#Anyway I really don't know how to do that

[rozenkingdom]

It is, precisely, your duty to let them Find Out.

Honestly, if you're a kid and an adult tells you "they're just trying to get a reaction out of you :)" as a response to being told that some younger kid is tormenting you, that should count as full permission to punt that little shit. Like I would never hit a child, but if you're seven years old and a five-year-old is being a cunt at you and adults just tell you "oh they just want to find out what happens if they keep doing that", wouldn't only be fair to let them know what happens if they keep doing that?

Siblings should never be left responsible of raising each other, but if adults have decided that they are allowed to fuck around, wouldn't it only be your right - or even downright duty - to let them consequently find out?

[redrage71890]

Backing Voice (Yan! KPDH x Fem! MC) Part 4

Synopsis: Sorting out ways to help Rumi's voice one day leads to the discovery of an emerging demon boy band. Their song hypnotic as they hastily gain fans all around. HUNTR/X being less than happy with the results.

Genres: Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Yandere

CW: None

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Word Count: 3.6k A/N: Hi I took a break and might have forgotten a few plot points whilst forgetting to write them down before hand :D

————————————————————

"Girls! *huff* I'm sorry I'm late! I got caught up with someone..."

Bursting through the door of the empty restaurant (Y/N) apologises first without thinking. Seeing the three girls at a small table as they long forget their food.

Zoey and Mira gleams seeing the (f/c)nette, though Rumi looks more surprised. "(Y/N)! You made it." Zoey waves at her as the manager awkwardly waves back, taking a seat in between Mira and Rumi.

"Again, I'm sorry..."

"Hey. Its alright. We haven't really started eating anyway."

"No. Its not only that. What happened during rehearsals, I didn't mean to sound mean o-or dismissive of you girls. Its just stress for me. But! I p-promise I'll be better and I'll be there to back you girls up no matter what."

(Y/N) puts on a confident smile for the girls, a fluttering sensation flowing through their hearts at the rare sight. Zoey breaks the silence by giggling at the feeling in her chest. (Y/N) not particular sure why the black-nette started giggling but joined her nonetheless.

"But. Back to before." Cutting off their giggles with a more serious expression. "I'll be honest here, its going to be hard to reschedule the live show because of the sudden cancellation."

"We got that impression from Bobby earlier..." Mira states.

"I...I'm sorry guys. My voice, its in trouble."

'Trouble? That's new.'

"Wait, in trouble? Then why did you push up the 'Golden' release?"

"Because we're so close, and its so important." Rumi states. But her tone and words made (Y/N) curiously think more.

'So close?'

"Okay, how do we handle this? What do we tell the fans? Maybe we should call Celine?"

"I don't advice that. We know what she'd say."

"Oh, right."

"We are hunters. Voices strong. Your faults and fears must never be seen."

Zoey and Mira reciting what their predecessor echoed at them. (Y/N) furrowed her brows at the phrase.

Her and her mother were never one to follow that motto. Mother in particular despising it. It being forced upon her as she tried to hide all her faults to the point of breakdowns and frustration. It always made her searing patterns appear.

"Rumi, why don't we take a break? We'll skip the Idol Awards this year and-"

"No. No way. Its our most important show. Its when we strengthen the honmoon for the entire year. We can't skip it. We just can't. Not when I'm so close."

‘Close to what? You’re not telling us something Rumi. Though….isn’t that ironic…’

What’s (Y/N) to say about secrets when she herself hasn’t been completely honest. But when has anyone ever been completely transparent. It’s not like every secret needs to be spilled just because someone wants to know. We have a right to keep things to ourselves.

Though in this case, Rumi’s secret might become a massive headache for them.

”Hey, we’ll get through this. We can get through anything. Together.” Zoey’s encouragement bringing on a slightly more relaxed expression on Rumi.

”Okay. We have two weeks to fix Rumi’s voice. Any ideas?”

”I do have one idea.”

”Just one?”

“Shoot, Zoey.”

”Okay, actually, 57, but let’s start with my favourite. Don’t worry. It’s totally legit.”

Shrugging her shoulders and leaning on her elbow against the table, (Y/N) watches the girls listen to Zoey explaining some of her ideas.

She won’t outright say it in the moment, but some of these ideas boarded along the lines of obvious scams and false promises. As much as Zoey at times annoyed (Y/N), she didn’t have the heart to tell her the likely truths.

“(Y/N), why aren’t you eating? We ordered plenty for you.” Zoey questions their manager. “O-Oh, right. Sorry I’ve been a bit lost in thought recently.” Brushing off their stares she picks up her utensils and began digging into her food.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Mira asks with a more worried frown. Zoey and Rumi holding similar expressions with more concern.

Seeing as she can’t get herself out of this conversation, she just sighed and stopped eating. “(Sigh) I’m not getting away from this, am I?” Averting her gaze up to meet the three sets of eyes on her. “Okay then. I….had another….one of my episodes. Right when Rumi left rehearsals...”

Uttering those words, the hunters all clung to her body in a tight yet comforting hug. It’s not been the first time this happened. Well. More like the third time this happened.

The first time was after their debut, a quite public breakdown occurred back stage. It was embarrassing to be seen by the staff. Her mother was the one that told the girls of her anxiety attacks.

The second was right before the tour started. The sheer amount of organising, meetings and calls she did was breaking her mind out of pure exhaustion. The girls found her hyperventilating in the bathroom on the dirty tiles with her attempted eyeliner dripping down her face.

And now, marks the third time.

Well, they technically weren’t there for this one.

A private meltdown with no one to hear or comfort her.

"Never apologise for experiencing that. We should be sorry for not being there for you." Mira gently pats her (f/c) hair.

"Please don't be afraid to come for us! We will always be there for you!" Zoey cries out clinging to her back.

"Yes, (Y/N). Let us know if anything troubles you. We'll do anything to help in anyway!" Rumi adds hugging her side.

The three hunters felt guilty for there actions. Not being there for (Y/N) hurt them. They hate seeing her so stressed. The girls really wish their lovely manager would confined in them more.

Unfortunately though, their said manager just really needed a breath of fresh air that's currently being crushed out of her lungs.

"G-Guys....y-you can let go n-now..."

————————————————————

After a big hugging session putting the four of them to sleep, the girls dressed in their best disguises and went out in the streets of Seoul. (Y/N) was glad she managed to sleep for a whole night for once. But she still wished she slept in her own bed and not on the couch with the girls.

Donning her classic baggy attire but with a cap obscuring her eyes. Ignoring the face mask as she got the feeling it wasn't necessary. Though she also remembered Jinu and his buddies putting on a show today. Just before leaving she stuffed the flyer in her pockets as a reminder.

But as of now, she follows the girls to make sure this guy Zoey recommends doesn't do anything.

Though hearing what Zoey is saying makes her want to divert them away as fast as possible.

"He's got this special tonic. Apparently, it can heal anything from sore throats to relationship problems."

'Oh you don't say!'

"Ssh! Quietly, Zoey."

"Why are there so many people today?"

(Y/N) noted how populated the area is at the moment. Of course the girls are worried about being seen and finding their disguises online. Our girl especially would rather not be seen on any post.

"Down that alleyway."

Diverging their path from the busy streets, they stood at the foot of an old hanok building refurnished to a clinic with an LED sign with the name 'Han 의원'.

'Yeah... this seems totally legit...'

"Yep, about as legit as I expected."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one thinking that." Mira smiles her way unknowingly.

"Earth and herby. Smells legit to me."

"Yay! That's the spirit! 가자 가자 가자!"

"Hurry, before someone sees us."

Entering the building the girls are greeted with the appearance of a usual doctors front desk/office. Though catching the eyes of our manager and Rumi was a wall lined with numerous signed framed pictures of the doctor and what appears to be celebrities. Seemingly other idols.

Though one picture caught her eye.

A group of four boys giving each other a back hug whilst leaning on the others shoulders, with the doctor strangely at one side gesturing to them. Those faces were oddly familiar.

Dragging her out of her head was the sound of the doctor entering. Standing up to bow and greet the doctor as he urges them to sit.

"You need no introduction. So, a problem with your voice."

"Yes. So we need one of your awesome tonics. Something that will work super fast."

"Okay, let me see."

(Y/N) automatically knew they guy ain't legit. Not bothering to do a proper examination of her throat and instead just staring at her with bulged out eyes.

"I see. I see.... No. Actually, I don't see. Very strange. You have lots of walls up."

"Whoa! He's so good, right?"

"I dunno about that Zoey..." Muttering to herself while messaging her temples.

Rumi scoffs at the comment but Mira quickly affirms that she indeed, does. Denial is not exactly on her side today.

"I'm just trying to stay focused."

"Focus is good, but focusing on one part leads to ignoring other parts, making you separated, isolated."

Her brows raised at the observation. Her own experience agrees with the statement. Mira and Zoey quickly agreeing with the doctor and stating their own views of the sometimes emotionally closed off workaholic known as Rumi. Their leader.

'This does not feel like a doctors appointment. If anything, its just a guy stating out obvious traits and iss-'

"Quiet, yet vocal. A mind racing with thoughts unheard. Silenced by those around, only eager for something else."

She didn't realise the doctor was pointedly staring at her.

"W-What?"

"Yeah, what are saying to our dear manager!" Zoey exclaims clinging onto her side.

"Z-Zoey. Its fine. P-Please let go." She asks of the eager girl, the said giving her some sparkly puppy eyes before letting go.

"How does this help me get my voice back?"

"As I said, to treat the part, we must understand the whole."

"(Groan) That's great, but I thought we were here just for your tonics."

"Just give us the voice juice."

————————————————————

Whilst the girls were waiting for the tonics, (Y/N) decided to wait outside for them. She trusts them enough to get the tonics, as much as she isn't fond of them.

That picture on the wall seemed oddly familiar.

'Where have I seen those boys from...'

With her time as a manager for HUNTR/X, she's seen and met a fair share of trainees and idols. Perhaps that is why they seemed familiar. But even then, nothing noteworthy comes up when she saw their faces. Man she wishes she could remember where she saw these guys.

Shaking her head to try and ward off these strangely curious thoughts.

'This shouldn't be occupying my brain as much as it should. I should be thinking about another song to sing for tomorrow night, I have another pacifying to d-'

"Oof!"

"Sorry, are you alright?"

So caught up in her mind that she ended up wandering out of the alleyway. Clashing bodies with a strong built guy and falling to her knees by accident.

"Y-Yeah, I'm f-fin- Oh. You're the guys I saw with Jinu last night." Meeting the familiar short pink haired friend of Jinu. The said male had his eyes widen slightly before turning down back to normal. A glint of mischief in his eyes with a thought.

"We never fully introduced ourselves, I'm called Abby." Bowing his head slightly as a greeting whilst helping her up.

"I'm Romance, Jinu mentioned me last time we saw each other." The longer pink haired male comes up from behind and leans on Abby's shoulder.

"I remember that."

"The one pouting behind me is our maknae, Baby Saja. And the last with the long fringe is Mystery." The mentioned maknae side-eyed Romance from his confirmed pouting face.

(Y/N) felt a chin resting on her shoulder, feeling the fluffy silver grey hair of Mystery tickling her face and neck. His close contact sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. Glancing her gaze down slightly, she can see the slight run-through of purple patterns across his exposed face, a quick reminder on what they are really.

Moving her shoulders up forces Mystery off with a sad pout on his face from the action.

"Well, its nice to meet you guys. Aren't you performing today?" She questions with a shiver to her body, still uncomfortable with Mystery's strange 'greeting' to her.

"Why yes, we are. Are you sticking around to watch us?" Romance asks with a flirtatious wink.

(Y/N) already decided she was going to watch them, purely to see what kind of concept her and HUNTR/X are working against. Though the pastel clothing was enough to tell her. Now its a matter of curiosity.

Shrugging her shoulders while stuffing her hands in her pockets. "I don't see why not. I'm actually also waiting for some friends, so I may as well kill some time."

"I'm so glad to hear that!"

Turning up her attention she sees Jinu pushing past the other boys (who don't look that happy with the action), an excited expression etching onto his face upon seeing her. His presence calming her shivers ever so slightly.

"I'm gonna assume you were organising your stage Jinu?" Crossing her arms and putting on a more professional tone. She may consider Jinu a new friend, but that doesn't mean he's off the hook as a demon yet.

His reason for being on the surface is enough to raise suspicion.

"Your powers would be of great use, considering you guys don't seem to have a manager in sight. (muttering) Even I don't think a company is willing to sign you and debut you the same year, let alone week." Her muttering went under their ears, replaced with shocked expressions to hear that she knows of their faces behind the disguises.

Jinu awkwardly chuckles, sort of amused by her bluntness, but is still heavily questioning how she knows this. "(chuckle) You have no fear in what we are, do you?" Leaning closer to her ear, his voice sending another nervous shiver through her body.

Taking a short breath in before leaning closer to his ear. "Why would I fear someone who doesn't hold such malice in his eyes."

The male had a thrilling shiver go up his spine. Not only from the proximity, but the words from her quiet melodic voice.

"I only see shame and guilt."

————————————————————

"WHERE DID (Y/N) GO?!"

"I DON'T KNOW?!"

The three girls were panicking upon coming out of the clinic, their box of tonics in hand. They were cheering about helping Rumi's voice, but stopped when they couldn't find their dear manager.

"Did anyone find where she went?"

"No?! We were inside for honmoon's sake!"

"Oh no! She might have been taken by demons! No she must be so lonely and-"

"What is going on?!"

Swerving their head around, they see (Y/N) with a confused face seeing their panicked state.

"My god...I thought you guys found a dead body or something. There is no need to yell for me, you don't want to be attracting ANY attention. Right?"

Her firm strict tone being a quick reminder of what role (Y/N) has played ever since their debut. A more strict version of Bobby with her hands in the creative process. Even when she wasn't fully comfortable with the girls yet, she still managed to steer them in the right direction when avoiding scandals and demos for songs.

"Y-Yeah...sorry (N/n)." Zoey frowns apologetically.

Sighing to herself like her mother usually does when she breaks a vase.

"You guys are the ones that said you wanted to stay out of sight." Her muttering causes guilty expressions to pull on the girls. "Don't worry about that now. I should be sorry as well, considering I just walked away without an explanation." Forgiving the girls for this is easier than letting it drag on more.

Rumi and Mira were about to provide an explanation for their panic, but their ears were picking up the faint sound of an instrumental beginning to play in the background.

"Wait. What is that?"

Rumi's question urges the girls to pop their heads out of the alleyway. Only to see a strange pink smoke beginning to form near the centre of the busy area. The backing instruments sounding positive and bubbly as it went on.

Adjusting their disguises, they make their way towards the commotion.

"Hey, hey"

"Hey, hey"

"Hey"

Five silhouettes can be made out in the smoke, all striking poses before the pink suddenly disappears to reveal the performers.

"Don't want you, need you"

"Yeah, I need you to fill me up"

"Masigo masyeo bwado"

"Seonge chaji ana"

"Got a feeling that, oh, yeah (Yeah)"

"You could be everything that"

"That I need (Need), taste so sweet (Sweet)"

"Every sip makes me want more, yeah"

"Its those stupid jerks again!" Rumi exclaims. "Wait. You know those guys?" (Y/N)'s confusion evident but is ignored by the sheer number of people gathering around.

"These guys are a boy band?" Another question Rumi exclaims. Irritation growing in her more.

"Lookin like snacks 'cause you got it like that (Woo)"

"Take a big bite, want another bite, yeah"

"Neoui modeun geol nan wonhae, wonhae, wonhae"

"Neo malgon modu pyeonhae, pyeonhae, pyeonhae"

"Whеn you're in my arms, I hold you so tight (So tight)"

"Can't let go, no, no, not tonight"

"That jerk stole one of my pouches!" Recounting her tonics upon seeing Jinu drinking one.

(Y/N) deciding to question later why Jinu decided to intentionally or not, magically send back an ahjumma with a hip thrust.

"Jigeum dangjang nal bwa sigan еopjana"

"Neon naekkeoya imi algo itjana"

"'Cause I need you to need me"

"I'm empty, you feed me so refreshing"

'A drop?'

"My little soda pop"

"You're all I can think of"

"Every drop I drink up"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop"

"Cool me down, you're so hot"

"Pour me up, I won't stop"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop"

The chorus infectiously going around the crowd with shoulder movements galore. Bopping their bodies to the earworm worthy song. Not even Zoey or (Y/N) were immune to the rhythm.

As much as Rumi and Mira glare for them to stop, their bodies couldn't deny the contagious beat.

"It is annoyingly catchy, though."

"Its infectious."

Romance and Baby Saja sending out kisses of hearts into the ground, physically knocking out those hit.

"They can make hearts out of thin air?" Mira's questions go unanswered, but (Y/N) can think of ways to reply.

But reflecting in the sunlight, catching the hunters eyes, was the faint purple patterns running through their arms and the hint of gold in their dreamy irises.

"(Gasp) They're demons!"

"Magicians! Demons. Obviously demons."

"My little soda pop"

"Uh, make me wanna flip the top"

"Han mogeume you hit the spot"

"Every little drip and drop, fizz and pop, ah"

"Soreum doda it's gettin' hot"

"Yes, I'm sippin' when it's drippin' now"

"It's done? I need a second round"

"And pour a lot and don't you stop"

"'Til my soda pop fizzles out"

"Dang they're good."

"Incredible. But a demon boy band? Why?"

"I don't care. A demon's a demon. We kill them." Rumi and (Y/N) stops Mira before anything can happen.

"No, its too public."

"Do you want everyone to grill us into being cancelled?"

"What if they try to kill these people?" Mira's reasoning is valid from her perspective. But everything around them says otherwise.

"It doesn't look like they're gonna hurt anyone." Zoey's observation being noted by (Y/N), seeing as the five boys helping out a few people struggling with little things.

"Kkum soge geuryeowatdeon neo"

"Nan jeoldae nochil su eopseo"

"Neol wonhae kkok"

"I waited so long for a taste of soda"

"So, the wait is over, baby"

"Come and fill me up"

"Just can't get enough"

"Oh"

"In fact, it almost seems like they're nice demons?"

"Demons are never nice!"

Seeing the girls rush over to destroy the very things the demons touched. Panic washing over with her usual professionalism masking it. Purchasing another hotdog for the girl with the right amount of sauce and giving the children smaller gifts in replacement for the destroyed ones, giving them all a soft smile in comfort.

'Think before you act, girls.'

"You're all I can think of"

"Every drop I drink up"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop (Yeah, yeah)"

"Cool me down, you're so hot"

"Pour me up, I won't stop (Oh, oh)"

"You're my soda pop"

"My little soda pop"

The sudden appearance of a stage large soba can was a choice, in (Y/N)'s opinion. But the wave of pastels and illusionary magic is what set her off.

Pushing her way through the crowd to catch up with the girls, she found her way near the front.

'I see what's going on...'

"Ooh, ooh"

"Ooh, ooh"

"You're my soda pop"

"Gotta drink every drop"

Striking their ending poses, Jinu looks down at the crowd, meeting the (f/c) and gold gaze with his brown ones. Smiling softly at her before diverting his attention.

"That's it for now. See you tonight on everyone's favourite variety show. Saja Boys love you!"

The demon boy band disappearing in a puff of smoke.

The three hunters grew more irritated at the easy work the demons have accomplished by just performing once! Determined to end this boy band as fast as possible.

(Y/N) on the other hand had other thoughts.

'Well then, if you want to play like this Jinu, I hope you know what's coming for you.'

*Ding*

Her phone vibrated with the indication of a text message. Opening up her messages to see the new text, reading made a small sigh release from her mouth.

Jinu: Hey (Y/N), lets meet up tonight. I'll meet you at the place we met.

————————————————————

Edit: I took a break and I managed to fall down into my Record of Ragnarok phase again whilst also watching the new Superman movie (really good I recommend). Also if anyone wants to be tagged, pls ask in the recent parts bc it just makes the list a lot easier to find and compile.

