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#which is fine because i spent the day waiting for my dad in the hospital with nothing but my phone and ear buds (he's fine it's a check up)

meraki-yao · 4 months

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Translation of a Bilibili Video Analysing the Paris Love Making Scene

HOLY SHIT THIS LITERALLY TOOK ME ALL DAMN DAY

Preface from me: PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS NOT MY ORIGINAL CONTENT! THIS IS JUST MY TRANSLATION OF THE FOLLOW VIDEO MADE BY 搭火箭都要追剧 A CHINESE RWRB FAN. I REPEAT, THE CONTENT IS NOT MINE, I'M JUST A TRANSLATOR (that being said I did a little bit of commentary, anything in brackets is my own thoughts)

All photos are unedited screenshots taken directly from the video

Preface from OP: The content of this video is very subjective and shallow, if it's different from your opinions, you're the right one (a Chinese saying which basically means "this is just my thoughts don't come at me") and it's most likely to be very different from any official BTS.

Didn't translate the first part because 1, I can't really translate it well due to cultural references 2, I... don't really agree with it, but did like 90% of the video

Also since it's about the Paris love-making scene, there's sexual content, you have been warned

For the moment when Alex slips his hand under Henry's shirt

When Alex slides his hand across Henry's naked waist, his fingertips, the most sensitive part of the hand is touching Henry's bare skin and stirring his desires, which is why Alex's body tenses: he clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath in.

In contrast, Henry is absorbed in the romance of it all. He's been in love with Alex the whole time and finally, the man of his dreams is here with him, touching him.

For the couple of shots where they stand naked with Henry touching Alex

1, Close Up Shot of Henry's hand gliding up Alex's arm

Henry told Alex that he's in good hands, therefore Henry's the one to lead this dance and set the atmosphere, so most of the light is on him, with the bright spot being shone on Henry's wrist which leads the audience to focus on that point

He starts with his fingertips running along Alex's vein, but the brightest spot doesn't follow the movement of his hand and stays focused on his wrist and the lower part of his thumb while the rest of his hand is in darker lighting. This is to strike a contrast and to put the focus on Henry's hand and therefore his movement. The reason only part of his hand is illuminated is because his entire hand is lit, the frame's lighting loses its balance and looks abnormal, and won't match the more subtle, softer tones of the romance in the movie

A highly saturated orange/golden light is chosen, which increases the feeling of content and ambiguity (I don't that sounds weird but it's the closest word I can think of, but a more accurate description… Imagine the use of steam in a shower sex scene) which also hints that this is going to be a lovely night

The use of light and the contrast of brightness on different parts also serve to convey Henry's emotions and internal thoughts. Even though their first night in Alex's room and their hook-up during the polo match were both really intense, but it was more about the surging, frantic sexual desire between the two. Now Henry doesn't actually know how Alex will react and is somewhat worried about it, which is represented by his fingers in darker lighting. But at the same time, Paris is the first time Henry can be so physically close with his long-time crush and be extremely honest/vulnerable with him, and later understand and feel each other on a spiritual level (… Woah.). He feels contentment from that, which is what the brighter area conveys.

In this single shot, the bright and dark areas are fairly equal, which also means these two emotions are in equal conflict at this moment

Then Henry's hand slides up towards Alex's shoulder and he switches to touching him with his fingertips, which, with its sensitivity, means Henry can feel any tiny change on Alex's skin. He feels Alex's excitement and comfort, which in turn makes him happy and bolder, which is also conveyed in the change of the light in the frame: the fingertips that were previously in dark lighting gradually shift into the brighter area, representing his worries fading

2, The following shot of Henry facing Alex's camera right, Alex's back against the audience, camera left

The light is still on Henry which means this shot is still conveying Henry's feelings

There's a clear contrast of light on his face which makes his face seem more 3D (again sorry for the weird translation but I can't find any other words) and attracts the audience's attention more.

The contrast is also represented in Henry's characterization. To explain this, we need to understand what a cognitive schema is: cognitive schema is a psychological concept which can be summarized as when a person is exposed to an object, event or person, they will use precious experience and knowledge to make a general judgment and description of them thus predicting their next actions. So in the case of Henry, at first since he's a prince, the audience and Alex, using their cognitive schema will assume he's prim and proper, when in reality he's horny (ha), flirtatious and adorable (so in conclusion, he's actually a babygirl)

Henry then lingers his hand on Alex, and glances at Alex with a flirtatious smile, enjoying Alex's shiver under his touch.

3, Shot of Alex facing audience camera left, Henry back against audience camera right

The light is now mostly on Henry's back, increasing the romantic atmosphere of the shot.

The light is also on Alex's torso and cheek forming a light contrast, which turns the audience's focus onto Alex. The larger dark area indicates he's being led by Henry in this situation, and he doesn't really know what Henry's gonna do, therefore his nervousness is the dominating emotion, represented by the dark area.

But he's also enjoying Henry's touches, which is why the light is still mostly on Henry but also partly on Alex now, almost like an extension of the contentment that Henry feels

The lamp that in-universe is providing the lighting is on the right side of the frame. If a similar light source isn't placed on the left side, the left side of the frame would seem too cold, which would destroy the atmosphere previously created. Therefore a mirror was placed there both for spatial balance and to create a reflection of the lamp's light, creating a small light spot on the left, balancing the coloring and lighting of the shot.

To the right of the mirror where the light can't cover is a small cupid statue. The statue not only adds to the romantic atmosphere but also indicates what's about to happen, as cupid symbolizes love and sex. Cupid is also a mischievous God who enjoys pranks, which also somewhat describe the boys' relationship: cupid shoots out the silver/lead arrow of aversion and revulsion that leads to their misunderstanding and subsequent hatred, but the shoots out the golden arrow of fall that led to them falling in love with each other and living together happily ever after.

Alex keeps watching Henry's hand as his hand slides down and looks back up when Henry touches his chest and takes a deep breath. Henry smiles brightly at Alex's reaction.

Alex then becomes intoxicated by Henry's touch as his sexual desires take over him

When Henry picks up the key that means a lot to Alex, Alex clenches his jaw. The highlight in his eyes allows the audience to immediately catch the change in his eyes that's filled up with lust.

So to conclude this part, a lot of attention was given to the placement of props and the lighting: the saturated golden creates a romantic but steamy/foggy (meraki seriously can't find the right word) setting, which is a filmmaking technique often used by Wong Kar Wai, in fact a similar lighting was used in "In the Mood for Love" (Matthew is a true fan)

For the shots of them kissing on the bed

There's a red mark on Henry's chest which OP explained in an earlier video that would have been caused by Alex grabbing there when thrusting forward

There's another possibility which is Alex getting excited when being behind Henry but he doesn't really know what to do so all he can do is grind against Henry. But Henry feels and sounds divine, and Alex gets impatient so he leaves marks on Henry's arm and chest

To prove her hypothesis op did an experiment with her own arm: she chose her arm because just like the part of Henry's chest that's marked, part of the muscle curves (into the elbow just as the chest muscle curves into the armpit) it's not a easy place for fingers to exert force, thus can draw a closer, more subjective comparison.

Experiment process: open uses her other hand to grab onto her arm and pull backwards forcefully, to 1, observe the shape of the mark and if it's identical to that of Henry's, 2, observe the time needed to create the mark in order to be the same as Henry's

As shown in the photo, the (faint) red marks are approximately the same shape, width and redness as the ones on Henry's chest. It took 28 seconds to reach this. This approximates the time taken by Alex to "do stuff" (I think she means prep?) from Henry's behind

With how loving and gentle Alex is with Henry it's not that likely that he started groping Henry's chest from the beginning, so the conclusion is when Alex was trying to "move forward" when he was behind Henry (I seriously don't know if she means prep or like, doggy style) but doesn't really know what to do and groped Henry in his nervousness, and this failed attempt lasted at least 28 seconds.

OP thinks the failed attempt was done in front of the window with Henry bending over, gripping the back of one of the chairs, and deduced from the DNC scene: the boys were originally chatting in bath robes on the couch with the curtain mostly closed, but when Zahra barged in, the blackout curtain was out, leaving just the mesh layer closed. There was a bathrobe on the far side of the couch and another in front of the window. So presumably after the talk, they went for another round, Henry ditched his robe on one side of the couch and pounced on Alex (similarly to how he did on Alex's couch), they tumbled around and switched position and ended up in front of the window, Alex remembered he failed attempt in Paris and wanted to make up for it so he pulled open the blackout curtain but left the mesh layer closed, and then he got to work. (...tbn personally I think this is a stretch?)

Henry thinks Alex is adorable but he's also really intoxicated and wants to get down to business asap, so he grabs Alex's neck and presses Alex towards him, kissing from Alex's lips to his neck. He kissed Alex's neck because from their first hook-up and the way Alex immediately stretched his neck to give Henry space when he kissed his neck then, that this is the quickest way to stimulate him. Which is why you can see a faint hickey on Alex's neck

As they kiss they walk towards the bed. During their first hook-up, Henry pushed Alex onto the couch, so now it's Alex's turn to pounce on Henry, which is what we see in the shot: Henry falls onto the bed first, then Alex follows. Alex is really happy and a bit proud that he can drive Henry crazy like this, while (and I quote directly) Henry can't think of anything anymore, and has "please hurry up and fuck me" painted on his face

The mark/hickey on Alex's neck takes the shape of an inverted triangle, with the vertical side and the diagonal side (left down right up, in math it's a positive slope) being more red, which means those two points experienced the largest amount of force

Red Mark on Henry's Chest

Screenshot from In the Mood for Love using a similar lighting

Red Mark Result from OP's experiment

Blackout Curtain Closed on DNC Night

Bathrobe (presumed to be Henry's) on the far side of the couch

Bathrobe (presumed to be Alex's) near the window, Blackout Curtain Open in the background

For the process, deduced with the shot of them laying in bed during the afterglow

The trajectory of sweat on Henry's temple runs downward vertically. If he was fucked lying down, the sweat should run into his ear canal horizontally. Which means he was fucked in a sitting position. For example in the polo match hookup, Henry's sweat is visible in the form of drops running vertically down his face. Also in the afterglow, the sweat also seems to be splattered, which required Henry to have vigorously moved either up and down or front and back. So yeah this further proves that there was a cut riding scene.

Alex also has sweat on his face, and his fringe is wet. So riding should have happened right before they lied down and started talking.

So the process deduced by OP is 1, they tried doggy style in front of the window and failed 2, what was shown in the movie 3, doggy style on the bed 4, riding (OP wasn't aware of the details of the extended Paris love-making scene, but all RWRB fans in China know that there's doggy style and riding that got cut, this is OP's deduction of the order)

Even without looking at the sweats and marks, from the way Henry's signet ring is turned in the movie you can tell that something's deleted, since before Alex intertwined his fingers with Henry, the letter H was facing outwards, and when their hands join the movement causes the ring to turn and for the letter to face inwards. But then the next shot with Henry's hand on Alex's shoulder shows the ring worn normally again, which means something in between was deleted or reordered.

Hickey on Alex's Neck

Henry's sweat in the afterglow

Henry's sweat during the polo hook-up

Alex's sweat in the afterglow

tagging @sanneannelies7 and @na-18dia who mentioned wanting the translation in my original post

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

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Big Biggie

Request: from @itmejado

Could you write an imagine where Rossis daughter has an asthma problem and has to go to hospital for antibiotics and stay for a few days and the team comes and spends time with her, like playing chess with Spencer, penny makes cookies, she watches sports with Derek?

David Rossi x daughter!reader, Platonic!BAU x rossi!reader

Summary: reader with asthma finds herself in the hospital while her dad is away. The team steps in to keep her company.

A/N: I don't have asthma so I did research to try to get as accurate as possible. I hope this captures everything okay. If not, I am always open to feedback in order to make the next request better. Thanks!

CW: reader has asthma, minor swearing, hospitals, IVs, reader is sassy (as I'd imagine Rossi's daughter would be)

---

You hated frat boys

No. That statement didn’t cover it all; you hated frat boys that didn’t have the decency to cover their damn mouths when they coughed. Of course, not everyone had been raised in a mansion, but sometimes the level of common sense people lacked completely baffled you. After just one class of sitting next to a guy from Sigma-Phi-Disease-Factory claiming that he “just has allergies” you ended up with pneumonia.

No biggie, right?

Yes biggie. Big biggie.

Because having athsma made treating pneumonia far more complicated than taking a trip to the student health center.

The persistance of your wet cough and the burn in your chest as you heaved air in and out of your lungs became increasingly concerning. You weren’t sure if you had so much pain in your chest because you felt like you couldn’t breathe, or if you felt like you couldn’t breathe because of the pain. When your temperature skyrocketed and your skill chilled, you had your roommate drop you off at the ER.

It didn’t take the doctors long to decide you needed to be admitted, and immediately after finding out the pneumonia was bacterial, you were glad you hadn’t waited any longer than you did. Growing up with athsma meant you had been through enough treatments, seen enough specialists, and had enough infections to know that you’d be laid up in the hospital on IV antibiotics for at least five days.

Staring at the ceiling, you found yourself craving company, but you weren’t sure who to call. Your roommates were busy working and your dad was on vacation. Well, actually he was on his book tour, but that was the closest thing David Rossi got to a vacation. You didn’t want to bother him.

The problem with that- you were still on his insurance plan. You’d have to bother him some time before you got discharged. It was probably better that you did it now rather than later.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite girl," he answered after the first ring. “I was just about to call and tell you about this fantastic restaurant I went to last night. I think it’s the best carbonara I’ve had since your great-grandmother was alive.”

“That’s great, dad,” you managed to choke out.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Your dad said, his voice filled concern.

You wanted to sigh, but it came out as a cough. “I’m in the hospital,” you managed to say between heavy breaths. “Bacterial pneumonia. I have to be on an IV for a few days, but I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll catch the next flight home-”

“Dad, no.” You coughed, the speed at which you cut him off causing mucus to come up your throat. “There’s only one more day left of your tour. You deserve to have some fun every once in a while. I’ll be fine. Bored, but fine.”

You heard your dad hesitate. Rossi had raised you on his own. Every minute he didn’t spend working to catch the most dangerous criminals in the country, he spent taking care of you. The man deserved a break.

“Okay,” he said. “But if you need me all you have to do is call and I’ll be there.”

“Okay, dad.” Your eyes felt heavy. “I love you.”

“I love you too, kiddo.”

---

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep for, but when you woke up there was someone next to your bed.

“Who are you and why are you eating my jello?” You muttered, your eyes still only half open.

“Good morning to you too, (Y/N).” Derek chuckled. “How are you feeling?”

“Never better,” you replied, followed by a wheeze. “Why are you here? Let me guess, one of the nurses here is a serial murderer- wait no. Dr. Super Genius managed to get shot again.”

At that, Derek burst out laughing, nearlying dropping his empty jello cup on the floor. “You are your father’s daughter, aren’t you?” he said. “I’m here because I heard a certain Rossi told her dad not to come home from his book tour early and I couldn’t let the BAU’s favorite oldest kid be bored and alone.”

“I appreciate that, Derek, but you really didn’t have to. There isn’t much to do around here.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Derek grabbed the remote for the TV. “The Commanders are playing the Bears today and there was no way I was going to miss an opportunity to watch my home team beat yours.” His smile turned cocky.

You wanted to back-talk him but you began coughing violently, mucus rising in your throat, chest heaving as you struggled for air.

