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runariya · 3 months ago

Text

Crash Course in Love • 1

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, Namjoon's a snack, smoking, brief mentions of drugs, OC and JK are petty af, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 15.2k

a/n: Part 1 is finally here 🎉 This fic is going to be my comfort story. It's relaxed for me but also quite new in the way I'm telling it and the length. I hope you like it and enjoy it as much as I do writing it 💕

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! 💕

masterlist • 02

You’ve never been much of a risk taker. That’s just not who you are. You've always believed in playing it safe, thinking it’s better to be cautious than to end up regretting a choice. But living that way has meant you’ve missed out on the grand adventures that others your age fondly reminisce about. In fact, this cautious attitude is exactly what ended your last relationship.

Jungkook, your ex, was the definition of a thrill-seeker, the kind of adventurer you read about in stories. He thrived on excitement, and in the beginning, he managed to pull you into his world, convincing you to join him on his smaller adventures. You’d go camping with him or ride along on his motorcycle. It wasn’t much, but for you, it felt like a lot. You were doing things you’d never willingly do on your own. For him, though, it wasn’t enough. And you knew that. So, rather than holding him back any more than you already had with your shy, introverted, no-risks-please kind of persona, you ended things.

Did you regret it? Both yes and no. Yes, because letting go of the love of your life hurt more than anything. And no, because you knew it meant Jungkook could finally live the way he always wanted, without restraint. Watching him happy, embracing life to its fullest, was what you wanted for him. But when he decided to travel the world right after the breakup—the thing you two had dreamed of doing together—it stung deeply.

Jungkook had always been the rational one, even if he was emotional at times. He understood why you made the decision you did, and though it hurt him as much as it did you, there was nothing more to say. When your words were final, that was it.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t stop yourself from checking in on him, stalking his social media to see him living his best life. Each post only made you feel worse, insecure about the choices you’d made. So, in a moment of frustration, you decided to turn things around. You would live on the edge, too. You’d make "risky" your new middle name.

You started small. Baby steps. You poured your glass of water right up to the brim, nearly overflowing, and then picked it up to drink, knowing full well there was a 99% chance you’d spill it. But you didn’t care. You lived dangerously now, and besides, hydration is key.

Next, you let your phone battery drop to 1%, watching the screen dim, your palms sweaty with the urge to just plug it in. But you resisted, holding out until it died completely. Of course, you rushed to charge it afterward, but you’d never admit that part.

Things escalated. You started crossing the street when the walk sign only had five seconds left, sprinting to the other side like a madwoman, just barely making it before the light changed.

But what really pushed you over the edge was seeing Jungkook’s latest post: him, laughing and carefree, with an unfamiliar woman by his side.

That’s when you signed up for skydiving, bungee jumping, and even got your motorcycle license. It was fun—really fun. But doing it all alone felt hollow. Without someone to share those experiences with, the thrill didn’t last long.

As winter approached, you found yourself at your cousin Yoongi’s apartment, practically begging him to join you on your latest venture—a two-week stay at a ski hostel to learn snowboarding.

“I’m not doing shit,” he said flatly, not even looking up from the couch.

“Pretty, pretty please, Yoongs.” You threw your best puppy-dog eyes at him, hoping for a miracle. Kneeling on his carpet, which was nowhere near plush enough to make this comfortable, you added, “I’ll do almost anything you want if you come with me. Pleeeeeease.”

“Everything?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Almost everything,” you clarified.

“Nah, I’m not going. Leave me alone.”

At that, you got up and threw yourself onto the couch beside him, clinging to his arm like a child. You put your face right up next to his, pouting dramatically. “Pwease, Yoongi oppa?”

“Ew, don’t call me that,” he said, surly grimacing in disgust.

“Okay, but only if you come with me! You won’t have to spend a cent. I’ve already paid for everything. Please, please, please.”

Yoongi sighed, and you could see him starting to waver, shooting you the occasional side-eye. “You’ll cover everything?”

“Everything,” you repeated, your eyes sparkling as you sensed victory.

“Fine.”

“Yesssss! I love you!” You kissed his cheek loudly, and he shoved you away with exaggerated disgust, though you knew he secretly enjoyed the affection. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 4 a.m. Pack your bags!”

“4 a.m.?” he groaned.

“Yup! See you then! Bye!”

“I never agreed to go that early! Hey, no! Wait—”

But you were already halfway out the door, knowing that if you stuck around to hear any more complaints, he’d change his mind in an instant.

Day 0

"I'm sure it's here... somewhere," you mumble desperately, trying to navigate your small, old car through the frosty streets of this tiny town. It's not that you're a bad driver, but Tony—your car, named after Iron Man—is getting on in years. With no power steering, driving these treacherous roads is far from enjoyable. Especially with a grumpy, moody Yoongi sitting beside you, not letting you think for a minute.

"I doubt that. You've got us stranded somewhere civilisation hasn't even reached."

"Oh, come on, I know it's here. And it's not as desolate as you're making it out to be! We saw another car, like, 20 minutes ago."

But Yoongi's right. You're no longer sure if you're heading in the right direction. Your phone died hours ago, leaving you without navigation, and there's been no sign of life for miles. You're hoping for a miracle—or at least that your memory of the route isn’t completely off—because the petrol’s running low. You've turned off the heater in the hopes of making it to the hostel without having to walk, but that means you’re both freezing, and Yoongi’s seconds away from murdering you. Not that there’s much left of your blood to spill, as the cold has probably frozen it solid by now.

"I regret agreeing to this, you know?"

"You've told me that already. Like, four times in the last... what? Five minutes?" Your teeth chatter uncontrollably, and you can’t help but silently agree with Yoongi, calling yourself all sorts of names for coming up with yet another idea that’s entirely out of character for you.

"And I'll keep saying it until we arrive. If we ever do." Yoongi’s breath fogs up as he speaks, and when Tony stutters—a sign that it’s running out of petrol or sheer willpower—you feel like you’re about to cry.

The snow hasn’t let up, towering in piles along the narrow street that seems to climb uphill endlessly. At this point, you’re not only terrified of being stranded but of Tony giving out and sliding all the way back down. All you can do is pray. Pray that this journey turns out better than it started, because, frankly, there’s not much that could make it worse.

"Wait, can you see that building?" You lean forward, nearly pressing your nose against the steering wheel, squinting to get a better look at the dark, blurred shape in the distance. Your windscreen wipers are losing their battle against the snow and frost, getting stuck midway, making visibility even worse. "Can you read the sign?"

Yoongi grumbles something inaudible as you both roll down your windows simultaneously, peering outside—not because it isn’t cold enough already, but because there’s no way to keep driving with a snow-covered windscreen. The freezing air and snow immediately assault your face, biting at your cheeks, nose, and everything else. Your nose starts running mercilessly, your eyes sting with tears that freeze on your lashes, making it nearly impossible to keep them open.

Yoongi’s not faring much better. His short hair, while practical, leaves his ears exposed to the cold, turning them bright red in an instant. Yet somehow, he’s still able to swear profusely—though you’re not sure if it’s aimed at you or the weather.

"It says ‘dinosaur,’" he spits out into the biting air.

"Yes! It’s ‘Dionysos!’ We’re here! I told you we weren’t lost." You regret smiling immediately, as the cold stabs at your teeth, making you fear they’ll shatter into a million pieces.

"Just park the fucking car."

As you manage to crest the hill, a small but beautiful town comes into view, beginning with the quaint little hostel you booked. And after you parked Tony right in front or it, you somehow manage to force the car windows back up, the frozen mechanisms protesting all the way with deafening screams. But you don’t care. With aching, frost-bitten limbs, you leap out of the car, grab your bags from the boot, and bolt inside the hostel, Yoongi practically bulldozing past you to get in.

Your arrival is marked by a tiny bell hanging over the entrance. While it’s not Christmas yet, the decorations for the advent season are in full swing. But most importantly, it’s warm. So wonderfully warm that you can’t help but take a deep breath, letting the heat thaw you from the inside out, as you discreetly wipe your nose on your sleeve.

"Oh, hey!" A man behind the reception desk greets you immediately. His glasses sit low on his nose, and a ridiculous Christmas jumper stretches across his tall frame.

"Hi! I’ve booked a room for two weeks. It’s under the name..."

Before you can finish, the man interrupts, saying your name. You glance warily at Yoongi, who, as expected, doesn’t care in the slightest. He’s already parked himself by the fireplace, looking like a cat forced to endure the cold for far too long.

"You’re our only guest this season." The man laughs uncomfortably, clearly sensing your suspicion.

"Oh." That’s all you manage, throwing another helpless glance at Yoongi, who remains completely uninterested.

"Yeah, I can’t compete with all the amenities that new hotel chain offers," he adds with a shrug.

"Oh! That’s a shame." You step forward, genuinely sorry to hear about the plight of small businesses, struggling to survive against the corporate giants.

"It is what it is. But I’m glad to have you here." He flashes you a dimpled smile, his perfectly aligned teeth momentarily dazzling you. "My name’s Namjoon, by the way. I’ll be your landlord, caretaker, cook, and whatever else you need during your stay. Just let me know, and I’ll make it happen."

You shake his hand, startled by how cold your fingers still are. "Thank you so much, Namjoon! You already know my name, but this grump glued to your fireplace is Yoongi."

"Honeymoon?" Namjoon asks, with a teasing grin.

"Ew, no." Yoongi’s voice drips with disgust, and he doesn’t even flinch under your glare.

"What he means is, no, we’re cousins, spending the holidays together."

"Forced to spend—"

"Willingly."

"Threatened to—"

"Shut up, you agreed! Don’t make me look like an idiot."

"You nearly killed us."

"Oh, I did not! Stop lying."

Namjoon clears his throat, cutting off your bickering. You both turn to him sheepishly, like children being scolded by a parent. Your cheeks are burning, not just from the warmth but from the embarrassment of your argument.

"I’ll give you a tour of the place, then?" Namjoon offers, smiling warmly.

"Yes, please," you reply, eager to move past the awkwardness as soon as possible.

Yoongi struggles to tear himself away from the fireplace, but eventually, both of you follow Namjoon, who remains all smiles despite your rather unorthodox arrival.

“So, this is the main area. You can relax by the fireplace whenever you like—it’s lit all the time,” Namjoon says, glancing at Yoongi, who still seems transfixed by the flames. “To the left are the rooms. There are only three, and yours is at the far end. I took the liberty of choosing the honeymoon suite because, well… you know what I thought. But honestly, it’s the best room here, so it’s no big deal.”

You swallow the urge to ask if it’s possible to have two separate rooms, but you’re running low on cash. Since you’ve become Yoongi’s unofficial sponsor for this trip, two rooms are out of the question. You just hope Yoongi has somehow outgrown his relentless snoring from childhood because, God forbid, you’ll be at your wit’s end if he ruins your sleep for two whole weeks.

“And to the right is my private room and the dining area. Any allergies I should know about?” Namjoon asks.

“No,” you and Yoongi reply in unison, sounding like textbook tourists. Not that you aren’t, but you’d rather it wasn’t so obvious.

“That’s good to hear. These days, everyone seems to have some kind of allergy or gut problem. I really don’t want to have to drive you to the hospital; it’s quite a distance from here…”

Namjoon stops mid-sentence, realising he’s rambling. You’re still standing there, bags in hand, coats on, now sweating from the warmth. You can only hope your body doesn’t rebel from the extreme change in temperature.

“This way, please,” Namjoon says, leading you towards your room. He swings the door open ceremoniously with an old-fashioned key in hand, and you and Yoongi follow, your heavy boots and coats disrupting the otherwise serene, festive atmosphere.

“Wow,” Yoongi murmurs, and it’s truly a sight that will stay with you forever.

It isn’t the room itself that takes your breath away, but the view. The wall facing the mountains is made entirely of glass, offering an uninterrupted view of the snow-covered slopes from peak to base. The storm has lessened without you noticing, revealing thick, heavy snowflakes gently falling, while the sun breaks through the grey clouds that shadowed your entire journey.

You watch as skiers and snowboarders carve their way down the mountainside, zigzagging effortlessly through the untouched snow. At the foot of the mountain, families are building snowmen and riding sleighs, laughter and joy visible even from this distance. It’s in moments like these, during those once-in-a-lifetime experiences, that your thoughts drift back to Jungkook. You find yourself wishing that things had turned out differently, that he could be here to share this with you.

You shouldn’t feel sad about it. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him, especially when he’s clearly moved on. Your relationship feels as distant and forgotten as a book written centuries ago—once beautiful, overflowing with fairytales too good to be true, but now irrelevant, no longer suited to withstand the test of time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Namjoon’s voice pulls you back to the present, and for that, you’re grateful. Yoongi wouldn’t understand your feelings, and even if he did, he wouldn’t indulge your nostalgia over a past relationship—especially because it was your first and last.

“It is. Thank you for giving us this room, Namjoon. It’s more than I ever expected.”

Yoongi tosses his bag onto the floor by the bed, shrugs off his coat and shoes, and immediately flops onto the bed, his gaze fixed on the view.

“No worries, really. There’s a phone and a card with my number on it by the nightstand. If you need anything, come to reception. If I’m not there, knock on my door—I’m happy to help.”

Namjoon’s kindness and humility stir something in you. He’s incredibly good-looking, tall, and there’s something about his calm and friendly manner that makes you feel at ease. As he smiles at you, his dimples showing, you wonder if perhaps you might let yourself indulge in him a little—let him be the warmth you’ve been missing.

But for now, you’ll settle in. Let the next two weeks pass without forcing anything. You want to be swept up in whatever comes your way.

“I’m really happy I booked with you, Namjoon. You’ve been so kind, and this room is perfect. Thank you again.”

“Anytime.”

Your eyes linger on his for a moment longer than you’d admit was necessary, and you seize the opportunity to ask him a few more questions just to keep looking at him.

“So, I booked a snowboarding course through you. That starts tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, the instructor’s a friend of mine. He’ll be staying here too but won’t arrive until right before your lesson. You booked the classes for a full week, correct?”

“Yeah, I thought a week would be enough, and we’ll practice on our own after that.”

“That should work well. He’s great at what he does and an excellent teacher. But if you need more help, he’ll still be around for the rest of your stay.”

“That’s good.” You’re only half-listening. Namjoon’s dimples and kind eyes are distracting you too much to focus on his words.

“Oh, before I forget—anything in town worth seeing? I’d love to stroll around today since we’ve got no schedule.”

“I’m not leaving this room,” Yoongi mutters, his voice dripping with boredom, but neither you nor Namjoon pay him any attention.

“Hm, there’s not a lot, but you should visit ‘Jimin’s Pastries.’ He supplies my bread, and his pastries and coffee are to die for.”

“That sounds perfect. I think I’ll check it out straight away—I’m starving,” you say with a bashful laugh. “You coming?” You ask Yoongi coldly, knowing the answer.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. So, how do I get there?” Immediately you turn back to Namjoon.

“I could show you?”

There’s a slight hesitance in Namjoon’s offer, but it only makes him more endearing. You smile genuinely, feeling a little more charmed than you’d like to admit. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great, let’s go then.” His easy-going nature doesn’t falter, even when Yoongi calls after you, “Bring me back some food!”

There’s no need to answer; the door to the room has already closed behind you, leaving Yoongi behind as well.

“I’ll just need to fetch my coat real quick.”

You follow Namjoon to the reception, your eyes drawn to the way his hips move with each step, the subtle flexing right in front of you. It’s not as if you objectify every attractive man you meet, but Namjoon clearly takes care of himself, and there’s nothing you can really do. After all, you’re no saint, and Namjoon is definitely one of those reasons you’ll never take a vow of celibacy.

He doesn’t take long to return, emerging from his room with a rather thin coat hugging his body, making you feel a little ridiculous in your thick down jacket. But there’s no way you’re changing now.

Ever the gentleman, Namjoon holds the hostel door open for you with a small smile, and you thank him silently as the bell above the door chimes again softly. You don’t let your thoughts drift too far—don’t let them wander back to that time when Jungkook told you he always thought he’d meet his soulmate when he heard a bell the first time he saw them.

Because you’re sure that’s just folklore, just a whimsical story, something for entertainment. And even though Namjoon seems like someone nice you could spend time with, the fanciful idea that he might be your soulmate because of a little bell is absurd.

Outside, the cold hasn’t let up one bit, though the storm and heavy snowflakes have finally ceased. But this time, you welcome the chill, grateful for the contrast to the stifling heat of the hostel and the layers you’re bundled in.

You walk side by side, heading deeper into the small town, and now that the air is clearer, you notice fairy lights strung across the street, bare trees decorated with quaint Christmas ornaments, and every house and shop adorned for the season.

“So, how long have you been running the hostel?” you ask, unwilling and not comfortable nor confident enough to let the silence stretch for too long, opting for small talk that feels so much more safer.

“It’s been a few years now. I took over when my father couldn’t run it anymore.”

“That’s a responsible thing to do. I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but Namjoon’s hair isn’t black at all. Now, as the sunlight reflects off his soft-looking strands, you realise it’s a dark brown, making him look much younger.

“He is.” Namjoon smiles bashfully, glancing down briefly as though to hide a slight blush. “I just hope I can keep things going as well as he did.”

“I’m sure you will. The place is lovely.”

“Thanks. But what’s really lovely is Jimin’s, which is right here.”

Namjoon gestures towards a small shop you hadn’t noticed before, stopping just a short walk from the hostel. You realise now that everything in this tiny town is within easy reach, which you find very convenient.

And he’s right, ‘Jimin’s Pastries’ looks jut as charming as the hostel. The building is old but beautifully restored, its large windows inviting you in without detracting from its historic charm, as though it’s withstood the test of time. The large windows must be new, but you suspect the struts are original, as is the interior you can spot from outside, and it makes you marvel at it instantly.

Namjoon leads the way inside, once again opening the door for you to step through first. Again, a soft chime rings above the door, and the first thing you see is a man behind the counter, slightly shorter than Namjoon, with a smile as radiant as the sun itself, his eyes crinkling into crescents, making him look oh-so-youthful and impossibly welcoming.

“Hey, hyung! Who’s this you’ve brought with you?” the man asks brightly, his voice as musical as a singer’s.

“This is ___, she’s my guest for the next two weeks. ___, this is Jimin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Please, take a seat, make yourself at home! Namjoon, the usual?”

“Yeah, and some of your magic pastries. We’re starving, right?” Namjoon offers you a seat after taking your heavy coat, which you accept with a shy smile, feeling unaccustomed to such attentiveness.

“Yes, that sounds great. Thank you.”

“And what would you like to drink, ___?”

You squint up at the menu hanging above the counter while Namjoon takes his seat across from you after putting your coats on a rack near the entrance, but Jimin doesn’t give you much time to decide.

“Oh wait, I’ll bring you my special.”

With that, he sets to work, moving quickly around like a busy bee, and you take the opportunity to absorb and soak in the cosy, homey atmosphere.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Namjoon whispers over the sound of coffee beans being ground, leaning in slightly, his elbows resting on the table.

“It is. Thank you for showing me this place. I can’t wait to try everything—it all looks so delicious.”

The display of cakes and sweets is overwhelming, filled to the brim. The macarons, in particular, seem to call out to you, their bright colours practically begging to be tasted, looking almost too perfect to be real, knowing that you have to try them.

“I hope you like it as much as I do, or else I won’t know what to serve you for breakfast.”

You can’t help but giggle with Namjoon, his demeanour so warm and charming it’s impossible not to feel at ease.

“Here you go!” Jimin sings as he walks over with a tray nearly overflowing with pastries, balancing so many that even if you hadn’t eaten in days, you’re sure that there would still be leftovers. But you you’re not about to complain, secretly pleased you’ll get to taste almost everything on offer.

“The usual for Mister NJ, and here’s yours, beautiful,” Jimin winks cheekily, handing you a cup of coffee off the tray. You try to suppress the shy blush creeping up your cheeks. It’s really been a while since anyone’s flirted with you like this, and even if it’s maybe just playful, it’s not unwelcome, but simply unexpected.

“Thank you.”

You’re a bit surprised when Jimin pulls up a chair to sit between you and Namjoon, but thinking about it, it makes sense. There are no other customers at the moment, shop being completely empty except for you three, and it’s clear he’s close friends with Namjoon. Besides, you don’t mind; in fact, it’s comforting to be making these friendly connections, especially if you’re going to be here for two whole weeks. Maybe if these two weeks go well, you could see yourself coming back here one day.

Sensing the expectant looks from both men, their eyes flicking between your face and the cup of coffee in your hands, you finally take a sip—and are immediately thrown back to memories of Jungkook. The momentary peace you’d found is shattered as the familiar taste hits you. The coffee is good, wonderful even, just as perfect as you expected from Jimin’s first impression, but it tastes exactly like how Jungkook used to make it for you, though serving it in a normal cup seems rather…interesting now.

But Once, you loved the aftertaste of sweet iced Americano, loved the aftertaste after Jungkook had put his lips on yours. But now you’re alone. Now, you’re without him, and there’s nothing you can do but swallow it down, hoping your expression doesn’t give you away—hoping they don’t see how broken you really are and that you’re lying. Lying that you’re not stuck in an all time low for years now, lying that you’re not trying to fix your pride since.

“Wow, it tastes amazing!”

But both men jut blink at you now, and it’s only then that you realise your hands are trembling slightly, and that the smile you’ve tried so hard to put on doesn’t feel as genuine as you’d hoped.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin’s uneasy in an instant, his brow creasing. “Don’t you like it? Would you prefer something else?”

They both look rather too concerned for their own goods now. Jimin, too, tries to take the cup from your hands, but you hold it closer to you. It’s kind of sweet how strangers seem so empathetic towards you, and it somehow soothes the ache in your chest, even if it’s only a little, but not quite enough to make you forget.

“No! It’s perfect. I swear. It’s just that it reminds me of someone who’s no longer in my life.”

“Oh, my condolences.” Namjoon stretches out his hand, resting it gently on your lower arm with sad eyes.

“No! Oh gosh, no, it’s my ex. He’s alive, we just broke up.”

While Namjoon’s face falls into an embarrassed, crooked smile, taking his hand away, Jimin’s lights up like the fairy lights outside in the dawn. He wastes no time sliding closer to you, his wooden chair squeaking lightly on the tiled floor.

“Oh, tell me about it. Was it recent?”

You want to say yes, because even though it’s been a while since the split, it still feels like it was just hours ago. But at the same time, the time spent apart from Jungkook feels like an eternity, too unbearable to survive, really.

“Uhm, no, it’s been years, actually.”

And that shifts the whole room into chaos. Jimin doesn’t miss a beat before suggesting, “You just need to get properly dicked down, one good time.”

Namjoon looks even more embarrassed, trying in vain to get Jimin to shut up, while you sit there watching them argue about whether or not Jimin’s suggestion is the right way to help you forget your ‘scruffy ex’—his words, not yours or Namjoon’s.

“Actually, I’m not really interested in finding someone new at the moment.”

“See! I told you! Just let her be!” Namjoon leans back in his chair with a proud, triumphant smile on his face, crossing his arms as if he’s known you for years, which, obviously, he doesn’t. His glasses slide down his nose, making him look less convincing than he should.

“Oh, shut up, she just doesn’t know it yet. Maybe we could set her up with C. I think they’d look cute together.”

“I don’t know, man, you’re kind of right, but he’s not looking for anyone either.”

“That’s perfect! Wait, tell me something about yourself, I need to check if you’d vibe with him.” Jimin again leans in close, his elbows resting on the table between you, hands framing his chiseled jawline as he looks at you with sparkling, excited eyes.

You’re not sure what’s just happened, or who this ‘C’ is. And especially, you’re unsure how to answer the request to ‘tell them something about yourself’. Do you tell them about the introverted self you once were or maybe still are deep down? Your default so to say? Or do you describe the ‘new’, in your opinion uncomfortable self you’re desperately trying to become? At this point, you’re not even sure who you are, and the realisation exhausts you more than the drive here did.

“I…hm…I’m more the type of person who’s calm and doesn’t like a lot of adventures or risky things. So, I don’t think there’s really anyone out there who could handle that.” Yeah, great way to spark someone’s interest—talking down on yourself should definitely be added to your list of traits.

“Oh, that’s perfect. C’s been out of his mind for years. He definitely needs someone to balance him out. The dude’s mental.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, eyes flickering between Namjoon and Jimin. If he’s mental, why would Jimin want you to get involved with him? You’ve got enough of your own problems; babysitting a potential partner is the last thing you want to do.

“Oh no, he’s not mental mental, just a bit too reckless. He’s searching for something no one really understands. I reckon he’s just looking for love, or to be loved, but he’s obviously not finding it.”

“Oh... I see…” You nod vaguely, trying to piece together the information being thrown at you without getting whiplash. “But, uh, who is C, exactly?”

“He’s your snowboard instructor, actually,” Namjoon chimes in. From the look on his face, he’s completely on board with Jimin’s idea as well.

“And his name is C?”

“We call him that. It’s short for BSC, which is short for Babystarcandy.” Jimin beams at you, as if this explanation makes perfect sense.

“I reckon that’s not his actual name?” You deadpan.

“Gosh, no! That would be ridiculous.” Jimin waves his hands exaggeratedly while Namjoon chuckles. “His actual name is—”

The loud ringtone of Namjoon’s phone makes all three of you jump, Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” blasting from his coat.

“Sorry, I’ll just get that.” Namjoon stumbles off his chair, tripping over his own feet. He grabs his coat at the last moment, pulling it to the floor with him as the hook breaks under the weight.

“Not again,” Jimin sighs, rubbing his eyes with both hands as he sinks further into his chair. “I swear to God, one day—”

“Why am I calling myself?” Namjoon wonders aloud before quickly answering, “Hello?”

You can’t hear the other side of the conversation from across the room, but Namjoon doesn’t seem confused for long. He responds joyfully, “Of course. We’re heading back now... sure... bye.”

“You’re going to pay for that repair,” Jimin mutters as soon as Namjoon hangs up and gets to his feet, tucking his phone into his trousers and pulling on his coat.

“Of course, I always do. That was Yoongi, by the way. He’s hungry and wants us to bring him food. Sooo, could you pack up all the pastries?”

“Yes, of course!” Jimin jumps up immediately, gathering everything together while you watch longingly as he takes the macarons too. But you’re not too sad—you’ll just gobble them as soon as you’re back in your room.

You stand, finishing your coffee in one go, knowing that even though you can taste the caffeine from how strong it is, it won’t do much once your stomach’s full. You’re simply too knackered after today to stay awake longer than necessary.

“Yoongi called you from your hostel phone?”

“Yeah, he didn’t know another way.”

