#I can’t wait to do some later designs >:]

[davidisnotmyname]

MAJOR FUCKING SPOILERS FOR THE SEVENTH COMIC (also this post is really long be warned)

Okay I wanted to give my thoughts on the seventh comic because I, a sleep deprived teenager with absolutely no knowledge on comic making or writing, feel that my opinion is logical and good /s

First off, my immediate reactions to the comic:

OH MY FUCKING GOD THATS A CHILD. THATS SOLDIER’S AND ZHANNA’S CHILD. THATS THEIR BABY. WHAT THE FUCK

the second I saw this shit I knew this comic was gonna give me an aneurysm (in a good way).

waitasecond…

THERESTWOOFTHEMOHMYGOD (also im so fucking happy that the joke I see in fan media a lot about Soldier naming his kids stuff like that is officially canon)(also east meets west fans were eating good this comic)

I like that the comic creators have put so much focus on Spy and Miss Pauling’s relationship. Not only is their dynamic great, but it shows that Spy isn’t a heartless jackass and he not only genuinely cares about the people around him, but can and will show it (I mean most of us knew that already but… someeeee people have fallen victim to the temptations of flanderization)

you’re gonna see this come up a lot in my rambling but I fucking love the shit the mercs are doing in the background, their expressions are so funny: Heavy is sick of their shit

Demo is asleep

Scout can’t breathe

Spy is also sick of their shit

Medic (and that godforsaken baby baboon) is sightseeing

Pyro is having the time of their life

and Sniper and Pauling are just trying to make sure they don’t all fucking crash and die

This is irrelevant as fuck (but most of the stuff I say is) but I just wanted to bring up how much I liked the secretary’s design. It’s very pleasing to look at.

They are like ants to me. I want to put them in a jar with holes in the lid and a bunch of leaves and then roll them down the stairs

I know this might not be what the scene is trying to imply, but fuck yeah, lesbianism (also thank god they gave Scout some semblance of character development, they are very cute as friends)

more background mercs. Medic and Pyro in particular have me in hysterics (this comic has so much good shit I can use for my discord pfp). Also Demoman my belemoman

GOD I FUCKING LOVE THE CHARACTER DESIGNS SO MUCH, thank you young Administrator for reminding me that I am in fact gay in every direction. RIP Admin, she served cunt and died

Get that fucking thing away from me

MAKAMI!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! THIS SHIT BELONGS IN THE LOUVRE!!!!!!! THIS IS GENUINELY THE MOST INCREDIBLE PANEL IN ALL OF THE COMICS, I AM AWESTRUCK

Yet again more background mercs. They saw your AO3 history.

okay I was gonna say something but my phone flagged this image as nudity for some fucking reason? What

anyways, as I was saying:

GAY (guys listen it’s canon okay you have to believe me guys wait come back no wait)

also my first thought when I saw this was “heavy is trying to hold him back from doing weird shit to the corpses,” and I don’t care how anyone else interprets it because I am objectively the most correct /j

also looking back at this I’m realizing heavy’s hands are almost the size of medic’s entire torso lmao tf2 isn’t beating the yaoi hand accusations

I’m actually gonna be sick and die oh my god what the fuck is wrong with me

I’m not gonna put all of the panels cuz I feel like it’ll get annoying quick + the image limit, but the whole series of Pauling just standing there as the Admin is cosplaying a Nature Valley Honey and Oats Bar while everyone slowly trickles out of the room just hits so hard and so good. These comics are such a compelling narrative disguised as a series of shitposts and I’m all for it.

MISS P. NAME DROP???!!!!! (Also can we get an F in the chat for all the Francine Pauling truthers)

He is literally her dad I don’t make the rules (also yes I’m aware that it’s stated that he’s her legal guardian literally two panels later so this joke really isn’t funny, but none of my jokes are so what’s your point)

Yet another casual masterpiece by Makami, with the added bonus of the subject being a beautiful hairy old man who’s built like a fucking brick house. Heavy Weapons Guy TF2 I wish you were real. Also bearded heavy goes hard, i need to cook him into a fucking soup oh my god

Hey chat so did you know I’m actually going to be inconsolable for the next three years. Also this is obviously photoshopped we all know his last name is Elbertson (no but seriously I actually started running around my room and rolling on the floor when I got to yet another name drop)

Okay, I need to either say this now or have it fester in my psyche for eternity. That haircut gave me physical and psychic damage when I first saw it. Scout tf2, you’re ugly as shit but that’s honestly poggers, welcome to the club man (also oh my god he looks so much like Jerma I’m screaming, but Jerma isn’t ugly though I promise I would never diss my king like that)

Nobody talk to me

I SAID NOBODY FUCKING TALK TO ME

spy with his granddaughter, he loves her so much but still can’t bring himself to reveal who he truly is. I actually can’t fucking do this anymore this comic is gonna have me keel over and die of a heart attack

That’s it. Get in the fucking wood chipper right now /j seriously though I can’t even begin to explain how much this scene means to me. Spydad was one of the main things that got me so interested in tf2 over a year ago, and seeing him and Scout not only being civil about it, but genuinely caring about each other is everything. I’ve never been one for spydad angst (no shade if you do like it, I just personally prefer happier stuff), so I’m glad that this was the route the comics took with that plot point.

also don’t think I’m not gonna bring up the fucking mask. after seventeen years, we finally have spy’s face. Not only that, but the reveal was done through him giving it to his granddaughter. It’s done in such a casual and sweet way but it’s so impactful. He can be vulnerable around these people. This man, who’s spent his life building up walls around himself, refusing to let anyone through to the point of wearing that stinky ass balaclava everywhere, can now freely live as himself with his son and grandchildren. I’m gonna start eating screws I swear to god.

oh fuck I hit image limit hang on I have a little bit more to say check the reblogs the rest of my descent into madness will be present there shortly.

[zer0-devoox]

Serial designation V psychological analysis

Let’s start with this.

From the pilot, the first and clearest introduction we have of V is as a cold-blooded killer, which leads us to draw several conclusions:

• she DON'T feel guilt or other emotions for being practically a psychopath, right?

• Pretending (and perhaps overacting) not to know N.

• She’s sexy—wait, what?

If there’s one thing I can say with my eyes closed, it’s that V’s personality throughout the series (at least until episode six) is a defense mechanism. Having suffered firsthand the atrocities of AS, V had to find a way to stay sane and assured herself that it didn’t hurt to make N suffer, that it didn’t hurt to be a complete bitch to the people around her, and that it didn’t hurt to kill people.

(That last one is a given; what did you expect? You can’t ask for moral consequences for murder; we’re in Murder Drones.)

A haughty, playful personality that is, to some extent, easy to anger. I don’t deny that many of these traits may have developed over time, but most are tropes that hide what’s really inside—a traumatized girl who lost everything and was turned into a killing machine.

