#I'm sorry I'm not going to shut about them I just love them too much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

runariya · 1 day ago

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Crash Course in Love • 3

pairing: snowboard instructor!Jungkook x ex-gf!reader (feat. platonic OT6) genre: rom-com, Exes 2 Lovers, slow-burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: strong language, slow burn, angst, tension, bad communication skills, heartbreak, hangover, doubts, emotional rollercoaster, fight against nature, being stranded, crying, verbal fighting and screaming, explicit sexual content, bit of dry humping, fingering, scissoring, unprotected sex, breast play, hickeys, scratch marks, love bites, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 15.3k

a/n: i'm absolutely knackered now, completely worn out. BUT it was sooooo worth it lol hope y'all enjoy it to the fullest bc next update probably won't be until the new year...sooooo...have funnnn!

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

01 • 02 • masterlist • 04

Day 4

“Fuck.”

You think you’ve woken up in hell—it must be—because, oh god, you feel like death. Your eyes are crusted shut, and you can’t feel your legs. But as you rub the sleep out of your eyes and prop yourself up on your elbows, you realise it’s just Namjoon lying across them, snoring away.

You try to take in the room, piecing together the hazy puzzle of last night. The party, the song, you running off only to drown yourself with Yoongi and Namjoon in alcohol, throwing your own little after-party. You remember crying, remember singing your heart out to sad love songs blaring through Dionysus. What a fucking mess you’ve become…

But after all that chaos, there’s only blackness. And seeing Yoongi and Namjoon still here with you in the suite, all of you fully dressed and reeking of alcohol, tells you enough. And as you groan, not just from the bottomless pit of stupidity, but from the pounding in your head, you let yourself collapse back onto your pillow.

You fight back another wave of tears, wishing the last 24 hours could just be erased, wishing you were back at home. You fumble blindly for your phone, finding it on the nightstand nearby.

2:56 p.m.

Just brilliant. Though, at least you’re spared from spending the whole day on the slopes. Not that you’d be able to walk straight with how you’re feeling, but a win’s a win.

You need to get up, though, so you start stirring both men awake. Yoongi’s not blocking you, but if you’re up, he has to be as well. Much to your surprise, both of them wake without protest, getting themselves into a sitting position on the bed, looking like zombies straight out of The Walking Dead. You reckon you look about the same.

“Sorry,” Namjoon mumbles as you begin massaging some blood back into your legs, which feel like they’re fighting for dear life.

“S’alright,” you croak out, unable to manage much more.

“Painkillers.” Yoongi just sits there, staring at his blanket, the rise and fall of his chest the only proof he’s still alive, though barely.

You and Namjoon both nod, but no one actually moves until, eventually, Namjoon rises—slowly, hands leaving the mattress only at the last second before he somehow straightens up and makes his way to the door, though it’s anything but a straight line.

You’re the second to get up, staggering into the bathroom to wash off everything clinging to you. You’re not sure if it’s just dried sweat or a bit of alcohol still on your skin, though you have a vague memory of Tae pouring something over your back. Either way, you’re in desperate need of a full shower to feel human again.

The only upside to this hangover is that your mind has finally shut up. Every bit of energy is focused on basic bodily functions, like breathing without throwing up and blinking your bloodshot eyes now and then. You’re not even fazed when Yoongi stumbles in, taking a piss that seems to go on forever; he clearly couldn’t give a fuck, and neither can you.

When you’ve finished rinsing your hair and are wrapped in a towel that’s too soft to absorb any actual moisture, you quietly switch places with Yoongi, both of you unintentionally making a point not to make eye contact.

You’re not entirely sure why you’re still here—not just in this town but on this entire trip. There’s no real drive left in you to give Jungkook closure, no fight in you at all, and definitely no desire to ever see him again.

So, you decide to get the hell out of here. Not right this second, no, your blood alcohol is likely still sky-high and will take a nosedive soon, taking you down with it, but tomorrow, you’re leaving. It’s the healthiest thing you could do, because frankly, you lost Jungkook years ago, and that realisation sobers you up more than anything else could.

It doesn’t stir the same emotions it once did as you pull Jungkook’s old hoodie out of your luggage—or maybe you’re just too tired to care—as you tug the oversized black fabric over your head, the only comfortable thing you’d brought on this trip. Some leggings on, with your phone stuffed into the front pocket of the hoodie, you make your way to the main area, letting your eyes roam to maybe spot your missing phone case.

Jungkook’s already lounging in a single armchair, poking absently at the fire with an iron stick, his gaze tracking you as you move around the room. But you ignore him. It’s not like you’re being petty this time, and he can probably tell from your posture that you’re just not in the mood to interact at all.

You’re especially glad he doesn’t mention your—or rather, his—hoodie, and when you give up the search, realising the case isn’t lying around here either, you shuffle over to the sofa, collapsing onto it and immediately pulling out your phone. Scrolling through YouTube, you pull the hoodie’s hood down a bit further to block out Jungkook entirely, settling on a spa video promising a very satisfying blackhead extraction.

If your life’s this miserable, you’re at least going to give yourself this kind of satisfaction, even if it’s short-lived. And anyway, there are millions of similar videos waiting for you and your lonely ass.

Namjoon emerges midway through your video, nudging your legs to make space for him. You shift, but only to let your legs settle in his lap as soon as he sits down.

“Here,” he offers, handing you two painkillers, which you take like they’re sweets, chewing them up so they might kick in faster. He pulls a disgusted face, but it quickly fades—probably can’t be bothered to waste any energy as well.

“Jimin brought food,” Jungkook breaks the silence, still poking at the fire. “Should I get you some?”

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or Namjoon, but you answer anyway. “I’m good, thanks.”

Maybe he expected a different answer, as his stick pauses for a moment, but you couldn’t care less. The chance to talk things out has passed, along with your will. It’s on him now. You’ve seen and heard enough.

“Why did you leave the party so early?” he tries again.

“It was because of me, I just—”

You cut Namjoon off; he really doesn’t need to do this for you. “Stop lying, I wanted to leave, and Namjoon and Yoongi didn’t want me to be alone.”

“Why?”

You pause your video, turning to meet Jungkook’s eyes. He’s bouncing his leg and chewing on his lip ring again, but it’s not your problem if he’s anxious or whatever. “None of your business.”

Namjoon gives your knee a slight squeeze, and while Jungkook turns his attention back to the flames like you’re the one who’s hurt him, he can go fuck himself. You’re not dealing with him right now. Not when he’s got Hara pregnant and sings love songs for her.

Yoongi enters at that moment, settling into the armchair beside Jungkook and just managing to catch the two painkillers Namjoon tosses his way.

Silence returns, and you restart your video, losing yourself in the meditative extractions.

“Can I get a haaaawyeah?!” Tae bursts into the hostel, bringing Hope and Hara with him. Three of the four present groan in agony at the sudden noise, and you’re one of them. Still, you shift to sit up, making room for them to join.

You’re not sure why Hara chooses to sit next to you, quietly handing over a takeaway box of food with that warm, familiar smile of hers—you know it’s got to be from Jin’s.

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble, the bite you had a few minutes ago already feeling like it never had been there to begin with.

“Please, eat something. Your body needs it.”

She’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to even lift the lid, staring blankly at it as if it’ll somehow reveal yet another surprise you’re not ready for. You know it’s not Hara’s fault you’re feeling like this, or that Jungkook chose her, but right now, all you can feel is bitterness, and her kindness only multiplies it.

Almost unconsciously, you glance up and find Jungkook’s eyes fixed on you, his leg still bouncing lightly, clearly tuned out from the lively conversation between the other guys.

You’ve kept this empty space in your heart reserved for him for so long, never realising he’d never fill it again. You just don’t have the energy for this anymore, the will to keep playing his game where he pulls you back into his world only to remind you you’re no longer really part of it. Not properly.

You wonder if Jungkook even realises what he’s doing, if he has any clue about how his actions come across. Or maybe he’s just as stuck as you, caught up in his patterns and too blind to see beyond them. The care and worry in his eyes when he looks at you, when he notices you making poor choices for your health—maybe, you reason, it’s just because he doesn’t know how to be any other way and nothing more.

But that’s the thing about Jungkook: he genuinely cares. And that’s why he’s going to be the best dad on this earth—just not to your children.

“I’m really not hungry.” You think you see Jungkook’s jaw tick just a bit, but he again chooses to say nothing, his gaze, though, never wavering from you.

“I didn’t mean to, but damn, that woman was something else,” Tae bursts, sprawled on the floor in front of you, accidentally nudging your knee as he laughs with the others.

“Who?” you ask, trying to tune into the conversation just to get away from the other.

“That woman who was sitting by the bar all night. Tae pulled her,” Hope bursts out laughing, especially at your disgusted, shocked face.

“Was she any good?” Namjoon inquires, like it’s the most normal thing to ask about a one-night stand.

“What can I say? She taught me things I didn’t even know existed.”

Yep, that info’s enough to make you gag for real, and judging by Yoongi and Jungkook’s expressions, they’re feeling the same.

“Want some?” you offer Yoongi the box, hoping to steer the conversation away from…whatever this is. But he just shakes his head, clearly not ready to risk upsetting his stomach as well.

He’s pale as it is, and you can see the colour drain from his already bloodshot eyes at the sight of food. Poor man.

“Jungkook, you hungry?” Hara offers softly, and you can’t help but glance at him again.

His bouncing leg stills the instant she speaks to him. And even though it’s true—Jungkook can eat like a bottomless pit, never saying no to food—you don’t really want to interact with him right now. But, some things haven’t changed at all it seems, like you not being able to say no when it comes to him.

Jungkook looks at you with those big, hopeful eyes, as if to say just eat it yourself—he’d never, like all those years ago, take food from you when it’s clear you’re barely eating yourself. But you just can’t, and with that, you get up, lean over the small coffee table separating you both, and offer him the box with both hands, a small, shaky smile on your face.

Jungkook stands up too, reaching for the food between you. You think he’ll just take it, but his hands cover yours, brushing over them until they settle on the container, and then, finally, he takes it. It catches you off guard, not just because he touched you first and not the box, but because it was absolutely deliberate.

Why he did it, you don’t know, but all you can think about is getting away fast before all your bottled-up emotions explode in your face.

“Can…uh…can someone drive me to the nearest petrol station?” you ask, standing there rooted to the spot, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment as everyone looks up at you.

Jungkook’s half a mind to put the box back on the table and get up again, but Hope springs up from his spot beside Taehyung, fishing his keys from his pocket. “I’ve got you.”

“Thanks, I’ll just get ready.” You cast him a quick, grateful look and head to your room, eyes down.

Hope just saved you there, because if Jungkook had offered to drive, you don’t know what you’d have done. Sure, you want him to be happy—you’re not some heartless person who wishes bad things on people, especially those who are…were…close to you.

But what about your happiness? Don’t you deserve to find peace too? To protect yourself? So yes, you’ll take every bit of help you can get, even if it’s just a lift to the petrol station.

You didn’t mean to startle so violently when you turned to close the suite door, but honestly, you hadn’t even heard Hara following you, moving soundlessly like a ghost.

“C…can I help you?” You’re gripping the door until your knuckles turn white under your sweater paws, the door not even fully open anymore.

“Can I come in?”

It’s like something out of a nightmare, knowing you can’t turn her away just because Hara’s never done anything to hurt you. You have to remind yourself again and again that she’s not the villain here, chanting it silently in your head, trying to drown out the hurt that won’t go away whenever you look at her.

So, you nod, opening the door a bit wider, then turn around to let her in and busy yourself with “looking” for your phone case, just so you don’t have to face her.

“Are you okay?”

Her words break through the sound of the bedding as you give it a shake, hoping your case might fall out, but of course it doesn’t. Just like the right answer isn’t coming to you now, not to her question.

Maybe you’re okay, as okay as you can be. Maybe you’re not. Either way, you’re definitely not making her your therapist—not when she’s involved in all this stupid mess.

“Yeah, sure. Are you?”

“Yeah, the sickness finally went away. I just hope I start to show soon—it’s getting weird at this point.”

You move around the room, checking every corner, stopping only when you spot an edge of your phone case outside on the porch, half-buried in the snow beside the jacuzzi.

“How far along are you?”

“Seventeenth week…we’ll find out the gender soon.” There’s a subtle cheer in her voice that makes your heart soften for a moment.

It must be incredible to be expecting, especially to finally know the baby’s gender and go a bit mad with shopping. You’re sure you’d be the same, and Hara likely will be, too.

You glance her way, offering a small, warm smile before opening the door to the porch. “Got a feeling what it’ll be?”

Hara comes closer to the door as you step outside, staying in the warmth while leaning against the frame. “Yes? No? Maybe?” She laughs. “Some days I swear it’s a boy, and then others I’m convinced it’s a girl. Tomorrow’s the appointment, so…I hope mini-me reveals its gender and isn’t shy.”

You giggle, fishing the icy case out of the snow and brushing off the clinging flakes. As you come back inside, Hara moves aside, settling herself on the edge of the bed while you grab a discarded shirt of Yoongi’s to dry the case off.

“Hey…uh…I don’t quite know how to start this, but…I know you’re not doing alright.”

The glance you throw her way is wary rather than hostile, but still, you don’t want a pep talk from her.

“Please, just talk to each other.”

Biting your lip, you really don’t want to say anything. Yes, you probably should talk to Jungkook, but then again, maybe you shouldn’t. He’s had countless chances to say something, to open up if he had any thoughts at all—and he’s used none of them. Not even when you broke up with him. He stayed silent, like he is now.

Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk, not really, and you’re done waiting and being the one to start things.

“There’s nothing left to talk about. But I appreciate your concern.”

Hara just nods, staring down at the floor, rubbing her hands together between her knees while you pull on your coat and tuck your phone safely into its case.

“It’s a nice case. Did you paint it yourself?”

You glance at your phone, rubbing your thumb over the faded paint that was once so bright. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it after the breakup, even though it reminds you of everything good about your time with Jungkook. Maybe there’s some masochistic streak in you that wants to punish yourself for everything you did and didn’t do. Maybe it’s time to let go of all the memories that keep pulling you back to a time that’s long gone.

“No.” You sigh, tucking it away in your coat pocket with your purse and heading to the door. You pause with your hand on the handle, checking to see if Hara’s following, which she is. She’s right behind you again, and this time, you just let out a startled scream internally, hoping you don’t flinch too visibly.

Opening the door, you let her pass first, just to keep her in your sight this time, but as soon as you’re near the entrance to the main area, she stops, raising a hand. You give her a puzzled look, but she only points to one of her ears, so you lean in, trying to make out what’s being said.

First, you catch the voices of Taehyung and Namjoon, Taehyung’s voice too loud and distinct not to notice. But when you listen a bit harder, you pick up Hope and Jungkook having a different conversation, probably a little further from the others.

“I know! I know you’re a good driver. Just…”

“Just? C’mon, what’s going on with you, C?”

“Just… take care of her, okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re acting like I’m some boy who’s just got his licence and can’t be trusted—”

The rustling of your coat drowns out the rest of their conversation as you step into the room, deciding not to eavesdrop any longer. You glance around briefly, and of course, Jungkook’s eyes find yours again, but you quickly turn towards Yoongi, resting your hands on his shoulders from behind where he’s still slouched on the one-seater. He wraps his hand around your wrist, his thumb gently brushing over your pulse.

“Why was my case out in the snow?” you murmur into his ear, which earns a lazy laugh from him. He peeks over his shoulder at you, his voice still raspy from his hangover as he murmurs back.

“You thought you could yeet it away and be done with it.”

Your cheeks go warm again; drunk-you is really ridiculous in every possible way. You’re just grateful it was only Namjoon and Yoongi who saw your breakdown, and no one else.

“Right.”

“Stay safe, yeah?”

He gives your wrist a gentle squeeze, and when your eyes meet again, even though his are still glassy from last night’s antics, there’s that quiet care in them only real family can have.

“I will. Thanks for being there for me, Yoongs.” You press a quick kiss to his head and give him a brief squeeze around his shoulders, only for him to dramatically fake his own demise.

Straightening up, you meet Hope’s eyes, give him a quick nod, and head towards the door. Jungkook moves with the two of you, holding the door open without taking his eyes off you. His gaze is so intense that you can’t keep eye contact, mumbling a quiet, hurried “thanks” and “bye” as you follow Hope to his car.

You wouldn’t have thought Hope would drive a brand-new car, especially a vibrant red one. You wonder if an equipment rental shop really makes that much of a profit or if everyone in this town is just batshit rich. At least you’ll be safe—much safer than you’d be with Tony.

“So, how long’s the drive?” you ask, taking in the car’s interior while buckling up in the passenger seat. You notice the soft leather under your bum and the chrome trim around the touchscreen on the console.

“Maybe twenty or thirty minutes, depends on whether the roads are clear or still covered in snow.”

You hum in acknowledgment, tucking your hands under your thighs—not only because they’re still cold from the short walk outside, but also to avoid the urge to touch anything and risk breaking something you’d never be able to replace.

The car’s rolling down the steep hill you came from a few days ago in no time, and Hope’s both hands are steady on the wheel, which helps you relax in your seat. He’s definitely a good driver, like Yoongi, Jungkook, or your dad—the kind you can actually relax around without fearing for your life.

“So…would you be a kind soul and tell me what you’re all talking about in that group chat, especially about me?”

Of course you had to ask—why wouldn’t you, now that you’re alone with someone who’s clearly in on the whole scheme?

“Sure, why wouldn’t I?”

“Dunno…maybe because of Namjoon.”

“Oh, I’m not scared of him.” Hope laughs heartily, but his eyes don’t stray from the dark, snow-covered road ahead.

“Sooo…?”

“So, you should just talk to C. That’s what we’re all talking about.”

“Wow, wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“So why’re you asking if that’s not the answer you wanted?”

You fall silent.

“Listen. You and C are both hurting. And the only way forward is for you both to learn how to communicate properly, aka talk to each other.”

“There’s really nothing left to talk about.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s clearly moved on, no?”

Like, duh.

“Has he now?”

Duh?…

“Yeah, with Hara…and the baby on its way.”

Were you wrong all this time? It can’t be.

“Oh, boy…”

“Don’t ‘oh boy’ me.”

“Why do you think he’s with Hara?”

You’re trying not to show how hard it is to think clearly in your state, but the time it takes you to respond says it all. “It’s obvious.”

“Is it? Because it sounds like you’re seeing things how you want to, not how they actually are.”

“Rude.”

“It’s true.”

“You’re really forward for someone I barely know.”

“We’re not strangers, __.” Hope side-eyes you pointedly, making you scoot a tiny bit deeper into your seat.

“Basically, we are.”

“No, we’re not friends yet, but we’re not strangers either.”

So what does this mean for you and Jungkook? He’s not exactly a friend anymore, but he’s not a stranger either. Or…maybe he is. God, your brain feels like it’s about to explode any minute now.

“People change, Hope. Jungkook’s changed.”

Hope lets a short silence settle between you, his fingers tapping softly against the leather wheel as if he’s thinking about what to say next. Only now do you realise there’s no sound from the engine, and you clock that he’s driving an electric car—even though he lives in the mountains, in the cold.

“Have you?”

You’re half-tempted to just say yes, but is that really true? You’re not sure. Maybe you’ve matured a bit, but not enough to feel like a different person. What you do know for sure is that any growth you might have had stopped the moment you left Jungkook. You’ve been so caught up in trying to heal and be someone you’re not that you haven’t really evolved into the person you could have been.

Anything really—maybe a better person, but somehow still the same you. So, what have you become in the last few years? Are you the same? Or not quite?

“Not sure.”

Hope just nods, not as if he’s simply acknowledging what you said, but as if he already knew your answer. It’s uncanny how much talking to him reminds you of Yoongi, both of them having that same no-bullshit approach.

“Listen, I’m not here to play mediator,” yep, definitely like Yoongi, “nor are the others. You need to talk to him, get things sorted before it’s too late.”

“What if it’s already too late?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re so positive.” You whine pathetically.