“I can’t with him; he’s so shameless sometimes.” Namjoon helps you into your coat, a gesture you’d like to get used to again—the simple act is just too sweet not to fall in love with.

“Ah, I don’t mind. I like people like him; they’re always honest.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Here come the treats!” Jimin sings as he swings open the door to the back room. The pastries are now securely packed in a paper bag, which he hands to you. “Thanks for coming by, and make sure to come tomorrow too. We’re not done talking, especially after you meet C in person!”

You can’t help but laugh with them both. It’s refreshing to feel joy and fun around you without having to put yourself at risk with some nonsense activity. But if you’re honest with yourself, you wouldn’t have met them if it weren’t for that very activity.

“Thanks, Jimin. I appreciate it. And we’ll see if I’m still alive after tomorrow.”

“You will be—C will take good care of you,” Jimin winks again, and with that, the door chime sounds as Namjoon opens it for you. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” you and Namjoon say in unison, stepping into the cold night as the wind bites at your face again. The fairy lights now illuminate the whole street, ornaments reflecting their red and gold hues, looking like something straight out of a film. Children are still up, playing in the snow and running around, while couples stroll along the pavement.

It’s a scene you wish you could see every day, and as you make your way back to the hostel with Namjoon by your side, you can’t help but glance up at him now and then as he talks about the small details of the town’s history, C and Jungkook momentarily forgotten.

Day 1

You regret bringing Yoongi with you. So much so, you want to cry and never stop.

It’s not like he’s bad company—not all the time, anyway—but sharing a room with him puts everything into perspective. His snoring hasn’t lessened one bit since childhood; in fact, you’re pretty sure it’s gotten worse. There’s no way you’ll get an ounce of rest if you keep sleeping in the same room, so you decide to ask Namjoon at breakfast if there’s any chance you can switch to the other spare room.

Lying awake all night until Yoongi got up at ass o’clock, leaving the room with his laptop and other gear, had you contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made, including the ones yet to come. Isn’t it ridiculous what you’ve got yourself into again? Sure, you’re kind of sporty, but when it comes to risky sports like snowboarding, you’d much rather watch others do it than try it yourself but here you are.

You’re sure if Jungkook had seen the way you’ve been living these past few years, he’d laugh. Not that he’d ridicule you—he’s not that type—but you’re certain the clown you’ve become would disgust him as much as it disgusts you.

You’re not sure if it’s healthy to still be so hung up on your ex, or if it’s just normal when you’ve lost the love of your life. Normal in the sense that every thought circles back to him, like you’ve taken the fall for some drug called Jeon Jungkook.

You’ll probably have to search the internet for a rehab clinic that specialises in self-inflicted heartbreak because after this adventure, there’s no way you’re doing anything like this again. Enough is enough. Especially when there’s possibly, just maybe, a potential partner—someone cozy and inviting, like Namjoon—who might actually like you for who you really are.

It’s still early, but you need to get up and grab some breakfast, knowing today’s course will be physically draining if you attempt it on an empty stomach. You’re certain that dragging Yoongi out will take extra time you don’t have to spare. The thought of making a bad first impression on C terrifies you, not only because he’s a stranger, but because, as Namjoon said, he’s coming here just for you.

Groaning, you force yourself out of bed. The room has cooled slightly overnight, which wasn’t a problem under the thick duvet, but now you can’t seem to handle the cold as well as you usually do. Rushing into the en-suite, you’re first greeted by the warmth of the heated floor, and then by the horrifying sight of your reflection.

“Please, don’t,” you plead, as if your reflection could magically change the image of your swollen face, a result of the ridiculous amount of pastries you munched last night. Your dark circles look more like war paint than the result of a restless night—a far cry from a cute quirk.

There’s no point in using much makeup, not when you’re going to be snowboarding—or rather learning how to—all day, so you settle for a bit of concealer. It takes a lot of mental pep talk to leave the blush behind, knowing the cold will soon give you rosy cheeks and a red nose the second you step outside the hostel.

Getting dressed is a bit easier; you throw on some thermal black gear, braid your hair into two sections, and leave the room in search of either Namjoon or Yoongi.

It’s no surprise to find Yoongi by the fireplace again, empty plate and coffee nearby, but seeing Namjoon beside him—Yoongi clicking away on his laptop while Namjoon raps into a microphone—leaves you speechless. There’s a whole side of Namjoon you hadn’t seen before. Sure, you only met him 12 hours ago, but you never would’ve imagined, in a million years, hearing him angrily spitting line after line. And despite his usual softness, this harshness leaves you nearly gasping for air.

What are you supposed to do? You’ve always had a weak spot for bad boys, men who exude confidence. And Namjoon is definitely giving off that vibe right now.

“Oh baby, what’s your name?”

The whimper that escapes your mouth is so embarrassing, especially when both men look up at you—Namjoon halting mid-rap—that you can’t, for the life of you, figure out what’s wrong with you. Are you really this pathetic, or was Jimin right all along? Maybe you just need a good shag to recalibrate your brain to normal. It’s been years, and considering the state you’re in now, something’s surely got to change.

You muster whatever dignity you have left and greet them as casually as possible, “Good morning.”

Yoongi, ever the ray of sunshine, doesn’t bother turning away from his laptop, clicking away as if you’re just a fly that’s wandered in. But Namjoon? He meets your eyes with a smile that could rival the dawn itself.

“Morning! Ready for breakfast?”

“Yes, please.”

You’re smitten, and there’s no hiding it as he leads you to the dining area. A table is already set, and you recognise Jimin’s bread in an instant. Knowing how hungry you are after your late-night binge, you waste no time sitting down, your eyes glued to the treats and toppings on offer.

“Fancy a coffee?”

“Black would be perfect!”

“Not a sweet tooth?” Namjoon jokes, pouring you a cup from the thermos flask, the rich aroma battling with the scent of the food.

“Not in the morning.” You smile up at him.

“Probably because you’re sweet enough straight out of bed.”

His wink nearly makes you faint, and it’s clear that while Namjoon’s good with his tongue when rapping, he’s also very smooth with it. You wonder if…

“I guess so,” you mumble, too flustered to look him in the eye now.

He chuckles quietly and sits opposite you, not bothering to eat himself.

“Not hungry?” you ask, feeling a bit more composed as you distract yourself by preparing your breakfast.

“Nope, I just ate. Just wanted to keep you company.”

“That’s nice of you, thanks. I really hate eating alone, though I do it almost every meal. So, I appreciate it.”

“No worries, I’m happy to keep you company.”

“So, you rap?”

A lazy smirk forms on Namjoon’s face, his head tilted up slightly, and you know full well he’s aware of what he did to your hormones minutes ago. He only hums in confirmation.

Cocky. But you like it, and it suits him. You just hope he’s not too confident—that would be a massive turnoff.

“Side hustle or hobby?”

“Hobby, but Yoongi’s been putting a bee in my bonnet, to be honest.”

“He’s persistent when it comes to talent.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m talented, but he’s a dope producer. I didn’t recognise him at first, but man, I’m lucky to have him here. A literal world star staying in my hostel. I’m gonna have to make a wall of fame or something.”

You snort at that because as ridiculous as it sounds seeing Yoongi on a ‘wall of fame’, Namjoon’s not wrong. Yoongi is world-famous, though he prefers to keep a low profile, which you admire. Well, most of the time. Him being this tight with the expenses of the trip leaves a bit of a sour taste in your mouth—not caused by the coffee, that’s for sure.

“Are you famous too, by any chance?”

You snort again, “You wish.”

“Shame.”

“Tell me about it. Even though I’m the broke one, I’m still the one sugar-mommying him,” you mumble through your bites, not wanting to waste time without filling your stomach.

Namjoon’s laugh lights up the morning even further, and you’re all too glad you booked this hostel. It would’ve been miserable spending your time alone while Yoongi’s off doing his own thing every chance he gets.

“Any chance of getting a separate room?”

“Why?”

“I can’t spend another night lying awake because of Yoongi’s snoring.”

You look at each other, and suddenly the inconvenience doesn’t seem as bad as it did all night. Namjoon’s laugh is going to be your secret weak spot from now on.

“Sure, I’ll just move your luggage if you haven’t unpacked yet.”

“That’d be great. Thanks so much.”

“No worries.” Namjoon watches you for a bit while you eat, like it’s the most fascinating thing happening to him.

You don’t mind at all—it’s not awkward—but you can tell you’re running out of time by how slowly you’re eating.

“When do we have to leave? Is C here already?”

“Yeah, he got here a few hours ago but went straight to the slopes. You’ve got a few more minutes. I’ve sorted out some gear for you at Hope’s. He’ll give you everything you need for the week.”

It’s a relief knowing Namjoon has thought of everything, especially since you’re not fond of surprises or poorly planned outings.

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“It’s my job, ___.” He winks at you again, and if you weren’t so focused on shovelling food down, you’d probably melt into your seat.

“All done,” you mumble through your last bite, crumbs shamelessly falling as you stand up.

“Perfect timing. I told Yoongi how to get to Hope’s; it’s not far.”

Not wanting to thank him yet again like a broken record, you just nod and follow him to the main room, where Yoongi’s already by the door, waiting. You’re not sure why he’s so eager when he didn’t even want to come in the first place, but you don’t dwell on it as you say goodbye to Namjoon and head out, Yoongi handing you your coat.

The walk to Hope’s? You’re not really sure despite Namjoon mentioning the name twice, but to the guy who runs the ski and snowboard equipment hire shop indeed isn’t far.

As soon as you step into his shop, you’re hit with the sight of all kinds of winter sports gear and old-school rap blaring at full volume—likely coming from some speakers behind the counter where the seller greets you.

“Hey! How can I help you?”

“Hey, we’re guests of Namjoon and—”

“___ and Yoongi! Of course, Namjoon’s already told me! I’m Hoseok!”

“Weird.”

“Shut up,” you hiss at Yoongi. “That’s perfect. It’s our first time, and there’s no way we’d know what we need.”

“I’ve got you. Just follow me, I’ll start by getting the right boots for you.”

“Thanks.”

There are so many boots in all sorts of colours and sizes that you’re not sure if they’re all for hire or if some are for sale, but it doesn’t really matter. There’s no way you’re going snowboarding again after these two weeks, so you’d gladly pick whatever’s the comfiest.

Yoongi, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to share that thought, picking out the most expensive-looking boots. Truth be told, they do look the fanciest, and if you were as loaded as him, you’d go wild too. It’s with a jolt that you remember you’re the one paying for all this, and there’s no way you could afford the ones Yoongi’s holding up to inspect.

“Put them back,” you hiss, slapping his hand, scolding him for being so careless with your expenses.

“Ouch, that’s rude.”

“I’m not paying for them. Put them back before you damage them and I end up bankrupt.”

“So, what sizes do you usually wear?” Hoseok interrupts, completely unfazed by your bickering.

“Seven and a half.”

“Three and a half.”

“Dwarf.”

“Bigfoot.”

“I’ll bring you one size up,” Hoseok says with a smile. “Any particular colour you fancy?”

“Purple.”

“Black.”

“Got it, I’ll be right back.”

He leaves you both at the rack, disappearing behind a curtain into the back room.

“Could you stop embarrassing me, please?”

“I didn’t do shit, ___. Stop whining.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Need I remind you I’m doing you a favour here? Where’s the respect?”

“Sorry, oppa,” you bat your eyelashes at him mockingly.

“Say that again and I’m leaving.”

“How? Tony’s petrol’s empty. You’re going to walk home?”

“Bet.”

Just as you roll your eyes, Hoseok returns with two shoeboxes and two helmets, placing them down on a bench.

“I’ve brought you brand new ones. There weren’t many in your sizes I’d be comfortable renting out.”

Yoongi and you sit on opposite sides of the boxes while Hoseok removes the packaging from the new boots. Yours are purple, but just the laces and stitching—the rest is black, which gives them a more grown-up look compared to kids’ shoes. You fall in love with them instantly and eagerly grab one to put it on. But no luck.

Even though they’re fully open, you can’t seem to get your foot inside, despite your efforts. You stomp on the ground, pulling at the boot with both hands, but it’s no use. Yoongi, of course, isn’t struggling at all—typical, he’s good at everything.

“Here, let me help,” Hoseok kneels in front of you, securing your calf and the boot, angling the heel to the floor. “Now stand up and push your foot in.”

You do as he says, and with a soft, satisfying ‘plop’, your foot slides in without a hitch. “Thanks! That was easy!”

You repeat the process with the other boot, tightening the laces and clasps, then stand to take a few steps. You stumble slightly, not used to the weight and bulk of the boots, but soon get the hang of it.

“They need to fit quite snugly. When you’re fully geared up, make sure to fasten them as tight as possible. Otherwise, you’ll go flying, and your board will stay on the snow.”

“Oh. Right. Okay. Yeah, sure.”

You don’t like this. You don’t like the idea or the mental image of being catapulted out of your boots while your snowboard says c’est la vie.

To your amazement, the helmets Hoseok picked for you and Yoongi fit perfectly as well.

“If you’re feeling good, let’s get you sorted with snowsuits, yeah?”

You nod and attempt to follow Hoseok, but Yoongi pulls you back down onto the bench, your ass hitting the hard surface with a rather painful thud.

“Take them off, idiot. How are you going to get a suit on with those still on?”

Ugh… it’s obvious, really, but you’re too stressed and anxious about snowboarding to function properly. It’s in moments like this that you start spiralling, regretting your decision all over again. You’re not sure what gave your thoughts away, but Yoongi seems to notice the shift in your mood, as he rests a hand on your knee.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m here. Don’t stress.”

You lock eyes with him, and you can see a bit of regret there. It’s normal for you two to bicker and take the piss out of each other, but it’s also normal for you both to care. You love each other, like cousins do, and part of you regrets ever thinking you’d made a mistake by bringing him on this trip. Because honestly, there’s no one else in your life right now you’d rather do this with.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s all good. You’ve got this, okay?”

You just nod, loosening the clasps and laces to take the boots off and helmet, then walk in your socks over to where Hoseok is rummaging through racks of snowsuits.

It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to get your right sizes and for Yoongi to disappear into the changing room first. You’re not really sure how to start a conversation with him, but thankfully you’re saved by the shop’s phone ringing.

“Excuse me,” Hoseok smiles politely, walking towards the counter where the phone is obviously placed.

“Hope’s, how can I help you?”

You hold the snowboard jacket in front of your chest, admiring its intricate design in the mirror hanging in front of you, trying not to obviously listen in on the call.

“Jaykaaaaay.”

You freeze, the nickname ringing all sorts of alarm bells in your head. There’s no way it’s Jungkook; like, literally, there might be a million other people with that nickname. You need to calm down somehow, because if your anxiety rises any further than it already has, you’re sure you’re going to die from heart failure.

Hoseok’s repeated and drawn-out calling of this nickname doesn’t help in the slightest, and you reckon that if he repeats it one more time, you’d punch him in the face, even though you’re so not the type to be violent. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Thankfully, the cheerful shouts stop, and Hoseok listens in until he locks eyes with you, a smile forming. You try to figure out if all the people in this town have such perfect teeth, if there’s a dentist who works magic, or if everyone just has perfect high-end genetics you could only dream of.

“Yeah, they’re here at the moment.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. What do Yoongi and you have to do with this phone call?

“Just a few more minutes. I’ll send them to the beginners’ hill when we’re finished, yeah?”

Okay, hold up—it must be the instructor on the other line, and Namjoon and Jimin called him C, but Hoseok just called him Jaykay, which has nothing to do with C nor BSC. Was it even BSC? Anyway. There’s a very real chance that it’s definitely not Jungkook, because, shame on you, you’ve seen him post a picture from Hawaii last night on socials, which, obviously, isn’t here.

You don’t feel the need to ask Hoseok who it was or what’s going on with these multiple nicknames. For all you care, it could be a 50-year-old, and you’re stressing yourself out for nothing.

Hoseok comes to your side after he’s hung up, and Yoongi emerges at this moment too, though he’s not modelling his snowboard suit but has it draped over his arm.

“Fits,” is all Yoongi says, nodding once in Hoseok’s direction.

“Perfect, now it’s your turn.” Hoseok gestures for you to the changing room, and you don’t waste any more time. The faster you’re out of here, the faster this day is over, and that’s all you want as the snowboarding course gets closer.

“Thanks,” you mumble, searching for Yoongi’s eyes for just a little more reassurance, but he’s already too busy having a normal and civil conversation with Hoseok, something you wish he’d do more often with you.

There’s not much room in the changing room, especially when the snowboard trousers are this wide and baggy, so you fall against the walls multiple times, trying not to faceplant onto the floor.

“You good?” Hoseok’s voice is heard from outside, and it’s so unbelievably embarrassing realising that Yoongi had no struggle trying the clothes on because there wasn’t a sound coming from him. Not because the walls are thick or soundproof—no, because he’s simply doing well, like every human being should.

“Yeah!” you call, hoping that the high-pitched tone of your voice doesn’t give you away. But who are you kidding? There’s the low but unmistakable giggle and some mumbled words from Yoongi, followed by Hoseok’s shrill laughter.

You’re going to kill Yoongi, going to push him down the hill and watch him become a snowball and crash into the abyss of a glacier. Stupid moron—you should have left him at home and come alone, and the sharp tug of your jacket’s zipper punctuates your resentment perfectly.

The anger fades as fast as it came, because you look like the coolest professional snowboarder on earth. You twist and turn, make a bum-check, but realise there’s not much to see in these oversized clothes. Still, you feel good in them, especially as your body heat multiplies, which is the best sign that you’ll survive all day in the snow.

Knowing you’ll have to leave as soon as you’re finished, you take the jacket off and rip the price tag away. After undoing the trousers and doing the same, you don’t care if the gear is expensive. Even if so, you’d still use it for sledging or in case of a blizzard or something. You’re sure you’ll get creative with its use.

Sipping everything back up, you collect your down jacket and step out of the changing room, not as elegantly as usual, but more with a rustle and a slight swaying due to the fabric. You can’t suppress the smile that grows on your lips, Yoongi and Hoseok looking equal parts amused and approving of your appearance. You’re all going to get a good laugh out of it when you’re wearing the snowboard boots as well, and that’s all you need right now—humour to suppress the anxiety.

Two snowboards are already lined up. Hoseok helps you into the boots again, while Yoongi masters dressing himself like a real grown-up.

“C’s going to adjust the boot holders on the snowboards for you, so you can just take them with you as they are. They fit your height. And you can leave your shoes and jackets here and collect them whenever you’re finished for the day.”

“That’d be great.”

“Thanks, Jwe-Hope.”

You side-eye Yoongi. Why’s he getting soft with Hoseok? And why does he give him yet another nickname, as if the man doesn’t already have enough?

“No prob, Yoongi hyung,” Hoseok says in an exaggeratedly playful tone, while Yoongi dabs him goodbye.

You’re fascinated by how Hoseok managed to melt the ‘Ice King’s’ heart in the few minutes you were away, and it’s even more fascinating how Yoongi just heads for the door without you even having paid yet.

“Yo, wait! I need to pay!”

“Yep, I’m outside having a smoke.”

There’s nothing you can do as Yoongi leaves without even turning back, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I’d like to pay, please.”

Hoseok nods with a smile and you follow him to the register. He scans one tag after the other, the price skyrocketing while your bank account starts to scream in the background.

“That’ll be 899 dollars,” he beams.

Your smile is wobbly, as is your hand as you hand over your credit card, knowing that this trip will be more expensive than you ever thought.

“Thanks again, Hoseok.”

“No problem, and please call me Hope.”

“Sure, Hope,” you say, securing your credit card in the inner pocket of your jacket. “Have a nice day, and see you later.”

“See ya, bye!” He waves enthusiastically as you head for the door, interrupting Eminem’s Godzilla with your stomping and rattling. How ironic.

Yoongi’s leaning against the shop’s wall as you step outside, just about to take a drag of his cigarette as he notices you glaring at him. Snatching the cigarette from his lips, you take a drag yourself.

“Thought you quit.”

“Give me a break, I need to calm my nerves.”

“Reckon some coke would be better, you’d feel invincible and wouldn’t be scared shitless.”

“Reckon you could just shut up, yeah?”

He just laughs as you give him his cigarette back and make your way to where you assume the slope is.

“This way.”

You stop in your tracks, taking a deep breath with closed eyes. You don’t want to go off at him again; you’ll need every ounce of energy, and wasting it by bickering isn’t the way to go.

Reluctantly, with the snowboard and helmet awkwardly clasped in your hands, you manage to follow Yoongi, though walking on asphalt is rather uncomfortable in these boots, though the walk might be again very short.

True to that, arriving in a few minutes at the beginner’s hill is a bit sobering. The hill’s neither high nor steep, even kids with sledges would probably call it boring, but you don’t mind one bit. Honestly, it’s perfect for you. No real chance of getting hurt and ending up like one of those cute little animals from Happy Tree Friends.

Off to the side, there’s the lift access and the main slopes, with skiers and snowboarders already queuing up for their first or maybe their nth lift of the day.

One snowboarder shooting down the steepest hill, which just so happens to be the only one of its kind, catches your attention. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black, and the way he moves is hypnotic. You can’t help but think he must be a pro, maybe even an Olympian.

“Look! He’s so good.” You point him out to Yoongi, who shifts from looking bored to mildly impressed.

“Why’s he coming our way, though?”

“No way.”

But it’s true. He’s definitely your instructor. And not some fifty-year-old guy, either. There’s a lump in your throat you can’t quite swallow, especially because this guy’s height seems just a little too familiar… maybe too much like Jungkook’s. As far as you remember, at least.

You try to reason with yourself. Tell yourself there’s no way this is happening, because he’s got to be in Hawaii—Instagram stories and TikToks made that pretty clear, playing the role of a drunk uncle on family gatherings who can’t keep personal matters shut. You cling to that thought as the man stops a few feet away from you. You cling to it when he takes off his helmet, revealing just a black balaclava. You cling to it even when his eyes give him away.

But when he pulls off the balaclava, all you’re left with is the crushing realisation that you’re absolutely, without a doubt, screwed.

“Hey.”

Jungkook’s voice hasn’t changed much—maybe it’s a little rougher, could be also just from the cold—but it’s still the sound that makes you want to cry. Or run. Honestly, either would work right now.

His eyes lock onto yours, and all you can do is stare, wide-eyed, as if he’s some unreal figure, like a fairytale character suddenly brought to life.

You’ve watched Jungkook mature over the last few years—not in person, but still. You’ve seen the piercings he’s got and the tattoos currently hidden beneath his gear and gloves, and you’re suddenly more than aware that even though he was perfect back then and you shouldn’t have persuaded him to get piercings and tattoos, he’s become the one man you always knew he would be, if not more.

“S’up,” Yoongi just nodding.

That makes Jungkook glance at him, almost as if he’s only just noticed he’s standing there. A small frown forms on his face, but it disappears just as quickly as it came, and he holds out his gloved fist for Yoongi to bump.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, your instructor.”

“Min Yoongi.”

“The producer Min Yoongi?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook glances back and forth between you and Yoongi several times, and it dawns on you—he doesn’t know you and Yoongi are cousins. Yoongi was abroad the entire time you were with Jungkook and only came back right after the split, so of course, he never met him. And this… this is something you can work with. Maybe you can use it to keep Jungkook at arm’s length, or at the very least, avoid a complete emotional meltdown if Jungkook’s indeed moved on.

So you laugh softly and link your arm with Yoongi’s, resting your head on his shoulder, who just looks down at you, clearly confused by your sudden affection but, to his credit, says nothing. He knows you well enough to trust there’s a reason behind it.

“___.”

“Jungkook.”

“You two know each other?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s my ex.” Jungkook’s smile isn’t the warm, beautiful one you remember. No, it’s that slightly unhinged smile, the one with his head tilted just so, and it makes you silently gulp.

“That ex?” Yoongi asks, even though he knows full well there’s only one. You reckon he caught on quickly to the game you’re playing.

You hum in agreement, but Jungkook can’t help himself. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Luckily, Yoongi knows how to steer a conversation. “Aren’t we supposed to be learning how to snowboard?”

There’s a brief pause, and you see the way Jungkook’s nostrils flare slightly as he takes a deep, calming breath.

“Yes, sorry. Let’s get started.”

Jungkook bends down to unclip his boots from his board and stands up again, tossing his board into the snow so it sticks upright. Yoongi follows suit, shoving his board into the snow like it’s second nature. You try to copy them but fail miserably, wondering how they made it look so easy when the snow’s this solid.

“Here, let me help.” Yoongi, surprisingly, helps you without his usual snarky comments about your lack of strength.

“Alright,” Jungkook claps once to grab your attention. “Before we get into any of the fancy stuff, let’s talk theory. Snowboarding’s all about awareness. It’s not just physical—you’ve got to keep your head in the game.”

“Awareness? Like, where you’re looking?” Yoongi asks dryly, acting dumb you know he isn’t.

“Exactly. Where you’re looking, where your body’s pointing,” Jungkook gestures bizarrely between you and himself, barely glancing at Yoongi. “That’s where you’ll go. Simple as that. If you’re distracted—by, say, something or someone—you’ll lose focus. And losing focus means losing control.”

Yoongi, unfazed, just rolls with it, clearly enjoying the little drama Jungkook seems keen to stir up. “Makes sense. Keep your eyes on the path ahead, yeah?”

“Exactly, mate. Eyes forward, always. But it’s more than just looking. It’s feeling the terrain beneath you. Even when you’re standing still, you’re never really still. You need to sense the environment. Be present, y’know?”

You nod, though in reality, you’ve got no clue what he’s talking about.

“Some people, though,” Jungkook continues, “they get distracted easily. Head in the clouds. Or… elsewhere.”

Oh, you’re not letting that slide. Whether he’s jabbing at you, Yoongi, or both, you’re not having it. “Could you just explain the theory without the snide remarks?”

Jungkook’s taken aback, holding both hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, just trying to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

You just shake your head, and he carries on.

“Right. Balance—this is key. It’s all about your centre of gravity. Too stiff, and you’ll fall over. Too loose, and you’ll just flop around.”

“Don’t want that, do we?” Yoongi smirks, clearly challenging Jungkook to keep his little act going.

“No, mate, you really don’t. Trust me. You need to find that sweet spot—controlled, but relaxed. Kind of like…” he glances at you, “when you’ve got things under control in your life, but you’re still going with the flow, yeah?”

Your eyes narrow at him, but you bite your tongue. There’s no point in calling him out when Yoongi’s clearly enjoying winding him up.

“Sounds like life advice, that. Keepin’ balance, goin’ with the flow.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, “Not that everyone takes it to heart.”