(Some might say that I justify V’s actions when it comes to killing, and yes, I do; number 1, we’re in MD, and number 2, she’s my favorite character. What did you expect?)

To some extent, her diva complex hides insecurities (???)

The point is that this girl hardened herself, sharpened her teeth and claws, and did what she had to do to survive—from killing random workers, beheading N in cold blood, to manipulating a teenager and pretending to be her best friend to kill everyone (can we talk about how in "The Promening," V tried to negotiate with N and keep Uzi alive?)

A little extra note: rewatching the series for this summary, I can notice that V still retains some behaviors from her previous self, like when she blows bubbles or when at the end of "Cabin Fever," she smiles upon seeing Uzi with N.

In a way, I can assure you that V is simply TERRIFIED—terrified of herself, terrified of what they are now, and of Uzi, of Cyn.

Disorders:

Perhaps (with the risk of being wrong) Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

We have several clues about this, like when in "Cabin Fever," she calls Uzi "Cyn."

That’s a detail we’ll discuss later.

Besides that, she’s always on alert and has her claws ready for any danger that may arise (another symptom of PTSD), and her aversion towards Uzi because when she sees her, she doesn’t see Uzi.

She sees Cyn...

People who ship VxN (sorry, I’m not a fan of the ship, but I don’t judge; I’ll try to give my opinion without it sounding like a criticism) always argue that V feels jealous of Uzi. But you know? I... don’t see it that way, at least not completely. I think V does feel jealousy, but more than romantic jealousy, it’s more of a necessary attachment feeling. Let me explain:

Let’s remember that J is dead, so if we add 2 + 2, we can understand what’s happening here: V is ALONE and the only "functional" support network she has left is N and only him.

And also when she tries to keep Uzi away from N because deep down, her clearest thought was that they were going to end up hurting each other, or Uzi would hurt N and the guilt could lead her to suicide, or N would have to kill Uzi if Cyn took over her body.

This is why she clings to him with teeth and claws, and this gradually gets better as the series progresses. Evidence of this is in episode 6 when she sees N holding hands with Uzi and her only reaction is "agh" (How I love episode six!!!)

I’ve already talked more in-depth about the climax of episode six, which is a key moment for the character; if you want to go see it, I’ll leave it at the end of this post.

My theory of post-traumatic stress increases with chapter 8 when we see the true V for the first time—someone damaged, scared of all the damn traumas she carries, who has had to endure practically alone all the atrocities that Cyn committed at her expense, and above all, that what she did, she did for N (I have some issues with this chapter, but let’s ignore that for now).

This is where I cry because we realize that V had hope that��after doing her job, Cyn would leave them alone—she had faith of being free, and it could not bring me more satisfaction to know that (unlike J) she could find her freedom by ending what bound her, accepting her traumas, and fighting against them (literally), and finally finding a new life with the other two idiots.

The only people who, despite what she has done and her flaws, accepted and loved her.

To wrap up, I want to clarify something:

V IS somewhat psychopathic.

V DOES kill in cold blood.

V IS a diva.

But V is not just that; she is a complex character with layers and nuances and a girl who has suffered the atrocities of a pompous being who treats them as toys. I don’t expect to encompass all the psychology of the character in this summary (because I’m not a psychologist), but I hope I’ve done some justice for my favorite character UwU.

[Conclusion]

The truth is that I’m a bit saddened by V’s development. It’s not bad development by any means, but the potential she had was somewhat cut short due to the limited screen time. Although honestly, Liam is a fucking genius who managed to package such a beautiful series into eight episodes.

Thank you, Murder Drones; thank you for informing me, for allowing me to draw my lesbian ships, for making me laugh so many times and bringing me to tears so easily, thank you for the two years I spent alternating between making theories at three in the morning and waiting for the episodes, having to save money just to be able to download the episodes and download all the possible fanarts on Pinterest. Thank you so much, Murder Drones, for marking my life and... if possible, one day, to do you justice.

🧡

[ki1ldeer]

Ok you know I can hardly call this a redraw. But it’s a redraw… in concept… in uhhh character placement? #4 of 4. Maybe I’ll do more later we’ll see

This I think is the VERY FIRST digital drawing of my trio from 2020. They were once friends you know

Emmeline changed a lot both in design and character. Liam hasn’t changed much in design but he’s very different in character (he used to be friendly). Finn’s name changed from Everett because I got really into life is strange 2 and there’s a guy named Finn in that game and I was like “… hmm wait 🤔” (his full name is still Everett Finneas Mercer tho). Also can’t exactly remember why I decided they weren’t friends anymore?? I know Liam was always intended to be magical in some way (though it was originally he attracts magic but wasn’t magic himself) and one random day I was putting my laundry away and I was like “… Finn dies. OMG who said thaaat that’s so crazy I could neveeeeerrrr 🤭”

[keeweescribbles]

The Bad Kids except it’s just the freshman gal pals so far

Also ibis paint quality you can fight me

Edit: here’s the link to the guys’ post!

[screampied]

❛ BON APPÉTIT, BABY! ❜ g. satoru

☆ sum. stupid ovulation week is approaching soon and out of nowhere, you get baby fever. you ask your sugar daddy for help but his version of ‘help’ is trying to get you pregnant.

wc. 5.1k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), praise, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy, implied multiple rounds, size kink, ōral (f! receiving), he makes out w your panties, overstim, major brēeding kink, nıpple play, spıt, impact play, petnames.

➤ sd! gojo masterlist.

fuck, these cramps never knew when to quit.

you were crawled up in a ball on the sofa, suffering in agonizing silence. you sigh, taking a brisk glance near the grandfather clock that sits beside satoru gojo, your sugar daddy’s glass cabinets. oh, you missed him. it’s been a few good months with him as his sugar baby and you felt like a princess—no, a queen. he’s showered you with many many praises, not just gifts but of course, that too. you’re so lonely in his mansion, but you wondered what he was doing right now. probably working, you knew how busy of a businessman he was, but you missed him. his smell, his presence, his petnames. whipping out your phone, you unlock it, skimming toward his contact. ‘toru’ with a pretty pink heart as his contact, you text him a sweet forward ‘miss you.’

not even seconds later, he replies, giving your message a heart. ‘Hi, sweetheart. i miss you too. being a good girl for me, yeah?’

with a pout, your eyes skim through his flirty words and you press the video call button. you couldn’t wait. . you needed to see him. satoru answers it, and as expected, he’s sat upright in his office. so handsome, his snowy white hair was ruffled yet neatly slicked back and parted. he wore the suit you picked out for him, the jet-black one with a tie that makes his pretty blue eyes pop. “hey you,” a raspy voice utters on the phone, and he’s snickering at how you’re just lazily slump on the couch, bored out of your damn skull. “put some clothes on, darlin’.”