“And you’re a chronic pessimist.” He mimics you.

“I’m just cautious.” You pull your hands from under your thighs and throw them in the air, more to get your point across than anything.

“No, you’re scared of what might never happen.”

Ouch. But he’s not…not right.

“I’m not. I’m doing snowboarding now, aren’t I?”

“So why are we heading to the nearest petrol station if you’re meant to be snowboarding all week?”

You shut your mouth and slide your hands back under your thighs, as if that might help you disappear. Maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought, and not only Hope but everyone else—including Jungkook—has seen right through you. Is that why Hara wanted to talk to you earlier? Urging you to finally talk to Jungkook?

“Gotcha,” Hope giggles slightly, though when he sees your sad pout, he reaches over to give your knee a quick squeeze before returning his hand to the wheel.

“Alright, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” Okay, maybe not exactly like Yoongi. “But from what I’ve seen and heard, you liked snowboarding. And I’d say you probably enjoyed everything else you’ve done before, too.” He glances over at you. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

You just give a noncommittal shrug.

“You need to trust yourself and your capabilities a bit more. Start having faith in the positive outcomes, not just the negative ones, yeah? You’ll never be able to live without fear if you overthink everything…especially things with Jungkook.”

Your pout deepens, a light sheen of tears coating your lashes, which you tell yourself are just from the hangover crashing down on you now, not from facing the uncomfortable truth of your very persona.

“I know it’s hard, ___. But sometimes thinking the worst makes it real, even though the outcome could’ve been different if you’d just had a bit more faith.”

“Are you talking about snowboarding or Jungkook?”

“Both.” He giggles again, and you can’t help but join in, sniffing your nose a little.

When just then another small town and the petrol station come into view, you straighten up in your seat, realising you’d been slouching more and more throughout the drive.

Even though you’re not looking forward to stepping outside into the cold, you’re glad for a bit of a cooldown, just to ease your exhaustion.

Hope parks his car right next to the petrol pump, and as soon as he turns it off, you both get out and head to the boot where two big empty canisters are waiting.

“Here, I’ll go to the one right behind this one.” He offers you one of the canisters, and while you take it, you’re still confused.

“I only need one, though.”

He’s already unscrewed his, pumping petrol as he leans to the side to look at you.

“Yeah, this one’s for me.”

You’re still confused, but you start filling your canister anyway.

“Isn’t your car electric?”

“Yeah, but I need emergency petrol for the generator in case there’s an outage and the baby’s coming.”

You freeze. Is Hope…? Oh god, you were so wrong all this time. Relief floods through you, so intense that tears spring to your eyes. Jungkook’s not the baby daddy.

“You’re Hara’s baby daddy?” you squeak.

“Gosh, no!”

And now you think you might throw up, the tears shifting back to the heartbreak of yesterday.

“Areum, my wife, she’s seven months pregnant. You missed her yesterday with your epic escape.”

“Oh. Uh, congratulations.”

But you only hear a snort from behind the pump.

Not wanting to fill the canister completely, you settle on half, afraid you might not have enough left in your bank account. You’re not exactly broke, but you’re worried your employer hasn’t transferred your pay on time. Again.

“I’m off to pay,” you mumble as you pass Hope and head into the small, warm station, where a young teenager plagued with acne stands behind the counter, his eyes barely lifting from his phone throughout your whole exchange.

“Your card’s declined, miss.”

The remaining colour drains from your face at his words. This really can’t be happening.

“Could you…could you try again, please?”

The teenager just rolls his eyes, and if you weren’t so mortified, you’d probably give him some shit for being so rude. But again, the familiar sound of your card being declined fills the little station, and when he hands your card back, you just mumble, “Just a second, please,” before stepping to the far corner by the cooling systems and getting your phone out.

And sure enough, your banking app shows you’re completely drained. Fuck. So there’s only one option left, then.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

“Yo,” Yoongi grumbles, and you’re pretty sure you can hear Jungkook’s panicked voice in the background, asking what’s happened.

“I need your help,” you whisper, glancing over at the teenager to check if he can hear, but he’s already engrossed in his phone again.

“What do you need?”

“I’m short on cash. I can’t pay—”

“Why?”

Yoongi’s tone isn’t accusatory in the slightest, just genuinely surprised. Hope comes into the station now too, cocking a brow at you, which you try to ease with a shaky smile.

“My employer’s late with my pay. Again. And the trip and, uh…it all just…”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says, flat, almost monotone, but you know he feels awful now, realising you’re actually struggling, not just joking around. It’s not his fault though; you never talk about money, and maybe he’s apologising not just because he let you pay for everything, but because you haven’t had these conversations before.

“S’alright. Can you just transfer some money quickly so I can—”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

You hear him sigh—one that says, Don’t make this a thing now. Hope’s already paid for his, waiting by the door with his hands in his pockets, scanning some nearby magazines.

Knowing not to waste any more time, you hang up, open your banking app again, and refresh it every few seconds until there it is: a transfer of ten fucking thousand dollars from Yoongi, with the note, Should’ve told me sooner.

You make a mental note to give him a piece of your mind regarding the sum later as you pay for the petrol, and dash out of the station, dragging Hope with you to escape the embarrassment as soon as possible.

“Slow down, will you?”

You let go of his arm once you’re by his car, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration as you mumble, “Sorry. God, I’m such a mess.”

“Come on, we’ll talk in the car. I just wanna get home.”

And you do, silently, closing your eyes as the car winds through the woods back the way you came.

You know Hope doesn’t want to pressure you, but you want to talk about it, just because bottling it up any longer would fry your brain.

“My employer still hasn’t transferred my pay,” you mumble. “I had to call Yoongi to borrow money.”

Hope lets out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head slowly as he listens.

“Again, as in this isn’t the first time?”

“Yeah, as in he owes me several thousand dollars by now.”

“Thousands?”

You tap your knuckle against the window, doing a quick mental tally of how much has piled up since you started working for this guy. “About fifty. Maybe a bit more.”

“No. Fucking. Way.” Hope glances over at you with each word, then back to the road. “___, that’s insane. Fifty thousand?! Why haven’t you sued him? Or quit?”

“I…” Yeah, good question. “I actually don’t know.”

It’s not like it’s a brilliant job worth hanging on to, but working from home has its perks, and finding another role in your field? That’s practically impossible without connections, which you definitely don’t have, seeing as you work from home and have done for years.

“You’re an accountant, yeah?”

“How do you know?” you ask, stopping your gentle tapping against the window to look over at his profile.

“Oh, who d’you think told me?” He gives you a side-eye, looking slightly annoyed, and you just nod. “Areum’s an accountant too. She works for PwC, all remote. They’re looking for someone to cover her on maternity leave, and she gets to pick who fills in for her, soooo…”

“Sooo…?”

“Woman, I’m not spelling it out for you. You’re not that thick.”

Ouch. “Hey! Stop being so rude to me.”

“Then stop acting daft when you’re not.”

God, you want to strangle him. No wonder he gets along so well with Yoongi. You thought he was just this little ray of sunshine with that stupid bright laugh, but he’s feisty as hell.

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble, knowing decisions like this aren’t made right now, especially as the painkillers wear off and your mind’s about to shut down along with your eyelids.

Eventually, sleep takes over, and if you’re honest, you don’t bother fighting it.

“___, wake up.” Hope’s voice and the gentle push of his hand against your shoulder rouse you not long after. And even though sleeping, even just a bit, should have done you some good, you feel worse after a fifteen-minute nap.

Reluctantly, you straighten in your seat, trying to wake up properly, and smack your lips to get the awful taste off your tongue, but it’s no use. You’ll need to brush your teeth as soon as you’re in the suite—there’s no way around it.

“Thanks for driving me,” you rasp, glancing out of the windscreen to see Jungkook hopping from one foot to the other in the cold, his breath rising in small clouds in front of him. “What’s he doing outside?”

“He’s waiting for you.”

“Oh.”

It’s a mystery why Jungkook would do that, seeing as you’re clearly not on good terms. You’ve been trading jabs and whatnot with every interaction, so the fact that he’s not fed up by now is really baffling.

“I’m heading straight home if that’s okay.”

“Oh. Sure, yes, of course, sorry.” You unbuckle your seatbelt, knowing you shouldn’t overstay your welcome, especially as Hope is snickering again. “Thanks again and goodnight.”

“Goodnight. And…talk to him.”

Well, you don’t really have a choice now. Especially when, after closing the passenger door, you walk to the boot to get your half-empty canister, only to find Jungkook already beside you.

“Here, let me help.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes this time, which feels strange after he spent all afternoon staring at you.

“I’ve got this.”

You heft the canister out of the boot and start walking straight to Tony to fill him up, letting the canister rest by your legs, you wave Hope off as he drives away, then clear the side of Tony of snow.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook stands beside you, arms crossed, chest puffed out. He looks intimidating—hotly so—but you’re still pissed and very much not in the mood for a chat.

“What does it look like?”

He just shrugs with a smirk, and as you finish clearing the snow, you realise you’ve done the wrong side of Tony.

How embarrassing.

“Don’t say anything.”

And he doesn’t, aside from a quiet snicker as he follows you to the other side, where you finally start clearing the right bit of snow. This time, you find the cap and pull out your car keys to open it.

Ignoring your wishes, Jungkook picks up the canister and starts pouring the petrol into the car, biting his lip piercings again.

“Talk,” you snap, wanting to get this over with—whatever it is that’s bothering him so much he’s biting his lip bloody.

Jungkook glances briefly at you, and while you’ve seen that sad expression on him countless times, it still stings.

“Why did you leave?”

You sigh, glance towards the hostel, and look back at him. “When? When I broke up with you? On the slope yesterday? From the party? Or to the petrol station?”

Alright, it sounded cooler in your head, but you’re now realising you might have a bit of a tendency to run off. Oops.

“All of them, I guess.” He muses, shutting the cap and screwing the canister lid back on as he turns to you fully.

“Jungkook, that’s a conversation I’m not having with you right now.”

“And when would be the best time for it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe not outside, not in the middle of the night, not when I’m batshit hungover, and especially not when you’ve built a new life for yourself.”

That last bit wasn’t really what you wanted to say, but it slipped out anyway, the perfect proof that it’s indeed not the best time.

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair for you to treat me like this, Jungkook. I’m not doing this anymore.”

You turn while watching him run a hand through his hair, then stomp through the deep snow towards the hostel to stop yourself freezing out here.

“Stop running away!”

“I’m not running away. I’m going to bed. You should too.”

Jungkook catches the door at the last second and steps into Dionysus right behind you.

“You are running away.”

You turn to face him sharply, causing him to nearly bulldoze into you, but he catches himself in time, stepping back a bit with his hands on his hips, still clutching the canister in his reddened hand.

“Why did you need petrol for Tony, who’s been out of it for days? Why now?”

You purse your lips, mirroring his stance instinctively, staring each other down. You’re stubborn, but so is he, and you’re not backing down. He wants to start a fight? See who breaks first? See if you’re really running away from him? Well, you’ll prove him wrong.

“Safety. Caution. Responsibility. Take your pick.”

There’s a familiar glint in his eyes—the one that says he knows you’re bullshitting him. God, you’ve missed this. Missed him.

“So, not fleeing the scene, hm?”

“Not fleeing the scene.”

And you’re not. Change of plans: you’re staying. You’ll stay, and you’ll whoop his ass by becoming the best snowboarder on the planet.

Jungkook just nods, and you nod back.

Usually, this would be the moment he’d tackle you and fuck the truth out of you in no time. And though you can vividly picture it, you need to keep your distance. So before the tension builds too much, before Jungkook becomes too much, you stop nodding and let your arms drop to your sides.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.”

He mirrors your stance, and though his eyes dim with that usual sadness, you refuse to see it as longing. Because why would he?

“Goodnight, ___.”

You nod, and while you can’t quite tear yourself away from his gaze, you eventually turn and head up to your suite, finding Yoongi already silently and fast asleep, you can’t help but to leave a tiny gap in the door, just enough to watch as Jungkook disappears into his own room.

Day 5

You feel good.

No, scratch that—you feel absolutely pumped, energised, and oh-so-ready for the day. There’s a wild fire blazing through your veins, just waiting to be unleashed, and you’re absolutely down for it.

Sitting alone in the dining room after that little talk with Yoongi about the sum he transferred to your bank account, only to be met with an eye roll in response, you’re busy preparing the most protein-packed breakfast Namjoon’s buffet has on offer. You’ll definitely need it—not just because your body’s craving nutrients, but because your brain needs to be at its best so you can finally beat Jungkook at his own game.

No, not with his petty remarks and actions, but by getting your answers with carefully placed, strategically even, questions so he doesn’t even realise you’re grilling him. You’re brilliant, so of course you can pull this off. The sulky victim era of ___ is over—here comes the new, improved you.

Though, if you’re honest, you know there’s a pretty decent chance that Jungkook might catch on to your plan. He’s always been good at that, always been just as brilliant as you. But his competitive side usually has you beat by the end of the day. But not today. Today, you’re determined to win.

Especially when the man himself strolls in, looking sinfully good. His hair’s damp, falling messily over his forehead and eyes, while his thin white shirt hangs loosely off his shoulders, clinging slightly to his skin where he didn’t dry off properly.

“Morning, Kook,” you chirp, practically singing it, intentionally calling him by the nickname you lovingly gave him all those years ago.

Jungkook slows his steps, one eyebrow raised and lips pursed. The confusion’s painted all across his face exactly as you’d hoped. Excellent.

“Morning.” He stops at your table, glancing at the empty chairs next to you and opposite you, and when he takes the one right beside you, you’re doing a little celebratory dance on the inside.

“Did you sleep well, Kook?” He eyes you as he gets his plate ready, and while he answers, you take a small bite of your food, your overly cheerful grin firmly in place.

“Uh, yeah, did you?”

“Of course! Snuggly kept me company all night.”

The confusion in Jungkook’s eyes deepens, and you’d give anything to know what’s running through his head right now. You keep your face just as innocent and cheerful as possible, though it’s getting harder by the second.

“So, what’ve you been up to these past five months?” If your math’s right, Hara’s now a little over four months along. So, if Jungkook was around back then, you’ve got your answer.

“Five months?” He raises an eyebrow again, biting into the sandwich he’s just thrown together. There’s far more ham than bread—probably more to keep his hands clean than for actual taste.

“Yeah, where’ve you all been, then?”

“Uh,” Jungkook chews, blinking at you. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure you out. “I’ve been to Bangkok, Hawaii, and, uh… before that, I was here for a few months.”

No. Fucking. Way. So all those mixed signals, not only from Jungkook but all his friends too, weren’t so mixed after all.

“This town’s pretty small. Is there anything exciting to do off-season?”

“Well, Hara had a huge birthday celebration. So there was that.”

“Hara’s birthday’s in August?”

“Yeah, why?”

So he gave her a baby for her birthday. How pathetic it makes you feel, realising you’ve been too busy being still his to fall for someone new all this time. But you don’t let the heartbreak show this time. You swallow it down because shutting down won’t help you now.

“Just asking.”

Jungkook just nods again, still contemplating your words, trying to read your motives like he always does, though you’re as blank as can be beneath your smile. It’s not that you’ve lost your determination to get through snowboarding—no, you’re way too competitive and stubborn to back down now. Still, you kind of wish you were as drunk as you’d been two days ago.

The upside of being fully sober again is that you feel fantastic. Physically, anyway. The downside is that your brain won’t shut up.

You vividly remember the night you ended things, the exhaustion, the desperation in your every word as you tried to explain yourself to him. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him; you did and you still do, maybe even more than you should. But back then, you’d grown tired of always feeling like you weren’t enough, of feeling like you were someone he didn’t really need.

You’d always been the one to soothe your doubts on your own, to make excuses for him and his choices, to tell yourself it was just a phase, that he’d eventually grow out of it—that he’d grow out of it for you. Not that he’d never do anything risky again, but just enough for him to see that some things are too dangerous to try.

Losing him was completely your fault, you know that, and even though he’s going to be a dad—even if it’s not your child—you’d crawl back to him in a heartbeat if there were any chance. Not that you’d ever be a homewrecker; that’s something you’d never do, and you’ll respect any relationship on earth as it is. But if he’s only going to be a father, if he’s only co-parenting with Hara and they’re not together, you’d try to make it work somehow.

Or maybe you’re just delusional, thinking you’d be okay with him having a kid that’s not yours. Because deep down, the thought of him being with someone else after you—even if you weren’t together anymore—makes you want to throw up. Not just because picturing it is one of your worst nightmares, but because all the love declarations he made, and will probably make again in that scenario, would be empty in their truest form. At least in your eyes.

There’s nothing you can do about it; it’s not like you’re some grandma who thinks virginity before marriage is a must. But if he was with you and says he’d want to be with you again, there’s no chance if he had someone else in between.

Jungkook sniffs beside you, and you’re not exactly proud that, since learning he’s staying here at the hostel too, you’ve kept spare napkins nearby, just like the good old days, and you’re not proud as you hand him one with a small smile, still chewing, knowing his rhinitis is worst in the morning.

“Thanks,” he’s smiling, though there’s still that look of doubt in his eyes, as if he’s still trying to work out what you’re up to. “So, how about you?”

You’ve half a mind to exaggerate again, but you know you’ll need to save your energy today, especially since you’re spending the whole day with Jungkook. So you stick to the truth. “Nothing really. Mostly work, and a few activities I’ve tried.”

“It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“You doing all that stuff.”

Jungkook doesn’t look as accusatory as he did the first day; this time, he actually looks…sad.

“Didn’t you want me that way?” You keep your tone light, friendly even, but deep down, that old pettiness rises to the surface.

“No.” The word slips from his lips without a moment’s hesitation, his sad eyes fixed on yours, and suddenly, you can’t breathe. It just doesn’t make sense.

“I…why?”

He slowly swallows his last bite and reaches for his coffee, just to toy with the rim of the mug. Then he lifts his gaze to meet yours, boring into your irises as if to tell you more than he’s actually saying. “That’s not you.”

You just stare at him, trying to understand why he’d want you to change all those years ago, only to now tell you, indirectly, he doesn’t like the person he’d pushed you to become. No words form in your brain, again too overwhelmed by it all, so you just nod, because quite honestly, he’s right. It’s not who you are, even if some of the less riskier activities, like snowboarding, turned out to be more fun than you’d expected.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to handle the silence well as you quietly finish your meal, as his leg starts bouncing under the table again, occasionally brushing against yours. You’re sure he doesn’t even notice it, but you do and while you think about shifting your leg slightly away, that faint touch of his somehow soothes the intense longing you have for him.

How many times you’ve thought about calling him, only to remind yourself he was the one who let you go without a word, is beyond counting now. Trying to count would be like trying to reach infinity without breaking down as the despair catches up to you and you simply can’t do either.

You need, with all your might, to pull your mind out of this endless void and focus on the good. You’re able to have a normal conversation with Jungkook. He’s fine. You’re fine. And if you can make it through these next two weeks, you tell yourself that you’ll be fine too, even if it’s without him. Because that countdown in your head has shifted—from thinking you’ve got time to work things out, to savouring these last moments with him as much as possible, hoping to make memories you can hold onto as fondly as the ones you made all those years ago.

“So, today’s blue slope day?”

Jungkook nods with a smirk, eyes still on his cup, clearly lost in thought. “Yeah. You ready?”

“Sure. I was born ready.”

The snort that escapes him mirrors your own, letting the sadness fade into that playful light in his eyes you’ve always adored when he finally looks back up to you.

“Then let’s head out, shall we?”

“Yes, sir!” You salute playfully, downing the rest of your or rather his iced Americano—sneakily poured into a regular mug—in one go and standing as soon as Jungkook does.

It doesn’t take long for you both to get fully geared up and leave the hostel, Jungkook closing the usual distance between you by walking much closer than he has on any of the previous days, though you welcome it this time.

“Give me your board.” Jungkook stretches out his free hand towards you when you’re just a few feet away from Dionysos.

