate her aunt’s birthday, so you have the room to yourselves. It took some convincing to get him to come — What if we get caught coming in, What if your T.A. sees us, What if I get reported to campus police — and so when your verbal reassurances failed to work, you resorted to blinking up at him through your lashes and that did the trick.

Jongseong was in many ways unlike any other man you’d ever met; in some other ways, he was the exact same.

Plastic bag of the tteokbokki you’d asked for in hand, he looks around the deserted hallways like someone might jump out of nowhere and beat him to a pulp at any given moment. At this time of the week, everyone’s out partying or holed up in their dorms, presumably either to rest or because of a lack of friends so early on in the semester. You grab his free hand and hurry him along to the elevator—once inside, it takes you a few seconds before you realize you’re still holding it, and you retract your hand quickly while he just smiles. 

You settle yourselves on the floor—comfort is not worth getting gochujang sauce on your white sheets. You sit criss-cross in front of each other, the food between the two of you, and catch up on your first week of class in-between bites of spicy, gooey rice cakes and fish cakes. You wonder, if one day you and Jongseong are no longer friends, how long you will keep associating tteokbokki with him.

When you tell him that you and Jake share a class, Introduction to Film Studies, he gives you a look. “What’s that face for?” you ask.

“Did you guys sit next to each other?”

You chuckle. “Of course. We only knew each other in that room, it would’ve been weird not to.”

He continues to stare at you. After a while, he muses, “You’re not…?”

You halt in your tracks, rice cake at the end of your plastic fork hanging in the air, halfway between the container and your mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.” Still in love with him, interested in him again, you don’t know the exact details of Jongseong’s thought process, all you know is he has nothing to worry about—if it’s something he worries about.

When a smile slowly grows on his lips and he nods, saying, “Okay, good,” you let yourself think it might be.

Later, you’re ten minutes into a senseless blockbuster movie when he suddenly pauses it. It snaps you out of a trance—his hand was awfully close to yours, so is his shoulder, his thigh, his knee, everything, really, and you haven’t been able to concentrate on anything but the warmth radiating off his skin and the intensity with which you crave to feel it intentionally rather than accidentally. When he speaks, there’s something serious in his tone that makes you nervous. “Y/N,” he says as he turns to you, and now his face is awfully close, too. There’s still many centimeters separating you, but in this tiny, barely lit-up room, he feels closer than ever before. “Do you remember when I said I’d reply to your letter in real life?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah, that was ages ago.”

“Well, I thought I’d do it now.”

“Now?”

He takes a deep, shaky breath. “Now.”

And then those safe centimeters suddenly disappear, and Jongseong’s lips are on yours. It’s a brief, chaste kiss, so quick you wonder if it even happened when he leans back again.

“I like you, too,” he says, and your heart stops.

“W-what?” is all you can say back, eyes wide like he’s just admitted to killing someone rather than reciprocating your feelings.

His confident facade quickly crumbles. “God, this was so much cooler in my head, I-I’m sorry.” He pulls something out of his sweatpants pocket, pages folded over and over into a tiny square. As he unfolds them, you recognize your paper, your handwriting—but what do your letters have anything to do with him kissing you, of all things? “I don’t think you meant to send this. But I’m glad you did.”

He hands you the pages and your eyes skim over the words, not detecting anything out of the ordinary, until—But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you. You remember this line, because you had made sure to strike it and everything that came afterward out when you rewrote the letter that you would actually send Jongseong. So how was he giving you this? 

“I-How do you have this?” you ask, voice trembling. You feel as though your heart overflows with all kinds of emotions, and so your eyes follow, tears staining your lower lashes. 

But Jongseong is not one to let you hide things from him. “Hey, no, it’s okay,” he says, warm hands coming to cup your face. “Look at me.” You have no choice but to oblige—his gaze is somehow both soft and stern, a mix of concern and determination. “Did you mean what you wrote in here?” You nod. “Then everything’s okay. You don’t know how happy I was reading this.”

The tension in your body slowly starts to fade. “Really?”

“Really. I cherish every single word in there.”

“Really?” you repeat, and he chuckles.

“Really.”

Your heartbeat speeds up as you gaze into his eyes, as you let yourself bask in the affection and endearment you find there. You can’t quite comprehend what’s happening. The letter, the kiss, his confession, your inadvertent confession, it’s all a mess in your head; so sudden, but such a long time coming at the same time. You never imagined that things would change so quickly—less than a year ago, you thought Jongseong was the most irritating person on this planet. After meeting his 28-year-old self, you thought it’d take ages for the two of you to be on such good terms. But now, just a week into your first semester of university, belly full of tteokbokki and Sprite, you like each other enough not only to be in the same room without hurling insults at each other but to actually be smiling at each other, willingly at that.

Your eyes drift down to his lips, just like in the hallway all those months ago, and the words slip out before you can stop them. They’re a mere whisper—”Kiss me again.”

Jongseong doesn’t need to be told twice. Still cupping your face, he bridges the gap between the two of you again, and this time, when your lips meet, they don’t come apart so quickly. It’s your first kiss, and it’s nothing short of magical, better than any romance novel could’ve prepared you for. His lips are warm and soft against yours, moving slowly, gingerly; as if he’s scared to take any wrong step, he lets you control the pace, follows every tilt of your head this way and that. It’s a relief that he seems to know as little about this as you do—his hands haven’t moved from your face, yours are on his knees, all you can do is focus on the movement of your lips, to think of anything else at the same time would be overwhelming. 

“I’ve liked you from the start,” he suddenly says, face still so close you can feel his breath on your lips as he speaks. 

“Hm?” you hum, body reeling from the kiss.

“I’ve liked you from the start,” he repeats, grinning—he looks relieved, like he’s been waiting to say these words for a long time. “I can’t believe this is happening after all these years. Or at all, really.”

“I think I did, too.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that in your letter.”

Your eyes widen and you bury your face in your hands as Jongseong laughs. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” you mumble.

He smooths over your hair with one hand, brings your face back up with the other. “Don’t worry. I won’t ever make you regret this.”

Your brain and heart are too all over the place for you to come up with a coherent answer, so you lean in and reconnect your lips to his. It’s already becoming your favorite sensation, feeling him smile into the kiss, threading your fingers in his soft hair.

Time passes delicately like this, the two of you on your single bed, in the sheets that you bought three weeks ago. A lot of it is spent kissing and learning how to fall into each other’s rhythm, but you also spend hours talking, comparing situations and how you’d experienced them. You thought his occasional acts of kindness were done out of guilt, evidence that he did have some morals; he was trying to show he cared about you. He thought you’d despised him from the moment you saw him; you reiterate in more detail than your letter what really happened, you say you wish you knew then what you know now. 

“But I never hated you, Jong. I think I wanted to believe that I did, but I never actually did.”

“You glared at me everytime I walked past like I killed a member of your family.”

You groan, ashamed of yourself. “I did, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he says, chuckling, placing a kiss on your forehead. His arms are around you, your head rests atop his heart—you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life. “But it’s okay. We’re here now, and I don’t want us to have any regrets about high school. We had a good time, didn’t we?”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “I’m sure you did, stealing all my erasers.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. Clearly, he’s very proud of his feat. “Hey, I gave all of them back.”

“And what am I going to do with a hundred erasers, Jong?” you ask, laughing too, pecking his cheek aggressively—your way of punishing him for a grave deed.

“Keep them as a token of my love for you,” he says, and your breath falters at the mention of that word. “In fifty years, it’ll be a sign that I’ve liked you since the beginning, I just had a funny way of showing it.”

“Fifty years, huh?”

He grins. “Fifty, a hundred, whatever. You’re not getting rid of me.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

You’re both smiling so wide, you can barely manage a kiss. He trails kisses from your lips to your ear. Holding you close, he whispers, “It’s always been you, Y/N. Always and only you.”

There may be thorns on the otherwise immaculate rose that is your life, but Park Jongseong was never one of them—all along, he was a bud waiting to bloom.

--

The more time passes, the more you wonder whether that night you had seen in your vision will ever come. There’s been evenings similar to it—crashing the minute you came home from a long day on set, telling yourself you’d take a fifteen-minute power nap only to wake up three hours later and coming downstairs to find your husband cooking dinner, cleaning the kitchen, taking care of your son or simply watching TV, but waiting for you, always waiting for you. He seems as happy now watching you come down the stairs as he was then finding your face among all the students flocking out of lecture halls. 

The details are blurry now, but many small things seem to be different from what you’d seen. He still tries to recreate your favorite meal, but it’s not pasta all'arrabbiata, it’s laksa, because your first date as an official couple was to a Malaysian restaurant, not an Italian one. He’s still the best father you know, but you have one son, not twin girls—although that offer to “give him a younger sibling to play with” is always on the table. Even the house you live in is different from the one in your dream, which has now become nothing more than a funny anecdote you share with people when they ask you the story of how you and Jongseong met.

You think of Sunoo’s words from all those years ago: Sometimes, we want something so badly, we conjure it up for ourselves. Had 18-year-old you been in such denial over her feelings for Jongseong that she’d had to convince herself a magical well had bestowed a crazy dream upon her to admit that, yes, there was something there, something other than childish hatred?

It doesn’t matter anymore. Months pass without you thinking about that well, anyway. 

Tonight, you come home late from work after having had to do last-minute changes to the script for your current project, a movie that starts shooting in a few days. Jongseong texted you that he was going to bed an hour or so again, so you’re greeted by a plate of japchae covered in film paper. The post-it note stuck to it reads, I’m afraid of the repercussions of too much curry consumption on our son, so no laksa tonight my love. Hope you like it. Come to bed quick. You were starving a second ago, but you decide food can wait—other things can’t.

You tiptoe up the stairs and into your son’s room, breathing in the scent of his hair and placing a kiss there. His hair is still worryingly sparse, but if he’s anything like his dad, it’ll come in a bit later than the other kids. You always thought babies with a full head of hair were freaky, anyway. He doesn’t budge a bit, sleeping like a log—his dad is another story, shuffling in bed the moment you step into your shared bedroom. He opens his arms wide, a silent invitation.

“You’re home,” he says as you attach yourself to his body, your leg hiked up over his, your face buried in the crook of his neck, your thumb caressing the start of stubble on his cheeks.

You smile. “I am.”

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[ssahotchnerr]

I hope you meant it to be dropped here 🥺

So, about jealous Y/n: I had been thinking about this after seeing the episode where Beth (that runner-woman?) appears. I thought about the scene, with "y/n" either getting to know he was handed a paper with a number

Or maybe Aaron and "y/n" had been running together and Beth approaches without any care and reader just is like: 🤨 watching the interaction, lol

knowing you

🤭 cw; JEALOUS fem bau!reader, teasing banter (hehe r and aaron are sooo in love), suggestion/sex allusions (i'm blushing), based off of aaron and beth's first interaction in 7x10 wc; 1.3k

"Okay, okay." You panted, coming to a stop. You directed your voice forward, loud enough for Aaron to hear you, a few feet ahead. You resumed walking, slowly, hands on your hips. "Let's take a breather, yeah?"

"What's wrong?" Aaron asked as he met you halfway, a teasing smirk growing on his face. "Can't keep up?"

"I can keep up jus' fine." You insisted, still catching your breath. The afternoon breeze blew into your face, cooling the sheer layer of sweat that had collected. "Just... not for a prolonged amount of time. There's a," Another staggered breath, "difference."

"Is there?" He asked humorously. His chest rose up and down, regulating his own breathing as well. "I can easily go another mile or two.

"Fantastic. I'm so happy for you." You quipped sarcastically, causing him to laugh and a smile of your own pulling at your lips. "And that's why you're the one participating in the triathlon. Not me."

"You know..." He began proposing in a light tone of voice, eyebrows raised wittingly. "There's still time for you to sign up."

"You know, you're funny." You bantered back, a pained expression pulling onto your face at the mere thought. You shook your head, "I think my time is better spent cheering you on from the sidelines, along with the others. And then reviving you afterwards."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckled, a fondness in his eyes. All banter aside, he switched tactics, softening to a sweet sincereness. "I appreciate you accompanying me. Seriously. You know you don't have to run with me, although you do inspire me to persistent. Gotta impress you, keep you interested."

"Please, as if there's anything you could do to cause me to become uninterested." You poked a finger at his chest. "And if running means I get to spend an extra hour with you, I'll gladly accept. Besides, there's something in it for me too. Makes it all worth it."

"And what's that?"

You looked around, spotting a park vendor supplying drinks, playfully brushing his question aside. "Want a water?"

The warm glint in his eyes lingered, admirably amused. One that read: you were the most difficult person he'd ever met, but he wouldn't have it any other way. "Sure, sweetheart."

"I'll grab it," you began walking, "You stay here. Catch your breath."

Aaron grabbed your hand the moment you had stepped a foot away, smoothly drawing you back with just an equally suave grin. Once in reach, he placed his lips onto yours, interrupting your growing smile.

Your nose scrunched when the two of you parted, "You're all sweaty."

"That's never been a problem before." His smirk returned, the wet cowlicks draped over his forehead bringing a multitude of images to come to mind.

This is why you ran with him. You'd never deprive yourself the hot visual, one you'd never get tired of. The overexertion, the sweat, the defined athletic wear clinging onto his body, the heavy breathing too.

You playfully rolled your eyes, granting him another kiss before you trailed off. You steadied your breathing again, in attempt to slow your heart rate a second time.

Retrieving the waters couldn't have taken you more than five minutes: waiting in a small line, supplying cash, issuing a thank you. But when you turned back towards Aaron, your feet already moving to their own accord, you stopped short - suddenly. As he wasn't alone.

He was talking to some woman - brunette, in workout clothes of her own. Her backside was facing you, so you couldn't see any specific features; to determine who she was, a familiar face or not.

You tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of jealousy filling your body, drawing the conclusion that she wasn't an old friend rather quickly. It started from the bottom of your stomach, crawling up your spine, spreading widely to your limbs.

Could it be harmless? Sure, that's what you were telling yourself, until the woman in question handed him a small piece of paper. She began to retreat - finally - causing a breath of relief to escape you, until Aaron calls after her.

When she turns, you're able to see her face. She’s cute, all smiles and outwardly confident. She responds to whatever he said, follows it with a laugh, before continuing her jog. 

You bit your lip, returning to Aaron with a bit more urgency, your ponytail gliding swiftly between your shoulder blades.

"Here," You handed Aaron his water, your gaze moving past him and continuing to watch her leave. As if she can feel your stare, she looks back. Your eyes may have been playing tricks on you, but you could've sworn she gave you a cunning smirk.

Your jaw clenched, nothing but that red-hot jealousy overtaking you. It blocks out all of your surroundings - Aaron's going on about something, but you don't hear him. He's muted, fuzzy, far away. You don't realize he's talking to you until he says your name, with a tad more volume.

You startle, blinking, "Sorry, what?"

"I said, do you want to go again? Or we can take a slow, evenly-paced walk back." His lips turned upwards humorously, taking a drink. "More your speed."

He's attempting to resume the ongoing, fun banter to draw your focus elsewhere, knowing you.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, nobody." He shrugged, securing the cap. "She just, er, handed me this." He explained carefully, holding up a small piece of paper.

He did it quickly; again, making it as nonchalant as possible. But even at the heightened speed you're able to see her number scrawled across the surface.

You immediately impede forward-

"Sweetheart," Just as he expected - he grabs your arm, holding you back from any impending confrontation you were set on.

"She gave you her number?" You looked at him, perplexed. The audacity. "Did you see the way she looked at me? She probably saw us kiss and yet-"

"I know, I know." He comforted, his voice a deep contrast compared to yours, hardening the more you spoke. He can practically feel you vibrating in fury. "Hey, it's okay. I'm discarding it, of course." He crumbled it in his fist, "Have zero need for it."

"But that doesn't excuse what she just did." You try to look past him again, but he uses his body to shield your view. "And I don't like it. Not at all."

"You're right, it doesn't, but it's okay." Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead, muttering his next sentence into your skin. "I'm yours. Nothing changes that."

"Damn right you are," you huffed, crossing your arms. Despite the distance (she's almost long gone by now), you're at the ready to grab Aaron, to kiss him fiercely if she ever so lightly takes a peek back.

"Forget about it, and I don't mean that in a dismissive way. Look at me when I say this," He tossed the paper in the nearby trash, grabbing ahold of your shoulders instead. "I'm uninterested. Unfazed. Utterly in love with you and greatly anticipating showing you how much once we're in the privacy of home. Preferably in the shower, and then again in bed afterwards."

He manages to pry a smile out of you, a blush forming at your cheeks, although it doesn't dissolve your pout just yet. "But..."

"But what?" He asked gently as he releases his hold, swiping his thumb across your cheek soothingly.

"What if she can run faster than me." You mumbled pitifully. You said so half jokingly, half seriously.

Aaron laughed warmly, spanning an arm over your shoulders and pulling you directly to his chest. "I highly doubt that."

"You promise?"

"With every ounce of me."

[the-third-fish]

What's most tragic about this move from Watcher is that they claim to do it because more money = higher quality shows, but it's that same "high quality" that made me stop watching most of the shows in the first place. Ghost files just isnt fun when every 3-5 minutes they roll some 3d information animation abt a gizmo or gadget that i already think suck and have already seen in every single episode. It's annoying to watch them use them and place any stock in what they produce because it's so obvious the machines are just programmed to produce "ghost data" on their own randomly. To take something funny like the spirit box and smother it another gizmo that cleans it up and takes the fun out of it.

The reason i loved buzzfeed unsolved was never EVER the "evidence" they gathered or even the history of the ghost story. It was the boys. Ryan scared out of his mind and shane laughing at him but still comforting him even though he thought it was all bs. The banter. It was never ever the ghosts that made the show

[cupidsdolll]

The Feeling Came Late

Prologue

pairings: grumpy!college student!Harry x fem!sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter .5/? (wc: 1.5k)

masterlist

- - - - - -

Fond memories ignored, thrown away in a second as if they meant nothing to him. Like the years of laughter were all just a dream, but they’re not. They were real and it drove him crazy. Harry only stared at the wall, face red and tears streaming down his face angrily. He didn’t know what to do, he was lost. He was angry, angry at the world, at himself because that was his best friend and at her. 

He was just a boy, a kid when it happened. Happy in his “prime years” of high school, he was thriving academically and socially. He was on top of his class work and one of the top students in all of his classes, alongside his childhood friend. They stayed friendly whenever they competed against each other, giving their congratulations when the other won in anything. Harry enjoyed the thrill of trying to be the first one to turn in his assignment though, he enjoyed the friendly banter they shared afterwards and during. It became their normal, he looked forward to it. 

Then it happened, and he was left broken. A shell of the smart and extroverted boy he once was. He can remember every detail of that day, he had just come home from hanging out with his childhood best friend – they had just gotten done studying and finishing the last episode of the season of their favorite TV show – when his mom walked alongside with him. The ride back home from her house to his was silent, filled with a sense of sadness and Harry couldn’t understand why she wasn’t happy. His mom was happy when she dropped him off at school that morning. She sat him down in their living room and said that this was important, and told him. She kept apologizing and trying to reassure him that everything was being done, tried, efforts were being done. They were going to fix this, help him. 

Of course, Harry’s just a kid who’s already dealing with all the new emotions of puberty and teenage feelings, so he screamed at her. Yelled something along the lines of “No, you’re lying and I hate you” but that’s still up for debate, he doesn’t think of this day often. He’d stormed away from her crying figure, her apologies are no good to him, won’t make everything better. He cried, screamed and threw things. He destroyed his room, tearing down pictures and throwing trophies, his vision was blurred from all of the tears in his eyes. He hated himself, it wasn’t his fault though. Nothing he could’ve done would have changed what happened, he couldn’t have stopped it. He knows that deep down, but he has to put the blame on someone, and it only makes sense that it has to be him. 

When he calmed down some, he’d taken all of his pictures off the wall, he couldn’t look at all of the times he was happy. It only reminded him of the feeling in his chest, and he stashed them all away in a box to be kept in his closet. Out of sight, out of mind he hopes will be the cause, but he kept two pictures. He couldn’t bear to have them forgotten, even if they were going to be locked away still. They were special, the people in the picture were special. They’ll always be special, so he cried some more as he placed them in his nightstand drawer. He spent the majority of the night crying, the tears seemed never ending and he hated it. He ignored his mom calling him for dinner and his sister who knocked on his door to check on him. She only sighed and reminded him that she loves him and will be there for him if he needs anything before she left him alone and headed back to her own room. 

Over time, he changed. It wasn’t gradual though, it was very noticeable. He stopped trying to compete with her, stopped trying to be the first anything. He stopped raising his hand, stopped putting efforts into presentations and powerpoints, stopped caring. He started getting into weed, he refused to try any of the harder stuff – not like his friends would give him any, they still had somewhat good morals and he also tried drinking. (A good thing about having older friends is the easy access to these types of things.) He stopped wearing soft and colorful clothes and started wearing darker clothes, jeans with rips in them and short sleeved shirts tight enough to showcase his growing muscles. He worked out more, wasn’t the lanky little boy she used to know anymore, his language expanded, started using more curse words and his tone grew disinterested and mean.

 He knew she watched him from a distance with sad eyes, he knew she tried to help him. He listened from his doorway as his mom talked to her, saying any excuse she can think of to not worry the little girl. 

‘Harry’s just not feeling very good, dear.’ ‘Harry’s just tired, he’s had a long day.’ ‘You know teenage boys can be difficult dear, he’ll come around soon,’ and other excuses were told to his friend when she came to check on him. He couldn’t exactly make out what the girl was saying in response to his mom, she’s always been such a soft speaker, and it upsets him more. He just wants to be left alone and she cares so much for him that she just want to help in any way,  and he doesn’t want to be rude and tell her to fuck off so he has his mom deal with it. She’s the emotional support thinker, not him. 

After a couple of minutes he hears the door shut so he closes his bedroom door and sits back on his bed, the two pictures laid out on his bed as a reminder of the love for his two closest friends, but also as a reminder of the pain he feels and the tears shed over something that wasn't his fault, the blame he put on himself. He sighs sadly as he looks at them once more before he gathers them and sets them in his nightstand drawer. He tries not to look at those pictures too often, he hates how they make him feel. Any time he looks at his best friend’s photo, it fills him with overwhelming sadness, bitter and hurtful. It fills his chest and makes him feel like he’s drowning in sadness, there’s sometimes a hint of anger but that’s never at him. It’s always directed towards himself, not his friend. He could never be mad at him, he was the closest guy friend he’s had and will ever have, he won’t have another one. When he looks at hers, it used to be happiness, love and adoration but it’s turned into anger and  jealousy. Her name will always leave a bitter taste in his mouth, his lips will always turn into a frown at the fleetest thought of her. 

He hates her, hates how smart she is, how she’s always somehow better at everything than him even when he spent hours working on something. He loathes how she just always knows what to say. He hates how she never fell off or even wobbled off the hill she was on no matter what was going on in her life. He dislikes how much he wishes he could be like that. He abhors how much even though he wants nothing to do with her right now that he still longs to be those little kids playing together and studying and gossiping. He especially hates how deep down he hopes that she’ll wait for him or beg for him to let her in, how he actually wants her to fight for their friendship. He loathes how much he misses her.

Instead of acting on those terrible ideas in his head on rekindling their friendship, he focuses on his popularity. High school ends and during the summer he experiments with his look, becomes a ladies’ man and immerses himself in that. He enjoys sex, the feeling of it all. The intimacy of something shared between two people, the feverish kisses and the sounds of his partners enjoying themselves. It’s a very good distraction from the one person who doesn’t seem to leave his mind. His reputation as a ladies’ man and a very skilled person grows, he becomes popular not only with the ladies in school but also with the fellow jocks of the school. He dabbled a little bit in the sports aspect of his education, he also tried out for the soccer team at his school. He’s always loved the sport, even as a little boy, something about the running and kicking balls amused him. He was also a pretty fast learner which helped his case a lot, but he still passed. He dabbled in a lot of different sports, not wanting to tie himself down to just one thing which applied to multiple different areas in the boy’s life. He tried anything to rid himself of one of the two names that haunts him no matter what.

[halfvalid]

through the night

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

description: zoro comes to the reader's room during the night. sex ensues.

tags: smut, female reader, oral (receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, kissing (a lot of it), soft zoro, first time together, confessions (kinda), fluff, no use of "y/n", banter, pwp (lowkey).

author's note: consent is sexy and so is zoro

i have up to now only watched 2 episodes of OPLA and have never consumed any other type of one piece media. expect him to be ooc. also it's my first smut fic help

It was nighttime on the Going Merry, and the dull kiss of the setting horizon drifted lazily through the single window in your room. You were lying on your bed, leaning against the headboard as you flipped through a book you’d picked up the last time the ship had been docked. It wasn’t too interesting, but it was something to pass the time with, so you stifled a yawn and flipped to the next page.

There was a knock at your door, and you glanced up, watching as the shoddy metal hinges slowly creaked open. Zoro was standing in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out nearly all the light coming in from the hall. He was still dressed in his daywear, which reminded you that you needed to change—the loose shirt and trousers you wore were, although clean, nothing near sleepwear.

“Zoro?” you asked, watching as he started into the room. You clicked your tongue before he could step another foot inside, though— “If you’re going to come in, take your shoes off.”

Zoro scoffed but obeyed, pausing by the mouth of the room to slide his heavy boots off. He tread lightly to where you lay, climbing up to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. “What’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” Zoro answered. You moved aside to allow him some more room, centering yourself on the bed. Zoro didn’t move, though.

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s possible?”

He looked unimpressed, propping his arms under his head and leaning back so his head was splayed against your thighs. His three matching earrings glinted in the light. “Luffy and Nami are being loud. Your room’s the farthest away.”

“Your elbow is digging into my gut,” you said, turning back towards your book. Zoro rolled his eyes, but readjusted his position, pulling his arms down to instead lay folded atop his stomach. “Are you just going to nap there?”

Zoro shrugged, and you had to stifle a giggle, the sensation vaguely ticklish. He’d never been a man of many words, so you lowered your book again and went back to reading. The light in the room was dim, though; after a few minutes, the glow from the light at your bedside no longer sufficed, and you were too tired to strain your eyes to squint at the page. You could, of course, just turn on the cabin lights—but Zoro was asleep by now, and you hadn’t even liked the book that much anyway.

You set it on your nightstand, gazing down at the slumbering man in your lap. Despite the glare he so often sported, Zoro looked near-angelic in his sleep, his face all smooth planes and straight lines. Those dark eyes of his were hidden like this, black lashes splayed across his cheeks as shadows emphasized the hollows of his bone structure.