“Let it out, kid,” Derek rubbed your arm softly. “Let it out.”

Just then another agent you knew all too well walked into the room, but this one was far less fun- Agent Hotchner. Though you had known him the longest of anyone on your father's team, he didn’t make for great company. Unless, of course, one considered filling out copious amounts of paperwork in silence a fun activity.

“Morgan, what did you do?” He asked.

“Nothing, Hotch!” Derek said defensively.

He was right- it wasn’t his fault your body decided that it needed to try to eject your lungs from your chest. But Hotch wasn't looking at you, instead, he walked over to the table with not one, not two, but three empty jello cups.

Your coughing subsided and Derek turned to look at his boss, who raised a suspicious eyebrow. “I might have participated in the jello.”

Hotch let out a small, rare smile and turned to you. “Your dad gave me the information to get your forms filled out so you don’t have to worry about it. I have to go, but you can call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you managed to get out.

Hotch nodded. “Of course. Get some rest.” The interaction was short, brief, and to the point, but Aaron Hotchner leaving work to fill out medical forms so you didn’t have to do it later was his way of letting you know he cared.

“Now,” Derek said. “Where were we?” He turned up the volume on the TV just as the Commanders scored a touchdown.

“You’re going down.” You smirked at him.

---

“Ha! The Commanders win 14 to 7!” You cheered weakly. The antibiotics were starting to kick in, making the suffocating feeling in your chest far less painful than before.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright, kid. But they only won because that ref made a bad call.”

“It doesn’t matter. They still won.”

“Who won what?” Penelope Garcia toddled into the room on bright pink heels. She was wearing a black and white polkadot dress with a cardigan to match her shoes. Sometimes you wondered if she had to bribe someone to get around FBI dress code.

“The Commanders beat the Bears,” you told her, smirking at Derek.

“Ooo!” Penelope squealed. She didn’t understand sports, but she understood enough to ask “So your team beat Derek’s team?”

You nodded.

“Do you know what that means?”

You shook your head.

“It means that you get to pick out your cookie before he does.” Penelope smiled and pulled a box of cookies out from her purse, offering them to you. They were the good kind- the ones that she spent hours icing and designing to look like cartoon kittens.

“Penny, you are the best,” you told her. You picked out a cookie that looked a whole lot like Sergio and took your time enjoying the delicious treat. “So good.”

Derek nodded in agreement as he finished off his first cookie and went to grab another one. Penelope swatted his hand away.

“I made one for each of us,” she said.

“But there’s one left,” Derek observed.

Before Garcia could reply, Spencer Reid made his way into the room and grabbed the last cookie. Derek looked defeated.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Reid said, putting down his satchel and taking a seat before starting on his dessert.

“Hey, Spencer,” you replied, then furrowed your brow in confusion. “You came in here without a hazmat suit on?” Spencer was known for having a slight problem with germs.

“As long as we stay five feet away we should be fine,” he countered. “Plus I want a rematch of our annual holiday game.” He pulled a chess board from his satchel and began to set it up on a small chair.

“Reid,” you started. “How are we supposed to play if I can’t even reach the board?”

“Morgan can move the pieces for you,” Spencer said with a mouthful of cookie.

“Penny can’t do it instead?” you asked, half to tease Derek and half because you were sure the guy had never played chess in his life.

“Hey, ouch!” Derek said, bringing his hand to his chest and pretending to be hurt. “But you are right. I think Penelope would be the better choice.”

“I’m on it!” Garcia got up from her seat to move closer to Reid, who had placed himself as far from your bed as possible.

The game took far longer than normal, with Spencer having to guide Garcia through what moves you were asking for, and the match ended in a stalemate. You were about to start another round when a nurse came by, letting everyone know that visiting hours were up.

You said your thank you's and goodbye's to your father's team members. After that, it wasn’t long before you fell asleep.

---

“Yes, and according to Morgan, her and Reid’s chess match ended in a stalemate. I have a feeling he might not be able to wait until the holiday party for a second rematch,” Hotch told Dave over the phone.

“Thanks for doing that, Aaron,” Rossi said. “It means a lot.”

Before Hotch had a chance to answer, a flight attendant tapped Rossi on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to put your phone on airplane mode for the flight.”

Rossi gestured that he just needed one more minute and put the phone back up to his ear.

“What time are you getting in tomorrow?” Hotch asked.

Rossi sighed. “Not till the afternoon at least. I forgot that layovers are a huge pain in the ass.”

“Well, try not to worry too much about (Y/N). Emily and JJ have something planned to keep her occupied.”

Rossi smiled. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Well,” Hotch said, taking on a bit of a playful tone. “As Garcia might say, it’s no biggie.”

“Sir.” the flight attendant came back, this time looking far more annoyed.

“I’ve gotta go. Thanks again, Aaron.” Rossi hung up the phone.

It’s no biggie.

But it was. Even when he couldn’t be there for his daughter, his team- their second family- always would be. And that was a big biggie.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x reader #david rossi x daughter!reader #Criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds #david rossi

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theageofsims · 2 months

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Hey guys, sorry I've been away. I had an ear that was bothering me when I was building that fast food place. Stayed with it for two weeks, then went to the walk-in.

They flushed my ear out (first time had that happen), had no infection either. But my blood pressure was sky high. They checked it 3 times and told me I needed to go to the hospital.

Long story short, today I was diagnosed with High Blood Pressure and Diabetes.

Mentally I'm really struggling to take everything in, but my mother's been a diabetic for 33 years so I know all about it growing up and also living with my mom since my parents divorced (way back then).

Some may know my dad passed away from stomach cancer about a year and a half ago. It's been hard dealing with that, amongst other things in my life, and now I've got more to deal with.

I'll be fine, but sometimes when I get very stressed with stuff in life I end up forgetting to take care of myself the way I should.

I'm still around and all, but I'm afraid of a lot of things. My mom is this strong as hell independent chick since the moment I came into this world 36 years ago -- hell, since she had my brother 43 years ago. Maybe even long before that. She keeps telling me I've got to be strong and I know she's right.

I feel like the older I get the more worried I become about things. Losing my dad didn't make it any better, but I'll manage to handle that as best as I can.

Thankfully (and unfortunately) diabetes for me genetically plays a part, but I also love home cooked meals and healthy foods, I just got carried away with everything else I shouldn't have been eating or drinking and I stopped working where I was for 10 years that kept me on my feet and doing 10,000 steps a day.

I already hate myself or beat myself up for a week already, but I know I shouldn't do that. Anybody can get high blood pressure and/or diabetes no matter if they're a health nut or they aren't. Regardless of how much they way as well.

I really wish I could call my dad up and say hey, dad! Like I normally would. Chat with him about anything and everything, including tech stuff (since he worked as an IT guy for 30 years), or even Harrison Ford being in a new movie since he loved watching him in movies, too -- but I can't. I think a lot of me being afraid is because I haven't got my dad reassuring me when I need it the most.

I'm usually someone who doesn't feel down. I guess I've spent so many years just holding the stress inside or hiding it because I never wanted help or someone to ask me how I was doing -- and there's been a lot of stresses since I was 15 years old.

I'm pretty down now though. I pretty much just wonder how I got where I am and how much of it was my fault and how much wasn't.

Since I left my job two years ago, nothing has gone right in my life. My dad got sick with stomach cancer and then he died within 5 months. I am struggling to make my small handmade business work. There are other family issues going on indirectly to me, but are in my immediate family so I am around the stress and trying to help others deal with it, and now I've got my health to deal with and worry about.

I know I'm not the only one either. I knew what I would be diagnosed with, but I didn't say it. I've been checking my blood pressure and pricking my finger to check my sugar level for a whole week on my mother's machines. But I wanted to wait until after my appointment today with my new PCP who I will be seeing regularly now, which will also hopefully help calm my fear of doctors (I've had every day of my life since birth -- took 5 nurses to hold me down once JUST to get a culture test for strep throat. When I say all my life -- I mean, ALL my life.)

Anyway, I shouldn't be upset and I sure as hell shouldn't cry because Lord knows I've been crying so many tears for awhile now, but right now I've got blurred vision from crying as I write this post and hope the eye doctor I have to go see since I have diabetes, doesn't tell me that I've damaged my eyes for good.

Anyway, if you read this -- thanks for reading this. I know I pretty much stick to Sims stuff all the time sprinkled in with my favorite movies / actors and not things like this, but I guess I just need some support because I never really had any my whole life and never thought I'd need it -- but I'm human like everyone else and I suppose, after all of this, I do need it.

#blurb

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countessofravenclaw · 5 days

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Puede la ondulación cambiar una marea? part eight

Have you ever imagined what would happen if instead of of making Ambar Sol, Sharon would have aproached her problem with more level-headedness? What if, instead of throwing her daughter's life into a curve she just fires the Valentes, in hopes that they go back to Mexico and never find out the truth? Well, it was never going to be that easy, "everything you want you can achieve" being the family motto and all the for the Valentes after all. Monica and Miguel, could easily find another job, and so they do, with another family. A family that ends up being a bit of a surprise for Luna and all her friends.

“Lass uns später noch einmal darüber reden. Danke dir übrigens!” Gastón heard his mother speak on the phone as he entered the dining room. It had been a while since he had heard her speak German.

Both of his parents spoke few languages outside of English—because who didn’t know how to speak that? They both spoke Portuguese, German, at least moderate French and Gastón wasn’t sure which Scandinavian language it was, but his Dad knew some of that as well.

“Darling,” Isla took off her handsfree earpiece as she saw him and looked at her watch, “you’re up already?”

“Yeah,” Gastón nodded, “Did I interrupt your business call?”

“No, it was ending anyway.” Isla shook her head and walked closer to him around the table, “How are you feeling? Should you be up?”

“I’ve spent the last 36 hours staring at four walls, and I’m getting sick of it,” Gastón sighed, “I’m good.”

“You sure?” Isla looked at him, “You’re not having any chest pain?”

“No,” Gastón shook his head again.

“Blurry vision or any memory problems?”

“I can recite for you the full fire department ranking system if you want,” He sat down on a chair, “Mom, you’re just going through a checklist.”

“You bet I am,” Gastón had never seen so much worry in either of his parents' eyes than during the past few days. “Two days ago, you were in the hospital. I’m sorry if we're being a bit cautious, but that is our right.”

“Okay,” He sighed again, “Where’s Dad?”

“Calvin gave us a contact in the OFI, so he’s talking to them. We are not going to wait for any official report from the school to know what actually happened. You’re not going back in there before we do.”

“Morning!!” Luna jumped into the dining room.

“Morning,” Isla looked at her, “How are you feeling?”

“100 percent!” Luna jumped up briefly. “I texted Juliana last night, and the training starts back up tomorrow and since the school is still canceled so we can train for longer, which is amazing. I thought I’d go to the rink today to get a feel for it back. I’ve been away from the rink for a few days, and I honestly feel like I can’t breathe.”

“That is maybe not the best idea.” Isla responded to her.

“What?” Luna stared.

“That you go to the rink,” Isla crossed her arm.

“Why?”

“You were in the hospital too, let's not forget that,” Isla looked at Luna, “Smoke inhalation is serious, no matter what level. My father taught me that a long time ago, the biggest reason for fire fatalities is the smoke and carbon monoxide, not the actual fire. That is why they wear those masks. The doctors said that you should take it easy for a few days, and since you don’t even have practice, you shouldn’t go.”

“But I feel fine,” Luna tried, “I’ve been resting for two days. I need to train. It’s important!”

“Your health is much more important. I’m sorry Luna, but this isn’t your decision to make. It’s ours, and the answer is no. You can go tomorrow, when you’ve rested today and let the antibiotics do their job. There is no reason for you to try to exert yourself as soon as you can.”

“But…” Luna sat down.

“No buts. We’re responsible for you, and you have to allow us to do that.”

“It is very pointless to try to argue with her,” Gastón said to Luna, “I’ve tried for almost 18 years.”

“And you haven’t succeeded many times, have you?” Isla looked at him slightly more amused.

“And this is just one of them, it is worse when there are two.”

“What was that?” Marco walked into the dining room.

“Nothing.” Gastón said quickly as his dad looked at him. “And if you’re about to ask me the same checklist, don’t bother, Mom already did that. I’m good.”

“Good.” Marco nodded as he placed his hand on Isla’s back.

“What did they say?” She asked him.

“The investigation has been completed, and the report that they will give to the school classifies the fire as an accident caused by flammable printer inks being stored improperly. The storage unit had a distribution board that short circuited and the sparks caught on the fluids. They never should have been stored there.”

“So, Blake has a logistic issue?” Isla shook her head, “Someone could have died.”

“It is unbelievable,” She and Marco looked at Gastón, “It is a big hit for the school administration that can’t just be damage controlled. They’ll be forced to take a hard look at things now.”

“So, am I allowed to go to school anymore or not?” Gastón asked, “Because it's kind of hard to graduate if I’m not allowed to step into the building.”

“We’ll talk to the school board tomorrow,” Isla responded, “but as of now if all the necessary security measures have been taken, which they have promised they’d do, Luna can go on Tuesday. Gastón, the doctor signed you off for at least 12 days, so you’re not going anywhere before that. Don’t you even dare to think about the rink.”

“Wasn’t planning on.” He sighed while looking at his phone. He could admit that much that he was in no shape to actually skate right now.

“Oh, and Luna,” Marco changed the subject, “I also had the chance to talk with Lukie.”

“Who?” Luna looked confused.

“She’s the associate that Alexei has in the case of your visitations,” Marco explained, “Unfortunately, the in-person visits are being pushed to one time every three weeks.”

“That’s like once a month!!” Luna exclaimed, “I can’t see Mom and Dad more than that?”

“It is extremely unfair, but they’re arguing the severity of the case. Lukie said that this should be temporary, and she’ll set it straight, because it is infringing on your rights. Important thing is that you have rights and one of them actually is phone times.”

“What are those?” Luna asked again. All the legal terms had gone right over her head.

“You’re entitled to one hour phone calls, twice a week.”

“I’ll get to talk with Mom and Dad?!?!” Luna jumped up from the table.

“Yes,” Marco handed Luna a phone. “I scheduled one for you for today, at 12. The call will come from the detention facility, there is someone surveying it on your parents’ end and it will be recorded, so you can’t plan a jailbreak, but that’s better than nothing. We can go over later how you can schedule the calls yourself. It will come to this.”

“Why can’t they just call my phone?” Luna asked, even if she was almost too excited to care.

“We are not giving the detention facility your phone number,” Isla shook her head, “We don’t trust the place, and the more it is out there, the more it can leak. That is an old phone that we got a temporary operator on, works for phone calls just fine.”

“You said 12?” Luna asked and suddenly checked her own phone, “OMG! That’s like in an hour. I need to call Simon about this!!” She jumped up from the table and turned to leave before turning back and looking at Isla and Marco, “Thank You.”

Then she ran off.

“This should have been disclosed as an opportunity from the beginning,” Isla said Marco. “Did Lukie say why it hadn't?”

“She promised to get to the bottom of this.” Marco nodded. “But honestly, I don’t know. The police and the facilities aren’t clearly thinking what sort of effects this situation can have on a child.”

“Hey! Luna just zoomed past me. Has something happened?” Suddenly Gastón heard a voice behind him.

“Nina?” He got up from the chair and turned around to see her walk into the dining room. “How did you get in here?”