Oh, no, he did not just say that. You never expected Jungkook to be this petty. He’s the one who moved on first. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Anyway, let’s get warmed up. Let’s do some exercises using the hill.”

You thought that ‘warming up’ would mean some jumping jacks and stretching, but oh, how wrong you are.

Jungkook has you and Yoongi running up and down the beginner’s hill without regret, and honestly, you can now confirm—it’s very much steeper than it looks.

While Jungkook just looks on, you and Yoongi can’t stop laughing and joking about how you are both panting like you’d just run a marathon, earning you multiple scoldings from Jungkook to stay focused. Not that it matters much, considering the only thing worth focusing on was trying to catch your breath—you nearly passed out twice at this point.

Despite Yoongi also being knackered, he still holds up better than you, but you can’t help but to clap him on the ass with a sarcastic “atta girl” more than once, which not only annoys him but seems to make Jungkook’s jaw clench in irritation too.

After what feels like the tenth climb, Jungkook finally calls it, walking towards you. “Enough. Short break.”

You and Yoongi groan in relief, collapsing onto the snow, letting your breathing slow down gradually. Only now, as you lie there exhausted, do you notice how beautiful the day is, the sky almost completely clear of clouds. From the position of the sun, you reckon it’s close to lunchtime, your stomach already growling in gratitude at the thought of food after all this exercise.

Turning your head to the side, you glance over at Yoongi, who’s also lying on the cool snow, admiring the sky. Suddenly, you feel sentimental. You really hit the jackpot having him as a cousin—he’s probably the most reliable person you know. It’s moments like this, especially when he turns to look at you with those soft eyes and that warm smile, that remind you how much you appreciate him. Reaching out, you intertwine your hands, knowing he’ll understand the rare moment of affection and let it happen for once.

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Anytime.” Yoongi squeezes your hand, his gummy smile spreading across his face, a trait he’s clearly inherited from his dad.

Jungkook’s rather aggressive throat-clearing reminds you that you’re indeed not alone. Your petty ex is standing right there, looking as irritated as he’s been all day.

“Let’s do some stretches, then we’ll get on the boards,” he says, trying to mask his annoyance but clearly fails.

You and Yoongi drag yourselves up, lining up in front of Jungkook like school kids, who’s about to demonstrate some stretch when, in the distance, someone calls out Jungkook’s nickname—one you’ve found increasingly odd now.

“C!”

There’s a beautiful woman running towards him waving energetically, the same woman you saw in pictures with him on social media.

“Hara!” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop her up when she’s near, lifting her off the ground as they giggle together.

You’d never admit it, but the sight makes you feel physically sick. You’d rather gouge your eyes out than watch this scene unfold ever again. At least you’ve made Jungkook believe you’re with Yoongi—otherwise, you’re not sure how you’d survive the fresh stab to your heart.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” she scolds him playfully, tapping his arm while he still holds her hands.

You can’t bear the sight of his eyes sparkling for someone else, so you turn to Yoongi, who’s raising an eyebrow at you, silently asking if you’re okay. There’s no need to respond. You both know the truth—you’re still not over your ex. But what could you have done? Begged him to take you back before he found someone else? No. That’s not who you are, and you wouldn’t have stopped him from living the life he clearly enjoys now.

But seeing him today, seeing how hurt he is just by the sight of you—or rather, you with someone else—makes you uneasy. Especially when Hara is being overly affectionate with him.

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Hara.” She turns to you, extending her delicate hand. You briefly consider ignoring her, but you decide to be the bigger person. Unlike Jungkook, who’s been cold all day, you take off your glove and shake her hand, introducing yourself politely. Take that, Jungkook.

She moves on to Yoongi, and after he introduces himself, her face lights up like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh my God! I’m such a fan! You’re, like, the best producer ever!” she gushes, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to burst out laughing at the sour expression on Jungkook’s face.

You: 2, Jungkook: 0.

“Really?” you ask with a mischievous grin, keen to twist the knife further. “Oppa, you should definitely sign something for her, don’t you think?”

Yoongi shoots you a look that could kill, but he simply smiles, his eyes betraying all the curses he’s silently aiming at you. “Of course.”

Still clutching Yoongi’s hand like it’s a lifeline, Hara turns her head back to Jungkook. “Oh my God! Did you hear that, C?”

“I heard,” Jungkook replies through gritted teeth. “Why are you out here in the cold, by the way?”

“Oh, right. I came to tell you that Namjoon’s arranged lunch at Tae’s.”

“That’s nice of him,” you sing sweetly, unable to resist adding a little extra honey to your voice. Everyone else gets your praise, everyone but Jungkook. Maybe you’re just as petty as he is, but you’re not backing down now, especially not when you can see his patience fraying by the second, his eyes dark with annoyance. A reaction is a reaction at this point.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Hara continues, turning and clinging to Jungkook’s arm and batting her eyelashes at him, “can you pretty, pretty please come to Jin’s tonight and tomorrow? We need help getting everything ready for the party in two days.”

It’s odd seeing Jungkook so easily swayed by her, the kind of behaviour you never thought he’d entertain. But maybe he’s changed, or maybe you never knew him as well as you thought.

“Sure, anything for you.”

Yep, you’re definitely going to throw up in the snow.

“What party?” Yoongi pipes up, earning himself a mental kick from you. There’s no way you’re attending a party where Jungkook will be.

“An early Christmas party! You’re both invited, of course. From what I’ve heard from Jimin and Namjoon, you two fit right in with everyone here,” she giggles.

For once, you and Jungkook seem to be on the same page, as he starts, “I’m sure they’ve got better—”

But for what feels like the hundredth time today, Yoongi interrupts, “No, we’d love to come. Thanks for inviting us.”

That crazy smile Jungkook had earlier is now plastered across your face as you look at Yoongi. Despite the silent argument raging between you two, you can’t help but trust him. Whatever plan he’s concocting, you have no idea, but you’re sure he’ll fill you in when you’re back at the hostel, alone.

For now, though, you trust him, because what else can you do?

"Let’s head to Tae’s then."

“With the boards?” you ask dumbly, because there’s no way you’re carrying your board across town.

“No, just leave it here and see what happens.” Jungkook smiles, a grin that instantly vanishes when Hara punches his chest.

“What’s with you? Be kind.”

“Sorry, noona.”

Ooh. So he’s with an older woman. Who’d have thought? It shouldn’t get under your skin this much, but it’s been a crap day, hell, even some crap years, and there’s nothing you can do to undo every thrilling experience you wish you hadn’t gone through because of him.

“I’ll help,” Yoongi mutters, grabbing not just his snowboard but yours too. If there’s one thing you could do to repay him for this gesture, it’d be to name him the sole recipient in your will. Not that you’ve got much to leave behind, but the thought counts, right?

You hadn’t expected ‘Tae’s’ to be a cabin on the slopes nearby, nor did you think it’d be a luxurious home rather than a restaurant. As you approach the door, you’re impressed—there’s no sign of it being some kind of inn as Hara rings the bell.

It doesn’t take long for someone to open the door, wearing nothing but some slacks and an open bathrobe, showing off his tanned, chiselled chest.

“C!”

“Tae!”

The two men pull each other into a bear hug, patting each other’s backs like they’re trying to knock the wind out of each other. Male friendships—you’ll never get them, and honestly, you’re glad you were born a woman with every violent tap.

When they part and Tae gives Hara a few friendly kisses on the cheek, you notice she’s just as comfortable with him as she is with Jungkook. Odd.

Then Tae turns to greet you and Yoongi. His eyes widen when he spots Yoongi, and a huge, boxy smile spreads across his face, so wide it looks like his face might split.

“Hyung!”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi replies, sounding strangled as he gets crushed in the taller man’s arms.

You’re torn between being amused by the visible disgust on Yoongi’s face as he’s squashed against Taehyung’s bare chest or offended that Yoongi never mentioned he knows someone who lives here.

“Please let me go.”

“Sorry, hyung, it’s been ages! How are you?”

“Good.”

“Ah, I’m doing well too, hyung, I’ve missed you.”

“I can tell.”

It’s amusing how Jungkook and Hara are a bit thrown off by Yoongi’s coldness, but as far as you can tell, both you and Taehyung know it’s just Yoongi being his little ray of sunshine. He’s genuinely happy to see Taehyung again, even if he doesn’t show it openly.

“And who’s this Miss Universe you’ve brought along? Are you on your honeymoon?”

You don’t have a chance to answer when Taehyung turns to you, because frankly, his intense gaze and barely-dressed body in the cold are a bit overwhelming. It’s kind of bizarre that he’s standing there in the open, half-naked, while the rest of you are bundled up for the weather. You force yourself not to check if his nipples are hard and instead stretch out your hand politely.

“That’s ___.” Yoongi’s voice is heard.

But Taehyung ignores your outstretched hand and steps forward, pulling you into an embrace and kissing your cheek, completely throwing your composure out the window.

“Are you two dating?”

You glance at Yoongi over Taehyung’s shoulder, both of you equally unsure how to answer. Yes, you’re pretending, but outright lying is something neither of you is comfortable with.

“We’re—” you start to say, dragging it out, but thankfully, for reasons you can’t quite grasp, Jungkook grabs Taehyung’s shoulder, pulling him away from you and cutting in. For once, you’re grateful for Jungkook’s stupidity.

“Let’s get inside. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Yes, right! Come in, come in.”

Entering Taehyung’s place is nothing short of wild. The grand open space is filled with dubious art pieces, the kind where you’d rather not know the price tag.

It doesn’t take long to kick off your snowboard boots and gear, leaving you in your base layers. Despite the warmth inside, the sudden shift in layers makes you shiver slightly, especially since there’s nothing in your stomach to keep you warm.

Following Taehyung further inside, you let your eyes wander, and you can’t help but stop when you spot the massive dining table, looking more like something out of a castle. It’s not the Korean BBQ on it that catches your attention but rather the chairs lined up around it. They’re shiny black. Not so unusual, except for the fact that they’re shaped like the backside of a person—naked, at that.

Yoongi, absolutely unfazed, just grins and gives you a light shove on the lower back to keep you moving.

“I hope you’re hungry. I brought plenty, so don’t feel like you’ve got to be all posh and eat like a bird.”

Rounding the table, you sit down beside Yoongi, while Hara joins Taehyung on the other side of the table. Why Jungkook chose to sit next to you, when there are thousands of other free chairs, is a mystery you’re not eager to unravel. Especially when you shoot him an irritated look as he sits down, and he just smiles like it’s the most normal thing in the world—as if the two of you weren’t split ages ago.

Not wanting to dwell too long on that and because you’re intestines are eating you alive at this point, you turn to your host.

“Thanks for having us, Taehyung. I’m starving after being tortured all morning.”

Everyone laughs at your comment—except Jungkook, who tries to nudge your ribs with his elbow, but you dodge, still somehow familiar with his antics.

“I didn’t torture you.”

“You did,” Yoongi mutters, boldly reaching for the meat to throw on the table grill, which has been sizzling away since you sat down.

“C always tortures people, nothing new,” Hara remarks, and Jungkook looks more betrayed than the day you broke up with him.

“You’re mean, noona.”

“‘You’re mean, noona,’” you mock him, cringing at yourself even as the words come out. It disgusts you how petty you’re being, and you recoil from it inwardly. The others don’t seem to share your sentiment, laughing at Jungkook being moody.

“Oppa, how do you know Taehyung?”

“Please, just call me Tae.”

“You remember the paintings in my studio? He’s the artist.” Yoongi answers you casually, though you can sense how much it bothers him being called oppa.

“No way! That’s so cool!” You gush, letting your eyes drift to the artwork hung on the walls as Yoongi adds food to your plate, much to Jungkook’s annoyance, which he makes clear with a side-eye.

“Aww, it’s not much.”

“Shut up, you’re amazing,” Hara scolds Tae, and you can’t help but think that, under other circumstances, you’d probably want to be friends with her. She seems funny and genuinely nice, which just makes it suck more the longer you dwell on it.

“I’ve been looking for a painting to hang above my bed for ages, but I can never find the right one,” you mention, trying to steer the conversation as far away from Jungkook as possible.

“If something catches your eye, you’re free to have it, ___.”

“Really?!”

“Don’t spoil her; she doesn’t deserve it,” Yoongi jokes, and you know he’s kidding with the way his eyes flit to you.

“Wow,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, but before you can respond, Taehyung cuts in.

“Why? What did she do?”

Oh no. Yoongi wouldn’t… but of course, he does.

“Little Miss Adrenaline here has been dragging me to most of her adventures since I got back from the States.”

“That’s not true. It’s only been a few,” you try to save face, but it’s hopeless with Yoongi being both your closest ally and worst enemy.

“So bungee jumping, kite surfing, and now snowboarding isn’t ‘most’?”

“No! I’ve done plenty without you, stop lying.”

“But it was enough.”

“They’re bickering like an old married couple,” Hara laughs, clearly torn between which of you to watch.

“It’s not enough—you’ve left me on my own more times than I can count!”

“At least I was there when you whined beforehand and came back all fuzzy after.”

“How noble of you.”

“You don’t seem like the thrill-seeker type, no offence,” Taehyung adds when Yoongi doesn’t come back with a retort.

“Well, sometimes you’ve got to step out of your comfort zone.”

“Yeah! Look at you, trying snowboarding all bold and brave! Kind of like all the things you said you weren’t into when we were dating.”

The table falls into a deathly silence. Jungkook’s words ring out in the open space, echoing painfully in your heart and being. You’re stunned, utterly speechless at his outburst—it’s so unlike the Jungkook you knew. You don’t know what to say, and thankfully, Yoongi spares you the need.

“Want some more meat?”

“Yes, thank you.” Your voice is quiet, too low to betray the trembling in it, but you’re sure everyone feels the hurt radiating from you. You don’t want to feel like a kicked puppy, but somehow, because Jungkook still means so much to you, it stings deeply.

The conversation between the others resumes, though you and Jungkook remain silent for the rest of the meal, though you reckon he doesn’t regret anything.

You learn that Hara is the same age as Yoongi, and that Taehyung is a bit older than Jungkook—though only by two years.

Even though you haven’t recovered from Jungkook’s jab just yet, you start to enjoy the food, feeling more energised than you did this morning. Jungkook, however, is still steeped in his pettiness, especially when Yoongi helps you tear a perilla leaf off the stack.

It shouldn’t be a big deal, but the constant negative energy from Jungkook is draining you to the point where you’re not sure you’ll even make it back outside for the snowboarding session.

Luckily, neither Yoongi nor Jungkook seem to mind dragging the day out here at Taehyung’s place. Hours pass, and after Tae makes you his special smoothie for your ‘sure-to-be-sore muscles,’ and Hara spills all the gossip you never knew you needed, it’s clear the snowboarding course is off for today.

While Tae and Hara clean up the kitchen, and Yoongi and Jungkook, to your surprise, get along enough to talk shop about music, you take the opportunity to admire Tae’s paintings, hoping to find one that fits what you’ve been searching for.

There are several abstract pieces, bold in colours and strokes, but they feel too chaotic, making you feel restless. You’re about to give up when your eyes land on a smaller piece above the fireplace, drawing you in immediately.

It’s beautiful—abstract as well, but with muted colours. You think you can make out flowers, or perhaps there are angels. You’re not sure, but the painting exudes a calm, controlled aura that you can’t tear yourself away from. Reading the title on the little card in the corner, you see “All of My Good is Yours.” It’s poetic, and it speaks to you on a deeper level.

“You like it?” Taehyung asks, stepping up beside you, hands in the pockets of his bathrobe. With his tousled hair and laid-back vibe, he looks every bit the artist.

“Yes, it’s lovely.”

“You want it?”

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.”

“Of course you can. I’d be happy to gift it to you.”

You smile softly, thanking him as you admire the painting once more, already picturing it above your bed.

“What’s the title about?” you ask, curious about the story behind the piece.

“C? Come over here real quick.”

You’re more than confused when Tae calls for Jungkook, not understanding the connection between him and this painting. You just hope the confusion isn’t written as plainly on your face as it is on Jungkook’s when he approaches you both, stopping just short between you and Tae.

“S’up?”

“What’s the title about?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker nervously between you, the painting, and Taehyung. “Why are you asking?”

“I gifted her your painting,” Taehyung beams, completely unaware he’s just dug your grave and pushed you in.

The laugh that escapes Jungkook is anything but friendly, his eyes filled with what looks to close to hatred as they land on you.

“Of course,” he breathes, then eventually explains with a disdainful smirk, “it’s about a lover who knows he can’t live without the other.”

You’re shocked to the core. Was this painting meant for Hara, and it ended up at Tae’s by mistake? Or why would Jungkook paint something so meaningful in the first place? You can’t handle it after learning the meaning and that he painted it, even though it’s exactly what you’d envisioned.

You take the hit anyway and say, as neutrally as possible, “I guess I shouldn’t take it then. It feels too personal.”

“Why?” Jungkook scoffs. “It was supposed to be yours anyway.”

Jungkook turns around at that, leaving you gaping after him. It’s not just his mood swings but also his remarks that are giving you whiplash at this point, and seeing the equally shocked expression on Taehyung’s face, you reckon Jungkook isn’t usually this bitter.

“Well…”

“Well…” Taehyung echoes.

“Still want it?”

Do you? You’re not sure anymore, but maybe there’s enough time to figure out if you can look past it all and take it home.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Sure, just let me know, and I’ll pack it up for you.”

“Thanks, Tae. You’re too kind.”

“No worries.” He smiles as he walks back with you to where the others are lounging on his massive couch.

You don’t even have the chance to sit before Yoongi stands up and nudges you back to your feet. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?”

“I want a nap.”

“What about the course?” Jungkook chimes in.

“Tomorrow, mate. Today’s done.”

You’re grateful Yoongi made the decision for you because you wouldn’t have been able to say no to either Jungkook’s company or the course itself, even though both aren’t exactly the healthy pastime. But looking outside, with the late afternoon light fading, going back to the slopes doesn’t seem as inviting as it did earlier.

“Aight,” Jungkook says, clapping his hands on his thighs as he stands up too, completely unfazed by your puzzled expression.

“Wait, we need to get our stuff from Hope’s,” you call after Yoongi, who’s already slipping into his boots.

“I’ll call him and let him know you’re coming tomorrow,” Taehyung offers.

You’re not sure if it’s rude of you to leave it like that, but you thank him anyway, hoping it won’t be a big deal.

Everyone’s getting dressed in seconds, and once again, you’re struggling with your boots while everyone else watches. You try not to let the embarrassment show, but there’s no stopping the blush. Even when you throw pleading glances at Yoongi, he doesn’t offer any help.

“Let me help.”

Jungkook being the one to help is something you never expected after how the day has gone, but you’re grateful nonetheless. He bends down, and like Hope earlier, he takes the boot and your calf in his hands.

It’s nostalgic, him touching you, helping you when you’re the damsel in distress, and it makes you think about how different things would’ve been if you’d stayed by his side. You’re not sure how to feel—sad or angry. But who should you be angry at? Him? For moving on? Or yourself? Or maybe at Yoongi, for not stepping up like a cousin should in moments like this?

“Thank you, Kook.” You hadn’t meant for the nickname to slip, hadn’t wanted to see Jungkook’s starry eyes locked onto yours as though you’ve broken his heart all over again. But what’s done is done, and there’s no taking it back now. Not even the nickname.

“Thanks for having us, Tae.” Yoongi gives him a quick dab, and after Jungkook does the same, and you say your goodbyes, you leave with Hara.

You try to stay close to Yoongi, avoiding the other two. You don’t even have the energy to scold him for not helping you earlier. And while you walk silently towards the hostel, Hara takes a different route to wherever she’s staying.

You don’t ask, and you definitely don’t watch as she kisses Jungkook’s cheek as if they won’t see each other later at Jin’s. It’s different from how she kissed Taehyung, and you’re pretty sure even if they’re not officially dating, they’re at least sleeping together. The thought stings though.

It doesn’t take long for you to reach Namjoon’s hostel, Jungkook, maybe for old time’s sake, opens the door for you to step in first, and when the door chime rings, you both glance up at the same time. There’s none of the old playfulness in his gaze, just a sadness you wish you’d never seen. You reckon it’s all just old feelings resurfacing—thoughts of the good times, ignoring all the things that went wrong.

“Hey! You’re back!” Namjoon calls from behind the reception desk, flipping through some books as the three of you stomp inside with your snow-covered boots. Just hours ago you thought his smile and laugh would be your weak spot, only to fade into insignificance after Jungkook’s presence. “How was it?”

“I’m still alive,” you and Yoongi mutter in unison, bringing a small smile to your lips. It’s not much, but it’s all you can muster right now.

“Told you C would take good care of you both.” Namjoon laughs while Jungkook shrugs off his jacket. He’s probably too warm already, like he always is.

“Your luggage is—”

“In our room, thanks, Namjoon.” You hope he catches the hint as you give him a crazed look, willing him to stop talking.

“Right, in your room.”

To his credit, Namjoon’s clearly confused, and he’s got every right to be, but he plays along, which is exactly what you need right now.

“I’m taking a nap. Bye.”

“Bye!” You wave at Namjoon, following Yoongi in a desperate bid to escape spending another minute with Jungkook. It feels rude, the way you’ve treated Namjoon, but you hope he’ll brush it off as exhaustion.

You just want a bath and then to crash, even though it’s still early evening. It doesn’t matter that Yoongi’s snoring will probably keep you up; as long as you don’t have to face Jungkook again today, that’s all that matters. Especially when you see him entering the room across from yours as you close the door to the honeymoon suite, knowing that he’ll be off to be with Hara any minute.

masterlist • 02

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀

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

taglist: @leah-rose03

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estellan0vella · 7 months ago

Text

Dating Them ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuta, Yuji, Megumi & Toge with special addition: Maki (REQUESTED) Masterlist

Satoru Gojo

Adventurous Dates: Gojo loves excitement and adventure, so expect dates filled with thrill-seeking activities like skydiving, bungee jumping, or exploring abandoned places. He'll always keep you on your toes.

Sense of Humor: Despite his serious demeanor in battle, Gojo has a playful and mischievous side, so be prepared for lots of witty banter and playful teasing during your dates. He'll keep you laughing all night long.

Spontaneity: Don't be surprised if Gojo suddenly whisks you away on a spontaneous road trip or decides to try out a new restaurant on a whim. He loves living in the moment and hates sticking to strict plans.

Confidence Booster: Gojo's confidence is infectious, and he'll always make you feel like the most important person in the room. He's not afraid to shower you with compliments and affection, boosting your self-esteem whenever you're feeling down.

Listener and Advisor: Despite his carefree attitude, Gojo is a great listener and always offers sound advice whenever you need it. Whether it's about school, work, or personal issues, he'll lend a sympathetic ear and help you work through any problems.

Protective Nature: As a Jujutsu Sorcerer, Gojo has a strong protective instinct, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe from harm. He'll always have your back in dangerous situations and will go to great lengths to ensure your well-being.

Intellectual Stimulation: Gojo is incredibly intelligent and well-read, so expect deep conversations about a wide range of topics, from philosophy and history to pop culture and current events. He'll challenge your mind and keep you intellectually stimulated.

Romantic Gestures: Despite his playful demeanor, Gojo knows how to be romantic when the occasion calls for it. Whether it's surprising you with flowers and chocolates or writing you heartfelt love letters, he'll always make sure you feel loved and cherished.

Respect for Independence: While Gojo loves spending time with you, he also respects your independence and understands the importance of having your own space and interests. He'll never try to control or smother you, allowing you to pursue your passions freely.

Unpredictable Romance: Dating Gojo is anything but boring. With his unpredictable nature and boundless energy, every day is a new adventure filled with surprises, laughter, and love. Get ready for a whirlwind romance unlike any other.

Drabble: You and Satoru Gojo are strolling through a bustling street market, the air filled with the aroma of exotic spices and the chatter of vendors. His hand is intertwined with yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm as you browse the colorful stalls.

"Hey, check this out," Satoru says, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he leads you to a stall selling handmade jewelry. You watch as he sifts through the intricate designs, his enthusiasm contagious.

"This one would look perfect on you," he declares, holding up a delicate silver necklace adorned with a small sapphire gemstone. You smile, touched by his thoughtfulness, and let him fasten it around your neck.

As you continue exploring the market, Satoru's attention is constantly drawn to the most peculiar items—a jar of glowing fireflies, a mysterious-looking mask, a book with a tattered cover. He's like a child in a candy store, his curiosity endless and infectious.

Eventually, the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the bustling market. Satoru suggests grabbing dinner at a nearby ramen shop, and you eagerly agree.

As you sit across from each other, slurping noodles and sharing laughs, you can't help but feel grateful for moments like these—simple yet unforgettable, filled with love and laughter. With Satoru by your side, every day is an adventure worth savouring.

Suguru Geto

Mysterious Dates: Suguru is not one to reveal everything about himself easily, so dates with him might involve a lot of mystery and surprise. He enjoys keeping you on your toes, planning unexpected outings or adventures that make every moment with him thrilling.

Intellectual Conversations: Geto is highly intelligent and well-read, so conversations with him are never dull. Whether you're discussing philosophy, literature, or the latest supernatural phenomena, he always has something insightful to contribute and enjoys engaging with your ideas and perspectives.

Dark Sense of Humor: Geto's humor tends to be on the darker side, often laced with sarcasm and wit. He appreciates someone who can match his dry humor and isn't easily offended by his sometimes macabre jokes.

Protective Nature: Despite his aloof exterior, Suguru cares deeply for those he's close to, and he's fiercely protective of his loved ones. He'll go to great lengths to ensure your safety and well-being, even if it means putting himself in danger.

Occasional Disappearances: As someone involved in the dangerous world of curses and sorcery, Suguru may occasionally have to disappear for extended periods to deal with supernatural threats. While it can be worrying, you understand that it comes with the territory and eagerly await his return, knowing he'll always come back to you.

Emotional Walls: Suguru has his fair share of emotional baggage, and he's not always quick to open up about his feelings. It takes time and patience to earn his trust, but once you do, you'll find a deeply caring and loyal partner beneath his stoic facade.

Romantic Gestures with a Twist: Geto may not be the most conventional romantic, but he has his own way of showing affection. Whether it's leaving cryptic messages for you to decipher or surprising you with a carefully curated selection of dark poetry, his gestures always come with an air of mystery and intrigue.

Drabble: You sit across from Suguru at a dimly lit cafe, the ambient chatter around you blending with the soft jazz music playing in the background. His piercing gaze flickers over the menu, lips quirking into a faint smirk as he considers his options. You watch him, captivated by the way his mind works, always calculating, always one step ahead.