He really was beautiful, an ever-comforting presence within the Straw Hats that your eyes had always strayed to. There was a certain kind of fondness you held for him that none of the other crew members could quite compare to, although if you voiced those thoughts Luffy would probably end up giving you a lighthearted scolding. You could already imagine the teasing from the other members of the crew—Usopp and Sanji particularly—making fun of your little crush, which is why you kept your lips firmly sealed. A secret was a secret, and this was yours to keep.

You finally tore your eyes away, focusing instead on getting out of the position you’d gotten stuck in. Somewhere in the back of your mind you liked the idea of Zoro sleeping in your lap, but the clothes you wore were getting increasingly uncomfortable. You carefully slipped out from under him, cradling his head so as to support him as you gently lowered him to the mattress. Thankfully, he didn’t rouse, and you slipped to the other side of the room to open up your wardrobe, satisfied knowing you weren’t disturbing him.

You made deft work, first brushing through your hair and rinsing your face with some clean water before focusing your attention on changing your clothes. You removed your trousers, instead donning a pair of shorts. You were halfway through peeling off your blouse to replace it with a softer, silk one, when Zoro coughed from behind you.

You froze, daring to glance behind you whilst still topless. Zoro had awoken, eyes having lost all trace of sleep as he slowly sat up, staring at your figure across the room. He coughed again as soon as your eyes met, dropping his gaze. “Sorry,” he said very carefully, voice hoarse and grating.

“No, it’s okay,” you managed out, but you were still frozen. Your thoughts were on the dark look that’d been in his eyes the split-second before he’d looked away—surprised but sharp, cutting like just his gaze could pierce through your soul. Gooseflesh had prickled up along your arms.

“I’ll just… go,” Zoro muttered, already having gotten up as he started shuffling towards the door. You jolted into action, nearly dropping the shirt still in your hands as you turned towards him.

“No, you can—” your words softened, seeing his gaze flicker rapidly around your figure before finally landing on some spot by your cheek. “You can stay.” You paused, hoping your words weren’t too direct. “If you want.”

“You should put your shirt on,” Zoro said, almost choking on his words, like they were too big to fit in his mouth.

Your gaze dropped down before a steady blush started climbing up the sides of your face. “Right,” you started, but it was like you’d lost control of your hands. The shirt still hung limply from your grip.

“Or you could…” Zoro paused, lips parted as he sucked in a soft breath. Carefully, he moved back towards your bed, the only sound in the room a soft thump as he sat back on it. “Not.”

You swallowed. You could barely feel the lax of grip as your fingers released the shirt, letting it fall to the floor in one pathetic heap. You took a tentative step towards Zoro, and then another, until you were right in front of him. The soft night breeze through the window caused chills to erupt down your spine. Or maybe that was Zoro’s expression—nearly studious in his attentivity, eyes grazing across your chest and torso like he was taking in information for a new, particularly high-paying bounty.

“Zoro,” you started. He finally glanced up at your face, and you shuddered, biting down hard on your tongue. “I, um—hi.”

“Hey,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word on his tongue. Your gaze flickered down to his lips. He seemed to notice, but he didn’t say anything; rather, he raised one of his hands, pressing it against your side until his fingers tightened against your waist, a present, ever-pulsing rush of warmth. “I think my chest is bigger than yours.”

You flushed, a quick rush of crimson gracing your cheeks as you turned away. Zoro’s grip on your waist tightened, and a low laugh escaped the bottom of his throat. “That was mean,” you whined. Zoro’s other hand came up to your face, fingers pressing against the underside of your chin. He carefully angled your face down, so you couldn’t look anywhere but straight at him.

“It worked to calm you down, though,” he said easily. You were about to protest against the fact that you had been calm in the first place, but then Zoro was kissing you.

Zoro was a lot less aggressive than you’d originally expected, but as you sunk deeper into the kiss, it started to make sense. Zoro was all clean lines when he fought, practiced and perfect—no space for sloppy lines or scribbles. The way he kissed was similar; he applied pressure, but not too much pressure, and his thumb traced firm circles into the skin of your waist.

He angled your head with the hand firmly propped against your jaw, so you didn’t have to do a lot of the work—just press against his lips and move against the gentle rhythm he’d set. His teeth scraped carefully against your lower lip, and he tugged, letting a soft gasp out from your throat.

Zoro took the opportunity to pry your lips apart with his tongue, the fingers splayed against your chin coaxing your jaw open until he could slide his tongue against yours. You let out a soft whimper, hands scrambling to his shoulders and running along the muscles of his back. Of course you’d known he was well-built, but the firmness of his body forced another squeak out of you—one he was more than willing to swallow up.

Eventually, Zoro’s hand dropped from your jaw, skimming along your body line before coming to rest on the underside of one of your breasts. You gasped as he started to massage the skin with his thumb, accidentally biting down on his lower lip in the process. He groaned, the sound low as his rhythm sped up, the hand cupping your waist dropping down to your hip.

And then he was hoisting you up and onto his lap. “Oh my God,” you muttered, causing him to break away, eyes glinting with amusement.

“What?”

A heady rush had blossomed along your cheeks again. “Nothing. You.” Somewhere in the back of your head, you wondered how strong Zoro had to be to lift you off the ground so easily with only one arm—granted, it hadn’t been that far of a lift, but still. “Kiss me again.”

Zoro laughed but obeyed, his hand still working at your breast as the other dropped to your thigh. Your fingers interlaced with his short hair, tangling within the moss-green locks as his tongue ran along the ivories of your teeth. His teeth scraped against your lip as he moved away, lips instead following the line of your jaw and moving down to your neck.

You dropped your arm from his hair, hand pressing flat against his upper back. Zoro’s muscles flexed as he chased down your throat, and you sighed as he pressed gentle kisses along the line of your vein.

“Been—wanting to do this for a while,” Zoro panted between kisses, placing a final one kiss at the junction of your collarbone before glancing tentatively back up at you. You met his mouth in another kiss, a smile you hadn’t felt rising bright along your cheekbones.

“Me too,” you whispered, and a look of relief flashed across his face before he was ducking his head again to press more kisses along your neck. You let out a laugh—you could feel the rumble of his lips against the sound as it left your throat. Carefully, you ran your finger along his earrings, soft clinks filling the room at the action. “What was that? Did you think I didn’t?”

“Dunno,” Zoro muttered, and you laughed again before he nipped at your skin, teeth scratching in a gentle bite. At your chest, his hand squeezed your nipple, and you gasped.

“That was mean.”

“Mhm.” Zoro didn’t seem appeased, his kisses turning sloppier—open-mouthed, full of bite. He never pressed down hard enough to hurt, but your mouth was full of soft gasps and whines, and your hand had come down to clench against his bicep. God, his arms. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

You nudged him, meaning only for it to be a slight press. But Zoro let the action guide him, falling onto his back with you pressed against him, flat against the bed. He stilled, both hands dropping to your hips as he gaze lifted to drink you in.

You were certain you were a mess—blushing, lips probably swollen, bruise blossoms that would purple by morning scattered all along your neck. But the way he looked at you made it seem like you were all dolled up—like you were outfitted in a flowing gown, eyes sparkling and hair perfect instead of the mess it most undoubtedly was.

“You’re pretty,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. Actually, you were certain you weren’t supposed to hear it, because before you could respond, he was pulling you across him, fluidly rolling you onto your back. His forearm pressed against the mattress beside your head, caging you in. Zoro seemed to like this angle, moving down your neck to your chest with more gentle kisses.

You were content to let him take what he wanted, eyes not moving from his face as you watched his lips brush over your breast. His tongue was hot against your skin, and you sucked in a tight breath as he swirled it along your nipple. Zoro steadied you with a firm grasp, hand pressing against your side before pushing up to attend to the breast that his mouth wasn’t. You squirmed, a soft pool of warmth sitting in your lower belly as he worked. A tight knot had formed somewhere inside, and you let out a breathy gasp.

Zoro’s gaze traced lower, hand leaving your breast in favor of skidding down your figure to rest at the hand of your shorts. He paused, eyes flickering upwards to meet yours. Hastily, you nodded, and his fingers dipped below the cloth, head lowering to press another kiss by your hip bone. Your hands clenched against the bed sheets as his fingers skimmed the rim of your shorts, coaxing them down inch by inch before they finally slid down to your knees. You kicked them off insistently, and Zoro laughed, one hand coming to stroke your thigh as if to make you stop moving.

Even though you’d partly expected it, you hadn’t been ready for the soft kiss he pressed against your inner thigh. His hand hooked around the side of your panties, dragging them down as he kissed up your skin, and you took in a sharp breath that he wholly and entirely ignored. His movements became more insistent as you squirmed, open-mouth and biting, tongue darting out from between his lips to languidly swipe up your thigh. Finally he reached the junction of your thigh and core, mouth pressing a feather-light kiss that dragged an entirely shameful sound out from your throat.

Zoro pushed your panties all the way off your hips, letting them sit by your knees even as you squirmed to kick them off. “Shh,” he murmured, and you stopped, heart pounding as the sound sunk deep into your bloodstream. The tight knot in your lower belly had only grown tighter, and your breath caught in your throat as you watched Zoro, his eyes flickering all around your exposed core.

He ran a finger along the side of your slit, and you shuddered, watching as he experimentally traced it across your folds. He lowered his head to your hips, pressing a kiss onto your clit. You were barely able to suppress the buck of your hips as Zoro’s hand came to rest on your thigh, pinning you down as his other hand worked along your core.

His finger found your vagina, carefully sinking between your folds as his tongue worked languid circles around your clit. You let out a moan, voice stuttering against your throat as his finger slipped deeper inside you. It only took him a few moments to push another one in, the soft scrape of his cut fingernails eliciting sparks that drew another breathy moan out of you.

“Isn’t it a little—unfair that I’m the only one not wearing anything?” you managed out between breaths, and Zoro stopped his motions, head lifting and eyes glancing up at you from under his lashes. One of his eyebrows arched in question, and his lips were glossy with your fluids, causing your core to squeeze around his fingers. Somehow, he didn’t even seem to notice the motion.

“Oh, that’s what you want to focus on right now?” he murmured, all low and throaty. He always spoke low-pitched, vocal chords all brash and grating from the back of his throat, but his voice hummed even deeper now, although that didn’t seem humanly possible. Your muscles clenched again, and Zoro’s gaze dipped down to where his fingers were still pushed inside of you. He fluidly pressed in deeper, fingers curling inside your body before pulling out and working back in. Your retort was lost as you moaned again, the tight feeling of your gut slowly unwinding as he moved back and forth inside of you.

His mouth lowered to lick at your clit again, and you cried out, barely suppressing a scream as his fingers dug, more insistent, inside of you. He pressed one final kiss against your clit, and then sat back, eyes fixed on working at your core instead. His fingers pumped in and out, steady and fluid. Your breaths came out breathy and broken, climbing closer and closer to your climax until he finally reached the summit inside of you.

“Come,” Zoro whispered, the hand not taking care of you running reassuringly along your thigh. You came suddenly, hips stuttering from where’d they’d lifted off the mattress, a cry ripping out of your throat. Zoro slowly slipped his fingers out of you, rubbing soothing circles into your inner thigh as you ran out your climax. Your breaths evened out, becoming less deep, less frantic; Zoro watched all the while, a glossy shine over his eyes and the faintest of smiles pressed along his lips.

You tilted your gaze down to his face, catching him just as he started to move again. The fingers drenched in your fluids came up to his mouth, and he licked them clean. Your stomach dropped, somehow already turning you on despite having come just mere seconds beforehand.

“My turn,” Zoro said softly, sitting up to start unbuttoning his shirt. You hoisted yourself up, hands skimming along the sheets beside him, uncertain of whether he wanted you to touch. You glimpsed a stiff tent in his pants as he sat up, and swallowed hard, eyeing the pull with apprehension.

“Do you want me to—” you tried gesturing down to his hips, but he caught your hand swiftly, pressing it against the buttons of his shirt. “What do you want?”

“Sex,” Zoro said. Nothing else. You held back the choke that dared to escape your throat, and a sheepish grin crossed his face. It was lopsided, nearly a smirk, if not for the genuine warmth glimmering at his eyes. “Sorry. That was vague.”

“It’s okay,” you assured, stifling a laugh. Your hands worked fastidiously at his buttons. It took far longer than you felt it should’ve, fingers all clumsy as you tugged them through their holes, unlooping them from where it fixed the cloth together. Soon enough, though, Zoro was stripping the last of the fabric off, tossing it carelessly across the room before pulling you into another kiss.

He was sloppier now that you’d come, more comfortable in his element—you could taste the tang of yourself on his lips, and you let out a sigh, hands moving down his figure to work at his belt. He had to stop kissing you to tug at his pants, pushing them down his legs before finally kicking them off fully.

You ducked your head to press a kiss at his navel, eyes tracing the length that jutted out from his hips. Your breath caught, gaze fixed to a pale vein running up the line of his length. “Up,” Zoro murmured, and you glanced up. Zoro pressed a long kiss to your mouth, one hand skimming around your butt to pull you up by the headboard. He ran a hand over your core, as if to ascertain you were relaxed enough for him.

“Do you have anything for it?” he murmured, lips sending chills down your back as he pressed a soft kiss at your jaw.

“I’m on the pill, yeah,” you huffed out, arms winding around his torso. Zoro hummed his response, fingers running up and down your thigh as he adjusted, hips sliding against yours to meet your core.

You sucked in a breath, but he was gentle with it, pushing in slowly, hand running along your lower back and coaxing you still. The sensation sparked tingles all over your body; up your spine, along your hips, down your legs like Zoro was electricity himself. You let out a little sigh as he pushed up to his hilt into you, hips stuttering against his as you both paused for breath. He brushed a ghost of a kiss along your lips. “Okay?” Zoro murmured.

“Perfect,” you answered, arms clutching tighter around him, fingers digging into his back. You hoped it wasn’t too sharp, but considering how big Zoro was, it was likely he barely felt the pressure—the crescents of your fingernails were probably just pinpricks to him.

Zoro started moving, then, his actions soft and fluid at first, fingers pressing reassuring circles into your waist and hips. He was nearly tender with it, motions languid and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Your breaths came out easy, soft and just barely edging towards gasps.

He started thrusting with more insistence soon, though; Zoro’s hips bucked against yours, and your grip tightened along his shoulder blades as he pushed in and out of you. Soft gasps and whines left your throat, in stark contrast to the heavy groans and grunts that barely stuttered past Zoro’s lips.

“Like that,” you said, barely able to let out words of encouragement as he hit your sweet spot, buried deep inside of you. You let out a throaty moan as he moved faster and faster, thrusts becoming harder and more aggressive. You knocked your head back, one of your hands reaching to grab Zoro’s from where it propped him up by your head. He welcomed the invitation quickly, fingers interlacing with yours, coaxing your palm open into a kiss of your hands. His thrusts worked harder than ever, and you stopped chasing the friction, letting your hips buck up against his as he shoved into you.

A low groan erupted from his throat as he hit your spot again, mouth coming down to bite into your shoulder as he suppressed the cry that tore from his mouth. You swallowed, gasping hard for breath as you felt him come inside you, your walls clenching tight around him before you also felt the familiar burst of pressure. You let out a gasping moan, mind buzzing with sparks and tingles. Vaguely, you felt Zoro’s hand against your hip, moving up and down in calming strokes.

It took a moment for you both to recover, coming down from the blissful high after long seconds ticked by. Zoro removed his mouth from your shoulder, carefully prying his jaw off from your skin. He scrutinized the marks he’d left—crescents of teeth, undoubtedly—before lowering his head again to press an apologetic kiss to the bite. You laughed in surprise.

“I can be a gentleman,” Zoro protested lightly, though his words didn’t hold much of a fight as he carefully slid out of you. He did it slowly, inch by inch, leaving a hollow sensation in his wake when he eventually parted from you. “You okay?”

“Lovely,” you answered honestly, eyes grazing up his chest before meeting his. “You?”

“I’m good,” Zoro answered, a vague smile on his lips. It was soft, tender; maybe not as big as ones you’d seen when he was laughing with the crew, but special nonetheless. He studied you for a moment, and you took the opportunity to trace his face with your eyes. His pupils were blown, slowly receding back into small dots of shadow, and his lips were kissed red, swollen over and glossy with your saliva. “Want me to draw a bath?”

“No,” you said, content just to watch him like this. “We can clean up in the morning, it’s getting late.” You hesitated, suddenly uncertain, teeth tugging at your lower lip. “Unless… you want to go?”

Zoro snorted. “No, I think I like it here,” he decided. He sat up, reaching to pull the blankets over your figure so the gooseflesh you hadn’t even noticed on your skin would subside. “Too tired to move, anyway. Might stay here forever.”

“Dramatic ass,” you mumbled, wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging him closer to you. Zoro obeyed, sliding beside you, one arm moving to wrap around your waist. “Go to sleep, you big dummy.”

Zoro’s breath was light against the shell of your ear. “That was unwarranted.”

“Sleep,” you insisted, and Zoro huffed, reaching the arm that wasn’t around you to the nightstand. He flicked the lantern off, then turned back towards you, finally settling down. His lips pressed a soft kiss along your shoulder, and you smiled, your hand reaching down to meet where his was splayed along your belly.

“Good night,” you whispered.

“Night,” he mumbled back, the end of the word tapering off into a soft, tired breath. You could feel his chest move, up and down in a steady, soft rhythm. You buried your head into the crook of his arm, letting out a contented sigh before finally closing your eyes to drift off to sleep.

© halfvalid 2023

[jeoncopi]

[1] EAGER DAYS | JJK

are you ready to witness what's like to have a very yearning, domestically soft, vulnerable, silly yet playful and hot military boyfriend?

welcome to military jungkook's episodes!

—this entire series are based during jungkook's current state. as I'll be writing with each irl update. so this series might last until jungkook's finally free (Imao).

IMPORTANT: each episode won't be necessarily correlated to one another but some episodes could have light references to previous actions, feelings or situations.

BE AWARE OF: 18+ CONTENT.

pair: jungkook x reader

word count: 1.1k

what’s in here?: cutely and reassuring banter.

[more espisodes]

EPISODE 1. “piercings? OUT!”

It’s early in the morning, you both haven’t eat.

Jungkook wakes up first, just like he has been doing it for a couple of days as he said that everything is for him to be able to accustom and get ready for his future new morning routine.

he’s been already so dedicated, using eunwoo’s gifted military watch too. — he didn’t liked thinking too much about going there but somehow, he had to if he wanted to mentally prepare. mostly when he really, really didn’t wanted to go.

he sighs as he’s brushing his teeth. so sleepy..

“okay, I’ll take them out now.” he murmurs to himself as he open his mouth, slender fingers touching his lips as he removes one of his lip piercings. “okay.. there’s one.” continuing by repeating the same process for the other one. “and.. last one.”

he takes a good look at himself in the mirror. fingers slightly rubbing his bottom lip. ‘the scar doesn’t look too bad’. he pushes the inside of his bottom lip with his tongue, having a better look at the size of the little holes. ‘yep, not too bad.’

stepping out of the bathroom as soon as he heards a sound that looks like it’s coming from the kitchen, ‘babe’. crosses his mind.

all he can see is your back as soon as you ask, “all good?” taking several steps closer to him when your body finally turns to face him and he could already get a whiff of the very tempting leftover pizza from last night that you were already heating. the smell quickly floating all over the place.

“yeah,” he responds without further ado.

your hands travel over his face into a cup as you inspected his face, slightly moving it from side to side. “your skin has gotten better.” you smile. “oh.” pausing, you start caressing your anular finger onto his bottom lip.

“oh.” he mimics your response in agreement. bambi eyes only examinating your every facial expression while yours are just so focused on his lips.

“it’s not that bad..” reassuring him, you mutter more to yourself but jungkook can still heard you very clearly.

“I thought the same.” barely managing to talk since you keep looking and touching his lips.

“I like it though.” leaving a peck on his lips. “you look sort of weird though.” you chuckle.

he does too. a sort of shy smile drawing his lips as he rubs the back of his head with his left arm, feeling a bit embarrassed without one solid reason. “it’s been a while..”

you then mirror him with a warm smile. “it really has been..” you pause. “it sort of looks like a vampire has now bitten your lip though..” you joke. “should I be jealous?” arching one eyebrow in a funny way.

jungkook laugh. “you’re so obsessed with vampires, I’m telling you.” while taking your hands off his face. he places them behind your back as he hugs you. sort of trapping you into his big body. snuggling his face into your neck sniffing you as if he was a dog and it makes you laugh.

“leave me alone!” raising your voice in between laughs. you finally detached your body from his. “you’re crazy.”

he boyishly smiles, crossing both his arms on his chest as he quickly point his chin up when he says, “you smell good.” with the tone of his voice being very playful and sultry..

he continues, this time leaning majority of his weight onto the dinner table with his right hand while his left one anxiously caresses one side of his neck, very slowly. “I’m..” he pauses. “..kinda scared of shaving my entire hair, if I’m being honest.” he confesses. “this is just step one,” referring to his piercings. “but step two..”

you listen as the pizza is finally heated. placing them with both plates on the table. your gaze lingering at him as you both comfortably seat.

“it’s hard” you respond, sympathizing with him.

“It is.” he re-affirms. “but it’s just hair, right?”

“eung. it’s not like you have a choice anyways..”

“wow. you really do help.” he jokes around at your unhelpful answer. he chuckles about it as soon as he sees your worried face. “all good babe.” being light hearted with a soft smile, he continues. “I do know.” answering to you. then he breathes, “I’m thinking of doing it myself.”

you didn’t say a thing for a few seconds. “I wouldn’t be surprised to be honest.”

he chuckles. “I am that predictable?”

“I mean.. sometimes.” you tease.

jungkook rolls his eyes. “ha.” he tsk with a bitter smirk on his lips. it makes you laugh.

“too lazy to book a date for it?” you genuinely ask, referring to the hair salon.

“mm.. not really. I just thought that I won’t ever have this opportunity ever again, you know?” he pauses. “it’s not like I could go bald just any other day.” he chuckles.

agreeing with him, “you’re right.” you respond. “I’ve heard that they shave it for you once you’re there so..” he repeatedly nods his head very cutely, making his whole luscious hair bounce.

you smile. he’s so cute.

“but I’ve also heard that you can continuing shaving your hair as long as you’re there, you know?”

jungkook laughs at your words. “babe, do you really think I’ll do this TWICE?” as his hand dramatically points at his chest when he speaks. making you both laugh.

“I’ll leave my short hair if that’s the case, but I won’t give being bald a second chance..”

“why? you don’t even know if you’ll look bad.” you pause. “maybe it’s refreshing, you’ll never know.” you tease, “maybe you’ll fall in love with your bald head, life can bring many surprises.”

jungkook only sides eyed you while he takes a bite at his pizza slice. “tsk. no.” cheeks full. “I like my hair the way it is, thanks.”

making you laugh. “okay then.” pausing. “given this situation, I’ll trust your skills.” doing a fake half reverence to him with your pizza as you take a bite.

“you should trust me!” cutely demanding, he says with a pout on his lips.

you laugh again. “I said I do!”

[the-fiction-witch]

Would you want to marry me Benji?

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Benjicot Blackwood Couple - Benjicot X Reader Reader - (OC) Y/n Mason (Misc house) Rating - Cute Word Count - 2237

Writer notes - I have not yet seen S2 I am going to watch it when all Episodes are out to the public. but he was requested so so much I have Wikied Him, I have done research I have watched the scene. But this is my first Benjicot Fic, I haven't seen the show yet, so Please I beg. Be kind to me. 

Y/n sat cradled by the roots of house Blackwood's fabled weirwood heart tree, shaded from the autumn sun by the busses of red leaves grown in for the long cool winter, She wore a gown of deep grey with red and black accents, her dark curls in a long intricate braid down her back littered with leaves made from copper as jewellery, a matching copper locket around her neck, She hums a soft and gentle tune a bundle of cloth in her lap as she slowly embroiders

A soft smile crossed Benjicot's face when he sees her there, He slowly approached her, his boots crunching on the leaves. "Y/n," Benjicot said softly. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

"Enjoying the afternoon is all my lord," she answered sweetly,

"Are you not lonely, all alone by this tree? Would you not like some company?" Benjicot said with a grin on his face, sitting down beside her against the roots,

"I'm never lonely my lord, with the gods to keep an eye on me" she smiled glancing at the tree-carved face, "but I suppose company wouldn't be ill wanted,"

Benjicot gave a hum in agreement, looking up at the Weirwood as well, before shifting his gaze back to her. "I'm sure the gods are a wonderful company, but they cannot offer you witty banter."

"I suppose not my lord" she nodded,

"Then I can consider my presence a blessing from the gods themselves," Benjicot said with a hint of mischief in his eyes. He leaned closer to her, his arm brushing against hers.

"Absolutely my lord" she agreed,

Benjicot chuckled, enjoying the feeling of her being so close to him. He was quiet for a moment, their shoulders touching, before speaking again. "What are you embroidering?" He asked, peering at the bundle of cloth in her lap.

"A gift, my elder sister sent a raven to me this morning. She is with child, I wanted to make a her a gift for the babe,"

"That's wonderful," Benjicot said, a warm smile on his face. "A gift is a thoughtful gesture, I'm sure she'll appreciate it greatly." He leaned closer to her, inspecting the embroidered cloth more closely. "What are you making for her?"

"a swaddle and blanket for the baby, I've already picked the softest fabric and now I'm embroidering it, with the heraldry of the houses coming together, so the babe may know of his history, this traditional,"

Benjicot looked impressed and he nodded approvingly at her project. "That's a beautiful idea," he said, his eyes wandering over the embroidery design. "I'm sure it will be treasured by your sister and her child." He shifted even closer to her, their thighs now touching, enjoying the intimacy of their closeness.

"I'm sure she will, my mother keeps threatening to make me a wedding gown," she chuckled,

Benjicot chuckled as well, amused by the thought of her in a wedding gown. "And what do you say to that?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Do you plan on getting married soon?"

"I have nothing to say, I have very little say in it," she chuckled, "My father will make a match and I shall marry him, such is the way of things my lord," she explained,

Benjicot's smile faltered slightly at her words. "You don't mind having no say in something so important as your future husband?" He shifted his body so that he was facing her fully, his eyes studying her features intently.