“no,” you grump, although you did have clothes on. clothes that basically consisted of a thin sage tank top and panties. satoru was typing on his computer. you heard the quickness of his fingers typing away as he’s taking every few glances to look at you again. “come home, ‘toru. these cramps are killin’ me,” and you mumble the last part under your breath. “. . andiwantababy.”

it’s a long silent pause and he’s fully looking at you through the screen now. all that could be heard in the background was the screeching and beeps of his costly fax machine.

satoru’s got a glint in his eyes before his voice pitches, and he slyly hums. “oh, you want a baby, sweets? my, you really do need me ‘ta come home, huh.”

you squeeze your thighs together, positioning your phone to lie in landscape mode—you were still a bit sensitive from earlier, from touching yourself. as your breath excitingly hitches, you couldn’t help but pout again.

“ ‘toru, think ‘m havin’ baby fever or something,” and your words were oh so sweet. satoru’s sitting up against his chair, leaning up against his palm. the shine of his expensive g-shock glimmers in the light within each time he moves. “come home, please.”

“sweetheart,” he tsks, two white arched brows piercing together. he could never say no to you, he spoiled you so much . . not that he never minded either. you were his baby, and satoru playfully scoffs at your needy declaration. “you really can’t wait another hour? i’m almost done.”

“no,” you grouse, a cute glower stretching across your features, marinating as you speak. satoru chuckles at your bratty persistence, and you watch as he fixes his tie, lightly tugging on it.

“fine, fine,” he gruffs. “i’m coming, princess. wear that new designer set i bought for you, okay? ya know the one, the rose-gold?”

smearing your glossed lips against each other, you give him a nod. you ached for him, each second you spent on the phone was a constant reminder of how he wasn’t there with you. satoru found your clinginess adorable though. it was cute how you’d always text and call him while he’s at work. even if his responses were hours late, he’d always get back to you, sending you sweet ‘hi baby’ and ‘i miss you more, pretty,’ ‘s.

if you were feeling bold, you’d send him a few pictures of yourself in one of the many expensive custom-made sets of lingerie he buys you.

his favorite would have to be the ‘satoru gojo’ exclusive brand of lingerie for women, he literally bought the entire stock of all colors just for you.

“okay,” you mumble, already making your way toward his bedroom. a few of his servants and butlers were dusting away at furniture and his entire mansion was huge. it was spacey, you could practically get lost in it. as you stomp lightly, the bare soles of your feet slide against the glassy-textured floor before you glance down at your screen. “drive safe.”

“i will, sweets. see you soon, yeah?”

with a beep, the call ends and it’s just you trapped in your own silent thoughts.

as you made your way to the master bedroom, immediately, you’re met with the loud cologne scent of satoru. it’s enchanting, it’s always the same smell of cinnamon and spices. satoru gojo always smelled rich regardless. rich was his middle name. you dig through your walk-in closet he had made for you, fishing out the set he wanted to see you wear. it was dashingly pretty.

he bought the rose-gold set as a gift for your birthday, and even if it did hurt his pockets a lot, he never cared. anything for you—his pretty baby.

about forty minutes later, satoru returns home finally and he yawns, stretching his long limbs. you scurry to him, your head reaching just near the center of his chest and he lightly jerks back.

“hey baby,” he returns the hug, big callused hands roaming up and down your exposed skin. the lingerie fit you perfectly, displaying your curves and gorgeous physique. satoru buried his face into the crook of your neck, planting a soft kiss. “you’re so spoiled. i can’t always leave work jus’ because you miss me, y’know.”

“i know,” you let off a soft moan, his soft lips creating gingerly mushy traces everywhere near your skin. he was always so tender, nips of kisses slowly turning into flicks with his tongue. satoru’s left hand slowly snakes near your leg, raising it up before wrapping it around his slim torso. your ankle rubs against the burberry belt he wore. it clanks loudly and he then lifts you up. “s- satoru!”

“what?” he hums, leading you closer toward the bed.

you heard the playfulness in his tone, and he’s got you in such a firm grasp. his fingertips continue to roam down your soft skin, snagging against the laced fabric that wraps around your body like a christmas present. “god, you’re so hot,” he murmurs in a raspy tone, and you glance at his parted slick backed hair. it’s unkempt now, white strands and tresses running down his eyes. he lies you down on the bed gently, and that’s when he gets on top of you.

you gulp, meeting the eyes of satoru. pretty blue eyes, they’re always so mesmerizing to look at.

but this time, he’s got a more feral look in his pupils as they dilate. “sweetheart,” he whispers, using a thumb to caress the edge of your twitching lip. with the way you’re prettily sprawled all out like this for him at his very mercy, there’s so much he wanted to do. satoru’s eyes never leave yours, not for a single second. “do you really want a baby or is just the baby fever?”

“b- both,” you gasp, not even noticing his hand creeping down between your legs, parting them apart.

you moan, feeling his palm rub up against the outline of your panties. so soaked, satoru’s breath hitches at your sweet whimpers and he’s so close up to you. so close that his rock-hard boner presses up against you and fuck, it’s hard. a visible tinted bulge was sticking out the center of his slacks and it’s driving him mad.

the mental image of you with a swollen tummy, all plump and baring his child, it makes him groan. satoru’s had his fair share amount of sugar babies in the past, but none of them were you.

“such a silly little girl,” he huffs, a bit of humor in his tone. but not wanting to waste any time, he leans in, capturing your lips into a deep hungry kiss.

whiny moans pour into his mouth - he’s sweet.

the minty kind of sweet where you taste peppermint lingering on his tongue.

satoru kisses sloppy this time, gradually grinding his body against yours. it’s incredibly sloppy, not much passion and more-so filth—strings of spit tangle with each other, forming little lustrous cobwebs of saliva before he sucks on your tongue. his pretty white lashes flutter before he opens them, staring at you, grunting right in your mouth. his boner continues to rub off against your clothed pussy and his groans only grow louder.