Tags: @kitsune-05, @the-bookish-artist, @apelepikozume, @shoopershtar, @ravvilicous, @valeriele3, @vikc, @lasa27, @chipster-321, @greensunflowerjuna, @napbatata, @that-one-girl2020, @tagmepls, @thoughtfulbananaduckcroissant, @minepugs, @crescent-z, @colorfulgardenerduck, @poem-bee, @deityofprocastinating, @0-undead-0, @gremlinartstudio, @jessica-mcd, @strayharmony943, @fruityg0rl, @cherryblossomfox, @aominehaven, @kyxmlii, @ssaischilling, @sweaterkitty-fluff, @historygeekqueen, @satansdaughter123, @theall-seeingone, @nvmkyuu, @amenabii, @julianne1024, @doggyteam2028, @nisarelle, @theall-seeingone, @hi-itsmee28, @celesteelysia, @maritheillusion, @levifiance, @kangsae-byeokfan, @hornehlittleweeblet12, @scara-simp69, @fancyhawk45, @shqyou, @enerofairy, @futuristicdefendorfart, @scentwombatarcade, @eliengoddes, @irethepotato, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @jessica-mcd, @koda-lupinn, @yoursleeparalysisdem0n, @tsukimoon-chan, @ityourguy, @elaemae, @neverending-animelove, @type-ink, @pandafuriousa60, @mazzk1ng, @theall-seeingone, @rorotvt2025

[dollyforever]

my void success story!!

I'm feeling inspired and I just had a yummy lunch with my brother and the sun is shining so let me tell you about my manifestations and my void state journey from 5 days ago.

so, I made a post about a ritual I made to let go of your old reality, and allow endless manifestations to flow into your life effortlessly. I decided to wait some days to try it myself, because I wanted to feel very sure of my decision. As I said, this ritual is for real. Once you decide you are stepping into a different, new life and version of yourself, life won't be the same as before. Anyway, 5 days later (i miscalculated before sorry) I said, okay, let's do this. and so I did. As I was falling asleep, I meditated, and it was like nothing I've ever felt before. It was like... I don't know. something shifted inside and outside of me. For a split second, I entered the void and I forgot to manifest anything specific, so I just wished for a lucky life. when I was done, and as I fell asleep, I noticed how a massive weight had been released from my body. Like, any possible issues and worries I had before, were gone.

the next morning I woke up and I made coffee and the birds were chirping louder than usual and the house was quieter than usual. no parents screaming, no brother being annoying. and I felt so light, and so peaceful and so immensely happy. It's a feeling I can't put into words. and so, I posted on Tumblr, because I was excited about my new life.

That same day, just one hour later after that post, I found my dream apartment in my dream city where I'll go to study next year. I saw it just 4 minutes after the sweet woman renting it posted it on the apartment app thing. I texted her, and talked to my mom, and to my satisfaction, my parents instantly agreed, since the price was absolutely perfect. the apartment is sooo dreamy and big and it's in such a safe area, and ALL of the things in my manifestation list (I had made a list months before to manifest this apartment) were crossed.

ok, so I was absolutely ECSTATIC because finally, I had found my dream apartment and I said, alright, now let's search for my dream vintage clothes for uni next year. Let me tell you. I found the CUTEST rarest Abercrombie and Hollister pieces for SO CHEAP!!!! And I bought them obviously. and I sold so many clothes I didn't want anymore. I also found my dream discontinued perfume getting sold for a fraction of the original price.

Anyway, since the day was going so well, I decided to call two friends who I'm not super close with to ask them to hang out, and so we did that same afternoon. I don't want to go into detail, but basically I came out of that hang out feeling so incredibly happy and grateful for my new close friends.

Then, I got a message from a boy I met a year ago in the summer saying he was coming to my city in a few days and that we should hang out. And we did!!! It was so nice, we went to different museums and talked about art and literature and painted with watercolors in the old part of the city.

And now, around bit less than a week after this whole thing, my parents surprised me with a MacBook Air (I'm typing from it right now!!!!) my old computer was sooo laggy and horrible, and I was really hoping for a new one, specifically from apple. And they gave them free AirPods for buying it, which my brother kept :).

okay. I seriously did not make this post to brag or anything at all in that matter. I want to tell you that before this, I had been feeling super stuck and unmotivated in my journey. I feel unstoppable now. and I am so excited to manifest even more things and enter the void again. I'm still super interested in shifting (obvi) but life has felt so beautiful, I don't even wish to leave. Though I am excited to enter new realities, of course. That's a story for another day.

love, doll

[narcjsistx]

please I have such a good request that I think is funny. After chapter 307, imagine Reader asks Sae if they can buy a pet bunny and he instantly tells her no, and she’s asking why not and he’s like “ No 😐🥀” but like, crack. It can be smau or fic I FEEL IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY THO

i usually don't make written fic requests, only smau ones, but this one really made me laugh. so here we are guys

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

it felt strange to have SAE ITOSHI at home for more than three days in a row — strange, but definitely pleasant. the spanish tour had just ended with great results, and that gave him the chance to finally relax a little, in the quiet of his home

it was nice to actually be able to hug him, and not just send a message he’d only read hours later in his hotel room. it was even nice just to spend time together in the same room, too

sae genuinely thought these days would be the best of the month — finally free to train only when he truly felt like it, and most of all, finally able to spend time with you after months of random flights for equally random, short-lived visits

he thought the days would pass by peacefully, with you

big mistake, sae itoshi.

"babe, can you watch the video i sent you?"

"okay. which one of the last... fortytwo?"

it wasn’t anything new to see that many videos waiting when he opened your chat. it was a habit you had since the very beginning of the relationship, and honestly, he didn’t mind it

"you’re not funny! it’s not fortytwo, c'mon..."

"fortysix."

"... just watch the last seven"

opening the chat, the number of bunnies that appears before his eyes is disgustingly disgusting. he sees all kinds: short fur, long fur, white, black, brown, long ears, short ears. his throat tightens almost automatically as he looks up — only to find you already standing in front of him with your phone in hand, with that face that, ever since you two got together, has never once been told no. he sighs bored, as you throw yourself down next to him on the couch, holding your phone right up to his face. instinctively he wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer — but he’d throw that bunny on your screen as far away from him as humanly possible

"look how cute it is! it’s looking for a home, it’s up for adoption at the center near our hom—"

"absolutely not."

you turn surprised, lowering the screen slightly. you press your lips together like you’ve just received the worst news of your life, and sae already regrets having answered so coldly. it’s just that he can’t understand how such a cute animal could have the name of a jerk — the ultimate jerk, the very ultimate jerk

"... you don’t like bunnies?"

oh, he’d definitely like them more if they didn’t remind him so much of that barcha jerk — so jumpy and damn tall. sae clears his throat, moving the screen away from his face

"i don’t like bunnies"

"why? they’re so innocent, they don’t need much attention, and im home most of the time anyway"

"i don’t like them because they’re messy, they smell, they pee everywhere, and they ruin dreams that have nothing to do with them—"

"... i don’t think they do that?"

sae raises an eyebrow, then runs a hand through his hair — just to calm himself down a little. you look at him with that look, the one that’s been his downfall for years now. suddenly, your face is replaced by iglesias’s, and for a moment, sae is completely speechless. only when your actual face comes back into view he let out a sigh of relief, a very long one

"i just don’t think it’s the right pet for us, considering my job and the fact that you want to start university. don’t you think maybe... i don’t know, a dog would be a better choice?"

"but i want a bunny"

"yeah, and i’d like to be a striker, but things don’t always go the way we want"

"i don’t see how that has anything to do with what i said..."

"im just telling you to listen to me, trust me. bunnies are evil"

you give him a bit of a look, then slump against his shoulder with a pout. sae starts running his fingers through your hair, fully aware that maybe — just maybe — he’s won this battle, a battle harder than the one against barcha a few months ago

"i already had a list of names ready"

sae sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. the gesture doesn’t quite erase your pout, but your eyebrows are furrowed just a little less. hearing the list can’t possibly cause another mental breakdown… right?

"alright, let’s hear it. what were you thinking?"

"OKAY SO… since we’re in spain, i thought of a spanish name. everyone gives their pets human names, but i want to stand out… with building names. i was thinking of… catedral, colegio, cine, estadio... maybe even tienda, iglesia—"

oh, no bunny will ever cross the threshold of this house as long as sae is alive. neither human nor animal

[theheroheart]

(I'm a goy, for context. Specifically raised Norwegian Lutheran, not American. Also this went into a big nerdy ramble, which is probably fitting for the topic.)

I think it also comes down to what the purpose of the law is, whether or not "loopholes" are okay. Loopholes are morally neutral.

For secular, societal law (be it a country's legal system or the rules of a forum), the law is supposed to have a specific purpose to prevent something bad. Traffic laws prevent injuries, for example. In this case, finding a loophole is bad because it endangers people.

Of course, laws can be badly written or ineffective, and they can also be created for other purposes, to give power to a certain group. In that case, loopholes are seen as bad by the people in power, the people who benefit from that law.

However, we'd generally agree that finding loopholes in an unjust law is a good thing, right?

For an extreme example, say there's a law saying you are legally obligated to murder your neighbour if they paint their house on a Sunday. So you find a loophole that says, no, they have to paint their whole house, or it doesn't count. Even the most law-abiding person would probably agree to that loophole, because otherwise that would be really awful, and they'd find ways to justify it. This is a law most people agree is unjust.

Meanwhile, people who hate their neighbour and really wanted to murder them would be happy to have an excuse. Some people who dislike their neighbour and are scared to break the law might also end up murdering their neighbour, even if they don't agree with the law, and they'll justify to themselves saying they just followed the law.

Anyway I clearly got off on a tangent about fascist regimes here which wasn't my original point.

Now, religious law is a different matter, because its purpose is different.

In Christianity, the origins of the laws probably aren't that different from societal law, as explained above. But the purpose of Christian laws as presented to us is often much more focused on obedience - though not always.

Now, I'm raised Lutheran, so I was raised that I can technically sin as much as I want and still go to heaven if I believe in Jesus. Which always seemed really dumb to me, because 1) then what's the point in the laws? And 2) you can't CHOOSE to believe something, you either do or you don't. Or at least I can't. (This depends on your definition of belief, but as a kid I always understood it as "what you understand to be true based on evidence", rather than a choice to have faith.)

So then laws to me have always been presented more as guidelines on how to be a good person, rather than hard rules. Like OP mentions, how loopholes are fine if you follow the SPIRIT of the law. Because the spirit is "be a good person".

In fact, the main repeated prayer, the "Lord's Prayer" (Matthew 6:10-13), which is the only part of the Bible I remember, has only one directive: forgive sinners, and you too shall be forgiven. I heard this FAR more times than I ever heard the commandments or other rules.

Other corners of Christianity though, it's about obedience to an authority. You follow the rules or you get punished, that's the way it is. Loopholes are always bad because it's you trying to outwit your parents, er, I mean god. Loopholes show disobedience.

What OP is talking about, about suffering being virtuous, that's also only a specific brand of Christianity - not my personal experience. But it's connected to the authoritarian view, because it requires you to "trust in god's plan". You follow the rules even if they don't make sense to you. It's the "daddy knows best" idea of faith.

The interesting thing about how Judaism is described by OP though is "the law's purpose is to be followed." Which also implies obedience, but in a different way. There's no "daddy" to punish you if you do it "wrong".

If all ways of following the law are equal, then it's about showing respect to the words themselves - right? Not by blindly following - that's obedience, not respect. Respect is about paying attention to it, giving it due consideration, and accepting it as much as you can without harm.

(Interested to hear input on this btw.)

In that way, I think my experience with Lutheranism has a lot in common with Judaism. There's no punishment for doing it wrong - you follow the rules because you find meaning in it.

Of course, one of the things I missed in my childhood experience with Christianity is that it wasn't nearly as academic and thoughtful as my later (secondhand) experience with Judaism. For me, religion had about the same weight as any storybook with a moral. If I could debate the stories, maybe I would have cared more.

---

Also sidenote - in Norwegian fairy tales, the devil shows up relatively frequently in the form of a satyr, sometimes with bat wings. Probably a Christian adaptation of trickster figures, which are common here. The hero of the story beats him specifically through outwitting him. (There's two ways to victory in Norwegian fairy tales. Being clever, or being kind.)

There's one in particular where a kid traps the devil inside a nut just by challenging him to do if, then has a smith crack the nut open. Nothing else to the story, zero morality, just funny. Another one has the taxman try to talk his way out of being taken by the devil, but ends up thwarted because people hate the taxman.

Anyway the point of this aside is that loopholes and tricks against authorities or enemies are often seen as positives in Norwegian culture, probably because of quiet rebellion against 400 years of foreign rule. This probably colours our Christianity as well.

There's this really frustrating goyish idea that Jews are always finding "loopholes" or "tricks" to violate the "spirit of the law" when it comes to observing Jewish law. No, they're following Jewish law. All ways in which one can follow the law are equally "in the spirit of the law" because the law's purpose is to be followed. The idea that finding easier ways to observe religious rules means "tricking" god or doing something otherwise shameful is reflective of Christian philosophy. Suffering is not virtuous in Judaism. Penance is not the purpose of Jewish law. Judaism is meant to enrich the current lives of its community, not ritualize hardship for some unknowable divine purpose.

[deadexclamationpoint]

As promised, thoughts on the old black parade costumes vs the new!

Disclaimer that I don't know anything about costuming, but we're gonna push on anyways! I also am taking a lot of observations from a post I made years ago analyzing the original black parade jackets. It doesn't have a ton of notes but if some phrasing etc seems familiar, that may be why!

Also, keep in mind that when I'm talking about the first set of jackets, I'm talking about the ones seen in the music videos and only occasionally worn on stage. They had a set of jackets that were only worn for performing, but I'm not going to reference those because everyone's looked the same.

Reference picture!

(There are no good group pics from last night and I'm at the 10 picture limit so we're gonna have to make do with this. Just scroll down if you wanna refresh on the new individual looks)

Let's start with the band as a whole: the first thing I noticed last night is that now the jackets are less visually distinct from each other. Gerard and Frank's jackets now have basically the same cut, as do Mikey and Ray's. The first set of jackets varied in cut, ribbons, buttons, construction, ornamentation, etc, and the second set are just not that individualized. I might be imagining it but they also don't look as well made and tailored? The first set of jackets look pretty sharp even in stage candids, and these just don't look as nice imo. The impression I get from this is that DRAAG made them new jackets that were more uniform and shittier, a knock-off of the original looks that better suit their vision but lack what made the originals special.

There's also more of a gold tone to the metallics, which goes nicely with the wheat patterning on Gerard's uniform in particular. It's just less goth, isn't it? It's less morbid than cold silver and black, and looks more befitting of a regime trying to showcase it's granduer. The red plays into this as well, while also somehow bringing us back around to morbid, with red stripes around their necks and wrists. There's something visceral about it.

That being said, let's get into the individual looks:

Gerard

(Sorry, the best reference pics I could find for the old jackets were these posters with the heads cut off)

Gerard's old jacket was a beautiful mix of masc and femme elements, combining with his pixie cut to make something really nicely androgynous. In particular, the ribbons across the front start really wide across the shoulders and get more narrow as they go down the length of his torso, giving him the contrast of broad shoulders to a small waist. And of course, there's the corseted back.

The new jacket gets rid of these more femme elements. Gerard has some signifiers of leadership, with his fancy shoulder tabs and braid and patterned ribbon, but it's no longer a terribly androgynous look :( That had to go because, as @milfygerard said, fascism cannot accept femininity in it's icons (thank you for kicking off this whole discussion with your observations!).

Mikey

Mikey's original look was kind of brilliant. His jacket was the most "military" looking, and it wouldn't surprise me if they started with the idea of the medal and built the rest of the look around it. With how skinny he is, dressing Mikey in something so solidly structured gives him more presence, helping him look more like a soldier and less like a dead Victorian waif.

His current look isn't terribly different, but I do miss the buttons on the cuffs :( The truly egregious thing is the medal - it's much smaller, and on the other side. I don't know if that has any military meaning, but it does mean that it's obscured by his bass or the strap a lot of the time. So disrespectful! Perhaps DRAAG doesn't think much of his sacrifice.

Frank

Frank's original look set him apart as the scrappy punk one - it's the least traditional, the patterning on the ribbons makes them look kind of tarnished in most lighting, and he has no shoulder tabs. That in particular is funny to me, because those are for holding tassels and braids that would signify rank or achievement. Apparently, you couldn't bestow that upon him if you tried. Compared to all that, his new look is so NORMAL. It's just a normal-ass jacket with some stripes on the sleeves. Fewer of them, even. They cleaned him up and put him in line with the others.

Ray

Ray. Ray's jacket. This is a travesty. Ray's original jacket was the pretty and fancy one. It was the least "military," with all those curved lines, and the little loopy details around the buttons. The tailoring was wild, his waist looked tiny and his legs looked really long, helped by how high the jacket was cut. This was honestly also kind of a femme look. And NONE OF THAT is retained in the new jacket!!! It's the same cut as Mikey's now, so neither of them stand out as much in that respect. In fact, considering the sash and belt, it looks like Ray can stand out, but only in a way that suggests rank. He looks like a military officer, like he's Gerard's second-in-command. It's still fancy, but it's not pretty. Heaven forbid they just let him be pretty 🙄.

In conclusion, the new black parade looks suffer for being twisted to fit DRAAG's image of how a national band should present themselves, with a particular emphasis on encouraging conformity. And it sucks.

[goobstars]

Hallo! I've never done one of these before, but I love your writing, and I was thinking about a Jax x reader where he sleepwalks into her room by accident and falls asleep next to her. Goofiness ensues. Idk, it's silly/fluffy romantic tone.

It's really dumb but I figured it'd be cute, you don't have to do it or anything!

Thanks! <3

𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐘𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃

summary : usually when you woke up, you'd be met with the boring sight of your room, but today, you were met with the view of jax asleep next to you.

tags : romance, a suggestive joke for giggles, and very silly stuffs.

note : i love when people elaborate on goofiness because then that means i don't have to take this seriously. i hope you enjoy the sillys.

if you had to choose a favourite thing to do in the circus, it would be sleeping.

not the adventures, not the 'friends you made along the way'—it was sleep.

sleep meant that you got to forget all about this place, and you didn't care if it was just for a little bit. when you were asleep, you weren't in this digital hell.

the only downside to sleep was that when you woke up, you were reminded about where you were. you were reminded with every glance you'd give around your oddly decorated room. usually, that was the first thing you'd see when you woke up.

but today was different.

you slightly moved around your bed while your eyes remained closed, and you turned your head to the side before partially opening your eyes.

instead of the sight you were used to, you were met with the view of jax.

his eyes were closed while his chest rose with every breath he took, and you paused for a moment as you blinked a few times. were you imagining his presence? why would he be in your room?

you slowly reached out a hand to poke his arm, and you shot up once you actually felt something.

your reaction seemed to wake up jax as he let out a groan, and he opened his eyes before staring at you in confusion. "what—"

you didn't give him a chance to speak as you screamed.

"WHY ARE YOU IN MY BED!?"

"your bed?" jax repeated as he let out a scoff, "i'm pretty sure this is my room, dollface—"

he paused for a moment before he slightly sat up, and he looked around before his eyes widened. "how did i get in here...?"

"through the door?"

his head slowly turned as he frowned at you, and he gave you a fake laugh. "very funny." you only gave him a thumbs up before flopping back down on your pillows, and you shifted so you were on your side so you could look at him. "anyways, you can cut the act, jax. why did you come in here?"

"you're very accusing, you know. what if you kidnapped me from my room and put me in here so you could cause drama?"

"you're too heavy for me to pick up."

"first you accuse me of sneaking into your room, and now you're judging me? you have a lot of nerve for someone who stole me from my room." jax smirked once you rolled your eyes, and you snatched the blanket from him while he pouted at you. "you're really going to let me freeze to death?"

"i will unless you admit that you snuck into my room."

jax let out a dramatic sigh before he flopped back down on the bed, and you frowned at him while he rested beside you. if you were being honest, you wanted him out. you wanted to go back to sleep because it felt like it was early in the morning, despite time not existing here.

"listen, doll—i didn't sneak into your room."

"then how did you get here?"