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can. But you don’t have to.”

Wondering whether you’re about to be stubborn again, you decide to let him help you. It’s a nice gesture, and knowing his strength—which has clearly grown over the last few years—it’s no bother for him to carry your snowboard too. So you hand it to him, mumbling a small, grateful “thanks” and fall into step with him, the rustling of your gear and the dull thud of your boots the only sounds breaking the otherwise silent streets.

“It’s such a lovely day.” You marvel at the first rays of sunlight shining down, making the snow-covered streets steam ever so slightly, looking straight out of a fantasy.

The town’s not fully awake yet; a few people are setting up their displays outside, greeting you both with warm smiles and friendly faces. It’s easy being here, so welcoming when you ignore the chaos that’s crashed down on you since you arrived.

You’d like to imagine living here, spending the rest of your life in this place with Jungkook, befriending his friends too, all in some alternate universe. You daydream about a winter wedding, teaching your kids how to build a snowman, and everything else.

It would be nice, it would be perfect. Because in that universe, you’d still be with Jungkook, and you’d be not only happy but fulfilled.

“It is, the slopes should be perfect too.”

A small group of kindergarteners crosses your path just before the slopes, and as your gaze drifts from them to the shop windows behind, you catch the reflection of you and Jungkook side by side. He’s looking at the kids, full of adoration, with that same endearing smile you fell in love with all those years ago.

His hair’s just as shiny and healthy, his eyes sparkling in that familiar way. You’ve always known how much Jungkook wants a family—he always has, just as you always did. It’s one of the reasons you connected so quickly. His values and hopes for the future aligned so perfectly with yours that falling for him and picturing a life together was almost inevitable.

You knew back then that having different hobbies wasn’t the most important thing in a relationship, that differences in those areas wouldn’t decide its downfall. But somehow, you both let those differences take centre stage.

It wasn’t just poor communication that damaged things; you lost sight of what truly mattered, letting the good become tainted with doubt, trust begin to crack, and your hearts bleed in ways they never should have.

Standing there now, side by side, you realise that everything that happened, the way you both handled things, was so unnecessarily foolish. You wish you’d made different choices. You look perfect together, like one of those couples you see and just know they’re meant to be, like they’re soulmates, like they’re fated.

Jungkook’s eyes lift up, catching yours in the window, and his smile grows just a bit wider. There’s still that adoration there—or is it just nostalgia? Or maybe it’s the inner peace he feels, knowing he’ll soon have a child of his own? You’re not sure, and you’re afraid to let yourself think too deeply about it. Because, honestly, if it’s anything but adoration, you’d spiral so much, so irrevocably, that you might just break all over again.

Switching your board to his other hand, where he’s already holding his own, he lifts his now free arm and wraps it over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. Your head doesn’t even reach his eyes, and your shoulder aligns perfectly with his arm, like you’re a puzzle piece fitting into him. You can’t help the broad smile that breaks over your face when he says, “I’m glad you’re here.”

You turn away from the window, tilting your head up to look into his beautiful brown eyes, taking in this small, pure moment that you’ll lock away in the deepest parts of your heart and cherish for the rest of your life. “Me too.”

Simple moments like these with Jungkook have always been so beautiful. It’s always been like this, just the two of you in a bubble where nothing else matters. The ache in your heart should ease in moments like this, but instead, it grows, the longing building until it’s nearly unbearable.

How perfect it would feel to kiss him now, how your heart and soul would sing if he kissed you back. The realisation—the overwhelming certainty—that he truly was the one for you hits you like an avalanche, burying you so deeply you’ll never find a way out.

Still, you turn your face away, and he lets you go.

“Let’s get it.” Jungkook cheers, and you echo his words, because you don’t know what else to say, walking side by side to the lift. Thankfully, this time without any annoying interruptions from his fangirls.

The first ride up in the ski gondola is equal parts terrifying and beautiful. The trees below look like miniature toys, and the mountain peaks seem too stunning to be real, like a picture painted by an artist. The gondola is empty except for the two of you, Jungkook sitting across from you, both of you gazing outside. But every now and then, you can’t help glancing at his reflection.

Jungkook talks the entire way up, going over everything you should know about snowboarding by now. His calm voice, his solid presence right in front of you, and his patient review of the basics settle the last of your nerves, along with Hope’s words, still ringing loudly in your mind.

Fear is faith in the negative.

And you don’t want to live like that again—not now, and not when it’s just snowboarding. You trust your own abilities, and you trust Jungkook to keep you safe, like he always has. Well, aside from that one camping incident—but you’ll turn a blind eye to that for now. You have to, because one lapse in his judgement all those years ago shouldn’t undo everything else he’s proven to you.

The morning is spent making descent after descent, each one becoming easier and more fun, especially with Jungkook staying close. You manage to fall less and less, and when you do, he’s always right there, reaching out to help you back on your feet.

And while you’re laughing and joking like old times, it feels as if no time has passed at all.

Just before lunch, you both find yourselves back at the gondola, though this time it’s a different one.

“There’s this restaurant way up there.” Jungkook points into the distance, and you squint, trying to follow his finger, but the sun is too bright to make out exactly where he’s pointing. “The food’s amazing, and we’ll be able to take a way longer run down. It’ll build your stamina and get you ready for the harder slopes tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” You smile at him, excited not only for the food but also for the chance to push yourself a bit more.

When you step into the gondola with a few others, it’s so packed that you have to squeeze in beside Jungkook, pressing against his side. With his broad shoulders and your thick coat, there’s not much room and after a few minutes, Jungkook shifts and lifts his arm, draping it over your shoulder to give you both a bit more space.

You frown. Even though it’s more comfortable this way, you don’t like it at all. If he’s with Hara, this is crossing boundaries left and right. You know that if you were still together and he did this with another woman, it’d be a dealbreaker.

The gesture sours your mood instantly, letting your thoughts spiral in a way that has you dangerously close to snapping at him. But you hold back. You won’t start a scene now, not here; you’ll wait until you’re at the restaurant and talk things through.

When you reach the top and leave the gondola, heading toward the small restaurant by the lift, Jungkook keeps his hand resting lightly on your back.

It’s ironic, really. You left because you wanted him to find happiness, to be with someone who wouldn’t bring conflict, someone he wouldn’t feel the need to change. And here he is, supposedly happy, yet acting like you’re still his, clinging to old habits like they’re the only things he has left with you.

Maybe that’s the saddest part of all. He’s got everything he once told you he wanted, yet he’s still holding onto pieces of the past, unable to let them go. And maybe he’ll never fully move on, just like you haven’t, even if he thinks he has. But that’s not something you can fix. You tried—more than once—to help him keep his distance, to let go of whatever still kept him wounded. Even if it wasn’t the perfect approach, pretending to be with Yoongi, you thought it might help him move on. But he has to handle that himself now; you’re done being the one to guide him there.

You deserve peace, too. You deserve to be able to look back on your time together without feeling unresolved tension. If that means keeping your distance, letting him live his life with Hara without stepping in, then so be it. You’re done making excuses for him, done justifying his behaviour to yourself. He’s made his choices, back then and now too, and now it’s time for you to make yours.

You take a deep breath, letting it all settle within you as you step into the restaurant. The hurt, the sadness, the longing—sure, it’s all still there, and maybe it always will be. But now, it’s just that: memories. Moments you once cherished, now filed away in a part of your heart that no longer needs to cling so tightly. Or at least, that’s what you hope.

As you sit down across from him, letting go bit by bit, you realise that maybe this is what closure should feel like. Hurtful, and not freeing at all.

“You’re kinda touchy.”

Jungkook looks up from his menu, running the tip of his tongue over his lip piercing. “I always am.”

Your lips press into a firm line, shoulders tensing even more. Jungkook’s eyes dart over you, and he realises too late that your mood has shifted. As he catches on, his nervous habits start to surface in an instant. He fumbles with his menu, his leg bouncing so hard that the tablecloth shifts slightly with each movement.

“Doesn’t it feel wrong to you?” You ask, your tone so accusatory it even startles you.

Jungkook gulps, actually gulps, and you feel the urge to laugh or maybe storm off altogether.

“No?” He sounds uncertain, though there’s a strange conviction in his voice, even with his nerves. “Does it bother you?”

“Yes.”

You stare each other down, Jungkook nodding but tilting his head slightly, eyebrows drawn. “Is it because of Yoongi?”

Should you come clean and tell him you’re not dating Yoongi, that he’s just your cousin? But you can’t see the point. It wouldn’t change anything now, you’re sure of that. Though you’re not sure if the snort and shake of your head is more because of how absurd it all is, or if it’s meant to answer his question. Either way, it fits. And as Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw clenching in a steady rhythm, you don’t say anything more.

The tension between you feels like it’s growing and the silence between you both is almost suffocating you. You try to distract yourself by looking at the scenery outside the window, but it’s no use.

“I never wanted to do all those things,” you mumble, as if you can somehow lift a bit of the weight off your chest. “But I felt so…so unworthy…so empty. I needed to do it, even if I hated most of it.”

The waiter sets down your plates and drinks, wishing you a pleasant meal. Still, you don’t look up at Jungkook, maybe out of embarrassment, maybe because you just can’t. Instead, you stare at your food, forcing yourself to eat, even if it’s only a little.

“You shouldn’t have.” His voice is gentle, and you feel his gaze burning onto your face, though you try to ignore it. “Not for someone else, at least.”

Is he talking about himself? Or does he think you did it all for Yoongi? Either way, he’s right, though those words would have made more difference if he’d said them years ago.

“Maybe you’re right.”

It’s unusual to see Jungkook eating so slowly, and it’s not like you to keep so quiet, either. It’s not that you can’t handle silence, but sharing a meal like this without any connection feels so pointless.

“Was it easy?” Jungkook eventually asks, and your eyes involuntarily snap up to him.

“What was?”

“Moving on so fast…”

Sometimes, looking at Jungkook like you do now, you marvel at how much he’s matured. His features have lost that softness, his smooth skin now showing faint lines from laughter and time you weren’t there to share.

You’d always imagined growing old with him, and even though it hasn’t been that long, your heart aches for all the time lost.

The faint, bluish shadows under his eyes, something he didn’t even have during his finals, make him look not just tired, but drained off life. You can only hope it’s not because of you.

“I never did, so I can’t say.”

You both go back to eating, letting silence settle again as you try to process it all. Maybe you need a whiteboard, or even a list, something to help you make sense of it all, thinking you’ll definitely do that later, once you’re back at the hostel tonight.

More than half your plate is still full, but you can’t seem to eat any more. As you set your cutlery down and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, you notice Jungkook’s already finished his meal.

“You should eat more.”

“I’m full. I’ll just take it to go.”

And after Jungkook sighs and nods, you do just that, quickly insisting you’ll pay for your own meal, refusing to let him cover it for you.

Finally back outside, the sky has shifted, like your mood, from sunny and clear to dark, with low-hanging, heavy clouds.

“That’s odd,” Jungkook mutters, fishing his phone out and typing quickly. “Forecast didn’t mention a downpour.”

“What should we do?” Your nerves flare, body tingling and palms starting to sweat as that familiar panic creeps in, the kind that takes over any time things veer off-plan.

Jungkook’s eyes dart over his screen, only adding to your unease.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath and puts his phone away. “So, uh, there’s a thunder cell that’s come up out of nowhere, and there’s a warning for a severe snowstorm. But it’s all good. We still have time.”

Just then, the first big snowflakes start falling from the clouds, and the wind picks up. As you look up at the sky, your voice trembles, “Jungkook?”

“Alright, okay, maybe we don’t have as much time as I thought. We’re going to head down this way quickly, but safely.” He points toward a fork in the path where you can see a sign with a blue dot in one direction and a black one in the other—the black meaning it’s the most difficult and dangerous run there is.

“Okay.” You don’t sound entirely convinced, partly because, while you believe in your skills, you know that in these weather conditions, even the best skills won’t count for much.

“Strap on your board. We need to go.”

And you follow his instructions because, at this point, there’s no other option. The wind has picked up dramatically by the time you straighten up again, and you have to strain every muscle to stay upright against its force.

You’re terrified, and Jungkook’s focused, hurried pace isn’t doing much to settle your nerves.

“You’re leading, so I can keep my eyes on you.”

You nod, shifting your weight forward to start descending, but keeping control of the board proves not just difficult, but almost impossible. Your vision blurs with the flurry of snowflakes, even through your goggles, you can barely make out the slope or see the fork ahead.

“To the right!” you hear Jungkook shout from behind, his voice frantic to its core. But as you pick up speed, the wind shoves you beyond the limit of what you can handle, pushing you towards the left, dangerously close to the black run.

“To the right, ___!”

You try, you really do, but you can’t seem to manage it. Like a leaf in a gale, you’re pulled in the direction you don’t want to go, helpless to stop it. Lungs burning with each short breath, you think you scream the moment you realise it’s too late, skidding down the steep, black slope.

You try to brake, just like Jungkook taught you, but your knees are weak, your muscles not trained enough to regain control.

Jungkook rushes up beside you, and even though you’re in full survival mode, his presence brings you a tiny sliver of reassurance, even if it’s just for a while.

“You’re doing good, keep going!”

And you do, tears streaming down under your scarf. The storm keeps pushing you off course, pulling you again and again in directions you don’t want to go. But Jungkook’s right there, sticking close beside you, trying to block out some of the wind’s blasts and guiding you as best as he can.

It feels like an eternity—fighting against nature, fighting to stay upright, fighting the fear building stronger and stronger in your chest. Somehow, even though you left the marked slope ages ago, heading somewhere unknown and unsure if it’ll lead you to safety, you spot a small, abandoned-looking hut in the distance.

“Try to stop!” Jungkook yells, his voice barely reaching you through the howling wind.

“Now?”

“Now!”

You manage to stop, though clumsily, falling hard onto your bum, every muscle aching so painfully you’re barely able to move. Jungkook ditches his board in seconds, crawling over to help you with yours as the frozen clips stubbornly resist coming loose.

“You good?” He glances briefly at your face, breath visible in short puffs matching yours, his lips chapped and slightly split.

You nod, though you’re still trembling, trying to steady yourself as adrenaline surges through you without much mercy.

Jungkook gets up with your board in hand, offering his free hand to you in a heartbeat and pulling you up effortlessly. After he picks up his own board, jointing yours, he clasps your hand with his free one and bolts towards the hut, dragging you along with him.

Thankfully, or rather miraculously, the hut’s indeed abandoned and open. And while Jungkook pushes you inside first, letting the boards clatter onto the wooden floor as he leans against the door, both of you are panting and gasping for air, needing this break more than anything.

The hut’s not really windproof, small gaps in the wooden walls still letting the cold wind whistle inside.

“Seriously? What the hell were you thinking?!” He rips his helmet off and throws it to the boards on the ground.

You try to straighten yourself, though the ache’s nearly too much. “I… I tried. I… it…”

“You just never listen, do you? I told you to turn right back there, but of course, you went your own way. Always have, always will.”

The storm outside’s picked up even more now, and the cold has seeped into your bones, though you still fold your arms, doing your best to keep your voice steady despite the burn in your lungs. “Oh, please, Jungkook. Don’t act like I’m the only one who doesn’t listen. You’ve got selective hearing when it suits you.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a gloved hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Selective hearing? I spent years trying to tell you things, but you were always too stubborn to actually listen.”

“Right, yeah, I’m the stubborn one,” you snap right back. “You still can’t even talk to me unless it’s about some bullshit like snowboarding.”

“Oh, as if you’re any better.”

“I am! You didn’t even say one word before I left!” you explode, ripping off your helmet too, followed by your gloves, yeeting them across the hut.

“Oh, fuck off, ___! I wanted to, but clearly, you couldn’t wait to fuck Yoongi as soon as you got rid off me!”

“Yoongi’s my cousin, Jungkook. Family. But I wouldn’t expect you to know that, since you barely know anything about my life anymore.”

Jungkook’s face falls at that, and you can clearly see how his whole world view crumbles in his eyes, leaving nothing behind but a hollow sadness you’ve never seen before. Though you’re sad too, you’re hollow too, and so you continue, “Don’t pin this on me when I never moved on, when you were the one fucking Hara and giving her a baby.”

His unfocused eyes snap to you, lips still parted as he breathes, “I never slept with her. She’s Jin’s wife.”

You feel like you’re falling, falling so hard and fast you can’t stop. The tears that coat your eyes are nothing compared to the agonising realisation ripping you open. All those years, even all this hurt you’ve been experiencing these last few days, were unfounded.

If you weren’t this close to Jungkook, you’d think his red nose was just from the cold, but the silver lining his eyes carry shows just how broken you both are, what you did to yourselves without even realising it in the first place.

“You moved on,” you press out, fighting the sob that threatens to spill.

“I haven’t.”

How foolish all the assumptions were, how foolish of him to assume just as much. How utterly foolish that you both lost the ability to talk to each other long before your relationship ended.

But maybe it had to come to this for you to learn what it’s like to be separated, to learn how to communicate… but have you really? You reckon you haven’t, not given how things went down. Maybe it’s too late, just as Hope warned you, though a small, fragile part in you clings to the delusion that things might still turn out right.

“Let’s… let’s call for help.” You turn, unable to keep looking at Jungkook, and you’re sure he needs time to process the bomb that’s just dropped.

“Yeah,” he’s taking out his phone again, though the breath he lets out is nothing short of concerning. “My phone’s dead. How about yours?”

By now you’ve sat down on the small, bare bed, as standing any longer would have had you fainting by this point. While you rummage through your inner coat pocket to pull out your old beaten-up phone, Jungkook stomps over with his snow-covered boots and sits down beside you, leaving enough space between you that it feels like miles.

Lighting up the screen, you see your phone’s battery miraculously still well over 90%, but there’s absolutely no signal. “Nope, no signal. We’re stranded.”

Just as you’re about to put your phone back, Jungkook stops you with his voice. “You still got the case?”

You pause, looking over at him, only to meet hopeful eyes you can’t quite place.

“Uh, yeah. You clearly got rid of yours though.”

You hate sounding so bitter, but it is what it is. Years of feeling the way you did can’t be undone with one revelation.

“I lost it… my phone, too, when I was in the Caribbean shortly after we…”

You hum and nod because what else is there to do?

“Why did you keep it?”

Your eyes stray from your phone, where you’re running your thumb over one of Jungkook’s doodles on the case like it always does, to him, though he’s not looking at you this time, just fiddling with his gloves in his lap.

“I can’t get rid of memories. You should know that.”

“Even if they’re bad?” He turns his head to you, though his eyes are fixed on your phone. The way he’s slouching is so unlike him, and it hurts to see what you’ve done to him.

“They aren’t bad.”

Jungkook nods a few times, as if he’s trying to cement your words in his mind, rewriting everything he thought was real but never was.

Eventually, Jungkook stands up and walks over to a small closet, pulling open the doors to see what’s inside.

“No way.” He breathes out a laugh, and you crane your neck to look past his broad shoulders, though it’s no use.

When he turns, arms full of vacuum bags stuffed with blankets and pillows, you feel like you might scream in delight. Especially when Jungkook rips them open beside you and a waft of freshly washed fabric hits you.

“That’s like hitting the jackpot.” You look up at him, your grin as wide as his as he just laughs. “Can you light the fireplace too?”

Jungkook furrows his brows as he looks around the hut, likely because he hadn’t spotted it until now. But as soon as he clocks it, along with the stack of dried wood beside it, he’s off in a flash, inspecting the chimney and everything else.

Meanwhile, you gather all the bedding and spread it out on the bed, purposefully ignoring the fact that there’s only this one bed in the hut and not even a couch. It shouldn’t be a big deal—you’ve done more than sleep in the same bed as Jungkook before, and you’re both clearly single, so there’s nothing your conscience can protest about.

Still, time has passed, and you’ve clearly drifted apart more than you would’ve liked. It’s an unusual situation you’re in, an emergency really, and you’ll have to adjust to it without reading too much into it.

“Got a lighter on you?”