"Such is the way," she shrugged, "for my sister's, for my mother, and her mother and her mother and so on,"

Benjicot furrowed his brow, not satisfied with her answer. "But what if you don't like this theoretical husband your father picks? Or what if he's cruel? Or unfaithful?"

"I shall have to do my duty," she said sadly,

Benjicot's expression softened and he reached out to gently brush some of her hair off her shoulder, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her neck for a moment. "You deserve better than a future arranged solely out of duty, Y/n."

"thank you, my lord, but I suppose it's only a matter of time. My sisters are all wedded and now all either with children or have them. I don't imagine Father will leave me unmarried for much longer"

Benjicot's hand dropped from her neck, his gaze darkening at her words. The thought of her being married off to some faceless stranger left a bitter taste in his mouth. "No offence to your father, but I think he might be blind if he doesn't at least consider me a blackwood as a potential suitor," he said, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness.

she chuckled "I'm sure he considers your family my lord,"

Benjicot smiled at her reaction, glad to make her laugh. He shifted his position, his knee brushing against hers under the fabric of her skirt. "Then I pray that my family is considered highly in his estimation," he said with a grin. "For your sake, of course."

"Why? Would you want to marry me Benji?" She teased,

Benjicot chuckled softly, enjoying the sound of his name on her lips. "And why wouldn't I want to marry you? You're beautiful, clever, kind..." He leaned in a little closer to her, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "It could be a match made by the gods themselves."

she giggled, "That's too sweet of you my lord,"

Benjicot's grin widened at her giggle. "Only speaking the truth." He looked into her eyes, his own gaze warm and affectionate. "In all seriousness, Y/n," he said, his voice low and serious now, "the thought of you being married off to some man who treats you with anything less than respect and kindness... It does not sit with me well."

"no?"

Benjicot shook his head. "No." For a moment he was silent, his expression soft as he looked at her face, taking her in. "I don't wish to see you given to someone who doesn't deserve you," he said quietly. "You deserve someone who treats you well, who respects you and makes you happy. That's how it should be, for someone like you."

"And whom would you suggest?"

Benjicot raised his eyebrow at her question, his expression suddenly amused. "Oh, I don't know," he began, feigning ignorance. "Maybe me?" His tone was light, but the suggestion was serious. Benjicot looked into her eyes, waiting to see her reaction.

She blushed "... I would like that, but it's not up to me whom I marry,"

Benjicot reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Perhaps I could help you change that," he said softly, a spark of determination in his eyes. Benjicot leaned closer to her, his arm now resting on the ground near her hip, his body angled towards hers. "What if you did not have to marry whomever your father chooses?" he asked, his voice low and serious. "What if you could marry me instead?"

"I'd like that very much,"

Benjicot felt his heart swell with relief and joy at her words. A gentle smile spread across his face and he reached out to brush a knuckle against her cheek. "Then I will try to make it happen," he promised, his voice suddenly filled with determination. "I will go to your father and request your hand. I won't let anyone else have you." Benjicot beamed at her. The mere thought of making her his bride had filled him with a sense of joy and contentment that he had never felt before. "You should prepare yourself to have the most obnoxiously devoted husband in the realm," he said with a grin. "I plan on spoiling you rotten, my dear."

"I have no doubt my lord," she nodded, "Are you to see him now?"

Benjicot nodded. "I'll seek your father out, speak to him about this, and hopefully he'll give his blessing." He got to his feet, looking down at her with a slightly anxious expression. "Wish me luck," he said, grinning.

She nodded getting to her feet and taking his hand in hers standing on her tip toes to press a tender kiss to his forehead, "Good luck Benji,"

Benjicot felt his heart skip a beat at the feeling of her soft lips on his forehead. He reached up to touch the place where she had kissed him as if to prolong the sensation. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, looking into her eyes. "I won't be long. Wait here for me?"

"I will I promise," she nodded, "And last I saw him he was in the courtyard," She smiled doing her best to help him seek out her father,

Benjicot felt strangely calm, but still nervous despite himself. He wanted her father's blessing, he wanted her. "Thank you, Y/n," he said with an affectionate smile. "I'll see you soon." With that, he turned and walked off towards the courtyard.

When arriving at the courtyard he found the place busy as usual, and Y/n's father lord Mason sharpening his sword with the blacksmith, Benjicot approached the man, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the conversation to come. He stopped a few feet away, clearing his throat to get the lord's attention. "Lord Mason?" he said politely.

He glanced up glancing at the young lord before returning focus to his blade, "Lord Blackwood, to what do I owe this visit?"

Benjicot swallowed back his nerves and stood up a little straighter. "I came to talk with you about your daughter Y/n," he said, hoping his voice didn't shake.

"Y/n? ... Y/n..." Her father pondered, "Ahh short one? Curls like mulberry stem? And tits like a river lands milkman?" That one?"

Benjicot couldn't help the faint flush that crept up his cheeks. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice going a little higher than he would have liked. "That one."

"AHH, do forgive me, my lord. Six daughters hard to keep them straight" Benjicot chuckled at that, the tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Understandable, my lord. It is quite a large family, after all."

"so? What about her?"

Benjicot took a deep breath and met the lord's gaze. "I've come to request your blessing," he said evenly. "I wish to ask for Y/n's hand in marriage."

"marriage?" He chuckled "You sure? I have two more unmarried daughters you are welcome to take your pick of them,"

Benjicot's eyes darkened slightly at the lord's words. "With all due respect, my lord," he said, "I do not want any of your daughters but Y/n. She is the one I wish to marry."

"you like the tits?" He joked,

Benjicot's face reddened even further, but he held steady. "With all due respect, my lord, your daughter is more than just... tits," he said firmly. "She is witty and kind and beautiful, and I would be honoured to call her my wife."

"... Alright, you marry her, You make her lady blackwood, and you give her children. That a deal?"

Benjicot felt a wave of relief wash over him, followed immediately by a pang of anxiety. This was really happening. "Yes, my lord," he said, his voice steady. "I will marry her, make her lady Blackwood, and give her children. I swear it on my honour."

"then you have my permission to wed her," he nodded returning focus to his sword,

Benjicot felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A wide grin broke out on his face as he bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, my lord. You won't regret this, I swear." Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, practically jogging back to the Weirwood tree where he had left Y/n.

Y/n sat under the weirwood patiently waiting doing her embroidery,

Benjicot came to a stop a few feet away, watching her quietly for a moment. He still couldn't quite believe that not only had he asked for her hand, but her father had granted it. It all seemed almost too good to be true. He cleared his throat, a wide grin on his face as he spoke. "I have great news, my dear," he said, barely containing his excitement.

"oh enlighten me my lord," she smiled,

Benjicot stepped closer to her, his smile now so wide it was bordering on a grin. "Your father has given me his blessing to ask for your hand in marriage," he said, his voice full of joy. "I am to make you my wife."

"truely!"

"Truly," Benjicot agreed, his eyes sparkling with happiness. He stepped closer to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Our marriage is practically guaranteed," he said softly. "Soon, you will be mine. Lady Blackwood." Benjicot chuckled, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Seeing her giggle and blush because of him, just because he had called her "Lady Blackwood" stirred something in him. He gently brushed his knuckles against her cheek, his gaze affectionate. "Have you any idea how beautiful you are when you blush like this, darling?"

she giggled again and wrapped her arms around his torso squeezing him in a sweet hug "You're going to be the best husband Benji,"

Benjicot chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. Her warmth against his body felt like bliss. he said, his voice full of affection. "Nand you shall be the best wife in all of westeros,” 

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Serving Up Some Chemistry | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Youtuber!Reader [Face Claim: None]

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Summary: A quirky YouTube host invites rising stars Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri for a BBQ episode in honor of the Austin GP. Amidst hilarious banter and messy sauce spills, she and Oscar discover an unexpectedly adorable connection.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

check out my other works: Masterlist

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Surprise! 🚨 In honour of the Austin GP, we’ve got a special episode coming your way featuring none other than Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri! 🤠🍖

We’ll be trying some Texas BBQ and answering your questions—so drop them below! 👇 Let’s see if Oscar can handle the heat and if Lando can manage not to spill sauce on everything. 😆

Comments:

landonorris:

Can’t wait! Hoping I won’t embarrass myself too much. 😅

oscarpiastri:

Super excited for this! BBQ and questions? Sounds like a great time!

user1:

This is going to be epic! Can’t wait to see Lando and Oscar together!

user2:

OMG, the BBQ challenge is going to be hilarious! 😂

user3:

I’m ready for all the chaos that’s about to unfold!

user4:

Y/N, you’re going to have the best time! Can’t wait for this episode!

user5:

Excited to see how Oscar handles the heat! He better be ready!

user6:

Lando’s going to spill sauce everywhere, I can feel it! 😂

user7:

This is the best surprise ever! Bring on the BBQ!

user8:

The chemistry is going to be so fun to watch!

user9:

I just know this is going to be a classic episode!

Instagram Post by yourusername:

The episode is finally OUT! 🎉 Had the best time with landonorris and oscarpiastri—thank you both for being such great sports and handling the BBQ challenge like pros! 🤠🍖

Hope you all enjoy watching it as much as we enjoyed making it! Check it out on the channel now. 🙌

Comments:

oscarpiastri:

Had a great time! Thanks for having us, I’ll definitely be ready for round two. Maybe with less BBQ sauce next time? 😅

landonorris:

It was a blast! I’m still recovering from the sauce overload, but we’ll be back for sure! I’ll even bring an extra shirt 😂

user10:

They need to come back! That was the best thing I’ve ever watched!

user11:

The way Oscar was smiling the whole time—he’s definitely down for round two!

user12:

Lando being the messiest eater while Oscar just tries to survive? ICONIC.

user13:

The episode was pure gold! You three had the best energy!

user14:

Lando’s laugh is contagious! I was cracking up the whole time! 😂

user15:

Oscar was a whole mood trying to keep it together while eating BBQ! I need more of this trio ASAP!

user16:

The chaos, the laughs, the flirting—it was EVERYTHING! 😍

user17:

OMG, Oscar looked like he was about to faint when he first saw yourusername! He was so smitten. 😍

user18:

I can’t with how Oscar turned bright red when yourusername wiped the BBQ sauce off his chin! That was the cutest moment ever! 

user19:

Lando’s commentary had me in stitches! “Oscar, try not to drown in her eyes while you eat!” 😂

user20:

Their chemistry was insane! Every awkward pause just made it more adorable. I can't stop replaying it in my head!

user21:

“Can I get a little help with this sauce?” — Oscar was serving vulnerable and I am HERE for it! So smooth, Oscar! 😏

user22:

Lando saying, “Don’t get lost in her eyes while you’re eating, or I’ll have to save you,” was the best! He’s such a mess! 😂

user23:

The way Oscar shyly laughed at yourusername’s comments made my heart do flips! Can they just date already?

user24:

Their little glances and smiles were everything! I felt like I was watching a cute love story unfold right in front of me!

user25:

When yourusername asked, “Do you usually bring this much heat to a BBQ?” I was like, “Okay, that was smooth!” Oscar was totally flustered!

user26:

Honestly, the way they interacted was pure magic. They could literally sell me anything with that energy!

user27:

Lando is just a whole mood, trying to get Oscar to spill his secrets while keeping it light and funny! This was chaotic perfection!

user28:

I’m still thinking about how cute they were. Oscar’s shy reactions paired with yourusername’s playful teasing were too much to handle!

user29:

This episode was everything! I can’t stop thinking about how sweet their interactions were. I need more!

user30:

Their little glances and soft smiles were everything. Oscar’s flustered reactions were so endearing. ❤️

user31:

I can’t believe how much fun that was to watch! Lando being a mess and Oscar being adorable? What a combo!

user32:

I need behind-the-scenes footage ASAP! Their interactions were too cute to miss!

user33:

This episode was a masterpiece. Their dynamic felt so genuine. I need more content of Oscar and yourusername together!

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Race day vibes! 🏎️💨 Thrilled to be at the Austin Grand Prix and feel the energy in the air! Can’t wait to see Lando and Oscar out on the track today! Let’s go, papaya boys! 🍊🏁

Comments:

landonorris:

Let’s go! Can’t wait to see you there! 🏁

oscarpiastri:

Excited to have you cheering us on! Let’s make it a day to remember! 😄

user34:

Okay, but wearing his number and posing in his car? Is this a thing now?

user35:

I’m not saying you’re dating, but I’m not NOT saying it either! The signs are all there!

user36:

She’s literally living the dream! Can we talk about how adorable they’d be together?

user37:

Her rocking the 81 cap is giving major “I’m totally rooting for my crush” energy!

user38:

They better have some cute moments on the track today! I need content!

user39:

If she doesn’t end up dating Oscar after this, I’m going to be seriously disappointed. 😩

user40:

I see the chemistry, and I’m here for it! Can we get some couple content, please?

user41:

I bet Oscar’s heart is racing just as fast as the cars right now!

user42:

Can we please get some updates on this? I’m invested!

user43:

If they don’t end up together after this GP, I’m throwing a fit! The chemistry is undeniable!

user44:

I’m shipping them so hard right now! Someone make it happen!

user45:

All I’m saying is if I was in her position, I’d definitely be flirting with Oscar!

user46:

Wait, is she wearing Oscar’s number? 🤔👀 Something’s brewing here!

user4:

If they don’t end up together after this, I’m throwing hands! They’re practically destined to be!

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Nothing going on, just a shit ton of editing! 🎬✨ Can’t wait for you all to see the latest episode—it’s a tell-all with some juicy insights you won’t want to miss! Stay tuned! 🙌

Comments:

landonorris:

Oscar’s been whining about the new episode for days now. 😂 You’d think it’s his favorite show!

 ↪oscarpiastri:

I wasn’t whining! I was… politely asking. 😅

 ↪yourusername:

Oh really? I had no idea you were such a fan. I’ll try to make this episode extra special for you. 😉

 ↪oscarpiastri:

I already know it’ll be perfect, especially with your editing skills. 😄

 ↪charles_leclerc:

Oscar, you seem a little too excited about this episode. 😏

 ↪georgerussell63:

He's definitely excited. I’ve never seen someone so eager for an episode! 😂

user48:

Their banter is so cute! I can’t get over how sweet they are! 🥹💕

user49:

Oscar acting all shy is everything! They definitely have something special!

user50:

The way Y/n teases him? Major couple vibes! 😍

user51:

Lando just casually exposing Oscar's crush on Y/n is iconic!

user52:

I’m here for all the fluffy interactions! They need to get together already!

user53:

I can’t be the only one who sees the heart eyes Oscar has for her, right?

user54:

Oscar trying to play it cool but failing is the cutest thing ever!

user55:

The way Oscar and Y/n interact is giving me life! They are too cute! 😍

user56:

Oscar whining for the episode?? Yeah, they’re definitely crushing on each other.

user57:

The subtle flirting though?? I am obsessed. 🥺

user58:

They’re adorable! This is what I live for! Oscar is so soft when it comes to her! 💖

user59:

If they’re not dating after this, I’m going to be devastated. The chemistry is unreal!

user60:

Oscar’s got heart eyes for her, 100%! I’m here for the rom-com energy! 🍿

Instagram Post by oscarpiastri:

Not exactly the result we wanted today, but the team worked hard and I’m proud of the effort we put in. We’ll come back stronger next race. 💪 Thanks for all the support as always! Onwards and upwards. ✌️

Comments:

user61:

Oscar really thought he could sneak in that last photo like we wouldn’t notice… boy, we SEE you! 👀

user62:

Hold up. That last picture. Who’s holding your hand, sir? We need answers. 😳

user63:

Forget the race, who’s the mystery girl?! Man’s out here soft-launching a whole relationship!

user64:

Oscar: “We’ll get 'em next race!”

Also Oscar: casually holding hands with someone and trying to act like it’s no big deal. 🧐

user65:

You really thought we wouldn’t zoom in on that third photo? The fandom is about to explode!

user66:

Me pretending to care about race results while I’m over here like 👁️👄👁️ over that hand-holding pic.

user67:

Okay, but real talk… is that Y/n? Because I’m about to lose it if it is!

user68:

Oscar: "Tough race."

Everyone: "YEAH BUT WHO’S THE GIRL?"

user69:

Man, not you sneaking in a whole mystery date at the end. My detective skills are about to activate. 🔍

user70:

Is this Oscar’s way of lowkey announcing a relationship, or are we all collectively losing our minds?

user71:

Bro, you can’t just drop this and walk away like we’re not going to dissect every pixel of that picture. 😂

user72:

If that’s Y/n holding his hand, I’m officially shipping this HARD. 😍

user73:

Is that… Y/n?? Did Oscar just soft launch a relationship?? 😳

user74:

Me: focusing on the race results

Also me: WHO is he holding hands with?!

user75:

Nah, Oscar, you can't just sneak in a soft launch and think we wouldn’t notice! 😭

user76:

This race was cool and all, but let’s focus on what really matters. Oscar’s got a GIRL?!

user77:

Whoever is holding Oscar's hand, I hope she knows how lucky she is. But also... IS IT Y/N?! 🥺

Instagram Post by formula1gossip:

Spotted in the paddock! 👀 Looks like Oscar Piastri and YouTuber/host yourusername are more than just friends—caught sharing a kiss! 💋 Could this be the F1 romance we didn’t see coming? Fans, what are your thoughts? Is this the grid's new power couple? 🔥

Comments:

user78:

OH MY GOD I WASN’T READY FOR THIS TODAY!! 😱😍

user79:

STOP. OSCAR AND Y/N ARE ACTUALLY A THING?!? THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! 🚨🚨🚨

user80:

I knew it! I KNEW IT. The way he’s been looking at her in every interview was a dead giveaway. 🥲

user81:

This is so cute but also low-key creepy? Like, let them have their privacy. 😬

user82:

Nah, this was not on my 2024 F1 Bingo card but I’m HERE for it!! Oscar really said, “plot twist.” 🥵

user83:

Forget the race drama, THIS is what we’re all here for. 😂

user84:

I don’t know if I should be happy for them or freak out that the internet is creeping on their private moment. 😳

user85:

Okay but... am I the only one who feels kinda bad for them? Let them live! 😕

user86:

Man really went from “awkwardly flirting” to “straight-up kissing in the paddock.” Piastri’s got game! 💀

user87:

I need to know WHO took this picture because they deserve a raise for breaking the internet. 😭

user88:

Wait, Oscar really went from sneaky hand-holding to THIS?! Boy moves fast! 🤯

user89:

Okay, but if this is real, Oscar and Y/n are the cutest thing to happen to F1 since... well, ever. 😍

user90:

I’m dying at the fact that Oscar was so shy and now he’s out here making public moves. My heart can’t take it!! 🥺

user91:

This is cute and all, but also kinda invasive? Give them some space, people! 😕

user92:

How do I go from “aww, so cute” to “this is kind of a privacy issue” in one second? 😅

user93:

The way Oscar went from 0 to 100 real quick. Y/n must’ve unlocked his final form or something. 😏

user94:

Did we just collectively witness a romcom happening in real life? Oscar and Y/n, you have my full support. 🙌

user95:

Half of me is SCREAMING, and the other half is like, "y’all, this is kinda creepy… let them live in peace!”

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Well... cat’s officially out of the bag. 🐱💫

Comments:

landonorris:

FINALLY!! I’ve been keeping this secret for so long, I deserve an award for acting like it’s not disgustingly adorable every single day. 😩

 ↪yourusername:

Aww, poor Lando. We’ll get you a medal. Maybe one for “Best Third Wheel” too? 🥇😏

 ↪oscarpiastri:

Best third wheel and also the loudest complainer. You’ll be fine, mate. 😂

 ↪landonorris:

I WILL NEVER BE FINE. 😤

user96:

WAIT. DID HE JUST GIVE HER A FOREHEAD KISS?! I’m dead. 🥲

user97:

Oscar, can you fight?! Because Y/n is everyone’s crush now and you’ve got competition, buddy! 😤

user98:

Oscar is living the romcom life we all deserve. We need a movie adaptation of this STAT. 🎬

user99:

This was not on my 2024 bingo card but I’m HERE FOR IT. Y’all are too cute!! 🥹

user100:

Okay but… where’s the wedding invite? I need to start shopping. 💀

user101:

Oscar, how does it feel being THE luckiest guy in the paddock? 🧐 Asking for a friend.

user102:

Not gonna lie, I’m obsessed with this. Y’all are literally relationship goals. 🥰

user103:

Oscar out here being all shy and adorable while soft-launching the cutest relationship of the year. We’re NOT worthy. 😩

user104:

I swear if Oscar ever messes this up, the entire fandom is ready to throw hands. WE GOT YOU, Y/N! 👊

user105:

They’re that couple. You know, the ones who are so cute you can’t even be mad about it. 💕

user106:

If this was a movie, the soundtrack would just be us screaming "I ship it" on repeat. 🎶

user107:

Lando’s the third wheel and we love it.

user108:

Oscar and Y/n hard-launching their love while Lando cries in the background... the content we never knew we needed. 😭💀

oscarpiastri:

Couldn’t be happier to share this with you. 💛

 ↪yourusername:

Same. I love you, Oscar. 💫

 ↪oscarpiastri:

I love you too, always. 💛

 ↪user109:

Did they just say “I love you” in the comments?!? I’m unwell, this is TOO CUTE. 😭💖

 ↪user110:

Oscar dropping “I love you” casually like we’re not all DYING right now. 💀

 ↪user111:

Every time I see them interact, I lose more faith in my ability to ever find love this cute. 😩

 ↪user112:

Oscar and Y/n: existing

Us: screaming, sobbing, throwing up, planning the wedding. 🥳

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[razrbladekiss]

MAPLE HAZEL | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: he’s grumpy, and you’ve got enough happiness for the pair of you. you visit joel’s little coffee shop every morning, and he can’t deny that he enjoys the monotony of life with you the other side of his counter.

PAIRING: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: inspired by lorelai gilmore and luke danes, so with that info do what you will. this is full on golden retriever x black cat realness. fluffy. banter-y. dialogue-y. joel is grumpy but he’s sexy so we don’t mind. enjoy, my besties. not sure if i’ll do a part two, but i’ll let you know in due time, of course.🍁🫶🏻

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s like he’s moving from muscle memory. Putting down a cinnamon roll and maple hazel latte—with two extra shots of espresso—in front of the third purple stool at his counter, is almost ingrained into his brain. He wonders if one day you’ll ever take him by surprise and order pancakes, or a chai tea.

And you will. Just not today.

“Cinnamon roll, please!” You call from the door as you bumble over the threshold, fighting with the belt loop on your coat that’s gotten stuck on a brassy handle for the third time this morning.

“Already one step ahead of ‘ya.” Joel gestures to the breakfast spread at the wooden bar, and you smile.

Despite being a closed-off, stupid-person-hating, placid-at-times, grumpy old man, you can’t help admitting that you enjoy Joel’s company and general presence in your life.

His shop appeared on Birch Grove one sunny Saturday morning about three years ago, and you haven’t skipped a day since. Aside from Christmas Day, you have religiously sat at Joel’s counter and shared the trials and tribulations of life in Dallas as an overzealous twenty-something every single day.

He’s a great listener. Or, at least, you think that he is. He never interrupts you, or speaks over you. Joel always lends an ear to listen, even if he doesn’t always say all that much in response to whatever it is that you’re elucidating or complaining about.

“Thank you.” Breathlessly, you say. You take a seat and dump your purse onto the counter. “Got a busy day today. I’ve got a meeting, and I’m meeting Maria for lunch, and I’ve got a date—“

Joel’s face heats up. He turns to face you, striving to stay indifferent.

“A date?” Nonchalant, he asks. He slings a dish-cloth over his shoulder, and lifts a brow. “Does this man know that he’s going on a date with you?”

You make a face while stuffing a fork-full of pastry into your mouth. He’s so smug. With his stupid flannel and stupid little hat, you just want to rip the complacency from his lips. But he’s a good man. Just likes to try and take you down a few pegs.

But he can’t. Because you’re stubborn. And a little annoying.

“No, I just thought that I’d show up at his house in the middle of the night—because I’ve followed him home from work a few times and know where he lives—and rip him right out of his bed just like the troll that Danny Devito plays in Its Always Sunny.”

Joel let’s out a little laugh, not bothering to argue that what you had just told him didn’t actually happen in that episode, but finding it funny nonetheless.

He nods his head to you. “What’s his name?”

“Marcus.” Exaggerating your heart-eyed gaze, you tell him. “I met him at Costco—“

“Ah, Costco. Where every great love story starts. First you’re bulk-buying toilet paper, the next you’re sharing a dollar fifty hot dog—“

“Ha ha, Joel, you’re soooo funny.”

“I try.” He says, flippant, pouring coffee into another customer’s cup when they appear at the counter for a refill. He lifts the carafe and gestures to your almost-empty mug. “Want another?”

Your gaze is set on your wristwatch. It’s seven twenty-nine, and you need to be at work for nine thirty. Mentally you strive to figure out how much more time you can spend at the cafe, before you’re having to leave to get there on time.

“Is it maple hazel flavored?”

Joel tilts his head, glaring at you.

You swig the dregs of latte in your mug, and then push the polka-dot ceramic across to him. “Please.” You say, shyly.

Joel busies himself with customers, and general business-owner things for a few minutes while you finish your cinnamon roll and coffee. You can’t help watching him.

Because he’s great. He’s very caring—though extremely stern at times—and you know that if you’re having a bad day, Joel is only a two minute and thirteen second walk away.

He feels the same, too. Kind of. He knows that you’ll be sauntering into his shop at some point every day, and finds himself looking forward to seeing your wide-eyed gaze and larger-than-life smile.

And though he won’t admit it in so many words, Joel has a soft spot for you. It hasn’t always been apparent—he thought that you were utterly insufferable and obsessive when he first met you—but he can’t deny the fact that his life would be very dull without you.

Even if you do have a tendency to try to get underneath his skin.

“Are you dating, Joel?”

He rolls his eyes.

“What? It’s a very normal question to ask somebody that hasn’t been in a serious relationship for an entire twelve months.”

He pulls the cloth from his shoulder and wipes at his hands. “You and I both know that I ain’t got no interest in settlin’ down with anyone. Not yet, anyway.”

“You were willing to with Tess.” Pushing things a little, you say. You lift the coffee mug to your lips when Joel opens his mouth to chastise you, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re right. He can’t because he wanted to, once upon a time. Before Tess walked out of his life—not long after you started frequenting his shop—he wanted it all. A wife, kids, the white picket fence that his parents had back in Austin when he was a kid.