"through the door." he mocked you from earlier, and you only shot him a scowl as he shrugged. "i don't know what else you want me to say, i'm telling the truth."

you narrowed your eyes, but all you saw was a genuine look in his eyes. he wasn't lying, but then how did he get in here?

"do you sleepwalk?" you bluntly questioned, and jax paused for a moment. his eyes slightly widened while his mouth went into a straight line.

that expression was your answer.

"why didn't you just say you sleepwalk?"

"because ragatha told me she found me walking around while i was asleep, but i thought she was lying to get back at me for putting a centipede in her hair."

his answer made you let out a snicker as you leaned back against your pillows, and you got comfortable while jax just stared at you in confusion. "what are you doing?"

"going back to sleep."

at your answer, he was perplexed as to why you didn't want to talk about the issue further, but he didn't say anything. he just started to get up from your bed because he assumed you would want him to leave.

but instead, he felt a hand grab his own.

he peered over his shoulder to eye the way you held his hand, and you gently tugged it before mumbling, "why don't you just stay here? your room's so far away..."

"you askin' me to sleep with you, doll?" you tightly squeezed his hand while jax let out a chuckle, "i'm just kidding...i guess i'll stay, even though you're making me lose the possibilities of getting my steps in."

you let out a tired laugh at his words, and he got back onto your bed before shifting onto his back. the blanket was tossed onto his legs, and he moved it up to his chest while he put his hands behind his head. he stared up at the ceiling before glancing at you, and he noted how your eyes were already closed.

he slowly shifted onto his side while resting his head against his arm, and the other one moved to fidget with the blanket as he eyed you.

were you already asleep?

by your quiet breaths, he assumed so.

he didn't know how he got here, and as much as he wanted to think that he sleepwalked here, it was more than likely the truth. ragatha had made comments about how she saw him roaming the hallways, but he didn't want to believe it.

why? because every time ragatha said something about him walking, it was always the same nights when he had nightmares.

the nightmares weren't constant, and after ragatha had stopped saying anything after a bit, he believed that he had gotten over the sleepwalking. yet, last night, he had a nightmare about ribbit. the name itself was one that made his stomach churned, and the nightmare didn't help that. replays of the abstraction whirred in his mind as if it were playing a movie, and he hated it.

usually, he'd wake up in his own room after the nightmares, but this time, he woke up in yours.

and for some odd reason, a while before you woke him up, the nightmare vanished like it had never even occurred. the nightmare typically continued until he woke up or was woken up, but that wasn't the case this time. the nightmare stopped midway.

was that around the time he came into your room? why did it just randomly stop?

his eyes flickered across your face, and he let out a low breath.

why did he come into your room?

he'd figure out the answer later, for all he wanted to do right now was sleep. it was his favourite thing to do in the circus.

besides being around you, of course.

[catherinnn]

Sharp Tongue

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

summary: Eddie gets his tongue newly pierced and it becomes your weakness.

warnings: SMUT (+18), oral (f & m), overstimulation, piercings and descriptions of the healing process, afab! reader.

words: around 4k

masterlist

The group is at Steve's. Pizzas are already on the way and the beer is chilling in the fridge. The only thing missing was Eddie. Well, not actually missing. He probably took too long in the shower or stayed listening to his favorite album on repeat and the time flew.

He arrives an hour late, everyone scoffing at him.

"Alright, alright. I have no excuse. But I do have a little surprise" he smiles.

"What is it?" Jonathan asks. Eddie simply sticks his tongue out, showing the little metal bar on his tongue. "What?!"

"Holy shit! Is that real?" Steve looks at his tongue surprisingly.

"Of course it is, Harrington" Eddie smirks. "I got it last week. Hurt like a bitch but it looks sick, right?"

"That’s so cool, let me see it again!" Robin agrees. Eddie sticks his tongue out again.

You don't say anything. You stay frozen, just looking at it amazed.

Eddie wiggles his tongue a little before wincing. "Still sore, no unnecessary movements"

"How are you not in pain?" Nancy asks him.

"I mean, I was. The first few days sucked. Living off of soup and mashed potatoes. But now It's not swollen anymore. I can't eat anything that's not soft, and I can't kiss anyone" he explains. "Not like there's a line of girls waiting to kiss me anyway"

"But since when did you want a tongue piercing?" Nancy asks.

"I mean, why not? Looks metal. Plus, it's supposed to be really fun... in some scenarios"

"You mean... like-"

He interrupts her, with a smirk and a wink. "Exactly what you're thinking, Wheeler"

You almost choke on your drink at that image. The idea of what that piercing could do and how it would feel against-

Robin is so kind to interrupt these thought out of your head, as she sees your flushed cheeks and lost stare.

"You've been suspiciously quiet. Everything okay?"

"Huh? yeah, fine" you shrug.

"What's your verdict, princess. Am I pulling this off or does it look weird?" Eddie asks you.

"I think you're pulling it off" you nod.

He smirks. "Good to know"

"Pizzas are here! and uhh... mashed potatoes for Eddie, I guess" Steve interrupts.

As the pizzas disappear, more cans of beer are opened. You're curled in the corner of the couch, finishing your cup, feeling the blush on your cheeks from the alcohol.

Eddie's sitting next to you. Long legs stretched out and he's leaning back against the couch. And his tongue?

You can clearly see the little metal ball peaking out of his pink lips as he absentmindedly plays with it.

"Eddie, stop that. You weren’t supposed to play with it yet" you tell him.

"Didn't realize I had an audience" he chuckles.

"You don't" you playfully roll your eyes, lying.

Robin and Steve are bickering about something you didn't pay attention to. Nancy and Jonathan having their own quiet conversation.

Eddie nudged your ankle with his. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just tipsy" you smile. "How's your mouth? Swollen?"

"Nah, not anymore. The first few days were torture though. I sounded like I had some dental surgery, real charming"

"Did it hurt more or less than a tattoo?" you ask.

"It's a different kind of pain. A tattoo is like... this dragging burn. The piercing was just one sharp stitch, quick and kinda shocking" he answers your questions. "I'm surprised you're this curious. You usually avoid anything involving blood or needles"

"I dunno. This doesn't look too bad"

"Oh great, thanks" he laughs. "Anything else you wanna know?"

If he only knew everything else you want to know. Like how the contrast with the coldness of the metal and the warmness of his tongue would feel against your skin. How would it feel to kiss him? To play with your tongue against his and feel the little ball making everything even hotter.

You've always wondered how it would be to kiss someone with that piercing... and you've always wondered how it would be to kiss Eddie. Ever since you met him.

But now, the thought of killing two birds with one stone, solving both of your questions, was making you dizzier than the alcohol itself.

“You keep looking at me like that” he murmurs, barely audible.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to know something” he tilts his head, a crooked grin forming.

You should lie, laugh it off. Should say it’s the alcohol, the fact that he’s loud and hard to ignore. But you don't.

Instead, you take another sip and lean in a little, the alcohol giving you the courage and guts.

“I guess I’ve always wondered…” you say softly. “what it would be like”

His expression shifts, eyes darkening, his grin faltering at the edges. “What what would be like?”

“Kissing someone with a tongue piercing”

There it is. No flirtation, no sarcasm. Just truth. Eddie doesn’t say anything. He just stares, his fingers tightening around his bottle.

You continue, a little bolder now. “People say it makes everything feel more intense. Maybe the metal adds pressure” Your gaze drops to his mouth. “Makes everything feel even better”

Eddie swallows hard, forgets how to breathe.

Now they're both imagining, picturing, letting your minds run wild. Every place that piercing could go. The heat of his mouth dragging over skin, the pressure of metal.

You're painting a picture, making him your muse. And he's ready to frame it and hang it on his wall.

“You really think about that stuff?” his voice is hoarse.

“Sometimes" you shrug, smirking. “I’m just curious”

“Curious” he repeats, like it’s the most obscene word he’s ever heard. "You know I can't kiss anyone yet"

"No, I know" You lean back against the couch. “I’m just saying, it’s a really interesting piercing”

Eddie clenches his jaw.

"One week” he mutters.

"Until what?”

“Until I can"

You didn't want to overthink what Eddie had said. You were both drinking. Tipsy, flirty. But you've been friends for a while now, there's no way he was really going to throw all that out the window for a hot night together... as hot as that night would be.

By Thursday of the following week, you were going to The Hideout with the group. Eddie was playing with his band and you always came to see him every once in a while.

Once the show is over and the music inside the bar shifts to its usual rock playlist, Eddie comes back down to greet everyone. His cheeks are pink, voice still hoarse from his singing.

You can feel him before you see him. He sits next to you at the tiny table that was definitely meant for less than six people to sit on. So of course his leg is constantly touching yours. Your shoulders brush everytime you lean to grab your drink.

Eddie melts casually into the conversation, like usual. But he still hasn't said a word directly to you since he sat down.

You reach to grab some chips from the table and you bump his arm.

"Sorry" you whisper.

He finally looks at you, grin on. "You keep saying that everytime we touch"

"Maybe we should stop sitting too close" you grin too.

"Maybe I like it" he adds. Then, his hand goes down rest on your thigh. Your heart skips a beat. "You remember everything from last week?"

"I remember a lot of things" you say.

"Oh, yeah?" he hums.

"I remember you were drunk"

"So were you"

"Exactly"

"So you think I didn't mean any of it?"

"I think you wouldn't throw away our friendship just because we drank too much and sat too close"

"Is that was it was to you? A mistake?"

"I didn't say that" you correct him, but your moment of tension is cut off by Steve, not even realizing what he was doing.

"So, Munson, how's the tongue?"

"God, don't phrase it like that" Robin cringes.

"Oh, my tongue? Wouldn't you wanna know, Harrington?" Eddie grins wide and leans back, and arm going behind his head to scratch his head. He doesn't know it (or maybe he actually does) but his shirt lifts up, letting you get a peak of his happy trail. Good God.

Steve rolls his eyes. "The piercing, idiot"

"It's all healed up. No infection. I even checked with my piercer and he gave me the green light"

"Can you eat properly now?" Robin asks him.

"Yup, I've been having pizza for two days straight now. I've missed it so much"

The silver ball appears from between his lips, rolling from one corner to the other. He's playing with it, obviously. Constantly. Like a nervous tic... or maybe a provocation.

"I mean... technically, now I could kiss anyone at this bar if I wanted" he adds. "And even more than kissing"

"Jesus, alright. We get the picture" Nancy groans.

And just like that, your mind is already spiriling again, taking you to a corner in your brain where Eddie's mouth is not talking, teasing, and joking around. It's exploring, tasting, pressing, flicking.

You clear your throat and look away, pretending to focus on anything else.

"Alright, I'm going out for a smoke" Eddie stands up and grabs his cigarettes. He looks up for a second and calls your name. "Could you be a doll and join me outside? You know, so I'm not all alone and defenseless out there"

You hesitate. Something tells you to avoid this. But then again, part of you has been waiting for this moment.

"Back in a sec" you murmur to the rest as you stand up as well.

Outside, Eddie leans back against the brick wall and lights his cigarette.

"Defenseless, really?" you ask.

"I mean, I can't afford a bodyguard yet, so you'll have to do" he jokes.

You roll your eyes. But the joke doesn't last. Eddie takes another drag and exhales, his eyes not leaving your face.

"I meant what I said the other night" he admits. "I only told you that being drunk because sober me's a coward"

"You're not a coward"

"The filter just dropped there, that's all" he pauses. "I haven't stopped thinking about you. About that night and how you looked at me. And you're pretending it didn't mean anything"

"I'm not pretending, I'm trying to protect what we have"

"I know, but what if we miss the chance of something real?" He walks closer to you. "I'm not gonna kiss you. Not because I don't want to. I do. God, I do."

"Then why not?"

"Because I want you to believe me first"

You stay looking at him, thinking. Eddie takes a step back, like the conversation is over, and takes another hit.

He's about to talk but you beat him to it.

"Eddie"

He turns, quiet. And you walk over to him without thinking too much about it.

"I haven't stopped thinking about that night either" you admit. "I keep picturing it. You playing with that stupid piercing like you're doing right now"

He hadn't realized he was. His tongue stops, subconsciously.

"I imagine what it would feel like," you whisper, stepping closer. "against my lips"

"Jesus" he sighs.

"Against my skin. I wonder what it would be like to kiss it. To play with it. with my tongue" you keeps whispering.

He calls your name like a warning.

"What? You wanted honesty"

"This is not fair"

"I know what I want. And I wanted to be sure you wanted it too"

"I do, so badly"

"You said you could kiss anyone you wanted tonight, right?"

"Yeah" he says, jaw tense.

"Then why don't we stop playing around it... and finally see what it feels like?"

It takes him less than a second. He doesn't hesitates and he moves.

Hands on you and he kisses you like he's been waiting months to do it. It's rough at first, urgent. Like he's afraid if he doesn't kiss you now, he'll never get the chance again.

Your back hits the wall softly as you melt into him. Arms around his neck. And it's everything you imagined.

The metal feels a bit cold at first, in contrast with his hot, soft and slow tongue. He deepens the kiss, flicking the piercing slightly against your bottom lip.

A sound escapes your throat at that.

"Well?" he smirks.

"It's... better than I imagined"

"Did you imagine a lot, sweetheart?" he smirks as he hugs you.

You don’t rush back in.

Not when Eddie has you pressed against the brick wall like it’s the only place in the world he wants to be. Not when he’s still kissing you like he can’t quite believe this is real.

Every flick of that piercing, teasing the corner of your mouth, your tongue, dipping down to your jaw.

Eddie pulls back just a little, lips dragging to your cheek, then lower, to the curve of your jaw, then your neck.

And then he mutters against your skin, voice rough and low: “If you want we can keep testing how this thing works later” He pulls back to look at you. “I mean, purely scientific purposes; research, discovery"

“You’re ridiculous” you whisper, chucking.

He kisses you again. Slower and softer.

Then, he pulls away and smooths his hand down your arm. ���C’mon, let’s go back before they start missing us”

You walk back in trying to act casual... you failed.

You hadn't notice that your hair was noticeably more tangled, lipstick no longer present. Instead, the tinted red was now on Eddie's lips and the corners of his mouth. His hair a mess...  even more than usual.

And they all notice. Everyone.

Steve spots you first. “No. No way.” He slams his hand on the table. “You two?”

“Oh my God" Robin laughs looking at Eddie's face.

“Do we all need to go outside for a smoke break now?” Jonathan acts scared, jokingly.

Eddie just shrugs and slides back into his seat like nothing happened.

“I mean...” he starts with a grin. “I told you I could kiss anyone I wanted tonight"

You sit down without a word.

“I told you I was defenseless,” Eddie adds, “she just took full advantage”

You roll your eyes.

"So? Does the piercing work?" Robin jokes.

"Oh, it works" you smirk.

The parking lot feels cold. The group spills out of the bar, putting on jackets and still laughing about some dumb joke.

Nancy and Jonathan get to her car, ready to go back home.

Steve grabs his keys and walks up to his car. "Alright ladies, I promised I'd get you two home" he refers to you and Robin.

You dig in your purse for your keys when you hear: "Or..."

You turn to the metalhead behind you, standing by his van.

"You could ride with me" he offers.

"Mmh, pros and cons?" you ask.

"You already know what I'm offering" he gives you a cocky smirk. "I told you we could keep testing things"

"Oh" Robin's eyes shot up.

"Sorry Steve, thanks for the offer though" you walk towards the van with a playful smile.

"Don't worry, Stevie" Eddie smirks, openening the passenger door for you. "I'll make sure she gets home... eventually"

Steve rolls his eyes and sighs, getting on his car.

As Eddie drives out of the parking lot, your friends yell: "Wrap it up, Munson!; Use protection!"

Once you arrive at Eddie's place, the door clicks shut behind you. The trailer is quiet. Eddie tosses his keys on the counter and turns to look at you.

He's like a wolf with its prey. His innocent and pretty lamb just waiting for him to devour her. His eyes raking over you. The silver ball still peaking out in between his lips while he stares at you.

"You look nervous" he murmurs, stepping closer.

"I'm not"

He smirks at that. "You're gorgeous, you know?"

"Just come here and kiss me" you chuckle.

That's all it takes, his hand finds your hair and his mouth is on yours before you know it.

You start making out. That metal ball right where you wanted it, agaisnt your own tongue, making you chase the feeling of it.

His hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips like he means to leave marks.

He walks you backwards, step by step, never breaking the kiss. Until you hit the edge of his bed and drop onto it.

He just stares at you for a moment.

“Wanna keep going?” he asks, raspy voice. And you nod. “That’s not a yes”

“Yes" you whisper.

He's on you again in a second, kissing you harder, with his hands all over you.

Then, his mouth moves south to your neck. Open-mouthed kisses to make sure you feel the metal.

You can't really register when exactly your shoes came off. If it was before or after your shirt was tugged over your head. Everything blurs around the way Eddie's hands grip you, or his mouth moves lower and lower on your throat, chest, stomach. Until it reaches your thighs.

He looks up at you with those botton eyes and you're not sure if he knows the effect they have on you. His hair brushes over your skin as he settles in between your legs, and the sight of him there —eager, ruined already.

His mouth is everywhere, slow at first, like he wants to savor your reactions —every twitch, every gasp, every whispered 'Eddie' that slips out. And that piercing is not just decoration.

It gets impossibly hot pressed against you in the best places. He flicks it, then drags it slow just to hear you.

You fist on those poor cushions. He grins against you, tongue insistent, fingers gripping your hips to keep you still.

Round one hits like a storm. Your thighs already trembling on his shoulders, his name repeated on your lips as you cum.

But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even give you time to think.

Round two is worse (or better). He's slower now. "You taste like fucking candy, sweetheart" he mutters, voice wrecked and low, sending you vibrations.

He uses his tongue flat, the piercing catching right on your clit, flicking it every two seconds. You're twitching, begging, already falling apart again.

When you finish for the second time, your mind is blank, eyes glassy.

He nips at the inside of thigh, mutters things against your skin you can't even hear.

And you think he’ll stop now.

He doesn’t.

By round three, you're gasping his name loudly. You're so sentisive that you could just start crying.

And he's not even close to done.

“Still with me, baby?” he murmurs, mouth hovering just above you. “You got one more?”

You nod, enthusiastic.

And he dives in again —addicted.

By the end, you're not sure if you're moaning or sobbing, maybe both. Your hips held tight in his hands while he licks through the waves of your orgasm.

And when he finally pulls back, he's got your slick down to his chin and all over his cheeks, that metal glinting in the low light, his hair wild, and a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Jesus, that was the best” he whispers, licking his lips.

You just reach for him and pull him up to another kiss.

Eddie goes to lie half on top of you, his arms around your waist, hair sticking to his cheeks, and his cheeks are flustered.

He could only describe you as a beatiful mess beneath him, bare and flustered, still catching her breath.

"I could use a cigarette now" he smirks and looks in his nightstand. Your gaze drops to the very obvious state of his jeans.

Tight. Painfully so.

The outline of him is already big.

You reach down and lightly brush your fingers over the bulge. He practically jumps.

He warns, calling your name.

You only tilt your head, voice teasing. "You really thought we were over?"

He groans, hiding his face in your neck. “I'm happy with what we did already”

"Yeah?" you grin, push him back a little, trailing your hand down his chest, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Well… but look at you”

He exhales, jaw clenching. “Don’t do that unless you mean it"

“Oh, I mean it,” you whisper, palming him over the denim now, watching the way his hips twitch towards you. “You’ve been walking around all night with that piercing like you invented sex. Thought we were done?"

He laughs, breathless, then moans as you unbutton his pants slowly, dragging the zipper down. He’s twitching, hard and thick, and so big.

And when you get your mouth on him, he moans louder.

"Fuck, sweetheart-"

You work him over with your tongue, taking your time, teasing, savoring. You want to make a mess out of him too.

Your tongue curls on his pink head, while you stroke the base.

And when you look up at him, mouth slick, eyes gleaming? Eddie loses it.

Groaning, head back, fingers fisting the sheets and your hair with the other hand. He whispers a string of curses and sweet nothings that make you want to ruin him.