“We gave her the key and clearances when you were in the hospital,” Isla explained, “Did we not tell you?”

“No,” Gastón shook his head as he walked to his girlfriend, “You didn’t tell me either.”

“I thought you knew.” She responded before he closed her in a tight hug—not as tight as he would have wanted though, given the burn on his arms was sensitive to pressure.

“We thought it would be best for you if she gets in here as easily as possible.”

“You thought right,” Gastón smiled—

He momentarily closed his eyes and had to place his hand on the table to steady himself for a moment, before he almost lost his balance.

“Sit down.” His dad had rushed to his side as soon as he had started feeling dizzy. He placed his hand on his forehead, “You’re looking really pale. Do you feel feverish at all?”

“No,” Gastón shook his head as he sat down, “Why would I have a fever?”

“It would be a sign that you’re developing an infection.” He felt three pairs of concerned eyes land on him as he sat back down on the chair. Marco’s hand moved to his shoulder. “At that point if there is a sliver of a sign, we won’t be having a conversation about why, but we’ll already be going. You wanna argue with me about alarm symptoms?”

Who wanted to argue about taking illness symptoms seriously with a person who had to look over his own parents his whole adolescent and young adult life while they slowly lost their battle with cancer?

“No,” Gastón sighed, “but I’m…”

“If you say that you’re fine one more time… We’re not taking any chances here, not with you.”

“Okay,” Gastón relented, “My head’s killing me, I feel dizzy and fatigued and my throat kind of hurts. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes.” The word came unanimously from his parents' mouths.

“Your condition was serious enough to warrant over 24 hours in the hospital. It is not gonna go back to normal in a few days, just because you got discharged.” Marco continued, “That’s not gonna be something we're gonna take lightly and nor should you, no matter how stubborn you want to be about it. Your grandmother was like that though, so I guess the genes make sense. You really should go lie down and try to at least drink something every hour to keep the blood sugar up.”

“I’ll take him,” Nina said and pulled Gastón by the arm. “Come on.”

“Well, it is good to know that when he doesn’t want to listen to us, he listens to her.” Isla remarked.

“We better keep her on our side.” Marco wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“It does do good to see him be so love struck. I stand by my statement. He has your eyes, the light is shining from them exactly the same way.”

“We both have a good reason for it.” He kissed her one her temple before sighing, “I have about ten thousand emails I need to respond to.”

“I’ll join you in a minute,” Isla responded, “We haven’t picked up the post in at least a week. We really need to transfer all the bills into online ones.”

***

“Yeah, I get to talk with them!!” Luna sat on her bed while talking to Simon. “I miss Mom and Dad so much.”

“That is great,” Simon responded. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Luna rolled her eyes, “I mean I felt like coughing yesterday still, but now it feels like I am bursting with energy. I miss the rink.”

“Why not come today?” Simon suggested, “Since you’re not sick anymore. Juliana has us working late even if we’re not training.”

“I wanted to, but I’m not allowed,” Luna sighed, “I can come tomorrow for the training, but today I need to rest.”

“You’re being kept as a prisoner?” Simon’s tone changed.

“Not like that,” Luna laughed slightly, “but it’s not like I can sneak out. The gate keeps a record of who opens it, I think, or something like that. I guess, I’ll have to admit that they’re right, kind of, and Mom and Dad wouldn’t want me to overdo it either.”

***

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Simon hung up the phone and sat on the stage of Jam and Roller with his guitar.

“Was that Luna?” Jim and Yam walked to him.

“Yeah,” Simon nodded.

“How’s she doing?” Yam asked. “I still can’t believe the whole fire thing. School is starting back up on Tuesday.”

“We thought we’d ask Nina, but she’s not here is she?” Jim looked around, “I guess we could call Luna herself too. We’d go visit her, but we don’t know where she lives.”

“You wouldn't be able to get in even if you did,” Simon sighed, “There is a heavy-duty gate there.”

“Was that what you meant when you mentioned someone being kept a prisoner?” Yam asked, “...or was that about her parents. That is still an absolutely horrible situation for Luna. How can the world be so unjust?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I could survive that.” Jim leaned her head on Yam’s shoulder.

“Luna is strong,” Simon nodded, “She’s alright, that's what she said. But they aren’t letting her come to the rink. Apparently Gastón’s parents are quite protective.”

“Gastón’s parents? Protective?” Jim and Yam stared at him. “He has never seemed like he has strict parents. From what we have seen, he has gotten to do what he wants most part.”

“Yeah, and it’s not like making sure she’ll rest after getting stuck in a fire is super controlling.” Yam continued, “My mom wouldn’t let me come to rink if it had been me, and she’s a doctor.”

“Mine too,” Jim nodded, “I mean, that she would make me rest and that she’s a doctor. Twinsies.”

“Wait, do you know them too?” Simon asked, confused.

“No not personally like Matteo does or how Nina does now too,” Jim shook her head, “But we do know that they’re kind of a big deal, I guess everyone does. Apparently Isla and Marco Perida are considered quite a power couple in some circles.”

“I’ve maybe looked them up a few times,” Yam admitted, “Not for Gastón’s sake or anything—he’d probably hate for any special consideration—but because Isla has such a beautiful style.”

“I think we can all agree that none of us could have ever predicted that out of every crazy scenario that’s out there, Luna and Gastón would become siblings.” Jim laughed.

“They aren’t siblings.” Simon noted.

“Good as, though. Nina must be happy. She’s getting to have her best friend and boyfriend at the same house and basically as brother and sister.”

***

“Thanks for saving me.” Gastón said as Nina pulled the door to his room shut. “Mom and Dad, they just—”

“I didn’t save you from anything,” Nina crossed her arms and looked at him disapprovingly. “I agree with them.” She walked closer and took his face into her hands, “You look terrible. You need to lie down.”

“Okay,” Gastón nodded and sat on his bed. Truth be told, he was feeling quite a bit of drowsiness and fatigue. “Only if you come here.”

“You should actually try to rest.” Nina looked at him skeptically.

“I feel worse if you’re not next to me.”

Nina laughed slightly before lying next to him on the bed. She ran her hand on his right forearm, on top of the bandage. “Does this hurt?”

“A little bit.” He nodded slightly.

“Sorry, I’ll stop.”

“If I make it to the competition, I’ll need to wear long sleeves.” Gastón remarked. “We don’t want to scare the judges. I mean my face alone will be a sight, because there is no hope that the scar will disappear in two months' time.”

“You can always ask Jazmin to cover it up.” Nina suggested while tracing the stitches on his forehead. Gastón was right that it wasn't the prettiest sight, but it was not like she cared. He was good looking either way.

“I’ll probably have to do that, but I do hope that it fades,” Gastón sighed, “For Mom and Dad’s sake if no one else. I don’t want there to be a visual reminder of all of this that they need to see every day. I mean they’re already so freaked out.”

“Anyone would be, especially in their situation.” Nina ran her hand through his hair, “They can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“I know,” Gastón nodded, “I mean the feeling is mutual, especially now, as we get along so well at the moment.”

“When have you not gotten along with your parents?” Nina asked.

“Never, honestly, at least like that,” He nodded, “We don’t have any drama. But like, I guess what I mean is that, now as they’ve been forced to work more from here and not been able to travel as much, they’re so much less stressed and not overcompensating all the time…and I like that they’re home.”

“Of course you do.”

“I might even believe that they could soon be recovering workaholics,” Gastón continued, “And…Luna’s situation is not ideal in the slightest, but Mom and Dad were never meant to be one and done parents. They absolutely didn’t want to be but were forced to. Now that they have someone else dividing and redirecting that energy, it is helping them immensely. It is not all directed at me, which is actually really nice, because it could get a little overwhelming.”

“Not just anyone would be able to look after a child not their own so naturally.” Nina noted, “Luna’s also easy to love, but it is admirable. My parents weren’t able to take care of one kid, their own, me, together. I guess the fact that they barely could stand each other factors into it heavily, but that’s like the opposite of your parents. They can’t keep their eyes off each other.”

“Like I can’t keep my eyes off you,” Gastón brushed some hair out of her face. “I guess it is a family trait.”

They lied in comfortable silence for a while.

“Are you cold?” Nina ran her hand on his forearm. “I can grab a blanket…”

“I’m okay. Don’t worry.” Gastón laughed slightly as Nina started getting up from the bed.

“I’m gonna soon respond the same way your dad did,” She shook her head. “I’m gonna worry, especially when you tell me not to.”

“Okay, okay,” Gastón relented, “I’m not okay, but the only one who can tell how I am feeling is me too. So, you need to believe me as well. I’m not cold and that would be a fever symptom.”

“I’m sorry,” Nina sat back down on the bed next to his head and ran her fingers through his hair, “I just… I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you. I love you and I’m gonna worry about you. I never thought this could even be possible.”

“You need to give yourself some credit. I’m the one who had to chase you down.” Gastón looked up at her. This wasn’t the first time the thought of how beautiful a ring would look on her finger had crossed his mind. He was turning 18 next week, so obviously it was an absolutely loco of a thought, but God, he loved her. There were no limits or rules on love, but he would need to tough it out for at least a few years, before making that dream a reality.

“Gastón?” Suddenly there was a knock on the door and his mother’s voice, “Can we come in?”

“Sure.” Gastón pushed himself up more in a sitting position as his parents came through the door.

“Don’t. You don’t need to get up.”

“I’m not on bed rest,” He shook his head, “I read the doctor's note too. Anyways, what is it?”

“This was in the post.” Isla handed Gastón an brown envelope that had the crest of the Pontifical Catholic University of Argentina printed on it. He had applied to a few universities in Buenos Aires during the fall after deciding that he didn’t want to go to Oxford. He had completely forgotten about that during all the mayhem and that responses would actually start coming at some point.

“These come in post?” He turned it in his hands.

“Apparently from UCA they do.” Marco responded. “It’s still pretty early for acceptance letters for most universities.”

“It could be a rejection,” Gastón shook his head, “Those are probably easy to pump out.”

“Stop that. You don’t know before you open it.” Nina placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Okay.” Gastón shook his head again and ripped the envelope open. The letter was a few pages long. On the top of the first page there was the crest of the university again. The actual text started below it…

We are pleased to extend you an official offer of admission to the Class of 2022 at Pontifical Catholic University of Argentina in the faculty of Exact Sciences and Engineering…

“I got in.”

“That’s amazing!” Nina hugged him tightly and kissed him on the cheek. Gastón clearly wasn’t satisfied with that as he turned his head and lifted her chin so he could softly kiss her on the lips. Nina forgot at that moment that they were literally in front of his parents, but she didn’t really care.

“We are so proud of you.” But they still were there. “Not exactly surprised, you are so smart. We always had that faith in you. UCA is a good school.”

“But it’s not Oxford.” Gastón rolled his eyes.

“I thought we already had this conversation?” Marco looked at him.

“I guess we did,” Gastón sighed. “Tell me something. Would you even let me go?”

“Honest answer?” Isla tightened her grip on Marco’s hand as they glanced at each other. “It is always going to be your choice, but with everything that has happened, it would be extremely hard for us if you were across the ocean.”

“Well, it is a good thing that I don’t want to go.”

***

Luna groaned as she stared at the exercise sheet. Her head was completely swimming, and all the numbers were just looking like blobs. She was never going to get this.

Blake was not going to let it slide, she was sure of it. Luna couldn’t even blame her concentration struggles on the effects of the fire, because it had happened over a month ago.

SHE JUST DIDN’T GET MATH. These stupid numbers were standing in between her and the Roda Fest, which was the only thing she wanted to focus on. Skating was the one thing that had stayed constant in her life, and she needed it more than ever right now.

Luna blew air out of her mouth and threw her pencil across the living room. Instead of landing on the floor it landed in a vase next to the TV.

“Ups.” Luna got up from the couch and started fishing the pencil out, careful not to disturb the giant and gorgeous bouquet of sunflowers.

Marco had brought them to Isla last Sunday. Apparently, it was some sort of tradition they had going on for over 20 years and had something to do with the first rays of the summer sun.

Well, Luna thought it was extremely romantic. Sunflowers had some sort of a special meaning for them, when it came to love. Luna didn’t know what, but she maybe should ask Nina.

Luna quickly realized that she didn’t even know how long Isla and Marco had been married. Gastón was 18 years old, so longer than that…but technically that wasn’t guaranteed.

Anyways. Luna got her pencil out of the water and sat back down on the couch.

Nope, the numbers had not started to make any sense in the meantime.

“¡Esto es imposible!” She wanted to pull her hair out.

“What is?”

“Oh sorry.” Luna spun her head around and saw Marco standing next to the piano. “I didn’t mean to yell. Did I interrupt something?”

“That’s not important.” He walked closer. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just trying to do my homework,” Luna shook her head. “And I don’t get it, which is gonna put me in danger of failing the year… Again.”

“Well, you clearly didn’t fail last year.” Marco had walked around the couch and was standing next to Luna now.

“I almost did.” Luna huffed, “I lost my final project on top of a van.”

“What?”

“Seriously,” Luna nodded, “I was in a hurry and placed my laptop on top of a van and when I turned around it was gone. I never got it back and had to write the whole thing again. I did pass, in the end.”

“Okay,” Marco looked a little confused as he sat next to her. “You might wanna keep your computer in your bag, so you avoid that.”

“I learned my lesson.”

“So, are these differential derivatives that you are having trouble with?” Marco looked at Luna’s math sheets.

“Yeah,” Luna leaned back on the couch.

“You are taught to use the formula?”

“I think so…” Luna leafed through her math book. “It’s the thing with the lime or was it limena…? I don’t know.”

“Limit. They are called limits.” Marco responded.

“Yeah, but I still don’t get it,” Luna shook her head, “Nina has tried to teach me in like a thousand different ways.”

“You know that I work in finance and economics?” Marco asked her.

“Yeah.”

“Well, derivatives, bounds, terraces in flow diagrams are all the baseline of my job. We use calculators nowadays, but we didn’t have those in the start of the 21st century.”

“I’d love a calculator.” Luna remarked, “So you probably know how to do these really well.”

“Yes, given I’ve made my whole career on them,” Marco nodded, “but I can tell you a secret. I don’t actually understand that formula either.”

“Then how do you do it then?” Luna asked, extremely confused now. If a professional didn’t know how to use the freaking formula that she was supposed to learn, then how was she supposed to do it?

“There is another way to do it in practice.” Marco explained, “The schools teach the formula, which is the academic and “proper” way to do it with proofs and literature and all, it really works for people who think very academically. You seem to think on your feet a lot, so a more practical approach might work. See, if you just look at this one: The x is to the fourth power, so if you derive it, you just take the power, so four and it becomes the coefficient, and the power gets reduced by one. So, this would become four times x to the power of three. Do you understand?”

“Maybe,” Luna looked at her paper again and took her pencil in her hand, “So, you just take the smaller number that is in the corner and put it in the front, and then just the upper one becomes smaller?”

Luna drew the new equation on the paper and looked at Marco who nodded.

“That is exactly how you can think that. That is correct what you just did there. The answer is exactly the same as it would be with the formula, just with fewer steps.”

“Can’t believe it,” Luna did another problem. “How can you just understand it like that? It’s so much more easier.”

“Isla actually likes to say that I make numbers look like art,” Marco smiled slightly, “I don’t personally understand that, but she’s usually right and I am not good at arguing with her. Has she done your hair again?”