“fuuuuckk,” he swears, smacks of lips ringing through his ears. it was something about you, he didn’t know what it was but you were addicting.

satoru starts to peel off the pieces of lingerie piece by piece. by peel, he’s carelessly tearing through it as if the entire designer set didn’t cost him an arm, a leg, and a fucking torso. but again, even with his pockets swollen and suffering because of you, he’d buy you the whole world if he could. well, he probably could. he’s satoru gojo. “sweets, ‘m gonna devour you.”

five words.

five words that constantly went on a loop in your head as satoru’s eating out your cunt like a starved man.

he was starved, it’s been hours since he’s seen you. as he’s delving his face right between the plush of your thighs. you moan, chomping the front row of your teeth down on your quivering bottom lip. fuck, he was just nasty.

merely seconds passed and he’s already slobbering over your pussy. strands and strands of glossy spit trickles from his lips and onto your folds. “ ‘toruuuu,” you whimper, relishing in the way his tongue curls all throughout your drooling core. he’s maneuvering all kinds of shapes and circles, even spelling all letters of his name on your cunt with his tongue. scarlet plump lips of his gently kiss near your labia whilst warm breath ghosts near your sappy slit. shaking all from his tongue, the bed grows rickety from your movements and you inhale a sharp breath.

your fingers get intertwined between his white locks of hair and you pull tight.

his head tugs forward into you and he grunts, swaying his slick pink muscle in and out of your cunt. “mngh,” he groans, and that’s when he sneaks a hand between your pried open legs.

you stare down at him as he’s devouring you whole, slurping everything out of you until he’s satisfied - and that won’t be for a good while.

it doesn’t take a while before he’s already completely pussy drunk.

satoru’s fingers slither near your pussy and as his flat tongue repeats to lap lap lap up your syrupy sweet juices, he pops inside a single finger.

an exasperated breathy gasp snatches straight out the back of throat before you immediately feel the mouthwatering stretch of his digits and it’s toe curling.

if it was one thing about satoru, his fingers were long, slender, and also very very thick.

with a single swirl motion he’s making with his finger shoved deep inside, you’re already at the verge of breaking. crumbling because of his sloppy tongue. his fingers could stretch you out just as much as his cock could.

satoru even had you keep your panties on for him. the same panties he bought you as a gift.

a gift where he collaborated with victoria’s secret, your panties had both of his infamous initials bedazzled on the front and back. god, every time he traces his tongue over the tiny little beads, it drives him crazy every time.

you drive him crazy.

his flat laid tongue teasingly licks at the silk fabric before it turns into a whole raunchy make out sesh. pretty white lashes flap as he’s slurping everything out of you, missing no spot.

he couldn’t afford to, not when you tasted this good.

“we’re a ‘lil squirmy today, huh,” he snickers, feeling your weak thighs writhe because of his tongue.

it felt so good, the way he’s casually slurping you, eating your pussy as if it was the last thing to devour on earth. such raunchy sloshing sloshes cry out from your cunt and he groans. your fingers remain tangled in his hair, yanking on his messy tresses before he flicks his tongue against that spot.

it’s soft and spongy, and with the help of his long fingers curling and scissoring in and out of your sopping pussy, you let off a candied three-second shriek. “oh, darlin. found it, did i?”

“fuck, ‘toru,” your body falls back against the silk pillows.

multiple wanton whimpers slither from your lips as he’s continuously toying his tongue against your g-spot. it seemed as if his tongue was helping with your cramps entirely. such pressure builds up in your body and you were just so hot that you felt like you were gonna explode. “gonna cum, fuck fuck.” you’re babbling out pathetic cries that fall deaf to his pointed ears. satoru hums in smug amusement, jaw feeling tight and locking but he doesn’t care.

he was feeling pretty exhausted from coming back from work but just a single taste of your pussy and suddenly, he was energized once again.

ironic.

his two fingers continue to swivel around inside your gripping walls as your body slumps into the mattress in lewd defeat. satoru grunts, grinding his boner against the edge of the bed to calm himself but you made it so hard.

you made him hard.

as he’s luxuriating in this eagle view of your legs prettily laid up for him, he’s merely knuckles deep.

you can barely stay still and the bed’s staring to grow rickety. satoru’s speed of his tongue doesn’t falters, and as he’s slurping every drop from your sappy folds—you let out your final elongated moan. it’s long, your legs erupt dramatically and shake within his hold before you’re finally cumming. it drags for a long time and you’re just nothing but hysterical.

overwrought with emotions and pleasure, your legs finally collapse—as if they weren’t already basically limp, you exhale deeply.

“fuck, fuck fuuuck,” you repeat, watching with hazy murky eyes as he pulls your panties back toward the center with his teeth. satoru licks up your sweet saccharine-flavored juices that seep out from you, savoring the honeyed taste on his tongue before you pull on his hair . . hard.

“tsk. watch the hair, girl,” he warns you, still being cheeky and playful.

your cunt embarrassingly twitches once he makes eye contact with you again. satoru sits up, his entire chin coated with nothing but your slit. its a stream of it and it’s pretty. it was just the way it trickles down and he laps the crevices of his lips with his tongue. “so cute,” he murmurs, and he closes the gap between you both. as satoru feels your trembly legs wrap around his waist, he pulls you into another deep passionate kiss.

you moan right into his mouth, lazily tossing your arms over his broad-built shoulders before feeling him yank your panties down your legs and ankles.

satoru’s body was hot.

he still had his business attire on, and he feels your hand slowly removing his tie. your other hand runs down his tux, sliding inside the center to feel his washboard chiseled and hiding underneath the piles of formal work clothes.

“such a needy ‘lil thing,” he whispers gruffly between kisses, chuckling once he sees the forming pout tweak against your swollen lips.

satoru rubs a thumb over you lip before his crystalline-colored irises meet yours. the silence was cold, he’s got a wolffish smirk compressing against his lips before he mutters right near your ear. “now, let’s give ya that baby, sweetheart.”

saying ‘baby’ was an understatement.

with the way satoru was about to fuck you, he planned on giving you triplets.

maybe even more, and the constant rambles of how little ‘ole you was stuck in his mansion all day with baby fever did something to him. oh, poor thing, suffering with cramps all day. it was the end of the world. to you at least it was. but like the loving sugar daddy he was, satoru figured he’d do his best to ease your little ‘problems.’

“gimme that pretty arch, goooood..” he purrs, using a hand to rub down your exposed back.

satoru groans—his formal trousers / pants were pulled down to his ankles and he’s staring at your pretty ass. so cute. he watches with a carnal glint in his eye as you position yourself, gnawing on your lip and the bars of your enclosure. the anticipation was about to bury you six feet under.

his leaky tip slowly smears and bedaubs against your dripping clit and you whine. your hands, clammy and all, roughly grip onto the richly-made sheets.

his tip was fat, it’s got a glistening swollen head that’s teasing you. satoru’s breathing grows shallow once he sees your pussy cutely trying to swallow. “fuck, please,” you croak, desperate for him to go inside. he always does this—everytime.

right before he’s preparing himself to fuck you raw, satoru smacks his bulbous cockhead against your sappy weeping folds, hearing your sweet little cries grow unsatisfied. all you could think about was having him breed you full . . over and over and over again, you didn’t just want it, you needed it.

you needed him.