"You're so good, baby. You're gonna make me cum, ruin that cute little face and make it mine"

He pushes you down slowly, further, so you're taking all of him.

"That’s a good girl, take all of it. God"

And when he finally comes, thighs trembling, moaning your name, you can only smile, licking your lips, and murmur:

“Now we’re even"

Eddie blinks, dazed. Then laughs, low and panting.

"So did you like the piercing?" he gives you a big smile when you go and lay next to him.

"Like is an understatement" you chuckle.

"Oh yeah?" he grabs your cheeks and gives you a quick kiss.

"Yeah, I might have a few other ideas we could try out"

"Oh, I like the sound of that," he gives you another kiss, "I have some ideas of my own too"

"Then we better get to it, big boy"

"We most definitely will, pretty girl"

[hyperfixationstation128]

When I was around 12 years old, I had a math teacher who despised me. The second she clapped eyes on me, she detested my very existence. I'm AuDHD and have Dyslexia, and I have always struggled with math. Numbers just don't make sense to my brain, and she took any moment she could to embarrass me. She would deliberately call on me to answer questions knowing that I would either get it wrong or would publicly struggle to figure it out. Be it my inability to process numbers, my constant reading in her class, or just the fact that she was a miserable old bat, she HATED me.

Coincidentally, during that time, I was going to brain therapy to help with my Dyslexia and would sometimes leave her class early to go to my lessons. One day, while we were doing a group math game, I was called to leave. My group was understandably upset because we were close to winning and now the groups were uneven. According to at least 4 separate kids, this bitch flat out said "Oh, don't worry. She wouldn't have gotten it right anyway." In front of the entire class.

I was mortified and immediately told my mother, who lost it. I'm talking marching up to the school office to demand a reprimand. Now, my mother is a 5'nothing twiggy thing, but she's got a voice like Zeus when she's angry. After that encounter and threatening to report her to the school board, the teacher left me alone. She never called on me, never spoke to me, hardly ever looked at me. I was just glad she wasn't berating me anymore.

This was a minor encounter compared to my Autistic sister's "Evil Teacher Story". I don't remember how old she was, but she was very young and her class was making friendship bracelets and she had accidentally added too many beads to her string. Upset and confused about what to do, she told the teacher. According to my sister, the teacher ripped the bracelet out of her hands, got in her face and hissed, "You don't deserve to have this anyway!" And cut it up right in front of her face. My sister had higher support needs as a child, so she was more of a target than I ever was.

I only ever had one good teacher who never picked on me. Mrs. Pasquet (I think that's how you spell it). She was my 4th-grade English teacher and she was incredible! She adored my writing and would ask if it was okay to share with the class, and I agreed, so long as it was anonymous. She was one of the sweetest people I'd met. I saw her again after dropping out of high school at my job once, and she immediately recognized me. Spent a solid 20 minutes talking to me, asking how I was doing, showing genuine concern and care (from what I can tell, at least)

I don't remember many details of my child and teenhood, but there are small moments that stick out to me where I felt incredibly lonely and ostracized by my peers. I didn't suspect I was Autistic until like 4 years ago, but I always knew something was "wrong" with me. I could never keep friends for longer than a couple of years, I was always the butt of the joke, the weird one, the mean one. That last label has followed me into adulthood. Everyone seems to think that I'm rude or mean because of my flat affect and the way I pick my words. I try, constantly, to be careful with what I say, but no matter what I do, it's always "Well, you could've said that nicer." Or "That was really rude. No, I'm not going to explain what was rude. You should know." Like, bro, I'm fucking trying here, man!

every piece of ""autistic representation"" in hollywood sucks not just because of the infantalization and inspiration porn but because movie executives always fail to realize the real universal autistic experience: spending your childhood slowly and unfalteringly realizing all of your friends not so secretly hated and/or merely tolerated you at best and you've missed every social signal about it ever

[formulafanfics13]

Heyyy Girlie! Just uhhh gonna drop this right here for ya!

Lando playing with you with your own toys in front of a mirror.

anyway uh who said that?? yall hear smth?

Toys - LN4 🔥

Masterlist

summary: you never meant for him to find them. the toys tucked quietly in your nightstand, hidden under books and tangled charger cables — they were your secret. but lando doesn't get embarrassed. he doesn't even flinch. he just smirks, pulls them out one by one, and tells you to sit in front of the mirror. by the time you're shaking, overstimulated and begging, he hasn't even fucked you yet. and he makes you watch every second.

warnings: mirror sex, toy play (vibrator and dildo), dom!lando, degradation + praise, orgasm control, overstimulation, light restraint, possessive behavior, voyeuristic themes, explicit language, reader is unnamed/undescribed, unprotected, rough and soft balance, intense smut, emotional manipulation kink

You're lying on your bed, legs tangled in the sheets, scrolling mindlessly through your phone while Lando rifles through your drawers looking for his charger. It's domestic, normal, routine, until it isn't.

There's a pause. A quiet, weighted shift in the room. And you look up just in time to see him hold something pink and silicone in his hand. He turns toward you slowly. "Really?" he asks, one brow raised.

Your stomach drops. "Lando-"

He pulls the drawer open further and laughs, low and delighted. "Oh, baby. You've been busy."

"Put those back," you blurt. "They're not for you."

"Not for me?" He raises both brows now, holding up the vibrator and a curved toy with a teasing glint in his eye. "That's rude. You touch yourself in this bed thinking about me, and I don't even get invited to the party?"

You open your mouth to protest. You don't even know what excuse you were about to make. But he just drops them on the bed and crooks a finger at you. "Get up."

"Lando."

"Now."

You move before you can think. Before the heat in his voice finishes spreading through your chest. You're in front of the mirror. Knees spread. Chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. Lando behind you, fully clothed, legs bracketing yours. The toys are laid out beside him. He's got one in his hand. The vibrator.

His voice is low in your ear. "Look at yourself. You're already so fucking wet."

You can't meet your own gaze at first. Your reflection looks obscene. Your skin flushed, thighs parted, nipples hard from the air and anticipation. His other hand trails up your stomach. "I want you to remember what you look like when I ruin you."

The vibrator hums to life. You twitch. He grins. He touches it to the inside of your thigh first, making you jump. Teases slow, upward strokes until it hovers just above your clit.

"How many times did you use this thinking about me?"

You shake your head. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

You gasp as he finally presses it to your clit, just barely.

"Tell me."

You try to speak. It comes out a moan instead. He smiles. "Fine. I'll guess. Was it last week? Before I got home from that shoot? Or the night I left you wet and whining because I had a flight to catch?"

Your entire body tenses as the toy presses harder. He circles slowly. Unrelenting. You whimper, hips rolling forward.

He grips your waist. "Sit still."

"I can't-"

"You will."

You try. God, you try. The first orgasm creeps up faster than you expect. Your thighs clench, stomach tightens.

"Lan-"

He pulls the toy away. Instantly. You sob. Actually sob. He presses a kiss to your neck. "Not yet. I haven't earned it."

He picks up the dildo next. Holds it out to you. "Show me how you fuck yourself."

Your hands are shaking. But you obey. Knees wide, legs trembling, you sink the toy inside yourself with a desperate sound. Your eyes flutter shut.

His hand grips your jaw. "Eyes on the mirror."

You look. You see it. Your own fingers. The toy. Your face, desperate and red. Lando watching it all with a kind of reverence and hunger that makes you tremble harder.

"You look so fucking good like this," he murmurs. "You see what I see? You see how perfect this pussy is?"

You moan. He presses the vibrator to your clit again. This time he doesn't hold back. You cry out, voice breaking. "That's it. Let me hear you. Let the whole floor know who you belong to."

You cum hard. Shaking. Writhing. Nearly collapsing in his lap. But he holds you up. Forces the toy back to your clit.

"Again," he says.

"Lando-"

"Again. You don't stop until I'm satisfied."

The second orgasm rips through you before you've fully come down from the first. You scream. You sob. You beg. He shushes you gently. Kisses your temple. "You're doing so good, baby. So fucking good. Look at you. Look at what a mess you are for me."

And you do. You watch yourself fall apart. For him. With him. And when he finally turns the toys off, pulls you back against his chest and holds you like you're something fragile and sacred, your body melts.

"You okay?" he whispers.

You nod. Barely.

"Next time," he murmurs, kissing the shell of your ear, "I'm fucking you in front of this mirror. And you're gonna thank me for every second of it."

And you know you will.

[vviltrumite]

— teenage fantasy ୭ˎˊ˗

⚛ mark grayson x you

wc :: 4,316 ( 23,442 char . )

rating :: nsfw

synopsis :: your brother started hanging out with this new kid—mark, you think his name is? you wondered why this new person was seemingly always around your brother, and tonight when he sleeps over you finally find out why.

contents :: brothers best friend , riding , slight age gap , sub mark , little plot , reader pov , mark is a little weirdo with a crush on u......

a/n :: I LOVE SUBMISSIVE MARK GRAYSON!!!!!!pushed the timeline of this back for the sole purpose of creating an age gap between u and mark. why? because i freaking felt like it ok maybe i like em younger. he's a sophomore, ur a senior. also for the sake of convenience were just gonna pretend that ur on the pill. ok? ok.

edit: Lol tumblr being stupid and deleted 3 paragraphs of writing but it's ok we fixed it😅ahaha😅😅I'm gonna shoot myself😅

Your brother had never been too ecstatic about friends. Not that he didn't want them, it was the actually keeping them part that he struggled with. Seemed like he could never keep the company of a friend for longer than a few months before they fell out with eachother, and whenever you would try to ask about it he would dismiss your attempt by simply saying something along the lines of "We just don't have time to talk as much anymore." or, "They're busy with sports and crap."

But more recently you've noticed that your brother was hanging out with someone new, and this time it was different. He would never fail to show up at your house during the weekends, always finding his way to your living room to play video games with your brother or making room for himself to fit in with whatever your family might have had going on that day, whether it be a dinner out at a restaurant, or even a trip to the movies, he always found time to tag along. He was practically part of the family, and it seemed like him and your brother were actually getting along quite nicely. You'd hear them from his room laughing about something unbeknownst to you just one wall over, or yelling about a game they were playing on his console and it made you glad to know that your brother finally had someone to confide in.

The boy seemed sweet with good intentions. Mark, you think his name is? Black hair with a few strands that never fail to stray from the combed back neatness of the rest of his hair and brown eyes that remind you of a warm coffee on a Saturday morning that you sip when your eyes are still tired and droopy, still on the edge of sleep but not quite. It would be a lie to say he wasn't handsome, but you never really gave him much more thought than that. You go to the same school as him, he's just two grades below you in his sophomore year with grades that aren't yet failing but theres still potential for them to be a lot better, but you chose to give him the benefit of the doubt since you heard from multiple sources that his father died in a car crash at the start of the year, so who knows how he's coping with that.

But that's not the point. the point is, Mark is now practically best friends with your brother and tonight, since your parents are away on a date, he's invited Mark to sleep over. Not that you really cared, you didn't pay him too much mind whenever he would come over since he wasnt your friend anyways. You mostly occupied the time in your room, but you never failed to notice the way he would try extra hard not to look at you whenever you made an appearance and still finding himself unsuccessful. Always stealing quick glances over to you and whatever you were doing. Always noticing the way he suddenly adorned a stutter—something which he had never had before, whenever he'd speak to your brother, pitching his voice an octave louder enough for you to hear.

Your day went on as it usually did, aside from those quick glances that Mark prayed you didn't notice. You always did, but never thought much of it. Maybe he was just intimidated by you, or something? You called your friends, made plans for the following morning, and before you knew it, the smell of food downstairs caught your attention. Glancing at the clock on your phone, it was now six, so you assume the smell downstairs is dinner.

Heading to your kitchen you realize that your brother and Mark had made french fries and were sharing them on a big plate on the counter. You help yourself to a fry, quickly snatching one from the plate before your brother has the opportunity to swat your hand away.

You crack a smile when he almost chokes on the fry he popped into his mouth when he turns to see you, and that only seems to make his cheeks redden. he tries making an attempt at playing it off by pressing the crook of his shoulder against his mouth and coughing into the faded blue of his cotton sweater sleeve, trying to disguise the malfunction, but any attempt he makes at hiding his embarrassment only points it out further.

"Get outta here! Those aren't even for you, make your own." He protests, stopping himself from extending his arm to push you back once he realizes he acted too late and that you've already succeeded in stealing a fry.

Rolling your eyes at his stubbornness, you retort. "You literally made the whole bag, you're not even gonna eat all that." You point out, grinning only because you find pleasure in annoying him.

He grumbles out a defeated "Whatever," only because Mark is here, and he doesn't want to cause a scene. But obviously you know your brother well enough to make the assumption that if Mark wasn't here, the stolen fry would be a much bigger deal than it is right now. But instead of taking advantage of this, you raise your white flag in surrender and instead make your way to the fridge, grabbing your leftovers from the fast food place you ordered takeout at a day and a half ago, reheating it before you head up to your room and feeling Mark's eyes on you the entire time.

You've just finished your shower by the time Mark and your brother are retired to his room for the night. It's late, probably eleven, but maybe closer to twelve, you're not sure because haven't checked the time. Your phone is in the bathroom, but you figure that you can just grab it when you're done changing since it isn't on the top of your list of priorities right now.

What is on the top of that list though, is changing into pajamas. Back turned from your bedroom door, you rummage through the top drawer of your dresser, trying to find that one tanktop you own, the black one. The one you have probably ten carbon copies of, but for some reason you want that tanktop in particular. Just as you set your eyes on it and move to pick it up, a noise at your bedroom door alerts you.

It's Mark. And you can tell by his expression that his heart lurches in his chest until it bobs in his throat when he sees you in nothing but a towel that clings loosely to your frame, the creak of the door in protest as he opens it had given you a split second to acknowledge his presence. It blows his cover and interrupts you just as you were about to let the towel fall down to your ankles. You to gasp as you whip your head around fast enough to see his face flush bright red and his hands that shoot up to cover his eyes immediately.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I— I didn't even realize you were— Jeez, that's so embarrassing. I'm sorry, I was just trying to bring you your— I'll go, sorry." He rushes, stumbling over his words that spew out from past his lips at a mile a minute, faster than he can comprehend despite his Viltrumite capabilities. He quickly turns on his heel and sheepishly reaches for the doorknob to walk himself out.

Your eyes meet his hand, where your phone rests in his palm and you know you should just let him leave it in the hall, but something in you, some unstoppable force that acts for you before the rational thought to stop and let him go even crosses your mind, and you step forward, then again, and the one more time until your hand is curled over his shoulder, effectively causing him to freeze in place. "Wait," you pause, tone sounding pitched and hesitant like you were holding something back, carefully pausing your breath between each word as if one wrong move could ruin the moment and send him off.

Until he doesn't. He doesn't leave, he doesn't brush you off and close the door behind him like he knows he should. He doesn't even say anything. Wordless as he turns to face you, and you realize he isn't scaring away anytime soon. He was cute, you admit, and the smile he lets tug at the corners of his mouth after his eyes graze over your almost naked form is contagious. He's younger, but stands taller than you by just a few inches and you figure.. Why not? He's clearly interested, and this obviously wasn't an accident. So why not let him indulge in this fantasy, if only for just one night? What do you have to lose?

"Is he...?" Tilting your head, letting your eyes flit behind you to the door, opened just a crack to let the strands of light from the hallway shed into your bedroom and bounce off of Marks shoulder, painting a thin line of hazy yellow against the carpet and walls of your bedroom.

He nods, shaking breath exhaled from his lips in a quick uneven sigh, his hand reaches behind him to click the door shut softly behind you both before bringing them back and letting the palm of his hands find home around the dip in your waist, skin warm against the cool of the towel that drapes around you. "Yeah, he's.. yeah."

Taking his hand and intertwining your fingertips with his, you guide him to your bed where he sits. Mark looks dazed and dreamy, like he can't tell if he's awake or not, can't believe this stupid teenage fantasy of his is actually happening, and that makes you giggle. You tell him to lay back and he does, the erection that strains from under his clothes becoming evident when he looks up at you from where his head rests on your pillow. He's unable to help it when his eyes rake over you again, greedily taking in the way your towel hangs loosely around you, threatening to slip at any second, and your hair falls messily over your shoulders. Perfectly unkempt and knotted in some places where you hadn't combed through it with a brush, but still somehow retaining some of its neatness in the mess.

It would be a lie to say he didn't roughly sketch this whole scenario out in his head. He knew when you got out of the shower and intentionally made his way to the bathroom when you left, only to realize you had forgotten your phone. Originally, he was just going to return it to you when you were done changing, find an excuse to talk to you even just briefly. But then the thought of maybe getting to see you bare crossed his mind, and it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He didn't want to wait. He didn't mean to open the door that much, didn't know it would creak in response to his weight when he leaned into it. And the last thing he expected was for you to reciprocate whatever it was he felt in that moment when you saw him. But... he wasn't against it, either.

You join him on your bed, letting your hand stroke over his pajama pants for a quick moment before you bring one leg over his and adjust yourself until you're comfortable on top of him, straddling with both of your legs at either side of his body. You don't miss the way his breath hitches when you suddenly lean in, supporting your weight with a hand that plants itself on his chest and folds underneath you when you close some of the distance between your faces. He looks about ready to kiss you, lips parted in a mix of what's probably both preperation and shock. but when you don't, he regards you curiously, the question unspoken but obvious in the air between you.

"You're sure you want to do this?" You ask, just to be safe, and he nods again. If your brother finds out about this, he'll be crushed, and Mark is old enough to know that he shouldn't be doing something like this. And so are you, to be fair. But it's obvious to the both of you that no one cares what you should or shouldn't be doing right now, too lost in the heat of your bodies as you press into one another and eventually finding your way to his lips, meeting him with a kiss.

It's slow at first, hesitant and experimental and filled with nervousness, but the action of your lips molding over his becomes more steady, more sure as his hands trace your sides in a caressing up and down movement, fervorous and quickly desperate for more. And after a moment he hooks his fingers around the top of your towel. A question, and when you pull back from him just to give him a smile that never fails to make him trip, an answer.

You hear it when his breath hitches in his throat at the sight of you fully exposed once the towel is discarded on the floor next to your bed. He lets his eyes travel down your body, taking all of you in. Mark looks almost awestruck, nervous to touch you the wrong way as if you were a porcelain statue to be displayed in a museum. You take his obvious hesitation as an invitation to guide him instead, and place the palm of his hand on one of your breasts before leaning in to take his lips in another kiss. He lets out a muffled noise against your mouth that you swallow up in response, and you feel his obvious erection pressing against you through his pants.

in a beat, the kiss becomes sloppy, messy and quickly not enough. You find yourself starved for more in an instant and before either of you realize, you're already fumbling with the drawstring that loops through his pants, working to untie them while his hands remain on your chest, preoccupied with molding the soft skin like puddy in his palm, an action that makes you moan softly, only really audible over the sound of your own breathless panting when you draw back from his lips to breathe.

"I don't think i should be the only naked one here." you suggest, your tone teasing. the sentence makes his eyes look over your body once again until he brings his gaze back up to you, and it's then that you notice his cheeks marooning once again, a small action that makes you grin.

"Yeah, probably." He agrees with a breathy, nervous laugh, shrugging your hands off of his chest for a moment so that he can lift his shirt off with ease, one hand pulling it over his head while the other remains firm on your waist. And it joins your towel on the ground seconds later.

His chest rises and falls unevenly, but thats not the thing that shocks you the most. You never would have guessed it since hes always wearing loose fitting clothes whenever you see him, but he's a lot more muscular than you imagined. Tracing over his defined stomach with your fingertips as you lean in to kiss him again is like charting over unexplored territory, grazing along each curve and dip in his abs.

And then you traverse lower across his skin until you're met with the fuzzy cotton of his plaid pajama pants once again and this time you don't falter. your index and middle finger curl to make room for themselves around the waistband and you shift just enough to tug them down to his knees. Mark doesn't protest and allows the action, lifting his hips slightly to help you.

Once his pants have been shrugged off, the hardness in his boxers is all the more evident, and it takes minimal effort to have them shrugged down as well. in moments his cock is exposed and you glance back up at him when you hear Mark suck in a breath through his teeth as the cool air of your bedroom envelops him.