But it doesn’t always work out that way, and Joel has learned to live with the idea that if it’s too good to be true, then it most likely is.

“I can set you up with someone—“

“Not happening.” He says. “Last time you sent me on a blind date, the girl asked me if I was into pegging.”

You giggle. “Well? Are you—“

Joel says your name, glaring pointedly.

“Sorry.” Instinctively, your lips are set into a straight line. “But I can totally do better, this time. I know this girl—she works at this law firm—and—“

“Not interested.”

“Okay.” You smile, tight-lipped. You lift your mug, striving for your third cup of coffee this morning.

Joel pours the liquid gold into the cup, before he’s telling you that he’s not going to be giving you another for fear of you ricocheting off of each wall in his place.

“You’ll turn into a cup ‘a coffee one day.”

Nodding—with a completely content smile—you say; “least I’ll be happy.”

“You’re always happy.” Joel mithers to himself, turning away. It’s one thing that he admires about you, though loathes at the same time.

Endless optimism and positivity is only something that he can long for, because he’s simply not capable of it. It baffles him how you are, especially when he’s—on occasion—so rude to you. So miserable, and cold, and completely undeserving of your friendship.

He likes that you’re so forgiving. That—even after he accidentally offended you last summer when making a comment about your then boyfriend—you can never hold a grudge, especially when it comes to him.

Because you both hold one another on a pedestal so high, neither can seem to do anything to tear themselves down. And Joel really enjoys your daily routine. That’s why he’s never not in the shop.

“You got any weekend plans?”

“Never do.”

You stretch out your arms—intertwining your fingers as you do to make them click—and offer a small smile when he cringes.

“You wanna catch a movie?” Shirking the idea that you have a date tonight—with a man who you really aren’t all that interested in, you’re just being nice—you propose.

Joel’s heart starts to beat at a tempo that’s noticeably quicker than usual. Not a lot, but it’s certainly faster.

“I think that the theatre downtown is showing the original Beetlejuice, on Saturday.”

He nods, approving. “I—uh—I’ll have to get someone to cover—“

“I’m sure you can ask your brother. Or maybe Maria?”

“I ‘spose.” Reluctant, he says. “But what about Michael? What if he wants a second date?”

“Well, his name is Marcus. And if he wants a second date—which I doubt he will—then he’ll just have to live with the fact that I have plans with a friend on Saturday night.”

He hopes that you can’t see him blush.

“Won’t it be weird?”

“Why?”

“We hardly speak outside of the shop.”

“God, Joel.” You throw your head back, laughing. “We’re the same people wherever we are. And we’re going to the movies—not a lot of talking takes place there, hon.”

His nostrils flare at your sarcasm, but mainly at the little pet name. Joel knows that you’re sweet—that you often use those terms of endearment when speaking with those that you care about—but it does something to him.

Something that he does not like.

“You can either come, or stay here and be miserable because you have no social life, or no girlfriend, or no other friends aside from me, your brother, and your brother’s wife—“

“Alright, fine.” Joel stops your miniature hate-train, and puts his hands against the counter. Your eyes zone in on the veins embellished within tan skin—how prominent they are when he’s fronting irritation—and let out a small sigh.

He’d be a lot more handsome if he smiled more, you think.

“So.” You paw at your purse, pulling it off the wood. “I’ll let you know what time the showing is, and we can make plans around that.”

Joel rounds the island and follows you as you pad toward the door, veritably sweating. “Plans?” He asks. “You never said nothin’ ‘bout plans. I thought we were just gonna catch a movie?”

“We are.” You tell him. “But we need to buy snacks, and grab dinner before we go—“

“Now you’re just describing a date.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m describing hanging out with a friend, Joel.”

“A friend?”

“An acquaintance…?” Testing the waters, you ask. Your eyes squint a bit, awaiting his retort.

But he just smiles.

“A friend.”

You smile back. Bigger.

“Perfect.” Your purse is slinging over your shoulder, and you pull your jacket to close so that the darned loops don’t get stuck on the door handle. Again. “I can’t wait.”

“It’ll be…nice.”

“Jeez, Joel. At least try to sound enthused.”

His hands shoot up in defense. “I am. Just have a hard time showin’ it.”

Your head nods. “I know. I’m only kidding. It’s nobody’s fault that you’re the human equivalent of Oscar The Grouch—“

“Alright, get out.” He holds open the door for you, smiling tight-lipped as he watches you leave. “Enjoy your meeting. And your lunch. And your date.”

You chuckle, thanking him with another bright smile.

“See you in the morning, Joel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You step onto the sidewalk—that’s festooned with red and orange leaves as the tree above starts to shed its skin—turning to wave at him. “See ‘ya, kiddo.”

[royalarchivist]

Over 6 years ago, Technoblade and Etoiles played together on United UHC. Although they never got to meet each other on the QSMP, it's nice to see that they already had some nice banter and a fun dynamic developing during the brief time they knew each other. Here are some highlights from the video where they played together!

Subscribe to Technoblade! Technoblade's United UHC video

[ Part 1 || Part 2 || Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

-

Technoblade: Bonjour, mis amis! (Hello, my friends!) Oh god, we already have a zombie on us. No! It's targeting me 'cuz I have subs!

Etoiles: Excellent teammates.

Technoblade: Do trees spawn in these worlds?

Etoiles: [Laughing at a screenshot of Technoblade saying "deforestation has gotten pretty bad"]

Technoblade: It's gotten pretty bad, man. What is this?

Etoiles: B-bonjour.

Technoblade: Stop speakin' Chinese.

Etoiles: You're the best Skywars player, dude. That's why.

Technoblade: That doesn't mean much.

Technoblade: Oh my god, I found diamonds!

Etoiles: Oh, whoa.

Technoblade: Subscribe to Technoblade! I'm suddenly a UHC god.

Etoiles: Oh, I got diamonds too! :D

Technoblade: ...Wow, way to ruin my moment. Wow. Can I just have this one moment?

Etoiles: Yeah.

Technoblade: Does everything- does everything need to be a competition? First diamonds I've ever mined in Minecraft.

Etoiles: Let's redo it, Techno. Let's say I don't have diamonds. I don't have diamonds, you have-

Teammate: I found diamonds!

Technoblade: Oh my god.

Technoblade: I have seven diamonds! And I'm not saying that to one-up you, but- I mean I am, but I mean I'm- I'm also tellin' the truth.

Teammate: Nobody knows which one of you guys is the mole.

Technoblade: Yeah, that's gonna be very awkward.

Etoiles: Maybe Technoblade is already-

Technoblade: I'm right behind you.

Etoiles: Technoblade is already saying to his friend-

Technoblade: I'm already in the Mole chat, plannin' your death.

Etoiles: Like, I'm kind of scared of Technoblade, actually.

Technoblade: I'm not even good, why would you be scared of me?

Etoiles: Because you're the King of Bedwars.

Technoblade: Alright, ok, ok, so here's how it works- I get paid per episode, right? So I'm not gonna betray you on Episode 2.

Etoiles: [Laughs]

Technoblade: Now let me enchant.

Etoiles: I'm so bad at hearing sound because when I'm hearing lava-

Technoblade: Nah, it's 'cuz the sounds are in French, isn't it?

Etoiles: [Laughs] I'm gonna kill you, bro.

Technoblade: No!

Etoiles: [Laughs] I'm gonna kill you.

[4fahy]

i feel like people are forgetting some stuff about skk...

the whole point of skk is that they're both brains and brawns. that's how they survived alone for so long before becaming the double black. they don't complete each other perfectly, they suplement each other perfectly, that's why they're so strong.

chuuya is extremely smart and emotionally inteligent. at the age of 15 he was already the leader of the sheep, he got to rimbauld on the same time as dazai did. he can use his ability with crazy versatility, BUT he can still be fine without it.

and dazai can hold himself on a fight pretty well thanks. literally on the first episode he was alone against an out of control tigersushi. kicked the guy's face with a handstand from a sitting position while handcuffed. literally leaped out of the water like a flying fish holding his weight with just one hand.

chuuya could be on the same level as dazai and fyodor, but he's too human for them. he has empathy, and wear most of his feelings on his sleeve. and dazai could be as straightfoward as chuuya, but humans are so very interesting for him that he prefers observing, planning, picking apart the minds of everyone.

but

at the same time chuuya gets drunk with half a glass of alcohol and dazai bantered with a dog and ate dog food and both of those things happened on the actual main manga not on wan they're both weak and stupid and fucking pathetic i want to put them on a blender until they turn into juice.

[svt-luna]

ᡴꪫ ⋆ GAME CATERERS X SVT ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── episode 2-1.

Game Caterers x SEVENTEEN

synopsis: Episode 2-1! After failing to eat because of the character quiz, the members of SEVENTEEN are given a chance to win prizes from PD Na’s ‘Super’ Store, they just have to answer more quizzes… and eat lemons (?)

hope this makes you guys smile even a little bit after the announcement of Jeonghan’s official enlistment date 🤍 everything will be fine, he’ll be back in no time!!!

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST

╰౨ৎ fan reactions ╰ ౨ৎ game caterers masterlist

[added captions are in brackets] ᡣ𐭩

bold dialogues are spoken in english ᡣ𐭩

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the open field where the members of SEVENTEEN were taking their break. Some of them had retreated to the cool shade inside the green room, while others preferred to stretch their legs outside, taking in the fresh air. The quiet hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter filled the atmosphere, a stark contrast to the intense competition and energy of their earlier activities.

Near the basketball court, Mingyu, Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Luna, Mingaho, and S.Coups strolled leisurely, the rhythmic bounce of a basketball punctuating their casual banter. Mingyu dribbled the ball skillfully, tossing it back and forth with Jeonghan, while the rest watched with amused smiles, occasionally chiming in with playful remarks.

[SEVENTEEN is taking a break]

Not far away, Vernon, Joshua, and Hoshi lingered near PD Na and his team, who were busy setting up a new challenge. Their curious eyes followed every movement as the staff arranged a variety of items— a table, shelves filled with prizes of all kinds, from snacks and toys to more substantial rewards like food packages. The three members exchanged intrigued glances, trying to guess what the upcoming game might involve.

[Wild SEVENTEEN wanders around]

PD Na, the writers, and the rest of the production crew were focused on the task at hand, setting up the elaborate display. The scene was bustling with activity, yet there was an undercurrent of anticipation in the air, as if everyone, from the staff to the members, knew that something exciting was about to unfold.

[CARAT's enemies are doing something suspicious]

Suddenly, the familiar crackle of a megaphone broke through the quiet hum of the surroundings. From his place behind the makeshift prize table, PD Na’s voice rang out, amplified and clear. “SEVENTEEN, do you hear me?”

“Yes!” Vernon, Hoshi, and Joshua, who were already lingering near the table, replied in unison, their voices carrying across the field.

“The store is open for ten minutes. If you need anything, run and get what you need,” PD Na announced with a mischievous grin, knowing the chaos he was about to unleash.

“Yes!” the trio echoed once more, their excitement palpable.

On the other side of the field, Mingyu, Wonwoo, Minghao, S.Coups, Luna, and Jeonghan, who had been slowly making their way towards the action, exchanged knowing glances. The pace of their steps quickened as they anticipated what was coming next.

“It’s first come, first serve,” PD Na added, the challenge now fully set.

The second those words left his mouth, Hoshi, Vernon, and Joshua, who had been hovering near the front, bolted forward, pushing their way to the prize table with a newfound urgency— Vernon placing first, Hoshi placing second, while Joshua was third.

[Somehow they placed 1st and 2nd and 3rd]

Their sudden sprint caught the attention of Dokyeom, who finally made his appearance on the field, his eyes widening as he realized what was happening before placing himself behind Joshua. Meanwhile, Mingyu remained calm, his tall frame allowing him to maintain a leisurely stride as he continued typing on his phone. The benefits of being the tallest in the group meant that he could easily cover the distance in just a few strides.

Behind him, Luna, ever the playful one, decided to take matters into her own hands. With a burst of energy, she jogged up behind Wonwoo, who was just ahead of her, and leaped onto his back. Wonwoo, more than accustomed to her antics, didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed onto her legs, securing her as he broke into a run, his laughter mixing with hers.

“What?” S.Coups asked, already running.

“First come, first server.” PD Na repeated.

Jeonghan and Minghao, not ones to be left behind, also picked up their pace, running toward the prize table, determined to snag the best items before the others. All the while, Mingyu remained unhurried, his attention split between his phone and the scene unfolding before him. His relaxed demeanor was a stark contrast to the frantic energy of the others before he placed himself behind Minghao.

[11 people arrived in no time]

One by one, the rest of the group started trickling in, each one more eager than the last to see what was happening. Seungkwan, who had just emerged from the green room, immediately sensed the buzz in the air. His eyes widened in excitement and slight panic as he hurriedly jogged over to the gathering crowd. "What's going on? Carbo Buldak? What?" he asked, his voice laced with urgency as he tried to get the inside scoop while still catching up.

[All 14 including Dino are here]

Dino, right on Seungkwan’s heels, placed himself at the very end of the line. As he surveyed the lineup in front of him, he asked, “Am I last?”

“I think so,” Seungkwan confirmed, his tone resigned yet still full of curiosity about what awaited them.

['Super' Store opens]

The members have now lined up in front of PD Na’s table in this order: Vernon, Hoshi, Joshua, Dokyeom, Jun, Wonwoo, Luna, S.Coups, Jeonghan, Minghao, Mingyu, Woozi, Seungkwan, and Dino. The line stretched across the field, each member craning their neck to get a better look at what was in store for them.

In front of them, PD Na stood behind a table labeled ‘Super Store,’ his expression one of playful authority. On the table sat a large container filled with folded papers, clearly the key to whatever missions they would face. Next to it, a bowl filled with slices of lemons gleamed ominously in the sunlight. Beside the table were shelves packed with various prizes, ranging from snacks and food to more luxurious appliances and toys, all meticulously arranged to entice the members.

[Starting with general items from the department store]

“We prepared various stuff. If you don’t need anything, you can go rest. If there’s anything you want, pick one mission and succeed in it,” PD Na explained, his voice carrying over the members’ heads as they all leaned in, listening intently.

The members at the back of the line peeked out from their positions, trying to catch a glimpse of the setup. A collective “Ooooh” of excitement rippled through the group as they began to understand the challenge before them.

“Vernon, what would you like?” PD Na asked, starting with the member at the front of the line.

“The luxury tea set,” Vernon answered, gesturing toward the pristine set displayed on the shelf.

“That’s three stars. That’s the price. If you fail, it’s three pieces of lemon,” PD Na explained, finally revealing the purpose of the lemon slices, which had been a source of mystery and apprehension among the members.

[If they fail the mission, they need to pay]

[Have as many lemons as the # of stars on the item you chose]

As realization dawned, the group reacted with a mix of dread and amusement. “It’s one piece of lemon for each star,” Hoshi explained to those at the back of the line, his voice carrying a slight hint of amusement.

[Items in various prices are available]

“But I can’t eat any lemons,” S.Coups groaned, already imagining the sour torture that might await him.

“I can eat lemons no problem,” Jun chimed in confidently, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I love lemons,” Luna declared from her spot behind Wonwoo. She had finally dismounted from his back, now standing on her own two feet but still surrounded by her best friends. S.Coups, who was directly behind her, casually wrapped his arms around her neck, leaning in close, his face right next to hers.

“That’s right. What makes you like it? I can’t— just thinking about it makes my mouth water,” S.Coups confessed, his voice low and close to Luna’s ear.

“It tastes clean,” Luna deadpanned, her tone serious despite the oddity of her statement.

[What?]

S.Coups burst into laughter, unable to contain himself. “What are you talking about?”

“Like air fresheners… you know… clean?” Luna giggled as she tried to explain, her logic making perfect sense in her head even if it sounded absurd out loud.

S.Coups, still laughing, nudged the side of her face with his forehead, his amusement clear. “Have you tasted air fresheners?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“No. But the smell… it’s clean and lemony,” Luna insisted, bringing her hands up to gesture as she spoke, her eyes wide with sincerity.

[Effects of not eating lunch]

S.Coups just shook his head, still chuckling. “Alright,” he said, letting it go but clearly entertained by the entire exchange.

As the excitement around the ‘Super’ Store grew, PD Na addressed the gathered members with a broad grin, “Is there anything you want?”

“Yes!” they chorused, voices overlapping in eagerness as the members in the back shifted to the sides, trying to get a closer look at the prizes. Their collective enthusiasm was palpable, each member already eyeing what they might want to claim.

“Joshua, what do you want?” PD Na asked, directing his attention to Joshua, who stood near the front of the line.

“I want the Dyson hair dryer,” Joshua responded confidently, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of getting his hands on such a coveted item.

Before Joshua’s words had fully settled, both Luna and Seungkwan exclaimed in unison, “That’s mine!”

“I was eyeing it too,” Hoshi added, his tone a mix of playful rivalry and genuine desire.

PD Na, sensing the brewing competition, chuckled and added fuel to the fire. “You might want the same item. The person who takes it first gets to keep it.”

“It’s first come, first serve,” Dokyeom reiterated, the rules sinking in as Luna pouted, her chances of snagging the hair dryer seemingly dwindling with every second. She knew that with her position in the middle of the line, one of the members at the front would likely snatch it up before she had a chance.

“What do you want?” Minghao asked him, his curiosity piqued by Mingyu’s interest.

“The golf club,” Mingyu said without hesitation, his eyes locking onto the sleek set displayed prominently.

“I’m taking it,” Wonwoo interjected, a hint of challenge in his voice.

“Aigo,” Luna teased Mingyu, giggling to herself. The playful exchange between the members was as much a part of the game as the prizes themselves. She couldn’t resist poking fun at Mingyu, her laughter light and infectious.

Mingyu turned to give her a look— a mix of mock annoyance and amusement that only deepened her giggles. She playfully avoided eye contact, her gaze darting around the field as if suddenly interested in anything but him. The act was enough to draw laughter from Wonwoo, who pointed at Luna, enjoying the little moment as much as S.Coups and Jeonghan, who were both chuckling along.

Woozi, ever the practical one, casually stepped away from his spot in the line and settled into one of the chairs set up to the side. He crossed his arms and leaned back, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed the lively scene before him. “I should watch first,” he said, his voice calm and unhurried.

PD Na, noticing Woozi’s retreat, called out with a hint of curiosity, “Woozi, are you giving up?”

Woozi shook his head, still relaxed in his seat. “I’m not materialistic. I’m going to watch first,” he explained with a nonchalant wave of his hand, signaling that he was content to sit back and let the others scramble.

“You want to watch first and join later?” PD Na pressed, intrigued by Woozi’s strategy.

“Yes,” Woozi confirmed, giving a slight nod. The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, drew a few chuckles from the staff nearby.

As Woozi declared his lack of materialism, the rest of the members were anything but. They were all busy eyeing the prizes, their heads bent together as they muttered among themselves, assessing their options and plotting their next moves.

[Some members are more materialistic than others]

PD Na turned his attention to Dino, who was at the end of the line, seemingly less intense in his desire for a prize. “Dino, do you want the razors?” PD Na asked a playful edge in his voice.

Dino glanced at the razor set and then back at PD Na, a confident grin spreading across his face. “I think no one’s going to take it. That’s mine for sure,” he said, the certainty in his tone making the others laugh.

“How many blades?” Seungkwan asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he moved over to inspect the razors, Dino following close behind. “This is bad. It’s three blades,” Seungkwan reported with mock seriousness, his brow furrowing as he considered the implications.

“Then he won’t take it,” Jeonghan teased from his spot in line, a knowing smile on his face.

“He uses five blades or more,” Seungkwan added the mock concern in his voice causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the group.

“He’ll choose the alcohol instead. Watch.” Luna said, brushing the hair that was flying on her face because of the wind.

“Then I’ll take Chamisul,” Dino decided with a shrug, his choice of alcohol over razors eliciting even more laughter from his members.

[He's firm]

“See?” Luna said.

[And she’s right]

“All he needs is alcohol and a razor,” Wonwoo quipped, shaking his head in amusement at Dino’s simple yet perfectly logical desires.

[Dino's going through adolescence]

As the members continued to debate and joke about their prize choices, Minghao took a deep breath, his eyes sweeping over the clear blue sky. “It’s nice weather. This is what you call a gift,” he commented, his voice reflective as he enjoyed the cool breeze that had settled over the field.

Jeonghan, hearing Minghao’s philosophical take on the situation, scoffed out a laugh, finding the whole moment— filled with both lighthearted banter and genuine appreciation— hilarious and somehow quintessentially very on-brand.

[‘Super' Store's first customer is Vernon]

Vernon, who stood first in line, stared at the array of folded papers on the table in front of him. Among the mostly white slips, a lone pink paper caught his eye. His curiosity piqued, and with a small furrow in his brow, he asked, “There’s only one pink. Is that a special mission?”

PD Na leaned over the table, arms crossed, his face betraying nothing. “You never know,” he said cryptically, “You have to see it for yourself.”

S.Coups, standing further back in the line, craned his neck to peek over Vernon’s shoulder, instantly egging him on. “Vernon, choose pink!” His encouragement sparked a ripple effect, and soon the other members joined in, playfully urging Vernon to take the mysterious pink slip.

Luna, however, scrunched her nose in doubt. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she muttered, her tone wary but still lighthearted.

Vernon’s lips twitched into a curious smile. “I’m curious,” he admitted, his hand hovering above the papers for a moment before decisively picking the pink one. He handed it over to PD Na with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

[He picks the one and only pink mission]

PD Na unfolded the paper slowly, teasing out the suspense, before revealing its contents. He raised an eyebrow and announced, “Vernon’s special item... it's a dud.”

Vernon’s eyes widened in shock as PD Na showed him the slip, confirming his misfortune. The nearest members— Hoshi and Joshua— burst into laughter at his defeat, their teasing louder than the rest.

“That was so obvious,” PD Na teased, shaking his head. “Go to the end of the line.”

Vernon, still processing what had just happened, walked to the back of the line in disbelief. “What did you do?” Jeonghan asked with a chuckle, watching Vernon as he passed.

[He didn't do anything]

“It’s just a dud,” Vernon answered, his voice dazed as he fell into place at the end of the line.

“Told you,” Luna muttered, leaning against Wonwoo and absentmindedly tapping his back like a drum, her smug expression barely contained.

Next up was Hoshi. With a determined gleam in his eye, he confidently selected his mission paper and breezed through the quiz, securing his prize— the coveted Dyson hair dryer. His victory crushed both Luna and Seungkwan’s chances, the two of them deflating in mock despair.

“But that’s mine!” Seungkwan groaned, his eyes following the sleek dryer as it moved out of reach.

Joshua, however, fared just as well as Hoshi. He nailed his mission with ease and chose a box of alcohol as his prize, earning cheers from the others.

[Joshua who also lost the Dyson, purchases a box of Chamisul to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth]

Next up was Dokyeom, whose usual sunny disposition remained intact as he picked his mission. To everyone’s delight, he passed with flying colors and beamed as he reached for his chosen prize— a bunny plushie from ‘Earth Arcade’.

[Next customer is Jun]

As Jun approached the table, he confidently selected his prize— bathroom slippers— without a second thought.

PD Na, looking somewhat surprised, commented, "I mean, this isn’t what I expected at all." He chuckled, realizing that three members had successfully claimed prizes consecutively.

Jun, unbothered, shrugged. "I'm not good at games," he admitted, though his face showed determination.

PD Na unfolded the mission paper and asked, "Do you think you can do this?"

“What?” Jun blinked, unsure of what the task was until PD Na revealed the slip, reading aloud, "Lift the soccer ball more than ten times."

Immediately, the reactions from the members came flooding in. Wonwoo burst out laughing, while Jeonghan exclaimed, "Wow," and Luna, with a laugh of her own, said, "It’s too windy."

And she wasn’t wrong. The wind had picked up considerably, making their hair whip around wildly. Jun’s hoodie flapped in the breeze as S.Coups, standing behind Luna, found himself getting a faceful of her hair. Chuckling, he gently patted her hair down, trying to tame it.

"He can never do it." Woozi declared from his seat, shaking his head.

“You’re guaranteed to get a lemon,” Dokyeom teased, while Woozi added, "You can bet all the prizes."

Jun’s expression shifted into something more comical as he started practicing different movements. “What do I do?” he asked aloud, testing whether to use his knee or foot to lift the ball. His exaggerated movements had the group in stitches.

"He’s really bad with a ball," Dokyeom commented, half-laughing, half-groaning.

[Do all you can to kick it 10 times]

"As long as you don’t use your hands," Mingyu explained, grinning, as Jun gingerly picked up the soccer ball. But instead of following through with the proper kick-up technique, Jun placed the ball on his hoodie and began bouncing it like it was a trampoline.

[What are you doing?]

“That’s not going to work,” PD Na remarked, grinning.

[You got the wrong place]

“This isn’t ‘Going Seventeen’,” Jeonghan chuckled knowing that they had more freedom to cheat in any way they desired in their own show.

[Translation: That's what they do on 'Going Seventeen’]

Wonwoo joined in, laughing. "If this were ‘Going Seventeen’, we would have done that."

“Try it like this. Believe in yourself.” Seungkwan chimed from the side.

“It’s okay even if you can’t do it.” Jeonghan said.

“Fighting!” Luna said.

[The world thinks SEVENTEEN is athletic]

[But that's not true]

Jun finally readied himself, positioning the ball correctly. The members watched closely, all eyes on him as they began counting aloud, “1…”

But before anyone could even get to two, the ball rolled off Jun’s foot, falling to the ground immediately. The group exploded into laughter as Vernon clapped enthusiastically from the back.

[Failed just as expected]

“You’re terrible,” Mingyu teased, unable to hide his grin.

Jun, laughing at his own failure, shrugged and walked over to the other side where PD Na stood waiting with the inevitable lemons. “You like lemons.” S.Coups teased, still amused.

[The 1st customer to eat the lemon]

Jun laughed as he accepted his fate, preparing to eat the lemons as he sat down next to Woozi as the game went on.

[Next is Wonwoo]

Wonwoo stepped up next, his eyes set on the shelf. “I want the golf club,” he said firmly.

[The big spender]

PD Na looked intrigued and gestured towards it. “Why don’t you try it out first?”

Wonwoo smiled but clarified, “It’s not for me. My dad just started playing golf.”

As he made his way toward the golf club and lifted it, Luna let out a soft, “Cute.”

“He’s a good son,” S.Coups added, watching with an approving smile.