When he finally looks up, his eyes meet yours, a hint of amusement dancing within them. "What do you recommend?" he asks, voice low and smooth like velvet.

You suggest a specialty coffee, and he nods, signaling the waiter with a subtle gesture. As you wait for your drinks, conversation flows effortlessly between you, shifting from mundane topics to the esoteric mysteries that both fascinate and haunt Suguru's world.

He leans in closer, his breath brushing against your skin as he confides in you, sharing glimpses of his past, his fears, his hopes. It's a rare moment of vulnerability, one that you cherish, knowing that he trusts you enough to let you in.

When the coffee arrives, Suguru takes a slow sip, savoring the rich aroma before meeting your gaze once more. "Thank you," he murmurs, a genuine warmth softening his usually guarded expression.

In that moment, you realize how much he means to you, how his enigmatic presence has woven itself into the fabric of your life. You reach across the table to brush your fingers against his and he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers with a small quirk of his lips.

Kento Nanami

Loyalty Above All: Nanami values loyalty immensely, so in a relationship, he's the epitome of a faithful partner. Once he commits, he's all in, prioritizing his partner's happiness and well-being.

Reserved Affection: While Nanami might not be overtly affectionate in public, he shows his love through thoughtful gestures and actions. It could be something as simple as making your favorite meal after a long day or leaving little notes around the house.

Understanding and Respect: He's someone who deeply respects his partner's independence and space. He understands the importance of individual growth and encourages you to pursue your passions and dreams.

Quality Time: Despite his busy schedule, Nanami makes a concerted effort to spend quality time with his partner. Whether it's a quiet evening at home or a spontaneous weekend getaway, he cherishes these moments together.

Shared Interests: Nanami appreciates having common interests with his partner, whether it's enjoying a good book together, going on hikes, or simply binge-watching your favorite shows.

Trust and Communication: Trust and communication are non-negotiables for Nanami. He believes in open and honest dialogue, discussing any concerns or issues that may arise in the relationship calmly and respectfully.

Sense of Humor: Despite his serious demeanor, Nanami has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard. He loves sharing witty banter and inside jokes with his partner, finding joy in those little moments of laughter.

Supportive Partner: Nanami is your biggest cheerleader, always there to support you through life's ups and downs. Whether you're facing challenges at work or personal struggles, he's by your side, offering guidance and encouragement.

Surprising Romantic: While he may not be the most overtly romantic person, Nanami has his moments of surprising you with heartfelt gestures or unexpected romantic outings, showing that he truly cares and appreciates you.

Security and Stability: In Nanami's arms, you feel a sense of security and stability. His calm and composed demeanor serves as an anchor, providing you with the reassurance that no matter what happens, you have each other's backs.

Drabble: As you walk through the bustling streets, the weight of the day's stress begins to lift at the mere thought of returning home to Kento Nanami. The door creaks open, revealing the comforting glow of the living room lamp, casting soft shadows against the walls.

"Welcome back," his voice, warm and soothing, washes over you as you step inside. His presence alone brings a sense of calm, grounding you in the present moment.

You watch as he sets aside his paperwork, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. It's a silent invitation, one that you eagerly accept as you join him on the couch.

In the quiet intimacy of the evening, you find solace in each other's company. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly as if they were made to fit together. There's no need for words; his touch speaks volumes, conveying a depth of affection that words could never capture.

As you rest your head against his shoulder, you feel a sense of belonging wash over you, a feeling that this is where you're meant to be. In this moment, surrounded by his love, you realize that home isn't a place—it's the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the unwavering presence of Kento Nanami by your side.

Choso Kamo

Protective Nature: Choso is fiercely protective of his loved ones. When in a relationship, he would prioritize the safety and well-being of his partner above all else. Expect him to always have your back in any situation, whether it's fighting curses or dealing with everyday challenges.

Reserved yet Affectionate: Choso may come off as aloof or distant at first, but once he opens up to you, his affection knows no bounds. He expresses his love through subtle gestures, like cooking your favorite meals or silently watching over you when you sleep.

Deep Conversations: Choso is not one for small talk. He prefers deep, meaningful conversations where both partners can share their inner thoughts and feelings. Whether it's discussing philosophy, the mysteries of life, or simply sharing personal stories, he values intellectual stimulation in a relationship.

Physical Affection: Despite his stoic demeanor, Choso craves physical affection from his partner. He may not initiate it often, but he appreciates moments of closeness, whether it's holding hands, cuddling, or sharing a comforting hug after a long day.

Respectful of Boundaries: Choso respects boundaries and understands the importance of personal space. He won't pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with and will always communicate openly about his own needs and boundaries.

Adventurous Spirit: Dating Choso means embarking on thrilling adventures together. Whether it's exploring new places, trying exotic foods, or facing dangerous curses, he enjoys the excitement of discovering the unknown with his partner by his side.

Loyalty and Devotion: Once Choso commits to a relationship, he is fiercely loyal and devoted. He values honesty and integrity, and expects the same from his partner. Trust is paramount in his eyes, and he will do everything in his power to uphold it.

Emotional Support: Choso may not always know the right words to say, but he's a great listener and offers unwavering emotional support. Whether you're celebrating successes or facing hardships, he'll be there to lend a comforting shoulder to lean on.

Drabble: As you stroll through the bustling streets of the city, Choso walks quietly beside you, his presence both calming and reassuring. The neon lights illuminate the night, casting a soft glow upon his stoic features. You steal a glance at him, marvelling at the way his eyes gleam with a quiet intensity.

"Have you ever been to this part of town before?" you ask, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

Choso shakes his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "No, but I'm enjoying exploring it with you."

His words warm your heart, and you find yourself drawn to him even more. As you continue your journey through the labyrinth of streets, you can't help but feel grateful for this moment, for the simple joy of being by his side.

Suddenly, a gust of wind sends a flurry of cherry blossoms swirling around you, creating a magical spectacle of pink petals dancing in the air. Choso reaches out and catches one, his hand closing around it gently.

"For luck," he murmurs, sliding the flower into your hair.

You blush, feeling a surge of warmth spread through you at the simple gesture. In that moment, you realize how lucky you are to have Choso in your life

Ryomen Sukuna

Protective Nature: Dating Sukuna means having someone fiercely protective by your side. He may not openly admit it, but he's always keeping a close eye on your surroundings, ensuring your safety without you even realizing it.

Unexpected Gentleness: Despite his fierce reputation, Sukuna has moments of unexpected gentleness reserved only for you. Whether it's a soft touch, a tender word, or a protective arm around your shoulders, he shows his affection in subtle but meaningful ways.

Adventure Seeker: Sukuna isn't one to shy away from adventure, and dating him means embarking on thrilling journeys together. Whether it's exploring ancient ruins, seeking out powerful adversaries, or simply wandering through the wilderness, every moment with him is an exhilarating experience.

Shared Secrets: As someone with a complex past and deep-seated secrets, Sukuna doesn't open up easily. However, as your relationship grows, he begins to trust you with pieces of his past, sharing intimate details and vulnerabilities that he hides from the rest of the world.

Fiery Passion: Passionate doesn't even begin to describe Sukuna's intensity in both love and war. When it comes to you, his passion blazes like wildfire, consuming everything in its path. From heated arguments to fiery embraces, every moment with him is electrifying.

Balancing Act: Dating Sukuna requires a delicate balance between his human and demonic sides. While his demonic nature can be intimidating, his human side craves love and companionship. You find yourself navigating the complexities of both, knowing that even the slightest misstep could have dire consequences.

Mutual Growth: Despite his centuries of existence, Sukuna is still capable of growth and change, especially with you by his side. As you navigate the ups and downs of your relationship, you both learn from each other, evolving and becoming better versions of yourselves in the process.

Unwavering Loyalty: Once you earn Sukuna's loyalty and affection, you have it for life. He may be ruthless to his enemies, but he's fiercely loyal to those he cares about. Knowing that he would do anything to protect you gives you a sense of security like no other.

Drabble: You sit beside Sukuna, watching the flames dance in the darkness. His presence is both comforting and electrifying, his aura tinged with a dangerous allure that draws you in like a moth to a flame.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," he remarks, his voice low and rumbling like distant thunder.

You glance at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Just enjoying the moment," you reply, leaning into his warmth.

His gaze softens, a rare tenderness flickering in those crimson eyes. Without a word, he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders protectively.

In that moment, surrounded by darkness and danger, you find solace in his embrace. With Sukuna by your side, you know that no matter what challenges may come, you'll face them together, bound by an unbreakable bond forged in fire and passion.

Toji Fushiguro

Quiet Moments: Despite his rough exterior, Toji enjoys quiet moments too. You'll often find yourselves enjoying peaceful evenings together, maybe watching the sunset or stargazing. These moments allow him to open up in his own way, sharing thoughts and stories he might not otherwise.

Late Night Talks: Despite his busy schedule, Toji cherishes the quiet moments he gets to spend with you. Late at night, when the rest of the world is asleep, he'll open up about his past, his dreams, and his fears, trusting you with his deepest thoughts and feelings.

Cooking Together: Toji might not be a master chef, but he enjoys cooking together with you. Expect lots of experimentation in the kitchen, with varying degrees of success. Even if the meal doesn't turn out perfectly, the experience of working together and laughing over mishaps is what matters most.

Protective Nature: Toji's protective instincts run deep. He'll always prioritize your safety and well-being, sometimes to the point of being overly cautious. While it can be frustrating at times, you appreciate knowing that he always has your back.

Surprising Affection: Toji may not be the most outwardly affectionate person, but he has his ways of showing you he cares. Whether it's a gentle touch, a stolen kiss when he thinks no one's looking, or a thoughtful gesture that catches you off guard, his love for you is undeniable.

Equal Partners: Toji sees you as his equal in every way, and he'll treat you as such. He'll never belittle your achievements or dismiss your ambitions, and he'll always support you in pursuing your goals, no matter how big or small they may be.

Respecting Independence: Toji respects your independence and values your individuality. He'll never try to change you or smother you with constant attention. Instead, he encourages you to pursue your passions and dreams, offering his support every step of the way.

Blunt Honesty: Toji is known for his straightforwardness, and that doesn't change in a relationship. He'll always tell you exactly what's on his mind, even if it's not what you want to hear. But his honesty also means you'll never have to second-guess where you stand with him.

Unconventional Romance: Your relationship with Toji is anything but conventional, and you wouldn't have it any other way. From his blunt honesty to his unexpected gestures of affection, every moment with him is an adventure filled with surprises and excitement.

Drabble: You're sitting together on the rooftop of your apartment building, the city lights twinkling below like a sea of stars. Toji's leaning against the railing, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The night air is cool against your skin, but his presence beside you radiates warmth.

"You ever think about the future?" he asks, his voice low and contemplative.

You tilt your head, studying his profile in the dim light. "Sometimes," you admit. "But right now, I'm just happy to be here with you."

Toji quirks an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Smooth talker," he teases, but there's a hint of fondness in his tone.

You reach out and gently bump your shoulder against his. "Seriously though," you say softly. "As long as I'm with you, the future doesn't seem so scary."

For a moment, Toji is silent, his gaze softening as he looks at you. Then, he stubs out his cigarette and turns to face you fully, his hand finding yours in the darkness.

"Guess we'll just have to take it one day at a time," he says, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Together."

Yuta Okkotsu

Protective Nature: Yuta is fiercely protective of those he cares about. He'll always have your back in any situation, whether it's a dangerous cursed spirit encounter or just offering emotional support during tough times.

Adventurous Spirit: Yuta loves to explore and try new things, so dates with him would often involve exciting adventures like hiking in the mountains, exploring hidden shrines, or trying out exotic cuisines at hole-in-the-wall restaurants.

Gentle and Considerate: Despite his tough exterior and his past struggles, Yuta is incredibly gentle and considerate towards his partner. He'll always listen to your thoughts and feelings, and he'll go out of his way to make you feel loved and appreciated.

Shared Interests: Yuta is a big fan of movies, especially horror films, so movie nights with him would be a common occurrence. You'll find yourselves curled up on the couch together, popcorn in hand, watching your favorite films or discovering new ones.

Training Together: Yuta takes his training as a sorcerer very seriously, and he'd love to share that part of his life with you. You might find yourselves practicing martial arts together or studying curses and exorcism techniques side by side.

Supportive Partner: Yuta understands the weight of carrying burdens, and he'll always be there to support you through yours. Whether it's helping you overcome your fears or chasing your dreams, he'll be your biggest cheerleader every step of the way.

Quiet Moments: While Yuta enjoys thrilling adventures, he also cherishes quiet moments spent together. Whether it's sitting together under the stars, taking a leisurely stroll through a park, or simply cuddling up together on the couch, he treasures these peaceful moments with you.

Unwavering Loyalty: Once Yuta commits to a relationship, he's in it for the long haul. You can always count on his unwavering loyalty and dedication, knowing that he'll stand by your side through thick and thin.

Surprises: Yuta might not always be the most vocal about his feelings, but he shows his love in thoughtful gestures and surprises. Whether it's leaving little notes for you to find or planning spontaneous weekend getaways, he's always finding ways to make you feel special.

Growing Together: Yuta believes in growing and evolving together as a couple. He's open to communication and compromise, always striving to strengthen your bond and build a future together filled with love and happiness.

Drabble: As you sit together in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows across the walls, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Yuta's arm is draped around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you both watch a suspenseful horror movie. Despite the tension on the screen, you feel safe and secure in his embrace.

Every now and then, Yuta steals a glance at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. You catch his gaze and share a smile, a silent exchange that speaks volumes. In moments like these, words seem unnecessary. It's the quiet comfort of being together that matters most.

As the movie reaches its climax, you find yourself instinctively leaning into Yuta, seeking solace in his presence. He tightens his hold around you, offering silent reassurance. And in that simple gesture, you realize how lucky you are to have him by your side.

Yuji Itadori

Food Lover: Yuji has a huge appetite and loves trying different foods. He'd enjoy taking you to his favourite food spots and would always be open to trying new cuisines together. Expect lots of foodie adventures and maybe even some friendly competitions to see who can finish their meal first! (Spoiler alert: it's never you unless he lets you win)

Supportive Partner: Despite his tough exterior, Yuji is incredibly caring and supportive. He'd always be there for you, whether you need someone to listen to your problems or just want a shoulder to lean on. He's a great listener and would go out of his way to make you feel loved and supported.

Training Buddies: Yuji takes his training seriously, and he'd love having you by his side as his training partner. Whether it's hitting the gym, going for runs, or practicing martial arts together, you'd both push each other to become stronger physically and mentally.

Goofy and Playful: Yuji has a playful side and loves goofing around. He'd enjoy teasing you in a lighthearted way and would always be up for silly antics and inside jokes. His infectious laughter and cheerful personality would make every moment spent together full of joy and laughter.

Protective Nature: As a Jujutsu Sorcerer, Yuji has a strong sense of justice and a desire to protect others. He'd prioritize your safety above all else and would do whatever it takes to keep you out of harm's way. Knowing that he's always looking out for you would make you feel safe and cherished.

Heart of Gold: Despite facing many hardships in his life, Yuji remains kind-hearted and optimistic. He'd always see the best in you and would love you unconditionally. His sincerity and warmth would melt your heart, and being with him would make you feel truly cherished and valued.

Drabble: As you stroll through the bustling streets, Yuji's hand finds yours, fingers intertwining naturally. His infectious energy radiates, filling the air with excitement.

"You hungry?" he grins, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Without waiting for an answer, he leads you to a cozy ramen joint he's been raving about. Inside, the aroma of savory broth and spices envelops you, and you can't help but smile at Yuji's enthusiasm.

As you slurp noodles and share laughs, you realize how effortless it feels to be with him. His presence is comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold day. You find yourself drawn to his kindness, his unwavering optimism.

Later, as the sun sets and the city lights twinkle like stars, Yuji takes your hand again, his touch gentle yet reassuring. In this moment, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city, you feel a sense of peace, knowing that wherever life takes you, Yuji will be there, holding your hand every step of the way.

Megumi Fushiguro

Reserved Affection: Megumi might not always be the most expressive verbally, but he shows his affection through small, subtle gestures. Expect random acts of kindness like making you tea or remembering your favorite snacks.

Quiet Understanding: He's a great listener. Megumi may not always offer advice right away, but he'll listen intently to whatever is on your mind, and when he does speak, it's often profound and thoughtful.

Adventurous Spirit: Despite his serious demeanor, Megumi enjoys exploring new places and trying new things. He might surprise you with impromptu trips to quaint cafes or hiking trails on weekends.

Protective Nature: Megumi takes his role as your partner seriously and will go to great lengths to ensure your safety and well-being. He might not show it overtly, but he's always watching out for you.

Shared Interests: He appreciates having common interests but also respects your individuality. Whether it's a shared love for animals, literature, or martial arts, he enjoys bonding over mutual passions.

Balanced Independence: Megumi values his independence and understands the importance of giving you space to grow and pursue your own interests. He's supportive and encouraging of your personal goals and aspirations.

Trust and Loyalty: Once you earn Megumi's trust, he's fiercely loyal. He values honesty and integrity in a relationship and expects the same in return.

Emotional Depths: While Megumi may appear stoic on the surface, he has deep emotional complexities. He's not afraid to open up to you about his fears, dreams, and vulnerabilities, trusting you with his innermost thoughts.

Comfortable Silence: Sometimes, the most comfortable moments with Megumi are the ones spent in silence, just enjoying each other's presence without the need for constant conversation.

Slow-Burning Romance: Megumi's love is steady and enduring. It may take time for him to fully express his feelings, but when he does, it's genuine and unwavering. He's in it for the long haul.

Drabble: You stand beside Megumi Fushiguro, his quiet presence both comforting and intimidating. The sun sets, casting a golden glow over his dark hair and serious eyes. You try to catch his gaze, but he’s focused on the horizon, deep in thought. There’s a certain stillness to him, a calm that makes your heart race and your thoughts scatter.

“Megumi,” you say softly, almost afraid to break the silence. He turns to you, his expression softening just a bit. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. For a moment, he hesitates, then his hand closes around yours, warm and reassuring.

“Let’s stay a little longer,” he murmurs, his voice low but filled with something you can’t quite name. You nod, squeezing his hand gently. In this fleeting moment, under the fading light, everything feels right. You don’t need words to know that he feels it too.

Toge Inumaki

Communicative Gestures: Toge uses a mix of hand signals, notes, and texts to communicate with you, and over time, you become fluent in his unique language. A simple tap on your shoulder or a gentle squeeze of your hand speaks volumes.

Protective Streak: Despite his calm demeanor, Toge is incredibly protective of you. His cursed speech is a last resort, but he won’t hesitate to use it if you’re in danger. He’s always watching over you, ensuring you’re safe.

Quiet Comfort: You two enjoy a lot of quiet moments together. Whether it’s cuddling while watching a movie or sitting in a café reading books, Toge’s presence is soothing, and you find peace in these silent moments.

Thoughtful Surprises: Toge loves surprising you with little gifts and notes. He might leave a flower on your desk, a favorite snack in your bag, or a sweet note with a simple “Salmon” to brighten your day.

Cooking Together: He enjoys cooking with you, using his knowledge of food to whip up delicious meals. You bond over trying new recipes, and he loves seeing the smile on your face when you taste something new and delicious.

Supportive Partner: Toge is always supportive of your dreams and ambitions. He listens attentively when you talk about your goals and offers silent encouragement through his actions and expressions.

Playful Side: Though he often seems serious, Toge has a playful side that he shows only to you. He enjoys teasing you gently, making you laugh with his quirky sense of humor.

Shared Training: You train together, and Toge teaches you techniques to improve your skills. These sessions bring you closer, and you appreciate his patience and dedication.

Protective Hugs: Toge’s hugs are tight and reassuring. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a way that makes you feel safe and cherished. Drabble: You sit beside Toge Inumaki on the grassy hill overlooking the city. The sun is setting, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. Toge hands you a bento box he prepared, filled with your favorite foods. His eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief, and you can’t help but smile.

“Salmon,” he says softly, his way of telling you to enjoy the meal. You take a bite, savoring the flavors, and he watches you with a contented expression.

You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. He responds with a light squeeze back, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with unspoken words and shared understanding.

He pulls out a small notebook and writes something, then shows it to you: "Beautiful evening, beautiful you." Your heart swells at his words, and you lean in, resting your head on his shoulder.

Together, you watch as the stars begin to appear, one by one. In this quiet moment, you feel completely at peace, knowing that Toge is by your side, silently loving you in his own special way.

SPECIAL ADDITION: Maki Zenin

Training Together: Maki values strength and skill, so training sessions together become a regular part of your relationship. She pushes you to your limits, but also knows when to offer encouragement and praise.

Tough Love: Maki has a tough exterior, but she shows her affection through small acts of care. She might grumble while bandaging your wounds after a tough fight, but her touch is always gentle.

Competitive Streak: She’s fiercely competitive, and you often find yourselves in playful contests, whether it’s sparring, running races, or even silly games. The banter that ensues is always light-hearted and fun.

Supportive Partner: Maki is incredibly supportive of your goals and dreams. She understands the importance of fighting for what you believe in and stands by your side through thick and thin.

Protective Nature: Maki’s protective nature means she’s always watching out for you. She won’t tolerate anyone who disrespects or threatens you, and she’s quick to step in if needed.

Soft Moments: Despite her tough demeanor, Maki has a soft side that she shows only to you. Quiet moments together, like watching the stars or simply holding hands, are when she lets her guard down.

Cooking Together: Maki enjoys cooking with you, though she’s more practical than creative in the kitchen. She loves seeing you happy, especially when you’re enjoying a meal you made together.

Shared Interests: You bond over shared interests, whether it’s training, strategizing, or discussing the latest mission. Your conversations are always engaging and meaningful.

Genuine Laughter: Maki has a dry sense of humor, and you cherish the moments when you make her genuinely laugh. Her laughter is rare but precious, and it makes your heart swell with joy.

Affectionate Gestures: Maki isn’t big on public displays of affection, but in private, she’s more affectionate. She enjoys holding you close, resting her head on your shoulder, and stealing kisses when no one’s looking.

Drabble: You find yourself sparring with Maki under the dappled light filtering through the dojo’s windows. She moves with precision, her every step calculated, her eyes never leaving yours. You’re out of breath, but you push yourself to keep up, driven by her relentless determination.

“Come on, you can do better,” she taunts, a smirk playing on her lips. There’s a challenge in her gaze, but also an undeniable warmth.

You manage to land a hit, and her eyes widen with surprise before she grins, a rare and genuine smile. “That’s more like it,” she says, her voice softer now.

After the session, you both collapse onto the mats, breathless and laughing. Maki’s laughter is a sound you cherish, rare and beautiful. She reaches over, her hand finding yours, fingers intertwining. The callouses on her palm are a testament to her strength and dedication.

“You’re getting better,” she murmurs, her tone filled with pride. You squeeze her hand, feeling a rush of warmth at her words.

“Thanks to you,” you reply, meeting her gaze. There’s a moment of silence, charged with unspoken emotions, and then she leans in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your lips.

“Let’s keep pushing each other,” she says, determination and affection mingling in her eyes. You nod, knowing that with Maki by your side, you can face anything.

#jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smau #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #toji x reader #megumi x reader #yuta x reader #yuji x reader #toge x reader #maki x reader

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elithe31st · 1 year ago

Note

could you possibly write a fic where in in total drama world tour either Alejandro or Noah’s s/o gets injured doing a dare or something. Like they nearly fall out of a plane or a high building 💀 ty sorry if that is too strange

MY YOUTH GENERATION

alejandro burromuerto x gn reader

'' i swear you're giving me a heart attack, troublemaker ''

He thought it was stupid.

He thought everything these idiots did, except you, was stupid.

So, why we're you doing this?

"Amor, I had thought you were better than this." Alejandro scolds, crossing his arms.

"Trust me, I'm not gonna die. Besides, Duncan's got me. Right, Duncan?" You looked behind you, Duncan just giving you a toothy smile and a thumbs up.

Your team was currently in economy class, headed off to...wherever. You stood by the wood-patched hole in the side of the plane, a rope tied around your waist. You and Duncan said it was an 'elimination simulator'. Basically, skydiving without the diving part. Alejandro was worried, scared, frightened. He was already scared about losing the last challenge, but now possibly losing you? It wouldn't do.

"You ready, (Name)?" Duncan says, grabbing the extra rope and securing it around his hands.

"Yes!" You said. Alejandro was about to protest, but then the wood flew off, and you slipped, scraping your hand on a nail and falling off with a scream. Duncan panicked, tugging at the rope. Alejandro ran over, grabbed your non-cut hand, and pulled you up into his arms, getting both of you away from the hole.

"Holy shit." Duncan said, breathing through his mouth.

"That..."

"Was so awesome!" You laughed, and Duncan laughed along, giving you a high-five. Alejandro sighed.

"No, not awesome. Let's get you patched up." He shook his head, untying the knot. He kissed the cut hand's palm, leading you off to the bathroom because god knows he isn't getting tetanus. Of course, he loves you, but not that much to get a disease over.

Duncan went and put the rope back, going over to talk to Chef about the hole.

In the bathrooms, you sat on the sink while Alejandro patched up your hand.

"You mad?" You ask him, looking down as he works on your hand.

"Asunto, mi amor, asunto." He tsks, shaking his head.

"I don't know what that means, babe." You say, kissing his cheek after he finishes up.

"Concern. I don't like you getting hurt, you know." He leans against the sink, kissing your bandaged hand.

"I would hope not." You chuckle. "I thought it would be fun. And it was. You should totally try out our simulator some time."

"There is no way I'm letting Duncan have my life in the palm of his hands." Alejandro sighs.

"Come on, he isn't that bad." You roll your eyes.

"...You're kidding me, right?"

#total drama x reader #total drama island #td #tdi #alejandro burromuerto x reader #alejandro burromuerto

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scuttling · 2 years ago

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Flicker in the Dark - Jacob Black/Reader

Fandom: Twilight Saga Pairings: Jacob Black/Female Reader Word Count: 12,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Pining, Unprotected sex, Slightly aged up (Jacob is 20), Fix it fic Summary: My take on New Moon, if all of the characters were a bit more mature and Jacob got his girl. A/N: This is a third-person story that pairs Jacob with a girl who isn't Bella but who fills her role in the story; Bella doesn't exist in this universe because I find she's not as interesting to write as an original character, for me personally. The character has no name and no physical description, so treat her as an OC or a "reader," your choice there. :)

Keep reading below or link to AO3!

Bringing the idea of fixing the bikes to Jacob was the best thing she’s ever done: the best, and one of the dumbest, by far.