"Still sure you want to?" You ask, glaring down at him through your eyelashes. There's still time for him to back out of this, if he really wants to. But it's clear that he doesn't when he nods and wraps his hands around your waist at either side. Not holding you down, but the action makes it clear that he doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon.

"Yeah, I'm sure, just.. please," His voice comes out a hoarse whisper, pleading and more desperate than he would've liked. He looks dazed, lidded eyes glazed over with something akin to need in the pupil and something about the way he says it, asks you so nicely, so sweetly despite the husky tone in the undercurrent of his words makes your stomach knot with a heat that begs to be untangled.

You look back down at his cock, flushed tip weeping and dewy with pre. your hand makes way to his shaft, offering a few slow strokes down to the base and back up to his tip where your thumb grazes over his hole, coating your fingertip in a sticky substance that smudges off when you bring your hand back down. the action makes him gasp like he clearly didn't expect you to move so suddenly, and he can't help but thrust lightly against the movement, his arousal evident when he whimpers through his bitten lip.

But when you pause yet again, he looks confused. mouth popped open, just slightly agape while his eyebrows pinch together. The silent question of "Whyd you stop?" on the edge if his lips, but he doesn't say it out loud. The air between you two is thick with want and a licentious desire to have your needs fulfilled hangs heavy in the space around you, in the darkness of your room.

The question doesn't remain unanswered for long, because in a second you're shifting to lift your hips up, hovering there for a quick, fleeting moment before lining the tip of him with your entrance. It takes him a second to realize what you're doing, but you give him time for the gears turning in his head to spin clearly. And once they do, his tongue flits out to lick over the edge of his lips and in an instant you've planted yourself down on top of him again, adjusted this time so that he fills you instead, and you feel his length twitch inside you at the sudden but certainly not unwelcome action.

Marks hands which had parted from your waist when you lifted yourself quickly find their way back home and he lets out a noise similar to a groan when you roll your hips against him, feeling the way your walls expand and clench around him and letting his gaze fall back to your bedroom ceiling, basking in the warmth of your body on top of him, rising and falling as you grind above him.

The whole ordeal is rather silent save for your ragged breaths and whimpers you muffle through bitten lips and stolen kisses. It's almost transactional, and you both have a clear understanding of what you're here for. This, the guilty pleasure you derive from mark inside you, and you around him. and nothing more. But still there's something that swims in the small amount of light reflecting in his eyes. Something that flickers for a brief moment, barely noticeable unless you were paying attention. Something that suggests their could be more to this, if you're willing to take that risk.

Mark looks back up at you, resisting the urge to let his eyes flutter shut simply because the sight of your body, the way your tits bounce with each rise and fall of your movements, it's something he doesn't want to miss a second of. And in fact it's almost too much—and if he wasn't trying as hard as he was to restrain himself right now, he would have came already. He keeps his hands on you the entire time, following the natural curve of your waist as he carefully slides up your side to knead at the soft flesh of your boobs once again.

You lean down until you're pressed flush againsthim once again, mouth on his partially to silence him, but mostly just to taste his lips. You're drinking up the sound of each quiet moan he can't help but pour out into you, feeling the way you rock your hips against him and getting lost in the rhythm. Carefully, you bring your mouth lower, sloppily pressing kisses deep enough to leave hickies into his collarbone and chest. The action is quick, hungry and almost primal as if you cant decide whether to bite softly at his skin or kiss him. Or if there was even a way to differentiate the two at this point. He lets a hand free from your side simply to find his way to your hair, pressing you impossibly closer in order to keep you there, clinging to you like if he let himself get too lost in the feeling then youd vanish.

Bringing yourself back up to admire your work, you let your eyes examine the hickies you placed carelessly on his body. You were merciful enough to not leave any in plain sight, lord knows how furious your brother would be if he woke up and saw Mark's neck riddled hickies that border on bruises. They mostly decorate where the neck of his shirt would start, easily able to be hidden away with a shirt overtop of them.

Soon, you find Mark holding you down against him, making the action of rolling your hips on his cock a challenge. But he takes the liberty of doing that for you, hands at your sides to guide you as he desperately thrusts deep enough into your pussy to hit your cervix and you arch closer to him as he pulls out, tip dragging over that spot that makes your stomach flutter and eyes roll back only to press into you again and again each time.

"Mark, I—" Your words are cut off by a moan that he quickly moves to cover with his mouth, hand grasping in your hair and tugging lightly to more easily bring you to his lips. He parts from you when the sound has faded and gone, and you bite your lip to prevent anything more from slipping.

"Shh," He hushes you, glancing for a split second to your bedroom door. Still shut, but your walls are thin, so the fact that you both need to be as quiet quiet as possible is non-negotiable right now. "I know, I know." He whispers against the side of your neck, kissing lightly at the sensitive skin there. The hand previously at your side wraps around you and runs over your back, curving as he feels over the way you arch into him in order to help his length fuck deeper into you.

In a moment, his voice is in your ear, whispering what almost sounds like nonsense, too drunk off the feeling of your walls fluttering around him with each thrust inside you that grows more rapid, more intense with each passing second. But you quickly decipher his words, despite the fact that they're short, breathy and would be inaudible if he weren't pressed so close against you. "Fuck, I.. I can't, I'm gonna.." He whispers the words like a mantra. You've never heard him curse before, so the fact that he is only serves to encourage your movements as you roll your hips with him inside you.

The action seems to push him over the edge with one final moan that causes a shiver to snake its way through your entire body, and soon after you feel the warmth of the white-hot ropes that are his come filling you, his hips stuttering, continuing to work his way through the orgasm with lazy thrusts as everything pumps out of him and into you. You follow suit soon after, the feeling of his release inside you being just enough to coax out a much needed orgasm of your own, the knot that had been tangling and building itself up inside you quickly dissolving as a blinding euphoria causes everything around you to dissolve for what feels like forever.

You're reduced to a boneless heap on top of him, unmoving with his cock still inside you. What remains of his semen dripping out of you like hot lava that oozes out of you, sticky and all too overwhelming. You both lay like that for a while, until eventually the time comes where Mark needs to leave. Return to your brothers room before he notices the disappearance. You're lifted off of him with ease and he lays you back on your bed with all the care in the world, making sure to leave you with a final kiss on your lips once his clothes are back on and you've both collected yourselves.

Once he leaves, and you hear the door to your brothers room click shut with a sense of finality, you realize one of two things is going to happen now. This could become a regular thing, one that you'll have to try and hide from your brother as well as sneak past your family, or this could be a one time thing. A spurr of the moment decision that will be glossed over and soon forgotten in a week's time. Some part of you, deep down, hopes for the latter.

[colossrat]

Marvel is stressbaking

Miss Marvel (Mary) with her lunchbox, not at all happy: Yay, brownies again…

Kid Flash: You don't want it??? They look delicious, why are u sad???

Mary Marvel: Sure, i mean, yes, they are delicious. It's just that I've been eating nothing but bakery stuff all month. Ever since the League and Fawcett problems started happening at the same time, Caps is so anxious and stressed that he is baking nonstop in his free time…

Kid Flash: So... Want my sandwich for those brownies?

Anyway, Kid Flash will gossip with Flash about Marvel's stress baking situation, Flash will tell Hal that Marvel is really anxious right now because hes not really taking time off and is using the kitchen to relieve stress. And Hal will gossip with Superman that Marvel is so tired of so many problems that hes stressbaking so hard that his whole family has diabetes right now

Of course, Superman will say the same to Trinity, and they'll call a meeting to talk about how good it is to take breaks, to stop for a while when everything gets overwhelming, and to let the league know why they are a team

In the end, Captain Marvel says, "Yes, yes, I totally agree"

Superman: Oh, really…? You agree that those with bad workaholic habits should take a break?

Marvel: Yes! Of course, we are a team, we will continue to be here to protect people so that those who need it can rest without worries!

Batman: "we"?

Marvel: Yes, indeed. I know Superman was being very subtle, but I think everyone here knows that a break would help you a lot, Mr. Batman!

Wonder Woman: Actually, we called this meeting to persuade you to take a break, brother. But now that you mention it, rest would do great things for both of you

Marvel: Yeah! --Um, actually, excuse me? Me? I don't need a break. I don't get tired

Batman: Even if you're not physically tired, everyone gets overwhelmed by constant work

Marvel: Does that include you?

Batman: No

Marvel: Yeah, I'm not taking a break. I'm fine, guys! I don't even know where you got that, that i needed a break

Flash: You may look fine, but we know that when you're at home, you cant stop stressbaking to a point where your family can't even think about sugar anymore!

Wonder Woman: You're one of the most dedicated members of the League. You always show up for your monitor duties, you never ask anyone else to take over, in fact, you're one of those who always accepts to cover for others

Superman added: At one point, we had to make a rule to limit the number of monitor duties someone could take. You pulled almost a week of night shifts in a row!

Marvel looked a little embarrassed by that.

Marvel: Well, what can I say? I enjoy what I do… yeah, okay, it's been a lot lately. With league obligations, Fawcett has some new villains, drug gangs, and drug trafficking to keep an eye on… And I also help Zoom (Darla) and Circuit (Eugene) with the housework… I walk Thunder(Pedro) to his baseball practices and games… I deal with Junior (Freddy's) school problems… and I've been wanting to go shopping for new clothes with Miss (Mary) for a while now… I also got a new job… a civilian job… on top of the freelance work I started to help with the bills…

JL:

Marvel: actually i think I'll take a break. Yeah, it's not as bad as it could be

JL:

Marvel: But only If Batman takes a week to rest too!!

Just to recap some of the hcs here.

Billy is 15 years old and was homeless like all the other kids (except Mary, who lives with the Brombofiled)

The kids were adopted, and Billy still keeps in touch

He visits Darla and Eugene's backyard to chat and help with their homework with Solomon's wisdom.

He walks with Pedro to practice and never misses a game.

He waits for Freddy after school every day to defend him from bullies if they try anything

And occasionally hangs out with Mary as civilians to keep in touch with his sister

He works as a freelancer selling photos for the Whiz and was recently hired as an internthere too. Now he's even have a roof!! and a kitchen and money to bakestress, always making and sharing desserts with his siblings

[81astriss]

do you think i have forgotten about you? | arthur leclerc

fem!reader x arthur leclerc

2.8k words

in which you and arthur have been exchanging letters since childhood until one day, he stops.

a/n: just re-read five survive by holly jackson (5* read i def recommend 😛) !!! this is semi-inspired by arthur's letter to red and bc i miss the pen pal i had when i was like 10 :(

playlist

March 29, 2007

To: Y/n

Hello, this is Arthur. My maman told me that writing letters would better my english but I think my english is fine? Anyways, I am from Monaco and I like racing like my brother and my father. Love for racing just runs in the genes I think. What do you like? I don't have much to say honestly so I'm sorry that this is your first impression of me. I hope you're doing good.

From: Arthur

⎯

April 10, 2007

To Arthur,

Hello! I'm Y/n, as you already know. I've been expecting your letter actually! My mother said you'd be writing. This is actually so cool I've always wanted a pen pal :o

I like music, I play piano. I don't know much about racing but I will ask my dad about it! Looking forward to exchanging more letters with you. And don't worry about your first impression, it is okay for me!

- Y/n :)

⎯

August 8, 2011

Dear Y/n,

I don't understand how you enjoy going to school. I would much rather do karting all day everyday. My dream is to get into F1 (like I already said about a million times) and it's useless to sit in school learning fractions.

My grandmother is making me learn piano. I don't want to but since you play the piano, I'll learn it so I can play with you when you go here :D Watch out though, I might become better than you!

Nothing entertaining has happened recently but if something does, I'll make sure to tell you first.

Love, Arthur

P.S. Charles says hi. He thinks this is a love letter??? (ew)

⎯

August 20, 2011

Dear Arthur,

To be honest, I don't enjoy school at all. I only get excited to go here for my friends and because I like learning about countries. I want to travel a lot when I'm older. The first country I'll visit is Monaco so maybe you can show me around! We can talk about F1 (i've been learning more about it) and piano now that you're learning it.

And speaking of piano, there's absolutely NO way that you're going to get better than me at it. Between the two of us, I am THE piano master >:) Though you should listen to your grandmother and learn. It's a beautiful instrument and it sounds magical if you play it well. But even if you learn, you'll never get better than me hehee

Nothing much has also happened in my life (unfortunately) but I'll write right away when something does happen!

Love, Y/n

P.S. Hi Charles :D This is not a love letter, that's gross and also we're 10. And also I found a pink pen :P

⎯

February 14, 2014

Dear Y/n,

Happy valentines! Although by the time this reaches you it won't be valentines anymore. Some girls left letters in my locker and while I appreciate the effort, it sucks that I have to turn them down because I'm not interested in them. Do you have a valentine this year? Charles gave a girl chocolates that had nuts and she said she was allergic lol. It was so embarrassing to watch.

And while we're on the topic of Charles, don't tell anyone but we don't have enough money to let both me and him do racing. Honestly, I don't know what to do. I might quit just so he could continue because he's a much better driver than I am. He has a better shot at getting into F1 than I do. But I love racing and my brother. I really do. It's just sad that I will have to stop for a bit.

Now change topic so it isn't sad, I'm so good at piano now. Like Beethoven is shaking in his grave. You can't compare :P Guess who's the piano master now. >:)

Love, Arthur

⎯

February 14, 2014

Dear Arthur,

It's valentines again! I still don't have a valentine again this year and it SUCKS! All my friends and even my teachers have one. This isn't fair. Is this what it's like to be a teenager? Lonely and sad and falling behind in love?

February 26, 2014

Hey, I just got your letter. I'm so sorry to hear that, what you're doing for Charles and for your family is really selfless and shows how generous you are. I admire what you're doing. Is there any way we can help financially? Maybe my mom can send you money? Remember I'm always here for you if you need emotional support from so many kilometers away >:) and hey, when you get the money, you can come back even better eh? Don't feel too bad.

And now that I'm done comforting you... There is NO WAY in hell that you're that good. Beethoven is shaking in his grave because you're using his name in vain. Don't get cocky now. When we meet, I challenge you to a piano playing challenge which rules are ones that I haven't thought of yet. >:(

Write back, Beat oven!

Love, Y/n

⎯

March 29, 2014

Dear Arthur,

I think my other letter may have gotten lost in the mail haha... it was about valentines and a reply to you having to take a racing hiatus and comparing you to the legend himself, Ludwig van.

Okay anyways. Life updates from me are: I started learning violin and my mother and I might go to Paris! I'm so excited because this is the first time I'll go out of my country :D

But anyways, how are you doing? How are you holding up given everything?

Write back!

Love, Y/n

⎯

August 10, 2014

Dear Arthur,

If you hate me you can just say so :/ Nah I'm joking but I'm sending this from another post office because I think the other post office keeps losing my letters for some reason. I don't think they're reaching you so that's my explanation if you haven't heard from me over the past months. Promise I'm not ignoring you!

It's been a while since I heard from you. It's unusual, not seeing your name in my mailbox. I hope you're doing okay. :)

Write back soon!

Love, Y/n

⎯

October 14, 2014

Happy birthday, Arthur!

Enjoy your golden birthday :O I hope that only good things come for you today and for the rest of your life <3

Still haven't heard from you for 8 months. Did you move away without telling me? Have you forgotten about me? Okay it's wrong for me to ask this on your special day. I'm sorry for being selfish.

Happy 14th! Enjoy your day.

Love, Y/n

⎯

December 25, 2014

Dear Arthur,

MY CHRISTMAS GIFTS WERE SOOOO COOL!!!!!!

I got a lego airplane, a guitar, and a bike! I've been asking for a bike for so long and now I finally get to have my own! What about you what did you get for christmas?

Please write back, thanks!

Love, Y/n

⎯

January 1, 2015

Dear Arthur,

Happy new years! What's your new years resolution? Mine is to get even better at violin, travel more, and do better in school.

Please write :(

Love, Y/n

⎯

October 14, 2015

Dear Arthur,

Happy birthday! :)

Love, Y/n

⎯

December 25, 2015

Dear Arthur,

Merry Christmas to you and your family! :)

Love, Y/n

⎯

January 1, 2016

Arthur,

Happy new years.

- Y/n :)

⎯

March 29, 2017

I miss your letters, Arthur.

Love, Y/n

⎯

July 17, 2024. You were on day 2 out of 3 of your visit to Monaco, the place you've always dreamed of going to.

It was a Wednesday, and the cafe you entered was filled with people. You looked around for a place to sit and saw only one seat available on a table for 2. There was a man on the other end of the table, someone you didn't recognize at all.

"Hi, is this seat taken?" You ask, gesturing to the one across him.

"Ah, no it isn't," he smiles, "feel free to occupy it."

The man looked like he walked straight out of a romance book. He had brown, unkept hair that also looked fixed at the same time—a look which he somehow pulled off. His eyes were somewhere you could get lost in and his french accent was prominent. Maybe this was your romcom moment, you thought, meeting someone in a coffee shop in a foreign country.

You sat there, staring out the window, admiring the scenery while he just stayed on his phone. Not long after, the barista called out your name and drink.

"Thank you for letting me sit for a while."

"It's no problem, really."

"I'm Y/n by the way." You give out your hand and he shakes it before you walk away.

Y/n.

Your voice echoed in his ears as the sound of your name sent waves throughout the boy's entire being.

He watched as you exited the cafe, drink in the hand that shook his. Your touch still lingering on his palm.

⎯

July 17, 2024

My dearest Y/n,

You're just as beautiful as I imagined you to be.

Love, Arthur

⎯

July 18, 2024

Y/n,

Okay that first letter was so out of place and not good to send as a standalone haha. Sorry about that!

Okay for real now, I'm sorry I stopped writing. To be honest, I don't have an excuse for it. I was stupid and with everyone being on their phones more often, I got lazy to write.

I kept your letters in case one day I found the motivation to write back, even though I never did. I'm sorry for making you feel like your letters never reached me at all. I'm sorry if you thought I forgot about you. I never did, not once. I could never forget you. I shouldn't have done that to you, I know. I'm sorry, I truly am. I should've given you another way to contact me or stayed in touch even if I had nothing to say instead of leaving you in the dust. I was young and stupid. I'm sorry.

You can hate me. You probably already do and I understand and respect that. I deserve it. But I want to reconnect with you again, if you'd let me. I promise I'll do better than I did at 14.

Sincerely, Arthur

⎯

August 1, 2024

Arthur.

What the fuck. There has to be something wrong with you because what. the. fuck.

So you didn't move away or die or whatever and you just ignored me for YEARS? I think I would much rather be forgotten. That's a lie. I wouldn't. But you can't just say "You're as pretty as I thought you were" or some shit and pretend that fixes EVERYTHING.

You're right! Wow! I do indeed hate you for not writing. You're an asshole. You made me look stupid thinking I was writing to the air for years. I hate you. How dare you even try to contact me again. You can't just do that. You can't just ignore me for years then write to me again and pretend like nothing happened then just move past it.

But in all honesty I've missed your letters. I've missed seeing your name in the mail. I've missed you.

Nice to finally meet you in person, I guess.

Y/n

⎯

August 19, 2024

Dear Y/n,

This won't reach you in time for Zandvoort so will you please come to Monza for the race please? I'll pay for everything. Your flight, your hotel, your food, everything. I want to speak to you in person. Please.

Love, Arthur

⎯

August 27, 2024

to: Arthur Leclerc arthurleclerc@gmail.com from: Y/n L/n youremail@domain.com subject: Monza GP Invitation

Fine, I'll be there.

Y/n

⎯

September 2, 2024

Dear Y/n,

Thank you for letting me in your life once again. I'm so glad I got to catch up with you. I've clearly missed a lot in your life, I mean obviously a decade is a long time but still. I don't have much to say since they were already said in person.

You really are more beautiful than what I imagined (that's not an insult, please don't take that the wrong way.) It feels like I could stare at you for an eternity. If Charles from 13 years ago saw this letter I'd be teased relentlessly for writing a 'love letter' but it's true. You truly are one of the most gorgeous people I've seen.