You pull it out of your pocket, leaving Yoongi’s cigarettes in your pocket that you nicked this morning alongside before leaving, and toss the lighter his way which he catches effortlessly with one hand, lighting up the kindling he’s set, framed by a few larger sticks of wood.

Jungkook watches the fire intently, and soon enough the hut’s heating up, allowing you to take off your coat. Not wanting to keep your boots on any longer—by now, they’ve cut off all circulation in your feet—you pull them off as well, then crawl onto the bed, settling against the headboard under the layers of blankets.

You’re absolutely knackered at this point, and as you check the time on your phone, you realise it’s already past dinnertime.

“You can join me, you know?” you smile as Jungkook turns around, muttering an “okay” and starting to peel off his gear too, though you don’t miss the flush creeping up to his ears.

How endearing he can still be.

The bed’s clearly not meant for two—especially not when Jungkook’s become this buff. He’d probably struggle to fit on his own, let alone with someone else. And though you’re fairly petite next to him, you’re both squished together, personal space nonexistent. Still, it’s better than freezing to death outside.

“I’m so tired,” you yawn.

“I’m so hungry.”

The pout on Jungkook’s face makes you giggle; it’s just so him. Without thinking, you lean over him to fetch the food from your coat. Only when you settle back beside him do you notice how stiff he’s gone.

You don’t comment on it, just hand him the leftovers, which he reluctantly takes, though this time he doesn’t engulf your hands like he did yesterday. Not that you’d admit it, but you’re a bit sad he didn’t do it again.

“You hungry too? It’s your food.”

“I’m good, Jungkook, please just eat.”

You’re starting to read him again, just a bit less hazy than it was the last few days. So before he can start arguing with you, those sad boba eyes pleading for you to eat when you’re genuinely not hungry, you lay your hand over his arm, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m not hungry, promise.”

With that, Jungkook starts to eat and you lean back, slumping more into the blankets as he eats in silence, your eyes growing heavy with each passing minute.

“You can sleep if you want.” Jungkook gently pulls the blanket higher over your shoulder as you lie down fully, your head nearly resting against his hip.

“I’m still cold,” you mumble sleepily, though there’s no chance you’ll really fall asleep while you’re still shivering like this. The storm’s really taken it out of you.

Jungkook shifts, and when you open your eyes, you realise he’s finished eating and is lying down facing you. “Turn around.”

Lying beside him like this, faces just inches apart, is something you never thought would happen again. And while it’s hard to look away from him—the slope of his nose, the Cupid’s bow of his lips making them almost too inviting—you fight against the blankets draped over you both and turn around. Jungkook slips an arm around your waist without much care, pulling you fully against him until there’s no space left between you.

Heart racing like a hummingbird’s wings, you try to relax into his hold, but the thin layer of fabric separating you makes it feel as though you’re bare. You’d seen the contours of his body when he stripped off his gear, the black thermal shirt and pants clinging to his muscles like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. But feeling his solid body against yours like this, after so long, leaves your head spinning in circles you can’t seem to stop.

You haven’t noticed how your hips press back against his crotch, haven’t noticed the way your body instinctively moves against his until Jungkook’s breath hits your ear.

“Sorry,” you breathe, but somehow, you can’t bring yourself to stop. His large hand, which had been resting on the mattress beside you, slides up along your stomach, stopping just before cupping your breast from below, and you know you’ve stepped through a door that should’ve been left closed.

Heat rises within you, making you shiver with something far more pleasant than the cold. You need more of him, more of his touch, and your hand slips from beneath the blankets, reaching back to tangle in the hair at the back of his head, willing yourself to just feel and nothing more.

His quick breaths ghost across the part of your neck that’s bare, just enough to spark more want not only in your heart but your cunt too. You tug gently at his hair, urging him down, igniting a fire you know won’t be put out easily.

Before his hand fully cups your breast, he pulls you even tighter against him, hot lips kissing and sucking at your skin as you press yourself back, trying to ease the ache between your legs against his growing cock.

The low moans slipping from Jungkook’s throat are music to your ears, and the realisation that he likely sang that song not for Hara, but for you, sends another wave of arousal out of your cunt.

“Jungkook…” you rasp, basking in his touch, but as soon as his name leaves your lips, he pulls back.

Thinking you’ve done something wrong, you turn your head, only to see him tugging off the last of his clothes. Relieved and more turned on than you’ve ever been, you strip off your own gear, leaving the blanket draped over you. It’s been years, your body’s changed, and while you know it shouldn’t matter, you still hope he doesn’t notice.

In a blink, he’s back, resuming where he left off, though now it’s his warm, smooth skin against yours. The ridges of his abdomen press along your back, and the feel of his cock—hard and oh so hot—against the cheeks of your ass is pure bliss.

You turn your head, trying to catch his gaze, maybe even hoping for a kiss, but when you catch sight of the familiar chain around his neck, it stops you in your tracks.

Jungkook pauses too, his eyes questioning, but as soon as he realises what you’re looking at, he gives you a lazy smirk, his hand cupping your face to turn you towards him and with it your whole body.

You expect him to kiss you now, hungrily like he always did, but instead, he brushes his lips along your cheek, your neck, shifting to settle between your legs while the cool metal of the chain’s grazing your tits with every shift of his body.

“I don’t have a condom. I could…eat you out.”

His thigh pressing against you doesn’t lessen the ache, but you remember the one scare you had together, that time you thought you might be pregnant not long after you’d started dating. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t have wanted it, but you’d both been so young. Even now, the thought makes your heart skip, but not as violently as it used to. You’d be ready and willing to take the risk, though, would he?

“I’m clean, on the pill.”

Jungkook lets out a low groan against your neck as you press your thigh gently against his cock, needing to give something back.

“I haven’t been with anyone since you. So clean.”

Is he serious? The thought hits you hard, and though you know he never lied to you before, you still can’t help but pull back, needing to see his face.

“You haven’t?”

“No.” His voice is barely a whisper, and the same love you remember shines in his eyes, making you tear up.

“Me too.”

“Fuck.” He returns to your neck, his fingers tracing your lines until they find your weeping cunt, slipping between your lips to spread your juices in gentle, familiar strokes as he preps you, every touch an echo of the love that maybe never faded.

The first stretch of his middle finger inside you is nothing short of insane, drawing you higher with a single stroke than any toy has managed in years. The way your cunt clenches around him seems to drive Jungkook on even more as he pumps with precise motions, soon adding his ring finger, bringing you dangerously close to euphoria.

Jungkook’s free hand roams from your neck to your tits, back and forth, squeezing, mapping you out like he forgot how you felt like, though finally resting on your jaw as he nestles his head between your shoulder and neck, leaving soft love bites in his wake.

It’s when he picks up the pace, the base of his palm hitting your clit relentlessly with each thrust, that you come undone, your orgasm flooding over his hand as he continues, determined to not stop just yet.

A muffled whine of your name slips from his lips, softer than you’ve ever heard, and while you long to hear him call your pet name like he used to, it only amplifies the fullness in your heart for him.

Jungkook keeps his fingers inside you, now scissoring them to stretch you further as you cling to his back, not caring if you leave angry marks.

“Think you can take it?”

“Yes,” you mewl, not caring if you couldn’t. You’ll take him, you need him, need to feel as if none of those years apart ever happened.

Once again, you think he might finally kiss you, but instead, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your damp forehead. You momentarily frown, but it’s forgotten the second his cock aligns with your still sobbing cunt, dragging up and down to coat his entire length and even his tight balls.

The sight of Jungkook when he finally pushes in is nothing short of mesmerising. He’s so perfectly sculpted, every muscle cord defined, and with his piercings and tattoo sleeve, he looks like a fantasy you never dared dreaming of.

You’ve always had a weak spot for tattoos, but seeing them inked across Jungkook’s skin? That’s your ultimate downfall. A glorious downfall, as the burn of his thick length pushing deep inside you sends you reeling, until he’s so far in that you can’t tell where he starts and you end.

“Oh my god,” you choke out, overwhelmed by everything Jungkook is—and everything he’s become.

He’s unusually silent, though you barely notice, not when he begins to rock his hips, leisurely sliding his massive cock in and out, low grunts and moans escaping him as his gaze locks onto yours and not dares to stray.

Jungkook leans back, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, sweat forming in small beads along the ridges of his chest and abs, dripping down despite the cold. His nipples are hard, and your mouth waters with the urge to suck on them. But seeing his own mouth slightly parted, breaths quickening in time with the rhythm of his hips, you’re sure he’s thinking the same, drawn to your own nipples, standing proud on the jiggling flesh of your chest.

And while you wish you were the flicker of firelight dancing across his skin, you’re not far behind, as his hands find their way from your hips to your tits, caressing them like he always did, giving you everything and far more. You need something to ground yourself, a way to keep from shattering under the emotions running wild in your mind, intensified with every thrust Jungkook drives into your core. So, you grip his wrists, not to stop him, but to urge him on—to make him pinch harder.

Maybe you need the bite of it, maybe you want him to not just take away the ache, but be the reason you remember this night years from now.

“Jungkook, I’m so close, oh my god.”

The grunt that escapes him reverberates through you, nearly pushing you over the edge on its own, but he slows, setting a gentler pace as he shifts so his mouth can worship you from your breasts to your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys across your delicate skin.

You know the two of you will be marked by the end of the night, and right now, that’s all you want. You want to leave yourself etched into his skin, to reclaim your place not only in his heart but in every part of him.

In this moment, it’s like you’re finally whole—not just because Jungkook fills you completely, but because he completes you. He always has, and while you’ve both been damned by what happened before, it feels like redemption might be close.

“You’re…” Jungkook murmurs against your skin, his warm breath searing into you, though you need him to finish his sentence, need to hear it.

But as you cradle his head in your hands and he lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes are hooded, yet glistening, and your throat tightens at the sight too.

Face to face, you share the same breath, as if you share one heart, your small hands gripping his face as if you never want to let go, his hands cradling your small head with the tenderness that once meant everything. It’s as though you feel what he’s trying to say—but somehow, you don’t.

There’s still a wall between you, still something unsaid screaming in the silence that just can’t seem to go away, and you’re sure he feels it too. He feels it as your orgasm builds, feels it in the desperation of his own thrusts, in the matching, agonising, wordless ache in both your eyes, feels it when you both shatter together in a burst of all colours and stars in existence.

And then, all that’s left is pain.

He hasn’t kissed you, and you didn’t kiss him either.

And as he pulls his now-softening length from your still-pulsing cunt and reaches for a tissue from his trousers off the floor to help you clean up, he silently gets dressed.

Dresses as if he’s ashamed, dressed as if he regrets it, dressed as if you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

So you do the same, slipping into your clothes before lying back down, shifting as close to the wall as possible, facing away from him to give him some peace where none is found.

The tears falling silently onto the pillow should only be from the shivering that’s returned, a byproduct of the cold that momentarily disappeared but is now back as if you were never meant to feel warm again.

Finally, exhaustion sweeps over you. Physically. Mentally. And everything in between.

And as Jungkook lies down too, once more pulling you close and wrapping you in the warmth you crave more than you can bear to admit, your eyes fall shut almost effortlessly.

Maybe sleeping it all away will make it better, forgotten as a dream that never was.

Forgotten, like everything good that once was but now isn’t anymore.

Forgotten, like the tear you feel slide down the back of your neck, disappearing into the fabric of your shirt where all your sins and failures lie buried.

01 • 02 • masterlist • 04

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

taglist: @kookiewithluv , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @runariyaluvr, @blueofocean, @leah-rose03 , @httpjeonlicious , @futuristicenemychaos , @cryingoverpixelsetc , @variety-is-the-joy-of-life , @kawaiiisstuff , @delusionalsnack , @jaykay-world , @kookie-vuitton , @https-mei, @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @avawants2havefun , @kawaiiisstuff, @ancagab16 , @lovingkoalaface , @lachimolalajeon , @jkslvsnella , @asimuss7 , @elinaki92 , @minghaosimp, @whoa-jo , @jaytheatiny , @winterbeartaehyungbestboy, @xsyruhh, @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92 , @junecat18 , @remgeolli , @kooloveys , @nemelkawar

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for-those-who-wait · 3 days ago

Note

Hey I think I asked you about your Detroit become human au before a bit ago but I love the idea so much! I know you’re super busy but if you can I would love to see more about it!

Sorry for asking about it again I’m just really interested in it. 😭🙏

No please don't be sorry I love to talk about it whenever I'm not creatively bankrupt!! I'm just sorry it took so long for me to actually think of new stuff to add

I had some of these doodles already prepared but never really finished them up until I came up with a cute little idea

I didn't think of where to put in Flapjack until I remembered that android animals existed, and then I had a brain blast moment where I realized that Hunter can still talk to Flapjack! They are little android buddies, they can interface and talk and be friends!! I think it would also help to make him feel a bit more comfortable with his identity as an android to be able to have his little buddy to have fun private conversations with. Camila introduces them (maybe he had gotten hurt by a previous owner and she found him and let Gus fix him up) and Hunter is a bit tentative about it at first, but Flapjack is adorable and sweet and quickly wins him over

I just now had the idea that Gus, since he's super into android stuff, would probably be a big resource for software and hardware difficulties. Oh, you fell and your arm is working kinda wonky? Call up Gus, he'll crack you open and take a look. The dude doesn't mind in the least, he freaking LOVES going down mechanical and coding rabbit holes to better understand how androids work. I like to think that if Hunter ever got hurt and chose not to accept help because of body/species dysphoria, Gus would be a really good resource for him to try and feel as normal as possible while he's getting fixed. Gus is his brother and he loves him and they're just good to each other okay? Gus would probably crack some jokes or something to get Hunter's mind off it, or infodump about android organs or something (and Hunter would be begrudgingly interested because they are nerds, and Hunter is interested in androids too underneath all the problems he has with deviancy. Like dude they're robots, what's not to love?)

Also some Gus being so over Hunter's "androids can't feel love" phase featuring Vee and Masha being very adorable and very obviously in love :) Hunter is a very silly stupid man. He will find any way to make literally everyone exempt from the terrible rules Philip fed him, except for himself

I'm trying to think of a potential situation that would parallel Hunter's possession, and I think it would probably be basically the same thing that happens in Connor's deviant path (when he deviates and joins the revolution as an ally) where Amanda (a separate AI in his programming that's basically how CyberLife keeps him in check) takes over Connor's programming last minute to try and put a stop to the revolution.

So my current thought is that Philip is basically using Hunter as a trojan horse. His main programming is to act and believe like he's a normal human but similar to Connor, he's basically a sleeper agent without knowing. I imagine that once Hunter gains access to his software (thanks to Vee and Gus), he starts finding programs and files that are labeled as pretty scary things. He shouldn't have to know the most efficient way to shut an android down or incapacitate a human.

If and when Philip finally goes looking for Hunter and sees the first android he's seen in Gravesfield besides Hunter (aka Vee), he's not going to take that well.

I haven't drawn anything for it but so far I'm thinking that he takes control of Hunter's programming, maybe through some taking advantage of his interfacing system, and locks him in his own head a la Connor and Amanda to sic him after Vee and Flapjack (assuming that Philip's main goal, similar to both canons, is to eradicate deviants). It's likely that his friends will try to apprehend him, Vee or Gus will try (and maybe fail a couple times) to delete the programming while Camila deals with Philip. The guy is old and decrepit and Camila would absolutely whoop his ass with the ease of swatting a fly.

Things will be fine; Vee is all good and they manage to delete whatever programming screwed with Hunter's control, but that kid is going to be HELLA anxious about interfacing again from then on since he's afraid of 1) losing his own control and 2) potentially passing the virus onto someone else. It could go two ways at that point: Hunter could either kill Flapjack since Flapjack is technically a deviant android and therefore a target, or we can be nice and let Flapjack live to help him heal from this brand-new trauma.

So yeah hopefully that sates some curiosity! I'm glad you're interested in it because I honestly really love to think of new stuff whenever my brain decides to work hahaha

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larluce · 2 days ago

Text

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU (SERIES 2)

FIRST PART (SERIES 1) >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

Somehow, Arthur and Merlin end up lying in bed, making out. Things float around the room. Curiously enough, the vases with Merlin's flowers remain in their place.

Arthur: (on top of Merlin, pulls away a bit, looks around, suprised, and then looks back at Merlin)

Merlin: (embarrased and nervous) I didn't mean to! I'm sorry! (lowers the things to their places inmediatly) My magic is linked to my emotions and does that sometimes when my emotions are strong. I normally have good control of it! It hasn't done that in years, I swear!

Arthur: In years?

Merlin: Since I was a kid.

Arthur: (smiles smugly) So... you basically love me so much your magic makes things fly when we kiss?

Merlin: (scolds) Oh, don't go getting a big head! (but he can't help but smile too cause he's relieved Arthur is not freaking out about it) But yes. (blushes more)

Arthur: (mockingly) Now you are going to tell me the butterflies in Leon's chambers were also cause by your magic.

Merlin: ...

Arthur: (pretends to be surprised) They were?!

Merlin: (slaps his chest) Shut up!

Arthur: I'm the Prince, Merlin. You can't shut me up-

Merlin: (kisses him)

Arthur: (Kisses back)

Merlin: (rolls them so he is on top of Arthur and separates the kiss) You were saying? 😏

Arthur: Oh, you can shut me up all you want. (kisses him again)

Kissing Merlin is magic in all senses of the word. Like a breath of air after being underwater drowning, like drinking water after being walking for hours in a hot desert. Arthur never felt more alive, and he is sure of it because, for a long time, he has been dying.

When Merlin told him he loved him just before turning into a tree, he couldn't enjoy it properly. First he was dying, then he was too devasted about Merlin's fate to think in Merlin's last words. The following months the knowlegde of Merlin's feelings started to take place in his mind, but he was too focus on finding a way to fix Merlin's state while being dead inside to dwell on it. It was in the very second he realised he was in love with Merlin, has been for a very long time, that those words hunted him and his already eternal pain turned into agony. Because he realised he wasn't really dead inside. He was still dying, never stopped dying since that day. Constantly dying but never reaching death and that was worst than being dead inside.

So Arthur began picturing "could have been's", even if that only brought him more agony afterwards, it also gave him some sort of relief, hope. Kissing Merlin’s mouth with his own being one of the most recurrent imaginations. And, once he traveled back in time, it was all he could dream of. Every time he encounter Merlin, everytime they were close or Merlin smiled at him. He's been dying to hear his "I love you" again and to kiss those lips so, so much. None of his fantasies live up to this woderful reality.

He was dying and now he is alive.

Merlin: (between kisses, almost a whisper) Gods, I love you.

Arthur: (separates the kiss, breathless) Say it again.

Merlin: (still kind of dizzy from the kiss) Uhm?

Arthur: (almost a plead) Say it.

Merlin: Want to inflate your ego so much?

Arthur: Merlin!

Merlin:(softens his expression and smiles, caressing Arthur's face) I love you.

Arthur: (holding himself from crying cause he's finally able to enjoy, he's finally able to say it back) I love you too.

And they keep on kissing. Arthur puts himself on top of Merlin again and, despite his hunger for him, he's gentle and careful. Still wanting to be respectful, his hands touch and caress over the clothes. Merlin, however, is making that task quite difficult, spreading his legs and his hands exploring under Arthur's shirt. Arthur is barely aware of the things in his rooms flying around again and even some jars breaking at some point. The only thing in his mind is Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.

Leon: (shouting from outside) MY LORD!

Merlin and Arthur: (pull away from each other quickly and the things fall)

Leon: (enters, almost breaking the door down, sword in hand) My lord! Are you... (looks Merlin and Arthur on the bed in quite a state and then the state of the room that is basically a mess. Then turns around, embarrased) My-my apologies. I heard noises and though someone was attacking you, Sire. I-I'll come back later-

Merlin: (all red) No! It's fine. I was leaving. (gets off the bed)

Arthur: (gets off the bed too) Merlin, don't forget- (but when he stands up his trousers fall to the floor)

Merlin: (wide eye, brings his hands to his mouth)

Leon: ...