“Oh yeah,” Luna nodded while running her hand on what Isla had called something along the lines of three-way four-strand dragon braid. “It’s really pretty.”

“She has a magical eye for beauty. Has that effect in everything she touches, at least for as long as I have known her.”

“How did you meet?” Luna asked. She was actually genuinely quite curious.

“University, 1996 to be exact.” Marco answered. “I majored in Economics and Business Administration, she did marketing. Both of our classes for the masters took place at the same campus, and part of her studies she had to complete a few photography courses that I was taking for fun. She needed some help with those and that's how our paths crossed. Two years later, we didn’t really celebrate our graduations, we got married. The saying that you meet the love of your life when you least expect it is actually very true. That is the bare bones of it, ask later when there is more time and the two of us. I don’t even know all of it. You should finish your homework.”

“Okay,” Luna turned back to her math problems and again to her surprise, actually managed to complete all of them, within 15 minutes.

She had to tell Nina, so she grabbed her phone and was about to text her when her phone screen froze.

“Ugh, not again.” Luna groaned and tapped the screen again, to somehow revive it.

“What?” Marco had been writing some email on his phone.

“This has nothing to do with math,” Luna shook her head, “My phone’s lagging. I don’t know why.”

“Can I see it?” Luna handed her phone to him. “How old is this?”

“Two years, I think.” Luna responded.

“Then it definitely shouldn't just randomly freeze.” Marco looked at the phone.

“I mean, I don’t know, but it has started doing that a lot recently. Almost like it has gotten worse.” Luna continued. “Out of nowhere.”

“My wild guess would be smoke damage.”

“Smoke damage?” Luna asked, confused. “How does that work?”

“Smoke particles can clog internal components of electronics.” Marco went to grab a tablet from a shelf in the living room. “It very well could be it, given the fire and that the issue has just gotten progressively worse. What model is that?”

“I don’t know.” Luna shook her head.

“Okay,” The phone had stopped freezing, so Marco opened some sort of tab on it, “Galaxy J2. It’s an Android so you probably don’t want to change that. They probably don’t make that size anymore.” He took his own phone out and handed it to Luna, “Hold this. Is this sort of a size too big for you.”

“Yeah,” Luna held the phone, a little bit confused about what was going on. “My fingers can’t even reach the buttons. What are you doing?”

“Well, you can't have a malfunctioning phone. It is only gonna get worse.” Marco took his phone back from Luna, while typing something on the tablet. “Okay, this is the Note 8, which is a tad bit bigger than what you have now.”

“I’m going to Matteo’s. Don’t wait on me for dinner.” Gastón walked down the stairs at that moment.

“Wait, Gastón,” Marco stopped him. “Does your phone work?”

“Not a random question at all, Dad,” Gastón looked at them, “but now that you mention it, it has been kind of lagging. I should probably boot the hard drive or something—”

“You should have said. If both of yours are doing the same thing, then it definitely is smoke damage.” Marco noted.

“Smoke damage?” Gastón scrunched his eyebrows. “Okay, that would actually make sense.”

“Order a new one. Today.” Marco told him. “Get an X at least, but get in a delivery today, so it comes tomorrow at the latest.”

“Okay.” Gastón nodded and walked out of the door.

“Wait, is that what you're doing?” Luna asked as Marco had turned back to his tablet, “Getting me a new phone?”

“I can repeat myself. You can’t have one that doesn’t work. That is dangerous. So would this be okay?” He showed Luna a model on the tablet.

“Uh, sure.” Luna responded. She knew nothing about phone models and things were happening fast. Luna never realized that buying phones was this easy of a process…or it was with people with money.

The more comfortable Luna got with the whole situation, the more she kept forgetting that Isla and Marco in fact were millionaires and on top of their game with their careers. Luna had been expecting at the start that they’d hire replacements for Mom and Dad, but that had not happened. No one seemed to be bothered one bit that they didn’t have staff anymore.

“Good.” Marco nodded, “So it is the Note 8. You can look for some cases for it yourself, because you probably know better what you want on that front. You’ll get it tomorrow. Your old one will hopefully work for another 12 hours.”

“Okay,” Luna nodded. “Thank you—”

Isla walked out of the hallway to the living room, looking really annoyed.

“What’s wrong?” Marco turned his attention to her at once.

“The call I had with CICSA was supposed to last maybe an hour. A very simple job, but they are apparently determined to make it as difficult as possible.”

“Surely nothing you can’t handle.” He responded to her with a very affectionate tone.

“No, but they’re really pushing it.” Isla shook her head. She wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and buried her face on his shoulder for a moment. “The contract has to now go through some other administrator branch, which is completely unnecessary. They are just messing things up and making it a hundred times more complicated. Who knows how long this will take now. Threw all of my plans out of order for today, because I very well couldn’t tell them that the call needed to be finished because I was late for my hair appointment. There would have gone all of my professional reputation down the train, but it was very tempting.”

“They don’t know what’s coming for them if they don’t start to be cooperate.”

“They definitely don’t,” Isla laughed, “I got a message out to Larol that I need to delay that appointment. It was possible, because I’m not getting dye or anything, just a cut. I do need to be careful, because anything close to shoulder length makes me look—”

“You don’t look old.”

“And you’re biased. Anyway, what were you talking about here?”

“It looks like their phones have suffered some smoke damage, effects of which are only coming apparent now.” Marco explained.

“Really?” Isla raised her head, concerned look in her face. “Good thing you caught that, before they leave for Cancun and everything.”

“It is,” They turned to look at Luna, who had been gathering her math papers. “Remember, if you need something, you can say it.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” She nodded.

“Speaking off, before your trip and everything, do you want any clothes?” Isla asked.

“Uh, I am not sure.” Luna shook her head. That was not something she had ever thought of.

“Think about it. It’s better to handle those things now than in two weeks' time when you're literally leaving and busy with that.”

“I guess,” Luna shrugged, “but I am terrible at shopping.”

“You want help?” Isla looked at the clock on the wall, “I’m just leaving for my hair appointment which won’t take long, so how about you come with me, and we’ll get some clothes for you afterwards.”

“Uhm, sure.” Luna responded. “Why not?”

“If you’re all ready to go, we can leave now.”

“Okay.” Luna got up from the couch.

“I honestly don’t really believe that anyone can be “good” or “bad” at shopping.” Isla said as Luna followed her to the garage. “It is not like it’s an art or a competition. Everyone has a different eye, but in the end they’re just clothes.”

“Maybe, but I’ve gotten a bunch of weird looks on how I dress.” Luna remarked.

“I think the way you dress is adorable,” Isla said as she pressed the car key and lights flickered on the car at the far left, the light blue car.

Luna had never ridden on that before, Gastón drove that black one when they went to school. When Luna had been driven to the prison and stuff it had usually been the dark blue car, which Marco was often driving even if Isla was with them. Obviously, she knew how to drive too. She was an adult after all.

“It is always nice to see color in kids your age. Some try to dress way too grown up. I used to be a talented drifter when I was younger and we had no money to go around, but some of those choices were a bit questionable. That was also the 80s and 90s, so everything was a tad bit questionable. The only thing I can truly not question that came from the 90s was my choice of husband.”

***

“Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho.” Juliana counted out steps while standing on the side of the rink, “Around, together, lift and stop.”

The team of Jam and Roller took the final pose on their choreography.

“Okay, well done everyone!” Julina nodded her head in approval, “I have to say, I wasn’t 100 % sure we would be able to pull this off. Some of the reasons obviously haven’t been your fault, so I won’t say another word about those. I am glad that everyone is okay. but right now I an say that, I think we are truly ready for the Roda Fest.”

Gastón was standing next to Matteo, who lightly patted his back as Juliana spoke. He had managed to get back into practice after a few weeks, and his arm had healed so no lifts had needed to be cut, although it had required a few extra training sessions into some late hours. Delfi, surprisingly, had been extremely patient with it, which was surprising in itself. Miracles could truly happen, and Pedro clearly was having a good influence on that. Anyways, they were in great shape now and ready to take Cancun by storm.

“Okay, I’ll see you all here tomorrow at 8:00 am sharp. So, everyone will be here on time, with all of your personal documents, luggage and NO ONE WILL BE LATE. If you are, you’ll be left behind.” Juliana eyed everyone in the team. “And please have your passports in order. Once we get to the airport, we are going to be in a time crunch. At Cancun we have a strict schedule.”

“Oh, you’d think we are joining the army.” Ramiro joked, “We are gonna kick some Slider butt, but can’t we also have fun?”

“There is time for that, but we need to take this seriously,” Juliana gave him a death glare. “Now, all of you need to go home and pack. Make sure that your skates are in your carry on. You cannot lose them, because there is no magical Skate Machine that will make you new skates.”

“Yes sir!” Simon made a mock salute.

“I will ignore that for now,” Juliana smiled slightly. “Go to sleep early. See you tomorrow.”

“Wait, guys, before you go. Come here.” Luna stopped everyone, “Do you guys understand? We are seriously gonna be going to the finale at Roda Fest!!! We’ve been through a lot as a team, and we have made it. It’s finally here!!”

“Bring it in here!” Ramiro threw his hand into the center of the circle, “We are gonna go, and we’re gonna show everyone, and we are gonna win.”

“FOR JAM AND ROLLER!!!” The team joined hands and threw them to the sky.

***

“Luna, how many different neon tops are you planning on taking?” Nina sat on Luna's bed while she was throwing clothes on the floor.

“I don’t know,” Luna shook her head. “All of them.”

“We’ll be there for two weeks, not moving permanently.” Nina noted. “Hey look, I’ll teach you a technique that Mom taught me. Count the days we’ll be away and pick an outfit for each one. Then divide the days by three and take that number of extra outfits. So, you need about 18 different outfits.”

“That is a lot,” Luna blobbed to sit down on the floor, “Hey, you sure you have time to help me with this? Won’t Gastón miss you?”

“I think he’ll survive if I help you for an hour,” Nina laughed, “It is all so much easier now that I can let myself in, almost like I am part of the family.”

“I mean you are,” Luna remarked, “I think everyone agrees here on that.”

“Hopefully someday officially.” Nina smiled as she looked down at a pile of Luna’s clothes. “What’s this one?” She held up a white skirt with a bunch of colorful flowers.

“Oh, Isla bought that for me,” Luna responded, “It’s really pretty.”

“It is.” Nina nodded, “If it was her, then I am not surprised. She has amazing taste.”

“Hey girls,” Isla walked into the room, “Everything okay here?”

“Yeah, we’re just packing,” Luna turned around from her closet, “Or trying…”

“I can see that.” Isla looked at all of the clothes on the floor. “You have everything else clear for the trip?”

“We’re taking the bus from Roller in the morning to the airport and flying to Cancun from there on a flight that departs at 10:25 am.” Nina read off her tablet.

“It is good that we can always trust you to be on top of things, Nina.” Isla smiled at her. “Are you staying for dinner, or do you need to go pack your own things?”

“I packed yesterday actually,” Nina explained, “Mom would nag at me all the time, if I hadn’t.”

“That sounds like Ana.” Isla nodded, “Okay, the reason why I actually came here was this.”

She handed Luna a plastic folder.

“What is it?” Luna asked, confused, “I already made sure 1000 times that I have my passport.” She pointed to her nightstand, where she had marked an area with her beads to hold that passport.

“More of a precaution,” Isla explained. “One of our friends is a social worker, so he gave us a few pointers on what we should be aware of as we are looking after you. It’s just a letter of consent that Marco and I signed that you are allowed to travel outside of the country without a guardian as a minor. It shouldn't be necessary as you aren’t in foster care and the custody agreement Alexei drew up is ironclad. It is just in case you run into some sort of issue.”

“Thanks.” Luna nodded.

“Are you excited to go?”

“Yeah of course I am!” Luna jumped up in the air. “I miss Mexico so much!”

“It is a good thing you have things to look forward to.” Isla smiled, “Well, I’ll leave you girls to it.”

“I haven’t really mentioned this, but it is really great how well you really get along,” Nina pointed out after Isla had gone.

“I mean yeah,” Luna smiled, “They’re really nice, you were right about that when you first told me and I was all freaked out.”

“They are.” Nina nodded.

“You know, it’s kind of weird that they don’t have more kids,” Luna pondered out loud while folding a shirt into the suitcase. “Because they’re really good at this.”

“You don’t know?” Nina dropped the socks she was rolling and looked at Luna.

“Know what?” Luna questioned.

“Isla and Marco can’t have children.” Nina said, looking at Luna.

“Wait what?” Luna looked even more confused now, “How does that even make sense? Gastón’s not adopted, is he? He’s—”

“He looks exactly like his father, and the golden streak in his eyes is from his mother. He also has the best qualities from both of them. Of course he is not.” Nina shook her head, “That’s not what I meant. I said it badly.”

“Then what did you mean?” Luna looked still extremely confused. “So, they had a kid and then couldn’t anymore?”

“When Gastón was one or so, Isla had some sort of serious medical complication. That was when they still lived in Cordoba. She had to have a hysterectomy, or she could have died.”

“Wow, that’s awful.” Luna sat on the bed. “How do you know this?”

“They told me.” Nina said simply, “I don’t think it’s a secret and they seem to have made peace with it, but it must have been devastating at the time. They were 24. One of the reasons that fueled their ambition to get where they are today and give Gastón a much better life. It’s not exactly a topic to be had over dinner or something so it probably just hasn’t come up.”

“I can’t even imagine going through something like that,” Luna sat back on the floor while sorting her suitcase, “I mean, it kind of sounds like Mom and Dad. They weren’t able to have kids, but then they adopted me. They left everything behind too, to give me a better education, even if it was after Senora Sharon.”

“That’s probably why you get along so well.” Nina noted.

{}

Well, look at that. We are back, because I write what I want whever I want. Not a lot of actually happened in this part (I had to split it because it was getting so long), but sometimes I nice to just breathe for a moment. Last part literally had a fire, so we dealt with the last of that aftermath and did some character interraction develobment. More often that not in the media, the Dad is often left as the least develobed charcter with least amouth of charcter building and interractions...We'll not in my house. Dads are important, even if the child is a girl. Also Luna learned some math in the process, and that was actually how I was tuagh to do deritaves, intead of the weird formula. Also, golden retriever husband energy, because Gastón absolutely has that in his gene pool. The way I determine is that he got his sentiviness, calming precese and artistic traits from his dad, while the headstrongness, sociability and chamingess from his mom. Something I live by while writing is that: normalize married couples being in love and acting accordingly, no matter how old (40 also isn't old in the slightest). Small public service anoucements here: I ahve actually written some original material about Isla and Marco specifically. Littel bit a stuff when they were 20, those afformentioned uni years. I am not gonna release that at that moment, because it is in my native language and because I've submited it into couple writing competitions. I'll uptate you on if some judge board declares that I am actually a good writer. Okay, next... Simon...We will talk about him little later, shall we. On the next part. We are going somewhere with this, I promise. Finally, again I am trying portray here that Luna is progressively getting more comfortable with the situation, that she's not the staff's daughter anymore, but basically family member. She's casually hanging in the living room while doing her homework and she doesn't call Isla and Marco "Gastón's parents" anymore.