Write back, hopefully?

Love, Arthur

⎯

September 19, 2024

Arthur,

Another letter? Wow, you really do enjoy pushing your luck. But then again here I am replying so your gamble was worth it in a way.

I admit it was nice catching up with you. It made me realize how much we've grown from the kids we once were and what a huge part of your life I wasn't in. You really missed a lot in my life and I also missed a lot of yours. I still remember making a promise about how we would tell each other when something major happens.

Congratulations to Charles for P1 in Monza and P2 in Baku.

- Y/n

⎯

December 7, 2024

Dear Y/n,

I was able to drive alongside Charles in free practice! Don't know if you watched it. It was amazing and full of emotion. It was so surreal and I wish you were there to see it in person.

Love, Arthur

P.S. This is me keeping my end of the promise and updating you with every major thing that happens in my life.

⎯

December 25, 2024

Merry Christmas, Y/n.

Love, Arthur.

⎯

January 1, 2025

Merry Christmas and happy new year, Arthur. (& to your family as well)

Thank you for finally keeping your end of the promise. Took you long enough. Seems like your wish of making it into F1 doesn't seem so far? Good to be updated again with all the happenings in your life.

I'm so thankful we were able to talk again after so long. Even though I was dead set on loathing your entire existence for the rest of my life, I'm glad I didn't continue with that mindset.

I hope only good things come your way. Keep in touch?

Love, Y/n

P.S. Sorry for taking a bit long to write back (even tho u took longer)

⎯

January 1, 2025

Dear Y/n,

Happy new year to you and your family!

Thank you so much for letting me back into your life. I wasn't sure if you still would given that I did you so dirty back then. Glad that we're able to move past that and focus on our friendship now.

May the new year only bring you good luck and things and more travels.

Love, Arthur

P.S. Take as long as you want, I'll just be here waiting.

⎯

March 29, 2025

Arthur,

Honestly, I don't have anything else to say but I'm going to Monaco in a few days. I might already be there by the time this reaches you. I hope I see you around.

- Y/n

⎯

Sure enough, you do end up seeing him in the same cafe that you saw each other last year.

"What are the odds that I see you in the same cafe in the same spot?" You go up to him, holding your drink.

"Maybe it's fate?"

"Or maybe you're stalking me."

He leans back in his chair. "Well me, I just so happen to like this place. And you also sent me a letter saying you'd be here."

Monaco really is a small country.

You sit on the chair opposite his, looking out the window and admiring the view. You could stare at it for the rest of your life and never get tired of it.

You glance back at Arthur, who was also looking at the beautiful scenery outside. You could never get tired of him either.

⎯

April 19, 2025

Dear Y/n,

This might be too soon to ask and I know I am really pushing my luck by asking this but please don't hate me. Please.

Can I court you?

This wasn't just some random thought that occurred in my mind out of nowhere on a random Saturday. I just realized it when I saw you in the cafe for the second time. Maybe it really was fate or my stubbornness or your patience with me but whatever it was, somehow the universe always finds a way to bring me back to you. I realized then that I could get used to it—being with you for the rest of my life. I would never get tired of going to that cafe and admiring all the places I grew up seeing even if I go there every single day if it means I get to do it with you.

I know the time might not be right but I couldn't help myself any longer.

Love, Arthur

P.S. Again, please don't hate me.

⎯

May 1, 2025

To: Arthur

Yes, you may.

Love, Y/n

⎯

May 16, 2025

Y/n,

I knew it was bound to be a love letter one day.

- Charles

P.S. If ever he ghosts you again tell me. I will deal with him myself.

woooo first fic that isn't part smau (besides the email part but shhhh) !??!?! not proofread, apologies for any mistakes :)

♡ xine

[astrae4]

BOYNEXTDOOR WITH DIFFERENT PARTNER TROPES 🍊

pairings — boynextdoor x reader

genre — romance, slice of life, fluff, comedy

warnings — noneeeee! (wc. probs around 400-1k)

note — requested by my lovely 🍊 anon <3 hope you love it dearie (p.s. you can totally see that this was made in two different days bc halfway thru this my writing locked in..)

more works: navigation | bnd!masterlist

MYUNG JAEHYUN | with a clingier partner

impressed. did not think anyone could be as clingy as him but it all went down the drain and proved wrong when he met you. you guys are TOP TIER pda couple. there is no other way. the members are 100% grossed out. do you care? no. should you care? probably…but anyways! you’re always together, wether it be going out for midnight snacks or group hangouts. attached to the hip. even when you’re not holding each other’s hand one person is always holding the other’s belt hoop, the ends of the other’s sweater, or even intertwining legs under tables...you get what i mean. cheek to cheek is so common with jaehyun and you guys LOVEEEE it! overall you guys are toothache-tier sweet and a perfect match for the other!

PARK SUNGHO | with a habitual bone-cracking partner

he tries not to cry with how much you crack the joints of your knuckles and ankles, but with the constant pop of your bones it’s hard not to. He doesn’t know how to respond…concerned? Impressed? But one time you did it nonstop while counting to 100 ( real story btw i once popped my ankles 100 times nonstop in the car because I was bored ) and he just went 😦 because what is he supposed to respond to that? Definitely nags you LOADS though—pulling out all different kinds of articles of how bad it is for you to do so and when you don’t listen to him he begs you to stop doing it until you listen to him. Bribes you with home-cooked dinner as well to not do it for a month or whatever…and well, you aren’t gonna say no to that are you?

LEE SANGHYEOK | with a gamer partner

Sleepless nights become endless. But it’s fun; and with riwoo and you, life’s never dull. You're each other's partners in crime, each other's co-op teammate, and especially each other's rival in 1v1s. Competing with Riwoo in games is a must, for sure. it brings both your competitive spirits out and you usually add a wager to spice it up! If you're both good, enemy teams definitely hate you both. When one of you isn't in the mood to play games though, quality time is still really enjoyable— in fact, your favorite nights consist of you sitting on Riwoo's lap comfortably and napping while Riwoo grinds on LOL. Or when you play mobile games on the bed or couch and Rico puts his head on your lap to semi-cuddle with you. It's comfortable. Especially on days where both your social batteries run out and you don't want to speak anymore. One match to unwind, ya’know?

HAN DONGMIN | with a nonchalant partner

Sometimes people don’t even realize you two are dating. Taesan’s not used to that. With his members, his family—even past situationships—he’s always been the one people cling to. The one who gets showered with affection. But you’re different. You’re chill, unreadable, a textbook T in the MBTI system. And somehow, that makes him crave you even more. You don’t reach for his hand unless there’s a reason. You don’t baby him with goodnights or emojis. You’ll look at him with that neutral expression and ask, “You good?” and for some reason, that makes his heart pound. He starts being the one to reach first—with hugs, with compliments, with late-night texts that say “home yet?” like he’s trying to decode what love looks like through your eyes. It takes longer than most couples to get to pet names or “I love you’s.” But when it happens, it lands. It feels earned. Real. And yeah, emotional talks between the two of you always come with a bit of awkward silence or one of you going “this is so cringe,” but somehow… that makes it more you.? Dongmin wouldn’t trade it for anything.

KIM DONGHYUN | with a picky-eater partner

Honestly? It’s kind of hilarious how badly matched you both are when it comes to food. He’s picky, you’re picky—just in opposite ways. He doesn’t like things that are too sweet, you refuse anything that smells like vinegar. He can’t do weird textures, you can’t do anything green. Going out to eat is a minefield. Sometimes you spend longer choosing a restaurant than actually eating at it. But somehow, it works. You learn each other’s quirks fast—like how he always picks onions out of his food and you hand him your egg yolks without a word. There’s an unspoken routine to it now. People tease you both all the time, but it just makes you weirdly closer. There’s something oddly intimate about side-eyeing each other’s plates like “you’re seriously eating that?” but still sharing bites anyway. If anything, it makes your bond stronger. Neither of you feels judged. You get it. You understand. The picky solidarity is real. And when you both actually like something? Instant core memory unlocked.

KIM WOONHAK | with a dyslexic partner

Woonhak doesn’t mind reading things for you. In fact, he kind of… likes it? The first time you ask him to check a message because the words keep scrambling, he just nods, reads it casually, and hands your phone back like it’s no big deal. Because to him, it isn’t. He doesn’t see you as slow or weird or “bad at reading.” You just read differently. And if your eyes get tired or the letters bounce on a bad day, he’s already offering to help before you even say anything. The best part? He never makes you feel self-conscious about it. He’ll find creative ways to support you—voice notes instead of long texts, jokingly acting like a “human audiobook,” even quietly adjusting the subtitles so you don’t have to say it’s too fast. He’s sweet about it, but never coddling. You’re still sharp, still cool, still someone who gets his dumb references before he finishes them. And if you make a typo or skip a word? He just grins and says, “No worries. I understood you anyway.”

TAGLIST: @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @teddywonss @taerae-verse @bbangbies @uncasings

NETWORKS: @onedoornet @k-films @k-labels

© astrae4 2025 — please don't copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

[simspaghetti]

Took me a while, but I finally sourced the mods I use for Late Night gameplay - you can find the rest of my EP lists all linked here under ‘Modpack Lists’ :)

Firstly, an important note about Bridgeport performance & mods:

Bridgeport is a notoriously unreliable town, I personally only got it to load once I had a big mod cleanout, but I know other people haven't had problems with this, so it seems to be luck of the draw tbh - if you're going to be playing in Bridgeport, I'd recommend limiting your mods to the bare essentials as much as possible - make sure you don't have a whole bunch of script mods installed at once, as that appears to be a contributing factor, and uninstalling resource-heavy mods such as NRAAS Storyprogression has helped others as well - anyways, good luck & I hope you're able to get it to work!

And as always, if you have any other suggestions of mods I should add to this list, please let me know!

With that disclaimer out of the way, onto my modpack for Late Night! ⬇️

EllaCharmed's Fixed Bridgeport

I've heard mixed things about the world fixes, but Bridgeport is so buggy I couldn't get it to work no matter what I tried (I think my mods folder is too big) - some people said this fix worked for them and it's worth a try if you're having issues!

NRAAS Overwatch

This mod is an essential in any sims 3 save - but especially in Bridgeport as cars / sims tend to get stuck way more often!

Faster Elevator Moving / Loading

This can help reduce lag in cities with elevators as normally they take an age

LN Camera Fix

This fixes the issue with the camera in high-rises going all over the place when you're in tab mode, and allows you to control it better - it also removes camera drift & increases the camera lower / maximum placement This mod is incompatible with Aikea Guinea's lower/no drift camera mod - but it has all the same features as that mod, so you can just replace it!

Ani's SimDrinks / 'Get Drunk' Mod / Drunk Walk Version / PhoebeJaySim's Drunk Mod

Gives your sims moodlets / reckless impulsive interactions / mood buffs depending on how much 'juice' they have at the bar, which makes clubbing much more fun imo - the only thing about Ani's mod that's kind of unrealistic is that the moodlets last 24 hours! But for me, the entertainment factor of my sims turning up to work still drunk from the night before is pretty funny, so the length of the moodlet doesn't bother me :P

The 'Drunk Walk' version makes sims walk with the 'pond walk' from Seasons when they have the 'drunk' buff (I'm not sure if seasons is required for this to work, but it might be!)

PhoebeJaySim's Mod is newer and it has quite a few more interactions available!

LazyDuchess's Lot Population Mod

This one is an essential for any town really - but it's especially good in Bridgeport as it means the clubs and so called 'hot spots' actually have other sims in them instead of being completely empty

New Dance Routines Mod

Adds in new dance interactions for sims, using animations from the sims 4 - sims will do these actions autonomously so it adds in a bit more variety for nightclubs

Subway Charge

Does what it says on the tin, sims now have to pay a variable amount for a subway journey based on their age

Less Space Needed for playing Bass

Very small fix that reduces routing issues with sims playing the bass

No Stretch 'Children Can' Series

As well as adding a bunch of interactions from other EPs, this mod also allows ur kiddos to play the instruments that come with Late Night, which is my favourite use of this mod (as it makes no sense to me that kids can't learn the piano until they're teenagers!)

Better 'Lifestyle of the Rich & Famous' LTW

Updates this LTW to make the money goal higher and adds in a 5-star celebrity requirement - making it much better for Late Night gameplay

Celebrity Difficulty Mod

Makes becoming a celebrity variably more difficult depending on what version you choose - this also makes the celeb system less annoying as your sims have much less of a chance of accidentially becoming famous This mod also alters what actions are seen as 'disgraceful', so getting divorced or having a child out of wedlock will no longer make your sim be banished from society

Bouncers want bigger bribes

This list is becoming 'how to make your sims lives harder' but that's just how I like to play my game lol I love a struggle - anyway this mod does what it says on the tin - bouncers want higher bribes so your sim genuinely won't be able to get into an exclusive lounge if they're broke (which makes gameplay much more realistic)

Only Papparazzi / Occult can 'Eat Cake' from Cowplant

This mod is really silly, but I love it because it means you can pop a cowplant outside your celebrity houses to act as a bodyguard against paparazzi - which I think is just a really fun feature bc paps are annoying asf and there's not really another way to protect against them lol

🦇Vampire Mods:🦇

sHoNi's Vampire Overhaul

I personally use Bite, Minor Things and Thirst - it alters some things about vampires that used to be small annoyances for me (eg: you now don't have to ask to bite sims, you can just attack them - which makes much more sense!)

Nraas Vampires & Slayers (Storyprogression Module)

Contains a bunch of new 'personalities' for NPC vampires, this basically makes them a bit more dangerous / impactful to the gameplay of your town as NPCs will convert other sims to be vampires etc

Dead People Don't Glow

This stops vampires having that visual 'glow' override that can look kind of weird and yellow/greenish - this mod has been said to work for some peoples games and not others, I have no idea why that is, but it works for me on the most recent patch! I'd recommend putting it in your 'overrides' folder instead of your main 'packages / mods' folder as that appears to make a difference for some if it's not working

Silent Vampire Run & Powers

Turns off the noise for some of the vampire effects - which can get obnoxious / annoying after a while if you're playing with a main sim who's a vampire

Human lifespan for supernatural sims

Some people love the fact that vampires (and other occults) are basically immortal in TS3 - I'm not one of them as I usually play vampires in households with other human sims and it annoys me that they don't age, this mod makes it so that they live a normal lifespan :)

NectarCellar's Vampire CC: Default Replacement Bite & Accessory Fangs

This is not a mod - but I couldn't help but put this CC in here because it really improves the look of Vamps imo!

[jungkoode]

OUT OF LINE | 02

˗ˏˋ where promises go to die ˎˊ˗

"Grief doesn't rot like lilies—it evolves. Sometimes into walls that keep everyone out, sometimes into bridges you never expected to build. Madrid is teaching you the difference."

next | index

— chapter details

word count: 8.5k

content: grief processing, mother's death aftermath, ferret therapy, university friendship dynamics, barcelona nostalgia, jungkook brotherly comfort, provocative physio session, inappropriate medical sounds, taehyung being insufferable on purpose, whatsapp group chat chaos, nike dinner setup, family obligation pressure, madrid vs barcelona culture clash

—author's note

Hello monsters, gremlins, goblins, and yes—you, the one under the table hoarding the peanut cookies like they're State Secrets. You've been reported to the Kiki Nation High Tribunal. Formal charges include: cookie hoarding, suspicious crunching noises, and bribing witnesses with chocolate chip alternatives. Justice will be served. Possibly with milk.

Now, AS FOR THIS CHAPTER. AHAHAAHA. Okay. So.

Right out the gate we start with That Scene. You'll know when you see it. Some of you may be tempted to go "Kiki why did you put your entire kikussy into poetic and ambiguous language???" and to that I say: THANK YOU FOR ASKING, MR. INVISIBLE. You see—my girl Y/N is grieving. And not in the cinematic way, but in that awful, quiet, dissonant way. The kind where everything looks almost normal, sounds almost right, but you're not in it. That suspended, floaty, untethered state where you're just... drifting. I wrote this opening with the intent to evoke, not explain. Because I don't think grief—real grief—ever makes clean narrative sense. It's messy. It loops. It aches. It dissociates. So her inner monologue reflects that.

BUT. I didn't want it to be bleak. So I slipped in a little light: female friendship. You guys know how much I value it. Sofia Chen = my babygirl already. Her screen time may be short but her impact is earthquaking. Also: brace yourselves for the physio intern. I'm not spoiling anything but AAAAA. The little scream I let out when writing him was medically concerning. Just know you're gonna love him. I do. I really do.

Then there's that Taehyung scene. The physio session. Yeah. That one.

Okay so—Coke Zero? TRACK IT. It is not a throwaway. Put it in your mental detective wall with the red string. That detail's doing work.

Now let's talk about what's really happening in that scene: you've got a man weaponizing his body as a final line of defense. He can't stand the thought of being unimpressive—of someone not reacting to him. So what does he do? He performs. Gets obscene. Pushes boundaries. Pokes at discomfort. He's like: if you don't like my mind, my attitude, my words—then at least flinch for my abs. Validate me with your silence, if nothing else. And she doesn't. And it bothers him. He's fishing. And if that doesn't tell you everything about the man's psyche—Listen. I said what I said.

Also. Can we collectively scream about how every private university is just a glorified capitalist PR firm?? I wanted to reflect that weird, fake "we're all a happy family :)" collaboration tone between institutions. The smiley emoji energy that reeks of Excel spreadsheets and nepotism. If you know, you know.

Finally: THE GROUP CHAT SCENE. My ✨ magnum opus ✨ Marco is literally an idiot and possibly irredeemable but I hate how funny he is. It's the banter. The banter is what gets him laid. Leo = my Shayla. I want to protect him so bad. Who knows if I will. Point is—I loved being able to start showing more team names and dynamics. There's something really special about letting a cast feel lived in. You're only seeing glimpses—but those glimpses are building a very specific emotional architecture for what's to come.

ANYWAY. That's enough from me. Enjoy the chapter. Scream in the tags. Track the Coke Zero. And for the love of Jungkook's tattoos, STOP HIDING THE PEANUT COOKIES. I SEE YOU.

– Kiki ♡

— read on

read author intro + tws (must)

lineverse guide

between the lines (jk’s story by @writesvani)

read on wattpad

read on ao3

Kiki Nation’s discussion thread for this chapter

Where do promises go when left unattended?

You wonder if they rot, like lilies left too long in water. Or if they just fade, the way the scent of your mother's perfume used to linger in the hallway—now gone, replaced by the sterile tang of Madrid tap water and overpriced detergent.

It's a question you've long buried, somewhere between the unpacked boxes in your Madrid bedroom and the ache that still sits heavy when you think of your dad's tired eyes.

Or maybe it's bigger than that—your whole damn life, a scrapbook of sweet nothings you swore you'd keep. Staying in Barcelona. Holding tight to Mom's hand in memory. Rooting for a team that felt more like family when yours got ripped in half.

Death didn't just knock that day; it kicked the door down, left the air thick with something sour, like rotting lilies.

Mom used to fill the house with them.

White ones from the market on Sundays, yellow ones she'd steal from the neighbor's garden when she thought no one was looking.

Now you can't walk past a flower shop without your throat closing up, without that familiar knot threatening to crawl up and spill everything you've been swallowing down.

University isn't the escape you hoped for. Not the endless readings on joint mechanics, not the sterile newness of a city that still feels like a borrowed coat, and definitely not the present, which drags like a bad hangover.

You're two weeks into this Madrid experiment, and every day is a reminder of what's gone.

But then, somehow, there are people. Small, unexpected pockets of something lighter that make it easier.

You just never expected easiness to have a name like Sofia Chen.

You're slouched in a lecture hall at UEM, campus filled with the kind of international crowd that makes you feel both invisible and exposed. End of September, semester just kicking off, and the air's got that crisp edge that doesn't match the heat still clinging to the streets outside.

Sofia's next to you, scribbling in her notebook with a focus that's almost annoying. Almost. Meanwhile you—well, you're scrolling through your phone, thumb flicking over a screen that's stubbornly empty of anything worth reading.

No messages from Dani.

Not that you expected any.