Arthur: (looks down and then looks at Merlin)

Merlin: (thinking, blushing more than ever) 😳 Oh, gods! Did I do that? When did I untie the laces? Or was it my magic? Nooo how embarrassing! 😫😱 (says with a strangled voice and trying very hard to keep a straight face) Don't forget what, my lord?

Arthur: (also blushing, as he puts his trousers back on) The list of chores I gave you before we...eh... before.

Merlin: (confused) What list- (remembers the list of suspects) Oh, right! (looks around the room and picks up the parchment) I'll see right to it, Sire. (leaves, passing Leon quickly)

Arthur: (to Leon) So... since you interrupted us, better make it worth it.

Leon: The king wants to know if you already have the list of suspects, Sire.

Arthur: I have it. Gather the men. We'll arrest them inmediatly. I just have to... (signals his disheveled self) put myself decent.

Leon: Uhmm... do you... (holding himself from laughing, but can't help but grin) want me to call Merlin for that Sire?

Arthur: Very funny. (orders) Out, Leon.

Leon: Yes, Sire. (bows and is about to leave, but turns to comment) Nice decoration, Sire. (leaves, closing the door behind him)

Arthur: (confused) Decoration? (looks around and notices Merlin's flowers have grown from the vases like vines covering the sufarce near them) This corny idiot. (but he is smiling as he says it)

Merlin manages to warn in advance some of the suspects with Lancelot's help, going house to house. But, as Arthur predicted, several still were arrested in the end.

Time skip. Uther, Arthur, Merlin and the knights in the throne room.

Uther: Have all the suspects been arrested?

Arthur: Most of them. A few have gone to ground.

Uther: Issue a proclamation. All the prisoners will be executed unless the perpetrator of this attack is found.

Merlin: (thinking, affected but not suprised) You wanted to kill them either way.

Arthur: (knowing this was coming, with resignation) I'll see to it, Sire. (thinking) Maybe I can make the suspects part of the sacrifice? That way their deaths won't be in vane. Gods, I don't want to. They are innocents, but I did everything I could to save them and helping them escape would be too suspicious.

Morgana: (enters suddenly, screaming desperate) NO! YOU CAN'T! (runs inside)

Arthur: (very surprised since Morgana hasn't left her chambers in days) Morgana?

Morgana: (to Uther) My lord, none of them are at fault of what happened! They didn't cause the fire!

Uther: We can't be sure of that, Morgana.

Morgana: I am! I am sure because it was me!

Arthur and Merlin: (pale, about to have a heart attack)

Uther: What?

Morgana: I caused the fire.

Arthur: (aproaches, putting himself between Morgana and his father) I think what Morgana is trying to say is that she believes she caused the fire by accident. Maybe lighting the candle at night too close to he curtain. Right, Morgana? (gives her an anxious "don't be stupid and play along with me. WTF do you think you are doing!" look)

Morgana: (ignores him) No, it was magic. I did it with magic.

Merlin: (thinking, in panic) I thought I was the only one who did this kind of madness!

Arthur: (holds Morgana by the shoulders) Morgana, I understand that you don't want these people to die and that you feel guilty. But you don't have to make up this nonsense. None of this is your fault.

Morgana: I'm not making anything up! (to Uther) My lord, you have to believe me I-

Arthur: (shouts, urgently) Merlin, take her out. NOW!

Merlin: (as he takes her out) I'll take you to your chambers, my lady. You still need to rest.

Morgana: (struggling) NO! I'M NOT LYING! I'M A- (but she's dragged out of the room)

Arthur: (to Uther, nervous) You surely don't believe she actually has magic, right father? Is clearly that she is overwhelmed and still very distressed. She never liked when you executed people.

Uther: (with an unreadable expression) Indeed, but she never went as far as to confess she has magic just to stop me.

Arthur: Well, is also the first time you threaten to execute these many people, Sire.

Uther: (with barely contained rage) I know exactly what is happening.

Arthur: (sweats)

Uther: She was enchanted!

Arthur: (sighs in relief)

Uther: Forget the proclamation. They ALL will be executed before sunset! (leaves)

Arthur: (thinking) Shit...

Meanwhile, Merlin dragging Morgana around the halls.

Morgana: Let go of me!

Merlin: Morgana, calm down.

Morgana: I won't calm down! These people are going to be killed because of me!

Merlin: Declaring yourself a sorceress won't save them!

Mogana: (shouts) I'M NOT LYING!

Merlin: (shouts back) I KNOW YOU ARE NOT LYING!

Silence. Morgana stops struggling.

Morgana: ... What?

Merlin: (more quietly) I know you are not lying.

Morgana: You...

Merlin: (puts a finger on his lips in a sign of silence and whispers) Can we go somewhere private?

Time skip. In Morgana's chambers.

Morgana: So... you knew? Since when?

Merlin: A while. Your dreams were my first sign. Those are visions that only seers can have.... And only people with magic can be seers.

Morgana: (hurt and angry) You knew all this time what was happening to me... and you didn't tell me?!

Merlin: I wanted to! But I didn't want to freak you out or to force you to accept something maybe you weren't ready to accept or share. I was waiting for you to tell me when you were ready.

Morgana: (sarcastic) Right. So then I would lower my guard and you could stab me in the back!

Merlin: (confused)...what?

Morgana: I saw you in my dream. Giving me poisoned water. (her eyes water but remains angry) I trusted you, you were my friend, and you poisoned me!

Silence. Merlin steps back, like he's been slapped in the face. First his eyes widen in shock, then his expression softens in understanding and, finally, hurt.

Merlin: You said "you were my friend"... Are we not friends now?

Morgana: A friend of mine would never do that to me!

Merlin: You are right and I haven't. And I won't.(thinking) Not in this life. Never in this life. Please, believe me.

Morgana: Then why did I dream that?!

Merlin: I don't know! But I would never hurt you! Morgana- (aproaches, trying to put a comforting hand on her shoulder)

Morgana: (steps back and yells) Stay away from me!

Merlin: (retreats his hand, his eyes watering) Oh... I see. I can't blame you.

Morgana: Blame me? For what?

Merlin: For believing in a vision of a possible future before believing in me.

Why would he? It's true he didn't inmediatly think illy of Morgana when Kilgharrah told him she would be evil and do harm, but he did stop himself from helping her directly because of that. He left her alone and then betrayed her because of his own fear which only led her to become what she became in the end. He is the last person that can judge her. Still, he can't help but sound sad and hurt. Not only because of her words, but because he wasn't prepare to lose her friendship again.

Has... has he lost her again?

No! He won't give up. He'll fight for her this time. Convince her he means no harm. That she can trust her. No matter how much it costs him.

But for now is clear Morgana doesn't want him near, so he'll repect that and let her be.

Morgana: (feeling bad at Merlin's words) Merlin...

Merlin: (blinks to stop the tears in his eyes and masters a polite smile) It's alright, my lady. I understand completely. My apologies for disturbing you. I won't come near you again unless you want me to. (bows and starts leaving)

Morgana: Wait! (stops him by the arm) I'm sorry. You are right. That was unfair of me. I can't hold you for something you haven't committed.

Merlin: I understand, my lady.

Morgana: Don't call me that! (to herself) Gods, now I understand Arthur. (to Merlin) Merlin, I still want to be your friend. I do believe you, I was just scared and I took it out on you. Please, forgive me.

Merlin: (thinking, relief and emotional) She confronted me about her vision and then apologized. She is so much better than I ever was (says, smiling) Of course.

Morgana: (hugs him) I'm so sorry. I was a terrible friend.

Merlin: (hugging her back) It's alright. Morgana, I wasn't lying when I said I understood. (pulls away) I'm also very scared that you dreamt that, even when I know I don't have any intention of poisoning you or harm you in any way. (thinking) It does worry me a lot. Why did she dream that?

Morgana: Maybe... someone will force you to do it?

Merlin: Maybe. But I don't want there to be the slightest possibility. So... I will give you the perfect weapon to defend yourself from me.

Morgana: (horrified at the idea) No! Merlin, there's no need. I believe you would never hurt me, I really do.

Merlin: I know. But the fear will always be there and if you dreamt it, we may as well do something to prevent it.

Morgana: I don't-

Merlin: Please, let me. If not for your sake, then for mine. Please.

Morgana: (sighs) Fine.

Merlin: (holds her hand an enchants) Blóstmá. (his eyes glow and a flower appears in her hand)

Morgana: (stunned) Wh... what? 😧

Merlin: I'm a sorcerer. A warlock really.

Morgana: What's the difference?

Merlin: Sorcerers have to learn spells and enchantments to master magic. I, on the other hand, didn't have to learn anything to be able to do magic. I just have it.

Morgana: (emotional) Like... me?

Merlin: (nods and smiles) That's the weapon I give you. Now a word of you is enough to kill me.

Morgana: You also know I'm a sorceress.

Merlin: You think Uther would believe the word of a servant over yours? He couldn't even believe yours when you told him.

Morgana: (facepalms herself at the memory) Ugh, I was so stupid!

Merlin: (laughs softly) I'm sure Uther didn't believe it. (turns serious again) But he would believe you if you told him about me.

Morgana: I would never turn you in.

Merlin: Just as I would never hurt you. But just in case, now you are safe.

Morgana: (watches the flower in her hand, her eyes watering) I always been taught that magic is evil, that it corrupts your soul.

Merlin: It is not! (picks up the flower) Magic is not evil, nor is good. It just is. (the flower floats in his hand, moving its petals like a butterfly) Is how you decide to use it that matters. And your magic is a gift, capable of wonderful things.

Morgana: I almost burned down my room.

Merlin: Because you were scared. With time you'll learn how to control it. (the flower floats back to Morgana's hand) I will teach you how to control it.

Morgana: (excited) You will?

Merlin: If you let me, of course.

Morgana: (tears of happiness roll down her eyes) I'd love to.

Merlin smiles. Morgana wouldn't be alone this time. He'll make sure of it.

Time skip. In Arthur's chambers, which is not a mess anymore, though the vines of flowers weren't removed.

Arthur: (in his desk, looking defeated)

Merlin: (enters suddenly) I know how to save them!

Arthur: (confused) Who?

Merlin: The suspects! (sits on Arthur's table infront of him) Uther wants to execute them because he can't find the responsible for the fire in Morgana's chambers, right?

Arthur: Yes.

Merlin: So we just have to take the person responsible to the King before sunset. There, problem solved.

Arthur: (sarcastic) Wow... what brilliant idea, Merlin! Why didn't it occurred to me before? Oh, right. Because there is no one responsable!

Merlin: True, because it was... eh... the thunder. But! What if we could make one up?

Arthur: (more confused)...what?

Merlin: Here me out. I know there is an informant in the castle. Probably a spy from Odin, because he was the one who let Myror get in the castle so he could kill you.

Arthur: (very surprised) Wha-How do you know that?

Merlin: Myror kind of let it slip before he tried to slit my throat.

Arthur: WHAT?! 😨

Merlin: (explains quickly) He entered my room and I defeated him using magic, that's why I didn't tell you. So the informant-

Arthur: (almost shouting) You can't tell me you were almost murdered and expect me to-

Merlin: Let it go, I know. We'll talk about my almost assesination attempt later, I promise. Now focus. I know who this informant is. He was the only one who seemed surprised when you woke up alive the next day. And guess who it is?

Arthur: Who?

Merlin: Bentley!

Arthur: (making memory and then his eyes widen with surprised) That's one of Morgana's guards!

Merlin: Which gives him direct access to her chambers.

Arthur: And you think he was behind the fire in Morgana's chambers too?

Merlin: No, but... he could be... easily blamed for it?

Arthur: ...

Merlin: (sighs) Look, I know this is dishonrable and vile. But you have to understand-

Arthur: I'll do it.

Merlin: (surprised) Really? 😧

Arthur: Being informant of Odin alone would be enough for my father to execute him. Adding him one more crime won't change that. He can take the blame.

Merlin: (still perplexed that Arthur agreed to this so easily, but decides not to dwell on it) Oh... Okay.

Arthur: So, do you have any proof? I'm guessing you've been investigating him for a while.

Merlin: (gets some letters out of his pocket) I got these from his room. (gives them to Arthur and he starts reading them) Supposedly they are from a distant relative and they don't say nothing incriminatory. But I know they are from Odin! They must be coded or something. But I haven't been able to decipher them.

Arthur: (thoughtfully as he analyses one letter) Uhm... The messages are very brief. (stretches the parchment) Yet he used a lot of parchment (points the candle in the table) Light the candle.

Merlin: (gets off the table and starts leaving)

Arthur: (stops him) Where are you going?

Merlin: I need the nips to light the candle.

Arthur: With your magic, Merlin!

Merlin: Oh, right! (blushes) Sorry, the habit. (his eyes glow and lights the candle)

Arthur: (puts the letter near the fire and finds the hidden message) It's invisible tint. (looks at Merlin triumphal, smiling) We have him.

So Bentley is bring before the king, accused of both helping in Arthur's assesination attempt and the attack on Morgana. The guard confesses to be informant of Odin but denies being behind the fire. Not even when Arthur shows the proof: fragments of a vase with a weird smell, which Merlin "found" when he helped cleaning Morgana's chambers the day of the attack, that turned out to be a part of incendiary chemical weapon known as Greek Fire. And both the invisible tint and the Greek Fire were greek technices. Gaius supports the theory and adds that the prolonged exposure to the smell of the chemical could have "effects on the brain" which was probably what made Morgana "delirious". Bently still denies being part of the attack, but the King has had enough. He is sentenced to beheading and, since magic was never behind the attack on Morgana, all the suspects are realeased.

Time skip. At night. In Arthur's chambers.

Merlin: (after he finishes changing Arthur's clothes) Thank you. I know it mustn't have been easy for you. Lie to your father like that and make that man take the blame, even if he was already a bad person.

Arthur: ...

Merlin: Arthur?

Arthur: (whispering, to himself) It was actually too easy.

Merlin: (not sure he heard correctly, frowns, confused) Uhm?

Arthur: (holds his hands) Merlin, I have to tell you something. It's nothing bad and it's going to sound crazy once you hear, but you've been honest with me, so I want to be honest with you too.

Merlin: Okay.

Arthur: I... I'm not... I'm from...

Merlin: (worried) What? Arthur, you are shaking. (puts a hand on Arthur's shoulder) Are you okay?

Arthur: (sighs) I'm afraid of sleeping.

Merlin: Oh... is this because of that nightmare?

Arthur: (nods, embarrased) I've been having them for a while. But lately, they are turning worse.

Merlin: What are they about?

Arthur: I... don't remember once I wake up, but the feeling stays there.

Merlin: (knows Arthur is probably lying, but he doesn't push it, respecting his privacy) I don't recall you having nightmares when we were in the farm.

Arthur: Because we slept in the same bed-well, floor there. (holds Merlin by the waist) Your presence always fly the nightmares away.

Merlin: (mocks) Awww, who is being cheesy now? (but blushes at Arthur closeness) Maybe I could... you know... sleep with you tonight.

Arthur: (opens his eyes wide and smirks)

Merlin: (slaps his shoulder) Just to sleep, you pervert!

Arthur: I didn't say anything!

Merlin: And it will be just for tonight. To scare the nightmares away.

Arthur: Of course. Just for tonight.

And from then on, Merlin will never sleep in his chambers ever again.

...

In with this "The Nightmare Begins" ends.

Hope you enjoyed it ^^

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @starrieisdelusional , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @curiously-lazy , @harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @bogslob , @braziiis , @rubinaitoart , @thebigoblin , @toomanyfanficsbruh , @farmboyprince , @nonsensefunsense

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #merthur #merlin prompt #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin and arthur #arthur and merlin #merthur fic #merthur fanfiction #merthur fanfic #merthur prompt #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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kyoteugly · 2 days ago

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If not Buddie, why Buddie shaped? #2

Following my theory that season 7 and 8 are new seasons 1 and 2 on abc, where the writers revisits the big events from character’s pasts and retells them (you can read it here) I want to look closer at new episode 8x06 “Confessions”.

This is all fresh in my mind, I watched the episode like 4h ago, there is a chance I’ll miss something.

Like I said, I think we’re going to see at least 4 more big moments revisited (or rather the emotional state those events invoked) from previous seasons before Buddie goes canon. Kitchen scene, well, will and shooting arc. And one of those happened in this episode! But also so many other things!

EDDIE:

Starting with Eddie in the confessional. I can’t help but see his fight club era here (call me bias, I love season 3 Eddie so much!). An attempt to find a healthy outlet to his emotions. He’s struggling and fighting with his inner demons, this time instead of rage it’s sadness and loneliness.

And he is doing it with an outsider's help. Father Brian is like Lena Bosko. Why Lena and not Frank? I think Eddie would just shut on therapy at this point. He needs someone to talk to, someone with opinions and advice, caring enough to want to help but also not afraid to go straight to the point and call his bs - Lena and Father Brian did just that.

Ok. Time to revisit a big event from Eddie’s past - the well. ABC put the call with the little boy trapped in a pipe in episode promo as the red herring. The real purpose of this call was to remind us about the Eddie Begins episode. The important thing from Eddie Begins is that Eddie was alone in the dark pit - and in the end he saved himself.

So the real connection between those two episodes is not in the call where 118 saves the little boy, but between Eddie coming out from underwater, drawing a deep breath and Eddie shaving a mustache, shedding his mask and dancing, breathing fully again.

sorry for the meme, I'm tired

It’s also interesting that the moment Eddie allowed himself to feel joy Buck knocked at his door.

BUCK:

This one is pretty straight forward. Like I said before, Tommy represents Abby - a transformative relationship - like Buck said himself. The fact that Tommy was engaged with Abby is a really beautiful way to further connect and close both relationships. What leads to the break up from Tommy’s side is also similar. Tommy knows he would fall deeply for Buck, and Abby didn’t come back because she knew she would lose herself in Buck. They were both protecting themselves.

And here is also a little parallel to Ali. Like her, Tommy offers Buck a proper and honest break up, showing maturity, understanding and clear reason why. And yes, Ali was also protecting herself, ending their relationship before they broke each other's hearts.

And one more thing from Buck’s side. The whole Abby thing throws him off. Maddie tells him it’s not a big thing, Josh tells him not to judge Tommy (honestly, Josh’s speech is amazing!) - this calms him down in the end, dating the same woman doesn’t feel awkward anymore. But the questions Josh is asking leave Buck confused. Taking the next step, moving in together - it’s like Buck is trying to prove he really feels those things Josh was talking about (or maybe even compensate for his “freak out”, confirm he’s fully into this relationship). And on some level Buck has those feelings, he cares about Tommy, but more than that, he simply feels he should be on the level Josh suggested and he wants this to work. It’s Buck’s impulsiveness coming to play, an action that causes reaction in a form of big gesture to confirm his feelings - a nod to his relationship with Taylor.

Fortunately Tommy explains those feelings to Buck (and to the audience) in a very kind way.

Honestly, their relationship (the last two episodes especially) was handled beautifully, without unnecessary drama, without too much spotlight. It started with fireworks, naturally progressed and faded gently.

The cherry on top: Evan meant something more, something special for Tommy. Ending his goodbye with Buck means “we’re friends now”.

BUDDIE:

There are two things here I want to mention.

Ever since Gerrard separated Buck and Eddie this is the episode where we can see them working together as partners again. And this finally wraps up the divorce era.

The ending scene represents different scenes for each of them, ending different arcs.

For Buck the couch scene represents Abby’s comeback in season 3. He watched her ride off in the ambulance with her fiance (with Eddie solid by his side), and later he got closure from her.

For Eddie this scene represents him being embraced by the 118 after he dug himself out from the well. He’s connected again, no longer alone.

And of course, the most obvious and sweetest thing - it’s the right couch (and they finally drink that beer).