#Soy Luna #soy luna fanfiction #Gastina #Lutteo #Soy Luna Season 2 #Gastteo #Au #Twist #This was just a stupid idea #But I am rolling with it #And having fun #and it's getting unhinged #because it has a plot now

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chxrryrose · 1 month

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just trying to release my thoughts so i can relax before i sleep lol sorry for clogging up the dash xxxx

the first time my mum had cancer she waited 2 months for her first surgery. she then had another surgery to remove her lymph nodes as there was a micro metastasis. she spent 5 years ‘cancer free’ where her check ups consisted merely of her skin being looked at and if nothing looked off she was fine. not a single scan. she then died 10 days after finding out she had terminal cancer, because she was rushed to the hospital with a brain bleed which was a met in her brain bleeding because the cancer had come back and was literally everywhere in every organ when they found it. my dads mate had throat cancer and one of his check ups was basically open wide and say ‘ah’ until he put his foot down and asked for a proper check. another mate had skin cancer and his check up consisted of being asked if he’d noticed anything off, they didn’t check his skin at all.

so sorry if i don’t find the kate or charles’ cancer diagnoses as moving as everyone else and their ‘preventative measures’ and ‘immediate treatment’ and ‘time away to relax and recover’ in one of their many palaces leave a bitter taste in my mouth because barely anybody else is afforded that same luxury and it’s so bitterly unfair. they (and the many blindly loyal royalists and british media) think this shows them as normal people because ‘cancer doesn’t discriminate’ and yeah maybe it doesn’t but even in sickness and health and life and death they do not understand that they will never be equal and they will never know how it feels to be a normal person with cancer.

#maybe this makes me heartless idk but i just can’t feel the same sympathy as for the average person #it’s been 3 months exactly since mum died and yeah this whole situation is just making me feel some sorta way

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twilightknight17 · 3 months

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Today on P3R, a long update: Another full moon, KIDS IN THE WALLS!, actual consequences for shit teachers, and new abilities!

It is interesting to see that the number of Lost standing around increases over the leadup to the full moon. And other people are noticing.

We haven’t been able to talk to Fuuka yet, either, even though she supposedly has potential.

A girl passed out at the front gate of the school, and now rumors are running rampant because people think it’s a ghost. Junpei has the details, so, over to you, Junpei!

After a riveting story, Yukari refuses to believe it’s a ghost, so she wants to spend the week collecting information. Ughhhhhhhhh. Yukari, I have social links to do. Please. Don’t do this to me.

I’m already getting woken up at ungodly hours when we’re not even in Tartarus.

Baby boy, I expected you a lot closer to after we fought the Priestess. I’ve been so busy.

Pharos is just here to inform us that doom is once again a week away. He’s promised to come visit after again, though, so we’ll see how that goes. XD

Returning to school, Mr. Ekoda is off on a tangent about ghosts and spooky shit in his walls.

Still no teaching happening in this school.

I went out with Chihiro, the student council’s treasurer, and found out that the reason she’s so wary around guys is because her dad is a “very scary person”. She’s apparently away from him now, but oh my GOD. Can we get one visible, functional parent in this series other than Sojiro Sakura? I’m trying to think of any now, and my list is like… Sojiro, Zenkichi, Maki and Masao’s moms, and…?????

Another school day, and I guess we should finally go hang out with Kenji. He says he only needs a few minutes of my time.

Of course, as soon as I got there, he asked me to wait a minute, because…

Jesus christ, dude.

…..jesus christ, Ms. Kanou. You’re the ETHICS TEACHER.

Fine, Kenji. Fine. Go ahead. Do whatever. It’s cool. I am just vibing here until I can go home and watch TV.

Trish is hosting “Who’s Who?” and talking about a notable 20-year-old therapist with a beauty mark. This has to be a rerun, because Maki was 20 in P2, which was ten years ago. But then again, Featherman is all reruns, so… makes sense.

So, after combining what we know about all the various ghost stories, we’ve determined that all three girls who ended up in the hospital were friends. They also all hung out in that sketchy alley behind Port Island Station, where the bar and stuff are.

Yukari wants to go back there and investigate. Junpei is less than thrilled. He keeps insisting it’s a bad idea. I’m inclined to agree.

Yukari says she’s more afraid of stuff she can’t see. Junpei counters that he’s more afraid of things he can see. Like knives. And bats. But Yukari doesn’t listen, and just says that if it’s so “dangerous”, all the better that all three of us go.

Yukari, I’m gonna miss Featherman while you’re busy getting us killed.

Things immediately go bad, as they immediately peg us for Gekkoukan students and tell us to leave. Junpei wants to leave, and Yukari immediately says the wrong thing.

Like, how do you not have the situational awareness to know that that’s the worst possible thing you could have said? Thank goodness Shinji is around to save our asses.

Though, Yukari still doesn’t want to leave without information. Shinji tells her that the three girls spent their time bragging about bullying Fuuka Yamagishi, who has been out of school for almost a week at this point. Which means our next step, after getting home safe, is to ask her teachers what happened to her.

...Junpei has a point, Yukari. My god. You can’t yell at Junpei for running off on the monorail and then just charge into a sketchy area with no weapons or plan. Ugh. Over the weekend, I need a break. I found a wild Ken hanging out at the shrine on Sunday with Yukari and Junpei. Apparently they know him. But I am spending the day playing more of my MMO.

School on Monday is great, though, because people are finally grasping that their actions have consequences!

Fuuka is trapped in Tartarus because of her idiot “friends”. And her teacher has been covering it up.

She's gonna execute you~~

It’s been ten days since Fuuka vanished. Normally, spending that long in Tartarus, someone would definitely be dead. But since Tartarus only exists in the Dark Hour, Fuuka’s only been gone ten hours, from her perspective. So we have the chance to go in and get her back. Minato, Akihiko, and Junpei are going to wait in the gym for the hour to change, and hope that we end up near where Fuuka is.

Natsuki is going to stay in the dorm, where she’ll be safe. But she’s… apparently awake during the Dark Hour without exploding?

We probably should have brought her, because she’s on her way here. And letting the school shift around us ended up with all of us separated.

I really wish I wasn’t, babe.

Pharos says we’re going to need Fuuka’s power to deal with what’s ahead. And then heads off again, because god forbid he come with me to find the others. XDDD But eventually, Minato manages to track down both Akihiko and Junpei, and Fuuka.

She’s understandably freaked out. But she’s got navi powers that have kept her safe, and they’re stronger than Mitsuru’s. Akihiko’s not making a strong case for getting her on our side, though, just handing over an evoker with no explanation.

Together, we all manage to puzzle out that these big giant shadows are showing up on the full moons, but we don’t really have time for more than the actual revelation, because it’s full moon right now, and Mitsuru and Yukari are in trouble in the lobby.

Fuuka awakens her persona to protect both us and Natsuki, who wandered into Tartarus, and with it the ability to scan for weaknesses. Which is good, because the Emperor and Empress keep switching affinities. Plus, Lucia is cool. ^_^

Anyway, Natsuki isn’t going to remember any of this, fortunately, and Fuuka is safe. So we can go back to our usual days at school.

...I… hm. Well, it didn’t kill me, and I got a point of courage, but it didn’t seem to do anything else. So. Okay. X’D

The history teacher blitzed past two more periods of history in his quest to reach the Sengoku period so he can talk about samurai. Yuko’s got past beef with a girl who I think has Makoto’s voice actress. Apparently they dated the same guy in middle school, and Yuko got blamed even though it was the guy who was two-timing them.

Apparently I just have a face that says, “Tell me your deepest secrets.” This is like the fourth person.

All of my friends text like freaks. Except Akihiko.

I was having a half-decent time with the Gourmet King. Kind of. But then he had to get all weird on me, because he was jealous that some girl asking him who I was instead of asking him out. This guy, like everyone else, has problems. And part of it is that he’s covering up his problems with food.

And, uh, whatever this is.

Pharos came back a lot sooner this time!

I’ve wanted to be your friend this whole time, idjit. Social link, goooooo~

Man, you didn’t even have a name until right now. You poor thing.

Off to see the Gourmet King again the next day because he’s the only link ready to rank up, and that guy is back again to complain at him. Apparently GK took money from an elementary schooler that was supposed to go towards cram school and the guy wants it back. GK volunteered me as his bodyguard, and is being weird again.

...is he SERIOUSLY in a cult??? Do we need a cult on top of everything else?

Ikutsuki calls us up for a meeting, and he has new gear for us! This must be a new scene, because we’re finally getting the new uniforms from the trailer! We’re all fancy now, and apparently the shoulder guards unlock a new skill called “theurgy”. Which is our individual special attacks! We took a special trip into Tartarus for a scripted thing to try them out, and I only got to see Yukari’s, but it was super-cool. She did the archery pose like Feather Pink. ^_^

And we all got to do the badass walk into Tartarus in our new gear.

Lastly, at the end of this long marathon play session……

Elizabeth is still the best of my friends.

#Li plays P3Re #how are my most well-adjusted non-teammate friends the Velvet attendant and the kid that wakes me up at midnight?#the Gourmet King's link is legit making me kind of uncomfortable #not in a bad way just in a like ''holy shit we're going here'' kind of way

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daechwitatamic · 2 years

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Say the Right Thing || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Complete Faith

POV Drabble #1: Say the Right Thing

@kookstempo - here's the break-up from Tae's point of view! I hope you like it!!!! I'm also going to do Tae post-break-up since that's technically more what you asked for lol and the recital too :)

WC: 1,400

Rating/Warnings: strong language only, angst

The worst days of Taehyung's life have all revolved around his mother.

Now, don’t misunderstand. He loves his mother. She’s strong, with a big heart. It isn’t her fault.

It isn’t her fault that her brain declared its own neurological pathways Enemy #1. It’s not her fault that her brain decided that eating holes in itself was the best line of defense.

It isn’t her fault. But it’s still true. The worst days of his life have all been caused by his mother’s MS.

It’s better now than it was when he was a kid. He has more control over the situation, a little more agency. He gets to be involved in the helping; when he was small, he helped by staying out of the way.

This attack is bad. He can tell from day one. It’s been years since she’s had her whole side go numb, years since he's had to help her wash her hair in the kitchen sink, years since he's had to sit by her side at the hospital while the IV steroids run.

It seems like it’s going that way again.

He's exhausted.

She’s exhausted.

His dad is exhausted.

And his girlfriend decided that now would be a great time to reconcile with her ex. Because he definitely has the brainpower and emotional energy to wade through that bullshit.

You two have barely talked the whole week, and he knows that’s mostly on him. He knows you're waiting for an answer, he knows you're connecting the dots from your emotionally unavailable ex to him. He knows you're jumping to conclusions.

He just doesn't have the energy to engage. You don't know he spent the day listening to his mother cry through the pain. You don't know he's been wrung out to empty worrying if this will be the time that his mother doesn’t get feeling back when the attack passes, if this will be the attack that leaves her blind or unable to walk without aid.

You don't know. And that’s not your fault, either. Because he didn’t tell you any of it.

Which is why you're here, staring at him across his small balcony, your face drawn and her eyes tight.

“I know it’s been shitty for both of us since last week,” he tells you, and you nod silently. He's hoping you'll say something like, yes, missing you this week was hard, or maybe even ask him how it was hard for him - give him the opening to share what’s been happening.

You say nothing, so Taehyung presses forward. He feels like he's trying to tell you what he needs - ask me, ask me what’s been going on, I’ll tell you if you just ask -

“I know I wasn’t… extremely forthcoming about what was happening at my parents’ house,” he says. He pauses. Still nothing. Fine then. Time to address the bigger issue: your little excursion with your ex. “But I feel like you took that kind of personally and… acted out.”

He waits, silent, not sure if you'll deny this, or argue, maybe even shout at him.

You lick your lips, eyes flicking to your feet and then back to Taehyung. You look almost… ashamed.

Finally, you say, “It’s felt like this for me: it’s like your active life is this box, right?” You make a box in the air in front of you. Your face is calm, your voice even. You're working just as hard as he is to do this rationally, to keep calm and logical. “And you picked me up and placed me to the side of the box, and you wanted me to just wait there until you were ready for me again.” You falter then, hunting for words, and Taehyung's stomach twists with a jolt of anger. He knows where this is going to go. “It just… I don’t… Tae, I’ve done that before, remember? I can’t do it again.”

He does remember. And that is not what happened here. He didn’t check out on you for weeks at a time, he didn’t string you along for months while barely giving a shit, he didn’t show up and give a half-assed effort to win you back every time you tried to stick up for yourself. Yet here you are, punishing him for someone else's sins.

“This is not the same as what happened with Ben,” he tells you, leaning forward to peer at your face, to see if you're understanding him. You press your lips together tightly and drop your gaze. That spark of anger flares in the pit of his stomach again. “I knew that’s what was going on with you! Do you not see how this is different? You knew what was happening with me. You knew it was going to be kind of different and you couldn’t just hang on for a literal week, Y/N-.”

He knows he's ranting, he can hear the edge in his voice, but he can’t stop. This is literally the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to him-

“Did I, though?” you interject. “Did I know it was a week because of whatever was going on that you wouldn’t talk to me about, or did I just have to take that on faith? Aren’t you the one who gave me shit for staying in relationships where I’m being ignored?”

Taehyung sits up. Did you… not believe him? This whole week, as he'd been taking care of his mother - cooking meals, cleaning up, listening to her cry in pain, spending hours on hold with her neuro - had his girlfriend been doubting the reason for his absence?

“So, was that the problem?” he asks, voice low. He feels like he's starting to see this whole situation very differently. “You didn’t believe me that things were only a little off because of my mom? You didn’t trust me that we’d be right back to normal once my dad got back?”

You didn’t trust him? You didn’t think he'd come back, that things would be normal again?

“I didn’t know what to think,” you say slowly. “You weren’t answering my texts or calls… it just felt so familiar…”

What had he ever done to make you doubt him?

But he knows the answer. It isn’t about him at all.

Again: unfair.

When he's able to speak, when he's able to say something that isn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty, he tells you, “If at this point you legitimately don’t trust me… then what are you even doing? Why are you even here?”

It’s a challenge, but it’s a question, too. He really wants to know. Do you even have an answer? You just stare at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

Say the right thing, he wants to beg her - the girl he's loved silently for at least a year now. Tell me you’re sorry, tell me you trust me, tell me it was a mistake to doubt me.

You do the fucking opposite. Your brows furrow, mouth twists, and you sneer, “Right on schedule, right, Taehyung? Did we make it a whole seven weeks?”

It would’ve hurt less if you'd slapped him. He'd told you once that he thought he was broken, and you're throwing it in his face. You'd picked him up, turned him over, eyed all his cracks and mars, and tossed him back on the shelf.

He points a finger at you, anger flaring beyond the point of being tempered. “Don’t you fucking dare. I’m in this. You’re the one who’s been holding back, you’re the one acting like you can slow it down if you dig your heels in hard enough.”

“That isn’t true,” you say, shaking your head, your hair swinging.

But it is. You both know it.

“Then ask yourself –.” He pauses, redirects - “No, fuck that, I am asking you: do you think we can make it?” You watch her, eyes hard. “If your answer isn’t immediately, unequivocally yes, then you might as well just leave.”

He wills himself to feel nothing when you stand up, as you cross his apartment, as you closes the front door behind yourself with a definitive bang.

He drops his head into his hands. Beside him, forgotten, his phone rings with an incoming call.

Mom.

Thank you for reading!