“relaaaax, sweet thing. ‘m comin,” a chortle dies from his throat as he feels you trying to wriggle your hips.

you’re impatient, and once he’s fully aligned, he’s finally dipping his weighty cock inside your perfectly tucked folds.

suddenly, your needy whines stop and they turn into whines of rapture. satoru trails a big hand toward the cusps of your ass, tracing down the cute curvy curvature of your body before your skin’s met with a rude swat.

you moan as he’s easing himself inside your gummy walls, stretching you open even more than his fingers did. “atta fuckin’ girl. let me in, biiiiiig stretch, there we go.”

the stretch . . you’d never get used to it, never.

your stomach heaves once he’s reeling his hips in. “s- shit,” you kiss your teeth, your knees already buckling and becoming weak. satoru spanks your bare ass again just to hear those sweet yelps leave your lips. he’s so fucking big, it doesn’t take long before he’s bottoming out and you hear the welcoming ‘pop’. satoru groans once he starts to move, one hand holding onto your hip—another focused on your pretty perked ass. he likes this view, the view of his sweet girl arched over on all fours. satoru bites his lip as he starts to make delicious haste with his sharp keen hips.

“god,” his head throws itself back briefly at a certain angle.

already, white strands stick to his forehead with the help of his sweat substituting as glue. satoru’s voice shakes as his cock’s fully in, your clingy gripping walls were so warm and it makes his mouth water from the inside. “missed my favorite pussy so fuckin’ bad, so bad,” and you feel a few droplets plop down your back. satoru’s eyes rove over, watching you writhe again and he sheepishly snickers.

he was drooling.

“heh, sorry.” and he wipes his mouth with his wrist, the feral feeling pooling in his gut never fading.

you’re a mess underneath him, the second he starts to drill his hips into you—it’s over.

satoru’s stamina was always unhinged.

the bed croaks and groans from the constant shakes ‘n creaks it has to endure each second. the hinges were quite loud, you heard the rusty creaking wood that reverbs throughout the room. his cock continued to pound into you as his body’s on top of yours, in full sync with your own sloppy movement.

you’re whimpering, your head already being smushed against the pillow as the undersides of his thigh start to feel minuscule pangs. “toru, toruuu,” you mewl out in a melodic whisper. he’s hitting you deep, your glossed lips part into a circle before you huff.

each strike of his hips felt more precise and brutal. . you wanted more, you wanted to feel him more.

“i know, i know,” he coos, thumbs circling around your waist as he holds you in place.

satoru’s hips were so sculptured and sharp that they give you whiplash every time. he’s got such power within each salacious strike that it makes your head spin. every single stroke, you’re left stupid and speechless with your tongue already dangling out of your mouth. the room grew steamy within a span of a few minutes. it smells like nothing but pure passionate sex.

by now, your eyes were rolling toward the very backs of your sockets in utter elated pleasure. you’re seeing nothing but splashes of ivory black and white. “aht aht. c’mere, don’t fuckin’ run sweetheart,” his voice was as smooth as silk. satoru feels your unsteady hips trying to crawl away but he reels you back in. “nuh uh. take it, take it, take it, girl.” he groans, his heavy hanging balls thwacking right against your ass within each pivotal thrust.

the band of his platinum-colored watch rubs off against your skin again—he’s watching you jerk back against him. his cock was so full, he licks his lips at the thought of your pretty pussy and how you were gonna wring him dry like you always do.

“fuck me, fuck me ‘toru,” your whimpering words were repeating itself over and over as if you were a broken record. the pit of your stomach coils as each second draws itself out before he’s grunting gruffly. your cunt’s sloppy, coating his base with sheeny amounts and globs of slick. white hairs from his neat pubes stick against his skin and satoru’s now grinding into you. “ah, right there, ngh please.”

“thaaaaat’s it pretty girl,” he snarls in a raspy voice, feeling the fat smacking stings of your ass jolt backward into his pelvis. “fuck me right back, mhm. gimme this pussy, make me proud baby.”

as he’s whispering all sorts of praises and dirty words, you can feel yourself reaching your limit soon — it’s so close.

a fluttering sensation brews up inside your stomach before satoru suddenly groans. “fuck,” his cock’s wholly stretching you out to your elastic limit before it meets that same textured spongey barrier again. he knows right away because your knees buckle, your breath grows quicker, and you let off another surprised shriek.

right there, x marks the spot after all and he was constantly hitting his tip there until you let out cute shrilling screams.

“goddamn, ‘m gonna cum, sweets,” and his voice grows more shakier the longer he’s inside.

it’s as if time stood still.

the constant rotation of swiveling gyrations from each angle, each body has your head spinning like a merri-go-‘round.

you were probably looking a dumb cock-drunk mess. unkempt strands of hair were already flopping down your face and occluding your view of vision entirely. satoru pierces his white brows together before lightly shoving you further into the mattress. as you’re cutely arched forward with your ass raised up, he leans way into your back, wrapping a hand softly around the back your throat.

“gonna fuckin’ give ya twins. one isn’t enough, pretty girl. need that tummy swollen ‘n plump s- so bad,” and he inches his lips toward your spine, still pumping into you deep. “gonna make you my pretty ‘lil mama.”

as he continued to spoke, you whine as his cock plummets into your wet sopping cunt over and over. it’s to the point where your ears recognize the slapping sounds of skin. the squelches your wet cunt made had him groaning.

he’s breathing in huge chunks of air as he’s merely crushing you with his weight. as you both robustly rut into each other in flawless unison, satoru’s hefty weight that hovers over you anchors into yours, slamming further into you.

“fuck, don’t stop, hngh,” and your words were as shaky as your chattering teeth.

he couldn’t keep his hands off you, literally.

sweaty open palms paw at every part of your body. near your doughy tits, your ass—his favorite part, and even your pretty plush thighs that were nearly gluing together. “satoru, satoru, pleaseee.”

“mhm, sweets..” his voice tremors and cracks before a sharp gasp wretches out of him. out of nowhere, you feel his hips come to an abrupt stop and he groans loudly.

it’s so loud that it’s an almost bellowing roar, both of his ears clank at the blissful sensations. satoru grows quiet once he feels it, that familiar pressure that’s been stored full inside him for the longest.

he’s cumming, and it’s so much, a slimy knot shoots out and freely dribbles into your inviting swollen cunt and he chews the inside of his cheek. “fuck m- me,” he stammers, still holding both sides of your rickety hips.

the room’s filled with husky pants and skin slapping until he’s slowing down - velvety stringy ribbons spurt into you raw until he’s hoarsely panting like a dog at the sight.

he can’t stop staring. such a mess, but you’re his mess. god, the way it just leisurely trickles inside of you, spilling all down the sides of your jittery folds because it can’t keep all of it in. the sounds were even more filthy, sloshing squeaks feels the room and he goes quiet just to get a good enough listen. satoru came so much—so so much that it lasted for a plethora of long obscene seconds. as he’s trying to get over his orgasm, he’s still chewing at the inside of his cheek, his face growing flustered. his hips become strikingly sloppy and he’s basically humping you. “god, have my fuckin’ kids, sweetheart. ugh,” and satoru’s as prettiest as he’s ever been.

with his lip dragging from his teeth biting near the bottom, his eyes scrunch shut and white brows curl up. huffing out a big deep exhale, he’s sweating bullets.

his thick calves felt like they were on fire but he didn’t have enough of you yet. there was never enough of you. you had him whipped—he’s allowing you to milk him, relishing in the fact that your sweet cunt was just wringing him dry to the max.

satoru steadies your hips with his quavery hands, peering down at the masses of sweltering hot cum that drips down your legs and he grunts. “s- satoru,” you shiver, gasping once he pulls out only to flip you right over.