They both have adult obligations now—she has class, and a part-time job, which are thankfully both online, and Jake works full time—so when the stars align and they’re free at the same time, they spend every moment in his garage like a couple of bored kids. They listen to music on his dad’s old radio, eat pizza and tacos standing up much more often than they should; Jacob isn’t twenty-one just yet, but they’re on the rez, so they sip beers sometimes, especially on the rare warm days where the sun shines into the garage and sweat prickles at their hairlines.

He’s taller at twenty than he was when he was younger, broader and more filled out, like he’d said back on her birthday; she notices, sometimes, things like the tightness of his t-shirts stretched across his back, the way his jeans fit just, extraordinarily well. Those kinds of things you can’t help but notice, even if you’re emotionally, physically, and mentally unavailable, the way she is.

He pokes fun at her age—forever a sore spot, especially when Edward is and will be twenty-two forever—but she catches him noticing her, too, sometimes, so she’s not a total embarrassment at least.

It doesn’t happen right away, like magic or anything, but hanging out in his garage does make her feel better; he makes her feel better, if she’s being honest with herself. He quiets the chatter in her brain, the anxiety, the self-doubt, and she smiles more when she’s with him, laughs more, gets out of her own head. She’s happier when she’s with him, too, bikes or no bikes—though the roar of the restored motorcycle engine certainly doesn’t hurt—and he’s good for her, there’s no denying that.

She remembers her dad’s advice, even more meaningful now that she’s moved out of his house and living on her own—sometimes, you gotta learn to love what’s good for you—and she even thinks she could, some days.

That’s easy enough to say to herself, but so, so much harder in practice. She can tell Jacob is… interested, when they go to the movies, with the way he lays his hand on the armrest, palm up, in case she wants to hold it. Part of her wants to, really wants to; part just thinks about Edward and she clams up, can’t do it. She feels guilty, like she’s doing something wrong, even though he left her and not the other way around.

She still loves him, will always love him, but Edward made his choice; she just wishes she felt free enough to make her own.

She feels guilty when they ride, too, because the one thing he’d asked of her was not to be reckless, and now she goes out of her way to find a rush wherever she can. Anything legal, be it motorcycles, rock climbing, running, skydiving, really, really big roller coasters—you name it, she’s done it, and though none of it ever worked as well as she’d hoped it would, she never stops trying.

She knows better than to give herself over to things like drugs or binge drinking or meaningless one-night stands, but aside from that the limits to what she will try are almost non-existent. She loves the thrill of it all, loves feeling brave, feeling strong; In the end, she may wind up with a few cuts and bruises, but as long as she’s hurting no one but herself, she doesn’t feel too bad.

When she hurts Jacob, she feels awful, terrible, and she does hurt him—he’s so hurt for a while that he doesn’t want to see her, doesn’t even return her calls. She feels weak for the first time in a long time, like if she’d just been able to be what he wanted, to hold his hand, to kiss him, to get over herself, they both would have been happier. Now she just feels sad, and selfish, hurting the one person who has always been there for her, who’s always eased her pain.

She wants to respect his space, can’t bear the thought of hurting him more than she already has, but her anxiety gets the better of her; no amount of kickboxing or rock climbing has been able to take her mind off of him since that night at the movies, when he left in such a hurry. Even Edward has shifted to the back of her mind, though she has no idea when exactly that happened.

So she goes to him. Against his wishes. In the pouring rain.

She’s so, so stupid.

He’s so, so shredded, even more so than usual; it’s the first thing she notices only because he’s soaking wet and shirtless and that makes it pretty obvious. The second thing she notices is his hair, no longer long and pulled back with a cord of leather, but cropped short, though inky black as always. The third thing she notices is the tattoo, a large, tribal design on his shoulder that looks well-healed even though she saw him less than a week ago.

She catalogs all of that, and then she remembers he’s avoiding her and that she’s here to ask for forgiveness (she’s willing to beg, but it’s sort of a last resort.)

She calls his name, but he doesn’t turn around at first, not until she’s right in front of him, fists balled angrily at her sides.

“Jacob, I’m sorry… I’m sorry about the movie. Can we talk about it?” He huffs an unamused laugh, takes half a step closer; that kind of thing used to be playful, but now it seems almost menacing, between the muscles and the tattoo and the deepening frown on his face.

“This isn’t about that. You–you need to leave. Now.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument… but then again, that’s never stopped her before. She steps closer too, more of a challenge than anything.

“Well if it’s not about that, what is it? What happened?” He turns away as if to leave and she reaches for him, fingers latching onto his wrist. She knows right away that when she tugs, and he turns, it’s because he let it happen; there’s no way anyone could force him to do anything now, not with how big he is, how strong, how solid beneath her hand. “Is it Sam? Did he get to you too?”

“I was wrong about Sam. He’s helping me through it—just like he helped the others,” he says, but it sounds odd to her ears. If something was wrong, if he’d needed help, he would have come to her… right? “I can’t do this right now—you have to go. Please go.”

Before, he was stern, but this time he’s pleading for her to leave, and that’s just not Jacob—they’d hash it out before he cut her off without so much as a word, instead of ghosting her and making his father lie for him and keeping secrets with Sam Uley.

“Jake,” she pleads too, but instead of tightening her grip on his wrist she brings her hand up to the nape of his neck, to brush through the short hair that lays there, drenched in rainwater. “Please don’t do this to me.”

He closes his eyes like it pains him, and it very well might; she knows the similarities to the night Edward left are becoming almost too much for her to bear.

Maybe that’s why she came here, after all, because she could, because at least she still knew where she could find him. Because even if he didn’t want to talk to her, at least she’d know he was okay.

“I’m not doing this to you, I’m doing it for you. I’m not who you thought I was, I’m not good for you. You can’t be around me anymore.”

Fuck that, she thinks immediately, because she is so absolutely tired of people telling her what she can and can’t do, what she’s strong enough for, what’s safe.

She doesn’t want safe. All she wants is Jacob.

“I decide what’s good for me; I decide,” she says, voice raised and rough, jabbing a finger in his direction, and he grabs both of her forearms and holds them between them. He looks like he wants to shake her, he’s so frustrated, but his grip isn’t tight. “You think you’re going to hurt me, or something? Because look at us, Jake.” Her gaze moves to his hands on her, holding her still but doing it gently, carefully. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, I know it.”

He drops her arms like she’s burned him, like he didn’t even realize he was holding them, and takes two steps back, away from her.

“You’re right, I won’t—because you can’t ever come here again.”

He turns and runs to Sam and the other guys, leaving her standing in the rain, soaked and alone, her stomach in knots. The chatter is back, the self-doubt, louder than ever now; if they could both do this, both leave her so easily, would she ever be enough for anyone?

She’s not sitting around her house moping about this, not again. She did that with Edward and it got her absolutely nowhere, so this time she resolves to just skip to the front of the line. She packs a bag for the trail and goes hiking, plans to take a long path deep into the woods, away from the bear attacks or whatever’s going on out there. Her dad would have her head if she walked headfirst into danger, and she knows better, anyway, isn’t going to actually risk her life just to get Rocky Mountain high.

She hadn’t planned on risking her life, anyway, but how was she to know the formerly peaceful Laurent was back in Forks, red eyes and all, and that he was working with Victoria? That wasn’t on her supernatural drama bingo card, that’s for damn sure.

She listens to him do the villain rambling for a moment, but irritation wins out over fear and she loses her temper, slips up and says that Edward is gone and he’s not coming back, and if he wants to kill her, well no one’s stopping him!

He looks amused by her outburst, but the smile melts off of his face when an enormous black wolf steps out of the trees, followed by several others of all shades, shapes, sizes. She doesn’t get a chance to count them, just runs like hell in the other direction, but when she risks a look back they are going after Laurent with a precision she wouldn’t expect from wild animals just looking for dinner.

She tells no one about the wolves—who would believe her anyway?—just runs back to her truck until she’s breathless, goes home and takes a steaming hot shower to rinse away the cold clamminess of his touch. She makes a cup of tea and changes into a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, then parks herself on the couch with her laptop for the rest of the night.

Until the knock at the door that comes around 1 AM.

It’s Jacob, and she’s so happy to see him that she forgets all about her day up until that point and wraps her arms around him, hugs him where he stands in the doorway. He hugs back, thank god, his embrace tight and warm and comforting, and then she ushers him in, offers to make more tea while they talk.

“About the other day,” she begins, filling the electric kettle with water and plugging it in, but he cuts her off, panicked.

“I wish I could explain,” he says, and he’s almost got those puppy dog eyes that always get him his way; he doesn’t even do it on purpose, just looks like that, and it’s incredibly hard to resist. “But I literally can’t.”

“No, I know, I… I mean, I think I know.” She has a box of tea in her hand and she’s gesturing a bit wildly with it, so she sets it on the counter, walks closer to him, so there’s about a foot of space between them. “First rule of fight club is you can’t talk about fight club—wait, it’s not an actual fight club, right? Because you’d dominate.”

He laughs, a real one, with his head thrown back, and she all but grins. There he is. Her Jacob.

“No, it’s not a fight club, but you’re right. I can’t talk about it, I can’t tell you anything.” His tone of voice hurts her, because it’s clear this is something he wants, needs to share; she moves closer, eyes on his.

“And what if I guess? Is that against the rules?” He shakes his head fervently, rests his palm on the counter beside him.

“No, no—in fact, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Sam can’t stop you, and I know you, you’re smart, won’t stop until you figure it out.” He reaches out with his other hand, tentatively, and links their fingers together like he did at the movies; when he brings their hands up to his chest, this time, she doesn’t pull away. “It would be so much easier if you knew.”

His face is so soft but so serious, his brow furrowed, and she squeezes his hand.

“I’m going to feel really silly if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I’ve been working on it all night.” With her free hand, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, shows him the same screen she has up on her laptop in the other room. It’s a list of all the facts she has, her own speculation, and finally, in size 42 font, one very important eight-letter word. “You said before that Sam was collecting disciples—a pack of them, Jacob, right?”

“Yes. Fuck,” he breathes, and though she’s heard him say it in the garage many times, this one is special because it means she’s right. He slides down to a seat on the tile floor, looks so relieved it makes her chest feel tight, and she kneels in front of him, hands on his bare shoulders.

“You’re a werewolf, Jake, just like the legend—your tribe is descended from wolves. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He doesn’t say a word, and at first she’s afraid she is incorrect, but then he reaches out and pulls her close, crushes her to his body. He breathes hard into her hair, holds her tightly, and she can’t help it, she cries, hot tears leaving tracks down her cheeks.

He brings his hands there after a moment, wipes the tears away with his thumbs, then holds her face like she’s something precious, lips turning up into a half-smile.

“Thank you. I knew you could do it.” He tips forward, presses their foreheads together, moves his hands to her waist. “You don’t know how badly I wanted you to know.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry—I should have caught on faster. It’s obvious, when you put everything together, when you… You know. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen.” He nods his head and swallows, presses his fingertips into her side. She shifts closer, or he does, maybe they both do, so their breath mixes between them, soft and warm.

“It’s okay, you’re here now. You’re here, it's okay,” he repeats, and she pushes fingers through his hair, softer now that it’s dry.

“I’m here, and I don’t have to stay away.”

They don’t quite kiss, because she’s still nervous, maybe even more so now—they were so close to being separated, and now that he’s back in her life, in her house, she doesn’t want to risk breaking this delicate, fragile thing between them. His mouth just brushes over hers, more a swipe than a press of lips, and she turns her head so the rest of it catches her cheek instead.

He sighs, but he’s not upset, and he lifts a hand to smooth through her hair before dropping it altogether.

“I should go,” he says, but she can’t bear the thought of losing him again already. She stands when he does, takes his hand the way he did before.

“Can you stay the night? Please?” She squeezes his fingers, tries her hand at her own version of those sad puppy eyes. “I understand if you can’t, but I’d feel… I want you to,” she’s clear to say, and eventually, he nods.

She makes up a bed for him on the sofa, intends to head upstairs when he’s comfortable; she doesn’t know what stops her, but she stretches out on the other end of the couch instead and they put on a movie, something black and white, volume low. She couldn’t say for sure who’s the first to fall asleep.

She’s the first to wake up, so she takes a quick shower, does some work, brews some coffee. He’ll probably head out the moment his feet hit the floor, so she prepares herself for that—she just hopes that the rest of his pack knows he’s there, that they aren’t worried, or frantically searching the preserve for signs of him like she would be.

She asks him that when he pads into the kitchen an hour later, eyes sleepy, bedhead evident, and he pours a cup of coffee and sits across from her at the table.

“Nah, they knew I was coming,” he assures with a sip. “They know by now that if they can’t find me, I’m probably here with you.” That makes her smile, though she looks down into her mug and tries not to show it. He takes a few more quick gulps despite the temperature and sets down his empty cup with a smack of his lips. “Speaking of the pack, I think you should meet them. We gather at Emily’s—that’s Sam’s fiancee—sometimes, and they’ll be there today.”

“Will they be angry that I figured it out?” she asks, genuinely curious. She wants to meet them, wants to know more about the group of guys Jacob is now supernaturally entangled with, but she’s not so sure a house of angry werewolves is somewhere she’s ready to be so soon after her last brush with death. He breathes a laugh and shakes his head.

“They won’t be angry. They’ll probably be irritated with me, because I couldn’t just let you go…” Their eyes meet, and she thinks of reaching out to touch his hand across the table, though she doesn’t in the end. “But as for you, they’ll probably just be impressed.”

The pack is both impressed by her and slightly irritated with Jacob, but stern glances and eye rolls quickly turn to laughter and playful shoving, as they pile into Emily’s small but cozy kitchen and make introductions around a batch of fresh muffins.

She gets official confirmation on things she’d only read about—like their ability to hear each other’s thoughts when shifted, the accelerated healing, their speed, their power—right from the wolves' mouths, and they learn from her too, everything she knows about vampires like Laurent and Victoria. She doesn’t talk much about the Cullens, mostly because their secrets are not hers to tell, but she can see Jacob’s brain working as she mentions Victoria’s vendetta, as she shows the group the pale, silvery bite mark on her arm.

“If she’s here, she’s here for me,” she tells them, and Jake tenses, his jaw tight, veins visible, shoots Sam a look that conveys they have a lot to talk about when she’s not around.

Later, she suggests to Jacob that he take a walk with her, because she can tell how all of those stories have put him on edge. Together they amble slowly toward the beach, close but not touching, and this time she does take his hand, leans in so their forearms brush.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at him. “You guys are strong, fast. You took down Laurent—I have no doubts you’ll get her too.”

“Before she hurts you?” he says, staring ahead, voice rough because he’s been mostly silent all day, listening closely to her and taking everything in. “Because if she does…”

“She won’t. The others are watching her,” she says, hoping like hell that’s still true, “and even if she finds me… I trust you to protect me.” He stops there, on the wet sand, and she turns toward him so she can see his expression, to get a better idea of what’s on his mind.

“If they come back, I’m not allowed to fight on their land—I’d be breaking the treaty,” he says with a pained look. She understands the words he’s not saying: if they come back, I wouldn’t be able to protect you in your own home.

“They’re not coming back,” she whispers, because she can’t say the words any louder than that, even though they’re true. “He made his choice, and that’s—that’s okay.”

“Is it?” Jacob asks, leaning in, and she gets it, gets why; she hasn’t exactly been positive about Edward’s departure, how his choice affected her, took his family away from her too, and now suddenly she’s okay with it?

It isn’t sudden, though, not really. It’s been a gradual acceptance, something she’s been coming to terms with since the day he left. She knows Edward’s decision wasn’t made easily; she knows he didn’t leave because he didn’t love her, but because he loved her so much he put aside his feelings for her and did what he thought was right.

He went about it all the wrong way, removing every trace of himself from her life, banning his family from communicating with her, taking her choices away, but in the end his heart was in the right place, and she’s found a way to respect that, despite everything.

Maybe it’s just Jacob. He brought her out of her post-breakup shell, made her smile again, laugh again, feel important and wanted and cared for. Maybe he filled in the cracks of her broken heart so she could use it again, without the need for exhilaration and adrenaline to cover up the pain of what she’s lost; maybe it’s just Jacob, bright like the sun they so seldom see, special and rare and wild.

“It’s okay,” she assures him, voice steady with her conviction. She raises their conjoined hands and presses her lips to his knuckles, just briefly, before dropping them back to her side.

Jake nods, accepts her answer, and they walk further along the beach until the sun goes down in a hazy blend of blue and orange and red.

He offers to drive her home, and even though it’s impractical, and she’d usually put up a fight, she wants that extra time with him. Wants to be that close to him. She sits in the middle of the bench seat, neither up against him nor really on the passenger’s side, but close enough for Jake to throw an arm across her shoulders, and they listen to the radio and talk about his pack while cruising down the road.

“I better go,” he murmurs before she can even unlock her front door, and she tries not to let her face fall; she’d been hoping he’d stay over again, or come inside for a little bit, at least.

She must fail at controlling her expression, because Jacob smiles softly, like he’s pleased with himself, and leans in, brushing his fingers over the line of her jaw.

“We’re patrolling tonight—got a vampire to kill. But I’ll call you tomorrow?”

She nods beneath his touch, and he pulls back and turns to leave, jogging down the street and toward the forest that’ll lead him back to La Push.

He does call the next day, but it’s brief; Victoria’s back, just as Sam expected, so they’re running all night, all day, trying to catch her off guard, taking breaks only to eat and sleep when they absolutely have to. Jacob promises to check in when he can, but after three days with no contact—and a voicemail from her father about locals spotting wolves in the woods—she’s on edge again, less concerned for her own safety, more worried about Jake’s.

She’s an absolute idiot for doing it—going to the beach, to the tall cliffs that loom over it—but she needs the rush again, doesn’t feel right when it’s just her own troubled voice in her head. She needs to hear the purr of an engine, the hum of a plane, the crashing of pure, white water against rocks… or maybe Jacob’s heartbeat. But the cliffs are the simple option at the moment, and all she can think about until she’s actually there, looking out over the ocean, the gritty scents of sand and salt in her nose.

She takes several deep, long breaths. That’s the key to these things that bring her so much excitement—using all of her senses, so she’s not just herself but everything around her too. She needs to see the sun on the horizon, taste the spray of seawater and clean, crisp air. She needs to smell the damp earth, touch the frothy bubbles that lap at the shore, hear…

She hears a wolf, actually, howling solemnly in the distance, but doesn’t register the sound until after she’s already jumped.

The waves are choppier than they’d appeared when she was looking down at them, and it knocks the breath out of her lungs when they crash into her body, pulling her down into the dark vastness of the icy sea. Her arms and legs move instinctively, fighting to bring her back to the surface, but the water is deep and heavy and she’s already so tired of trying.

She’s so cold all she can feel is cold, her teeth chattering, so even when she hits her head on a boulder and it starts to bleed, she doesn’t realize what’s happened until everything turns black.

She’s warmer, suddenly, that’s all she knows, though the ground beneath her back is rocky and wet, uncomfortable. She thinks maybe it’s a blanket that feels so warm, but quickly realizes it’s Jacob above her, soaked to his bones, a sigh of relief passing his lips.

“Oh thank god. Can you hear me?” He cradles the back of her head in his palm and helps her sit up, then presses his fingers tenderly to the sore bump beneath her hair. “Your head’s not that bad, but I bet it hurts.”

“Hmm. Hurts,” she mumbles, her throat raw, temples throbbing. She’s cold and tired and thirsty, but ashamed above all else; maybe she really does need someone making the decisions for her, if this is the kind of stupidity she gets up to when she’s alone. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he answers quickly, and he runs his hands over her arms and legs, her neck, her face, checking for further injury. “I’m just glad you’re alright. The waves are bad today; you could have been swept away.”

“I didn’t realize that until it was too late,” she admits sheepishly, and when he brings her closer she rests her cheek against his chest, feels tears stinging her already tired eyes. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”

“It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” His voice is as soft as his hands as they curve around her, holding her against him, and they sit like that for a couple minutes, until Sam runs over and tells him to get her home.

He drives again, but this time she’s even more grateful, because there’s no way she could have done it herself. She feels so much at once—dumb and scared and childish, but also brave and calm, while somehow her mind races with thoughts of the wolves howling and Jacob’s hands in her hair. Her focus is shot, and even though she’s wrapped in one of Jake’s thick, fleece lined hoodies, she trembles, heavy and cold, as she peers out the passenger side window, watching the trees go by.

“Hundred and eight degrees over here,” Jacob says eventually, with a half smile, and she blinks for a moment before giving in; with a sigh, she scoots closer, wraps an arm around his waist. She can feel the heat of his body even through the layers they wear, and she shivers involuntarily at the pleasant but abrupt change in temperature.

“You still want me this close? Not afraid the bad decisions will rub off onto you?” It’s a joke, a self-deprecating one, and an apology all bundled together. “What I did was stupid, I know. I could have gotten really hurt, and you should have been out there with the pack, with Harry, not saving me.”

He tilts his head, leans closer so his cheek rests against her hair.

“Well it wasn’t smart, but we all have our moments. And you couldn’t have known about Harry—don’t be too hard on yourself.” A long beat of silence passes, and she turns toward him, pressing her icy nose to his neck with another sigh.

“Mmm. You’re so warm. It must be nice, never getting cold.”

“It’s a wolf thing,” he says with a shrug, but it’s not, not really, and she can’t let that stand.

“Maybe, but trust me, it’s a Jacob thing too. You’ve always been warm.” She just sits there, breathes him in, lets him warm her hands and nose, so content she almost doesn’t notice when he pulls up in front of her house.

“This is better. Now that you know about me,” he says, tipping his face down, after he turns off the truck. She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, to try to gauge his intent.

“But?” He swallows hard, looks away for a moment before returning to her face.

“You saw what happened to Emily. Sam got angry, lost it for a split second, and Em was standing too close. He’ll never be able to take that back.” He shakes his head, as if imagining the two of them in the same situation. What he could do to her. What she would think of him. “What if I get mad and I hurt you?”

“You’re new to this—even if you are a natural,” she says, remembering a comment Embry had made when they’d last spoken. “You’ll learn how to control it, how to read the warning signs, and you’ll either stop yourself from turning or get somewhere safe. We’ll be okay,” she promises, resting her hand soothingly against his neck, and he sighs softly.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. Like one day it will be all wolf and no Jake.” He leans in, close enough that their noses just barely brush, and the way he looks down at her is something like…

Yearning, she thinks to herself after a beat. It’s a powerful emotion, but she’s never seen it look quite so beautiful before.

“You’re not going to lose yourself. I won’t let that happen.”

“How?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cover hers, and she wets her lips, shakes her head to clear it; it’s swimming again, in this small space, so very close to him—especially when he’s looking at her like that.

“I’ll tell you all the time… how special you are to me.” She looks up, feels like she’s showing her soul to him, like this incident has stripped her down to bare bones and she’s letting him see her, once and for all. He stares into her eyes for a long moment, then leans in slowly, tentatively, and this time she doesn’t stop herself from meeting him in the middle, from pressing her mouth to his.

She can actually feel the relief wash over him when she doesn’t reject his kiss, like he’s been tightly coiled and tense and can finally relax because she wants the same things, feels the same way.

She expects his lips to be warm, soft, but he is scorching against her skin, even more so when he moves his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress. With the palm against his hip, she pushes up his t-shirt, gets her fingers on his body, and they both gasp softly into the kiss, deepen it.

“Jacob,” she sighs when they part for air; he seems okay, if a little shaky, but she feels flushed, eager, almost vibrating with the need to keep kissing him. She wants more, even though her throat burns like the last time his lips touched hers, when he forced the water out of her lungs and saved her life.

That’s what he does best, her Jacob—like a flicker in the dark, he always pulls her away from the dangers of her own making and brings her back into the light.

“Is this real?” he asks, his breath a ghost on her lips; his other hand, on her lower back, pulls her closer to his body, and she turns her head and kisses the palm resting on her cheek.

They kiss again, hands a bit less careful, hers sliding up his back, his weaving into her hair to control the tilt of her head. She gives in to it all, lets him set the pace, gripping him like a life preserver and letting his heat warm her from the inside out. She feels like she can’t get possibly close enough, wants to be pressed skin to skin, but she settles for sliding into his lap, ducking her head so she doesn’t hit it on the metal roof of the truck.

He groans as she twists fingers into his hair, as she pulls him into her and feels the long, hard line of his body against hers. She kisses faster, harder, and he matches her fervor, wraps an arm around her waist and catches her chin with tight fingers.

They kiss for a long time, and the cabin heats, windows fogging up as they share breath and saliva, as they murmur each other’s names like prayer. Her lips are red and raw when she finally needs to pause, and she rests her head against his chest and listens to the thunderous, wild beating of his heart.

“Will you stay the night? Please?” she asks, voice a little broken—rough with need, and soreness from nearly drowning, and breathlessness caused by the most intense kiss of her entire life.

Jacob nods, and he sets her carefully back on the seat, removes the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the truck. She slides out behind him, and he closes the door, takes her hand in his just like she did on the beach.

He locks the front door behind them when they’re finally inside—as if that will stop anyone we need to worry about, she teases with a soft laugh—and she takes the lead, walks up the stairs toward her bedroom with Jacob trailing behind.

Despite his surreal body heat and the thick, warm sweatshirt he’d given her to wear, she’s still cold down to her bones, and wet like a drowned rat, so she pulls off her shoes and socks and sets them down by the radiator. Jacob watches her every move from a couple steps away, eyes lingering as she shrugs out of his hoodie, then pulls her damp sweater over her head.

There’s nothing sexy or seductive about it, it’s not a striptease by any means, but he doesn’t look away when she’s down to her bra, and she doesn’t want him to. He bends down to take off his boots, to line them up next to hers, then bridges the distance between them and leans in for a deep, slow kiss.

It’s not long before they both sink down onto the bed, and her fingers slip open the button of her jeans, then hesitate, wait at the button of his. She looks up at him, and the confirmation is all but written there, in the darkness of his eyes, the swipe of his tongue over his lips, but she needs to be sure.

“I want you, all of you,” she murmurs, and then she brushes a hand through his hair, leans in to just rest her mouth against his. It’s delicate like the first time, but full of meaning, and he presses up into her kiss. “Do you want this?”

“I want this. You. All—all of you.” He nods, licks his lips again, eyes softer but no less hungry, and she flicks open the button and kisses him like she did in the truck: hands on his body, in his hair, her breath all his.

They don’t part, not really, just fall back against the pillows and tug at clothing, pressing kisses to throats and palms. His t-shirt drops to the bedroom floor, then her jeans and underwear, his, and the room is quiet except for the sounds of eager, wet kisses and soft, needy moans.