#Complete Faith fic #taehyung drabble #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #daechwitatamic drabbles

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jalapenobee · 2 years

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No what-if’s

Let me ask you a question. If you had a bowl of chewy pasta drowned in watery cheese like passengers on the Titanic, would you eat it? What if the bowl was only warm? What if there’s an overwhelming smell of Clorox and rubbing alcohol that's making you lose your appetite? No? Good.

Keith’s thoughts exactly. Although he’d already eaten half of it, so not exactly. But very close.

He fidgeted in the scratchy, over-bleached hospital sheets and lifted a cautious spoon of “mac and cheese” to his mouth. Disgusting. But it’s food, so might as well swallow. Besides, it’s not like it’s going to make him throw up later. Not like that at all. He’s got other things to worry about.

Ring-ring, ring.

He looked up from the half eaten, half inedible food, annoyed and confused as to where the buzzing sound was coming from. His eyes rested on his ringing phone, which was sitting on a side table that had been pushed over next to his bed. He sighed, picking up the call and putting whoever it was on speakerphone.

“Hello?” The word was slightly slurred from the hospital mac n’ cheese. Keith set that aside for when the call was over.

“Hey, it’s Lance.”

“Oh hey Lance. You’re on speaker, by the way.”

“Alright. I just left my house, I’ll be at the hospital in half an hour.”

“Okay, cool. You better be wearing a sweater though, it’s raining.”

“Um… I’m not?”

“Go back and put one on. It’s cold.”

“I’ll be fine, Keith. I’m practically immune to rain and cold weather.”

“Lemme tell you a story, Lance. Once upon a time there was a president. He was only president for 30 days. Know why? Because he gave the longest speech ever in cold weather without a proper jacket. He got pneumonia and died.”

“How does that relate to this?”

“Put on a sweater or else you’ll get pneumonia!”

“I won’t get pneumonia, relax.”

Keith scrunched his nose and channeled his inner Shiro. “Go. Back.”

“Fiiiine. But don’t ever use Shiro’s dad voice again.”

“No promises.” Definitely no promises.

Lance huffed and hung up the phone. Keith was right, it was kind of cold. His fingers felt numb and shook slightly as he fumbled with his keys to unlock the door to his family’s house. Veronica gave him a weird look as he stepped inside.

“I thought you just left?”

“Yeah, but it’s still raining so Keith’s making me wear a sweater.”

She nodded, amusing herself with the thought of her confident, loud brother being so submissive to Keith. Bonus points to Keith for being smaller than Lance. “Figured.”

After getting one of his brother’s sweaters from the coat rack, Lance headed back out, sending a quick text to Keith as he got in the car, which he also “borrowed” from his brother.

they-call-him-the-tailor: i got a sweater, leaving now

do-you-know-the-mullet-man: okay, see you soon

pidgeon-of-the-sky: keep the pda off the group chat

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

To be honest, Lance hated the hospital.

He hated the crying, sobbing, wailing noises from all floors, signifying a death. He hated the doctors with emotionless faces and tired eyes. He hated its aura, the stiff, cold, empty, one slicked in sanitizer and medicine. He hated that there were people there, some fighting for their lives, and he hated that there were people who gave up trying. What he hated the most was all the illnesses, attacking people who he believed didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t fair.

But nothing’s ever fair. Lance figured that Keith knew that firsthand.

Even so, he’d live at the hospital for that mullet.

After ten minutes spent walking through dim hallways and sidestepping masked doctors with stern faces, Lance finally stood in front of the door. Room 246. Finally, it's like the one room Lance always struggles to find. It might as well be moving across the hospital. That’s a possibility.

Anyway, Lance knocked on the door and listened until he heard a voice say, “come in.”

He could see Keith waiting for him as he pushed the door open, sitting upright on the hospital bed with an empty bowl beside him. He’d have to remember to take that to the cafeteria when he left if no one else did.

“Hey, doing okay?”

Keith nodded and managed a small smile through chapped lips. “Yeah. What about you? Are you still wet from when you didn’t have a sweater?”

“Nah, I’m dry now. What did the doctors say about the tests?”

“The results came back pretty good. The therapy is working, but really slowly and only a little bit.”

Lance walked over to Keith’s bed and sat near the edge of it. “That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah.”

The two sat in silence for a minute before Lance realized they’d been sitting in silence. Even though he was the chatterbox, Keith usually started the conversation. He squinted at him now, trying to catch his eye, but Keith was too busy staring off into space. Yup, something was wrong. The question leaked out of Lance’s mouth before he could stop himself.

“Is everything okay?”

Keith’s head snapped up to see Lance’s eyes locking with his.

“Lance. Look around. Hospital. Boyfriend with lung cancer. Who’s about to hurl quote-on-quote mac and cheese in two hours. Do you think everything’s okay? Are you seriously asking me if everything’s okay?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Other than all that.”

Keith hummed an assurance that came out a little more strained than he liked.

Which wasn’t enough for Lance. “Are you sure the test results are good?”

Keith sighed and flopped back on his bed. No use denying anything now. “The test results are fine. But I’ve been here for a year and a half now. Is there really… any chance that I’m going to… survive?”

“Of course there is.” Lance scooted closer to Keith. “Don’t think like that. You’re going to live. You’ll be fine.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut and forced them open again in an attempt to subdue the tears he felt coming. “But what if- what if I don’t make it?” His voice was cracking and reduced to a whisper. He kept his eyes on the ceiling above him.

“No, no, no, no, no. I know you. You're strong. You’re going to make it.” Lance moved forward and cupped Keith’s face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. “No what ifs, okay?”

He planted a soft kiss on Keith’s forehead.

“Okay.”

“No what ifs.”

1,095 words

#I’ve been thinking of this for a while so I wrote it hehe #my fics #voltron keith #voltron lance #hospital vibes #angst but fluff ig #hey this is the first angst ive written cool #except it ends all fluffy

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smtzakii · 6 months

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Life’s Sorrow *༄

It was a peaceful 6:09 am when my dad rushed and knocked on my door, waiting for me to come with them to the hospital because my sister had a tummy ache just by eating a fast food chain. We were panicking as we packed our things, we were in panic, perspiring profusely, and our hearts were pounding. When we got there, they assisted us and brought my sister to the ER and checked her blood, temperature, tested her urine and injected things for pain reliever. The only people in there were my dad, my sister, and I. It was an extremely stressful two hours spent alone in the room, hoping and praying that everything would turn out just fine, but it doesn’t end here.

I left the room to get food and water for us to drink when I noticed something. There once this one patient, sitting outside, waiting for his turn to be checked and by seeing his foot being injured, having an accident and no one is helping and assisting them. I felt bad and worried as I see and hear his wife begging and crying for help to the nurses’ as I passed through the hallway. There is no available room for him to be treated and it was absurd. When I got back to our designated room, my mom arrived from a night shift work and saw her caressed my sister’s hair.

As I eat my food near the door and the door is left opened, I saw the man on the emergency bed, the nurse's were rushing because the patient can’t really handle the pain that time, and hearing him screaming pass through our room saying “wag mo muna ako kunin”. I felt a strange feeling, a sense of feeling scared because even tho he’s just a stranger, I still do care about what is happening to them. I saw his foot, thinking it was very painful and it's bloody. As they passed through our room, I saw those blood dripping on the floor and this scene keeps on playing in my head. I was bothered, nervous, and anxious about the blood left on the floor. I was overthinking as i felt my chest tightening. I became dizzy, having a blurry vision, my eyes were twitching and keeps on closing, and that blood on the floor was just the only thing in my head and it keeps repeating as I passed out. I passed out and the only thing and only sense i’m hearing is my mom and dad’s voice saying that I should wake up. I can feel them moving my body, and the voices I hear were just something like you’re about to cry, panicking and all.

My lips were white, my body turned all white, having no strength to move and all. I actually passed out twice that day, my blood pressure drops suddenly in response to the stress of seeing blood, which causes my heart to slow and prevents the brain from receiving enough oxygen-rich blood. This in turn leads to fainting. Also learned that day that my heart is weak, i get tired quickly, and discovered that i can’t do things like sports, anything that is related to exhaustion, tiredness and loss of strength. To end this short essay, still very thankful and grateful because i’m still alive and living. The most tragic story of my life, passing out just by seeing a blood.

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bitchwork · 1 year

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lucky me, lucky mud

It came on suddenly on Wednesday afternoon, and by the evening my fever was 103°. Feeling just truly awful, I called my mom to complain and was told by both her and our longtime family friend Alison that I should go to urgent care, and then once we realized urgent care was closed, the emergency room. Alison – tall, uncompromising, fiercely loving, stubborn as hell -- had spent the last two years being treated for metastatic lung cancer, but was calling the fight. My mom was spending a few nights with her in the lead up to her “final exit” on Saturday when she would end her life via a fatal dose of prescribed medication thanks to Washington's Death with Dignity Act.

My mom, Alison, and her beloved daughter Alyssia making frittata in our old house (2010)

Despite being a nurse and therefore a person who had spent her life ministering to the needs of strangers, Alison had refused to hire a caregiver. She hated the idea of a stranger in her house messing things up, and much preferred the idea of her friends and family doing the messing. And her loved ones had stepped up, caring for her in shifts all the way to the end, despite the fact that all along there had been the means to hire help. Many people wouldn’t have the guts to test their friends like this, especially at the end, but Alison was brave like that.

Sometimes my dad and I challenge each other to imagine what it might be like to be dead forever, and there’s this vertiginous drop and then a feeling of waking up and I know I have failed. We move on to other topics. My dad has told me that even though he has terminal cancer he can’t really fathom the fact that he will die much more than I can. It’s basically impossible to understand the concept of being dead forever. As Joseph Campbell said, “Eternity isn’t some later time. Eternity isn’t even a long time. Eternity has nothing to do with time.” It would be like a fetus trying to understand what it is to be born.

Something else that’s non-linear is fever. 103° is uncomfortably hot. It’s the point that you start putting towels dipped in ice water on your body even though this too feels awful because you’re achy and somehow also freezing. It’s only three degrees hotter than 100° but that’s a lot if you consider there’s only like seven degrees between fine and dead.

I didn’t know which hospitals in the city took my extremely “boutique” kinda-Cigna-kinda-not PPO plan and attempts to log in to my “provider finder” kept coming back with a wrong username or password message. I was feeling bad enough that I knew if I didn’t do this right now, I would just lie down and hope for the best, so I picked the nearest ER and called an Uber.

It was an unseasonably warm night, and the waiting room was crowded but hushed. The ED experience itself was truly not bad, and I spent most of the four hours I was there in my own watching Nightmare on Elm Street. Everyone was extremely friendly. The doctor even made me feel like I wasn’t an idiot for coming in, saying she’d had several strong women, ER nurses even, felled similarly by what turned out to be the virus that causes the common cold. Our immune systems over-reacting after several years of coddling. By midnight my temperature was down to 99°, and I was ready to go. Hours later, it had climbed back to 103°. It cycled like that for the next 36 hours.

On Friday, my mom told me that Alison had looked at her and said in awe and not quite belief, “This is my last day on Earth,” which rocked me more than learning the news of her death the next day would. Probably I could comprehend the concept of her last day on Earth, but not her actually dying. You think when it happens you will understand it to be true, but then it’s just like everything else: not what you hoped for or despaired over and in fact something else entirely.

Speaking of courage in the face of extreme adversity, I mustered the strength to call my insurance and find out if the hospital I went to was in network. The call is answered by Christopher, who refers to himself as a concierge. He assures me that no, the hospital I went to is not covered. When I sputter that other hospitals in the same hospital chain are covered, he explains that just because two hospitals are part of the same organization does not mean they take the same insurance since each individual site apparently contracts with insurance based on its own personal preferences. You can be sure this is the case because if it’s asinine, opaque, and cruel it’s the American healthcare system.

I started to cry imagining how many thousands of dollars my little sojourn had cost me and for what? Nothing had really been done (there was also not really anything to be done). I hadn’t needed medical care so much as medical assurance that I wasn’t going to die. But at 9 o’clock at night, the ER must serve both functions (and many more). It hadn’t turned out to be an emergency but that’s the thing about emergencies: if you wait too long to find out if it is one, it will end one way or another, and you might not like “another” and you might like “one way” even less.

As soon as I started crying something changed in Christopher and he went from being a haughty mansplainer to just a man, ie terrified of women’s tears. “No no no no no no you don’t need to cry. Oh please don’t cry…” he said. I blubbered that it was “just so complicated,” by which I meant the American Healthcare System, but he thought I meant Life.

And again Christopher cycled, becoming not just a man but the saddest man on Earth. “Ramona it’s going to be ok. I understand that life is really hard. Believe me. I cry every day. My friends are like, ‘Christopher, are you ok?’ And I tell them, ‘Every morning I wake up is a win.’ The thing is, it could be over likethat, and I’d rather have a hard life than a short one.”

He went on like this for 10 minutes, and although he clearly knew he was on a recorded line, at one point saying, “We’re your health insurance company. We want you to get the most out of your benefits,” I actually did feel better when the call was over. This might have had something to do with learning I “only” had to pay 30% on out of network ER visits (after the $1000 deductible), but it was also his earnest reminder that these days, no matter how dumb and twisted, are in no way guaranteed. It could and one day will be otherwise.

He ended the call by giving me his extension and telling me to call when I got the bill and also if I needed anything in general, “If you just need to cry that’s fine. I’ve helped members order pizza, find a lawyer. As long as it isn’t illegal, unethical or immoral I will do what I can to help you.” At this point, it was clear that Christopher was not a man terrified by women’s tears, but a man who loved tears of all kinds, and in fact required them as payment for his services.

On Saturday morning I was feeling well enough to get out, and took a long walk north into Fishtown. At some point Cathy called and we chatted while I stood on the sunny sidewalk eating a free cupcake. We talked about Alison, who at that point had an hour and 15 minutes left until she was dead forever, and the Phillies, and whether we would get brunch next weekend. It’s psychotic that anyone could speak of such things – could speak period – when someone they know is about to die, but then you do it and you see how it can happen. Does happen. Everyday. How we keep living even while people die forever.

Cathy had just come back from a trip to Seattle where she had stayed with my dad while my mom came to visit me in Philadelphia. She said it was a highlight of her year. Spending time with my dad has always been good for that, but more generally being in the company of people who are seriously ill is often a surprisingly life-giving experience. You trip back over the threshold, relieved. The sun is out. A store that sells $40 candles is opening down the block.

Eternity unreels, but not yet for me.

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alongpause · 2 years

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It is April 1, 2020. The entire world has shut down.

Well, not the entire world. Hospitals and grocery stores, they're still open. Pharmacies and anything deemed "essential", they're still open.

The rest of us are locked in our houses. When I do leave the house, it's only a quick shift out in the night to grab what I can, and I avoid everyone. It feels like a horror movie. Grab what you need. Some things that you want, if you can fucking manage. Don't touch anyone.

The loudspeaker in the small store stops playing music to let a soothing, feminine voice tell us the new rules of our world. Maintain a six foot distance. Only leave your house when you have to. Wash your hands. Wash your hands. Wash your fucking hands.

Don't leave your God damn house, motherfucker. You'll catch your death and you'll give it to someone else at the same time.

My sister works as a nurse in the ICU. It has now been deemed "the COVID Unit" because they're only treating patients there who tested positive for Coronavirus.

The number of cases keeps rising. Feels like just yesterday it was 4, and today it's 900 and something. And that's just in Alabama.