[He plans to give it to his father if he succeeds]

Mingyu examined the club from a distance and nodded, “It’s a nice club.”

“My dad started playing,” Wonwoo repeated proudly, clearly thinking of giving it to him.

PD Na then asked, “Anyone else here play golf?”

Immediately, S.Coups and Mingyu raised their hands, while Luna playfully pointed at Jeonghan, who had his hands tucked in his pockets behind her. Wonwoo and Minghao also gestured to the three, highlighting their golfing experience.

PD Na, noticing the others, chuckled and told Wonwoo. “People in the back are glaring at you.”

Mingyu, always quick to tease, grinned, “Have four pieces of lemon.”

Before Wonwoo could respond, Luna shot back at Mingyu, grinning, “Leave him alone. Buy your own golf club.”

Mingyu pouted at her remark, while the others— Jeonghan, S.Coups, Wonwoo, and even PD Na— laughed, amused at Luna’s quick wit.

Wonwoo, having eyed the prizes with a steely determination, finally turned his attention to the folded papers. With a steady hand, he picked one and handed it over to PD Na, who unfurled it with a sly smile.

[Will he get to be a good son?]

"It's the Forehead Quiz," PD Na announced, holding up the slip for everyone to see.

Immediately, Mingyu perked up with curiosity. "Is it new?" he asked.

"It's new," PD Na confirmed, glancing around at the group. "You’ll have to identify your members by just their foreheads. Guess whose it is."

The members let out a collective sound of surprise and amusement. "I might have a chance," S.Coups said, cracking a grin.

Luna, always ready with a playful quip, peeked over Wonwoo’s shoulder, her chin barely resting on him. "It’ll be easy if you get me," she teased, her laughter bubbling up.

[Only female member]

Wonwoo chuckled softly, "That's true."

But Luna wasn't done. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she whispered to him, "I don’t think he’ll give you me, though. That’d be too easy."

Despite her playful demeanor, Wonwoo seemed uncertain. "I'm not great at remembering appearances," he admitted with a shrug.

Beside PD Na, one of the writers began preparing four slices of lemon into a cup, just in case Wonwoo failed. Jeonghan couldn’t resist laughing at the sight. "There are four already," he teased, his voice light with amusement.

"Alright," PD Na interjected, ready to start the game. "Guess who it is among your members."

Wonwoo steeled himself for the challenge as PD Na reached beneath the table to reveal the first picture.

"Don’t tell him." PD Na warned the rest of the members, who were now gathered around Wonwoo, their eyes wide with curiosity.

“No one's going to tell him.” S.Coups declared, a grin pulling at his lips. "We all want the golf club."

As S.Coups said this, Jeonghan silently gestured toward Luna, who was still close to Wonwoo, her proximity implying she could easily help him out. She didn’t care about the golf club, after all.

[Spotted their target]

Before Luna could take advantage of the moment, S.Coups gently wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him with a soft tug. She shot him a look, just about to protest, but Jeonghan was quicker. He covered her mouth with his hand, stifling any attempt she might make to give Wonwoo the answer. Luna turned her head and glared playfully at the notorious game cheater, knowing she'd been defeated this time. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she accepted her fate, her gaze bouncing between Jeonghan and S.Coups.

[Cheaters vs. Cheaters]

PD Na finally held up the photo, which is a close-up of a forehead. "1, 2, 3," he counted down counted down.

[Handsome forehead]

"Mingyu," Wonwoo answered immediately, without a moment of hesitation.

They all went silent for a split second, the shock palpable. Even Mingyu blinked in surprise, “Wow. That’s me.” he said in disbelief.

Luna, still holding Jeonghan’s hand to her mouth, managed to pull it down but continued to grip it, eyes still on the photo. "He’s right," she confirmed, her voice laced with disbelief. She turned toward Wonwoo, impressed. "You got it."

PD Na’s voice rang through the air as he announced, "Correct!" The simple word echoed, followed by a brief pause before the group erupted. Wonwoo, not one for wild celebrations, still raised both his hands in victory, grinning broadly as he said, “Yay!” His subtle but satisfied response only made the situation more amusing, while the rest of the group marveled at his surprising success.

Dokyeom joined in with his usual animated energy, gesturing toward the photo. "That looks like S.Coups," he said, still convinced it wasn't Mingyu’s forehead after all.

Jeonghan, always keen on stirring the pot, quickly backed up Dokyeom’s observation. "I thought that was S.Coups too."

But Luna shook her head, determined as ever. "No. It's totally Mingyu," she argued, standing her ground.

[Seventeen can recognize each other just from seeing the forehead]

As Wonwoo stood there processing his correct guess, he offered an explanation, voice calm but amused. "I thought that was either S.Coups or Mingyu."

"I thought it was S.Coups from the eyebrows," Jeonghan added, his usual sharp tone now laced with a hint of curiosity.

PD Na, still processing the unexpected turn of events, pulled out the full picture for the final reveal. He unfolded it slowly, drawing out the suspense before finally showing the entire face, confirming that it was, indeed, Mingyu.

Wonwoo, still stunned by his successful guess, clapped his hands together. "Wow. How did I get it?" he asked, half-joking but genuinely shocked by his good fortune.

Jeonghan and Luna, standing nearby, simultaneously congratulated him, both saying, “Congratulations!” in unison. Their shared response, so perfectly timed, made them laugh, as it often happened between the two of them.

Without wasting another second, Wonwoo made his way toward the prize table. His eyes lit up with satisfaction as he reached for the golf club— the very item he’d had his sights set on from the start. The moment his hand wrapped around the handle, Mingyu couldn’t resist adding his own brand of commentary.

[Wonwoo wins the golf club]

“He’s handsome. He’s good-looking,” Mingyu said, his tone dripping with playful self-praise as he pointed to the photo of his forehead. His compliments earned a hearty laugh from PD Na, who shook his head at the shamelessness of it all.

As the rest of the members watched Wonwoo stand there with the golf club, Mingyu’s teasing voice cut through the murmurs of amusement. "That's not durable enough for your father," he said, feigning concern but with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

The moment Mingyu said it, Jeonghan and S.Coups immediately jumped in with synchronized agreement. “He can’t play with that,” they both chimed in, gesturing toward Wonwoo and the club. Their antics were met with laughter, their playful gestures signaling for Wonwoo to put the club back.

Luna, standing to the side, shook her head at their constant teasing, chuckling softly. "Ya, you guys are something else," she said, voice light with amusement, a smile tugging at her lips.

[Sympathetic bunny]

In his usual calm and unbothered manner, Wonwoo merely shrugged, offering an innocent response. “I’ll let him decide,” he said, his genuine tone making the group laugh again.

[He really cares about his father]

Wonwoo, seemingly unaffected by all the teasing, made his way toward the winners’ area and took a seat next to Woozi, who glanced at the golf club before offering some advice. "If your father doesn’t like it, sell it to them," Woozi said, a mischievous glint in his eye as he gestured toward Jeonghan, Mingyu, and S.Coups.

A thoughtful expression crossed Wonwoo’s face before he nodded. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed.

[The next customer is bunny no. 1]

It was finally Luna’s turn, and she stepped forward with a determined look, her eyes sweeping over the prizes on display. Almost immediately, her gaze landed on the three boxes of Lego sets displayed in all their intricate glory. Her eyes twinkled with excitement; it was no secret to her members that she had an obsession with Legos, and one particular set caught her eye. She pointed toward the box she wanted, the Disney Castle, its grandeur sparking an obvious desire.

“I want the Lego— the Disney Castle,” Luna declared, her voice brimming with a mix of excitement and longing.

[Another big spender]

From behind S.Coups, Jeonghan leaned forward, an amused grin spreading across his face as he took in her choice. “You don’t have that one yet,” he acknowledged, his teasing tone light but sincere, watching her with a knowing smile.

Luna hummed in confirmation, giving him a small nod as she swirled her hand around the bucket of folded papers. Her fingers danced over each one before she selected a slip, pulling it out with anticipation. Handing it to PD Na, she awaited her fate. PD Na opened the slip, quickly scanning the words before turning to Luna, mock sympathy playing across his features. “Aigoo, can you do this?” he asked, his tone laced with exaggerated concern.

Luna blinked, confusion knitting her brows together. “What?” she asked, slightly wary.

“Times table,” PD Na announced, holding up the paper for everyone to see. The words seemed to hang in the air, and Luna’s jaw dropped slightly as she stared at it, the realization dawning on her.

The members around her exploded in various reactions— some shocked, others cheering her on. S.Coups and Dokyeom laughed while Wonwoo nodded in encouragement. Hoshi could barely contain his amusement, clapping his hands as he rocked back and forth.

“You can do it,” Jeonghan encouraged from his spot, his voice soft but supportive.

Luna raised an eyebrow in disbelief, shaking her head slightly as she deadpanned, “Wow. They got fun little quizzes and games, and once it got to me, it’s math all of a sudden.” Her tone was dry and unimpressed, her sarcastic remark making the entire group laugh heartily, even PD Na couldn’t hide his chuckle.

[She hates math the absolute most]

“You can do it. You’re good at math,” Wonwoo commented from his seat, offering his usual calm reassurance.

PD Na smiled at her before picking up a card from the writer beside him. “Alright. I’ll give you a question, and you must answer within three seconds,” he explained, his voice taking on the serious tone of a quizmaster.

“Are you ready?” he asked, locking eyes with her.

“Yes,” Luna said, taking a deep breath, her face focused as she prepared herself.

PD Na barely glanced at the card before he announced, “17 x 17.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Luna answered confidently, “289,” without hesitation, her voice cutting through the silence like a sharp knife.

A stunned silence followed, everyone too shocked to react immediately. Even PD Na looked momentarily taken aback before finally finding his voice. “Correct!” he exclaimed, raising his hand to applaud her quick thinking.

[She is somehow good at the thing she hates]

The members erupted into cheers, all in amazement at her swift and accurate answer. Their reactions were a mixture of awe and admiration, as compliments echoed through the group.

“She’s smart!” S.Coups exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Wow, she’s amazing,” Hoshi added, his voice filled with respect as he clapped excitedly.

Jeonghan, standing close by, decided to make it official. “Clap!” he announced dramatically, waving his hand toward the others as if commanding them to celebrate her victory properly. The entire group burst into a round of enthusiastic applause, their hands coming together in a loud, appreciative chorus.

Luna’s face lit up with a smile, her confidence shining through as she skipped her way over to the prize table. Her eyes locked on the box of Lego she had chosen earlier— the Disney Castle. She pulled it toward her, wrapping her arms around it in a tight hug, grinning widely as the excitement bubbled up inside her.

[Wins a prize on her first try]

“Yay!” she cheered, her voice sweet and triumphant as she made her way toward the right side of the area, where the winners were sitting and watching with their prizes. The massive box was almost comically large against her petite frame, but Luna didn’t seem to mind one bit. She had gotten exactly what she wanted, and the smile on her face told everyone that this small victory was enough to make her day.

After Luna had made her triumphant skip back to her seat with her coveted Lego set, the focus shifted to the next contestant— S.Coups. His eyes scanned over the prizes, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he sized up the options. After a moment of deliberation, he made his choice, eyes locking onto one of the more understated prizes.

"I’ll take the golf balls," S.Coups declared, pointing at the sleek box on display.

Jeonghan, who was still watching the proceedings closely, commented with an appreciative nod. “I like how they have all our logos on them,” he said, inspecting the design from a distance. His tone had that casual admiration that often came when something caught his eye.

[There are logos from every album]

S.Coups grinned, clearly satisfied with his choice. “I can’t use them anyway,” he admitted with a laugh, glancing over his shoulder at the other members. “I’m going to put them on display at home.”

PD Na, who had been rifling through his question cards, interrupted their banter with a slightly ominous tone. “It’s another 4-star question,” he said, emphasizing the difficulty level, making a few members wince in sympathy.

S.Coups shifted nervously, rubbing his hands together. “I can’t eat lemons, what do I do?” he muttered, half to himself.

Without missing a beat, Mingyu chimed in from his spot in line, “Just eat the lemons,” his teasing tone prompting light laughter from the members.

PD Na unfolded the paper that S.Coups had handed him and, with an enthusiastic flourish, announced, “It’s the Capital Quiz!”

The disbelief on S.Coups’ face was immediate and palpable. “Oh, I don’t know anything,” he said, his voice tinged with panic.

“You’re out,” Mingyu teased, peeking out from his spot with a mischievous grin.

Woozi joined in, shaking his head. “He can never get it,” he said with confidence.

“He can never do it,” Joshua added, his eyes gleaming with playful anticipation.

Dokyeom, laughing from beside Luna, added his own cheeky input, “Enjoy the lemon.”

PD Na, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, turned to the rest of the group. “Do you all know each other's weaknesses?” he asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

“Oh, of course,” they replied in unison, nodding with mock solemnity.

PD Na chuckled, then turned back to S.Coups with a pitying look. “I’ll make it easy for you,” he said, his voice full of exaggerated empathy as he readied the question. “What’s the capital city of Indonesia?”

Without thinking, S.Coups blurted out, “Kuala Lumpur.”

There was a beat of silence before Jeonghan, standing behind him, gently shoved him in disbelief. “Jakarta!” he scolded, his voice brimming with disappointment.

Mingyu shook his head, equally exasperated. “You’ve been there so many times before. We had a concert tour there!” he added his tone a mix of amusement and disappointment.

From where she sat, Luna, her head leaning comfortably on Dokyeom’s shoulder, chimed in, her voice laced with dry amusement, “He gave him an easy one.” Dokyeom, unable to contain his laughter, doubled over, his whole body shaking with mirth.

“Jakartan CARATs are going to cry,” Dokyeom said, shaking his head at S.Coups.

Hoshi, who had been thinking aloud, turned to the others. “Wasn’t Jakarta the last stop for ‘Be The Sun’?” he asked, glancing at Wonwoo, who nodded in confirmation.

“Indonesian CARATs…” Seungkwan trailed off before being cut off by Mingyu.

Mingyu nudged S.Coups in the arm, pointing toward the camera. “You need to apologize.”

With a resigned sigh, S.Coups turned toward the camera, looking genuinely remorseful. “Dear Jakartan CARATs, I’m sorry,” he said with a small wave of his hand.

As he headed over to the seats with his cup of lemons, S.Coups muttered under his breath, “Gosh, I can’t eat any lemon,” already dreading the sourness. He picked one up hesitantly, eyeing it as if it were his mortal enemy, and finally bit into it. The reaction was immediate. His face scrunched up in distaste, and he flinched at the overwhelming sourness. “I’m crying,” he exclaimed, his voice filled with exaggerated misery.

Watching him struggle, Luna’s expression softened. She extended her hand toward him, offering a bit of comfort. “We’ll share it,” she said with a gentle smile.

S.Coups looked at her in disbelief. “Really?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

Luna simply nodded, still holding out her hand. With no hesitation, S.Coups handed her one of the lemon slices from his cup. “Give me two,” she said with a grin. “You can have the last two.”

[Bunny no. 1 hates math but loves lemons]

He handed her another slice, chuckling despite himself. “I love you,” he said in mock sincerity, clearly grateful for the gesture.

Luna chuckled as well, easily biting into the lemon without flinching. “Love you too,” she muttered, her attention already drifting back to the game as she continued to watch the rest of the members with amusement.

With S.Coups recovering from the tart aftermath of the lemons, it was Jeonghan’s turn next. He stepped forward, surveying the prizes, his sharp gaze settling on the golf ball set that had been catching the attention of many. "I'll try the golf ball set," he said decisively, pointing toward it.

PD Na looked up with a hint of curiosity. "The golf balls?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

"Yes," Jeonghan responded with a nod. But as he prepared to commit to his choice, a flicker of longing crossed his face as remembered the Dyson, a prize he had been eyeing earlier. His usual mischievous glint returned as he swept his long hair back with a practiced flick of his hand. "Gosh, Dyson. I'm so jealous," he mused aloud, almost wistfully.

This moment of honesty didn’t escape Mingyu, who, ever the opportunist, saw it as his chance for some playful negotiation. "Can I steal Dyson for eight pieces of lemon?" he asked PD Na with a grin, making the entire group laugh, including PD Na.

[What a brilliant idea]

While everyone enjoyed Mingyu’s antics, his attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere. Turning toward the left, Mingyu’s eyes lit up, and with genuine awe in his voice, he commented, "Wow, you two look so cool." His words immediately piqued the curiosity of the others, and one by one, the members shifted their gaze in the same direction. Their playful exclamations of amazement followed as they saw both Luna and Hoshi seated comfortably on the clean, trimmed grass. With their prizes neatly arranged in front of them, the two were a picture of relaxation and quiet contentment, watching the proceedings from a distance.

[Jealous] [The winners are laid back]

"It's awesome," Hoshi chimed in playfully, squinting up at the sun before dramatically lifting his head toward the sky. The way he soaked in the sun made Luna burst out laughing, her head tipping back as she joined in on the silliness.

[Joshua joins them with Chamisul]

Not to be left out of the peaceful scene, Joshua strolled over, the box of alcohol he had won still in hand. Without a word, he placed the box down, using it as an impromptu seat as he settled beside them. Hoshi, embracing the lazy atmosphere, laid his head on top of the Dyson he had proudly won.

Luna, ever playful, followed suit, lying down as well, but in her own style. With a teasing smile, she positioned herself so her head rested on Hoshi's stomach, closing her eyes for added comfort. The group marveled at how serene the three of them looked.

“I’ve never won anything like this before,” Joshua admitted, his tone light but with a hint of amazement as he glanced at the prizes.

“Me too,” Luna and Hoshi echoed in unison, their voices harmonizing as they basked in the feeling of victory.

"Dyson is nice," Hoshi added, his voice laced with satisfaction.

As the playful banter from Hoshi, Luna, and Joshua echoed softly in the background, Jeonghan stood up from his spot, walking confidently toward the table. His eyes scanned the bucket of folded paper slips for a moment, and with a swift motion, he plucked one from the pile.

With the slip in hand, he approached PD Na and handed it over, his casual demeanor only adding to the anticipation. PD Na opened the paper, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face before he made the announcement. "It's Commercial Relay," he declared, raising an eyebrow.

Jeonghan’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Commercial Relay?" he repeated, more to himself, his tone shocked and uncertain.

From the back, Seungkwan, ever the playful commentator, called out with no hesitation, “He can never do it!” His words sent ripples of laughter through the group.

Luna, still lying comfortably across Hoshi’s stomach, her fingers lazily tracing shapes in the air, tilted her head up just slightly and chimed in. “That’s your major, Han,” she reminded him with a small smile.

Seungkwan suddenly turned towards Luna, a look of realization dawning on his face as he pointed at her dramatically. "He majored in commercial production," he exclaimed as if he had just remembered something important, the excitement of his discovery clear in his voice.

PD Na, who had been caught off guard by this little revelation, turned to Jeonghan with a questioning look. "Is that your major?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.

Jeonghan, ever the smooth talker, nodded. “I majored in commercial production," he confirmed, though a mischievous smirk soon followed. "But I don’t watch TV, so…” he trailed off with a chuckle, shrugging nonchalantly.

There was a brief pause, the group hanging on PD Na’s next words as he prepared the cue card, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth. “Alright, finish the phrase," PD Na instructed, ready to test Jeonghan’s knowledge. "'Everyone…'"

Without missing a beat, Jeonghan threw his arms up in mock enthusiasm and shouted brightly, “‘Hello!’” His exaggerated confidence and the completely wrong answer sent the entire group into fits of laughter.

From the back, Seungkwan let out an exaggerated groan, “What?” he scolded playfully, his disappointment palpable as the rest of them continued to laugh.

PD Na grinned widely, shaking his head. “Wrong!” he declared with glee, enjoying the light-hearted atmosphere.

S.Coups, still reeling from the effects of eating a lemon was the first to chime in. “Isn’t it ‘Watch out for cold’?” he guessed, his brows furrowed in thought.

Seungkwan, ever the knowledgeable one, shook his head confidently. “It’s ‘Hope you become rich,’” he stated, clearly pleased with himself for knowing the correct answer.

[Only Seungkwan got it]

Jeonghan, still chuckling at his own mistake, looked around at the members, completely unbothered by his blunder. "Is it not ‘Hello’?" he asked with a laugh, repeating his cheerful action one more time for emphasis.

[Jeonghan's too polite] [Take your lemon]

As PD Na handed Jeonghan his inevitable cup of lemons, Luna, still lounging on Hoshi, couldn’t help but comment. “You’re cute,” she said with a small smile, watching him with an affectionate glint in her eye.

In response, Jeonghan sent her a quick, playful wink before moving to sit down beside Woozi and S.Coups, the cup of lemons in hand. Looking over at S.Coups, Jeonghan leaned in and asked with curiosity, “S.Coups, did you finish yours?” referring to the dreaded lemons.

S.Coups, still struggling with the remnants of his own lemon punishment, looked up at Jeonghan and sighed dramatically. “I had one so far,” he admitted, though his expression turned fond as he added, “Jiyeonie ate two of mine.”

[He had 1 out of 4]

The atmosphere on the trimmed grass was light and relaxed as Luna, Joshua, and Hoshi continued to bask in their small victories. They had comfortably claimed a corner, their winnings neatly arranged in front of them, the warm sunlight gently enveloping them. A staff member, watching their contentment, approached the group and encouraged them, “You should try again.”

Joshua, ever the considerate one, glanced back at the line where several members stood empty-handed and replied, “A lot of them still have nothing.”

Jeonghan, having joined the others, turned to PD Na, his brow furrowed. "Do I have to finish this before I try again?" he asked, holding up his cup of lemons.

PD Na nodded with a grin. “If you finish it, you can try again,” he confirmed, clearly enjoying the challenge.

Luna, who had been casually watching from the grass, perked up. “Can we try again?” she asked one of the nearby staff members, and after a nod of approval, she smiled.

“Then I should try again,” Joshua said, stretching as he stood up. He glanced at Luna and Hoshi, who were still seated comfortably. “Do you want to go for it again?”

Without a word, both Luna and Hoshi stood in unison, a silent agreement passing between them as they walked back to the line, joining the other members still waiting their turn.

[They never said no]

Jeonghan, watching them, caught Hoshi’s eye. “Hoshi,” he called, holding up his cup, “can you help me with one?” He was referring to his lemons, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Sure,” Hoshi gladly accepted, popping one of the sour fruits into his mouth with ease.

[Sharing the penalty]

With Hoshi’s help, Jeonghan managed to finish his punishment. Relieved, he dusted off his hands and quickly moved to join the back of the line, positioning himself behind Luna as they waited for another chance to win a prize. The breeze carried with it a sense of ease, the mood growing softer with the afternoon sun.

Without a word, Jeonghan slowly reached out, his arms wrapping around Luna’s waist from behind, the soft material of his cardigan brushing against her. Instinctively, Luna leaned back into him, her hands rising to gently caress the fluffy sleeves of his sweater. The fabric felt comforting beneath her fingertips as she absentmindedly stroked the texture.

Jeonghan, playfully ducking his head down, nestled his face into the crook of her neck. His breath tickled her skin, causing Luna to smile faintly, her hand lifting to rake gently through his long, flowing hair. Their connection, quiet and intimate, went unnoticed by most — but for the cameras, it was a different story.

To the casual observer, and likely the cameras capturing the moment, it appeared to be nothing more than a sweet back hug shared between friends. Their long hair, tousled by the wind, cascaded around them, providing a veil of privacy. But hidden beneath that curtain of hair, Jeonghan was stealing quiet kisses on the sensitive skin of Luna’s neck, his lips brushing softly against her in a secret exchange only the two were aware of. The world around them seemed to pause, the rest of the members laughing and chatting while they remained in their quiet little world, waiting patiently for their turn again in the game, unaware of the silent intensity brewing between them.

[Next is Mingyu]

As the next round started, it was finally Mingyu’s turn to face the challenge. His face lit up with anticipation as PD Na drew out his mission slip and announced, “It’s a quiz on common sense.” Immediately, a wave of playful mockery erupted from the other members.

“He’s out! Wrong!” Seungkwan teased from behind, causing the others to chuckle.

“He’s out!” S.Coups added in mock seriousness, shaking his head as if Mingyu had already failed before the question had even been asked.

PD Na, recalling a past ‘HYBE’ special where Mingyu had been notoriously unlucky, laughed at the thought. “Yes, that’s right,” Seungkwan confirmed with a mischievous grin.

Mingyu nodded knowingly. “I went around four times in front of twenty to thirty ‘HYBE’ artists.”

[Taking his lemon in advance]

Seeing the mounting pressure, PD Na decided to give him a bit of a break. “Alright, I’ll give you an easy one. It’s a sample question,” he said, his tone lightening. The other members grew quiet as they waited for the question. “Name three symbols of ‘HYBE’.”

Mingyu answered confidently, “BTS, SEVENTEEN…” but before he could finish, PD Na interrupted.

“Wrong!” PD Na declared, cutting through Mingyu’s sentence.

Mingyu, accepting his fate with grace, simply shrugged and moved to the back of the line, his cup of lemons clutched in one hand.

“You should’ve said Bang Sihyuk and Han Sungsu,” Woozi commented with a knowing look, referring to the key figures who were instrumental in the creation of ‘HYBE’.

Jeonghan, now thoroughly confused, leaned over as Mingyu reached the back. “Why is it wrong?” he asked with a slight frown.

Seungkwan, ever the expert in clarifications, stepped in. “He probably meant what ‘HYBE’ stands for,” he said, watching Mingyu’s expression shift from understanding to exasperation.

Jeonghan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is there a meaning?” he asked, shocked at the thought.

Mingyu scratched the back of his head and tried to remember. “It’s like… encounter, exchange, and music or something.”

S.Coups chimed in, sounding uncertain. “The exchange of music or something.”

The group fell silent for a moment, digesting the idea, when Hoshi, curious as ever, turned to Jeonghan. “What are three symbols of ‘HYBE’?”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan replied, his brow furrowed in thought as he shook his head.

Luna, who had been listening quietly from beside Jeonghan, added her own guess, “Isn’t it ‘We believe in music’ or something?”

PD Na, smiling at the members’ collective confusion, finally revealed the correct answer. “It’s connection, expansion, and relationships,” he said with authority.

A wave of realization swept over the group, as they all nodded, murmuring in agreement. “Ahhh…” the members said, drawing out their reaction in unison as they finally understood.

“Keep that in mind,” PD Na advised them with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement at their struggle.