You told yourself the distance—geographical, emotional, whatever—would be the perfect excuse to untangle the mess of feelings you've carried for him since you were sixteen. Unreciprocated, unspoken, and now, unnecessary.

Doesn't stop the sting, though. Expected hurt still hurts.

Your fingers drift to Jungkook's chat instead. A few unread messages, probably memes or some random check-in. He's the only thing that feels like home lately, a tether to Barcelona that hasn't snapped yet.

You don't open it. Not here. Not with Sofia's voice cutting through your haze.

"I have never seen anyone our age swallow down those in twos like you do," she mumbles, not looking up from her notes when her pen scratches against the paper, somehow grounding.

You know she's talking about the pikotas in your hand, the sour-sweet candies you've been popping absentmindedly.

Two at a time, always. A habit from forever ago, when Mom would slip them into your pocket before school.

You don't miss a beat, tossing another pair into your mouth. "Just say you have horrible taste."

She snorts, finally glancing over. Her dark hair falls in a neat curtain over one shoulder, and her eyes crinkle just enough to show she's not actually judging.

"I'm half Chinese. Taste is like, our whole point."

You roll your eyes, but there's a smirk tugging at your lips.

Sofia's got a way of sneaking past your usual walls, not with force but with this quiet, persistent ease.

You met her two weeks ago, first day of classes, when the semester started and you were still figuring out how to navigate the sleek, expensive campus. Because it's just the kind of place that screams privilege—private, international, one of the most expensive universities in Spain, all courses in English to cater to the global mix of students who can afford it.

You were sitting alone in the back of a lecture hall, trying to blend into the polished wood and glass, when she plopped down next to you. No hesitation, just a quick "Mind if I sit?" and a grin that didn't wait for your answer.

She clocked your last name on your notebook, matched it to the buzz about your dad being Real Madrid's new physio, and didn't make a big deal of it. Just nodded like it was trivia, not gossip.

You appreciated that more than you let on.

Since then, she's been a constant. Study sessions in the campus library, coffee runs at the overpriced café downstairs, late-night texts about assignments. She's Madrid-born, Chinese-Spanish, a sports psychology major with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue when she wants. She knows about your dad's job, knows you're fresh off the boat from Barcelona, and hasn't pushed for details.

That's why you don't mind her sitting here, filling the silence with her quiet banter while you chew through candy and memories.

Madrid's like that. Too much of everything—light, noise, space—and none of it fits right.

Not like Barcelona did, with its narrower streets and warmer shadows.

Still, at UEM, you're just another face in a sea of ambitious twenty-somethings, most of whom couldn't care less about football. Real Madrid, Barcelona—it's not their world. They're chasing MBAs, tech startups, international law degrees.

That, however, does not mean they don't know who Kim Taehyung is.

"Hey, speaking of taste—or lack thereof—have you seen the news this weekend? That whole scandal with Real Madrid's golden boy? Taehyung?"

Fuck Sofia for ruining your peace. You take all the good things you said about her back.

Of course she'd bring it up. Not because she's obsessed with football—most people here aren't—but because Taehyung's mess is everywhere. A superstar, a celebrity, the kind of hot that has women tripping over themselves and brands clawing for a piece of him.

His whole 'can't keep it in his pants' routine isn't even a flaw to most; it's charm, a marketable quirk that somehow makes him more desirable.

You've seen the headlines (who hasn't?), the grainy party pics, the lipstick smear on his neck that's got half of Madrid's press losing their minds.

Nike's 'concerned,' apparently.

You doubt he cares.

You shrug, keeping your face blank. "Yeah, I saw. Not exactly news when it's him."

Sofia raises a brow, catching the edge in your tone.

She doesn't know about your first run-in with him, the way he loomed at the training ground like he owned the air itself, expecting you to melt under his gaze; and you… Didn't.

Just stared back, flat and unimpressed, until he looked almost confused.

Which was honestly refreshing. He needs to get humbled.

But Sofia doesn't need that story, not yet. You're not sure why it even sticks in your head. It's not like he matters.

"Fair," she says, tapping her pen against her chin. "Still, it's wild. Guy's got the world at his feet, and he's out there acting like a frat boy on spring break. My psych prof would have a field day with his impulse control—or lack of it."

You huff a small laugh, more out of habit than amusement. "Probably. But it's not like anyone's surprised. That's just… him."

Her eyes narrow a fraction, like she's filing that comment away for later. You don't like how she does that, reads the unsaid stuff in your pauses. Makes you feel seen in ways you're not ready for.

You pop another pikota, let the sour bite ground you.

The lecture hall's still noisy, a guy two rows down arguing with his friend in rapid-fire German, a girl across the aisle snapping a selfie with her overpriced latte.

Normal. Disconnected from the football bubble you've been dragged into.

You wish you could stay in this pocket of mundane forever, where no one cares about football or your dad's job or the way some prick keeps jostling his dick around like it's a birthday party and his junk is a gift.

Your phone buzzes on the desk, screen lighting up with Jungkook's name.

A distraction. A lifeline.

A… video of a ferret stealing an entire sock drawer, dragging socks one by one to build a nest?

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜

You snort—actually snort—loud enough that Sofia looks up from her notebook with raised eyebrows.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚞𝚋𝚎'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚊𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝙷𝙰𝙷𝙰𝙷𝙰𝙷𝙰

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚝𝚠?

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚏𝚝

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝙻𝙼𝙰𝙾𝙾𝙾

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚋𝚌 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚒'𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚒 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 🤔

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜

You pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He's talking about you, obviously. Those stupid chocolate croissants from the Barcelona training facility café that you'd get genuinely upset about when they sold out.

It feels like a lifetime ago—back when your biggest worry was missing breakfast pastries, not navigating the social minefield of Madrid's elite football culture.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚜

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠'𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

You swallow thickly, staring at your screen for a couple seconds.

Because Jungkook's always been good at checking in without making it feel like an interrogation. He knows you well enough to understand that direct questions about your emotional state will get deflected, but asking about Madrid in general? That's safe territory.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚊𝚍'𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗?

You chew the inside of your cheek, watching Sofia highlight something in yellow marker.

How do you explain that Madrid feels like wearing clothes that don't fit? That every day feels like you're playing a role you never auditioned for? That you miss the easy warmth of Barcelona so much it physically hurts sometimes?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚘𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢?

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚒

Sofia waves at your phone like Jungkook can see her, which makes you roll your eyes.

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝙷𝙸 𝚂𝙾𝙵𝙸𝙰

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚒 𝙰𝙼 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚒 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚘𝚛

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚒'𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢 ��𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚒'𝚜 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚒

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢

Your heart does that stupid flutter thing it always does when Dani gets mentioned.

Even now, even with Carla, even with the distance and the time and the rational knowledge that your teenage crush was exactly that—teenage and over.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚍𝚊𝚍'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚒s

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚝𝚘𝚘

No, he didn't.

It's easier to pretend he didn't.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚘𝚠'𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚒 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚎'𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎?

You know exactly what you're asking.

He knows too, judging by the way the writing dots disappear two times before his next reply.

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚗𝚊𝚑

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗…?

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎? 👀

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖?

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚕𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒'𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝��𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚢

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 🙄

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚝

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒'𝚖 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚝

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞

The homesickness comes and crashes like a tidal wave.

It never quite goes away, the ache for the people who knew you before Madrid, before everything got complicated.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚠𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚍'𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚢

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚢

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚒𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚞𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚐𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚍𝚘

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚎 𝚓𝚔

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚠𝚜

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚒'𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚠𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢

Family.

Something warm settles in your chest.

Not the grief, not the homesickness, but something warmer.

A reminder that distance doesn't erase the connections that matter.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚝

𝐉𝐊💙❤️: ❤️

You set your phone down, a sigh escaping your lips.

Madrid's still foreign, and two weeks in, and you're still mourning. Not just Mom, though that's a wound that never scabs over. It's Barcelona too. The team, the culture, the way Camp Nou felt like a second home. The way Dani smiled without agenda, the way Jungkook teased like a brother.

You're in Madrid by accident, by necessity, and every white jersey you see feels like a betrayal.

But then there's Sofia, a small, stubborn reminder that not everything here has to hurt.

You chew another candy, slower this time. Let the sourness linger.

Promises might wither when left alone, but maybe, just maybe, some things grow in their place.

You're not ready to name it. Not ready to trust it.

But for now, sitting here with Sofia's quiet scribbling as your backdrop, it's enough to keep you from sinking.

Traffic in Madrid is apparently a personal vendetta against punctuality.

Your dad's running twenty minutes late because some jackass decided the M-40 was the perfect place for a fender bender, which means you're here. Setting up his station. Organizing equipment you could identify with your eyes closed because you've been watching him work since you could walk.

The physio room's too clean, too sterile, too Real Madrid.

The Barcelona facility had character—scuff marks on the walls, that one massage table with the slightly wobbly leg that everyone avoided, the persistent smell of Bengay that had seeped into the paint over fifteen years.

This place looks like it was designed by people who've never actually treated an injury.

You're sorting through resistance bands when Namjoon appears in the doorway, looking like he's lost a fight with his textbooks. Again.

"Your dad said you might be here," he says, adjusting his glasses. "Traffic's insane out there."

Right. Namjoon.

You met him exactly nine days ago when he wandered into the wrong lecture hall and ended up sitting through your Sports Medicine seminar. Turned out he was supposed to be in another class but was too polite to leave once he realized his mistake. Also turned out he's doing his practicum here, shadowing the medical staff twice a week.

Small world. Smaller when your dad's the new guy everyone wants to impress.

"He's stuck near Cuatro Caminos," you say, testing the tension on an elastic band. "Should be here soon."

"Need help with anything?"

You gesture at the perfectly organized equipment. "It's just busy work. Dad's paranoid about first impressions."

Namjoon nods like he understands the pressure of being the new guy. Which he probably does, considering he transferred here from Seoul and still looks slightly shell-shocked by Spanish bureaucracy.

"I'll be in the film room if you need anything," he says. "Marco's apparently having issues with his hip flexor and wants to review some footage."

Of course Marco has issues. Guy probably pulled something showing off for whatever Instagram model he's currently terrorizing.

Namjoon disappears, leaving you alone with the antiseptic smell and the growing certainty that helping your dad was a mistake.

You should be back at UEM, pretending to study while Sofia explains the philosophical implications of biochemical reactions.

Instead, you're here. Instead, you're in enemy territory. Organizing equipment for people who think Barcelona is a quaint regional hobby.

The door opens again.

"Thought I saw the physio's…" The voice trails off.

You know that voice. Heard it exactly one week ago, asking if you knew his name like that was supposed to matter.

You don't look up. Keep sorting through the massage oils like they require your complete attention.

"…Daughter," Taehyung finishes, giving the Coke Zero in his hand one last sip. "Interesting."

"Riveting," you say to the bottles of arnica gel. "There's a Nobel Prize in it somewhere."

He laughs. Actually laughs, like you've said something amusing instead of dismissive. Then, leaves the can on the furniture near the door.

You look up.

Grave mistake.

He's shirtless again because of course he is. Apparently shirts are optional in his world, a suggestion rather than a requirement. Fresh scratch marks across his back, angry red lines that tell a very obvious story about his weekend activities.

Classy.

"Something wrong with your scapula?" you ask, because that's why people come here—medical issues.

Not to parade around half-naked making small talk with staff daughters.

"How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess."

He moves closer, traces of whatever shampoo he uses lingering in the air. It reminds you of lemons… And something else that's probably pheromones or whatever evolutionary bullshit makes objectively terrible men attractive to people with functioning ovaries.

"Your dad around?"

"Running late." You cap the massage oil, set it back in its designated spot. "You can wait."

"Or you could take a look."

You blink. "I'm not a physiotherapist."

"You know what you're doing." He's already settling onto the massage table, lying face down like the decision's been made. "Study the same stuff as your dad, should be the same no?"

"It's really not."

"How?"

Because studying and actually doing the work with your own hands is essentially different.

Because med students are not doctors.

And physio students aren't either.

But explaining that to Kim Taehyung would mean talking to a toddler. And you have better things to do than waste breath on a manchild.

"Because."

"Compelling argument."

You could leave. Should leave. Let him wait for your dad like a normal person.

But maybe it's the way he's so entitled, and acts like so. Maybe it's the need to put him in his place—especially when you don't even know where yours is.

So, you wash your hands.

"Where's the pain?"

"Right side. Under the shoulder blade. Been bothering me since Saturday."

Saturday. When he was making headlines for all the wrong reasons. When those scratch marks were being carved into his back by whatever random woman decided he was worth the trouble.

You approach the table, professional, detached. Just like you've seen Dad do a hundred million times before.

You place your hands on his back, feeling for tension, knots, the specific kind of tightness that comes from overcompensation.

His skin is warm. Firm.

The scratch marks are raised under your fingers, evidence of Saturday night's adventures literally written across his shoulders.

"Here?" You press against the scapula, finding the knot immediately.

"Mmm." The sound is low, almost a purr. "Yeah, right there."

You ignore the way he says it. Focus on the muscle. The problem. The solution.

"Probably compensation," you say, working your thumbs in small circles. "You favor your right side when you tackle. Puts extra stress on the stabilizing muscles."

"Hmmm." Another noise, drawn out and definitely unnecessary. "That feels… really good."

Your hands pause. "Are you making those sounds on purpose?"

"What sounds?"

But he's grinning into the table. You can hear it in his voice.

"The porn sounds."

"I don't know what you mean."

You resume working, digging deeper into the knot. He needs to learn that his little games don't work on everyone.

"Ah," he breathes when you hit a particularly tight spot. "Oh, fuck, that's—"

"Can you not?"

"Not what?"

"Sound like you're getting jerked off."

He turns his head, looking at you over his shoulder with that smirk that probably gets him everything he wants.

"Is that what it sounds like?"

"It sounds like you're doing it on purpose."

"Maybe I am."

"Well, don't."

He simply glances at you, smirk plastered all over his face.

You work in silence for a few minutes, focusing on the actual muscle tension instead of the idiot attached to it. The knot's stubborn, layers of compensation built up over weeks of training and whatever he does in his spare time that leaves scratch marks.

"Your weekend activities aren't helping," you say, pressing harder than strictly necessary.

"Mmhm." Another deliberate sound. "My weekend activities are very… thorough."

"I mean the scratches. They're affecting your posture."

"Ah." Like you've just told him something profound instead of basic anatomy. "The scratches."

"Unless you're wrestling with cats, you might want to tell your… companions… to be more careful."

He laughs, and you feel it vibrate through his back under your hands.

"I'll pass along the feedback."

The muscle finally starts to give, tension releasing under sustained pressure. You move your hands to the surrounding area, checking for related knots, secondary compensation patterns.

"Oh," he breathes when you hit another tight spot. "Yeah, that's… mmm."

"Jesus Christ."

"What?"

"Do you have to narrate everything?"

"I'm appreciative." His voice is muffled by the table but you can still hear the amusement. "Sue me for having good manners."

"This isn't appreciation. This you auditioning for a porno."

"Can't it be both?"

You press your elbow into the knot. Hard.

He chokes on whatever smart-ass comment he was about to make.

"Better," you say flatly.

"Fuck, okay, point taken."

The thing about Taehyung is that he's predictable. He pushes until he finds resistance, then pushes harder to see what happens.

Classic spoiled rich boy behavior—no understanding of boundaries because no one's ever enforced any.

You've met his type before. Barcelona had them too, though they usually had the decency to pretend they weren't entitled assholes.

"Turn around."

He does, and now you're face to face with his chest. Which is. Well. It's a chest. Perfectly sculpted, golden skin, the kind of definition that suggests both excellent genetics and obsessive gym habits.

You've seen better.

(That's a lie, but you're committed to it.)

"The problem's in your back," you say, positioning your hands on his shoulders from the front. "You're compensating with your anterior muscles."

"My what now?"

"Front muscles. Keep up."

He grins at that, like you've just confirmed some theory he's been testing.

"So you're saying I've been working too hard?"

"I'm saying you've been working wrong."

Your hands find the tight spots along his clavicle, pressing into the muscle tissue with more force than strictly necessary.

Indeed, he makes another sound—something between a gasp and a moan—and you seriously consider just walking out.

"That's definitely gonna leave marks," he says, looking down at where your thumbs are digging into his skin.

"Good. Maybe you'll remember proper form."

"Oh, I'll remember this."

The way he says it makes your skin crawl.

Not because it's gross—which it is—but because it sounds like he genuinely means it.

Which is worse, somehow.

You finish the treatment in relative silence, mostly because you've perfected the art of selective hearing. He tries a few more times to get a reaction, but you're done giving attention to his stupidities.

"Ice it for twenty minutes when you get home," you say, stepping back and washing your hands again. "Anti-inflammatories if the pain persists."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

You're already moving toward the sink, washing your hands again because touching him feels like it requires immediate sanitization.

"Your dad teach you anything else?"

"How to bill insurance companies."

He laughs. Again. Like you're actually funny instead of just sarcastic.

"Useful skill."

You dry your hands, not letting him out of your periphery because it feels dangerous, somehow. He's sitting behind you on the table. Shirtless. Fixed.

Still there.

Can he leave?

"Was there something else?"

"Just curious."

"About what?"

"You."

You muster all the oxygen in the room one breath. Inhale deeply. Exhale slowly.

"There's nothing to be curious about."

"I doubt that."

You turn around. He's still sitting on the table, legs dangling like a kid at the doctor's office. Except kids don't usually look like they've been sculpted by people with advanced degrees in human anatomy.

"I'm the physio's daughter. That's it. That's the whole story."

"The physio's daughter who transfers from Barcelona and acts like Real Madrid personally wronged her family."

"I don't act like anything."

"You act like we killed your dog."

"You didn't kill my dog."

"But you hate us anyway."

The worst thing is—he doesn't ask it like a question, just states it like it's a fact. Like he knows more than you're letting on.

"I don't hate anyone."

"Liar."

He doesn't know you enough to accuse you like that, especially when it's imbued in such friendly tone, like he's commenting on your coffee order instead of calling out your entire emotional state.

"I don't know you well enough to hate you."

"But you know enough to disapprove."

"I disapprove of a lot of things."

"Such as?"

"People who think the world revolves around them."

He grins. "Guilty."

"People who can't take a hint."

"Also guilty."

"People who make everything about sex."

"Depends on your definition of everything."

You stare at him. He stares back, completely unashamed. Like this is normal conversation instead of him basically admitting to being exactly the kind of person you despise.

"You're unbelievable."

"Thanks."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I know."

He slides off, and it's always like this—moving like he's never doubted his welcome anywhere. Casually arrogant, lazily confident.

He's standing now, fingers tapping against the table in that absurd manner of people trying to look sexy.

Whether it works, you're not gonna comment.

But your dad's equipment suddenly feels very small, the space between you measured in inches instead of feet.

"I should go," he says, but doesn't move.

"Yes. You should."

He reaches for his shirt, hanging on a nearby chair. But instead of putting it on, he steps closer. Close enough that you can see the exact color of his eyes, the way his hair falls across his forehead, the small scar near his left eyebrow that probably has a story you don't want to know.

His hand moves, casual and way too quick, slipping into the pocket of your hoodie before you can react.

"Think I'll be borrowing one of these."

He pulls out a pikota, examining it like it's a rare artifact instead of candy you buy at any corner store.

"Those are mine."

"I know." He pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Sour. Interesting choice."

"Give it back."

"Can't. Already eaten."

"The rest of them."

"Finders keepers."

He's still standing too close, looking down at you with that smirk that suggests he knows exactly how inappropriate this is and doesn't care.

"Besides," he says, finally stepping back, "now I know what to call you."

"My name is—"

"Gominola."

Your brows knit in disbelief. There's just no way—no way—that Real Madrid's number two, Kim Taehyung, the arrogant prick standing in front of you, had the audacity to cut you off mid-name… only to nickname you Gominola.

"That's not my name."

"It is now."

He pulls on his shirt, covering the scratch marks and the evidence of whatever he does when he's not being a professional athlete.

"See you around, Gominola."

He's gone before you can respond—so you settle for cursing him inwardly, instead of outwardly.

But not quite gone.

Because the Coke Zero can is still sitting there on the counter like a monument to his casual disrespect for other people's spaces. Empty. Sweating condensation onto the pristine surface of your dad's equipment station.