People are dying, genuinely, and I know people die from any illness, honestly. Flu season never leaves without claiming a life. But the news is jaded about flu deaths. They're old news. They cycle back every single year.

Coronavirus has no season, no locality. It is worldwide. Everyone is watching. Everyone is looking at the number of confirmed cases and related deaths as it ticks higher and higher.

It's a fucking horror movie.

I'm fine. My seasonal allergies are acting up, but that's the most I can complain about, physically. Mom and Dad have been working from home for just over two weeks. We've been playing games and watching movies together. I don't think I've spent this much time with them in my entire life.

We're having fun.

I hate it. I hate it because now I know they could be like this all the time, could have been my whole life, and they aren't any they weren't. It makes it hard to just sit back and enjoy what's happening.

That and the fact that memory is such a fickle thing. Bad things grow larger and more detailed over time, and all I can do is sit and think of times when I was smiling and I thought we were okay, and then everything in the air shifted, and someone snapped.

Someone snapped down on me.

I feel like a shelter dog. Like I left my old owners, they used to kick me, and I have these nice, new people, but my ears still twitch when they move a certain way, have a certain tone, when I can sense the little changes in the atmosphere. Waiting for the boot.

Everything is empty. The mall, the highways, the airports, my fucking soul… Empty. I miss other people so bad that I hardly know what I'm doing when I see them. The muscle memory to shake a hand, to hug someone, anything, it's all betrayal. It all has to be repressed. Flickers of accidental contact are sacred, savored, and terrifying all at the same time. You have to go home and wash them off, scrub, scrub, scrub, so no one knows.

Now the whole world knows what I felt like when I used to kiss him.

Oh, how jealous I am of people with partners. I just want someone to hold me. To talk to me. Someone who really loves me and doesn't scare me and likes to be around me and chooses to be around me.

The other day, my neighbors were congregated in a large circle outside. Everyone arms length apart, unless they were with their spouse, in which case, two people were huddled together away from the rest.

They were all just talking. Some of them had their dogs with them, on short leashes. Dogs can get the virus, too.

I see little kids out with their parents and I wonder what this is like for them. Their spring break just keeps going, but they can't go see Grandma, or play with their friends. They have to stay with their mom, who is wearing a mask over her mouth, and their father, who is diligently waiting to push his wife and child out of the way if anyone ventures too close.

We're all nice, we're all friendly, we're all scared of each other.

I assumed my neighborhood was only elderly white people, because that is what's on my cul-de-sac, but I see families with small children out, now. Teenagers typing on their phones as they trail behind their parents. None of them are white.

We're all stuck here together and finding out who we really live with. What our community really is. How limited perception can be.

There is a game now, something someone thought of that just caught on, something to put a smile on other people's faces in this hard time when we can barely even be there for each other.

Put a teddy bear in your window.

People who know about the game count points for every teddy bear they see when they're out for a walk, or a drive. Other people just see a strange trend and smile.

I brought four stuffed animals to my father and asked him to pick the one he thought represented our family best. He told me to put all four in the window.

There is a character from a Disney film, a dog, a raccoon, and a sock monkey. I think it is a nice variety. I think there is something for everyone, in that selection.

My mother informs me that when they came back from their daily walk yesterday evening, a child was excitedly pointing the toys out to his parents.

And this makes me happy.

Those are my toys and I have no room to display them, they're not first-draft picks, they're bench-warmers. They were just sitting in a large bag in my closet. Now they're on display and they're making people happy and that's so simple and so sweet.

So beautiful that something I was taking completely for granted is helping to brighten someone else's day. I think I'll tell my parents we should put different toys on rotation. The same neighbors will pass again, after all.

The quarantine keeps getting extended. End of March. End of April. Indefinite.

That's the worst one. Schrödinger's infinity. Indefinitely. Until further notice. Until otherwise stated. TBA. TBD. N/A. Who's to fucking say?

It's April 1st. I've never been big into April Fool's Day. I have a few good ideas from seeing videos on the internet. Everyone's been so bored, stuck at home, that it's basically been April Fool's Day for the past two weeks.

I don't know that my parents would appreciate a prank very much. As much as anyone healthy hates to admit it, right now, stress levels are incredibly high.

We're all so tender, just walking bruises, and people like me, we can't even talk to our therapists about it.

I could call her on the phone, but I know that if I do, I have to sit in the closet or in my car, or some place cramped and strange like that, so that we maintain the privacy we usually have, and I don't think I can manage it. I think I would cry. I think that would make me feel like the world is really ending.

Some people feel that way and I know why, but I can't. It won't settle into my mind. There is a determined and blind optimism that I'm not sure I ever knew I had, and it has sealed the exit, no doubt can sleep in, we will not succumb. We will overcome. This will end. I will live to see the end.

I've always been such a personal defeatist, but my faith in humans, in humanity, is shocking me. My faith in myself, growing as I realize I'm just as entitled to the faith I give others simply by their merit of being human? Once an impossible dream, now I realize at least part of me believed all along that I can make it.

Especially this time. Stay home. Stay home. I can do that. I can manage that. I always do that. In fact, I think I'm going outside more now than usual.

It's strange the way one reacts to a situation. If you had told me I'd have to stay at home with my parents for over a month and not see any of my friends, not see my therapist, nothing, I would have told you I wouldn't make it through the third week. I would have told you that I wouldn't shower or go outside once, that I'd pay in bed the whole day, and I'd pick up the knife again and keep cutting and cutting 'til I whittled myself down to the bone and then, finally, it'd be too much. And I'd snap the bones.

But I've been showering more than usual. Probably because Mom is around and she is not quiet about how I look or smell. I've started taking showers without prompting or scolinding, just to avoid it. Suddenly, the look on her face is worse than the shower itself. It has not been that way as far back as I can remember.

I seamlessly faded from the phase of not wanting to bathe because I was a child, to dreading breathing because being naked was unbearable on several thousand levels. And it's gotten worse in the new house, because the bathroom doesn't feel private enough. There used to be two doors between me and the hallway. A whole room between me and the hallway. Now there's barely enough room for a toilet and sink between me and the rest of the world, and the lock doesn't feel strong enough.

A lot of people in my living situation wouldn't even bother with the lock. Two other residents, my parents, and they have their own bathroom. My father has never even been in the bathroom I use. But still I lock the door. I'm not stupid enough to trust the thin red line of blood relations as a taboo that will keep me safe. Not anymore.

And all this and more happening in my personal world, four rooms, two bathrooms, a screened in porch, a one car garage, a partially finished attic, a backyard accidently fenced in because the people on every side have built fences. (I guess that makes our yard fenced out?).

Inside that there are three people, three infinite universes of electrical currents, composed of carbon. And all around us the world is shut down.

Disney World shut its gates, and the photos are eerie. Empty Disney is something we only imagined in apocalyptic sci-fi, and even then, we were optimistic enough to believe deranged scavengers would be there, living off the canned food.

To think I was there 6 months ago and it was full of life and energy and motion and emotion, every fucking human emotion possible, and now there's nothing. I wonder how the geese are doing.

What are they doing without popcorn and bread and anything someone feels like throwing or dropping? How are they fairing without the easy pickings of thousands of people's discarded food available at every moment? They're been there for decades, generations, do they know what it's like to be geese anymore? Do they know they're geese? Can geese born and raised in Disney World even communicate with other geese, or have they, like humans in a community, slowly mutated their language over time into something that can not be understood even by members of the same species?

Why do I give a fuck about the geese?

#obviously this is old #i probably need to edit it but i like the raw stream of conciousness

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ellaintrigue · 2 years

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Death 2

Mom with her terminally ill mare Ginger, March 2022.

Mom stayed settled on the couch the rest of the day as we waited for dad to get home from work. After changing her clothes she was able to be in a sitting position for the first time since yesterday and I handed her water every time she asked, which was often. I kept asking if she needed to use the bathroom because I did not know at that point that barely urinating was part of the final stages of her body shutting down.

That is where we had our last full conversation, where she was mostly coherent. We had a good talk and I felt at ease for the first time since early yesterday. We even laughed together and she looked like her usual self for a moment, in her favorite red sweater.

Then the hallucinations started in. She was getting tired and I got ready to do chores for her and wander around outside since she seemed okay enough for that, then she looked at me. And she brought her hands up and gestured, and said, "you have flies all over your face." There were no flies in the house and nothing on my face. I told her it was okay and she just said, "oh" and faded out. I let her sleep the rest of the morning.

I was starting to get very anxious at this point then finally a hospice nurse showed up, rather unexpectedly, which was fine. They discussed meds and made a list of hospice equipment to order, including a bed, since she was clearly now limited to the downstairs. Finally the nurse stepped outside to leave and I asked her, are the blindness and hallucinations from the meds or the cancer? I know she's dying, but...

The nurse then told me what no doctors had told us. "Your mother has cancerous fluid on her brain from her kidney tumors. That is why she is seeing things and in and out of it." I thanked her profusely. It wasn't gratitude so much as I NEEDED TO KNOW what the hell was going on. Please, if I am 12, don't tell me the graphic details. But I am 32 and I am on the battlefield here, keep me informed.

That upset me but by the time 4:00 rolled around, mom asked me to make soup. She even wrote it down how she wanted it, even though I make my own leftover chicken soup with Old Bay. That was the last time she ever wrote her normal cursive.

She died a week later. Shortly after I left her side she began coughing up blood so we considered it a mercy no matter how much we wanted to hold onto hope. When dad went to move the furniture back around after they took the hospice bed away he found a notebook with her last words in it. She wrote that we were loyal to her and that she didn't want to wake us up every time she was in pain so she lay there and just wrote.

People think that I always have to be right and that I'm a know-it-all but often times I wish I was wrong about things. Every one of the dog pads I gave her ended up used and even the bedding had to be destroyed. It is not about material things but the fact that such a beautiful person who lived a clean life and tried to do right could die in such a horrific manner. There is no justice in nature.

My mother's death broke my heart like no man ever could. I want to end this piece of writing with something else though.

I took mom to her last doctor's visit with my loyal cousin in tow, before things worsened. But before that, what I consider her last trip out with me, was when we went to the drug store and she wanted me to stop by a swamp on the back road. And she showed me rare trees that got planted centuries ago but never spread. And we went on a little walk and did some shopping.

On the way home we passed a frail black man on a bike with a little trailer full of cans. He was not an unfamiliar sight, he was a deaf local who came from Haiti and spent all day every day picking up cans alongside the road. He even got hit by a car once and went right back at it after he got out of the hospital. Before mom got sick she would stop next to him and hand him money. Not out of pity or social obligation but because she thought he was wonderful for helping the environment. He lived with family and had a place to go home to. He may not have been financially stable but he was out there each day, picking up cans because that is what he wanted to do. This tiny man pedaled for miles and just happened to end up on mom's isolated road. She smiled and she waved.

She said, "oh, I don't think he can see me." But good recognizes good. She sat down when we got back and went through a flower catalog and said, "there is so much beauty in nature. More than we can ever comprehend.

On the very last ride she ever had, the day we went to the doctor, she was in so much pain. And we went by the can man again and she smiled at him. He was one of the last people she saw and I will think of her whenever I see him. I too may have to stop and see him one day. Because the world lacks beautiful and kind people already and it just lost one.

1950-2022

#Death #Cancer #Heartbreak

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takeeachdayonebookatatime · 2 years

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Caskett fanfiction

Staring the cast of Castle

Why did you elbow me? Part 12. The cold/bronchitis.

Castle: pov At 8 For dinner Kate had some soup. Me and Lanie had some sandwiches while Kate ate her food then she fell asleep. We also went to sleep, her fever broke sometime in the night. In the morning she was switched to a regular room. Once she was settled Kate did her nebulizer treatment. The setting on the oxygen machine was set on a lower setting to see how she can handle it.

Kate: pov I nurse brought in some oatmeal in the morning for me to eat. I have been feeling better since my fever broke last night. Lanie and Castle chatted while we ate. They both had an egg sandwich for breakfast. My Dr told me he wanted to take me for scans to see how my lungs were. 30 minutes later and I was taken to the scan room I was transferred to the table and the scan was started.

Lanie: pov Kate returned from her scans. Dr Jeff said everything was heading in the right direction. He said her oxygen intake is looking good. He would like to see how she does with no oxygen for an hour or 2 and if all goes well she can be off it for good. I helped her to the bathroom so she could shower. There was a shower chair in the bathroom for Kate which made it easy for her. I got her changed while the nurse brought in her lunch. It was some yummy looking soup, she still had a cough. Me and Castle had a chicken sandwich which he ran and got for us. After she was done the nurse took her tray, and came back with her nebulizer treatment. She did this for 30 minutes, I asked her how she felt and she said better since the fever is gone. Plus I can breathe way better. Kate's oxygen numbers were good enough that she did not need the oxygen. Her Dr pulled me aside and said if she does well the rest of the day with no oxygen I will release her tomorrow or the next day. There will be some stuff she has to take home with her like the nebulizer and an inhaler for emergencies. The nebulizer, she has to do it. 4 times a day for a few days.

Castle: pov Once Lanie arrived back in the room we took Kate for a walk around the hospital she did great on the walk. Me and Lanie were holding her up the whole way so she did not fall over. Kate told us how much it means to her that we dropped what we were doing to stay with her while she is sick. I leaned over and squeezed her hand lightly. Kate spent some time on her phone while Lanie updated her father on the phone. She was due for her next nebulizer treatment, Kate was starting to be a pro at it. After her 30 minutes were up a nurse came in with some dinner that looked like pasta salad. We had the same thing for dinner. I had told Martha and Alexis not to come over because we might be getting out tomorrow. A movie was playing on TV that seemed interesting. It was called. It's a mad mad world. I mentioned what you would do if you found some money. Kate and Lanie both said hand it over to the police. It's not ours and not worth going to jail over. A nurse named Kay walked quietly into the room to start Kate's nebulizer treatment. Once she was done kay came back to unplug the machine. It was a long movie but it was so worth it. Kate fell asleep towards the end. The whole movie was amazing and funny, since the movie was over. Kate was still getting her meds regularly. Me and Lanie went to sleep.

Kate: pov In the morning at 6 I got up to pee, when I was done I went back to sleep until 7. A nurse came in and gave me my meds, when I was awake she came to do my nebulizer treatment. I was starting to get used to it but could not wait for the day it was over. Lanie said my dad texted her at 6 saying he was thinking about coming down since he had 2 day off from work and she said to him "it was fine" I was a little upset at first but once she said he was so worried about not being able to be here with me. I changed my mind. Lanie told me he would get here around dinner and I was supposed to be released around lunch time. I took a short nap. Just before lunch I was given my second nebulizer treatment. The Dr came and went over symptoms to look out for, when to take my meds and how many times to do my nebulizer. He also talked about dangerous symptoms that meant I should go to the Er immediately. For lunch I was having chicken and vegetable soup. It tasted okay for hospital food. The Dr said I did great with my oxygen all night. He and Lanie talked in the hallway for a bit while I waited for my release/discharge papers.

Lanie: pov by 1:00 we made it to the loft. We drove through the drive through to pick up Kate's meds. Once home Castle helped Kate to bed for a nap while she slept. He ran to the store. I had made him a list of things Kate Would need. I talked with Martha while he was gone. Alexis was back at school. I helped Castle unload the Groceries. I saw he had some drink mixes in the cabinet. He said someone at school gave them to Alexis and said they tasted amazing. She spent the whole night up so he will not be letting her drink that. At night again.