Seungkwan, ever the comedian, turned to Mingyu with a playful grin. “We connected, expanded, and established a relationship,” he quipped, making the others burst into laughter as Mingyu shook his head, trying to hold back a smile.

[It's okay. Producer Na doesn't know the symbol of Full moon]

It was Seungkwan's turn, and he stepped up with the usual dramatic flair. His sharp eyes darted toward the prizes, particularly the $100 Shinsegae gift certificate, still unclaimed by anyone. He pointed at it with conviction, voice brimming with incredulity. “I don’t get why no one’s taking the $100 Shinsegae gift certificate. That’s the real deal.”

PD Na, who was already chuckling at Seungkwan’s enthusiasm, couldn't help but agree. “Yes, that’s the good stuff,” he said, smiling widely at Seungkwan's sensible yet overlooked choice.

Seungkwan, confident in his choice of prize, reached for the next slip of paper and handed it over to PD Na.

“A dud,” Jeonghan teased from the back, his arms still wrapped comfortably around Luna, who giggled as she swayed side to side with him. The relaxed and affectionate sway of their bodies mirrored the playful mood around them.

“A dud!” Dokyeom joined in, laughing as well, causing Seungkwan to shake his head, trying to stave off their playful taunts.

“No way, stop lying,” Seungkwan said, disbelief written across his face. His voice carried a mix of denial and slight nervousness, the anticipation of his result catching up with him.

PD Na smiled and flipped the paper over for Seungkwan to see, announcing, “It’s the sample bar exam question.”

Luna, always quick to hear, burst into laughter, her voice ringing clearly across the group. “It might as well be a dud!” she quipped, her words sending a ripple of laughter through the members.

Seungkwan stared at the paper in disbelief, still processing the difficulty of his challenge. Jeonghan, leaning more into Luna’s back, shook his head sympathetically. “That’s so hard,” he muttered, genuinely surprised.

“I got the easy one,” Hoshi chimed in with a grin, proud of his earlier luck.

“You have good luck, you get easy questions,” Luna nodded in agreement, her eyes still twinkling with amusement at Seungkwan’s misfortune.

“The lemons are ready,” Jun added, his comment aimed at reminding Seungkwan of the inevitable punishment awaiting him.

“Just eat it,” Woozi said dryly, gesturing toward the waiting cup of lemons, clearly enjoying the banter.

Accepting his fate, Seungkwan picked up the lemons and gave in with a sigh. “I’ll go as I eat it,” he said, already popping the first piece into his mouth as he braced himself for the inevitable failure. His exaggerated grimace as the sourness hit made the others laugh even harder.

PD Na, holding back his own laughter, decided to move on with the question. “Try listening,” he instructed, as he began reading aloud from the card. “The purpose of this law is to protect the stability of housing. It applies to the lease of all or part of residential buildings.”

S.Coups, trying to be helpful, added, “The answer is right there,” though his tone carried a note of userstanding.

PD Na continued, “It is also applied when the house on lease is used for a purpose other than residence. What is the name of this law? It’s eight syllables. The answer was in the question.”

Seungkwan, caught off guard by the complexity of the question, groaned. “The national lease… Geez,” he managed to say before trailing off in defeat. He slumped to the back of the line, his groan prompting another round of laughter from the members.

[Walking away]

“Wrong,” PD Na said, his tone light and teasing.

Mingyu, ever curious, asked, “What’s the answer?”

“Housing Lease Protection Act,” PD Na revealed, the answer clearly difficult for everyone.

[Next is Dino]

It was Dino’s turn, and he stepped up, eyes scanning the prize table for a moment before settling on what he wanted. “I’ll go for the razor,” he announced confidently, pointing at the shiny grooming kit on display.

[The perfect prize for him]

His choice earned a hearty laugh from PD Na, clearly amused by the practicality. “A good choice,” PD Na said, still smiling.

“I’m going to accept it,” Dino said with determination as PD Na opened the slip of paper he had chosen.

“It’s Word Relay,” PD Na announced, explaining the task to Dino. To help warm him up, he gave a sample question. “Name five dishes in a Chinese restaurant in five seconds.”

Dino barely hesitated before rattling off his list. “Black bean sauce noodles, spicy seafood noodles, sweet and sour pork, warm noodles, black bean sauce rice.”

“That's how you play,” PD Na said, impressed by how quickly Dino responded.

[That's what he should to do win the prize]

Seungkwan, however, had a nostalgic glint in his eye. “Your grandma used to run a Chinese restaurant,” he said.

Dino smiled, preparing himself for the challenge ahead. “Yeah, I lived in my grandma’s Chinese restaurant for eight years,” he confirmed, the pride in his voice evident.

PD Na moved things forward. “Alright, here we go. Name five celebrities with a four-syllable stage name.”

Dino's expression turned serious as he focused, searching his mind for answers. “S.Coups…” he started, but as he tried to think of the next name, his words trailed off.

From behind him, Jeonghan tried to help, shouting, “Huening Kai,” as a suggestion. Luna quickly followed with another, “Kang Daniel,” But Dino, too locked in his thoughts, didn’t register any of the assistance.

Time ran out, and PD Na’s voice came in swiftly. “Wrong!” he declared with a playful grin as the buzzer sounded. Dino let out a groan of defeat as he realized how close he had come.

“Oh, I’m good at this,” Seungkwan whined from the side, clearly disappointed he hadn’t gotten a shot at the challenge.

PD Na, trying to console Dino, said, “You know a lot of colleagues,” referring to the many names that Dino could have potentially listed. Still accepting his fate, Dino was handed his cup of lemons, and without hesitation, he began eating them, his face scrunching up in reaction to the sourness.

Wonwoo stepped up again, this time still holding the golf club he had won earlier, determined to secure another prize. He turned towards the staff, his calm voice cutting through the playful chatter. “I’ll try the golf ball set for my father.”

Laughter erupted from the other members. Mingyu, standing at the back, groaned in mock irritation. “Why are you muddying the water?”

“Ya! Leave him alone,” Luna chuckled as she scolded him gently, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“You’re such a good son,” Hoshi chimed in.

Mingyu, still grumbling, rolled his eyes. “You’re muddying the water. I bet your father has golf balls already.”

“No, he just started recently,” Wonwoo said, his expression earnest, despite the teasing around him.

“He wants to get it for his dad. Don’t be so mean,” Dino added, scolding Mingyu with a mouthful of lemons, which sent another wave of laughter through the group.

[The youngest points out the brutal fact]

“He’s right,” Minghao whispered to Mingyu, who looked utterly defeated by now.

Jeonghan, always ready to pile on, gave Mingyu a teasing smile. “Don’t be so materialistic.”

Luna giggled as she pointed at Mingyu’s pout, clearly entertained by the teasing.

[His shoulders are getting smaller]

Shaking his head with a small smile, Wonwoo picked up a paper and handed it to PD Na. The director glanced at the paper, grinning. “If you take the golf balls too, you’ll be a real good son.”

“Right! A real good son,” Dokyeom agreed enthusiastically from the back, which sent everyone laughing again.

PD Na cleared his throat and read aloud. “Commercial Relay.”

Seungkwan groaned dramatically. “Oh, that’s what I wanted! How did I get the bar exam? That’s ridiculous! I can’t believe I picked the bar exam.”

“I’m not good at this,” Wonwoo said quietly, already anticipating the difficulty ahead.

“You'll get it. I’m not going easy on you; you picked this yourself,” PD Na warned playfully.

“It’s easy,” Woozi commented dryly, ever the pragmatist.

With that, PD Na gave the line Wonwoo needed to complete. “‘The soup is...’”

“‘Awesome,’” Wonwoo answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“You got it!” PD Na confirmed, his voice filled with surprise and approval as the members collectively gasped and exclaimed in amazement.

[He becomes a good son]

Wonwoo, never one to be overly dramatic, raised his arms in mock victory. “Dad, enjoy golf,” he said, smiling softly.

[He wins the prize and the good son title]

“He’s so lucky,” Minghao added, shaking his head in disbelief.

“He got an easy one,” Luna observed as she fidgeted with her hair, trying to pull a strand off her lips that had stuck to her lip gloss. Jeonghan, ever-attentive, nodded and hummed, carefully reaching over to move the errant strand away for her. Luna smiled in appreciation as they both returned their attention to the game.

“Right? Mine was hard,” Jeonghan pouted slightly, playing along.

PD Na, not missing a beat, pointed toward Mingyu and commented, “Petty people in the back tried to stop him from being a good son.”

Mingyu, playing along, looked around dramatically, pretending not to understand who the comment was directed toward, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

[In the back?]

It was Dokyeom’s turn, and he stepped up confidently, ready to take his shot at winning another prize. The excitement among the group built up again as he chose a paper from the pile and handed it over to PD Na. The atmosphere felt charged with anticipation, everyone curious to see what challenges lay ahead.

PD Na unfolded the slip of paper, glanced at it with a slight smile, and revealed, “Neologism Quiz.”

“He’s good at neologisms,” Wonwoo commented from the side, arms crossed as if he were making a serious observation.

Mingyu, always curious, leaned forward. “Dokyeom, what did you pick for the prize?”

Dokyeom grinned, “The bulk snacks.”

[He carefully chose the 1-star prize]

Mingyu shook his head with a chuckle. “That’s so like you.”

PD Na asked with a teasing smile, “You know what a neologism is, right?”

S.Coups jumped in, throwing out an example with a mischievous smile, “‘OYONW.’”

“What’s that?” Woozi asked, his brow furrowing.

Without missing a beat, Wonwoo replied, “‘On your own, neatly and witty.’”

[Here's the question]

“Here’s your question. What does ‘QCA’ mean?” PD Na asked.

“‘QCA’?” Dokyeom repeated, his expression immediately showing confusion. His eyes darted from one member to another as if hoping someone would throw out a clue.

“1, 2, 3,” PD Na counted down.

Dokyeom stood there, his brow furrowed, but it was clear from his silence that he had no idea.

“Think about it,” PD Na encouraged him with a grin.

PD Na repeated his countdown, “1, 2, 3.”

Dokyeom’s lips quirked as he repeated again, “‘QCA’?” Still stumped. “‘Quick leave,’” he guessed with a laugh, clearly just throwing something out there.

PD Na, amused by the attempt, gestured toward the exit, playfully signaling Dokyeom to leave since his answer was wrong.

[Yes, leave]

The group exploded into laughter as Dokyeom, ever the entertainer, dramatically threw his arms up and strutted off, accepting his defeat with a massive smile.

[Bye, DK] [Going home after work is fun]

“Leave quickly with your lemon,” PD Na said, barely containing his laughter.

Dokyeom turned back to grab his cup of lemons, joining in on the joke, his smile never fading. As he started eating, PD Na revealed the correct answer, “‘Quick change in attitude’.”

A chorus of understanding went through the group as they all went, “Ahhh,” the moment of clarity sinking in.

It was Joshua’s turn now, stepping up confidently to the table as the members around him buzzed with commentary. He had already won one prize earlier but clearly had his eyes set on another.

“I’ll go for the Korean beef combo,” Joshua told PD Na with a calm, collected voice as if picking the juiciest prize out of a grocery store aisle.

[Since I have soju, let me get Korean beef]

“I didn’t know there was Korean beef,” Hoshi said, eyes widening in surprise, causing a ripple of laughter to spread among the members.

PD Na opened the slip Joshua had chosen and smiled. “SEVENTEEN Quiz.”

“That’s harder,” Mingyu immediately commented from his place in the line.

Jeonghan threw in his two cents, “I can never answer anything like this.”

“He’ll never get it. He’s guaranteed to miss it,” Woozi added, his sharp tone laced with a playful smirk, which made Wonwoo chuckle beside him.

Seungkwan, always vocal, let out a soft whine. “That’s exactly what I need!”

PD Na turned to Joshua with a small grin. “You need to answer this.”

Joshua, ever the gentleman, nodded with assurance. “Of course.”

[If he gets it wrong,things will get awkward with SEVENTEEN]

“A lot of CARATs are watching this. I believe SEVENTEEN has a very strong bond,” PD Na remarked, the atmosphere thickening with both anticipation and tension.

“Eyy, PD-nim, stop pressuring Shua!” Luna’s voice suddenly piped up from the back. Her petite frame peeked out from behind the tall figures of the other members in front of her, her head popping out to the side, making PD Na and the other members laugh at her playful intrusion.

[Peekaboo]

“I guess it’s a really hard question,” Vernon chuckled, shaking his head.

“To bring him down all at once,” Mingyu joked with a grin.

“No, I think two-thirds of you can get it. So, if you can’t answer it, you’ll feel so bad,” PD Na teased, sparking more laughter from the members.

Joshua, his smile unwavering, waited patiently as PD Na finally revealed the question.

“DK, who just left quickly, placed 2nd in ‘King of Mask Singer’. What was the name of DK’s mask?” PD Na asked.

“Oh, that’s hard,” Jun gasped, his eyes going wide.

“He wouldn’t know,” Minghao added, shaking his head with a slight laugh.

Luna and Jeonghan spoke up at the same time, confidently saying in unison, “That’s easy.”

[There are people who know]

“‘Baby Goblin’?” Joshua said, squinting slightly as he guessed, unsure of his answer.

“What?” PD Na asked, a little thrown off by the answer.

“‘Goblin’?” Joshua repeated, as if trying to double-check if he was close.

“Oh, he got it!” Dokyeom gasped from the side, surprised but excited by Joshua’s guess.

[Did he really get it?] [The production crew is stirred]

Luna, ever the helpful soul, leaned forward slightly, “There’s more before that, Shua.”

Joshua raised his eyebrows at her, turning slightly in her direction as she nodded encouragingly, urging him to keep going.

“That’s right, there’s more,” Seungkwan added, jumping on board to help.

“There are six more syllables before ‘Baby Goblin’,” PD Na confirmed, heightening the pressure.

“Six syllables?” Joshua asked, now clearly confused, as the rest of the members also expressed their surprise and confusion.

PD Na began the countdown again. “Here we go. 1,2,3.”

Joshua, with no real hope left, blurted out, “‘Fly Black Tea Baby Goblin’. Oh, I don’t know,” throwing his hands up in defeat as he reached for his cup of lemons, resigned to his fate.

“Isn’t it ‘Give Me Gold’?” Seungkwan asked, glancing around as if testing his own memory.

“‘Give Me Gold Baby Goblin’,” PD Na confirmed, revealing the correct answer.

“I still got ‘Baby Goblin,’” Joshua said with a sheepish smile, clearly proud of the small part he did remember.

“You got that part,” Dokyeom agreed, nodding his head in appreciation of Joshua’s effort.

“Did someone tell him? Did he get it on his own?” Seungkwan asked, looking suspiciously between the members.

“He answered it on his own,” Dokyeom confirmed.

“Thank you, Joshua,” Dokyeom said sincerely, grateful that Joshua had at least remembered part of his ‘King of Mask Singer’ persona.

PD Na smiled and turned to the writers. “Remove two lemons. I could count that as an answer.”

[2 lemons are removing for answering half]

“No,” Jeonghan quickly interjected, shaking his hand at PD Na with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Hang on.” Mingyu moved forward with a mischievous smile, peering into Joshua’s cup. “Two more,” he declared, deliberately adding back the two lemons that had just been removed.

[Their friendship is so durable] [SEVENTEEN takes care of each other so much]

PD Na stared at Mingyu in surprise as one of the writers laughed in the background at Mingyu’s antics.

“Right. Have more. It’s still a game. We should play fair,” Jeonghan said, backing up Mingyu with a nod, making Luna scoff out a laugh at their pettiness.

“You guys are something else,” Luna muttered with amusement, only to be poked in the waist by Jeonghan, who was still holding onto her from behind.

“I got ‘Baby Goblin’ to be honest,” Joshua said, trying to plead his case one last time.

“I think that counts, but your colleagues…” PD Na trailed off, gesturing toward the other members who were adamant about their lemon rule.

“Ya, don’t be obnoxious. Hurry up and leave,” Jeonghan said, slowly pushing Joshua toward the chairs, urging him to start eating his lemons as the rest of the members began to agree with the playful shove.

[Starting with the general leader everyone agrees very fast]

Luna, still laughing, couldn’t get over how competitive and petty they were all being.

“I still appreciate that you tried,” Joshua told PD Na before he sat down, defeated but still in good spirits, Luna watched him carefully, her smile softening into something a little more sympathetic.

“Josh,” she called softly, her English accent slipping out naturally as he called out his name.

Joshua turned to her, his eyes meeting hers with curiosity. Luna, still smiling, nodded toward him and reached out her hand, subtly gesturing for him to hand over a lemon. She then held up two fingers, signaling that she wanted two lemons, clearly offering to halve his punishment with him.

Joshua chuckled, grateful for her support, and passed her two lemons with a quiet “Thank you.”

[The lemon-eating bunny healper]

Before Luna could even take a bite, Mingyu reached over, attempting to snatch the lemons back out of her hand. “Let him eat all of it,” he teased, a playful smirk spreading across his face.

Luna, quick on her feet, turned her body, positioning herself so that she was now facing Jeonghan’s chest, who was still holding her. She hid the lemons between them and shot Mingyu a defiant look. “Why? What’s it to you if I help him? I like lemons,” she said confidently, popping one of the lemon slices into her mouth without hesitation.

Mingyu, seeing that he had lost, pouted in defeat while Jeonghan watched the whole scene unfold, clearly amused by Luna’s antics and Mingyu’s failed attempt to intervene.

[The next customer is holding a Dyson]

Hoshi stood at the front, cradling his newly won Dyson box with pride. His grin was wide as he examined the selection of prizes again, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Despite already having a fantastic win under his belt, Hoshi was not yet satisfied.

“I’ll go for something big. The Korean beef combo,” he declared confidently, handing PD Na his chosen slip of paper.

[Taking a big risk again]

As PD Na opened the paper, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Rock, paper, scissors,” he read aloud, barely holding back a chuckle.

[Producer Na isn't good at rock-paper-scissors]

“Your luck is insane today,” Luna remarked from behind him, her voice filled with both admiration and disbelief.

[Hoshi is lucky]

“You have a high chance of winning,” Jeonghan added with a knowing grin.

Hoshi, unable to contain his excitement, started jumping up and down, fists clenched in victory even before the game had started. “Let’s go!” he shouted, pumping himself up.

“I’m not good at rock-paper-scissors,” PD Na confessed with a slight chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck in faux nervousness.

[Mr. Game isn't confident]

PD Na, standing with a hand on his hip, took a deep breath. “Alright… Rock, paper, scissors!”

Hoshi, still buzzing with excitement, threw out his hand with scissors. PD Na, true to his earlier statement, fumbled with his decision and threw paper. A chorus of cheers exploded from SEVENTEEN, the members clapping and shouting with excitement as they rushed toward Hoshi to congratulate him. His scissors had cut right through PD Na’s paper, securing his victory.

“There’s a flow!” Dokyeom announced with pride, as if he’d coached Hoshi through the whole thing.

S.Coups, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, called out, “Let’s take everything.”

“Take only the expensive stuff,” Dino added with a laugh as they all watched Hoshi eagerly walk over to grab the prized box of Korean beef.

As Hoshi held the box up like a trophy, Mingyu’s voice cut through the celebrations. “Isn’t it just one bag? Does he get to take everything?” he asked, a teasing grin creeping onto his face.

Jeonghan, ever the troublemaker, leaned in toward PD Na and whispered conspiratorially, “Let’s say it’s one bag per game.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, not wanting Hoshi to make off with the entire prize. He glanced at Luna, who elbowed him playfully, shaking her head in disagreement. “One bag per game,” Jeonghan repeated, trying to sound serious as he covered his smile.

Mingyu, fully backing Jeonghan’s plan, nodded in agreement. “Come on, Yung Suk. One bag at a time. It’s $50 per bag!” he said, emphasizing the value with a laugh.

PD Na, sensing the tension and the joke behind it, decided to address the group. “SEVENTEEN goes by the majority. Will it be one bag at a time or the whole thing?” He looked around, letting the group decide.

“Isn’t it one bag at a time?” Seungkwan chimed in, siding with Jeonghan and Mingyu.

Jeonghan, always the smooth talker, clapped a hand on Hoshi’s shoulder. “You can only take one bag,” he said with a grin like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

Hoshi, his earlier victory still fresh, blinked in confusion. “I can only take one?”

Seungkwan, already at his side, began inspecting each bag as if making sure there wasn’t a trick. “You can only take one of them,” he confirmed.

[This is SEVENTEEN's teamwork]

S.Coups stepped forward, adding to the chaos. “Yeah, you can only take one of them. Which part do you want?” he asked, gesturing toward the different cuts of meat.

“What is wrong with you guys?” Joshua groaned, laughing as the pettiness of the situation finally dawned on him.

Hoshi, finally catching on to the teasing, held his ground. “It’s clearly a combo,” he argued, unwilling to back down after his win.

“No, you can only take one of them,” S.Coups pointed out again, his expression deadpan as if this was a serious rule.

“You look so petty,” Woozi remarked from the sidelines, shaking his head as the group burst into laughter.

Hoshi, feeling defeated but still in good spirits, sighed dramatically. “Fine, since got the Dyson,” he said, pretending to surrender as he started to return the Korean beef.

Before he could fully commit to giving it up, both Jeonghan and Vernon jumped in, their attitudes flipping in an instant. “No, take them all!” they said almost in unison, surprising Hoshi with their sudden change of heart.

Hoshi froze mid-step, his eyes wide as he turned back to look at them. “What?”

“S.Coups, don’t be so cheap and divide that by parts,” Jeonghan scolded, acting as though the entire argument hadn’t been his idea in the first place.

“That was you!” Joshua pointed out, unable to hold back his laughter.

[That was you 7 seconds ago]

Jeonghan, realizing he had been caught, laughed along with the others. “Take them all,” he insisted as if he was doing Hoshi a favor now.

PD Na, watching the whole scene unfold with amusement, couldn’t help but add, “Jeonghan gets to look nice.”

“Hoshi must be flustered,” Jeongan said.

[Bunny no. 1 is next once again]

Luna stood at the front again, having already won her first prize earlier, feeling the excitement bubbling within her. Her gaze was fixated on the two remaining Lego sets, her eyes drifting over the vibrant box of the Harry Potter Lego. Before she could make her decision, a familiar voice murmured close to her ear, just loud enough for only her to hear.

"Ferrari Lego, please." Jeonghan’s words came as a soft suggestion, and Luna felt his presence right next to her, his voice carrying a weight she couldn’t resist.

Without hesitation, Luna turned to PD Na, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll go for the Ferrari Lego,” she said confidently, knowing Jeonghan wanted it and was more than willing to win it for him.

[Bunny no. 1 cannot resist bunny no. 2]

Jeonghan, satisfied with her choice, tapped her waist gently three times— a silent yet intimate gesture. Luna’s smile grew wider; she knew what those three taps meant, only the two of them did. The gesture was subtle enough not to draw attention, but to her, it spoke volumes.

“You’re a big spender as well,” PD Na remarked as Luna confidently chose a slip of paper, handing it to him with a grin.

[Big spenders have all won]

He opened the paper and read it out loud, “Word relay.”

Luna nodded, focusing. “Okay,” she said, her expression determined as she prepared herself for whatever challenge lay ahead.

“Name five countries that start with the letter ‘M’ in five seconds,” PD Na announced, watching her closely.

Without missing a beat, Luna lifted her hand to count on her fingers. “Mexico, Monaco, Malaysia, Malta, Moldova,” she rattled off quickly, the words rolling effortlessly off her tongue.

[Big spenders tend to win twice in a row]

“You got it!” PD Na confirmed, sounding impressed as the rest of the members fell silent, staring at her in awe.

Jeonghan’s hand shot up for a high-five, which Luna enthusiastically met. “Good job!” he praised, his smile wide and genuine.

“Yay!” Luna exclaimed as she skipped forward, her excitement clear as she grabbed the Ferrari Lego set. She hugged the box to her chest, the satisfaction of her win radiating through her, then returned to pick up the Disney Lego set she had won earlier.

A chorus of amazement filled the room, the members voicing their disbelief at how quickly and smoothly she had won. “Wow!” “How did she know all that?” “Why is she so fast?”

“You see how Yoon Jeonghan is not complaining like earlier,” Hoshi pointed out with a knowing look, gesturing toward Jeonghan, who stood smugly.

[Tiger Hoshi noticed something]

This shifted everyone’s attention to Jeonghan, who simply smirked. “It’s because he knows he’s getting that Lego set later,” Hoshi added, his teasing tone making the group erupt into laughter.

“You’re right!” Mingyu agreed, pointing at Hoshi as if to back up the claim.

“I thought she was gonna pick the Harry Potter Lego,” Dokyeom added, surprised at Luna’s decision.

“Since when were you interested in cars?” Woozi asked Luna with a raised brow, making her laugh even harder.

[They know each other so well]

Before Luna could answer, Mingyu held up his hands, motioning for everyone to listen. “Wait, did you hear what he said to Jiyeonie earlier before she chose?” Mingyu asked, pointing at both Jeonghan and Luna, his mischievous grin betraying the secret.

“What? What?” S.Coups leaned in, eager to hear.

“‘Ferrari Lego, please’,” Mingyu mimicked Jeonghan’s earlier whisper, earning a round of laughter from everyone as they playfully scolded the two.

“Ya! Bae Jiyeon! Yoon Jeonghan!” Seungkwan called out, pretending to scold Luna, though his grin gave him away.

“Those two are really shameless,” S.Coups said.

[Bunnies got caught]

Luna, still laughing, didn’t deny anything, while Jeonghan stood next in line, smirking at the whole situation, his confidence unwavering.

[Not denying]

“Why are you even in line? You won already,” Mingyu teased, playfully pushing Jeonghan toward Luna’s prize knowing it was already his.

Jeonghan gave Mingyu a lazy smirk, clearly amused by the teasing. His long hair fell gracefully over his face as he casually combed it back with one hand, exuding a calm confidence. "What about it?" he retorted, his voice smooth and laid-back, "What's it to you?"

The subtle cockiness in his tone, paired with his effortless gesture, made the rest of the members chuckle, knowing all too well that this was classic Jeonghan — cool, unbothered, and always one step ahead when it came to witty comebacks.

Vernon stood in front of the table, tapping his fingers lightly on its surface as he glanced over at the remaining prizes. "I'll go for the tea set," he announced, his tone casual, as he handed PD Na the slip of paper he had chosen.

"The tea set?" PD Na repeated, gesturing to Minghao. "The8 just checked it."

"I didn't know there was tea," Minghao remarked, looking at the set with slight curiosity.