She sits up, reaches back to unclasp her bra, and Jacob drags the strap down her shoulder, helps her take it off, leaving it somewhere in the bed; his mouth moves to hers, then down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally caresses each nipple with a gentle reverence that makes her ache all over.

“You’re still sure?” he asks when she is shaking beneath his touch, strong arms wrapped around her back, and she nods and shifts up into his lap.

When their lips meet, the kiss is hard, and she curls an arm around his shoulders, weaving a hand into his hair. They’re both panting when she leans up, guides him inside her, and when she sinks down it’s like a flash of tingling heat takes over her entire body.

Jacob groans, holding her securely, thrusting up as she works her thighs above him. They kiss, deep and messy, graceless but passionate, her fingers tugging, his pressing hard into her skin.

It’s not at all how she’d expected her first time to be; she’d imagined it would be with Edward, of course, and slow, but she can’t get enough of Jacob and it seems like he can’t get enough of her either. She’d imagined a cool, pale body above her, but it’s Jacob’s deep, rich, hot skin she presses her lips to, her fingernails against. She’d expected Edward’s hard, marble arms around her, and while Jacob is strong and firm he’s still soft, skin slick with sweat as they move together.

“Jake,” she murmurs, the taste of him on her lips, his scent in her nose, woodsy, clean. “Jacob.” Her body trembles and he holds her tighter, presses his face into her neck.

“I’ve got you.” She sighs happily at that, grabs his hair more roughly, rides him faster.

“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.”

Jacob looks up at her, eyes fiery, liquid, then pulls her in with a hand on the back of her neck and kisses her like the first time—soft, nervous, sweet. The juxtaposition of that gentle kiss and his possessive grip makes her dizzy, and when he pulls back his face is all she can see, all she wants to see, all she needs.

“I’ve always got you,” he promises, his gaze tender, unflinching. “Always.”

He’s got her when he comes, holding her tightly with one thick forearm and dragging his free hand over her breasts, then lower, to rub her clit as she bounces herself to climax in his grasp. “Oh, god,” she breathes, voice like a shiver, and her fingernails dig half-moons into his biceps as they both slow, slow, slow, then stop altogether.

He eases them both down against the bed, arms around her, their legs entwined, and they catch their breath, just look at each other until the exhaustion of the day catches up to her. Her eyes flutter closed, and pressed so close to him, so warm, all she can do is sleep.

When she wakes, it’s still mostly dark, and she desperately needs to clean up in the bathroom and get a glass of water. Jacob’s t-shirt is the first piece of clothing she sees—or the first she wants to see—and she pulls it over her head and pads to the bathroom for a human moment—a very human moment indeed.

She pauses, while washing her hands, to look over her reflection in the mirror. Rationally, she knows nothing has really changed, but at the same time everything has.

The bathroom water is never cold enough to drink, so she treads down the stairs, across the kitchen, turns on the tap and lets it run until the water is icy and crisp. She fills a glass, takes a couple of sips, then almost drops it when a cool hand is suddenly pressed to her shoulder.

It’s Alice, and she uses her other hand to catch the glass before it can hit the floor and shatter.

“Relax. It’s just me.” Her eyes are soft, and it’s clear she is happy to see her, but there’s something else in her expression, something inquisitive. “You’re alright.”

“I’m fine. I’m… good, actually.” She shrugs, which bares her shoulder, in the large t-shirt she wears, that she’d forgotten she was wearing. She freezes—she knows how she must smell to Alice, like Jacob and like… Jacob—but her friend just shakes her head.

“I couldn’t see you; well, I saw you jump off a cliff, and then you were gone. I thought you died.”

“Alive and well,” she says with a tone that’s hoping for lighthearted, but…

She has no regrets about being with Jacob, not one—she just hadn’t expected to be confronted with a vampire she once considered a sister almost immediately after. She doesn’t know what to say right now, how to act. Who to be.

“I was cliff jumping, recreationally. It was fun... for a minute.” Alice rolls her eyes, but it’s clear she’s happy she’s unharmed—though perhaps irritated by her tendency toward life-threatening idiocy.

“That doesn’t explain why I couldn’t see you, why your whole future went black.” Her golden eyes stare seriously, unblinking for a moment, and then she looks away. “Though maybe I owe that to the wolf in your bed.”

Of all the nights for Alice to come back to Forks, she thinks, a suddenly uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Then she hears footsteps on the stairs.

“Not in her bed anymore,” Jacob says, voice low, from the doorway to the kitchen; he takes half a step forward, an aborted move, like he wants to put himself in between them.

“This is Alice, Edward’s sister. Alice, this is Jacob,” she explains, trying not to focus on his shirtless torso, or the pained expression on his face. She blows out a deep breath. “It’s okay. She won’t hurt me.”

“She’s hurt you before,” he counters, no doubt remembering every heartbroken, aching expression she’d worn in the months prior. He takes a step closer, so he is next to her, his forearm grazing hers, and Alice takes a step back. “I’d like to stick around, if it’s all the same to you.”

He’s posturing, that much is clear, but she can't find it in herself to be irritated, because at least he’s giving her the option, letting her choose.

“I thought you couldn’t protect me here,” she says, turning her face up to look at him, and Jacob’s response makes heat pool low in her belly, just like the night before.

“There is nowhere in this world I won’t protect you—treaty or no treaty.”

She wants so badly to kiss him, but Alice is there, Alice, right in front of her after all this time, and she’s conflicted. Torn. He can tell, she knows, but he doesn’t take it personally, just reaches up to scratch his head, sighs.

“So are more of you coming? Is–is he…?”

“I came alone. And no,” Alice replies after a moment, but she’s looking at her instead, probably knows that he’s just saying what she’s too worried to ask. “He only calls in once every few months. Says he wants to be alone.” Jacob scoffs.

“Great. He wants to be alone, so you all leave her behind, unprotected? That red headed vampire is after her because of him.”

That gets a reaction out of Alice, whose eyes darken protectively.

“Who, Victoria? I haven’t seen her.” She stares off into the distance, like she’s searching for memories, visions, sifting through what she’s seen and trying to piece together what she hasn’t. “Just like I didn’t see you get pulled out of the water. There’s a lot I haven’t seen, apparently,” she adds under her breath, and the other girl presses her lips together, sighs.

Not the time or place for this discussion, and they both know it, but that doesn’t mean it’s avoidable for long.

“So you can’t see around Jacob. The wolves,” she guesses. “I’ve been with them a lot lately.”

“With him a lot lately,” Alice corrects. Jacob huffs, but it’s not untrue, so she lets her think what she wants. Her silence must speak volumes, because Alice takes a deep, wholly unnecessary breath, and gestures toward the door. “Should I go?”

“Please don’t,” she says quickly, nearly begging. It’s the first she’s seen of Alice in almost a year and she cannot let her leave as abruptly as she’d shown up. “If you could just give us a minute…”

“Take two,” the vampire says, and it’s with a half-smile that turns into a smirk. “I’ll go Febreze the living room while I wait: it smells like wet dog.” She turns to leave, a bounce in her step that the other girl can’t help laughing at, shaking her head.

She sobers up when Jacob turns toward her, takes a step that moves the both of them, so her back is pressed up against the kitchen counter. He looks so serious, and her heart beats for him everywhere.

“Do you believe her? When she says she came alone?” he asks, and she tilts her head, nods softly.

“Of course I believe her. She just had to make sure I was okay, that’s all. There’s… there’s nothing for them here.”

Even as she says the words, she hopes they’re not true—hopes that, even if they really aren’t meant to be together, that she and Edward, she and the Cullens, can still be… Friends isn’t really a strong enough word, but she wants them in her life, potential bloody accidents be damned.

“So if he came back,” Jacob says, leaning in closer, his lips hovering over hers, “you wouldn’t go to him?” His tone is light, but she understands the weight of his question, takes a moment to find the right words to answer it.

“If he came back, I’d want to see him. Just like I want to see Alice.” She reaches out to touch him, his warm, bare skin, places her palm over his thumping heart. “But I wouldn’t go to him. Not like this.”

It’s true, and she wants to say more, to promise him, reassure him, but just after she says it, the landline rings. Jacob sighs, his breath on her cheek, and reaches out a hand to answer it. “Hello?” The person on the other end speaks in a low tone she can’t make out, but she can see the tick in Jacob’s jaw, a hard set to his eyes. “He isn’t here right now, but that’s not who you really want, is it?”

There’s another moment of conversation she can’t hear, and Alice walks into the room looking stunned; Jacob hands the other girl the receiver, and she looks from him to Alice and then speaks into the phone. “Hello?”

“You’re alright.”

It’s Edward, his voice cool and smooth but thick with emotion. It makes butterflies flutter around in her stomach, just like it used to.

“I’m alright.” She doesn’t give him more than he asks for, doesn’t take more than he offers. She’s aware of two sets of eyes on her, feels more nervous than before, in her oversized t-shirt and sleep-mussed hair.

She’s glad he can’t see her and wonders exactly what that means.

“Good. Rosalie said Alice had a vision…” He trails off, but they both know what he’s not saying: everyone thought she’d given up and killed herself. She crosses her arms.

“The vision was incomplete. I’m fine. Stupid, but fine.” Edward huffs a laugh down the line, and she can imagine the exact cant of his mouth, the glimmer in his eye that always seemed to be reserved for her.

“You are many things, but stupid is not one of them.” There’s more he wants to say, she can tell; as a man of few words, many of their conversations were punctuated with heavy, meaningful silence. Part of her wishes she could see his face, at least. That always helped. “Who answered the phone? Jacob?”

She looks up at him involuntarily, notes the tightness of his mouth, his arms folded in front of his bare chest.

“Yes, Jacob. He’s the one who pulled me out of the water, the one Alice didn’t see.”

“Hmm. He still doesn’t seem to like me much.” Her lips turn up at that—understatement of the century—and she wonders if Jake can hear him too. Based on the stoic expression he wears, he either can’t, or he’s not paying attention.

“No he does not.” A beat passes, then two. “You should call your family more often, go see them. They miss you.”

“It’s difficult,” he says, swallowing, and she nods at no one.

“I know, but don’t punish them. Please.” She knows how it feels, to be totally cut off from people she loves, to constantly wonder, always fear the worst; she doesn’t say it because she knows he knows.

“I’ll consider it, if you don’t go jumping off those cliffs any time soon.” She laughs softly, surprised at his humor; this was not how she would have ever anticipated a call like this to go, but she likes it. Likes them, like this.

“Deal. Alice is looking at me like she’s going to steal the phone any moment,” she warns, which is putting it mildly. “So I’m going to put her on. You can call when it’s not life or death, you know,” she adds quietly. “It would be nice to hear from you. If you ever want to talk.”

She doesn’t know if he responds, because Alice takes the receiver, winds the cord around her arm, and scolds her brother with love in the way only a sister can manage.

While they talk, she walks toward Jacob, then past him, toward the staircase, but she takes hold of his hand as she goes, and he follows just like the night before. This time, he closes the bedroom door behind them.

“I’m sorry this happened like this,” she says, sitting down on the bed, one leg beneath her and the other hanging over the edge. “I’m not sorry Alice is here, but I’m sorry that’s what you woke up to. If you were… worried.” Jacob takes the space next to her atop the rumpled duvet.

“I was worried when I smelled a bloodsu- vampire,” he corrects quickly, “and you weren’t beside me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, this time leaning closer. “But thank you for giving me the phone, letting me talk to him. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” He shrugs, like it was no big deal, even though she remembers how angry he’d looked at the sound of Edward’s voice.

“I almost didn’t. I mean, technically, he didn’t ask for you.” She rolls her eyes—definitely guy logic—then stands up, scoops his jeans off the floor and hands them over to him. Her face heats at the memory of removing them in the first place, but she snaps out of that for her own sake and grabs fresh clothes, steps into the bathroom to make herself presentable.

When she’s done, she heads back to her bedroom, where Jacob is now clad in jeans and boots, sitting shirtless on her bed. She deposits the borrowed t-shirt onto his lap, and when he thinks she’s not looking he brings it to his nose, inhales long and slow, before pulling it over his head.

That action does things to her, and she wishes for a moment that she had his senses, so she could smell the two of them the same way he does, their scents deeply saturated and blended together.

They head downstairs when they’re both dressed, and while he rummages in the refrigerator for something to make them for breakfast, she treads into the living room and sits down next to Alice on the couch.

“So,” Alice says, and then she gestures to a cup of tea. The other girl picks up the mug and thanks her, brings it to her lips. “How long has that been going on?”

She feels her cheeks heat, and she hides behind another sip of tea.

“Really? I haven’t seen you in almost a year and that’s what you want to talk about?”

“Oh, forgive me for being curious about what it’s like to date a werewolf when last I saw you were grieving the loss of my brother.” Alice’s tone is more playful than it would seem, and her eyes smile even if her lips don’t.

She always knew that Edward wasn’t telling the truth when he said he didn’t want her. He just couldn’t bear it, knowing that being with him put her in so much danger, caused her so much pain. She knew it was worth it, but if he didn’t… there’s nothing she could have done to change his mind, she knows that now. She can’t feel guilty for moving on when it’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do in the first place.

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s talk about how I’m going to comb the woods, find Victoria, and rip her into confetti for threatening to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jacob says, walking into the room with… a cup of tea. He looks over at the mug in her hand, then sets the one he brought her down on the table without a word. “The pack’s got it covered.”

“All due respect, but if the pack had it covered, she wouldn’t be a threat anymore, would she?” Alice tosses over her shoulder. The other girl sets her tea down and sighs.

“Alright, can we not do this? The age-old vampires versus werewolves thing? Especially if I’m in the middle of it. Maybe you guys could work together for a change; Alice can’t protect this part of the territory all by herself.” She picks up her drink—a drink, the one Jacob made, this time—and takes a long sip, looks up at them over the rim of the mug.

“The pack could help, if you give us the authority to amend the treaty,” Jacob says to Alice, though he’s kind of looking at the ceiling, his arms crossed. “But wherever she is, I’ll be.”

“You can’t be with her every second,” Alice counters, and her exasperation makes it sound like an argument she’s had before. “It’s not good for either of you and could put her in danger; if Victoria picks up on it, she’ll be able to use your scent to track her anywhere. Trust me, yours is a lot stronger than hers is, and it’s all over her.”

She thinks Jacob makes some kind of noise, like a low growl in the very back of his throat, but it’s hard to hear. Alice raises her eyebrows like she’s trying not to roll her eyes.

The three of them discuss potential ways to coordinate with the pack, and Alice mentions calling in Emmett and Jasper to see if they could help with the search; the sooner Victoria is gone, the better, is the general consensus, and Jacob thinks he can get Sam on board with that as well, even if it means more Cullens coming back to town.

She finishes both cups of tea, then a plate of eggs and toast Jacob put together from the bare-bones contents of her kitchen—she reminds herself to make a shopping list, then absently wonders if she’ll have a grand escort to Trader Joe’s.

“I’ll make some calls while you’re gone,” Alice says as she is taking her last bite; she looks up from her plate, confused, and Alice waves a hand. “I saw a glimpse of you at the grocery store, but then it went dark; I assume that means he’s going with you.”

“I thought about it for a split second, as a joke,” she clarifies with a huff of laughter. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard in the produce aisle at eight AM.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Alice and Jacob say, at the same time, and her lips twitch in amusement.

Looks like they’re not so different, in the end.

She gives in and allows Jacob to drive her to the supermarket, though not without a long look from Alice as he walks her to the truck with his hand on the small of her back.

They breeze through the store thanks to the list in her head—she buys a little more than she usually would, because it seems like Jacob plans to be around. She likes the thought of that even more than she’d expected, likes choosing things solely because she knows he’ll enjoy them.

“I think we should talk about last night,” Jacob says, voice low, when they’re nearly back to her house. She cringes internally, because that’s never a sentence a girl wants to hear after a night like that, and he clears his throat. “I know cliff jumping ended up being kind of traumatic for you, and it didn’t feel like it last night, but if I took advantage…”

He looks over at her, his expression pained, and she shifts closer and wraps her hand around his forearm.

“God, no, Jake—that’s not what happened.” He brings the truck to a stop in her driveway, puts it in park, and she presses her palm to his cheek so he’ll focus on her instead of fixing his gaze out the window. “I wanted everything, every moment. I still want it,” she murmurs, and he looks over her face like he’s still not quite sure he believes it.

“You do? Even after… after you spoke to him, and everything?” It’s a fair question, and again, one she answers very carefully.

“I think we needed to talk, he and I, but it didn’t change anything. You’re the one who changed everything,” she admits softly, tentatively, wetting her lips. She hopes her eyes convey the certainty her voice can’t seem to. “Do you want to kiss me?” she breathes, leaning closer, her fingers winding a path through his hair, and he nods his head and presses his mouth to hers.

She gets up on her knees so she can be closer to him, but she doesn’t climb into his lap like before—she does have some self-restraint, despite what it may seem. She curls one arm around the muscles of his back, pulls him in for more contact with the hand in his hair, and it’s a few minutes later when she remembers they’ve got bags of perishable groceries in the back and a vampire with excellent acoustic abilities just inside her home.

She pulls back, smiles a little at the soft, unfocused look on his face, then runs her hand down his chest before lifting it away entirely.

“I know we’re kind of at DEFCON 1 right now, but more of that a little later would be nice.”

“Hmm. Very nice,” he agrees with a nod, his voice slightly rough, and he turns off the ignition and carries all of her groceries into the kitchen with one strong arm.

Emmett and Jasper do come back, with Rosalie and Esme, to her delight and Jacob’s discomfort. Between the pack, who comes to get the vampires’ scents so there’s no friendly fire, and the family, who split time between her house and the one they left behind, the place is a revolving door of the supernatural for the next few days.

All of them take turns watching over her house at night, while the others patrol the woods. She catches up with everyone she’s been separated from—even Jasper gives her a crushing hug, so at least the time away was good for something—and it’s wonderful, but it means there’s not much time to be with Jacob aside from planning sessions and the occasional quick check in. The most time she spends with him is when they attend Harry’s funeral, something somber and intimate, with ethereal music and a glowing campfire and endless stories about the Clearwater line.

She is introduced to Leah and Seth, Harry’s children, and while Seth seems welcoming and friendly his sister is cold, standoffish—though not without reason, she soon learns from the pack.

“She’s not always like that… mostly just when she’s around Sam,” Embry says where they stand on the edge of the forest, away from the thick smoke that burns her very human eyes. She looks over at the pack leader at the mention of his name. “Now that she’s part of the pack, we have to live the Leah/Sam/Emily painfest all over again.”

She turns back to him, to Quil, who’s standing beside him, and tilts her head, curious.

“I don’t think I follow—Sam left Leah for Emily?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not what you think. He hates himself for hurting her, but he couldn’t help it. Emily was ‘the one.’” Quil says it almost sarcastically, with air quotes for emphasis, and she frowns.

“The one?” She doesn’t mean to sound skeptical, but these days she’s not as big a fan of providence and destiny as she used to be.

“Sam imprinted on Emily. It’s kind of like… soulmates, but bigger. Cosmic. They were literally meant to be together.”

“Like fate,” she says, filling in that blank, and then a large, warm hand is splayed across her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress.

“We make our own fate around here,” Jacob says tightly, and she looks up, regards him curiously. He’s not just upset about Harry, or Victoria… there’s got to be something else making his jaw tense, his eyes hard. “And I think that’s more than enough of the pack soap opera for tonight. Are you ready to go home?”

He turns his gaze to her, and it softens, for which she is grateful; he is her guardian on duty tonight, and despite the solemn evening—or maybe because of it—she wants to spend the night as close to him as she possibly can.

She nods, and after they say their goodbyes he walks her to the truck, opens the door for her, closing it carefully when she’s safely inside. He takes the spot behind the driver’s seat—his usual, now—but doesn’t drive straight to her house like she expects.

“Ice cream?” she asks when he turns off the engine outside of a mom and pop shop selling sundaes, cones, and shakes. She exits the car at his indication, and the two of them walk hand in hand up to the illuminated window that says Order Here. An older couple is ahead of them, pointing at the chalk menu board, and Jacob leans in to speak in a hushed tone.

“This place was Harry’s favorite. You like chocolate, right?”

“Has anyone ever answered ‘no’ to that question?” she asks softly, playfully, and it works as intended, lightens the mood just enough to bring a brilliant smile to his painfully beautiful face. “I think this is a wonderful way to remember him, Jake.” She wraps a comforting arm around his, and Jacob nods, lips pressed together, eyes sad.

“Just kind of feels right.”

He orders for them when it’s their turn, two waffle cones with two scoops of chocolate ice cream each, and they sit at a picnic table on the side of the building, eating their tributes with heavy hearts and looking up at the stars.

The ride home is quiet, contemplative, at least for her; by the time they arrive she has been running through thoughts of mortality, finality, how short life is and how very precious.

These are all normal thoughts for a person to have, and certainly after a celebration of life like the one on the reservation tonight, but she thinks seriously for the first time about Jacob and his desperate need to protect her, the way he puts himself in danger—stupidly, recklessly, completely—every day to keep her safe.

When they’ve made it inside, she exhales deeply, looks up into earnest, curious eyes, and wraps her arms around him, presses close so she can bury her nose in his clothing.

She breathes him in long and slow, his usual scent of crisp air and rain and oak dulled by the smoke of the bonfire, and then his hands are in her hair, tipping her face up for a decadent, passionate kiss.

God, how is he so good at this? she thinks as he sips at her lips, glides his own down the tender line of her throat. She sighs and grabs for his arms, something to ground her as her desire threatens to take over, to leave her a whimpering, begging mess beneath his hands.

Jacob turns them so she’s got her back to the kitchen table, sets her on top of it, and she parts her knees for him, pulls him closer. Her fingers itch with the need to touch his skin, so she tugs at the hem of his shirt and gets her hands beneath it, skims them over the taut muscles of his bare back.

“I can take it off,” he murmurs against her neck, and she nods breathlessly and helps him pull it over his head. His hands bracket her hips, palms flat on the table, and her arms curve up around his back, bringing him closer; she kisses him eagerly anywhere she can reach—his throat, shoulders, face, everywhere.

She whispers his name into his own skin, presses her lips to his biceps, scrapes her teeth over the lobe of his ear, and he shudders at her touch, tilts his head to look up at her, his eyes dark and almost… dangerous.

What does it say about her, that she finds that look so goddamn attractive?

“I’m sorry, I—I need a minute,” he says, panting through gritted teeth, and she lets her hands fall away, leaning back a little to give him space to breathe.

“Take all the time you need,” she assures him calmly, patiently. It’s the first time she’s ever seen his wolf so close to the surface, and she’s completely unafraid, would hold him and help him ride out the tension in his body if she thought he would let her. “It’s just us, Jake, just me and you.”

“Just us,” he repeats, his fists clenching and unclenching, taking a long breath with his eyes closed. She breathes with him, has always found that helpful when she herself is overwhelmed, and after a few moments he presses closer and she runs a soothing hand over his chest. “I’m okay,” he says eventually, leaning in slowly for a kiss as though he’s afraid it will be rejected. She brings her hands to his face, deepens it, so it’s still soft and easy but with enough meaning behind it to convey her thoughts.

“I know,” she murmurs, just to be certain he believes her. “You did so good; so good, Jake.” He nods, pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes.

“It’s not that I can’t control it, I can, but…” He looks away for a moment, swipes his tongue over his lips. “The instincts are so strong and I don’t always want to fight them. Sometimes when I’m with you, I want to let the wolf win.” He says it like he’s ashamed, and she puts her arm around his shoulders and brings him down for another kiss, this one just a gentle press of mouths.

“I understand that more than you think I do.” His breath on her lips makes her crave more of his heat, but she knows it has to be slow now, or he’ll get too in his head and never let himself enjoy their night together. “I may not be supernaturally inclined, but sometimes making decisions with my body is all I want to do. Especially with you,” she adds, just a sigh between them, then touches their foreheads together.

They stay like that for a moment, embracing in their own way, until he initiates a kiss that is so thorough it makes her toes curl. She brings her hands to his waist, guides him closer, and he rests a broad palm at the base of her throat and kisses her, again, and again, and again.

Her arms curl around his body the second they separate for air, and he lifts her from the table, carries her up the stairs with an ease that makes her long for more frequent displays of his strength.

Getting his clothes off is quick enough, since he’s already shirtless, and his hands are tender and gentle as he sweeps her hair away from her neck, pulls down the zipper of her dress, slides it off her bare shoulders.

Neither of them bother to pull back the covers, simply lay back on the bed, her knees apart again, Jacob hovering between them and letting his eyes move over her like he’s committing her body to memory. It makes a wave of heat rush through her, and since tonight is less hurried she does the same, lingers over every curve of muscle, every sharp line of bone. He leans in, lays an arm behind her head, glides his lips over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth.

“I was right, before,” she says after another satisfying kiss, letting her fingers press into the flesh of his hips. He looks into her eyes, tilts his head curiously, and she smiles a little, can’t help herself. “You really are beautiful.”

Jake breathes a laugh, even blushes a little, then kisses her until they’re both panting; her fingertips press harder when he pushes inside, then glide up his back to keep him close while the two of them move together.

Jacob feels so different this way, is so much deeper, filling her in a way that makes it so she really can’t tell where she ends and he begins. He is heavy on top of her, but not uncomfortably so, and when her body shifts up the bed with every thrust it’s thrilling, incredible—she’s never felt so much in her life.

His face is serious, eyes focused, and she weaves her fingers into his hair and catches his lips in a kiss, moans into the end of it when he finds a spot inside of her that takes her breath away.

“Oh, god, Jake.” He leans in for another kiss, deep and wet, nods against her lips.

“You’re perfect—so perfect,” he huffs, breathless; he moves his hand to her hip, runs it over her stomach, then presses his palms to the bed and repeats his previous motion, over and over, her body coiling tight with pleasure. “Can’t believe I get this.”

“We get this,” she corrects in a whisper, won’t let him think for one second that she’s not as completely in awe of him as he seems to be of her. She skims her nails over his lower back, his ass, tightens her thighs on either side of him and tips her head back just as he makes her come. “Don’t stop, Jake, please,” she whines, shaking, holding him so tightly with her entire body—she never wants it to end, never wants to be separated from him again, and he agrees, if the way his body presses down on hers is any indication.

“Can’t stop… need you,” he groans, pushing her leg up further, so he feels almost impossibly thick and deep. Her arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer, holding him there as he ruts into her, scorching flesh pressed against flesh.