Of course.

"Your trash," you call out, voice flat.

He pauses in the doorway, glances back at the can like he's seeing it for the first time.

"That's what you're here for, no?"

The audacity. The absolute fucking audacity.

"I'm not your maid."

"Hmmm… No?" He shrugs, casual as breathing. "Organizing equipment, cleaning up after people. Very maid-adjacent activities."

You stare at him. He stares back.

Neither of you moves.

Your eyebrow twitches—just once, a microscopic flicker of irritation that you can't quite suppress. It's involuntary. Reflexive. The kind of tell that gives away more than you'd like.

But he catches it. Of course he does.

"I like that," he says, leaning against the doorframe like he's settling in for a show. "That little frown you get. Right there." He gestures vaguely at your face. "Makes you look real cute when you're pissed off."

Cute.

He called you cute.

Like you're some pet that's learned a new trick. Like your irritation exists for his entertainment.

"Fascinating. I'll add that to the list of things I don't care about."

"Long list?"

"You'd be surprised."

He grins so bright, for a second you wonder if you just complimented his mother instead of basically telling him to fuck off.

"You know what? Keep the can." He straightens up, preparing to leave for real this time. "Consider it a memento."

"Of what?"

"Today. This conversation. The first time you touched me."

Your skin crawls inwards. Because the way he says it? It's not only sexual—though it definitely is—but it also sounds like he's already planning the sequel.

"It was a medical procedure."

"If you say so, Gomi."

And then he's actually gone, leaving you alone with his trash, his stupid nickname, and the lingering scent of lemons that somehow makes the entire room feel smaller.

You grab the can. Toss it in the bin with more force than strictly necessary.

The metal clangs against the sides, echoing in the silence.

Your eyebrow's still twitching.

Cute. Right.

You make a mental note to practice better facial control.

The last thing you need is Kim Taehyung thinking he has any effect on you whatsoever.

The thing about expensive universities is that they love attaching corporate logos to everything.

Like slapping a Nike swoosh on your degree somehow makes the crushing student debt more palatable. Or maybe it's the other way around—Nike gets to pretend they care about education while really just hunting for the next generation of athletes to exploit.

Either way, you're sitting in a lecture hall that's way too big listening to Professor García explain why this is such an 'incredible opportunity.'

"Nike has graciously agreed to sponsor a networking event for our Sports Science students," he says, gesturing at a PowerPoint slide that's probably older than some of the freshman. "This is exactly the kind of industry connection that makes UEM graduates so sought after."

You chew a pikota. Slowly. Let the sour-sweet dissolve on your tongue while Sofia scribbles notes like this is information worth remembering.

Corporate networking events.

Your favorite.

Right up there with root canals and Real Madrid training sessions.

"The event will be held next Friday at seven PM," he continues, clicking to the next slide. "Cocktail attire. Representatives from Nike's European division will be there, along with several prominent figures from Madrid's sports community."

Sofia elbows you. "This could be huge for internships."

"Thrilling," you say, not looking up from your notebook where you're not taking notes. Just doodling. Tiny ferrets stealing socks from faceless businessmen in suits.

"I'm serious. Nike sponsors half the football world. Imagine the connections."

The problem with Sofia is that she still believes in the system. Still thinks that networking and handshakes and business cards will somehow lead to meaningful careers instead of just more meetings with people who think they're important.

You've seen the system. Lived adjacent to it your entire life.

It's mostly bullshit wrapped in expensive suits.

"Plus," Sofia adds, leaning closer, "it's not like you have anything else going on Friday night."

What you hate about Sofia is that she is, often, not wrong.

And this time, she isn't either.

Your social calendar consists of studying, texting Jungkook, and watching your ferrets commit small crimes against your furniture.

Hardly the stuff of legends.

"Representatives from Madrid's sports community," you repeat, finally looking up. "That's vague."

"Probably Real Madrid players," says the guy sitting in front of you. Miguel something. Rich kid with a trust fund and opinions about everything. "My dad knows someone at Nike. Says they've got some big partnership thing happening."

Of course they do.

Because apparently there's no corner of your life that Real Madrid can't invade.

Not university. Not home. Not even corporate networking events that should theoretically have nothing to do with football.

"You okay?" Sofia asks, probably noticing the way your jaw's gone tight.

"Fine."

But you're not fine. You're calculating the odds that you can skip this thing without Professor García noticing. Or caring.

Except that would mean explaining to Sofia why you're suddenly allergic to networking events. Which would mean explaining about the move from Barcelona. Which would mean explaining things you don't have words for yet.

So instead you nod. Smile. Pretend like the thought of spending an evening making small talk with Real Madrid players doesn't make you want to crawl under your desk and stay there.

"Great," García says, apparently wrapping up his sales pitch. "I'll email you the details. Remember, this is optional but highly recommended. Nike doesn't offer these opportunities often."

The lecture moves on to muscle fiber types and you try to focus. Really. But your brain keeps drifting back to Friday night.

To cocktail attire and corporate representatives and the growing certainty that your life in Madrid is about to get exponentially more complicated.

Sofia's still taking notes. Dutiful, organized, probably already planning her outfit.

You draw another ferret. This one's stealing a Nike swoosh.

Seems appropriate.

Home feels different now that your dad’s working for Real Madrid.

Not worse, exactly; just… Heavier. Like the walls are holding their breath, waiting for something to go wrong.

You can hear him in the kitchen, moving around with the kind of agitation that means he’s either cooking something complicated or thinking through a problem. 

You have lived with him enough to know it’s usually both.

"¿Qué tal la universidad?" (How was university?) your dad calls out when he hears you drop your bag by the door.

"Educativa," (Educational) you say, which is technically true.

You did learn that Nike has tentacles that reach into every corner of Spanish academic life.

"Bien. Ven aquí un momento." (Good. Come here for a minute.)

The kitchen smells like garlic and something that might be steaks if your dad’s feeling ambitious. He’s standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan that’s definitely too big for two people.

Force of habit. 

He’s been cooking for crowds since your mom died, like muscle memory doesn’t understand that the crowd is gone.

"Tenemos que hablar sobre el viernes," (We need to talk about Friday) he says without looking up.

Friday. The Nike thing. Of course he knows about it. Probably got an email from someone at the university, or maybe Nike reached out directly. Corporate synergy and all that.

"Ya sé lo del evento de networking," (I already know about the networking event) you say, leaning against the counter. "El profesor García hizo el gran anuncio hoy." (Professor Garcia made the big announcement today.)

"No es eso—" (That's not—) He stops stirring what you now recognize as the veggies side dish. Looks at you. "¿Qué evento de networking?" (What networking event?)

Oh.

Oh, this is worse.

"Nike está patrocinando algo en la UEM. Viernes por la noche. Estudiantes de ciencias del deporte." (Nike's sponsoring something at UEM. Friday night. Sports science students.) You watch his expression change from confusion to something that looks suspiciously like resignation. "¿Por qué?" (Why?)

He sets down the wooden spoon. Runs a hand through his hair in that way that means he’s about to deliver news you won’t like.

"El Real Madrid tiene una cena programada con representantes de Nike. Viernes por la noche a las nueve, pero tenemos que estar allí a las siete y media." (Real Madrid has a dinner scheduled with Nike representatives. Friday night at nine, but we have to be there by seven-thirty.) He pauses. "Las familias del personal están invitadas." (Staff families are invited.)

The pieces click together immediately.

You want to throw something.

"Es el mismo evento." (It's the same event.)

"Eso parece." (Appears so.)

"Así que las 'figuras prominentes de la comunidad deportiva madrileña' son—" (So the 'prominent figures from Madrid's sports community' are—)

"El equipo. Sí." (The team. Yes.)

You stare at him. He stares back, apologetic but not apologetic enough to fix this.

"No puedo ir," (I can't go) you say finally.

"Sí, puedes." (Yes, you can.)

"No iré." (I won't go.)

"Sí, irás." (Yes, you will.)

It’s not a conversation. It’s a statement of fact, delivered in the tone he uses when discussing treatment plans with stubborn patients. 

Final and absolutely non-negotiable.

"Papá—" (Dad—)

"Esto es importante." (This is important.) He turns back to the stove, but his shoulders are tense. "Mi puesto aquí sigue siendo nuevo. Aún me están evaluando. Estos eventos importan." (My position here is still new. Still being evaluated. These events matter.)

Right. 

Because everything comes back to that—his job, his reputation, the delicate political balance of being the former Barcelona physiotherapist who now works for Real Madrid.

You’re not just his daughter at these things. You’re evidence. Proof that the transition is working, that the family has successfully integrated into Madrid’s football culture.

No pressure.

"¿Cuántos jugadores?" (How many players?) you ask, because you need to know the scope of the disaster you're walking into.

"La mayoría del primer equipo. Entrenadores. Algunos miembros de la junta." (Most of the first team. Coaches. Some board members.) He glances at you. "Es un gran evento para Nike. Anuncio de nueva asociación." (It's a big deal for Nike. New partnership announcement.)

"¿Y tengo que estar allí porque...?" (And I have to be there because...?)

"Porque eres parte de esta familia. Y esta familia se apoya mutuamente." (Because you're part of this family. And this family supports each other.)

The guilt trip is subtle but effective. Because he’s right. You are part of this family. 

The only family either of you has left.

And if supporting him means suffering through dinner with Real Madrid players while maintaining the fiction that you’re happy to be there, then that’s what you’ll do.

Even if it kills you.

Even if one of those players is as arrogant as Kim Taehyung.

"Vale," (Fine) you say. "Pero no voy a fingir ser fan del Madrid." (But I'm not pretending to be a Madrid fan.)

"No te estoy pidiendo que lo hagas." (I'm not asking you to.)

"Y no voy a hacer conversación sobre lo genial que es el equipo." (And I'm not making small talk about how great the team is.)

"Entendido." (Understood.)

"Y si alguien pregunta sobre el Barcelona—" (And if anyone asks about Barcelona—)

"Les dices la verdad. Que lo echas de menos pero te estás adaptando." (You tell them the truth. That you miss it but you're adjusting.) He turns off the heat, faces you completely. "Esto no tiene que ser una tortura. Solo... sé tú misma. Sé educada." (This doesn't have to be torture. Just... be yourself. Be polite.)

Be yourself. Right.

Because your ‘self’ is exactly who you want to be around a table full of people who represent everything you’ve been raised to view with suspicion.

Everyone keeps saying that like it’s simple advice instead of the most complicated thing in the world.

Your ‘self’ is a Barcelona girl in Madrid territory. A physio’s daughter who knows too much about football politics and not enough about corporate networking. Someone who misses her mom and protects her dad and has strong opinions about ferret care.

None of which feels particularly useful for surviving dinner with Real Madrid.

But maybe that’s the point.

Maybe being yourself is exactly what will get you through this.

Even if ‘yourself’ includes the part that finds Kim Taehyung insufferable.

Especially that part.

"¿Qué me pongo?" (What should I wear?) you ask, because if you're doing this, you might as well do it right.

"Algo bonito, elegante." (Something nice, elegant.) He pauses. "Tu madre tenía un vestido negro. Aún está en el armario de arriba." (Your mother had a black dress. Still in the closet upstairs.)

The mention of Mom never stops the dull ache from forming and stirring in your chest. 

Like lillies in full bloom. 

"Ya me las arreglaré," (I'll figure something out) you say, because the thought of wearing her clothes to a Real Madrid event feels like blasphemy.

He nods. Goes back to stirring.

You grab a pikota from the jar on the counter, unwrap it, let the sourness ground you while you process the fact that your Friday night just became infinitely more complicated.

"¿Al menos me dirás quién va a estar allí?" (Will you at least tell me who's going to be there?) you ask. "Para poder prepararme para el sabor específico de pesadilla que va a ser esto." (So I can prepare for the specific flavor of nightmare this is going to be?)

He rattles off names. Players you recognize from sports coverage and social media. Coaches you’ve seen on the sidelines. Board members you don’t know and don’t care about.

“Taehyung?” you ask when he doesn’t mention him specifically.

"Probablemente. ¿Por qué?" (Probably. Why?)

Because he called you Gominola and stole your candy and made sounds during a medical procedure like he was auditioning for porn. 

Because he thinks you’re cute when you’re angry and left his trash for you to clean up.

Because something about him makes you want to claw his eyes off and you’re not sure you’ll hold yourself back if you have to be in his space for three hours. 

"Solo preguntaba," (Just wondering) you say.

Your dad gives you a glance that’s accompanied by a small frown, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead…

"Estará bien," (It'll be fine) he says, turning back to the meal. "Unas pocas horas. Buena comida. Luego se acabó." (A few hours. Good food. Then it's over.)

Right. A few hours.

In a room full of Real Madrid players.

Including Taehyung.

Who will probably find new and creative ways to be insufferable while you try to maintain your dignity and support your father’s career.

What could go wrong?

You eat another pikota. This one tastes like impending doom.

"Voy a estudiar," (I'm going to study) you announce, pushing off from the counter.

"La cena está en una hora." (Dinner's in an hour.)

"Bajaré." (I'll be down.)

You head upstairs, leaving him with his meat and his optimism.

Up there, the room feels smaller than usual, like the walls are closing in with the weight of Friday night’s obligations.

Just as if your room represents exactly how you’re feeling.

Hari and Nube are there, watching you from their cage, probably sensing your mood through whatever weird telepathic connection you’ve developed with them.

“Esto es una mierda,” (This is shit) you tell them.

Nube chitches in what sounds like agreement. Hari just steals another sock.

Smart ferret. Some problems are best solved through theft and chaos.

You flop onto your bed, staring at the ceiling while your brain runs through worst-case scenarios.

Taehyung will be there. Obviously. Because the universe has a sense of humor and no mercy.

He’ll probably make more inappropriate comments about your appearance or your attitude or your apparent cuteness when angry. He’ll probably find new ways to invade your personal space while maintaining plausible deniability. He’ll definitely do that thing where he acts like everything is a game and everything is fair and square. 

Everything is his prize if he so much wishes for it to be.

And you’ll have to sit there. Smile. Be polite.

Support your father’s career while maintaining your sanity.

Should be simple.

Should be.

Your phone buzzes. Not Jungkook this time—something different. A WhatsApp notification for a group you don’t recognize.

𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 - 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐝

47 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝．

You stare at the screen. Scroll through the participant list. Every name you recognize from training sessions, plus dozens you don’t. Players, coaches, staff, board members. The entire Real Madrid ecosystem crammed into one group chat.

And somewhere in that list—Kim Taehyung.

Of course.

"¡Papá!" (Dad!) you call downstairs.

"¿Sí?" (Yeah?)

"¿Por qué estoy en un grupo de WhatsApp con toda la organización del Real Madrid?" (Why am I in a WhatsApp group with the entire Real Madrid organization?)

Pause. The sound of a wooden spoon being set down.

"Cena de Nike el viernes," (Nike dinner Friday) he says, like this explains everything. "Todos los asistentes necesitan estar al tanto. Vienes, así que estás en el chat." (Everyone attending needs to be in the loop. You're coming, so you're in the chat.)

Right. Because your life wasn’t complicated enough.

You scroll through the chat history. Pure chaos. Forty-seven people trying to coordinate one dinner, and it’s exactly as much of a disaster as you’d expect.

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝟽:𝟹𝟶

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙽𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚛…?

𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛

𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚋𝚛𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙵𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 ��𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚋 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢.

𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚊?

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚗𝚘

𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚜  

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙸𝚜𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚘?

The typing dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗

𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚘 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚘?

Your stomach drops. There it is. The question that’s not really a question.

𝐃𝐚𝐝: 👍

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘?

You stare at that message. Blink in silence like that’ll somehow transcribe your response into existence.

God, why are they all annoying? 

The typing dots appear under your name. Everyone can see them. Forty-six people watching you not respond.

You delete whatever you were going to type.

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢

𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚜𝚘 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎?

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝚈𝙴𝚂 𝙻𝙴𝙾

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚊’𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 💀💀💀

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙴𝙽𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷

The chat goes quiet for exactly thirty seconds. Then:

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎?

𝐃𝐚𝐝: 𝟷𝟿:𝟷𝟻.

Your dad appears in the doorway, probably wondering why you’ve gone quiet.

"¿Todo bien?" (Everything okay?)

"Solo leyendo el chat grupal." (Just reading the group chat.) You hold up your phone. "Es como ver un documental sobre machos alfa en su hábitat natural." (It's like watching a nature documentary about alpha males in their natural habitat.)

"¿Tan malo?" (That bad?)

"Marco acaba de decirle a Leo que su novia va a dejarlo durante los aperitivos." (Marco just told Leo his girlfriend's going to dump him during appetizers.)

He winces. "Marco es... directo." (Marco's... direct.)

"Marco es un sociópata." (Marco's a sociopath.)

"Es joven." (He's young.)

Young. Everyone keeps using that word like it explains away basic human decency.

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙾𝚔 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

The responses flood in. Names, plus-ones, family members. A parade of people who belong in this world, who wear cocktail attire to corporate dinners without feeling like they’re playing dress-up.

You watch the numbers climb. Forty-seven becomes sixty-two becomes seventy-eight.

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚃𝚊𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎?

𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚏𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚘

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢

𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙺𝙴𝙴𝙿 𝙸𝚃 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙵𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻

𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕

The lie is so obvious it’s almost insulting. You’ve seen the headlines, the Instagram stories, the lipstick marks that make sports blogs. 

Taehyung’s focus is definitely not on football.

𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 - 𝙻𝚎𝚘 + 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚊

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝙵 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙻𝚎𝚘

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚘 𝙸’𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: ✅ - 𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒 + 𝙴𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚊

𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝙳𝚒𝚎𝚐𝚘 + 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊

The list grows. Couples, families, people who fit together like puzzle pieces in this Madrid ecosystem.

𝐃𝐚𝐝: 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 - 𝙹𝚎𝚜𝚞́𝚜 + 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛.

There it is. Your attendance, reduced to a line item in someone else’s confirmation.

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 ❤️

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟽𝟾 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚋 

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕

𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚜’ 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚋𝚘𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚘 👎

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖

𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚘’𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠  

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚒 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐞𝐥: 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚍

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚛. 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙱𝙾𝚃𝙷 𝙾𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙿

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝚅𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝟷𝟾:𝟺𝟻

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐢́𝐚𝐬: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙻𝚈

𝐋𝐮𝐢𝐬: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚜

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚊𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚊𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙰𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 not

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘?

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚝𝚜

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙾

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞: 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 𝐕: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜

𝐋𝐮𝐢𝐬: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚑

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚑

𝐋𝐮𝐢𝐬: 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙽𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚝

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝐃𝐚𝐝: 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛.

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚛?

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙻𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚛

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝚃𝚠𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚖

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚋

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐’𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚋 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑

𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝

𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚞𝚗

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐞𝐥: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞́: 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚́𝐬: 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚏𝚒𝚝 

𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚́𝐬: 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐚́𝐬: 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞: 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 

𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚢?

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚋 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐏𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐨: 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚘𝚘?

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 ���� 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚗𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎

𝐋𝐮𝐢𝐬: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐢́𝐚𝐬: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐋𝐮𝐢𝐬: 𝙸 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎

𝐋𝐮𝐢𝐬: 𝚜𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝚂𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕

𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚍𝚘 𝙸 𝚝𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚋

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚝𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢 

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚔𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚊

𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚔𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚊

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐???

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚔𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚊

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚔𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙾𝚔 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚙

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝟷𝟾:𝟺𝟻 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚋 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚝

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚢

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙸’𝚖 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚗

𝐃𝐚𝐝: 𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢.

"Cena en diez minutos," (Dinner in ten) your dad says.

"Sí. Ya voy." (Yeah. Coming.)

You’re about to pocket your phone when one more message appears.

𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝

Three words. Could mean anything. Could mean nothing.

But they feel like both a warning and an oath.

You’re not sure which would be worse.

The pikotas in your pocket suddenly feel insufficient armor for whatever Friday night’s going to bring.

Seventy-eight people. One dinner. Two many Real Madrid pricks whose entire personality orbits around their egos.

What could go wrong?

Your dad calls up the stairs. Dinner’s ready.

You pocket your phone, take one last look at the ferrets.

“Deseadme suerte,” (Wish me luck) you tell them.

Nube chitches. Hari steals another sock.

Some things never change—even when everything else does.

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