Vernon smiled. "I was eyeing it from the start."

"This isn’t easy," PD Na said, as he read what was written on the slip.

Vernon raised an eyebrow and leaned forward to glance at the note. "Look at the pictures and arrange them by order," he read aloud, shrugging. "How can that be hard?"

Without a word, PD Na reached behind him and pulled out a stack of papers, careful to keep them hidden from Vernon's view. "You should be able to get it," he said with a grin that hinted at the challenge ahead.

[Genre: Arrange Jeonghan's pictures by order]

[Arrange 4 pictures in order] [They're all from different periods] [Remember he never ages]

Luna, sitting with Jeonghan on the chairs, caught sight of the pictures and immediately started laughing. "That’s hard," she commented, as she and Jeonghan moved closer to the table to get a better look.

“You should be able to get it.” PD Na told Vernon.

The rest of the members began to murmur and exclaim in unison. "Ahhh…" they said, their curiosity piqued as PD Na revealed the challenge.

"Arrange it by order," PD Na instructed, laying out four pictures of Jeonghan from different eras of their career.

Vernon blinked, staring at the photos in slight confusion. "What is this?" he muttered under his breath, clearly thrown off by the task.

Seungkwan let out a whine as he hovered near the table. "I’m so good at this! That’s my field of expertise!" His voice was a mix of genuine annoyance and playful boasting.

Dino, Jun, and Hoshi immediately mimicked Seungkwan’s tone, their exaggerated impressions sending the members into a fit of laughter. Seungkwan joined in the laughter but remained adamant. "I’m good at it!" he repeated.

Vernon began carefully arranging the photos on the table, the rest of the members crowding around him to observe. His brow furrowed as he tried to differentiate between the images.

[He carefully arranges the pictures]

"They’re all the same," Luna chuckled, glancing at Jeonghan, whose face remained consistently youthful in all the pictures.

Even Jeonghan joined in, shaking his head. "Even I can’t do it," he said, a chuckle escaping as he leaned closer to get a better look at the photos. PD Na began counting down the seconds, adding more pressure.

"They all look just the same," S.Coups added, echoing the sentiment as Vernon rearranged them for what felt like the hundredth time.

Jeonghan erupted into laughter. "He has no idea," he teased, making the rest of the group chuckle again.

Vernon glanced at the photos, his confusion evident. "I mean, don’t they all look the same? It looks like you from the other day," he said as he pointed at Jeonghan.

[Just different hair style]

"Focus on the hair color, Vernon," Luna suggested gently from behind, offering a helpful tip as she moved closer.

"Are you done?" PD Na asked, glancing at the clock to remind him that time was running out.

Vernon sighed and turned back to the pictures. "Do I get a chance to change it?" he asked, hoping for a lifeline.

"You have one last chance," PD Na confirmed, watching him intently.

Mingyu, ever the playful instigator, leaned in close to Vernon, whispering like a devil on his shoulder, "Don’t change it. Don’t. There’s a reason why he’s telling you to change it."

Vernon considered his words, a smirk playing on his lips. "Is it a high degree of mind game?" he mused before turning back to the photos. After a moment of contemplation, he made his final decision. "I’ll go with this."

Luna giggled as she moved closer to Jeonghan again, back-hugging him as her chin rested on his shoulder. She peeked over, knowing Vernon had made a mistake. "Aigo…"

"Vernon, should I say you're firm?" PD Na began, smiling as he prepared to reveal the result. "Here’s the answer."

He pointed to the first picture. "Number one is correct."

A brief moment of triumph spread across Vernon’s face until PD Na moved on to the rest of the photos.

"Here’s number two," PD Na said, shifting to the second photo, "here comes number four… and number three is last."

Luna, still perched behind Jeonghan, grinned. "You only got one right."

Vernon sighed, pointing at the first picture. "That’s ‘Don’t Wanna Cry.’"

[They recognize it by his hair] [’Don't Wanna Cry', May 2017]

Mingyu pointed at the second picture, laughing. "That’s ‘CLAP.’"

"Is it?" Jeonghan asked, equally puzzled by his own face.

"Isn’t that ‘THANKS’?" Vernon added, still trying to make sense of it all.

"I had pink hair for ‘CLAP,’" Jeonghan interjected, trying to sort through the visual timeline of his hairstyles.

PD Na chuckled at Jeonghan’s confusion, "I’m sorry, but aren’t these your pictures?"

Jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh along. "I can’t tell either. This is so hard."

"That was so hard," Seungkwan chimed in, shaking his head in disbelief. "It’s hard because you never age," He added as he turned to Jeonghan, teasing him. "You’re always so consistent."

"They were all the same," Vernon grumbled playfully as he accepted his defeat and began to eat his lemons.

Mingyu, still determined to claim victory after his earlier failure, stood with a renewed sense of purpose. His competitive spirit was palpable as he approached PD Na, his brows furrowed with focus. "I'll try for golf balls," he declared, handing over the slip of paper he had chosen. "I’d rather pick the Character Quiz." He pouted, half-joking, trying to mask his nervousness.

[Mingyu returns for golf balls]

PD Na unfolded the paper and glanced at what was written. "SEVENTEEN Quiz," he read out loud, grinning. "This won’t be easy."

Mingyu straightened, ready for the challenge, though the uncertainty was clear in his eyes.

PD Na looked him squarely in the face before delivering the question. "When’s S.Coups' birthday?"

Mingyu’s face lit up with surprise, not expecting such a simple query. "August 8," he answered without hesitation, his voice laced with disbelief at the ease of the question.

"Ya, that’s too easy," Luna piped up from her seat, shaking her head with a laugh.

PD Na chuckled, equally shocked at how simple it had been. "You got it. Good job," he congratulated Mingyu, though his tone revealed how anticlimactic the moment felt.

"We all know each other’s birthdays," Seungkwan chimed in, turning to PD Na with an almost proud expression.

"I know their birthdays," Mingyu said, his chest puffed out in confidence as he absorbed the victory.

PD Na raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do you remember each other's birthdays?" he asked, his voice rising with playful skepticism.

A chorus of "Yes" and "Of course" echoed across the room as the members responded in unison, their voices overlapping with laughter and confidence.

"Really?" PD Na pressed, still amused by how naturally they remembered.

Luna giggled at the disbelief in his tone. "Why is that so shocking?"

"It was so easy. I was like, ‘August 8?’" Mingyu repeated, still bewildered that the question had been such a breeze.

Joshua leaned forward from his chair, nodding thoughtfully. "We get very disappointed if we don’t remember it."

Luna nodded in agreement, her tone softer as she added, "We’ve known each other for years. It’d be weird if we didn’t know."

Mingyu, still basking in his small victory, broke into a playful tune. "The golf balls," he sang lightly as he approached the table to collect his prize, a wide grin stretching across his face.

PD Na shook his head with a laugh, clearly amused by the whole interaction. "I worked with Hyo Jung for twenty years, but I don’t know her birthday," he admitted, pointing at the other producer standing beside him.

The members roared with laughter, the room filling with their amusement. Joshua’s sharp wit cut through the noise as he teasingly remarked, "She’s disappointed."

PD Na shook his head again, this time with a mock sigh. "You don’t know my birthday either," he told Hyo Jung, his nod full of playful accusation.

"She can’t complain," S.Coups chimed in.

It was finally Minghao's turn, and he eyed the prize he had wanted from the start— the delicate tea set that sat neatly on the prize table. With a small, determined smile, he turned to PD Na. "I want the tea set," he said, his voice clear but calm. He handed over the slip of paper with his mission written on it, fully prepared for whatever challenge lay ahead.

"Word Relay," PD Na announced, holding up the paper for Minghao to see. A ripple of laughter went through the group as Minghao tilted his head in confusion.

"How can a word have a relay?" Minghao asked, his innocent question making the other members burst into laughter.

PD Na chuckled, shaking his head lightly. "Here’s what you’re going to do," he began, speaking slowly for clarity. "You know body parts, right?"

"Yes," Minghao nodded.

"Okay. What’s this?" PD Na pointed at his own ear.

"Ear," Minghao answered confidently.

"Right. Now, just like an ear, say five one-syllable body parts," PD Na explained, giving him the mission.

Without missing a beat, Minghao slowly fired off his answers. "Liver, ear, mouth, nose, eye. Wahh!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in victory as he walked back to his place, grinning as the others clapped and cheered for him.

"Good job! Good job, Hao!" Luna shouted, standing from her seat and clapping with a huge smile on her face, as though she were a proud parent.

But Seungkwan, ever the perfectionist, raised an eyebrow. "Does the liver count?" he asked, glancing around.

"Of course it does," Luna quickly answered.

"Of course. It’s still in your body," Minghao added matter-of-factly, his innocent tone causing more laughter to erupt among the group.

"It counts. It’s a body part," PD Na confirmed with a grin, amused by the dynamic.

Minghao turned to Seungkwan with a playful, slightly confused look. "Isn’t a liver part of your body? You don’t know how to play this," he said, his genuine innocence adding to his adorable charm.

"That wasn’t so easy," PD Na acknowledged, giving Minghao a nod of approval.

But Minghao, beaming with pride, hugged his newly won tea set close to his chest. "It works if you try," he said, giggling softly at his own success.

[Happy]

"You did it," PD Na said, smiling at the satisfaction on Minghao’s face.

"Thank you," Minghao replied, still holding onto his prize.

"You love tea. This is great," Dino clapped for him, happy to see Minghao with a prize that fit him so perfectly.

Minghao chuckled as he moved back into line, admiring his prize closely. "This is really pretty," he said softly, almost to himself.

"Yes, it’s pretty," Mingyu agreed, leaning over to get a closer look at the tea set.

Meanwhile, Luna, who had returned to her seat next to Jeonghan, covered her mouth with her hand, giggling at the scene in front of her. She glanced at Jeonghan, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"Why?" Jeonghan asked, smiling warmly at her.

"Minghao is so cute," Luna pouted dramatically, placing both hands over her chest as though it pained her how adorable Minghao was. Her exaggerated reaction made Jeonghan chuckle softly at her.

It was Dino’s turn once more, and determination flashed in his eyes. He had his sights set on one thing: the razor set.

"I'll try for razors again," Dino said confidently as he stepped forward.

[The regular customer who's only after the razors]

From the back of the line, Wonwoo couldn’t help but giggle. "Dino wants the razor set," he teased.

"I've got to get it," Dino muttered to himself, clenching his fists in focus as he handed the slip of paper he’d chosen over to PD Na.

[I'll get it this time]

PD Na unfolded the paper, and before he could even fold it back, Mingyu, standing in the middle of the line, caught sight of what was written. He burst into laughter, clapping his hands.

"But it’s so windy!" Mingyu exclaimed, his voice betraying the mischief in his mind.

"Did you see it, Mingyu?" PD Na asked, amused by Mingyu’s sudden outburst.

Mingyu laughed harder, doubling over and falling onto the ground in exaggerated glee. "You can read others’ misfortune very fast," PD Na commented, shaking his head while the rest of the group looked on in confusion.

"What was it?" Dino asked, his brow furrowed, feeling a sense of impending doom.

"This is going to be so much fun!" Mingyu said, clapping excitedly.

Finally, PD Na revealed the mission, "Light the match at once."

[Oh, poor Dino]

The group erupted into laughter. With how windy it was— hair flying everywhere, whether long or short— it was near impossible.

"Oh no," Luna chuckled, shaking her head sympathetically at Dino.

"That’s impossible," Dokyeom chimed in.

"Light the match in five seconds upon receiving it," PD Na repeated, sending the group into further hysterics.

Dino, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie, prepared for the challenge. "Wait," he said, trying to mentally brace himself.

"And after lighting it, the match has to stay lit for 3 seconds," PD Na added, causing another burst of laughter. PD Na placed a box of matches in front of Dino, his face barely holding back a smile. "Go," he instructed.

Quickly, Dino grabbed the box of matches, his fingers fumbling slightly as adrenaline coursed through him. The rest of the members abandoned their seats and positions in the line, crowding around Dino as if this were a grand spectacle. PD Na began the countdown as everyone tried to offer their help.

"Block the wind with your body," Mingyu suggested, leaning in.

"Like that, hunch over like that," Luna said from the side, her voice filled with encouragement as Dino bent over, shielding his hands from the relentless wind.

"Go easy. No need to use your strength," Jeonghan advised, his calm voice contrasting with the chaos around him.

[With other members' help and advice]

Dino struck the match, his hands working quickly— but as soon as it lit, the flame flickered and died almost instantly.

[Snap] [Gone]

The group exploded into laughter. "Why did you die, buddy?" Dino whined dramatically to the match, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"It went off right away!" Dokyeom said, shaking his head in sympathy. "That’s horrible."

[It died] [In 0.01 seconds]

PD Na chuckled at Dino's failed attempt, "You didn’t ask for something big. All you wanted was razors."

"How many lemons has he eaten now?" S.Coups asked, pointing at Dino with a grin, knowing that Dino had already consumed six sour lemons in his quest for the razors.

[6 lemons while trying to get razors]

"Dino the lemon," Hoshi teased, flashing a mischievous smile.

"Dino the lemon," Joshua echoed, chuckling along with the rest of the group, as Dino sat there eating his lemons, half-amused, half-frustrated at his misfortune.

It was Jun’s turn once again, his eyes gleamed with determination. "I want the Harry Potter Lego," he declared confidently, handing the paper to PD Na.

[He chose the last Lego]

PD Na opened the slip of paper and squinted slightly as he read the challenge aloud. "This will be tough... Make me laugh in ten seconds," he said, trying to hold back a smile. The group erupted in laughter once more.

"Think out of the box, Jun!" Luna called out encouragingly, while Jeonghan gently dragged her by the wrist as they moved to the back of the line together, trying their luck once more.

"Who knows? You might be able to do it," Woozi said, adding his support, although his smirk suggested he wasn’t sure if Jun could pull it off.

PD Na slowly began counting down from ten. "Ten... nine..."

[The countdown begins]

Jun blinked, suddenly realizing the countdown had started. "Has it started?" he asked, eyes widening in a mild panic.

[He doesn't know what to do]

"Seven... six..."

Jun thought for a moment, staring at PD Na, his mind racing. Desperation crept in, and as the seconds ticked away, he quickly scrunched up his face into the goofiest expression he could think of.

[He first tries to frown his face] [Ta-da]

However, PD Na remained stone-faced, not even a hint of a smile crossing his features.

[He's too handsome to be funny]

"Five... four..." The tension built as Jun began to sweat.

"Hurry!" Minghao shouted from the back, egging Jun on.

With only three seconds left, Jun’s mind went blank, but then, an idea struck him. "What about tickling?" he said out loud. Before anyone could stop him, Jun lunged forward and started tickling PD Na’s sides.

[As soon as he started tickling, Producer Na laughed]

The suddenness of it caught PD Na completely off guard. His composure crumbled instantly as laughter burst from him, his face twisting in both amusement and shock. He hadn't expected this tactic at all. PD Na laughed, but his surprised smile didn’t fade. He stared at Jun, still reeling from the unexpected assault of tickles.

Jun celebrated wildly, jumping up and down as the members cheered him on.

"You’re a genius!" Dokyeom clapped Jun on the back, clearly impressed.

[In a way that no one expected]

"I’ve never thought about that!" PD Na said, still recovering. He shook his head in disbelief. "But you did it," he added, a begrudging smile on his face.

With a victorious grin, Jun bounded toward the prize table and grabbed the last Harry Potter Lego set, a bounce in his step as if he’d just conquered the world.

"I would’ve never thought about tickling," Joshua said, shaking his head in amusement as he watched Jun cradle the box like a trophy.

It was S.Coups' turn next, and with a calm, confident stride, he handed the paper he had chosen over to PD Na.

“S.Coups, born on August 8,” PD Na teased, playfully emphasizing the detail, causing a few chuckles among the members.

S.Coups pointed directly at the gift certificate, eyeing it like a prized possession. “I want the gift certificate,” he said decisively.

From the sidelines, Seungkwan let out a mock whine, his voice rising comically. “That’s mine!” Seungkwan exclaimed, earning amused glances from the other members.

PD Na mirrored Seungkwan’s whining tone, further adding to the playful tension in the room. “What’s going on?” PD Na asked dramatically before focusing back on the paper. He laughed as he noticed yet another easy mission. “Okay, SEVENTEEN Quiz,” he announced.

“The social media manager,” Wonwoo teased, referencing S.Coups’ well-known position as the unofficial information hub of the group.

“Most informative,” Dokyeom added with a knowing smirk, poking fun at the ease of the quiz missions.

PD Na glanced at the remaining papers in the bowl. “So many people have picked SEVENTEEN Quiz. There are only easy ones left now.” He paused for effect before reading the question aloud. “How do you spell PLEDIS?”

S.Coups didn’t hesitate for even a second. “P, L, E, D, I, S,” he answered with a slight grin as if the question was too simple for his level.

“You got it,” PD Na confirmed with a slight nod of acknowledgment.

Without missing a beat, S.Coups moved away from the line, making a beeline for the gift certificate. His fellow members couldn’t help but react.

“That’s too easy,” Luna commented with a soft laugh, shaking her head.

“That’s so easy,” Vernon echoed, equally amused by the simplicity of the question.

It was Dokyeom’s turn once again, and he stepped forward confidently to grab a paper from the bucket. As he did so, he tried to spell PLEDIS aloud, “P, L, E, I, D, S,” nodding to himself, completely unaware of his mistake.

PD Na, noticing the error, quickly grabbed the bucket out of Dokyeom’s reach, chuckling, “What did you just say?”

Dokyeom blinked in surprise and then burst into laughter, realizing his mistake. “Can I just pick one?” he asked, still giggling at his blunder.

[He must be from a different agency]

“People get confused sometimes!” Dokyeom defended, still laughing as he finally pulled a paper from the bucket and handed it to PD Na. “I’ll try for the bulk snack,” he said with a hopeful grin.

PD Na opened the paper, reading the mission aloud, “Object Quiz.” He turned around and reached for a picture, revealing it to Dokyeom, who stared at it, completely baffled. The image was of some random object, but Dokyeom looked at it with wide eyes, clearly at a loss for words.

“Beating?” Dokyeom said, blurting out nonsense in an attempt to answer, but PD Na shook his head, “Wrong.”

Dokyeom let out a defeated sigh and grabbed his cup of lemons, moving back to the seating area to eat as the members chuckled at his answer.

“What even is that?” S.Coups asked, puzzled, as Dokyeom sat down.

[The good son appears again]

Next in line was Wonwoo, who still clutched the golf club and golf balls he had won earlier. He eyed the sack of dog food sitting on the prize table, clearly planning to win it for his father. “My dad has a dog,” he commented casually, a determined glint in his eye.

“Is that your theme? Being a good son?” PD Na teased as Wonwoo handed him the paper he had picked.

[Golf club for his father] [Golf balls for his father]

PD Na read the next quiz question aloud, “What’s Newton’s full name?”

Wonwoo froze, completely at a loss for the answer. The silence hung in the air as PD Na started his countdown, but Wonwoo didn’t say a word.

“Jimmy Newton,” Dokyeom muttered from his seat, trying to be helpful but only making things worse, as S.Coups and Woozi doubled over in laughter.

“Isaac Newton,” Luna and Vernon said in unison from the back, their voices overlapping as they both got the answer right.

“You two got it,” PD Na acknowledged with a nod, though it wasn’t their question.

Wonwoo shrugged as he left the line, missing out on the dog food, but his poker face never faltered, earning a few more chuckles from the group as the game continued.

[The real rich appears] [Korean beef combo] [Dyson]

Hoshi stepped forward once again, a box of Dyson appliances in one hand and a Korean beef set tucked under his arm, looking rather content with his winnings so far. PD Na, noticing Hoshi's abundance of prizes, pointed at him with a grin and then at Wonwoo, who was standing to the side with only his golf club and golf balls. "I’m sorry, but he’s not that rich,” PD Na said, gesturing to Wonwoo, making everyone burst into laughter.

Hoshi nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he pulled another paper from the bucket and handed it to PD Na.

PD Na opened it and read aloud, “Old abbreviation quiz.”

“Old abbreviations?” Vernon repeated, his brow furrowing as he glanced at Hoshi, who looked equally confused.

“Yes,” PD Na warned as he consulted his cue cards. “What does ‘WWKSB’ mean?”

Hoshi blinked, completely lost.

"What?" Luna murmured from her place in the middle of the line, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"’Why don't we...?’" Hoshi started, but he trailed off, unable to think of the rest of the phrase. He looked desperate for inspiration, but before he could come up with anything, PD Na’s countdown ended.

"Wrong!" PD Na declared, shaking his head.

"Isn’t it ‘Why don’t we kiss since we’re bored’?” S.Coups chimed in casually, earning shocked looks from a few members.

“Really?” Hoshi turned to S.Coups, disbelief written all over his face.

PD Na laughed and nodded. “Yes— ‘Why don’t we kiss since we’re bored?’”

Luna stood in line, her arms crossed over her chest, her face calm and unreadable as she processed the answer. But beside her, Jeonghan turned to her the instant PD Na gave the answer, his eyes glinting with mischief and knowing. His gaze seemed to imply a teasing suggestion as if he were echoing what the answer had just revealed.

Luna could feel the weight of Jeonghan’s stare on her face, the amusement radiating off him, but she kept her face forward, refusing to give him the reaction he was clearly baiting for— especially with cameras rolling. Yet, the intensity of his stare was relentless, and despite her composure, she knew he wouldn’t let up.

After a few more moments, still feeling the intensity of his gaze and the smirk undoubtedly playing on his lips, Luna subtly shifted her eyes upward, locking her gaze with his without turning her head. She raised her eyebrow ever so slightly, silently challenging him. Jeonghan’s lazy smirk only widened, his long black hair framing his face as he stared at her, utterly entertained. His tongue flicked over his lips briefly, making her grin at his persistence before she turned her attention back in front, letting the moment dissolve without a word exchanged between them.

“‘WWKSB?’” Vernon echoed, nodding as if learning something entirely new about the past.

“I guess people were more open-minded back in the day,” Hoshi deadpanned, his expression comically serious. PD Na and the rest of the crew couldn’t contain their laughter.

Hoshi, unbothered, moved away from the line with a resigned shrug, grabbing his cup of lemons as he prepared to take a seat. “Why would you kiss when you’re bored?”

Seungkwan, who had been quietly processing the absurdity of it all, mimicked the abbreviation. “WWKSB?” he said in a teasing tone, nudging Dino.

“Why don’t you stop?” Dino responded with the same tone, and the two dissolved into laughter.

Vernon stepped up for his third attempt, visibly more determined but equally unsure, having yet to claim any prizes so far. His eyes darted to the bucket of papers, scanning for any that could give him an advantage, but luck was hard to read.

[3rd visit] [Vernon still hasn't won anything yet]

He drew a slip and handed it to PD Na, who glanced at it and read aloud, “Proverb Relay.”

At that, Vernon let out a visible groan and physically cringed. “Proverbs... ah,” he mumbled, already anticipating his failure.

“That’s what I’m good at,” Wonwoo chimed in confidently from his seat at the side.

“You have to answer immediately,” PD Na instructed, putting Vernon on the spot with a serious tone, giving him no time to overthink. “‘One man sows—?’”

Vernon’s brows furrowed in concentration, but then, in a total shot in the dark, he answered, “‘The fox reaps’?”

“Wrong,” PD Na declared with a smirk, much to the amusement of the others.

“What is it?” Vernon asked, confused but chuckling at his wild guess.

“It’s ‘One man sows, another man reaps,’” PD Na clarified.

Next in line was Mingyu, stepping forward for another chance at redemption. Mingyu grabbed his paper and, with a quick glance at PD Na, handed it over. Woozi, seeing Mingyu’s confident stance, teased from the back, “Mingyu won’t get it.”

Mingyu turned slightly, not one to let the joke go unnoticed. “Why would you say that? I still got one prize!” he defended as he showed off his golf balls.

Unbothered, PD Na read the paper. “It’s a Logo Quiz.”

“That’s easy,” Minghao called out from behind, encouraging Mingyu with his usual calm tone.

PD Na pulled out a picture, held it up in front of Mingyu, and immediately started counting down. “One, two, three—?”

Without hesitating, Mingyu blurted, “Simyang!”

“That’s Korea Music Copyright Association,” Woozi said, his sharp eyes always catching such details.

“That’s right— Korea Music Copyright Association,” PD Na confirmed, a satisfied nod directed at Woozi.

“I got it,” Woozi said, proud of his keen observation

[It was so easy for the producer]

“Woozi is the only one who got it right,” PD Na added for emphasis, as the rest of the group chuckled.

“He’s basically a permanent employee,” S.Coups added, pointing at Woozi like he’d already earned a spot in the association’s hierarchy.

“I even have their app,” Woozi boasted, laughing as PD Na handed him the photo again, testing him.

“Woozi, what’s this?” PD Na asked, showing the picture once more.

“Korea Music Copyright Association,” Woozi replied effortlessly, proving his point again.

[Woozi has the copyright for 147 songs]

“This is crazy... It’s so embarrassing,” Mingyu muttered as he moved to grab his cup of lemons.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” PD Na said with a comforting grin. “Just have some lemons.”

“You’re right,” Mingyu conceded, playfully surrendering as he left the line, still shaking his head in disbelief.

Minghao stepped up for his next attempt, eyes glancing at the bucket of papers before settling on one. He plucked it out with ease and handed it to PD Na, his expression calm and collected as always. "I want the slippers," he stated, pointing at the prize he had his sights set on.

Jeonghan, standing to the side, chimed in, “You might have a lot of guests at home,” teasing Minghao in his usual soft-spoken but playful tone.

PD Na opened the slip and read aloud, “It’s a Korean movie title.”

Jun, who stood nearby, gave his teammate a reassuring nod. “That could be easy. You’ve watched a lot of movies,” he said, trying to encourage Minghao, though everyone knew this wasn’t going to be as simple as it seemed.

PD Na raised his eyebrows at Minghao and announced, “You have five seconds.”

Minghao’s expression shifted into one of mild disbelief. “Five seconds? That’s too short,” he said, then added with a clever smirk, “I’m The8. Give me eight seconds.”

The group burst into laughter at his quick-witted response. “That makes sense,” Luna quipped, joining in on the joke.

PD Na chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re the one who said eye, nose, mouth, and liver earlier. I’ll give you seven seconds.”

With that, PD Na showed the card with the initials ‘DTL’ on it. “It’s a Korean movie,” PD Na said, starting to count down.