Bonus MADNEY:

Couldn’t help but notice some revisits here. Maddie’s postpartum depression is addressed very clearly, nothing to add here. During the pandemic Chimney stayed at Buck’s place, afraid to put pregnant Maddie in danger of catching the virus. Something happened on a call that changed his mind, made him overcome his fear and enjoy the future with his family. The same in this episode. But there is a little twist here and it involves brothers. In season 7 the new audience learned about Kevin. Guess who wasn’t yet introduced (and also took care of Maddie during the pandemic)... yes, I believe this season we will see Albert again.

That’s it for now. Let me know if you want more posts like this. Feel free to contact me if you want some clarification or just to talk.

Tagging some people who may be interested (if you want me to remove you from this post let me know): @buddiebeginz @stagefoureddiediaz @lemotmo @inell

#if not buddie why buddie shaped?#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buck buckely #911 abc #my stuff #911 meta #911 spoilers #911 analysis #911 season 8

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islassour · 1 day ago

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good luck babe⋆｡°✩

(piper mclean x f!reader)

you stood next to piper while jason had his arm slung over her shoulder, sure he was a nice guy and piper 'loved' him but what about you? did she really forget all those nights you guys got together behind the stables? did she forget the little shows of affection she gave you? so what if she called it off, you knew you both felt the same way, but why couldn't piper just really accept she didn't love jason like she loved you?

why couldn't you stop thinking about it? you accepted she didn't want to meet up anymore, but the very feeling of her dragging crystals along you haunted you, the way she'd graze her hand against you softly whilst you were together and the way she made you laugh.

so you decided that maybe you really should try sort things out. you had to convince her that you still wanted her, she still loved you, you felt it in the bottom of your stomach when you were around her. she didn't love jason.

"pipe?.." you sighed softly as you leaned on the doorframe of cabin ten, the nervousness finally getting to you as you spoke.

the door handle rattled, you saw her emerge from the warm lighting of her cabin that radiated off her skin. "oh, uhm- hi." she greeted, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

"stop telling yourself that you like him. please." you stated bluntly, your eyes pleading with her to just listen to what you were saying.

"what?-" she tilted her head slightly.

"piper i love you." you stated once again, eyes stinging as tears welled up in your eyes. "you can't tell me that you don't feel the same because i know you do."

you saw the look on her face, she was shocked to say the least. you saw her cheeks burn on her tanned skin as her eyes began to grow glossy.

"i- i love jason." she grumbled, looking down slightly to avoid eye contact with you because she knew she would change her mind if she looked at you.

"no you don't, you know you don't." you shook your head, running a hand through your hair in annoyance. you knew when she was lying and this was one of them.

"we've had our moments, and now i am sure, that i love him and he loves me." she sighed, crossing her arms as she gained the courage to finally look up at you, hot tears streamed down her cheeks. "i'm sorry, its just the way i am." she stated before shutting the door in your face.

that same night she went to see jason, she stopped outside the door, it hit her like a double decker bus. she thought about you, and all of your little moments you never stopped thinking about. she did love you, you'd told her so, you had been for awhile even if it wasn't verbally. but what could she do now? maybe you accepted the fact that she'd told you she didn't love you, so how could she just go over and tell you that you really were right? its still not too late, right?

you heard the knock on your door, mascara streaks down your face, sniffling as you walked over to the door.

"i think i do love you." she stated breathily almost as soon as the door opened, looking into your eyes with so much regret but so much love at the same time.

you both stood there for a couple seconds, both of you in complete and utter shock. you stared into her eyes before you began to cry again.

"i love you too." you smiled warmly as you cried, moving closer towards her as your hands shifted to the back of her neck as your lips planted a soft kiss on hers. she returned it as her hands rested on both sides of your waist, you both pulled away with your heads resting on one another.

"i told you so."

#pjo hoo toa #pjo #percy jackson #pjo x reader #pjo fanart #percy jackson x you #piper mclean #jason grace #jason grace x reader #luke castellan x reader #leo valdez #percy jackson x reader #wlw #piper mclean x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series

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theitgirlnetwork · 3 days ago

Text

What Are You Willing To Do?

Ch. 1 : Self-Restraint (Rafe has none)

Milan's Party Outfit

Note: Okay this took forever to come out and I'm sorry. Please let me know what you think. Also something to note, I have an OC who is the main love interest in my JJ story. She is present in this story, but the two stories don't intertwine. Just something for those of you who will read both. I hope you enjoy and I love interacting. I will accept (constructive) criticism. And feedback. Another note, Milan is a little more of a bimbo character than my other ones, she won't be fully lost and I refuse to make her childlike. She just likes to be in the wind and chose a man who handles stuff for her. Also she doesn't have a permanent face claim yet, so if you have any ideas for that, please message them to me! :) Thank you for giving my story a chance, and if you're reading any of my other stories, I hope to be posting more to have some reprieve from the state of the world. Thanks so much!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual conduct, strong language, drug use

“Let’s go, I don’t know why I have to wait for you, we’ve got things to handle today, you’re makin’ me late-”

“Yeah, Dad-” Rafe huffs, jogging his way down the steps, grabbing his jacket off of the coat rack in the foyer. “Well, Sara has been in my shit again so, maybe you could talk to her about that-”

“I don’t touch your shit, no one wants your shit, Rafe.”

“I can tell, you probably brought your bum ass pogue boyfriend in here too, he shouldn’t be in the damn house-”

“Rafe!” Ward’s voice booms, making Rafe’s eyes snap to his father’s obediently, mouth snapping shut. “Do you really think that it's productive for you to waste time arguing with your little sister when I just told you we need to get a move on?”

“Uh,” the younger man breathes heavily through his nose, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides as he glares at his sister over his father’s shoulder. “No, sir.”

“Alright then.” Ward rolls his eyes, nodding his head for his son to grab the bag on the ground and grab the car keys before turning to address his eldest daughter. “Need you to be home for dinner tonight. There’s a new family moving in a couple blocks over and we wanna make a good impression. That means no fighting,” the older man raises his eyebrows at his children, placing his bluetooth in his ear, “no boyfriends, Sarah,” Ward finishes with a rough pat on his son’s back, “no drugs. Get it? This could be big, Gregory Cabot is big in the oil industry and they might want to…settle here. If they do, we should be their first friends, understand?”

Rafe nods quietly, attentively hanging onto his father’s every word. Taking them in with an intensity that would satisfy any other dad. But not Ward Cameron. “Sarah, they’ve got twins about your age. Make sure you and Wheezie are cleaned up nicely. Rafe,” the 21 year old is met with his father’s rough hand smacking his cheek once, twice, under the guise of an affectionate pat. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“It’s like he uh, doesn’t get it, right? Like I do fuckin’ everything he asks, and I’m uh…I’m the fuck up.” Rafe stammers irritably before sending a powerful swing into the golf ball in front of him, watching it sail off into the distance.

Topper and Kelce exchange looks as their friend grinds his teeth, grabbing a beer from their cart and taking a deep swig. He’d been ranting about this morning since they’d started on the course an hour ago. Apparently, his father’s comment had carried in Rafe’s mind all of the way through the brief errand down at the docks he’d accompanied him on, followed him to the country club and was going to last the entirety of their hang out.

“Yeah man, I mean,” Topper begins, “I get it right? My mom’s always on some shit too. Like I screw up everything I do.”

“You do, Top.” Kelce chuckles, lining up for his swing.

Rafe nods along, taking another swig. “For real, like realistically, I do everything I’m supposed to, like I really step up and it’s fuckin’ bullshit that I’m still supposed to act like I’m his little bitch boy. I’m fully a man. I’m focused and shit. Because for real, Top, I feel like if Sarah asked you to come over right now you’d go runnin’ right?”

“Fuck you man.”

“Motherfucker knows I’m right.”

“Kelce?”

“I mean, Top, let’s be real.”

Topper rolls his tongue in his cheek irritably, turning red at his friend’s taunting, “Well, y’all are the ones who lost a girl to Maybank. Angel is glued to his broke ass.”

Rafe scoffs, picking his club back up and practicing his swing. “Yeah, fuck that, that was Kelce’s thing. Angel’s bad, but she’s more like the sister I wish Sarah’s annoying ass was.”

“Sarah’s just like, young minded, she doesn’t know what she wants.”

Kelce laughs again as Rafe rolls his eyes, the two men switching spots as Rafe goes up for his turn again. “She knows, it’s just not you, man. Maybe that pogue just has better dick than you, Top…or did she ever let you fuck her?” Kelce laughs, turning his head to look up the hill at the juice bar at the edge of the course, squinting at something in the distance.

“Fuckin’ disgustin’.” Rafe huffs, swinging again, smirking as the ball goes directly into the hole, resting the club on his broad shoulder. “If you bitches weren’t so worried about chasing ass, maybe your game would be better.” The dirty blond brags, turning to see both of his friends now staring off into the distance. His jaw ticks in annoyance as he realizes that his friends had missed his impressive swing and ignored his bragging to stare at… “what the hell are you idiots looking at?”

When they don’t answer, Rafe decides to look for himself. The sight he sees is simultaneously exactly what he’s expecting and something he couldn’t have seen coming.

Standing at the juice bar was possibly the sexiest little thing he’s seen in his 21 years of living. Sure, he’d expected to see a pretty girl. That’s just about the only thing that can get both Topper and Kelce to shut the fuck up for more than two seconds. Their eyes wide and mouths slightly agape, the two men didn’t hide their attraction at all.

But Rafe, he was experiencing something else entirely. He’d thought she was fucking hot like they did, obviously. But this was a different kind of fine. She had to be new. There was no way that she would have evaded him by now. His cheek dimples slightly as he absently bites his lip a bit, watching the girl lean over the counter, her feet lifting slightly off of the ground, her tiny white skirt giving him a shot of the smooth skin that he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. Rafe’s eyes follow her every movement, like a predator stalking its prey. Intense blue drinking in the dark, shiny, barely shoulder length hair falls out from her hat as she lifts it from her head, smoothing her hand over it before placing her hat back on.

Come on, baby, turn around for me. Lemme see the rest of that body. Lemme see that face.

It’s as if she could hear him. Like she decided to move, position herself, just for his enjoyment, because she turns. She turns and pulls herself up onto one of the barstools with a hop, pulling her shades from her face and tucking them onto the front of her shirt. She’s far, but even with the distance, Rafe finds himself puffing out a breath of disbelief, drinking in her gorgeous features. Full, glossy lips, tinged red, big eyes and a sweet, absent expression.

Next thing Rafe knows he’s making his way up the grassy hill, ignoring the calls of his friends for him to wait up.

“But, my parents are signing up for membership today.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but until you’re in the system you’ll have to pay with cash or card.”

Milan pouts and furrows her brows. She just wanted to have a quick refresher before she met up with her mother at the new house so she’d ridden over to the club with her father. She didn’t really think she’d need money. She never carries cash because she’s likely to lose it and she’d left her card in her red purse, but it didn’t match her outfit so she’d sent it ahead to the house. She could go ask her father for money, but he was in the club owner’s office talking shop and had instructed her to explore while he finished up. “But it’s hot out here.” she whines.

Milan turns to her right and starts scanning the outdoor bar area, looking for someone who looked friendly enough to spot her until her dad came down and paid them back. She drums her manicured nails on the wood of the countertop, ignorant to the bartender rolling her eyes at the girl.

Finally, her eye lands on a table with three guys that look fresh off of the golf course. They’re all dressed similarly and just like every other guy at the club. Polo shirt and khaki pants. Two of them wore hats. They looked like her friends from back home. But the third one, he’s the one who gives her pause. As soon as her eyes land on him his shoot over, locking on hers. She straightens her posture a bit under his gaze, offering a polite smile before doing what most normal people do when accidentally making eye contact with someone, looking away. Her bob length hair brushes her shoulder as she turns her head away, but she can’t help but feel someone was still watching her. She decides to turn her head back slowly, trying to be inconspicuous, only to find she’s right. The guy is still watching.

He wets his lip as he tilts his head. His eyes still trained on her as he uncrossed his muscular arms. A small, what seems to be a smile, rests on his lips as he drums his hands on the arms of the chair he’s sitting in, pushing out of the seat and making his way over. One of his friends making a comment about something being ‘fuckin’ unfair’.

Milan fully straightens, tucking her hands under her butt and whirling around to face the bar again as if she hadn’t just been staring back at him. She kicks her feet until she feels a presence behind her? Beside her?

She turns her head and looks up to find the same guy, caging her in, standing slightly behind her with one hand resting on the bar at her side, the other grabbing the bottom of her stool and turning her to face him fully.

Seeing him up close she can see how cute he is. Pretty blue eyes, clear skin and pink lips. His jawline is sharp, his seemingly blond hair is buzzed short to his head, and a dimple is revealed in his cheek with his smug grin. He’s big too. Tall and muscular, his presence is all imposing, crowding her against the bar and giving her no choice but to accommodate him in her bubble. “Hey.” he says softly, his voice still a deep rumble.

Milan finds herself mimicking his position, tilting her head to match his, placing her elbows behind her to rest on the bar leaning the same way he was. Missing his eyes dropping briefly to wear the fabric of her shirt strained against her breasts. “Hi.”

“So, you uh, you want a drink or somethin’?” he asks lowly.

“Um..” she shrugs sheepishly, lifting her shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “I dunno.”

She does. That’s what she’s been trying to do for the last few minutes, but that was before the cute guy was towering over her, taking up her space. He furrows his brow for a second, a smile still on his face as he pushes up a little, whistling into the air, nodding his head for the bartender to come over.

The woman sees the man and immediately sweeps her hand over her hair, smoothing it out and prancing over. “Yeah, yes, hi Mr. Cameron.” She twirls the end of her ponytail, offering him a wide grin. “What can I get for you?”

“Yeah, Erica, get me and the boys some beers and, uh,” the man raises his eyebrows at Milan.

“Oh, Milan.” she smiles up at him prettily before looking back at a very annoyed Erica. “Can I have a peach refresher? Please?”

“She doesn’t have a membership account yet-” Erica starts only to pause when she realizes that the blond hadn’t glanced in her direction since calling her over.

“Then put her shit on mine. Want anything else, sweetheart?” he asks, a heavy hand resting on Milan’s lower back.

“No, I think I’m okay.” she hums, lifting her chin as the bartender rolls her eyes and strolls away. “Thank you, by the way, for covering me. My father will pay you back when he’s done with his meeting.”

The mention of her father has the man recoiling a little, retreating his hand from her with his smile dropping slightly. “Don’t uh, worry about it, aight? So, Milan, how, uh, how old are you anyway?”

Milan works an even wider eyed look on her face, perching herself on the edge of the stool and swinging her legs. “15, how old are you, Mr. Cameron?”

His eyes widen and he takes a large step back, smoothing his and over his jaw, looking away briefly before looking back at her. “No shit? I uh…I’m-”

“Cute.” Milan giggles, hitting his arm lightly, pulling back when she feels the muscles that are barely concealed by the stereotypical polo that he’s wearing. “‘M 20, Mr. Cameron.”

“Rafe.” he says firmly. Milan straightens again when she feels his imposing presence once again, the heavy hand back at her back, spreading warmth up her spine.

“Rafe.” she repeats.

“Good.” Rafe praises. Milan shifts in her seat at his approval, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion at the feeling she gets from the praise. “You, uh, new around here, or…”

“Yeah, I’m new, just settling in.”

“Right, yeah, and uh…your family just left you all alone, that doesn’t seem fair.” He offers her a small pout that Milan fails to recognize as patronizing. “Wanna join me and the boys?”

“Sur-”

The sound of a glass slamming down on the bartop startles the girl, the splashing of her drink leading her to scoot back, bumping into Rafe’s hard chest. “Three beers and a refresher.” Erica sneers. Milan checks her outfit for juice stains while Rafe tosses a tip onto the bar, an unimpressed look on his face.

“That shit’s not cute.”

Both girls whip their heads to look up at him, a hard look of disapproval has Erica huffing and storming away after snatching the tip from the counter. As quickly as it appeared, the look is gone when Rafe refocuses his attention on the girl directly in front of him.

Milan finds herself smiling again as the man mumbles a short, ‘you’re good’ under his breath as he scans her clothes for any evidence of a spill. Just as she’s going to agree to join them she receives a text from her father. Time to go. “I’d love to, but my father is ready to leave, it’s been a long day for him, I don’t wanna keep him waiting.”

“Nah, we wouldn’t want that.” Rafe offers Milan a hand, helping her hop down from the stool and passing her the drink. “Go on, sweetheart. I’ll see you around.”

As Milan walks away perkily all she can think about is the cute guy she met at the country club. Turning back once to wave her fingers at him and being met with a crooked smile and a nod of the head she flounces off to find her dad.

And sharp blue eyes follow her skirt the whole way.

The muscle working in Rafe’s jaw is doing overtime as he cocks his head to the side, staring blankly at the wall trying to temper the rage boiling in his stomach as Ward carries on screaming in his face.

Apparently if he didn’t have anything better to be doing, he should have been shadowing his father today instead of golfing.

Apparently he was a dickhead for even thinking he’d be sitting at one of the seats at the end of the table because that’s where the head of the house sits and he doesn’t run shit but his mouth.

Apparently he was a poor excuse of a man for not knowing why Sarah was late and Wheezie’s dress wasn’t perfectly ironed, because how the women in the house look and act is a reflection of him and more importantly, Ward.

So Rafe stood there. And he ate that shit. Nodded quietly, eyes squinted, internalizing every slight, every insult, and making note.

He counted every book on the bookshelf in his father’s office until he felt his jaw being gripped and forced over to face Ward. Then, he started counting the wrinkles on his face.

The verbal lashing didn’t end until Sarah came barreling in, her straps to her dress barely on and her hair combed for fucking once since getting with that fuckin’ bum. But Ward softens. He redirects his attention to tell his daughter she’s beautiful and thank her for coming. And then he points a warning finger in Rafe’s face before storming out of the room.

“Where the hell were you?” he asks his sister through gritted teeth.

Sarah rolls her eyes, pushing past him. “Don’t have to answer to you, Rafe.”

It takes everything in him not to put his fist through a wall.

So, yeah, one could say he’s a little on edge. Sitting on his father’s right because the guest of honor, Mr. Cabot deserves the seat on the left, that’s where food gets served first. Rose sat on the opposite end, where the second host sits which will also place her closest to where Mrs. Cabot will likely be. Ward is at the head because where the fuck else would he be? And Rafe is in the seat on the right. The seat where the food will get served last. The seat where the youngest in the family is supposed to fuckin’ sit which anyone who has any kind of knowledge of etiquette would know. Which Rafe knows because he’s proactive and he fuckin’ learned it. Because he knows every aspect of running a household, not that Ward would acknowledge it.

He needs a fuckin’ bump.

Or a blunt.

What the fuck ever the wine ain’t cuttin’ it.

But Ward is watching him like a hawk and clearly won’t tolerate him disappearing to find some peace no matter how brief and slick he is about it.

So instead, Rafe’s leg jumps under the table. And his fingers drum on top of it. And he works his jaw irritably.

“You need a nicotine patch or something?” Wheezie asks, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“C-could you actually shut the fuck up for one second?”

“You’re such a jerk, Rafe, she’s a kid, Jesus.” Sarah huffs. “When’s this family supposed to be coming anyway?”

“Asking that repetitively is not going to make them get here faster.” Rose groans, rubbing her temples. “Honey-”

“They’re here,” Ward calls, retreating from the door, snapping his fingers and pointing toward the sitting room for Rafe to get four scotches ready, and sitting in the seat in the corner of the room. “Ladies?”

“We’re going.” Wheezie whines, following behind Rose into the kitchen and carrying in the dinner that they were pretending Rose and Sarah made as Sarah goes to the foyer to wait for the bell to ring. “But this little routine we have is really sexist.”

“Don’t screw this up.” Ward sneers under his breath, as he takes his glass from Rafe.

“Dad-”

The ring of the doorbell has everyone falling into their roles. It all starts without a hitch. Sarah pulls the door open with a bright smile and sickeningly sweet greeting. Rafe tries to tune in to the fake conversation his father started with him when they heard the footsteps in their home multiply.