“Yes, oh—”

Before she knows it she’s quaking again, gasping when he brings his teeth to her throat, scrapes them over her throbbing pulse. He growls in her ear, a deep, low, animalistic rumble she can feel in her stomach, then comes inside, claiming her with a broken, raspy, “mine.”

He lays half on top of her, half on the bed, after, their skin soft and damp with cooling sweat. She can’t stop looking at his face, his dark eyes, sharp jaw, and he cups her cheek with a gentle palm and gazes just as intently at her.

“Come here,” she murmurs, a soft smile on her lips, and he kisses her slowly, makes her sigh with a pleasure so complete—mentally, physically, spiritually—it feels like she’ll never be the same.

He gets up after a moment, comes back with a glass of water and a towel, and helps her clean up well enough to hold her over until she’s ready to get out of bed. She pulls the covers back while he’s gone, slides in between the cool sheets, and he follows her lead, pressing close to her beneath them.

“Are you upset you didn’t imprint on me?” she asks carefully, propping herself up on her elbow and using the other hand to run fingers through his hair. “I noticed that when the guys were talking about it, you got kind of tense.” He shrugs slightly before shaking his head.

“No, not upset… I was just so sure you were meant for me; I really thought it would happen sooner or later.” She understands that, can picture him wishing and waiting for something that would never come to pass. So patient, her Jacob.

“Do you wish it had? Do you think it would make this more real?” Her hand moves from his hair to his collarbone, down his chest, over his stomach, so very low. “Because when I’m touching you like this… nothing has ever felt so real.”

He presses her against the bed, hovers over her, kisses her breathless, and it goes without saying that he agrees with every word she says. She softens beneath him, tired and pleased, and he shifts into a more comfortable position, laying behind her, that she knows means sleep for the both of them. He drapes an arm over her, and she draws circles into his skin with her fingertips, feels his warm breath on her neck, closes her eyes and revels in the weight of him at her back.

“Anyway,” she whispers, one last thought on her mind before she succumbs to sleep, “I almost think it’s better like this, that we have to fight for each other. No help from fate—just your will and mine.”

A/N: I got my start in fandom spaces by writing Twilight fanfic fifteen years ago, but I never posted it because it was... bad. Last week was a crummy week for me, so I found comfort in watching New Moon, and I literally couldn't help myself from re-writing it in Jacob's favor. There's no Edward hate here, and he'll play a bigger role in the next part I have planned, but Jake took hold of me in this one and didn't let go.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight saga: new moon #twilight fanfic #jacob black #jacob black fanfic #jacob black x reader #jacob black x female reader #jacob black x original female character

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sosa2imagines · 4 months ago

Text

You, me and Vegas! Part 6

Warning- Fluff, little angst, bad date, talks about bad parenting.

Bucky sat across from Dot, trying desperately to seem relaxed and confident.

But underneath his exterior, his heart was racing, and his palms were sweaty. Dot, on the other hand, was already giving off a judgmental vibe, her eyes roaming over Bucky with a critical look.

Bucky summoned all his courage to start the conversation. “So... um, it's nice to see you again...” he began, trying to keep his voice steady. But his words only made Dot raise an eyebrow, her look of judgment only intensifying.

“Is it?” Dot responded, her tone carrying a hint of condescension. Bucky felt a knot form in his stomach at her words, his earlier confidence faltering slightly.

“Yes, of course,” he replied quickly, desperately trying to regain his footing. “I mean, I wouldn't have asked you out if I didn't want to see you, right? Just alone, without the presence of our parents or anyone else.”

Dot just shrugged, her expression still judgemental. “I guess so.” she conceded, though her tone didn't suggest any real interest. The atmosphere was uncomfortable, and Bucky was beginning to wish for the ground to swallow him.

Bucky tried to make conversation, asking questions about her work and hobbies, but Dot's responses were short and uninterested. Her body language was distant, and her eyes seemed to be studying him, as if deciding his worth.

Dot leaned forward slightly, a sly smile on her face, her eyes flickering with mischief. “So, Bucky,” she began, her voice dropping lower, “Have you ever done anything...naughty?”

She was testing him, trying to see how he would react.

Bucky's eyes widened at her question, the sudden change in her tone catching him off guard. He felt his cheeks heat up as he tried to formulate a response. “W-what do you mean by 'naughty?'“ he asked, his voice betraying his nerves.

Dot leaned even closer, her lips curled into a half-smile. “Oh, you know,” she drawled, her voice sultry, “Something... adventurous, something... exciting.” She was clearly enjoying his reaction, playing with him like a cat with a mouse.

Bucky, still flustered by her question, misunderstood her meaning. He thought she was talking about something adventurous or exciting in a harmless sense. So, he responded with a hint of pride. “Yes, I have.” he affirmed, a small smile on his face, thinking of a time he'd gone skydiving.

Dot's eyes widened slightly at his answer, her lips parting in surprise. She hadn't expected him to respond with such confidence, she leaned closer “I'm heading to the restroom...” she winked at him.

Bucky, now realizing his mistake and feeling slightly anxious, watched as Dot sashayed away towards the restrooms. He realized Dot had meant something very different by 'naughty', something much more risqué than skydiving. The realization made his heart rate quicken a bit.

Bucky sat at the table, the weight of his mistake sinking in. He should have known better than to take her question at face value. He reluctantly followed her, nervous and scared.

Bucky, his heart racing, entered the bathroom and was immediately pulled into one of the stalls by Dot. She pushed him onto the toilet, taking control of the situation swiftly. Bucky found himself sitting on the closed toilet seat, his face flushed with surprise and embarrassment.

Dot locked the door behind her, a sly smile on her face. The space was cramped, and Bucky felt claustrophobic, his knees almost touching the door. He looked up at her, confusion and awkwardness warring in his eyes.

Bucky, in his panicked state, reached out and grabbed the only thing within his reach - the toilet jet spray. Holding it like a weapon, he pointed it towards Dot, intending to use it as a defense.

Dot, who had been about to say something, stopped the moment she saw what he was holding. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by amusement. “Dirty boy...” she teased, her voice lilting with mockery.

Bucky's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of crimson at her words, her jesting tone making him feel even more embarrassed. He gripped the jet spray tighter.

Dot gasped as the cold water from the jet spray soaked her clothes, the shock quickly giving way to anger. She crossed her arms, looking down at her now-damp outfit.

As Bucky emerged from the restroom, his pants soaked and his shirt sticking to him, he found himself the center of attention. People in the restaurant were staring, their eyes wide with surprise and amusement. Some were clearly trying to hide their laughter.

Bucky's face was flushed, his eyes darting around the restaurant, trying to avoid the curious gazes. He could hear people whispering, some snickering, some chuckling. It was mortifying.

Bucky's face was still flushed as he sat in the passenger seat of the car. He was trying to dry himself with the tiny napkin the restaurant had given him, his clothes still damp.

Peach, who was driving and clearly amused by the situation, was having a hard time holding back her laughter. She looked over at Bucky, her face crinkled with mirth.

Bucky's cheeks burned hotter. “Please, stop laughing,” he pleaded, his voice filled with embarrassment. “And don't you, ever suggest me any ideas again.”

Peach finally lost control and burst out laughing. Her laughter filled the car, echoing in the small space. “I'm sorry,” she managed between giggles. “But you should see your face! Priceless! I had only suggested to go on a date, I had no clue she'd take you to the restroom on the first date.”

Bucky groaned, his head falling back against the headrest of the car seat. “I know, I know,” he grumbled, running a hand through his wet hair. “I should have just ignored your suggestions. You know what? She is on the top of my top ten most hated people list!”

Peach, still chuckling, took pity on him and tried to comfort him. “Hey,” she said, her voice still filled with mirth. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Bucky grumbled, his mood still sour. He continued to try and dry his clothes with the tiny napkin, making little to no progress. “I had tons of litre of water.”

“I don't think you need more water,” Peach said, a hint of seriousness in her voice. “But food might cheer you up. There's a diner nearby that's open all night. We can grab some burgers and shake, my treat.”

Bucky paused his drying efforts, looking out the window. The idea of food did sound somewhat appealing, even in his currently miserable state. He sighed, a small, reluctant agreement escaping his lips. “Sure,” he muttered, “Burgers and shakes sound good.”

Peach smiled warmly, her good mood returning. “Great,” she said, starting the car.

“Wear your seatbelt!” “Okay, cranky pants.”

In the days that followed the disastrous date, Bucky and Peach often spent time together. It started off as casual hangouts, but soon they found themselves spending more and more time together.

Peach, with her vibrant energy and lively spirit, brought a new light into Bucky's life. His once-dull existence started to have a hint of vivacity, and his friends could notice the change in him. Bucky, who was usually serious and reserved, was starting to loosen up, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to moments of humor and relaxation.

Peach had a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel exciting, and her positive vibes were contagious. Bucky found himself enjoying her company, her presence bringing a smile to his face, even on the gloomiest of days.

Bucky and Peach were in the grocery store, pushing a cart down the aisle. Peach was tossing random snacks into the cart, while Bucky was trying to focus on the shopping list in his hand.

As they passed by the alcohol section, Bucky couldn't help but glance at the bottles, memories of their drunken night returning. He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention before lowering his voice.

“You know,” he said, turning to Peach, “My parents don't know we got drunk married, and we're getting annulled soon.”

Peach was munching on gummy bears as she pushed the cart, her expression one of casual curiosity. Upon hearing Bucky's statement, she paused, her eyebrows furrowing in Confusion.

“Why?” she asked, her voice somewhat muffled by a mouthful of gummy bears. She popped one more into her mouth before asking again, this time clearer. “Why don't your parents know?”

Bucky glanced over at Peach, who was now nibbling on another gummy bear. “Were you allowed to eat chocolates and candies when you were a child?”

There was a hint of a smile on Peach's face as she responded to Bucky's question. “Yes, I was,” she confessed, her voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. “I was allowed to eat as many candies and chocolates as I wanted. And let me tell you, I took full advantage of that.”

Bucky sighed, pushing the cart idly as they made their way down the aisle. “My parents are... traditional,” he began, his voice quiet. “They're very strict and have certain... expectations. They raised me with a strict no-sweets rule,” he explained, “I wasn't allowed to eat candies or chocolates as a child.”

Bucky pushed the cart forward, his face reflecting his growing frustration and resentment. “My parents,” he said, his voice edged with bitterness, “Dictate almost every aspect of my life. And they don't even know I've been unemployed. I can't bring myself to tell them because I know they'll just criticize my decisions, like they always do.”

He ran his hand through his hair, the anger and helplessness clear in his eyes. “It's like they have this image of the perfect son, and I'm just not living up to it. They're never satisfied, no matter what I do. It's exhausting.”

Peach listened intently, her gaze gentle and understanding. She placed a hand on his arm, a gesture of comfort. “Bucky,” she said softly, “You know you don't have to live your life according to their expectations, right? You're your own person, not just their son.”

Bucky let out a long sigh, the weight on his shoulders seeming to ease just a bit. “I know,” he admitted, his voice slightly softer now. “But it's easier said than done. They've conditioned me to look for their approval for so long, I've forgotten how to live for myself.”

Bucky was just bending down to grab a pack of spaghetti noodles from the bottom shelf when Peach's voice sounded from behind him.

“Damn, Bucky,” she said, her tone laced with appreciation, “Your butt is cute. I'd rate it an eight out of ten.”

Bucky froze, a mix of surprise and embarrassment coursing through him. He slowly stood up, turning around to give her a bewildered look.

Peach, still appreciating Bucky's butt, let out a sigh. “I wish my butt was round like yours,” she said, gesturing towards her own butt.

Bucky, still recovering from the earlier surprise, turned to look at her, his eyes instinctively falling on her backside. He studied it for a moment before saying, “Five.” His tone was genuine, lacking any sarcasm or innuendo.

Peach gaped at him in shock, her jaw hanging open in mock outrage. “Just five?!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with exaggerated incredulity. “You're kidding, right?”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk on his lips. “Okay, seven,” he conceded, amused by her reaction.

“You can't just bump it up two points like that!” she protested, throwing a gummy bear at him in playful annoyance. “Seven is still too low. It's at least a nine!”

Bucky chuckled, dodging the gummy bear. “Oh, a nine now, huh?” he said, his tone dry but amused. “Your ratings are all over the place. Seven is a good score. Very respectable.”

They laughed and bantered all the way back to the car. Peach kept insisting her butt deserved a higher rating, while Bucky tried to argue that a seven was more than generous. They were both laughing as they loaded the groceries into the trunk, the banter and playful teasing creating a light, carefree atmosphere.

Part 5- Part 7

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tellmealovestory · 1 year ago

Text

Cemetery

Summary: Eddie has an idea for where you guys can go to get some alone time.

Warnings: Implied smut.

Spooktober Masterlist

There was something about nighttime drives you love.

Maybe it’s the lack of cars on the road as the tires hum on the blacktop. Lights off in the houses that you pass. Nobody on the street to catch you and Eddie together relaying that information back to your parents who made their disapproval well known to you both.

Or maybe it’s that late at night, sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, windows down letting the chill air in making the smoke from his joint swirl around it’s easy to imagine living somewhere else, somewhere you don’t have to hide your relationship and sneak around in search of alone time.

Sitting up straighter when you catch a quick glimpse of the inky black lake through the tall trees, anticipation thrums through your body knowing that in a matter of minutes you’ll be parked and crawling into the back seat of his van. Eddie’s firm body laying next to yours as you show him how much you missed him.

But as the headlights swing over the parking lot that anticipation plummets like a skydiver whose parachute doesn’t open when you see all the other cars parked with couples who seem to have the same idea.

Eddie senses your hesitation and reaches over to squeeze your knee as if to say it’s okay, nothing wrong with a little audience, but you have a different opinion on the matter.

“Now what?” you ask, slumping back against the seat, arms crossed over your chest like a petulant child who’s just been told no for the first time.

Eddie drums his fingers against the steering wheel, head cocked to the side in thought, pink tongue sticking out a little as his eyes scan over the full parking lot.

“You trust me?” he asks after a few minutes of silence and when he turns to you there’s a glint in his eyes that screams mischief and mayhem, but also an adventure and you’re someone who never turns down an adventure when it comes to Eddie Munson.

You don’t answer with words. Reaching for his hand you twine your fingers together, squeezing his always calloused palms and fingertips from years of playing guitar. Leaning over the console you press a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth and when his lips curl up from that first touch of your strawberry scented lip balm you finally answer his question.

“Always and forever, Eddie.”

“No. No. No. No.”

“Wait, baby, c’mon, just let me-”

“Eddie! No! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Uh you wanted somewhere quiet and empty. Did I not deliver you somewhere quiet and empty?”

Okay, maybe he had you there. It was quiet. And it was empty. But it was also a fucking cemetery full of dead people and probably ghosts and probably bored teenagers looking to prank some couple stupid enough to park and make out here.

“When you said you had an idea I thought you meant a park or something. Or an empty parking lot that the cops don’t patrol. Not here!” Your arm sweeps out to gesture to the headstones that are illuminated by Eddie’s headlights.

Rubbing at your goosebump covered arms a gentle breeze drifts through the still open windows and your earlier need for the man next to you is slowly fizzling when he shuts the van off.

It’s quiet now without the radio and the disc jockey spinning supposed ghost stories to scare the late night listeners in between tunes of Metallica and Iron Maiden.

You turn in your seat to face him, that glint in his eyes is shining brighter now than when it was at Lover’s Lake and despite your protests at hooking up in a cemetery, which you're not going to do because no, just no, you still lean over to cup his cheek.

Pressing your lips to his lightly Eddie is only too eager to kiss you back, deepening it as his tongue slides across your lower lip, but before things can get too heated which is an all too easy thing to happen when it comes to him you’re pulling back and settling into your seat again.

“I love you, but we are not hooking up in this cemetery and I can not believe how weird you are to think that this is okay.” There’s no malice or venom in your voice when you call him weird because he knows how much you enjoy that part of his personality.

There’s only a light teasing that he takes in stride because yeah, he is a little fucking weird, but it’s what keeps your relationship interesting and keeps you on your toes.

“Okay, okay.” He starts the van back up and it rumbles to life once again illuminating the cemetery in front of you. “Think I might have another place where we could try and be alone.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and you laugh as you shake your head before turning more serious.

“It better not be the morgue, Eddie or I swear we are done,” you say and this time Eddie joins in on your laughter.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #my writing

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upontherisers · 6 months ago

Note

if you're feeling it, could i please request "playing with each other’s fingers" for an oc of your choice👀 — @shoshiwrites

happy (belated) bday my dear shosh. here is a very very belated prompt to celebrate. this is an AU i've had for years but @loveduringthewar's beautiful West Wing AU inspired me to get some real writing done on it. summary: poet laureate mattie james is dutifully protected by secret service special agent joe toye.

a friday in autumn, 2:19 pm

Joe finds himself in a chair across from Mattie, who’s surrounded by a gaggle of vigilantly curious middle schoolers as she holds his palm and moves his hand around.

“See?” she says, angling his fingers toward the fluorescent lights overhead, “it’s too big. So,” she lets his hand down once more and slips her wire work off his finger. “We gotta make it smaller but if we squeeze it—”

“There’ll be a bend, like, a little point.” One of the kids makes a ‘V’ with his hands and Mattie beams.

“Exactly! Let me show you how to avoid that.” She sits back with the paperclip ring and the circle of kids closes around her once more.

Joe takes a moment to look around for help from any of the other adults in the room, hoping someone else is willing to jump in and play model while he gets back to his very serious job of protecting a representative of the state, but he’s only met with endeared smiles from the teachers and duty-bound refusal from his fellow agents. Bull’s at the door with a sympathetic but ultimately unmoved nod, Bill’s glancing over with a smug, thrilled sneer between chatting to one of the instructors, and Johnny shakes his head before looking at the floor. Joe knows what that means—you made your bed, now lie in it.

Or, as Mattie likes to say, grow a spine.

It’s not like Joe doesn’t have a spine. He spends his days telling people what they can and can’t do, where they can and can’t go, and who they can and can’t speak to, all without getting caught up in their pleas and compromises. This job does not allow for missteps; he’s not a man who takes chances. But this, and but is doing a lot of work here says the Mattie in his brain because she lives there now, this is different.

This is the fourth school they’ve been to this week and it goes the same every time. They arrive to a warm, overenthusiastic welcome from the teachers and an excited-slash-confused-to-borderline-hostile reception from the students. Mattie’s music isn’t necessarily targeted toward the middle grades, her poetry even less so. But she gets up there nonetheless.

Hi, I’m Mattie. I make music and I write poems.

Are you good at it? a kid will ask, always a boy—this one proudly introduced himself as Tyler, always towards the back of the room, always accompanied by giggles.

Mattie shrugs. Some people think I am, some people think I’m trash. And the shock of that admission, from an adult, from a capital-I important adult, breaks the spell of awkwardness and within a few minutes, she’s charmed the whole room. The kids are eating out of her palm. Even the ones who were determined to be difficult have either bought in or are about to.

Joe is now familiar with the mix of admiration and jealousy on a teacher’s face when they realize that Mattie’s nearing a participation rate that Maria Montessori would be jealous of. Johnny leans over to them with a grimace of empathy. It’s not you, it’s her. She’s a magician with this stuff.

Then, her least favorite part. She asks for a volunteer, just for a moment, just for a prompt. We can’t theorize our way into making art. We gotta do it. All the energy that had built up and the excitement on the kids’ faces fizzle. She’ll give it a few seconds and look at the adults in the room rather than the kids, half-pleading, half-resigned, then laugh like that was expected, like she asked them to skydive with no parachute.

She’ll let off steam about it later, when they’re in the car, when they’re back in her suite at the Library of Congress. How hard is it to set an example? They introduce me like I’m Nelson fucking Mandela but as soon as I ask them to engage for the sake of their kids, crickets.

Mattie, Johnny’ll say, it’s not that—

It’s because they don’t take this seriously. All this talk about how important artistic outlets are, but God forbid you have to do that art yourself. Because that’s not serious, that’s not real. She lets her bag hit the ground harder than necessary and runs her hands over her face before ripping open her beat-up laptop, mumbling to herself. It’s fine. It’s about the kids, it’s about the kids.

Bill’ll send a get a load of this guy eyebrow around to the other three, but Joe usually finds himself nodding in agreement with Mattie. Poet Laureate is quite a title, but it doesn’t mean anything when no one’s listening. People should listen.

So, on this particular Friday as Tyler, who reminds Joe of Bull—well-built and curly blonde—takes the awkward silence to look at him and the rest of the agents rather than his teachers or Mattie, Joe decides that it changes today. He knows the answers to her prompts already—think of a fruit, apple; think of a color that’s not also the color of an apple, purple. A four-man detail has one redundant agent and all entrances and exits have been secured; the other three can spare him for a while.

He pushes off the eastern wall or the room and half-raises a hand before fully raising it when he sees Mattie’s eyes light up upon realizing what he’s doing. He answers her questions only slightly disquieted by the sudden amount of eyes on him, but as she starts her poem building exercise with a thankful wink, he feels pretty good about it. He’s doing the thing, making art instead of theorizing, setting the example.

More like sitting the example. In his two months with Mattie, he forgot that making art could mean… y’know, making it, not just writing it down. It’s the whole point of the exercise, actually. Ten minutes of silent work, discussion, ten minutes of work with light conversation—Mattie’s the queen of light conversation, then presentations from anyone who wants to. The only rules are that you have to make something, whether it be using the poem prompt she walks them through or something from the classroom supplies at your teacher’s discretion.

The kids who wanted to write set off with their paper and pencils and Mattie walks around for a bit before settling into an empty chair and fiddling with the paper clips a girl is using crafts. Tyler wanders by first, then two of his friends, next a few of their friends, and soon, there’s a bundle of 7th graders watching Mattie make a paper clip ring. And of course, they want to make one too and of course, Mattie needs a model for show because if all of the kids are making one and she’s teaching, then who’s driving the boat? And of course Joe gets pulled in because he volunteered so nicely before.

The circle of children parts like the Red Sea and he’s face-to-face with Mattie again as she wraps the ring around his finger, her hands working around his to fit the metal securely. She’s full of focus, eyes locked on where their skin meets, still in her shoulders and steady in her breathing in the way she only ever is when she’s in the zone. He wants to laugh at the dedication to this tiny strip of wire, but he won’t, not in present company; he can’t have them think he’s laughing at her.

Maybe you don’t have to have volunteers, Johnny offers after their third visit with no adult participation.

Mattie sighs. It’s about the principle of the thing.

Oh, Bill snarks, the principle of the thing.

The kids don’t need to follow the teachers, they follow you just fine, Bull says from his spot at the door.

Johnny nods sagely. Yeah, monkey see, monkey do.

Well, Mattie says, tilting her head in sad consideration, maybe I’d hoped there’d be better monkeys.

Joe is being a better monkey, so no laughing. Instead, he looks from her face to their hands, wondering as always what she sees and how she sees it. It’s not just metal and space to her because nothing is ever just anything to her.

Her brain’s wired different than ours, as Bill says. And Johnny says, your brain isn’t wired at all.

He’s sure she’s watching the steel atoms bump into each other or she’s far beyond, watching the solar system spin on its galactic arm, just a blip in the rapidly approaching collision with Andromeda. Or she’s in both places at once, and here with him, too, capable of holding onto every eon and tense and time zone at once. He doesn’t understand it, not yet, where the poet ends and the person begins.

“There!” Mattie says, sitting back. Joe holds still for what seems like far too long as the kids investigate her handiwork and investigate him. Their inquisitive gazes wander from the ring to his face, some of them leaning in to squint at him, evaluative and unimpressed.

Most of them have figured what he’s doing here, with three other guys who have similar enough haircuts and stand with hands clasped at rest in front of them, plain clothed but suspiciously so. He likes kids, or at least, he’s discovered that he likes them more than he thought he would. They don’t understand that it’s some people’s job to fly under the radar. They meet his gaze as much as they meet Mattie’s instead of politely ignoring him and his fellow agents like adults know to do. And when they do look at him, they don’t care. He has to respect that.

He’s watching Mattie shape a paperclip for a kid when Tyler suddenly fills up his entire field of vision, staring wide-eyed like Joe is a fish in a tank. “Do you have a gun?”

“Okay,” Mattie says, reaching out and clapping Tyler on the shoulder, “it seems like we’re ready for presentations! Let’s take our seats.”

Joe bolts out of his chair and takes his place along the wall again as Mattie wraps up.

He doesn’t realize he still has the heart-shaped ring on until they’re back at the Library of Congress and walking into Mattie’s suite. It’s so light that he forgets he's wearing it and it’s only as she sets her bag down and the flower ring one of the girls gave her catches the sun that he remembers what sits on his finger.

He slips it off and holds it out to her. “Here.”

She takes it gently, turning it over in her decorated hands before flipping it back to him like a coin. “It’s a gift,” she says with a wink, “for being my guinea pig.”

His mouth opens to say something, anything, but the words die in his throat. Taking a moment, he studies it for the first time. It’s a delicate thing, slightly springy if he squeezes the sides, more of a square than a circle, and so very Mattie that he’d pick her if someone had him guess at the maker. The heart has been roughly colored by a red Crayola marker which she’d gotten all over a desk and apologetically wiped up and the imperfections of it—the bends that won’t come out from the original shape, the matte sheen from all the handling—makes it more beautiful.

He doesn’t know where to put it. It’ll fall right off the chain of his cross, and he can’t wear it and risk it getting snagged on something, but he wants it around. He wants to be able to see it and remember a day that was good, a day when he felt like they made a difference, that he made a difference. He hadn’t had a day like that in a long time.

It ends up in his locker at the D.C. headquarters office. Bringing it home feels too… too close, but this is a good spot, halfway between head and heart. He places it on the little shelf in the back next to his spare sunglasses and his old dog tags. He can’t seem to bring those home, either.

Johnny shakes his head as he passes on the way to his locker.

Joe pauses. “What?”

“You can’t say no to that girl.”

This is what Johnny’s amusement was about earlier in the classroom. There was nothing wrong with Joe stepping up or sitting down for a demonstration—it’s encouraged actually, especially at schools, something about giving the Service a friendlier face. Johnny’s gripe is with who Joe stepped up for and why he did it.

“No favorites, Joe.”

“You think I’m playing favorites?”

“I think you don’t understand her.”

“And you do?”

Johnny shrugs and shuts his locker. “No, but I don’t try to. You can’t let it go.”

“I think,” Joe starts as he follows the other agent down to check-out, “that if we understand her, we can understand this guy and get him.”