Minghao’s brow furrowed as he stared at the letters on the card, trying to piece together the title. His focus was intense, but the seconds ticked away too quickly. 

“That’s so easy!” Seungkwan whined from the back, watching with eager anticipation.

“What is it?” Jeonghan and Luna muttered to each other, both squinting at the letters, equally stumped.

But before Minghao could answer his time ran out, PD Na announced, “Wrong!”

Immediately, Minghao turned to Seungkwan, pretending to be offended. “I got it wrong because of you!” he playfully scolded, causing a ripple of laughter to echo through the group.

Seungkwan pouted, “You couldn’t get it anyway. It’s ‘Decision to Leave’.”

The members collectively groaned in realization, a chorus of “Ahhh” filling the air as they pieced it together.

As the challenge drew closer to its end, PD Na glanced at the remaining members still standing in line and announced, "I'll be closing soon. Only those who haven't won anything should line up."

With that, Luna and the other members who had already won prizes took their seats off to the side. Some settled on chairs while others sat cross-legged on the ground, all watching the final contestants. Jeonghan, Vernon, Seungkwan, and Dino were the last ones standing in line.

[Next customer is Jeonghan]

[Rummage] [What's he doing?]

Jeonghan, a known game cheater from their ‘Going Seventeen’ antics, was already up to his usual tricks. He rummaged through the remaining papers, eyes squinting as he tried to read the questions through the faint marker lines that had bled through the back of the paper.

"You can’t go through the questions," one of the writers said, eyeing Jeonghan suspiciously.

Jeonghan simply chuckled, casually continuing his sneaky mission. PD Na, watching from a distance, stared at Jeonghan in confusion. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go through them,” PD Na repeated, a bit more firmly this time.

Feigning innocence, Jeonghan smiled and chose his prize. “I’ll go for the glove— I’ll mix them,” he said, before pretending to mix the papers up. However, his fingers were already gripping onto one specific paper, clearly hoping for an easier question.

“I’m sorry, but you held onto it when you shook them up,” PD Na pointed out, calling Jeonghan out on his cheeky tactics. The observation earned PD Na a laugh from Jeonghan, who finally picked a different paper and handed it over.

“It’s Four-character Idiom Relay,” PD Na announced, causing a wave of groans and laughter from the group as Jeonghan’s face fell into a look of mock defeat.

“You can do it,” Luna encouraged, clapping lightly from the side, followed by several other voices.

“We should make a new idiom for today,” Mingyu joked from the sidelines.

"You got this," Jun said, backing Jeonghan with playful confidence.

With a sigh, Jeonghan straightened up. “No pain, no gain,” he declared confidently.

PD Na blinked, confused. “I haven’t started yet,” he said, which sent the group into a fit of laughter. 

“You have to say it right away,” PD Na reminded him before reading the first part of the idiom. “Ome?”

“Ga-3,” Jeonghan answered without hesitation, a cheeky grin on his face.

[What?]

The room erupted into loud laughter as PD Na announced, “Wrong!”

[Omega-3: fatty acid needed for normal growth and health]

"It’s omebulmang," Seungkwan chimed in through his own laughter, shaking his head at Jeonghan’s hilariously absurd answer.

Luna toppled over, leaning on Dokyeom as she laughed uncontrollably. "That was amazing," she wheezed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from laughing so hard.

“That was a good one,” Joshua agreed, nodding approvingly at Jeonghan’s absurd creativity.

[Nice wrong answer]

From the side, Dokyeom couldn’t help but add, “From now on, it’s Omega-3.”

“I’m jealous that he was funny,” Seungkwan pouted, still giggling at the chaos.

“Omega-3 was brilliant,” Dokyeom repeated, shaking his head in amusement as Jeonghan, grinning, stepped back to rejoin the group after his bold attempt.

It was Dino's turn, and the determined maknae stepped up confidently. "I'll take the razors again," he said, handing PD Na the paper he had chosen. 

PD Na glanced at the paper, then looked up with a sly smile. "It's Proverb Relay."

Instantly, the members reacted. “He’s out,” S.Coups said, shaking his head with a knowing smile. 

“Aigo, I’ll just buy you razors, Dino-ah,” Luna chuckled, amused at Dino’s previous failed attempts. 

“I’m good at it,” Dino told her, his face filled with mock determination.

[No, you're not]

"Ah, really?" Luna asked, her concerned tone causing S.Coups to laugh and point at her for having such little faith in Dino. "Alright"

“Make it funny, Dino,” Mingyu teased, leaning back with a smirk. 

“He’s guaranteed to be out,” Dokyeom chimed in, causing Dino to sigh dramatically.

“I told you. Everyone except for noona makes me negative and hopeless,” Dino said, feigning offense, causing laughter to ripple through the group.

[Proving that it's true]

“In the back, he said ‘One man sows, and walls have ears,’” Wonwoo joked, causing PD Na to clap and laugh at Dino’s famously incorrect previous answers.

“You should at least be funny,” Joshua encouraged, chuckling at Dino’s struggle.

“You’re a funny kid,” Mingyu added, his teasing tone light-hearted.

“If you play seriously, you’ll be funny,” Woozi assured him.

[No one expects him to get it]

“I hope you get it,” Seungkwan said encouragingly, standing behind Dino.

“I will get it,” Dino said firmly, taking a deep breath. He looked determined, ready to prove them all wrong.

“Here we go,” PD Na said, holding up the paper. He paused for dramatic effect before reading the first part of the proverb. “‘Bamboo basket...’”

Without missing a beat, Dino confidently responded, “‘Is a shame.’”

PD Na blinked before declaring, “Wrong!”

The group burst into laughter. Dino clutched his sides, joining the members as they doubled over at his very wrong, but hilarious answer.

“‘It can’t carry water,’” S.Coups said between laughs, finally giving the correct answer.

“It is a shame, though,” Woozi said, still chuckling, as PD Na handed Dino his cup of lemons once again.

[It's also a shame] [Having 9 lemons for the razor]

Dino sighed dramatically as he received the lemons, but he couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his answer. 

It was Seungkwan’s turn next. He approached the table with determined strides, picking up a paper and handing it over to PD Na. “I’ll go for the bulk snack,” he said confidently.

PD Na opened the paper, and a smirk crossed his face as he announced, “Seungkwan, it’s the Common Sense Quiz.”

Seungkwan’s face lit up with joy, his excitement palpable. 

“You think you’re smart, huh?” Mingyu teased from the side.

“You look smart, but you’re not smart,” Dokyeom added with a playful grin.

Joshua joined in, asking innocently, “Does he look smart?”

“Do you have no intention to root for me?” Seungkwan asked, his voice dripping with mock hurt. The room filled with laughter as the members teased him further.

“Wooo! Boo Seungkwan!” Luna cheered softly from the side, breaking the silence. The sweetness of her voice made everyone laugh even harder.

“Thanks, noona,” Seungkwan said, grateful for at least one supporter.

“Seungkwan, let’s start,” PD Na said, pulling everyone back into focus. “Here’s the question: We have names for like-minded people. What do you call people who want to be financially independent so that they can retire soon?”

As PD Na started counting down, Seungkwan’s face scrunched up in thought. “Elf,” Jeonghan whispered mischievously to him.

“Hot,” Joshua murmured under his breath, causing even more distraction.

Seungkwan, getting flustered, shouted, “Get me something hot!” as if it would save him from the pressure. He glanced around in desperation before realizinghe wasn't making any sense.

“Wrong,” PD Na said, shaking his head.

Seungkwan whined, “What’s the answer?”

“It’s fire,” PD Na explained.

"Fire? He's right, then," Luna said, playfully backing up Seungkwan.

"Right! You got it. It’s fire!" S.Coups chimed in, causing the whole group to laugh at the funny coincidence between Seungkwan’s ‘hot’ and the actual answer.

[Fire= hot]

“It is hot trotter,” Wonwoo added, making everyone burst into laughter again as they exclaimed at the revelation.

“Hot!” Seungkwan yelled, turning to PD Na in one last attempt to argue his case, shocking the PD enough that he stood up from his seat.

[Producer Na is shocked]

“We love Korean. Hot!” Seungkwan continued dramatically, trying to convince PD Na with his antics.

“That just gave me goosebumps,” PD Na said, his voice full of amusement.

“Is it hot?” Seungkwan asked, looking to the rest of the members who eagerly backed Seungkwan up. Everyone began chiming in at once, urging PD Na to accept Seungkwan’s creative answer.

[Will it count as an answer?] [In times like this, all 14 people team up]

“But ‘fire’ here means like firing someone,” PD Na tried to explain, still bewildered by how the situation had spiraled into chaos.

“It’s the same spelling,” Mingyu pointed out, looking to Luna for confirmation who nodded.

Finally, PD Na gave in with a laugh. “You got it,” he said, waving his hand.

[Approved] [He won the bulk snack]

Seungkwan let out an excited shout of victory, rushing to grab the massive bags of bulk snacks. He held them up triumphantly, his face lit up with satisfaction. “Thank you. This will go perfectly with alcohol,” Seungkwan said, clutching his prize with pride.

[Jeonghan is the last customer of the day]

As Jeonghan stepped forward for his final turn, the last customer left to close out the segment, he carefully picked a paper and handed it over to PD Na with a smirk, fully aware that this was his last chance to win something for himself. The atmosphere was light, with the members watching in anticipation of what trick or witty response Jeonghan might pull.

PD Na opened the folded slip of paper, scanned it briefly, and then raised his voice with a hint of amusement, “It’s a dud.”

[Neat finish]

The members burst into laughter, clapping in delight at the anticlimactic ending, while Jeonghan raised his hands in mock celebration, chuckling along with them. “Of course, it started and ended with a dud,” Luna quipped, smiling warmly at Jeonghan’s playful shrug. 

['Super' Store ends]

The segment ended with applause from everyone, and the group clapped, bowing to the staff and offering their thanks for the fun experience. They gathered their prizes, preparing to head back to the green room for a well-deserved break before the next segment began. 

[The customers seem happy]

As they moved around, PD Na approached Jeonghan with a small, familiar item in hand— a baseball that had been one of the prizes. "This is for you," PD Na said, handing over the ball as Jeonghan smiled, tucking it under his arm.

[It may be closed, but there are prizes for people who were funny]

Around them, the members had started spreading out— some still lingering in the open field, tearing into Seungkwan’s bulk snack bags and laughing, while others drifted toward the break area. 

[It’s closed. Please leave.]

[Post-credits scene]

[Here's what happened during the break]

Jeonghan and Luna were the first to arrive in the green room, their footsteps quiet as they entered the familiar space. The air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the field outside.

[Jeonghan and Luna are the first people here to take a rest]

Without saying a word, Jeonghan lowered himself to the floor and sat with his legs out elongated in front of him, his back resting against the wall. Luna, without hesitation, settled down beside him, placing her head on his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Both pulled out their phones, enjoying the peaceful silence that enveloped them. The room, for a moment, was theirs alone.

[Low battery mode]

“You two got here so fast,” Wonwoo’s voice broke the quiet as he strolled in a few minutes later, raising an eyebrow at their relaxed posture. Luna smiled up from Jeonghan’s lap, but neither moved, the easy comfort between them tangible.

Slowly, the rest of the members began trickling in. Mingyu, entering with his usual boundless energy, spotted Luna’s legs stretched out comfortably on the floor. Without warning, he scooped up her legs in one fluid motion, sat down beside her, and gently placed her legs back down on his lap. Luna chuckled but didn’t resist, knowing that this was typical of Mingyu.

“Why is there chroma key?” Mingyu asked, glancing around at the green walls that framed the room.

“I guess we’re doing something here later,” Dokyeom chimed in, scanning the room with a curious look.

“There are cameras everywhere,” S.Coups observed, noticing the subtle placements of hidden cameras tucked into various corners.

“You’re right,” Wonwoo said with a nod. “The unseen hide-and-seek. It’s gotta be something like that.”

[This is just Producer Na's habit]

Luna closed her phone and grinned. “Doesn’t this remind you guys of something?” The members glanced at her, waiting for the punchline. Her grin widened. “Melona Prison.”

The room erupted into laughter. The memory of their trainee days hit everyone at once— Melona Prison, the room where they spent countless hours training, named for the bright green walls and the never-ending surveillance cameras. It was their prison, their home, and the source of both fond and difficult memories.

“Ah, it really does feel like that place,” Mingyu agreed, chuckling as he absentmindedly ran his fingers on Luna’s legs.

Seungkwan, ever the playful one, suddenly tossed a blanket over Jeonghan, Luna, and Mingyu, covering them in a soft cocoon.

“Seungkwan, why are you suddenly being so nice and got us a blanket?” Jeonghan asked, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.

S.Coups, ever the leader with a teasing smile, cut in, “It’s because there are cameras.”

Seungkwan huffed. “What are you talking about? I’m always nice.”

The members settled into casual conversation, the easy flow of banter filling the room. Jeonghan, leaning back lazily, turned to the group and mused, “Not eating is the best way to prevent aging.”

“Really?” Dokyeom asked, his tone genuinely curious.

Jeonghan nodded sagely. “Yes.”

Luna looked up at him from his lap, her brow furrowing. “What nonsense is that?” she asked, half-joking, but her concern for him was clear in her voice.

With a soft sigh, Luna sat up and leaned her back against the wall, positioning herself between Jeonghan and Mingyu. The blanket remained draped over her, warm and cozy, as two pairs of hands— Jeonghan’s and Mingyu’s— rested lightly on her thigh, their touch gentle and absentminded.

[When they're talking about detoxing, the snack arrives]

A staff member entered, placing a bowl of snacks on the table next to them. Hoshi eyed the bowl, perking up. “Snack?”

Jeonghan, however, shook his head and gestured toward the snacks. “That’s all toxic.”

Luna shot him a sharp glare, not liking how casually he was talking about not eating. Her silent disapproval was palpable, and Jeonghan, noticing her expression, immediately leaned over, pressing his face against her shoulder in a small gesture of apology. He placed a quick, soft kiss on her shoulder as if that would make her relent. 

Just then, another staff member entered the room, balancing a tray of iced Americanos. As she moved toward the table, her grip faltered, and the tray slipped. The cups tumbled over, and coffee spilled across the floor, eliciting gasps of shock from the members. They all stood up in an instant, rushing over to help her.

“Are you okay?” Luna asked, concern etched on her face as she crouched down to assist.

Jeonghan, however, had other thoughts. “Is this a prank?” he asked, his eyes scanning the room suspiciously.

“Ya!” Luna scolded him, elbowing him lightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you hurt?” she asked again, her attention back on the staff member.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan finally asked.

“Is this a test? To see if we’ll help?” Dokyeom chimed in, a curious look on his face.

[They watched too much YouTube]

“Are you okay?” Hoshi asked the staff as he helped clean the floor, throwing away the coffee cups. 

The members all pitched in, cleaning up the mess without a second thought. Dokyeom moved the tray out of the room, shaking his head as he glanced back at Jeonghan, chuckling. “You think this is a prank? You’re unbelievable.”

Wonwoo chuckled softly, finding the whole situation amusing. “We all thought it was a prank right away.”

“It’s because there are cameras in the room,” Luna pointed out, gathering the blankets on the floor.

“Jeonghan, you’re unbelievable,” Hoshi echoed, still chuckling.

“S.Coups keeps cleaning.” Seungkwan pointed out.

“I know. Why are you working so hard?” Dokyeom asked.

S.Coups, ever diligent, kept wiping the floor, working harder than anyone else. “I was the first to get up.” he announced.

[That's what it takes to be the leader of SEVENTEEN]

As the room settled back into calm after the brief commotion, the members exchanged glances and laughs. The day had been chaotic, but this was just a brief pause before the next round of madness. With their energy recharged, they prepared for whatever the next segment had in store.

[This is what SEVENTEEN does on their break]

[To be continued in Clip 2-2]

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[fizzie-frog]

You know, the Stolitz scene was a trainwreck as a whole (they usually are), but what honestly got me most was the way Blitz started pleading when he thought his livelihood was going to be taken away.

THIS IS NOT A STOLAS SLANDER POST. I'm coming from a place where I've seen Blitz being mostly, if not entirely blamed for their lack of communication most of the time.

Moving on...

People keep going like "Well if imps are so low in the hierarchy..." - Let's take a break to think. Blitz isn't rich, he's just getting by really. And how is he getting by?

By prostituting himself. To the upper class.

That's what it is, he's a certified whxre. Things may have evolved in the meantime, but that's how it started. Blitz got asked for the deal while being chased by a crazy lady and him, wanting to keep his business and livelihood, said yes, obviously.

Now Stolas was suddenly taking the book back with no apparent explanation (until they got to the crystal), so of course Blitz thought he was doomed. On a side note, why couldn't Stolas say "You won't need the book, I have an alternative" instead of the ominous "I'll need the book back, permanently. I have made up my mind." I would be scared out of my mind.

He teared up immediately and started pleading, you could already see what was going through his head. He won't have the means to support his business anymore, to pay his employees, to afford a home, he'll be homeless and have no means to take care of Loona. Everyone will leave him again and he will starve on the streets all alone.

He'd do anything to be able to live a life a bit better than miserable, of course he would.

And this brings me to Stolas's treatment of Blitz. I see that everything tends to fall on Blitz, and I'm not saying he has no fault (in fact I didn't even like him at the beginning of the series too much), but Stolas treated him like a peasant. Just the episode before Ozzie's he's called him his "impish little plaything" and asked for a reward for the rescue. He put out cigarettes on his horns, he ignored his "stop" most times, he addressed him in this little baby voice with babying diminutives. "Itty bitty" imp.

And I am sure Stolas is socially clueless. He was brought up alone and sheltered, taught to be a prince first and foremost.

Stolas probably saw this as playful banter, as something that is inoffensive, silly. It was only in the Ozzie's episode that he finally saw that actually, his silly play served to make Blitz feel smaller.

And of course in this scenario, Blitz would see this coming out of the nether. He reacted quite badly, but why would this prince be actually in love with him? As he said, he needed to have a minute (or several) to think about everything. They needed to talk this out, and Blitz was about to apologize when Stolas cast him out.

They were both emotionally charged. They fucked up. But I can see Blitz's side. And the power imbalance is so evident, that hierarchy that everyone keeps saying is irrelevant - in a moment's notice, he could have his life swept from underneath him. Just like he thought it happened in that split moment; it worried him so much that he cried and pleaded (and that's not in Blitz's character to do).

And then he was so scared of not being enough too, ugh, his little "I can always do better!". He's so used to everyone just seeing him as a lost cause, better to be discarded. With this amalgamation of things, no wonder he can't believe Stolas would have feelings for him.

So uh, I don't know what the conclusion to this is. Normalize getting imps some actual comfort? So far the only really privileged imp in Helluva Boss is Fizz after getting rid of Mammon. And when I say priviledged, I'm referring to wealth and upper class, not taking into account personal issues such as disability and so forth.

Anyway, this was my two cents on Stolitz. I honestly haven't thought too much on them, I'm riding on the Fizzarolli high. I'm chill over here in my Fizzmodeus bubble, but doesn't mean I have no thoughts on Stolitz.

[ode2rin]

Was it because he sometimes fail to call you due to opposite time zones? Or was it the frequent periods when he wasn't at home? Had the distance finally played its game in your relationship?

Out of all people, you were the last person Sae would have expected to betray him like this.

Yet, it happened. You blindsided him.

“I’m just three episodes ahead! Stop being so dramatic!” you protested from the other end of the couch.

Yes, that's the grave betrayal you've committed. Was it worth fighting over? Maybe. Was he being petty? Of course not. The act itself could be the equivalent of your partner lying to you. A literal crime, if he can say so himself. 

“We were supposed to watch it together,” he frowned, his eyes fixed on the Netflix series playing on the TV with its soft glow highlighting the contours of Sae's face as he continued to express his mock indignation. “Together.” He stressed every syllable, dragging out the pettiness, much to your annoyance.

And there you both were, caught in the crossfire of a relationship dispute sparked by the unspoken rules of synchronized streaming. 

Were there any rules in the first place? Well, according to Sae's book, there certainly were. Because, much to his denial, Sae loves your relationship’s traditions. One of them being this – the two of you wrapped in thick blankets with you curling up to his side and his hands fiddling with yours while you both spend the night away watching a show you mentioned in your call with him when he was away. 

Now, however, the two of you (mainly him) are faced with the big question of how to enjoy said tradition when you're already three episodes ahead.

“I apologized already,” you point out.

“You said sorry after saying oh yeah, I kind of watched it and shrugged. Talk about sincerity.” 

You bite back your laughter at his words. You knew your boyfriend had a great tendency to be dramatic, but he surprises you every time he pulls out a fit like this one. 

“And look, you’re even laughing.” he glares at you. “You find it so funny that you broke your promise to watch it with me, is that it?”

“Oh, come on! How did you even know that I already watched it?! I was acting pretty well!” you exclaimed at him while inching closer, trying to get close to where he’s seated. 

Five minutes before this whole theatrics, Sae was sitting close to you. However, after realizing your betrayal, the sheer spite in him compelled him to retreat to the opposite end of the couch, far from your lying ass.

“Your acting skills are shit,” he tells you before rolling his eyes again.

It was a lie. He almost couldn’t tell except after one passing comical scene of the show.

Sae has developed a habit of looking at you whenever there’s a scene he thinks you would find remotely funny, no matter how ridiculous the said scene might be for him. At every joke and witty banter, he would turn to you for your own laugh.

You never caught on to this habit, and Sae would rather feed on those horrendous french fries than tell you how he seeks the way you throw your head back, and how your eyes momentarily shut from laughing because the sight spreads an indefinable warmth in his chest and how the sound fills every quiet corner of his once empty space. 

So imagine his surprise when you weren’t laughing. You were smiling – yes, but it wasn’t a laugh he seeks.

Sae was on the verge of turning his head again after hearing a sigh escape your lips. You’re sighing? And it was deep too, like it was telling him you’re getting sick of it. The absolute nerve.

“Did you just sigh–”

But before Sae could finish his sentence, your arms gracefully snaked around his torso, enveloping him in that comforting back hug you always bestowed upon him.

“I said I’m sorry,” you whispered against his shoulder blades, your right cheek caressing his back as you planted a feather-light kiss in that spot. You saw him momentarily close his eyes at your touch, making you smile secretly in triumph. 

You’ve loved this man long enough to memorize how to soften his rough edges.

“I was bored to my wits’ end last week, I couldn’t help it but check it out,” you added, your voice carrying a persuasive tone.

Last week. He was supposed to be home by that time. If he was, the two of you would be comfortably cuddling on this very same couch. But some lukewarm fool managing the team decided to extend his misery in Spain for another week.

“I don’t like that look.” 

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of your stern voice. Unbeknownst to Sae’s preoccupied self, you’ve been staring at his face far longer than a minute to notice his miniscule change of expression when you mentioned last week. Turning to his right shoulder where you were, he raised an eyebrow in question.

“I know you. Spit it out,” you demanded, a knowing glint in your eyes.

And truth be told, you do know him. You were right. For a moment, his thoughts lingered on how much easier it would be to have more nights of just you and him if he wasn't away all the time.

But he couldn’t tell you that, not just yet. Maybe when the timing finally called for his proposition. “I’m sorry my stay got extended,” is what he said instead, hoping to convey what he couldn’t put into words.

“You know I don’t mind, besides, I understand.”

“I know.”

Sensing an unspoken ‘but...’ in his words, you looked up to him, meeting his perceptive teal eyes. He didn’t need to say anything more. You knew him, after all.

To lighten the mood, you decided to test your luck by teasing him. “Oh, my big dramatic baby,” you cooed.

“I’m not a damn baby,” he snorted, beginning to squirm out of your embrace as if to prove a point without letting his ears betray him by turning red.

“Shh, you are. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else. I wouldn’t dare sabotage the Japan prodigy’s aloof badass rep to shit.”

You saw his mouth twitched, holding back his own amusement. God, even after all of those tender affections from you, this guy is still trying to be petty as hell.

“I don’t have an aloof badass reputation.”

“Yeah, because what you are is a dramatic spiteful boyfriend who thrives on being petty.”

“You’re really making it hard to forgive you, y/n.”

“Forgive me already!” You gaped at him, “And you say I’m the dramatic one in this relationship!”

Sae, like the rude person he is, ignored your whines, reaching for the remote to turn the show to the fourth episode. He then carefully placed you in his lap, turning you to face the TV, your back now pressing against his chest. As you watched everything he did in bewilderment, you turned to him, “but you won’t enjoy the story if we start on the fourth episode.”

True, but he preferred it when you were the one enjoying. “I’ll ask you questions along the way, and you can tell me about it,” he reassured you before pressing a kiss to your hair.

Exactly as he anticipated, your excitement to catch him up on the last three episodes was palpable. 

The living room transformed into a sanctuary of your laughter as you animatedly narrated each event that happened. He could barely understand the fourth one with all of your extra comments and snarky remarks on the characters that he doubts is even a part of the actual plot. The night danced away in the soothing rhythm of your voice and the murmur of a TV show, until your breaths finally eased into the cadence of sleep.

Silently, Sae turned off the TV, reveling in the tranquility of the room as he gathered you in his arms to head into your shared bedroom. Gently placing your slumbering form on your side of the bed, he settled beside you and draped the blanket over the two of you. Pulling you close, he nestled your head against his chest, one arm securing you at the waist.

But before sleep could fully claim his senses, he heard you mumbling.

“Sae?” 

Responding with a gentle hum, he felt your movements, your hands exploring the contours of his back as if tracing invisible lines and circles.

“About earlier,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere. I'll be here, waiting for you to get home.”

His eyes opened, the drowsiness dissipating in the wake of your words, replaced by your warmth all over his body next to yours.

“So, it’s okay,” you continued, your words a tender caress against his collarbones, “We have plenty of time for movie nights and catching up on shows.”

Silence embraced you both, the room a canvas painted in the soft strokes of your steady breaths and the gentle thud of his heartbeat. Sae didn’t verbally respond to your assurance. Instead, you felt him pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head and his arm around your waist tightening its hold.

He didn’t say anything, but his silence and his embrace was loud enough for you to know everything he wanted to say.

Of course, you both had time— a wealth of moments to spend more nights like this. He’ll make sure of it. After all, he looks forward to spending his days off in the tranquility of your presence. No matter how mundane it could get — as long as it’s with you.

note. it's been a while since i wrote this man.. i still cannot stand him and his petty ass by the way.