“Oh! I’m a mess, nice to meet you, I’m Rose, please come in. Sweetheart, why don’t you go with Sarah and Louisa while I show your father to the sitting room. Then us girls can really get to know each other.” Rose plays her part easily, her heels clacking against the floor, the sound getting closer as she chatters away to what should only be the couple and their son now that she’s dumped the girl off with Sarah. “Your daughter is just beautiful, really, you’re going to have to watch her on this island.”

She says that to everyone. 9/10 it's a lie.

“Your daughters are gorgeous too. You must have your hands full.”

Sounds like Mrs. Cabot knows the game too, usually people don’t get a word in while Rose is running her lines.

“We keep our eyes peeled, but our girls just aren’t doing the dating scene yet.” No, Sarah’s too busy laying on her back for dirty pogues to date someone worth mentioning. A little money doesn’t change status. “Ward, darling, our guests are here.”

And that’s our cue.

Like they’ve done many times before the two men stand, Rafe watches his father’s movements carefully, making sure to always stand tall, and one step behind him. Ward takes 2 steps, Rafe takes 1.

The man entering the room behind Rose was tall. Only a little shorter than Rafe. Broad and appearing stern. He guides his wife in by her waist and Rafe quickly looks away from the older woman. She’s attractive, and if it was him, the last thing Rafe would want is his potential business partner’s son eyeing down his wife. The man holds out his large hand to Ward first, the two of them shaking firmly. “Gregory Cabot.”

“Ward Cameron, good to meet you.” Ward gestures behind him for Rafe to enter stage left. “And this is my son…”

“Rafe, uh Rafe Cameron, nice to meet you, sir. Ma’am.” he says, shaking Gregory’s hand and squeezing the appropriate amount. A craft he’d perfected during the early days of doing these.

“Good shake son.”

The comment has Rafe standing at his full height, biting back an accomplished smirk as his dad glances back at him with a look of approval.

“Handsome young man, too.” the older woman hums.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Rafe offers her a polite smile to appease his father.

It’s all a part of the game. This little back and forth. It breaks the ice, and Rafe is the sacrificial lamb for it everytime. Gregory would say:

“Don’t be tryin’ to seal my wife there, boy.”

Pause for laughter.

Then Rafe would say something like, “if I was a couple years older I might give you some competition, sir.”

To which everyone would laugh and Ward would swat him with strength that varies depending on how the interaction goes.

Rafe has this little dance down to a science.

It was going well. Really, it was exactly how it should be, and going quickly too. Rafe was desperate to get this part over with so they could handle business, make some money, and he could celebrate by going to a party he’d heard about earlier.

But then she came in. And suddenly this was something entirely new.

“Dad, I’m gonna go to a party with Sarah after dinner. Can I have some money?”

There she is. Her shapely body draped in a silky green dress with pretty pink roses, her manicured fingers already outstretched toward her father. Glossed, rose petal lips pursed as she waits for the bills to be placed in her hand.

Milan. Rafe forces his eyes away from her, feeling two warring feelings flood his body as he wills himself to keep his eyes on her father instead.

“Without Milo?” Gregory asks.

Milan rolls her eyes to the ceiling, huffing and crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts upward and causing Rafe to work his jaw lightly. “‘M grown, Dad.”

Ward would never tolerate that tone…neither would I.

“We’re in a new place, your brother’s away on business-” Rafe can immediately feel his father’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head.

Milan’s eyes slide shut as she takes a deep breath, retracting fully and turning to leave the room. She was so caught up she didn’t even notice Rafe. It aggravated him. Spoiled. She’s spoiled.

I can fix that.

Eventually they get dinner started and it’s like the interaction hadn’t happened. Milan sat through the dinner and acted her role accordingly. She introduced herself to his father, which clearly had impressed Ward. She made her obligatory conversation points, but mostly chatted with the other women at the table. When Rafe pulled out her chair, she smiled at him prettily but aside from that, gave him no indication that she recognized him from earlier.

Rafe tries to focus on talking shop with his dad and Gregory, but his eyes keep wandering back to Milan’s mouth on her spoon and the little hums that leave her mouth.

The damn ice cream ain’t that fuckin’ good.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve been trackin’ the macro model for crude oil and uh, I, I’d wanna know more.”

“That’s great son, yeah, it takes time, but it seems like you're on track, maybe I could put you in contact with one of my buddies that does the numbers for me, then you can run them with your dad and I.”

Rafe’s on fuckin’ fire. He’s killin’ this shit, and he’ll be deep in those Cabot pockets in no time. But all he could think about is the man’s pretty little princess perched on her chair a couple seats down, pouting as Sarah raves about how fun this party is going to be to Milan and Wheezie.

None of my fuckin’ business.

“Sounds really cool, Sarah.” the girl smiles behind the metal spoon, sighing wistfully.

Don’t do this shit man, Ward’s gonna kill you.

Her final sigh and last scoop of vanilla ice cream being spooned into her mouth through plump glossy lips is what does it.

Fuckin’ weak, Cameron. Over some pussy?

“Uh, Gregory, I’m goin’ to this party too. I’m takin’ Sarah, there’s no reason why I can’t keep an eye out for Milan too.”

If looks could fuckin’ kill.

Ward is staring Rafe down with a look that would have a weaker man retracting his offer immediately, but the bright smile that plastered across Milan’s face made Rafe stand his ground.

Gregory is simply pensive. His eyes flick between his daughter and the Cameron siblings. “How old did you say you were again?”

“21, sir.”

Gregory’s brows furrow as he looks Rafe over again, before turning to Ward. “Reminds me of my boy. Protective over his sister and her friends. Good stuff, Cameron.” He turns back to Rafe with a menacing look on his face. “Back like I sent her, Rafe.”

“Of course, Gregory.”

The older man couldn’t have known what he just allowed.

“Fuck, Sarah, how long does it take?”

“I didn’t even want to ride with you, Rafe, John B. could’ve picked up me and Milan-”

“Yeah, well, her dad put me in charge of her safety, Sarah, and actually, Dad put me in charge of yours, so-”

“Oh my God, don’t act like…like you’re doing some noble thing, okay? I know why you offered to take us, cause you leave me all the time-”

“You don’t know shit, alright, Sarah?” Rafe groans, backing out of his spot and turning out of their street.

“I know plenty, and I know you’re tryin’ to fuck Milan.”

“So what?”

“So what?” Sarah tosses her hair angrily, shifting in the passenger seat. “So, you’re fucking nuts, and she’s actually a nice girl. So, Dad’s doing business with her dad, that’s so what, Rafe.”

“I like, genuinely don’t need you telling me shit about shit Sarah, like for real.”

“I really hope her brother is fucking huge, so he can kick your ass.”

Rafe snorts, slowing the car down a little and turning down the music as he pulls into the Cabot’s neighborhood. “Yeah, maybe right? Cause God knows your little pogue bitches have tried and failed.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, love you too, sis.” Rafe looks at the large house found at the address that Gregory had given him and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Get in the back seat.”

“Are you serious-”

“Back seat, Sarah, Jesus!” He huffs, slamming the car door and making his way up the walkway, stopping on the freshly laid cobblestone when the heavy, double wooden doors swing open.

“Bye, Dad, I’ll see you later!”

If Rafe had thought the dress Milan had on earlier was something, this skimpy number she trots out in would test any man. The girl absently twirls in her outfit. It’s a white two piece set consisting of a long, see-through skirt, barely hiding her white bikini bottoms and matching cropped top. His eyes trail along the dips in her waist, catching on the dimples on her back before finding the matching ones on her cheeks. All he could think is how perfectly his thumbs would fit in both sets of dimples. “Hi, Rafe.”

He tilts his head back, openly staring down at her appreciatively. “Don’t you look cute.”

With the shy smile that overtakes her face he all but expects the girl to melt under his gaze. Rafe is pleasantly surprised when she lifts her shoulder before brushing past him to make her way toward the car. “Thank you, I know.”

He chuckles to himself as the heels of her sandals clack on the cobblestone and stop just before the passenger door. Milan purses her lips without even considering touching the handle, rocking on her feet and swinging her purse absently as she waits patiently for him to come open it, just smiling when Sarah calls from inside the vehicle, ‘it’s unlocked.’

Rafe doesn’t know what moves him. Normally, he left girls to hoist themselves into his car as he hopped in himself on the driver’s side. But he could tell, this girl didn’t even conceive that she should be the one to open the door. No, she expected him to help. To care of it. And used her pretty little grin as his payment once he gets the picture and pulls the door open and offers her his hand to settle her into the seat. “You uh, you comfortable?”

She’d already pulled down the mirror and was reapplying the lipgloss Rafe was determined to taste, humming absently to herself. “Hm? Oh, yeah.”

Not a thought behind those pretty eyes, huh?

I like that.

Milan watches out of the window as they pass by trees and grassy nooks. String lights twinkling as they ride by, people selling produce on the side of the road. The salty smell of water in the air through the open window. She could see Sarah in the backseat, smiling to herself as she texted on her phone. Milan’s own phone lights up as she receives the girl’s message. The two of them had really gotten along when they met at dinner earlier. She wasn’t expecting the blonde girl to be so kind and welcoming. The entire family had been really kind. Wheezie was a cute kid and Rose seemed like every other tired housewife in their world. A little fake, but ultimately harmless. Ward seemed strict like her dad. He seemed to grit his teeth angrily at almost everything his family said, only to offer a wide smile when her own dad seemed pleased, or at the least unbothered.

And Rafe. Rafe was…cute. Hot, he’s hot. He’s handsome and tall, and can talk to her dad about all that business shit she didn’t give a shit to try and understand. And he’s attracted to her. Milan can tell. His eyes were shooting between their fathers and her the whole dinner. She felt the intensity of them even as she reapplied her lip gloss, as she chatted with his sister, when she’d taken a selfie as she leaned against the headrest, posing both for the camera and him.

But for some reason he’s wound so tight. As hot as it is, it can’t be healthy how frequently that muscle in his jaw jumps, keeping in rhythm with the bounce of his leg and the drumming on his fingers. Milan’s eyes flick across his movements and her lips part as she considers asking him if he was okay. Her voice catches in her throat when sharp, blue lands on deep brown and his brows raise as if he were asking a sarcastic ‘yes?’ When she shrugs lightly, smiling in return, he sends her a smirk before turning his gaze back to the road, peeling off at the light and turning up the music playing on the speaker to drown out his sister’s chatting.

Milan blinks at the heat she feels on her face and refocuses on her phone, opening her messages from Sarah.

Sorry about my brother. He’s a dick. When we get to the party you can hang with me. :)

The party was apparently at some house on the beach. Young adults were filling the walls of the building, spilling out onto the sand and grass. The music booms in the night air, and the smells of salt and weed fills their lungs.

Sarah pulls Milan along, their arms looped together as she guides her away from Rafe as quickly as possible. The man is clearly disinterested in following, offering Milan a brush on the shoulder before stalking off toward the back of the house, calls of his name in greeting following his arrival.

“Oh okay, yeah, my friends are in the kitchen, c’mon.” Sarah tugs her the rest of the way, leading Milan to the dark kitchen over to a crowd of people. She recognizes one of the guys as the guy on Sarah’s phone. John B. she said his name was. Apparently, normally, Sarah stays with him at his house but Ward had asked her to come around today to meet with Milan’s family, and she did it because they were trying to ‘rebuild their family’. “Hi.”

John B. turns to her immediately, a grin spreading on his face as he pulls Sarah to him, effectively separating her and Milan. “Hi, baby.”

His loud blond friend with his arms draped around a pretty girl with brown skin peaks his head out from behind them, pausing mid story, and drunkenly causing his girl to stumble with him. The girl follows his gaze and offers her a kind smile, pushing the blond by his face, laughing at whatever he’s mumbling in her ear. “Hi,” she calls over the music. “I’m Angel. This drunk dumbass is JJ.” She huffs, as he gives Milan a wide grin and nod before guiding Angel’s face back to his.

The tall guy next to him is flanked by a shorter light skinned girl and a girl pouring shots, laughing with Sarah, calling her a lightweight with a thick accent. “Cleo. You want one?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a shot.” Milan shrugs. Her eyes squeeze shut as the liquid slides down her throat, burning it and her mouth. She shakes her head, before letting the warm feeling spread in her belly. A hand on her elbow grabs her attention and has her looking over her shoulder.

“Come dance with me.”

It’s some random guy, already tugging her toward the crowd of moving bodies, not waiting for her reply. “Oh, no thanks.” Milan plants her feet, stumbling a little against his pulling.

“C’mon, you don’t like to dance?”

“No, I just don’t want to dance with you.” Milan chirps, glancing down at her nails to make sure he hadn’t made her accidentally knock a gem off. She watches as the guy’s face shifts from shock to a deep frown. He roughly releases her arm and storms off. She takes a couple steps back to where Sarah and her group are standing, seeing all of the couples wrapped into each other. The light skinned girl reaches her hand across the island counter to get her attention.

“You good? I was about to make my way over. The guys on this island are entitled assholes.”

“Yeah, that’s guys everywhere. It’s never the cute ones that come to you, huh?”

“Nah, it’s generally the creeps and losers who feel bold.” The girl laughs. “I’m Kie, Kiara.”

“Milan. Do you feel like dancing?”

Kiara shrugs, mumbling a ‘why not’ glancing back at her own friends before taking Milan’s hand and leading her toward the sea of people dancing. Milan twirls Kie as they step onto the makeshift dance floor smiling as they begin dancing together. The two girls take turns spinning each other, holding each other’s hips and guiding their dance. Milan can feel several pairs of eyes on them as they rock against each other, the base of the drum in her ears and chest. But her eyes only searched for one set in particular. She allows Kiara to turn her and flips her hair out of her face. And then they are. Steely blue.

Rafe blows smoke from his nose before licking his thumb, flicking through the stack of cash Kelce had just shoved into his hand. “Aight.” He nods, reaching his jacket pocket and producing a small bag of coke. He’d been giving Sarah and Milan space. For one, because he genuinely does not give a fuck what his hoe ass sister does. If she doesn’t give a fuck about the Cameron name then she could take that dirty pogue’s. On Milan’s end, Rafe was exercising self-restraint. He knows that now that they’re away from their families it wouldn’t take long for him to crack. She’d looked fucking gorgeous earlier that day, and even more so at dinner. Now that they were at a party, and he could take a fuckin’ second to breathe outside of Ward’s scrutiny…he’d break eventually. He was relying Sarah to keep her busy and away from him so he didn’t end up fucking her and fucking up the deal their fathers were trying to work out.

“What the fuck? That’s it?”

Rafe’s brows furrow as he looks at his friend. “Yeah, you fuckin’ druggy, told you I needed to go see my supplier. Your fiend ass didn’t wanna fuckin’ wait, so take it.”

“Shit.” Kelce scratches his head, scooping out some of the white powder and leaning forward on the couch to line it up on the coffee table. “Hey, that’s the girl from before right? At the club?”

Rafe looks up to find Milan across from him in the other room. He watches as she twirls and rolls her hips against Kiara’s. Her shiny dark hair bouncing from shoulder to shoulder and her pretty lips mouth along to the song that’s blasting throughout the house. He runs his thumb over his bottom lip as he watches her movements, completely unaware of the group of girls trying to flirt with him and offer him a bump on the couch next to him.

When they lock eyes her smile grows even brighter and his own becomes wolfish. Her movements become even more daring, she dips low, arching her back before coming back up quickly, flipping her hair and rolling her full body. Her hands cover Kiara’s on her hips as she puts on a show for him.

Rafe chuckles darkly under his breath as he drinks her in, sitting back against the couch comfortably as if he’d paid for this little performance.

It all ends too quickly.

The song changes and Kiara leans into Milan’s ear, murmuring something and making a smoke motion before heading toward the sliding door in the kitchen. The girl is gone for like a few fucking seconds before the fuckin’ loser bastards that had been lurking around them pounce on Milan. Crowding her, trying to usher her into a dance.

She pushes up onto her tiptoes, looking over some guy’s shoulder to regain eye contact with Rafe, an offer in her eyes as she motions him over with her finger.

Shaking his head and smirking, Rafe pats his knee, challenging her. He cocks his head slightly to the side when she gently shakes her own head, and gestures for him to come to her with a single finger.

“Rafeeee, you got anymore?” A whiny voice calls to him.

Right. He was supposed to be moving weight. Damn girl is distracting him. “Uh, yeah, I’m low right now, so I’ve only got baggies, aight?”

“That’s fine,” the girl says flirtily. He rolls his eyes as he feels her hand on his knee. “You have discounts for pretty girls?”

His eyes drag back over to Milan and his jaw immediately clenches. She’s still facing him, but this time she had someone decidedly less acceptable in Rafe’s eyes clutching her. He watches as some prick who he used to play league basketball with when they were fuckhead teenagers basically nutting on Milan’s back. Rafe’s lip curls as he watches the girl dance for this guy. He couldn’t even think of his fucking name. Milan catches his eyes again, looking at him through her pretty lashes, shrugging absently. Seemingly completely unbothered by the goddamn loser basically humping her like a dog. Rafe feels his head swim dangerously and his stomach turn as he watches weak hands trail along her perfect body. Her brow quirks at him once before she turns in the guys arms, turning her back on Rafe.

“Rafe?” The girl to his side looks at him questioningly, briefly trying to follow his gaze with her drug-addled brain, giving up and leaning on him again.

“Uh, right, I’ll give it up for $200.”

The girl’s eyes widen as she looks back at her friends who gesture for her to try again. She smiles at Rafe and tilts her head toward him. “Um, how much if we can hang out a little upstairs after?”

“Oh shit.” Kelce chuckles, sniffing and wiping his nose.

Rafe rolls his eyes. He’s so used to girls offering to sleep with him or suck his dick for drugs. Usually they at least ask him to give it to them for free, this girl was gonna fuck him for a discount. He rarely takes advantage of it, on doing it if he was trying to hit anyway. Really, he doesn’t have to exchange free drugs for getting his dick wet. Fuckin’ look at him.

Right now, he wasn’t really in the mood for random pussy. Not when he literally can’t fucking see Milan in his line of sight anymore. And that fucking idiot that was grinding his dick on her was fucking gone too. He needed to look for her ASAP. “You got the $200 or what?”

The girl huffs and digs in her purse, dropping the money in his extended hand and snatching the bag off the table, grumbling ‘asshole’ under her breath as she and her friends stumble outside.

As soon as Rafe pockets money he goes to shoot off of the couch to hunt Milan down, only to be stopped before he can fully stand.

“Is that cocaine?”

Milan’s sweet voice puts him on red alert. Rafe settles back into his seat and looks at her. She’s staring down at the table worriedly, wrapping her arms around herself as she stands in the doorway. “Was that guy a friend of yours?”

“You didn’t wanna dance.” she pouts.

“Okay?”

“And I wanted to dance.”

Brat. “So you, uh, just dance with some random dick instead?” He asks, giving her a disappointed look and relishing in the way she shifts under his gaze.

Interestingly enough, even with his glare, she doesn’t back down, pursing her own lips and sitting on the arm of the couch. “Jeez, you’re strict, I feel bad for Sarah. Is that cocaine?”

“Yeah, I just provide a little party favor for my friends here and there. What, you want a bump?” He starts to test her limits, resting a large, warm hand on her thigh, feeling her through the thin fabric of her skirt. Careful not to move and startle her.

“I don’t do coke. D’you?”

It’s her wide-eyed look. The dimpled frown as she glances back down to the white substance on the table. She gives herself away to him easily. Milan is a good girl. She’s just a good girl who knows she’s pretty. That’s what the whole dance was about. She was being cute. That’s what she does. But she’s not really about shit. Daddy’s girl with a protective older brother. Two dragons guarding their little princess. Never had anyone tell her no and mean it. If Rafe used the logic in his brain, he would know, he’s too much. What he expects of the girls he hooks up with. God forbid dates. He’d turn this pretty little thing out. He should be nice, and leave her alone.

But Rafe isn’t a nice guy. Not really.