“not done. still got so much more ‘ta give my pretty girl,” he breathes, and it’s a feral look in his eyes. satoru raises your leg up slowly, his rings tickling against your bare skin. “lie on your back. i fuckin’ need more.”

satoru fucks you for hours.

any position you could even think of, he’s doing it.

both stacked bodies glisten with sheets of sweat as they rut back and forth against each other, fingers merrily intertwined. he’s determined to get you pregnant and your moans only fuel him. the rowdy snaps of his vigorous hips only grew stronger.

his stamina, you’re blinking, wondering if he’s even human. despite the drops of perspiration tearing from the sides of his face and his heaving long breaths, satoru showed no signs of fatigue.

he was drilling his thick cock into you again and again—giving you orgasm after orgasm.

your toes curl as you’re trying to keep up with him but it’s to no avail. weighty balls continue to rigorously slam into your core as you’re currently in mating press. the compressing weight of satoru melting against you makes you whine.

he’s so warm, and with the way he’s breathing down your neck, babbling how he’s gonna make you the most prettiest mommy in the world makes your cunt throb. “you’re so pretty like this,” he moans into your neck, his thrusts becoming weak yet again.

globs of cum dribble from your pussy as he’s right between your thighs, his cock springing up. he hisses at the feeling, feeling your arms wrap around his back. satoru groans at the twinge near his extensor muscles that flex.

you gave him scratches that ran all down his back. he pays for your weekly manicures just so you can paint his back with scratches with your pretty acrylics.

his pretty girl.

you’re a stammering mess, plugged all the way up with such creamy thin ropes and your body was already limp. with his dick still delved inside, satoru grabs your chin—pressing another kiss against your lips. you moan, twisting and tangling your balmy hot tongue with his before he presses a hand down on your tummy. you whine in his mouth, skimming your crumped up fingers down his little undercut.

satoru groans at the feeling of your digits toying with the back part of his hair. “s- satoru,” you speak between kisses in short gasps for air. your ankle brushes up and down his back and it makes him grunt - your touch made him weak. “ ‘m so full, fuck.”

“yeah you fuckin’ are, sweetheart,” he licks near your bottom lip.

satoru’s body was so hot against yours, even while he was fully milked out he was still stuffing you full. the sheets were a mess, but he didn’t care in the slightest. his cerulean-blue eyes rove down towards your chest before he leans down. you stare at him, panting—and that’s when he latches his tongue against your neglected tits.

so perfect,

he makes sure to lather viscous strings of saliva on both of them, including your sensitive perky nipples. “mhm.” he groans, feeling your fingers fish through his white tangled strands. he’s sucking on each of your breasts with the most stupidest pussy drunken grin.

after a few seconds, he removes his spit-slick lips, a string of saliva following before he gazes up at you. with a sly worn out gaze, he cups both of your tits with his hands, giving them a good squeeze. “aw. my girls are gonna be full of milk soon,” and satoru kisses near your chin, your forehead, your cheek, and then finally, your lips.

you return the wet sultry kiss before he abruptly pulls away, holding your chin. “can’t wait to be a daddy, darlin,” he says in a gruff drowsy voice. you watch as he gradually pulls out, moving his head down toward your bare tummy. satoru presses a kiss near your navel before his eyes stare right back up at you.

“now let’s wait for this pretty ‘lil bump, hm?”

[pucksandpower]

To Hell With Duty

Lewis Hamilton x soulmate!Reader

Summary: you’ve always known that being Princess of the UK means that a soulmate is a luxury you can’t afford … but then you meet your soulmate and decide that some things are worth turning your back on duty for

Warnings: abusive family dynamics

Note: I promised to write something in honor of Lewis’ win and this was born (now I’m tempted to make a soulmate AU series)

The sun blazes overhead as you step out of the sleek black car, your designer heels clicking against the pavement. The roar of engines and the excited chatter of the crowd at Silverstone envelop you, but you can barely hear them over the pounding of your own heart.

“Your Royal Highness, this way please,” a smartly dressed aide gestures towards the paddock area.

You nod, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. As you walk, you absently rub your wrist, feeling the slight raised bumps of your soulmate mark beneath the carefully applied concealer.

“I wish you didn’t have to hide it,” your best friend and lady-in-waiting, Sophie, whispers beside you.

“You know I don’t have a choice,” you murmur back, glancing around to ensure no one overheard.

The memory of your brother’s ordeal flashes through your mind, as vivid and painful as the day it happened ...

“No, please! You can’t do this!” Edward’s anguished cries echoed through the palace halls.

You huddled in your room, hands pressed over your ears, trying to block out the sound. But nothing could drown out your brother’s screams as the royal physician burned away his soulmate tattoo.

Later, when you snuck into his room, you found him curled up on his bed, cradling his bandaged wrist.

“Eddie?” You whispered, your voice small and frightened.

He looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy. “Y/N ... I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You climbed onto the bed beside him. “Why did they do it? Why can’t you be with your soulmate?”

Edward sighed, pulling you close. “Because we’re royals, little sister. Our marriages are about duty, not love. Soulmates ... they’re a luxury we can’t afford.”

“But that’s not fair!” You protested.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, his voice hollow. “But it’s the price we pay for our position. Promise me something, Y/N. If you ever find your soulmate ... run. Run far away and don’t look back.”

The memory fades as Sophie gently squeezes your arm, bringing you back to the present.

“Are you okay?” She asks, concern etched on her face.

You take a deep breath, straightening your shoulders. “I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

As you make your way through the paddock, you can’t help but feel a twinge of envy at the carefree laughter and excitement around you. Everywhere you look, people are proudly displaying their soulmate tattoos, some comparing them with friends, others stealing glances at strangers, wondering if today might be the day they meet their perfect match.

“Your Royal Highness,” a race official greets you with a bow. “We’re honored to have you here today. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the VIP area.”

You nod, allowing yourself to be led through the crowded paddock. The official drones on about the day’s schedule, but your mind wanders.

“What do you think your soulmate is like?” Sophie had asked you once, years ago, when you were both giggling teenagers.

“I don’t know,” you had replied, tracing the words on your wrist. “But I hope they’re kind. And funny. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just my title.”

“You’ll find them one day,” Sophie had said confidently. “And when you do, it’ll be magical.”