It’s the one thing that bothers Joe about this case. Lots of people get threats—protecting those people is eighty percent of his job—but there’s something about the ones Mattie gets that doesn’t sit right with him, hasn’t since the beginning. The letters are the one inroad that anyone has to solve this thing and as more show up with diminishing progress from the combined efforts of the Service and the FBI, he thinks it’s time to get a move on. Maybe the missing link is in the protectee and not the thing they’re protecting her from.

What’s the harm in trying? He keeps thinking about where Mattie gets stuck in her job, where she’s given status but no authority, and how she keeps returning to her painted corner with a brave smile, gracious to wait there until she gets called up to do her tricks again. People listen to poetry but they don’t understand it, she says and that’s not fair. When he looks at Mattie, he sees a girl who should be understood as completely as possible, if ever possible.

Johnny flashes his badge at the front desk sensor and looks back at Joe. “It’s not your job to understand. It’s your job to stand there. What if something happened while you were getting your ring sized?”

Joe’s offended. “Sitting down means I’m compromised?”

“Getting involved means you’re compromised.” Johnny’s facing him now that they’re both in the exit lobby, a pensive look on his face as his bag is slung over his shoulder. “Look, Joe, they’re not paying us to think on this one. If you think something’s up, talk to Dick, otherwise, this is not the kind of work you bring home.”

Right, ‘cause Johnny’s a family man now, with a wife and a kid and a baby on the way.

“I didn’t bring it home,” Joe says.

Johnny nods but his eyes are far away. “Yeah, but you thought about it.”

Silence falls for a moment before Johnny sniffs and shoulders his bag. “Who’s on duty tonight?”

“Talbert and Grant,” Joe replies.

Johnny nods. “Make sure they take a look at the cameras, see if they can figure out why they’re down.”

“Yeah,” Joe sighs and heads out with a nod.

The drive home is quiet except for the radio and as he pulls into the parking lot, one of Mattie’s songs comes on the folk station he’s been lurking on. He sits for as long as it takes to play—eyes closed, head rested on his seat—and lets her voice wash over him. She sings like she speaks, brassy and casual, effortless, not having to reach for what she wants, alluring, magnetic in a way that gets under his skin. He listens for anything that could teach him something and he’s so caught up in the mystery of the girl and the thing that goes bump in the night, that he doesn’t listen to the lyrics until the chorus.

But I’m in so deep, she sings, you know I’m such a fool for you. You got me wrapped around your finger, oh. Do you have to let it linger?

“What the hell do you know about The Cranberries?” he asks to the air, smiling softly.

It ends too soon, but the cool night outside shocks the spell of Mattie’s voice from his system as he enters his dark apartment. His nights off-duty are more and more standard as this assignment goes on; he’ll check in with his older sister as he gets dinner ready—Mom’s arthritis is flaring worse than usual and his niece is deciding between swim and soccer camp, catch the Pirates highlights on ESPN, do the dishes, then do his readings.

He started them on a curious whim, just to see what the hype was about and ended up standing in the aisle of a Brentwood bookstore for fifteen minutes, engrossed, until the attendant asked him if he was going to be making a purchase. He bought three books, none of them very long, but he’s not a book guy so they’ve been a task to get through.

He read Letters from a Convict Child first because it’s the book that put Mattie on the map and wrote a man out of incarceration and he’s not sure that he got all of it—he’s not sure that he got any of it—but he understands her now, at least more than he did two months ago. Each poem that paints a picture of the world paints a picture of the writer, too, and sometimes he wants to look away as Mattie touches her own raw nerves to get the words out. But he stays for her, he stays because people always look away. That’s why she writes.

As of yesterday, he’s officially halfway through reading grow lemon grow poem by poem and as he finds tonight’s selection, he’s struck by the opening lines.

Wire hurts my hands, makes my fingers stink But I bend another paperclip

He underlines in his shitty pencil and reads the poem over and over again until his eyes start to droop close and he drags himself to bed wondering what Mattie’s night was like, if she offered her dinner to Tab and Chuck like she does he and Johnny, what music she played. It was Nina last week, but she’d spent the morning humming the Lumineers. Did she skip eleven songs before settling on the twelfth, or did she demand silence and curl up on the chair in the corner of her patio, legs tangled together, and write until Tab had to shuffle her to bed?

Did she make them rings despite the way the metal presses lines into the pads of her fingers? What did she say? Did either of them listen?

He jolts up in the dull gray light of morning, scrambling to shut off his alarm as his chest heaves. In the bathroom, he splashes his face with cold water until the scenes of his dreams—lemon trees, paper clip rings, the shredded and smoking hull of an armored vehicle in the desert, a shadowed figure slipping a letter under Mattie’s door—wash away with the chill. His phone dings.

From B. Guarnere: Ur on coffee duty. Hurry up

#mail call #Anonymous #shoshi's bday bash #i meant to publish this yesterday but when i went to reread it i added two more pages oops!#mattie james #mattie x joe #my writing #wordsmith au #shoshi tag

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finkinthisfrew · 1 year ago

Text

Anything (Pt.50)

cw: 18+ :)

"So... what's the good news?" I finally asked curiously as Matty finished wrapping the duvet tightly around us on the couch.

"Oh right!" he turned to smile at me. "Well, the good news is that we're semi-rested and awake now, and we have the next-" he looked up at the wall clock to check the time, "-9 or so hours to do whatever we like together." He smiled brightly at me, and I beamed back at him with excitement, and he was quick to add, "Within reason- no extreme sports for you, missy!"

"That's too bad, I was really hoping to go skydiving tonight," I said with an eye roll.

"I wouldn't put it past you!" he said. He laughed at my frown of bewilderment. "You're crazy enough to fall in love with me- skydiving must seem paltry to you in comparison."

"If you don't stop spewing this complete and utter nonsense I swear to god I'm going to sprint five laps around the house," I threatened Matty, pretending to go to stand up.

"Oi! I've got it- don't give me a heart attack, now!" he said, grabbing my arms and pulling me back down to lay beside him as I giggled.

"So what would you like to do, my love?" he asked sweetly.

"If I could do anything? ...I wish we could do a little of everything..." I started.

I glanced out the window at the darkened sky and was bummed to see that it had begun to rain. I loved the rain, and I adored walking in it, but I knew Matty wouldn't let me in my current state, especially after he'd already gently scolded me for running outside earlier, worried I was going to catch a cold. I had been hoping for clear skies anyway so we could star gaze.

"Like what, darling?" Matty prompted.

"I love how cozy it gets when it rains," I said wistfully as I watched the raindrops dance on the concrete tiles of Matty's patio. "But it would've been nice to go outside for a bit and get some fresh air."

"What would you like to do outside?" Matty asked curiously.

"Take a walk... go for a picnic... Lay in the park and read together... " I listed off, getting lost a little in my daydream.

"What else?" Matty encouraged, watching my daydream-glazed eyes continue to wander deeper into my fantasies with a smile. "What else would you have us do, darling?" he whispered.

"Go for dinner somewhere fancy... Watch you perform on stage... I'd love to go out dancing with you, though I don't think I'm gonna want to do that for a while..." I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking the thought from my head as I continued. "But I want all the frills that come with it- you taking me home at the end of the night, all silly and cute like you get after a few drinks, kissing on the walk home, then maybe kissing a little too much..." I said, trailing my fingers down Matty's chest seductively.

He snatched it quickly, planting a kiss in my palm.

"I think that might be in the same realm as extreme sports, darling," Matty chuckled, making me roll my eyes, trying and failing to not laugh.

He placed my hand against his cheek, nuzzling himself into my palm. I stroked his cheek with my thumb, enjoying the roughness of his unshaven face against my skin as he looked deep into my eyes. I watched as his eyes, soft and kind, suddenly sparked with an idea, making him smile brightly at me.

"Come on, petal, I've got an idea," he said before swiftly standing up, gathering me and the duvet up in his arms in the process.

"What, Matty?" I asked him as he walked us out the door and down the hallway towards his bedroom. He stayed silent as he took me to his bed, carefully placing me in the centre.

"Will you be okay if I leave you for 15 minutes?" he asked with wide eyes.

"Sure, but what-" I started before Matty cut me off with a swift kiss on the lips.

"I'll come get you in a bit- I promise I'll be quick," he said as he tripped over himself, rushing over to the door. "Rest up and call my name if you need anything- but no peeking!" he wagged his finger before pulling the door shut behind him.

Deciding I didn't have enough energy to question Matty, I decided to lay back to rest a little more so I could stay up as late as possible tonight before Matty's flight. My exhaustion took me the moment I let it, and for the next half hour, I dove in and out of sleep, interrupted only occasionally by distant bumps and mysterious noises drifting in from the hallway, as well as a couple of visits from Matty rifling around in the room and letting me know he needed a little longer than 15 minutes.

Almost an hour later, I heard the door creak open and shut closed accompanied by the sound of Matty's feet shuffling across the room.

"Time to get dressed, darling," he whispered in my ear, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"Dressed? I am dressed," I squinted my eyes open in confusion as I rolled over on my side in his direction.

"If you want to wear sweatpants on our date, you're more than welcome to. By the way- did I mention how gorgeous you look in them?" Matty beamed at me as he sat down on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on my hip.

"We're going on a date?" I asked, excitement gathering in my voice. "What are we doing?"

"Well since it's raining, and you're still recovering, I thought I could bring all your favourites to you," he said somewhat bashfully. "So I wanted to ask... would you like to go out with me, Anna?" he smiled down at me, offering me his hand.

"I'd love to," I said, taking his hand and letting him pull me up, noticing he was out of his sweatpants now and dressed smartly in a speckled grey knit sweater and a tailored pair of grey pleated trousers. His hair hung in damp curls, curlier than usual, and a silver earring hung from his ear. "But I don't have anything to wear!" I said, looking down self-consciously at my own outfit.

"We'll find you something," he said with a wink before pulling me into a gentle embrace.

Collaboratively, we decided on a black wifebeater and a black pair of Matty's dress pants, paired with a brown belt, cinching the loose pants around the small of my waist. Once Matty finished dressing me, after which I successfully hid my completely flushed face at just how hot the feeling of him strapping the leather belt on me was, he took my hand in mine and led us to the closed bedroom door.

"Would you like to go for a walk to the park with me, my darling?" Matty asked with a big grin.

Before I could ask Matty what he meant, considering we both knew a walk was likely too much for my current state, he swung the door open, making me gasp.

The hallway had been transformed into what could only be described as a magical garden path, complete with foliage, and candles. Matty had dragged in a few dozen plants from his beautiful garden patio and lit several candles lining the hallway all the way to the end. The leaves of the plants all sparkled, the dew which clung to their leaves (and now I realized likely Matty's hair from the number of trips he made out onto the patio) shining with the flickering candles. At the end of the hall, I could see a warm glow emitting from the dark living space.

I turned to look up at Matty with wide eyes. He simply beamed down at me, then took a step into the hall, pulling me with him. We strolled down the long hallway and both giggled giddily as I recognized the various plants from their different homes on the patio. As we reached the end of the hall and stepped into the dimly lit living room, I noticed Matty had cleared out a space in the centre of the floor and prepared a small picnic. He had laid down a blanket and put a variety of chopped-up fresh fruits he'd bought earlier, as well as some nuts and crackers he'd found in the pantry. He also had brought in another few dozen plants from the patio to place around the blanket and then circled the blanket with several string lights and a plethora of candles. It was our own little indoor evening picnic.

"Oh Matty," I said breath taken.

"Come, darling," he said with a proud smile as he knelt us both down to the blanket.

We sat down and began to munch on our snacks as Matty pulled out a book. It was a book of poetry by various authors, including Pablo Neruda- the same poet we read on the beach together in Panama. He poured us each a cup of tea from his thermos (which made me giggle) and then got us comfortable. Matty sat with his back resting against the back of the couch, and I sat between his legs, reclining against his chest. Then, he opened the book and began to read.

Love poem after love poem, he read the most romantic literature, staining it with his melodic voice and northern accent. I loved it so much. I was in heaven lying there in his lap.

"Matty, this is so sweet. I'm so touched," I said after Matty finally finished reading, placing the book down as he reached for his phone which had lit up with a notification for the fourth time. He leaned over to make eye contact with me.

"Oh, this is only the beginning of the date. I hope you're not too full from the snacks because we have a dinner to attend," he said with a sly look.

I couldn't help but laugh with joy. Matty smiled and laughed in response, and it warmed my heart to see him become so happy when he saw me happy. It felt special.

Matty led me to the dining table which I hadn't noticed was already set with dishes, glasses and unlit candles. He tucked my chair in behind me before running downstairs to grab the delivery. I grabbed the matchbox from the end of the table and began to light the candles one by one as I waited for Matty to return.

"I wasn't sure what you'd be in the mood for-" he called out as he started to walk back up the stairs, "-but I didn't want to spoil the surprise so I just ordered a bunch of different things from your favour- Excuse me!"

I froze, the lit matchstick hovering in the air.

"You are being pampered, missy! You aren't to lift a finger! Do you hear me?" Matty said as he plopped the takeout on the counter before coming over and giving me a loud kiss on my cheek, then blew out the lit match.

"I don't mind helping- you've put in so much work already!" I protested.

"I won't be having any more of this! You are a princess! Princesses don't do the work of mere peasants such as myself!" he frowned stubbornly as he scolded me.

"Kiss me," I said suddenly.

"Huh?" Matty asked, caught off guard.

"I said kiss me. If I'm a princess I should be allowed to command you, shouldn't I? Well, I want a kiss," I said pompously.

Matty's look of confusion slowly morphed into one of understanding and satisfaction.

"As the lady wishes," he said with a smirk. He looked so sexy when he smirked.

Later, after we finished eating our dinner, Matty led me over to the couch where he told me to sit and wait for him. He disappeared for several minutes and I tried not to peek down the hallway to see what he was up to. Eventually, I heard his voice, purposefully muffled, ring out in an announcer's voice.

"Introducing, the greatest band of all time, at their very best, the nineteen seventyfiiiiiive!"

Matty jogged into the room in his usual concert outfit, a half-unbuttoned white dress shirt tucked into black dress pants, carrying an acoustic guitar in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. I cheered, squealing with excitement as he came up to the couch, dragging a barstool with him. He propped himself up on the stool and beamed down at me from his makeshift stage.

"I'm pretty sure you meant it when you said you wanted to see me drunk and silly, so while alcohol is off the table for you- as per the doctor's orders," he said sympathetically, his eyes turning tentative, "I figured I could drink for you if that's something you'd like? Obviously nothing excessive... But I know you like it when I get a bit silly."

"Are you kidding me? Yes, please!" I said, completely over the moon. The thought of Matty getting all cute and drunk made my heart flip-flop.

"I had a sneaking suspicion you'd like that, you freak," he teased with a laugh, making me giggle in the process.

Matty opened the bottle, taking a large swig as I watched his face transform into his performance mindset. I cheered and wooed loudly, mocking the sounds of a giant audience, as he sang. He crooned, he wailed, he danced, flirting with me through little winks and smiles the whole time between healthy gulps of wine. I'd fan myself in response and sing along with him, which only made him smile wider.

By the end of the fifth song, the bottle of wine was less than half full, and I could see from the goofy smile on Matty's face he was starting to feel a little silly. His energy was infectious as we continued to play our roles of rockstar and fan, exchanging flirtatious lines.

"God does the crowd look gorgeous tonight," he smiled down at me.

"Have my babies, Matty Healy! Woooo!" I cheered.

He set his guitar down with a chuckle as he grabbed the remote to the stereo and turned on some soft music. Then he walked over to where I sat on the couch and reached out to pull me up into his arms.

"I don't usually like to ask my fans out, but you're extra pretty," he said with a cheeky smile, his eyes only slightly drooping as leaned down towards my lips. "Have you got a boyfriend I should worry about?" he asked in a low, dark and flirtatious voice, his lips hovering in front of mine as his hands slipped around my waist, holding me up with his strong arms. His eyes flicked up from my mouth, and I could feel his breath on my lips- making the hair on the back of my neck rise in excitement as my insides melted from lust. I was like putty in his hands standing there in his embrace as we swayed to the music.

"Yes," I breathed back as I stared at Matty's perfect lips which parted slightly. "He's very big and very strong and very sexy. He'd beat you to a pulp if he knew some rockstar was hitting on me right now," I whispered seductively as his eyelids fluttered in ecstasy at my compliments. I loved the way his drunken state gave away his turn-ons so obviously.

"Well I'd better take you home before he can find us, then," he smirked, then took my lower lip between his teeth, tugging on it passionately as he reached his hand up to my throat, letting it linger there for a moment before wrapping it around to cradle the back of my head as he kissed me.

I could have kissed him forever, but he pulled away right as I started to press myself into him, smiling down at me smugly as I panted in his arms.

"You're such a tease," I whined, smacking his chest gently in frustration.

"And you're going to catch a cold on the walk home," he said with a smile, then grabbed a coat he had stashed away behind a pillow, then draped it around my shoulders as I laughed. "Shall we?" he said as he offered me his arm.

I nodded wrapping mine around his as we walked out of the living room and back down the hallway. After we reached the bed, I lay down on top of the duvet as Matty ran out of the room, dutifully blowing out all the candles in the other rooms before running back into the room and jumping onto the bed, making me giggle. He lay down next to me, propping his head up with his elbow as he took my hand in his.

"I'm sorry we can't do much in terms of the bedroom stuff," he said apologetically as he massaged my index finger. "I really would've loved to make you feel good tonight," he said earnestly as he brought my finger to his mouth, placing a kiss on the tip.

I lay there wistfully looking at his handsome smile, enjoying the way his curls fell across his forehead and how his cheeks flushed pink from the wine. A generous portion of his chest was exposed thanks to his undone shirt, taunting me with skin that begged to be touched. He lay there so innocently, and it only made me hornier.

"That doesn't mean that you shouldn't feel good tonight..." I said as I moved my finger down to his chest, trailing the edge of the tattoo on his chest suggestively.

"Darling," he blushed. "As much as I'd love that right now," he said, brushing his hair out of his eyes bashfully, then feeling the heat of his cheeks with the back of his hand, "There's no way I'm letting you do anything. You're meant to be resting."

I snuck my hand underneath his, cupping his cheek tenderly before stroking his lips with my thumb, dipping it in his mouth briefly as his lips parted automatically at my touch.

"But look how hard you are," I pouted without needing to glance at the tent that had grown in Matty's pants. He quickly grabbed a pillow, covering his still-growing erection.

"Don't mind that," he said with a gulp. "I'm not letting you jerk me off darling- and please please, I beg you, don't make me repeat myself because I definitely don't have it in me to say no again," he pleaded.

"Well if I can't... Can you?" I asked, tugging gently at the pillow.

Matty gulped again as he read the lust on my face. He raised his eyes into a look of shock and eagerness.

"You want... you want to watch?" he asked tentatively as he unsuccessfully tried to hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

I nodded, maintaining eye contact with him as I did.

"Very, very badly," I emphasized.

He pondered in thought, obviously trying to search for any possible holes in the plan. It was so sweet how well he wanted to take care of me in my current state, but I couldn't care less if it would excite me too much. All I cared about was him right now.

"Alright then. Come here," he said, hopping up out of bed suddenly. He offered me his hands and I took them, giving him a look of confusion in the process. He pulled me up close to him, looking down at me, letting his curls tickle my forehead as his brown eyes bore into mine.

Wordlessly, he ran his hands down my back. As he reached my lower back, his hands trailed down further, gripping my ass firmly and pulling me into his hips, pressing his erection against me. He dove into my neck, planting his mouth on my sensitive skin, sucking and pulling on the skin with his teeth, making me moan in the process.

"You're a little overdressed for bed," he whispered in a low voice as he trailed little slow kisses up my neck to look down at me from under dark lashes.

His hands travelled to the front of my pants, taking my belt into his strong grip. He yanked me towards him, ever so slightly, then undid my belt roughly, every tug short but sharp, moving my hips in whichever direction he pleased. I felt myself growing wet as we gazed at each other through hazy eyes, eye contact unbreaking. I almost moaned at the sound of the belt slapping against his wrist as he finally yanked it off.

After he slowly peeled my clothes off, leaving only my underwear on, he guided me back to the bed before standing at the end and letting me watch him undress. He looked me straight in the eye as he unbuttoned his shirt, slowly slipping it off his torso. His hands reached down to his belt and I finally broke eye contact to watch his strong hands, savouring the prominent veins as they expertly undid the leather that held up his trousers. The button and fly were undone in a heartbeat, and suddenly he was sliding his pants down, revealing the enormous erection that strained against the white cotton fabric of his boxer briefs.

His hand trailed down behind the waistband of his boxers, pulling out his hardened cock, then began to stroke it slowly. I let his eyes trail over my exposed body as he jerked off, biting my lip as I watched him stand there growing even harder at the sight of my body. I watched as the muscles in his chest tensed tightly, moving under his skin as he pumped his cock in his hand, his chest rippling like sunlight on a flowing creek.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous, Anna," his throat squeezed out as he worked, his head tilting back in pleasure with a frown.

"Come here," I said, patting the bed beside me gently.

He obliged immediately, laying back beside me and turning his head to continue roaming my body in boyish curiosity.

I reached out, trailing my fingers over his pecs, enjoying the feeling of his muscles which flexed over and over under my skin. My own curiosity overtook me as my fingers found his nipple. I pinched it lightly, looking up at Matty's face which watched me desperately, now screwing into a new look of pleasure. His eyes rolled into the back of his head briefly as he groaned in response, then began pumping himself quicker. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lower lip as I teased his nipple, his breaths becoming shorter and sharper as he worked.

"Matty," I whispered.

His hazy eyes looked over at me from behind the lust that weighed his eyelids down. His lips, puffy and pink from clenching at them so much with his teeth, were parted, begging to be kissed.

"I'm so wet right now," I said, a small smile growing on my lips as he groaned even louder, his chest caving in with frustration as he pumped even faster now. His cheeks puffed up and then hollowed as he blew out a breath, biting back more moans. I could tell he was getting close.

"Matty," I said again, reaching out to his free hand which lay tensed into a fist beside him. "I want you to feel how wet I am," I said, taking his hand which relaxed at my touch and guiding it to my stomach.

"Anna," he began to protest, the hand around his cock slowing slightly.

"Shhh," I shushed him as I guided his fingers down under the waistband of my panties, moaning quietly as his calloused fingers slid freely over my soaking-wet slit. This time he moaned- loudly.

"I want to fuck you so bad, Anna," he said as he bit back another moan, turning the sound into a growl as he felt my wetness, his fingers beginning to circle my clit.

"Then fuck me," I gasped, his fingers sending shockwaves through me.

"Fuck, Anna, you're making this really hard," he grunted, though his fingers in my panties didn't slow.

"I can see how hard," I teased seductively, my eyes watching the pink tip of his cock. I knew he was moments from breaking. I arched my back, letting a moan flow freely from my mouth as Matty continued to rub my clit. I felt his eyes watching me, taking in every little movement, glued to my body.

"I need you, Matty," I whined, my body now completely on fire for him.

He was jerking himself off in a frenzy now, completely overwhelmed with the voices of reason and doubt in his head. I smiled, knowing exactly how to push him to the edge.

"Please, daddy?" I said, emphasizing the last word with a pout. And then, I knew it was over.

"Oh fuck it," he growled loudly before flipping over and running his hands down my body. He frantically placed kisses down my naked stomach, then, as he reached my panties, he ripped them off me in the blink of an eye, his desire for me now animalistic.

"I can't help myself around you," he mumbled as his kisses trailed back up my body. His lips reached mine and he looked down at me, his face serious now. His hand snaked around my throat, tightening every so slightly. My heart stuttered, his dominant energy making me breathlessly horny.

"Move an inch and I pull out, got it?" he threatened. I could tell he meant what he said as he placed a gentle kiss on my cheek in reassurance. "You're my little pillow princess tonight."

I gasped loudly as he entered me, slowly filling me up with his hard length. He rocked back and forth, teasing my G-spot over and over as my orgasm coiled tightly within me, begging to be released.

"Fuck," I whined. I felt Matty's cock twitch inside me at my noises, which only made me moan more, and in turn, made him moan. We fed each other endlessly, turning each other on more and more. He kissed me urgently, his lips feverish against mine as he fucked me deeper, his pace quickening.

"Matty, please..." I whined, my pleasure interrupting me.

"What, baby girl?" he asked darkly in my ear, but his pounding was relentless, and I could only moan loudly in response. He slowed his pace, moving his free hand down to rub circles into my throbbing clit, then asked again, "Tell daddy what you want."

I whined even louder this time as his fingers pushed me closer to my climax.

"Spit," I choked out between gasps of pleasure, "Please- spit-"

I almost came as he smirked down at my desperation. He was so fucking sexy. He began to fuck me faster again, but his hand didn't leave my clit, pushing me dangerously close to the edge now.

"Come here. Come on now, open your mouth for me- there's a good girl," he said with a smug smile. "Open wide. No- wider," he commanded, his face turning stoic again with lust. I watched as his lips pursed before he spat into my open mouth, my back arching uncontrollably as I groaned loudly. I was seconds away and he knew it.

"Are you gonna cum for daddy now?" Matty cooed tauntingly in my ear as his fingers rubbed my clit even faster, and at that, I lost it. My entire body unravelled as I came, my legs shaking as he continued to pound into me, pushing my orgasm further and further.

"That's right, cum all over daddy's cock like a good little girl- fuck," I heard him groan, then whimper above me, releasing his cum inside me, filling me up as he pumped himself into me, riding both of our orgasms out to the very last moment.

Eventually, he slowed, panting above me before collapsing onto me. His chest, now slick with sweat, slid off of mine as he moved to lay next to me, then slowly scooped me into his arms and pulled me into him, spooning me from behind. He placed slow tender kiss after slow tender kiss on my bare shoulder as we caught our breaths.

"I can't believe you tricked me," he teased into my ear.

"I'm glad I did," I said defensively before wriggling around in his tightened grip to face him. "I think this was my favourite night ever, Matty. Not just because of that- because of everything."

Matty beamed at me.

"I think it was my favourite night too," he agreed breathlessly. "I adore spending time with you Anna. I can do anything with you and enjoy myself. I'm happiest when I'm with you."

"I feel the same way," I said as I nodded happily. "Thank you for being here. And for taking such a terrible memory and turning it into such a beautiful one. I love you so much, Matty. Thank you."

"No thanks needed," he smiled back at me. "Your companionship is thanks enough. God, I'm the luckiest man on the planet," he said in wistful disbelief as his eyes looked back and forth between mine. "But if you trick me again, I'm not explaining to Agatha why we were doing extreme sports together in the early morning, got it?" he said sternly.

"I got it," I giggled as Matty pulled me closer into his chest. "I got it."

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