“‘Course not, can’t get high on my own supply.” He smoothes a thumb over her knee. “Don’t worry, Princess, it can’t jump off the table and get you.”

Kelce snorts and Milan’s brows furrow. Rafe whips his head around to his friend, nudging him sharply and sending him a silent message. “Oh, uh, I’m gonna get another drink. I’ll be back.” Rafe sends him another look. “Or I won’t.”

As soon as Kelce gets up, Rafe scoots over on the couch, holding one of Milan’s hands and guiding her onto it with him. “That was one of your friends from earlier right? At the country club?”

“Yeah, Kelce, he’s a fuckin’ idiot.” He says absently, reaching over and grabbing the blunt he’d abandoned when he’d started dealing, re-lighting it. “You don’t smoke weed either, huh?”

Milan shrugs, scooting closer. “I just don’t know how to do it by myself.”

God she’s just fuckin’ perfect isn’t she? Rafe hangs his head, letting out an exasperated laugh. It’s like she was sent as a test. She’s already bad as shit, she’s just sitting here, damn near in his lap with her big fuck-me eyes and wide-open personality. She knows she’s sexy and that’s just about it. But her dad let her go because he was supposed to be responsible. That’s big money on the table, and Ward would fuckin’ kill him if he was distracted by the opportunity to hit on the literal oil baron’s daughter. “Figures, pretty thing like you can’t do anything by herself. What, you need me to light it for you?”

“I’ve only ever had someone shotgun it for me.” She says.

Rafe’s hand is at the back of her head, fist in her hair before he can even realize what he’s doing. He pulls her close, tugging her against him and halting right before she hits his lips. He brings the blunt to his own lips, inhaling the smoke before leaning even closer, drunk on the way she’s looking at him. “Yeah?”

When she gasps out a breath, offering him a little nod, already puckering her plump, lips for him.

Fuck it. Rafe thinks.

He could be a responsible man for his dad tomorrow.

#oc #love #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #sarah cameron #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #obx #rafe cameron x oc #milan cabot #what are you willing to do?

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4fifiandtheflowertots4 · 3 days ago

Text

The House of the Dutch

PART 2

You'd already decided you were going to like it here, but having your suspicions confirmed made you smile. Your bedroom walls had been painted, new furniture had been delivered (You're still waiting for a chair in the living room) and you found solace after a long day in the girls you were quickly becoming close with. Your favourite part of day was getting home from training and helping to make dinner. You alternated who decided and who ran the kitchen, Kerstin becoming your sou-chef as Dominique kept her ban against her and the kitchen.

Tonight, however, was different. Downstairs Domi and Viv and Jill (and Kerstin had probably managed to weasel her way into helping) were cooking and you were stuck in your room. After receiving an angry message from your university complaining that you hadn't attended a lecture in too long, you took the night to force yourself to stare at the screen and listen. You were hoping the strong smell of the paint might take the edge off a bit, sure that you'd read online that paint had enough chemicals in to ‘relax the muscles’.

You laugh to yourself at the thought before trying to refocus your attention on where the lousy professor was wittering on about something or other. It's only when your name is called that you really start to focus. Half the people had already left and you assumed it was the end of the lecture. “You're 4 pieces behind.” He says to you, and you frown. “No I'm not. I keep up with my work. If I had an assignment set I would have been notified and completed within the next couple of days. I haven't had a notification in weeks. I assumed you had been doing other stuff instead.”

“If you ever joined the lectures you would know.” He states, very matter-of-factly. “And this doesn't change the fact that you're 4 assignments behind.” You frown. You can't remember seeing a notification indicating that any work had been set and you've never missed an essay before. You try to think back and- Oh. That very annoying beep that interrupted you're Mario Kart the other week. “I'm sorry. They'll be done within the next two weeks, promise.”

“You know the rules. If you're more than 6 assignments behind I have the right to kick you off the course, Miss.” You rub your hands up and down your face.

“Of course. I'm sorry again.” Your professor leaves the call and you slump down into the chair. You definitely didn't need this now.

You were getting started by City, scoring goals most games and assisting on the others. You groan, leaning back so far you almost tumble off the chair. It's then that a knock echoes around the room and you twist your head to see who it is. You wait for them to come in, slowly realising they're waiting for permission. That rules out Kerstin. “Come in!” You call and Viv peaks her head around the door. “Hey. Dinners ready, if you're ready.” She says, then hurrying out: “If you're not, we can leave it in the oven to stay warm and we'll wait to eat it with you.”

You shake your head, smiling at the thoughtfulness from the girl. “No, it's alright. I'm finished on the call.” She nods and turns back out of the door. You shut down your laptop and follow her down the stairs, your blood still curdling as you try and consider a time you might have to do 2, 5000 word, essays and 2 projects Kerstin cheers when you appear, patting the chair next to her. Jill walks in with the dish of the day and sits at the head of the table, Domi opposite Kerstin and Viv opposite you.

As much as the food looks delicious (A traditional Dutch soup and garlic bread) you poke it about, your appetite gone since earlier.

Jill looks at you questioningly. “Do you not like it?” She tries to disguise the slight waver in her voice.

“Oh! It's lovely, it's really nice.. I just.. am not hungry.” You say, smiling at her and kicking her gently under the table so she knows you mean it. You were going to withhold your troubles as to not worry the others, but they already knew your academic ability (or lack of). “I have a bunch of work to do for my uni and not much time to do it. I'm really far behind and my professor is threatening to kick me off the course. I can't cope with it.”

“How much work?” Dominique asks from across the table.

“2 5000 word essays and 2 pieces of artwork - 1 of those has to be an animation.” You huff, and push the soup over to Kerstin who has been eying it up since you said you weren't hungry.

“I'm really sorry. I might have to sacrifice all our evenings for the next couple of weeks to get it finished. Starting now.” You get up from your seat, ignoring the sad smile from Viv to prevent the guilt from getting to you. You climb back up the stairs and return to your work area where your laptop waits. Staring at the screen, you try to decide what's best to do first. The animation will take ages. The essays are so boring. You have no inspiration to do the art. You slump at your desk again.

After about 30 minutes of deliberation, you start on the piece of art, the most overdue of them all. The assignment aim was to create a portrait in an animation form, recognisable to a popular animated show. Instantly, you were stumped. Time for some procrastination.

You pull out your phone and begin to scroll through Instagram, a couple of racist jokes, a grwm and a prank doing nothing but boring you further. Then there's one of those videos that everyone sees. “First 5 images on your phone define you as a person” nothing could be more boring than this. You open your camera roll. The first picture was one of your best friend, your mum and your dog, sent to you the other day with an ‘I miss u’ message at the bottom. That makes you smile. The next from last Friday, when you went for coffee with Jill at this new place you'd found. It was meant to just be your drink, to put on your story but behind she had snuck in and photo bombed your ideal Instagram shot. She had her tongue stuck out to the side, her eyes criss-crossed and eyebrows bent. Despite her funny face you still find yourself admiring her beauty. You curse yourself. The image after was not a photo, but a video holding a pristine picture of Kerstin dancing with Kiwi in her arms to the circle of life, from Lion King. Viv is laughing in the background, and Myle the dog is barking at the scene. You laugh along with the scene, Kerstin relishing being the centre of attention. She's smiling and its completely magnetic.The next is a photo of Viv wrapped in her city coat, slightly shivering after being taken off at the 60th minute mark. She's curled around you for warmth and you're laughing slightly. Her nose is red at the tip, her cheeks a similar colour. Even now, however many days in the future you feel the need to put your hands on her cheeks to warm her up. The fifth photo is one of Dominique wearing her specialised oven gloves, 'chef Domi' written across the front (apparently a birthday present from last year, you suppose from Kerstin) she has one of her hands pressed against Jill's front, pinning her against the fridge. The other is pointing best she can with the big mittens on her fingers. You remember the moment perfectly, Jill skipping in after a bit of media work she had to do, smelling the cookies you and Domi had just whisked up and instantly trying to pinch some. Having gotten past the first line of defence, you, she managed to get round Dominique when she had her back turn. Just as she'd spun her finger around the bowl, collecting some of the batter, Domi had turned and pushed her against the wall. Despite still being in fits of giggles from where you'd been tickled to the ground, you'd managed to nab a picture, luckily for Jill, just before she'd turned an embarrassingly obvious red. Clearly, you weren't the only one who found the whole ordeal hot.

Still smiling down at your phone, the inspiration seemed to circle the pen you used to draw on your iPad. You started by drawing a bright red 'animated' sofa, then beginning to create a quick sketch of a yellow version of yourself. You're sat right in the middle, then there's a dog by your feet, a perfect creation of your own little pup. To your left, your mama and each feature that makes her special, especially her butterfly tattoo. To your right, your best friend from home, holding a coffee and doing a peace sign with her free hand. Now you were stuck. You knew what you wanted to do but the positioning you were going to find very hard. Deciding who goes where while still maintaining symmetry was turning out to be a real challenge, especially when your stupid overthinking head is considering each placement a ranking of who was your favourite. A long with the fact that the positioning of each person decided how close you were with each of them, not wanting to confuse anybody for the extent of your relationship with any of them (even though you wished you had that extent with someone). For the however manyth time that day, you huffed. You grab your iPad and unplug it, the days activities taking its toll but you force yourself to continue the work. You crawl into your bed and stick your earphones in, blocking the world and it's issues out. You begin to draw again and the initial sketches of your four girls begin to paint themselves across the screen. Seeing them all in yellow makes you smile, allowing for some imperfections and missed features - especially for your first draft.

Your so far into your own world you don't hear your door open, or footsteps lead towards your bed. It'd only when a weight falls at your feet that you look up, seeing Viv sat at the foot of the bed. You quickly pull your earphone out.

"Hey, Love. How's the work going?" You blush at the affectionate pet name despite knowing the innocent intentions. "I brought food!" She waves the chocolate bar in front of her own face, making you smile.

"I've done the first draft of my drawing. It's all in 'The Simpsons' style." You grin at the thought of the 7 yellow people drawn onto your canvas. "I would say it's going well, but it shouldn't have taken 4 hours to draw a first draft."

"Can I see it?" Viv asks, and you pat the bit of mattress next to you. She scoots up and you bring up your latest drawing while ahe cracks open the chocolate. She stifles a laugh when she gets a look at it, but you can tell it's not in judgement. She points at Kerstin first and that makes you laugh with her. "She is never living this down-" she manages between her laughs and you're both keeling over again. You fall into Viv breathlessly, your head on her lap as she tried to control the laughter. Her hand, however, was already combing through your hair gently. Eventually, the giggles turn into breathy intakes of air, her heart rate returning to normal. "You know it's quite late, right?" She says from above you, her hand never faltering on its movement. She hands you 3 squares of chocolate and you take it, quickly realising how hungry you'd got and having a bite. Then you roll to look at her and instantly admire the way the peeking moon manages to catch her eyes.

"Yeah. I'm alright - just going to have to push a bit harder tomorrow." You try to give her your most reassuring smile.

"Don't work yourself too hard. In fact, I think it's time for bed for you." Viv pulls your iPad from your hands, laying it on the bedside table, moving the chocolate with it. "Do you want me to stay with you for a bit, while you fall asleep?"

Cursing the blush on your cheeks, you grin at her and nod. She manages to haul you off her lap and onto the pillow next to her legs. She (unfortunately for you) stays sitting up and picks up a book that she'd left on the end of your bed upon entrance. Her hand returns to your hair, though, and through each twist and pull you can sense each emotion the book it providing her and you wish it always this easy to read the girl. With that, you feel your eyelids dropping, and with one last look at Viv, fall fast asleep.

When you wake, it's because of another Myle vs Kiwi battle, taking place just outside your door. By the sounds of it, nobody is going to fix it so you pull back the covers and crawl shove your feet into the slippers waiting. At the lack of a second presence, you assume Viv managed to slip away when you fell asleep - now asleep in her own room and ignoring the raucus caused by her puppy. You open the door to your bedroom, picking up the first animal you can (Kiwi) and give a pat to Myle, throwing her toy downstairs for her. You smuggle your new friend back into the warmth you'd created, checking the time on your alarm and pulling out your iPad for the extra couple of hours you have at waking early. For sustenance, you break another square of chocolate off and begin to change a couple of things you'd done in your tired state last night - making sure your depiction of Kerstin was a little kinder.

With Kiwi sat on your lap, you crack on with the drawing, allowing the sun to rise and peek through the curtains left slightly ajar in your haste to shut them. You manage to get more time drawing than you expected, only being disturbed by a sleepy looking Kerstin in skippers and pajamas. "Hey have you seen- Kiwi!" She spots the cat and runs over and launches herself towards the cat - towards you - onto your lap. She begins to mutter to the cat something incoherent, stroking her under the chin.

Then Kerstin looks up at you and smiles sheepishly, a warm blush on her cheeks. "Sorry. I couldn't find her, normally she's scratching on my door for cuddles."

"Yeah, no, that's fine." You try to get over the unfortunate positioning of the long muscular limbs of the other Dutch girl. "Her and Myle were squabbling again. Kiwi was the first I got to. I'm sorry."

You realise Kerstin is paying no attention to you when she reaches up and pokes your cheek. She starts to grin. "This lighting is rather flattering of your features, dare I say?"

Raising your eyebrows at her, you catch her finger as it goes for another prod. "Are you suggesting I don't look flattering in other lights, Casparij?" She must have given herself whiplash with the extent of her head shaking.

"No! No, I mean, every light you look stunning - you always stun me atleast. Anyway. Work? You've been working. Can I see it? Art? Yes?" Her measly attempt at a change of conversation humours you, and you bring up your iPad, putting in the pin. When you brought out the device you expected her to shuffle up next to you, instead she chooses to make herself more comfortable on your lap so you have to adjust the screen so she can see it. Since Viv's last look, you'd drawn in a patchwork bunny, a football bouncing across the floor and a pair of oven gloves with the initials DJ laying on the arm of the sofa. You considered it finish, deciding to animate this drawing for your second art piece and use the characters already created in this made up world. You tell her your plan and she nods excitedly. "Can I be playing football, then tumble, and I end up on the floor in one of those 'paint me like one of your French girls' position? And then Viv can walk in with a canvas and start to paint me like the Mona Lisa and Dominique can stick her head around the door with an.." she pauses for breath. "APPLE PIE! Yes, an apple pie in her hands then Jill walks in with lipstick on her cheek, because you know, have you seen all the rumours about a new secret girlfriend?" You ignore the pang in your chest as she continues to ramble. "And she picks up my discarded football and begins to do keepy-uppies in the background all the while you, your mum and your best friend are just sat completely still with a butterfly floating around your head because I love butterflies. They remind me of you. They're beautiful like you, I think that's where I see the resemblance anyway. And your very graceful. I love watching you play football, you dance across the pitch. Should have been a ballerina." A big inhale for breath. "Actually no I take it back because then you never would have met me or maybe you would have done because it's fate." She sings out the last word and shakes about a bit despite her compromising position on your lap.

"Do you believe in fate, Kerstin?" You ask, tilting your head to the side to avoid the sun shining into your eyes. "And- how do you have so much energy for this time in the morning?"

"I always have energy if it means conversing with you, Darling. And fate? I think we'll never know."

You'd thought you'd found some peace, when the room goes quiet - par Kiwi purring ever so often. However it's clear Kerstin gets bored easily, rolling over and reaching up to get her hands on your thighs. You look down at her to ask her what she's doing, but before the words can leave your mouth she tugs and you go down into the depths of duvet and mattress.

Eventually, you resurface, and she's waiting for you having shuffling herself up the bed (still laying down) and stealing your previous position. "There. Now I can see your eyes properly." She looks really pleased with herself and you roll your eyes, biting down a sarcastic response when she sends you a soft smile. "Any plans for today?" Kerstin asks you. "Other than working?" She cuts in before you can speak, seeing the way you open your mouth.

"Then no. I hope to sit in bed and rot while trying to find some inspiration for a however many word essay that won't write itself." You huff again. "What about you guys?"

"Viv's going for a physio appointment about her knee, Dominique's going to visit somebody or other. Jill's meant to be babysitting her niece and I am going out with Mary." She ticks them all off her fingers before looking back at you.

"So it's just me rotting today then?" She nods and you both lay there staring at one another. Then a hand reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. "You really are beautiful in this light." The hand from by the side of your head comes to your hip and pulls you towards her just a little bit. "Can I have a hug?" She's not smiling and joking anymore, her face is straight and her shoulders look sagged. You make the decision to wiggle forward - half for her, half to satisfy the urge to cuddle close you've had since she played you both down. When you start to move, her hand on your hip begins to tug you along too until your head is tucked neatly under her chin. The arm on your midsection tightens and you wrap yours around her lower back. You stay like this for just enough time for the smell of yesterday's perfume to drift around your head. Then she pulls back and you start to wonder what an earth is going on inside her head.

"..are you okay?" You ask her and she nods. Her tongue peaks out and subtly licks her lips and her eyes dash around your face, eyes, nose, blushed cheeks, freckles, forehead and mouth. They rest on your mouth. They're bright with want, sparkling as they continue to stare. Then her face falls and she pulls away entirely. Her whole body just falls from yours like it was a cliff, not a whole queen sized bed but instead of falling she's stood, still staring at you.

"I'm really sorry. I was..was going to, you know, kiss you or something like that. But.." she goes quiet and you have to just wait as she chews over her next words. "Jill. She really likes you. Told me the other day - actually she told all of us and for some reason I took that as 'hey let's make a move' and that makes me a shit person so.. I'm going to leave now. And I would like you not to tell Jill. Or anyone. Because I think Domi likes you too. Not that she'd ever say. Infact.. so does Viv. She chooses what to cook based on what your fancying and even if you say you don't tell her, you wake up every morning and as your making yourself breakfast you say what your fancying for tea under your breath and I can tell it's only meant for yourself to hear but Viv's always up at the same time and she can hear it too." Yet again, she's rambling and you can't do anything but watch as she exposes her friends secrets.

By the time you have a chance to get a word in, she's gone, Kiwi trailing behind.

There isn't much you can do now. Other than sit. Ponder. Consider. Mostly, however, you're wondering how an earth you managed to make 4 very pretty Dutch women like you. You also think about your next move, surely there's a decision you have to make.

You shake that thought of your head, that action instantly becoming easier when theres a muffled scream from room next door, something that sounded like a pillow being thrown against the wall, then a thrump as it hit the floor.

Then your door gets nudged open and a blonde woman makes an appearance, a little girl at her feet. "Hey, my little love. How's the work?" Jill says while kicking the door closed with her foot. "This is my niece, Clara, by the way." The little girl sends you a huge gummy grin, toddling over and giving you a glass of water. "I bought breakfast when I went to collect the little monster, so I thought I'd come give it to you." Jill hands you a chocolate croissant, your favourite, and then picks up the little girl currently very enthralled by the ratty little rabbit sat on your bedside table. "Is Kerstin alright?" She asks, referencing the noise from next door.

Your face flushes while you think of how to put it kindly. You can't think of anything. "I'm not sure. Probably lost a game on her phone or something." Jill gives you a funny look at your stutter but doesn't ask anything further. The girl in her arm starts wiggling so she can't consider for much longer. "Okay. Anyway. If you hear me speaking in English then it's to Clara, my brother and his wife are trying to bring her up bilingual so I thought I'd give them a hand."

"Lucky." You pout and Jill laughs.

"How's your English coming along?"

You put on your best English accent. "Excellent." Then add in Dutch. "Absolutely terrible. I need help."

The little girl had seemingly gotten board of your little bunny, and you take a mental not to apologise to it later for being disregarded. Jill notices and begins to stand up from the foot of your bed. She presses a kiss to your orehead, as she does most of the time and bids you goodbye, calling back warning you not to work too hard. You don't think you'll get too much work done at all. Especially after the strange start of the day.

A/n: Pretty long. Pretty much all waffle. Please tell me what you think of it so I can improve and any plot ideas to <33

#jill roord #dominique jansen #kerstin casparij #vivianne miedema #woso imagines #manchester city #manchester united women

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