Now, surrounded by the bustle and excitement of race day, that conversation feels like a lifetime ago. You’ve long since resigned yourself to the fact that you’ll never meet your soulmate. Even if you did, you could never act on it. The risk is too great.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the figure rounding the corner until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, stumbling backward. Strong hands grip your arms, steadying you before you can fall.

You look up, an apology on your lips, and find yourself staring into the most captivating brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Time seems to stand still as you gaze at each other, the world fading away around you.

And then he speaks, his voice low and warm.

“Whoa there, careful Princess. I’ve got you.”

***

Your heart stops as Lewis’ words sink in. They’re an exact match to the tattoo hidden beneath layers of concealer on your wrist. For a moment, you’re frozen, lost in his warm brown eyes, your mind reeling with the implications of what just happened.

Then reality comes crashing down. You can’t do this. You can’t put him in danger. You can’t risk the pain your brother went through.

“I ... I have to go,” you stammer, pulling away from his gentle grip.

Lewis’ brow furrows in confusion. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

But you’re already backing away, panic rising in your chest. “I’m sorry, I can’t ... this isn’t ... I have to leave.”

You turn and run, pushing past startled onlookers, your heart pounding in your ears. Behind you, you hear Lewis call out.

“Princess, wait! Your words ... they’re on my wrist!”

You falter for a moment, his words piercing through your panic. But no, it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. You keep running.

“Y/N, please!” Lewis’ voice is closer now. He’s chasing after you. “I know you felt it too. We need to talk about this!”

You duck around a corner, trying to lose him in the maze of the paddock. But Lewis is faster, more familiar with the layout. He catches up to you in a quiet area behind one of the garages.

“Princess,” he says, slightly out of breath. “Please, just hear me out.”

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill. “You don’t understand. We can’t do this. My family ... they’ll never allow it. They’ll hurt you, or worse.”

Lewis takes a cautious step closer. “What do you mean? Why would your family hurt me?”

“Because you’re my soulmate!” The words burst out before you can stop them. “And royals aren’t allowed to be with their soulmates. It’s all about duty and arranged marriages. They ... they burned off my brother’s mark when he found his soulmate.”

Lewis’ eyes widen in horror. “That’s barbaric. They can’t do that to you.”

You laugh bitterly. “They’re the royal family. They can do whatever they want.”

“No,” Lewis says firmly. “They can’t. Because I won’t let them.”

You look at him, confused. “What?”

Lewis takes your hand gently, his touch sending sparks through your body. “Y/N, I’m not just British. I’m also a Brazilian citizen. And in Brazil, there are laws protecting soulmates. If we’re truly matched, which I believe we are, you automatically gain Brazilian citizenship too. Your family can’t touch you there.”

Hope flares in your chest, but you quickly squash it down. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll find a way. They always do.”

“Not this time,” Lewis insists. “Look, I have a race to drive soon, but after that, we can fly to Brazil immediately. I’ll keep you safe until then.”

You shake your head. “It’s too dangerous. If they find out ...”

“They won’t,” Lewis promises. “My driver’s room is private and secure. You can hide there until after the race. No one will think to look for you there.”

You hesitate, torn between hope and fear. “I don’t know ...”

Lewis squeezes your hand gently. “I know we just met, but I’ve been waiting my whole life to find you. Please, give us a chance. Let me protect you.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. Slowly, you nod. “Okay. But we have to be careful.”

Relief washes over Lewis’ face. “We will be. Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

He leads you quickly through the paddock, taking care to avoid busy areas. You keep your head down, heart racing every time you pass someone. Finally, you reach a door marked with Lewis’ name.

“Here we are,” he says, ushering you inside. “Lock the door behind me and don’t open it for anyone but me. I’ll knock three times, pause, then twice more. Okay?”

You nod, taking in the small but comfortable room. “Okay. But Lewis, what about your race? You can’t miss it because of me.”

He smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll race, and then we’ll leave right after. It’ll be fine.”

“But what if something goes wrong? What if they find me?” The fear creeps back into your voice.

Lewis takes your hands in his, his touch grounding you. “Hey, look at me. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise. We’re soulmates, remember? That means we’re in this together now.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he says softly. “But you’re also incredibly brave. You’ve lived with this fear your whole life, and you’re still standing. We can do this.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “We’ve known each other for all of ten minutes and you’re already saying ‘we’?”

Lewis grins. “Well, that’s what happens when you meet your soulmate, I guess. Everything changes in an instant.”

You laugh softly, feeling some of the tension leave your body. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Listen,” Lewis says, his tone turning serious. “I know this is all happening very fast, and I don’t expect you to fall in love with me right away or anything. We’ll take things as slow as you want once we’re safe. But right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

You look into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and determination. Slowly, you nod. “Yes, I think I can.”

“Good,” Lewis smiles. “Now, I have to go get ready for the race. Remember, three knocks, pause, then two more. Don’t open for anyone else.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “Be careful out there, okay?”

Lewis’ smile widens. “Always am, Princess. I’ll see you soon.”

As he leaves, you lock the door behind him, your heart still racing. You sink onto the small couch, trying to process everything that’s happened in the last hour.

You’ve found your soulmate. After years of hiding your tattoo, of living in fear of it being burned away like your brother’s, you’ve actually met the person whose words are etched on your skin.

And not just any person. Lewis Hamilton. World-famous driver, activist, and fashion icon. You’ve seen him on TV, of course, admired his skill on the track and his passion for social justice. But you never imagined ...

You rub your wrist absently, feeling the slight raised bumps of your mark beneath the concealer. For the first time in years, you allow yourself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of.

But doubt creeps in. What if Lewis is wrong? What if Brazilian citizenship isn’t enough to protect you from your family’s influence? What if they find you before you can leave?

You pace the small room, alternating between hope and fear. The sound of engines revving in the distance tells you the race is about to start. You find yourself holding your breath every time you hear footsteps pass by the door, terrified it might be palace security coming to drag you away.

Time crawls by agonizingly slowly. You try to distract yourself by watching the race on the small TV in the corner, but every time the camera focuses on Lewis’ car, your heart leaps into your throat. You silently urge him to be careful, to finish the race quickly so you can escape.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear it. Three knocks, a pause, then two more. You rush to the door, your hand hesitating for just a moment before you unlock it.

Lewis slips inside quickly, closing and locking the door behind him. He’s still in his race suit, his hair damp with sweat.

“Are you okay?” You ask immediately. “How was the race?”

Lewis grins. “I’m fine, and I won. But that’s not important right now. We need to go.”

He grabs a bag from a locker and starts shoving clothes into it. “I’ve arranged for a private jet to take us to São Paulo. We need to leave now, before anyone realizes you’re missing.”

You nod, your heart racing again. “Okay. What do we do?”