Castle: pov I unloaded the groceries then straightened up a little and got the guest room ready for Jim which only took a few minutes. The closet in the hallway near our bedroom was loaded with medical supplies from all of the times Kate was injured. I went and grabbed my computer so I could write while Kate watched some TV. Lanie had some messages to reply to. Niki heat was about to bust in on Mob boss and murderer Tip Tear who may be an alien looking to probe your mind he is known for planting mind controlling devices in his patients by drilling into their skulls. He had just grabbed a drill and started drilling into Chester bre's skull, his next victim the sounds of drilling filled the room until it got deathly quiet. He had just drilled through the skull bone exposing Chester bre's brain. The device was sitting on the table ready to be implanted. when Niki heat busted in guns blazing shouting put your hands up and walk away from the table. Should the medics rush Chester bre to a hospital and should he survive. Maybe I should make Tip Tear a vampire instead. Never mind.. Mind control is way cooler. I can't forget Rook who was taking notes for his next book.To be continued…...

#books #reader #read #reading #bookreviewer #betareader #fanfiction #castle #tvshow

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jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook and @onherwings for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.

Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.

College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.

But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.

“What if we, like, had sex?”

Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.

After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”

“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.

Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”

You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”

“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”

“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”

“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”

“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”

The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.

Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.

“But it’s not like you’re any better.”

This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”

“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”

Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.

“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”

A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”

“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”

A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.

“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”

You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.

The cons? He’s your best friend.

The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.

Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.

“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”

“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”

“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”

“It’s true though.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”

“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”

But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”

As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”

“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”

“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?

You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.

“Y/N…”

The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.

“Touch me?”

Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.

Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.

“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”

But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”

“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.

You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.

“Like this?” You rasp.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”

“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.

“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”

He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?

He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.

“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.

The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.

“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”

And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.

But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.

So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.

A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?

Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.

“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.

Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.

You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.

“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”

More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”

“Want a minute?”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.

“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”

Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.

“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”

“Rules.”

“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”

Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”

“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”

“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”

“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”

“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”

Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”

Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”

Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”

“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”

“Yup.”

“Who have sex from time to time.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”

“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.

“We might?”

“No, we definitely won’t.”

Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.

After all, what are best friends for?

So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.

A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.

It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).

But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.

It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.

Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”

There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).

But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.

As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.

“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”

“You know him?”

“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”

You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, why would I be jealous?”

You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.

So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”

“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”

Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.

It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.

“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”

“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”

Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”

Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.

“Jungkook━!”

He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.

“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”

The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.

Fuck it, you cave.

You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.

“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”

That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.

“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”

Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.

“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.

You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.

“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.

From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.

bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??

You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.

That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.

Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”

The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.

“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”

The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”

“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.

From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.

send n00ds?

miss ur tits :(

Typical Jungkook.

The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”

“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”

“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”

You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?

You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.

But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.

You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”

“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”

Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.

It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.

“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.

Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.

“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”

“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.

“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.

“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”

He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.

At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”

Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”

“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”

“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”

“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”

You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.

“Nngh, Jungkook━”

Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.

God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.

And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.

You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”

In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.

A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”

You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”

“Well…?”

“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”

That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”

“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”

A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.

Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.

That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.

And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.

He smiles.

The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.

For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.

“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”

Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”

“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.

You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━

It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.

“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”

“What?”

“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”

The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”

But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”

You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”

You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”

“Jungkook…”

“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”

“But you wanna.”

“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”

He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.

“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.

He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.

“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.

You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?

A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.

Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.

So then why does it feel like he is?

When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.

A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?

You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.

Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”

You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.

“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”

“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”

You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.

You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”

“And you said you didn’t want to.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”

“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”

Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”

“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”

“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”

Jungkook flinches. “I know.”

“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”

“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.

“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.

“Why?”

“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”

The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”

“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”

Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━

“No.”

“What?”

“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Me?”

The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.

Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.

It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.

Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.

Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”

Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”

Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”

Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”

You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.

“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”

“Oh, Koo…”

A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.

He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” You whine.

“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”

“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”

“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.

“Yeah,” You mewl.

“What do you want from me?”

“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.

He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.

“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”

You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.

So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.

“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”

He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.

“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”

With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.

A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”

“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”

A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.

“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”

“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”

“No,” You croak.

You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.

“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”

“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”

“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”

His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.

Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”

You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”

“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.

Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”

“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”

Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”

Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.

“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”

As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”

You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.

When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.

It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.

“Jungkook.”

He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”

A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”

“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”

It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”

Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”

His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”

“But?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”

So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.

It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.

Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━

“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”

The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.

“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”

He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”

You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”

“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.

A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”

Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.

Because he wants it all with you.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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humansofnewyork · 3 years

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“My mom said: ‘Val has something to say to you.’ I was sitting on the stairwell, crying. And he knew right away that I was pregnant. He didn’t yell. He didn’t say anything. He just started pacing. But I knew what he was thinking: I was eighteen years old, I was his only daughter, and he thought that having a child would ruin my life. When he finally stopped pacing, he told me: you can either get an abortion or leave the house. I knew then that I’d be entirely on my own. I started saving money from each paycheck to spend on clothing and supplies. But I had no idea what I was going to do when the baby came. My father wasn’t speaking to me. There was no eye contact. No nothing. Not that he’d ever been good at expressing his emotions. His mother had died when he was a baby. He’d had a tough life. From the outside like he didn’t care, but my mother told me that he was crying himself to sleep every night. After a few weeks he began to soften. He asked to see the sonogram. It wasn’t exactly a celebration, but at least he asked to see it. On the day of my C-section, dad spent that day drinking alone, which he rarely did. He was pretty drunk by the time I left for the hospital. He didn’t say a thing. My mom just looked at him and shook her head. But I was in the hospital for five days after my son was born, and every day my dad would visit. He’d bring us food. He’d hold my son for hours at a time. And when I came back home, there was a letter waiting for me on my bed. I’ve only read it twice in my life. Because it makes me cry too much. But he apologized for his behavior. And he said that we were going to be fine. My son is eight years old now. And whenever it’s Father’s Day at school, he brings home art for Papa. The two of them are inseparable. They’re always playing something. My son is always giving him hugs, and kisses, and saying ‘I love you.’ And Papa says it back. It’s the only time he ever says it to anyone. With my son he has no choice. It’s not in Papa’s nature to be affectionate. But it’s my son’s nature. He’s so open and natural with his emotions. He’ll give love for no reason at all, and his Papa has no choice but to accept it.”

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johnsamericano · 3 years

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𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥 •3•

I hope this ain't getting shitty. Thank you for reading, sexy people. Send me a message or an ask if you'd like to be added to the tag list.

warnings: hungover jaehyun, age gap, hospitals, nothing too extreme.

sugar rush m.list.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv @sunny-nyu @nanascupid @silent-potato @painted-hills

Yoonoh woke up on a strange bed, the mattress stiffer than the one he had back home. He refused to open his eyes, fearing that the daylight would worsen his headache.

“Wake up, sunshine.” He groaned, all the memories from the past night hitting him like a truck. “Come on, I made breakfast.”

His eyelids finally fluttered open, frown softening at the sight of you in a messy bun and your cute pajamas.

“How come you look so fresh?” The dark circles under his eyes had deepened in the span of a few hours. Thank God he didn't have to work that day.

“I always look fresh.” You seemed to be more comfortable around him. Perhaps it was because you had to tuck him in last night. “Up.”

You tugged both of his limp hands, forcing him to sit up.

“What did you cook? It smells nice.” He scrunched up his nose like a little kid.

“Eggs, bacon, and hash browns.” Fast as lightning, he got up from bed. On his way to the kitchen, he noticed the blanket hanging from the edge of your sofa. Disappointment pinched his heart.

“Why didn't you sleep with me? You would've been more comfortable.”

You set two plates on the small table, pulling the pan out of the stove to serve them.

“You spread yourself all over the bed as soon as I laid you down.” You lied successfully. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you weren’t that comfortable yet.

You let the pan down on the kitchen counter, taking a seat in front of him.

“Do you still want to visit my father?” Sparkling orbs stared at him timidly, fearing his answer would be negative.

“I mean…” You hummed, trying not to give it as much importance. “I do want to go!” He quickly corrected himself, frantically shaking his hands. “It’s just that I don't want to meet your father like this.” He pointed at his bed hair, which had only become messier since he woke up.

“You’re acting like he's gonna see you.” There was a slight bitterness in your tone, along with a fake grin.

“Alright, let's do this instead...” Yoonoh sat up straight, clearing his throat as if he were about to give a speech. “We’ll have breakfast, you'll shower quickly, and then we’ll drive to my house so I can fix myself. How does that sound?”

“So I'm finally gonna see your mansion? How exciting.” You kicked his leg teasingly under the table, his cheeks inevitably dipping as he tried to suppress a smile. “I bet you have some peacocks in your backyard.”

“And there's also a dolphin in my pool.” He let out a hearty laugh, extending his arm over the table to grab your hand.

His house was most definitely not what you expected.

It was about the size of the one you grew up in, the decoration inside minimalistic. There were no expensive paintings framed with pure gold, only pictures of him and his family. There was a small backyard you could access through the French door in the kitchen. Half of it was occupied by a greenhouse.

“I had to donate the peacocks to the zoo.” He whispered as you looked through the glass door, squeezing your shoulders with his slim fingers.

“What a shame.” Hesitantly, he wrapped both of his limbs around your torso, letting his chin rest stop of your head. Your heartbeat was thumping loudly against your chest. Yoonoh surely felt it but decided not to comment on it.

“There’s a Tv in my room in case you want to watch something while I shower.” A hint of mischief adorned his honey-like voice. “Or you can come in and watch me instead.”

“Stop!” Your elbow connected with his ribs out of pure panic, making him bend in pain with his hands covering the injured spot.

“It was a joke...” He whispered, teeth gritting together.

I made him mad, you thought. Should you escape or face the consequences of his anger? All thoughts erased from your mind as he grabbed your calves, lifting you over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” You hit his back with closed fists, unable to see the expression on his face. “Yoonoh!”

He went up the stairs, proceeding to enter his room and throw you on his bed. Thousands of dirty scenarios crossed your mind before he threw himself on top of you, crushing your bones under his muscular body.

“My...ribs...”

“Oh, sorry, what is that?” To make matters worse, his fingers tickled your sides, provoking a fit of desperate giggles to escape your mouth. “I’m not hearing an apology.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” His hands finally stopped, giving you time to breathe. Nonetheless, he remained laid on your chest, using his forearms to lift his weight. “Aren’t you gonna shower?”

“I like you.”

The confession was so sudden, so raw it took you some time to finally react. But you had no words to give him an answer, instead, you combed your fingers through his long hair, massaging his scalp while waiting for him to speak up again.

“I never thought I'd be feeling more than friendly affection for you. Our agreement doesn't include love, after all. But I've started feeling like a teenager all over again. I can't help but get excited whenever you call me. Do you know how sweet your voice sounds through the phone?” He sighed, discouraged at your lack of response. “I guess you're not there yet.”

Instead of verbally answering, you planted a sweet kiss on his head, right where small, grey hairs had started growing.

“I’m not good with words.”

“That’s alright.” He snuck his hands under your back, holding you tightly as a sudden need to nurture you took over him. The mature image he had of you faded in less than a second, leaving behind a young, troubled woman. “I’ll shower quickly so we can go see your pops. I bet we’ll get along just fine, maybe even go golfing when he wakes up.”

“I forgot you're almost the same age. Creepy.” He smiled, though uneasiness started steering in his guts.

“Does that bother you?” He asked without giving it a second thought.

“I don't know yet.”

(...)

The man with high cheekbones and bruised skin laid limp on the hospital bed. Yoonoh had been working on his case for about a month, yet, it only started feeling real the moment he entered the room.

“This is my dad.” All emotions had escaped your eyes as if your soul wasn't there anymore. Only an empty shell.

“You look so much like him.” he was afraid touching you wouldn't be the right thing to do, so instead, he said: “He seems like a suitable golf buddy.”

Tension finally loosened its grip around his body as you snorted, pigment returning to your cheeks. Finally, he wrapped his hand around yours.

“He will wake up, y/n.”

“He’s taking his sweet time.” You glanced back at the laying figure, skinnier with every day he spent asleep. “I want someone to pay for taking away the last person that loved me.”

The last person that loved you. Would Yoonoh be able to fill that spot? Not yet, probably. He couldn't modify the depth of his feelings, but he could surely give you the vengeance you longed.

“Do you trust me?” With your eyes still glued to your father, you nodded. “Then I can assure you we’ll win the case.”

“I know we will.”

He sat silently with you, holding your hand without saying a word. The smell of alcohol and the beeping noise of machines made him nauseous. He hated hospitals. You noticed the change in his demeanor, his hand becoming cold while holding yours with strength.

“Do you wanna go?”

“No!” He smiled through the pain, scooting his chair closer to lay your hand on his lap.

He wouldn't agree to get his ass off the plastic chair. You had to tell him you were hungry for him to finally stand up, still clutching your hand like your father did when you were still a kid. His parental behavior caused several emotions to stir inside your guts, so mixed up you couldn't quite put a finger on any of them.

“What do you want to eat?” The tension finally left his body once out of the building.

“Soup.” You smiled while swiping your thumb on top of his knuckles. “I know a place, but to be honest, it isn't good. So we can go to the store and get the ingredients to- but you can't cook.”

“I’m up for a cooking lesson if you are.” He wanted to see your pretty smile again. Maybe making a fool of himself would help. “Let’s hit the road.”

“Wow, so cool.”

“I know.”

(...)

“Can you grab that can of chicken broth?” You pointed at the high shelf, letting go of Yoonoh’s hand to allow him to move freely

“I have a better idea.” He dragged you by the arm so you were standing in front of him, trapped between his body and the shelf. “I’ll lift you so you can reach it.” Matching his words, his hands grasped your waist, ready to carry you.

“Stop!” You slapped his hands repeatedly between giggles. Ignoring your complaints, he started lifting you. “Yoonoh!”

“Yoonoh?” A feminine voice had him placing you back on your feet in less than a second.

“Seryeong, I didn't expect to see you here.” His hands remained seated on the curve of your waist.

“Neither did I. I was surprised when Sungchan told me you'd left early yesterday.” She seemed a bit older than you but still younger than the man behind you.

“I had some matters to take care of.” She eyed you from head to toes with a smug grin plastered on her lips. Just by the look of her clothes, you could tell she was as wealthy as Yoonoh. You feared the scene would turn into a tv worthy drama.

“I’ll go get the chicken breast.” You tried escaping his grip, only to be pulled closer to his warmth.

“No need to. It's already inside the cart.”

Why am I so dumb?

“Does your father know about your little girlfriend?” She asked without hesitation.

“I guess.”

“And why didn't he tell me anything?” She cocked an eyebrow, his hands finally loosening around your body and allowing you to move from your position.

“Look, this is something you should talk about with him. Now, if you excuse us...” With a hand on your shoulder, he began pushing the cart to the next aisle, the chicken broth long forgotten.

“Is this some kind of arranged marriage situation?”

“Something like that.” His hands were tense while holding the cart, knuckles turning white from the strength used. “Before you start asking, I'm not really in the mood and I don't want to direct my bad mood toward you. Let's talk about something else, alright?”

Who was that woman that had the power to turn him into a literal raging ball of fire with just a few words?

#nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct angst #nct jaehyun #nct fluff #nct jung yoonoh

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