“I’ve got some clothing here that might fit you,” Lewis says, pulling out a hoodie and sweatpants. “Put these on over your clothes. We’ll need to be discreet getting to the airport.”

As you change, Lewis continues talking. “Once we’re in Brazil, we’ll be safe. There are strict laws protecting soulmates there. Your family won’t be able to touch you.”

“But what about your career?” You ask, suddenly realizing what he’s giving up. “You can’t just leave everything behind for me.”

Lewis pauses, looking at you intently. “Y/N, you’re my soulmate. That means you’re more important than any career, any amount of fame or money. We’ll figure out the details later, but right now, keeping you safe is all that matters.”

His words make your heart swell. You’ve never had anyone put you first like this before. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Lewis smiles. “Just trust me, okay?”

You nod, feeling a sense of calm settle over you despite the chaotic situation. “I do trust you. Let’s go.”

Lewis takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath, thinking of all you’re leaving behind — your family, your duty, the only life you’ve ever known. But as you look at Lewis, you realize you’re also stepping into a new life. One where you’re free to be yourself, to love who you want, to follow your heart.

“Ready,” you say firmly.

And with that, Lewis opens the door, and together, you step out into your new future.

***

The private jet hums softly as it cuts through the night sky, carrying you away from everything you’ve ever known. You’re curled up against Lewis on the plush leather seat, your head resting on his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear is oddly comforting, grounding you in this surreal moment.

Lewis’ arm is wrapped around you, his hand gently stroking your back. With your free hand, you trace the lines of his soulmate tattoo — your first words to him, now etched forever on his skin.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” you murmur, your fingers following the curves of each letter.

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through his chest. “I know what you mean. I’ve imagined meeting you so many times, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality.”

You look up at him, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. “Weren’t you afraid? When you realized who I was?”

“Afraid?” Lewis considers for a moment. “No, not afraid. Excited, nervous, maybe a little overwhelmed. But not afraid.” He pauses, his expression growing serious. “But you were. You’re still afraid now, aren’t you?”

You nod slowly, dropping your gaze back to his wrist. “I’ve been afraid for so long, I’m not sure I know how to stop.”

Lewis’ hand moves to cup your face gently, encouraging you to look at him again. “Will you tell me about it? Help me understand?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “It’s ... it’s not a pleasant story.”

“I’m here,” Lewis says softly. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

His words, so simple yet so profound, give you the courage to begin. “It started with my brother, Edward. He was always the rebellious one, you know? Always pushing boundaries, questioning traditions. When he found his soulmate, he was over the moon. Her name was Lily, and she was ... she was perfect for him. Kind, funny, passionate about the same causes he was.”

You pause, the memory of your brother’s joy contrasting sharply with what came after. Lewis waits patiently, his presence a comforting anchor.

“For a few months, they managed to keep it a secret. But eventually, someone saw them together. Word got back to our parents and ...” You shudder, remembering that awful day. “They were furious. They gave Edward an ultimatum: give up Lily or give up his place in the line of succession.”

“That’s horrible,” Lewis murmurs, his arm tightening around you.

You nod, continuing, “Edward refused. He said Lily was more important than any throne. So they ... they decided to take matters into their own hands.”

Your voice breaks as you recount what happened next. “They had the royal physician burn off Edward’s soulmate mark. I can still hear his screams echoing through the palace. It was ... it was torture.”

Lewis’ body tenses beneath you, his voice tight with anger when he speaks. “They had no right. How could they do that to their own son?”

“They said it was for the good of the country,” you reply bitterly. “That royals can’t afford the luxury of soulmates. Our marriages are political tools, nothing more.”

“What happened to Edward and Lily?” Lewis asks gently.

You sigh heavily. “Edward was never the same after that. The spark in him just ... died. He does his duty now, makes the appearances he’s supposed to, but it’s like he’s just going through the motions. And Lily ... last I heard, she moved to Australia. I think being anywhere near the UK was too painful for her.”

Lewis is quiet for a moment, processing your words. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Y/N. No wonder you were scared when you realized we were soulmates.”

You nod, feeling the weight of years of fear and secrecy lifting as you share your story. “That’s not even the worst of it,” you admit softly.

Lewis looks at you, concern etched on his face. “There’s more?”

You take another deep breath, steeling yourself for the hardest part of the story. “My father ... he had an older sister. Aunt Margaret. I never met her, but I found out about her a few years ago.”

Lewis listens intently as you continue, “She found her soulmate when she was young, maybe 20 or so. And she refused to give him up, no matter what my grandparents said. They tried everything — threats, bribes, even attempting to arrange another match for her. But Margaret stood firm.”

“She sounds brave,” Lewis comments.

You nod, a sad smile touching your lips. “She was. But bravery wasn’t enough. One night, both Margaret and her soulmate disappeared. The official story was that they’d eloped, run off to start a new life together. But that wasn’t the truth.”

Lewis’ body tenses again, as if bracing for what’s coming. You press on, the words tumbling out now that you’ve started.

“Margaret’s soulmate was ... dealt with. Permanently. And Margaret herself was institutionalized. Locked away in a private facility, hidden from the world.”

“That’s ... that’s monstrous,” Lewis breathes, horror evident in his voice.

You nod, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “When I found out, I couldn’t believe it. I managed to find out where she was being held and I ... I visited her.”

Lewis’ hand resumes its gentle stroking of your back, encouraging you to continue.

“She was ... god, Lewis, she was just a shell. Decades of being locked away, of being separated from her soulmate ... it had broken her. She didn’t even seem to realize I was there.”

A tear escapes, rolling down your cheek. Lewis gently wipes it away with his thumb.

“That’s why I was so scared,” you whisper. “I’ve seen what my family is capable of. What lengths they’ll go to in order to keep up appearances, to maintain their idea of duty.”

Lewis is quiet for a long moment, his arms tightening around you protectively. When he finally speaks, his voice is filled with a mix of anger and determination.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” he says firmly. “What happened to your brother, to your aunt ... it was wrong. Cruel and wrong. But I promise you, I will not let that happen to us.”

You look up at him, seeing the fierce protectiveness in his eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because we’re not alone in this,” Lewis explains. “We have resources they don’t. My citizenship, for one. The laws protecting soulmates in Brazil. And beyond that, we have the power of public opinion.”

You frown, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”

Lewis shifts slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Think about it. Your family’s power comes from public support, right? What do you think would happen if the world found out they were separating soulmates, institutionalizing people?”

“It would be a scandal,” you realize, your eyes widening.

“Exactly,” Lewis nods. “We’re not helpless. If they try anything, we can fight back. We can tell our story, rally support. The world has changed a lot. People believe in the sanctity of soulmates now more than ever.”

His words spark a tiny flame of hope in your chest. “You really think we could do that?”

“I know we could,” Lewis says confidently. “But more than that, I don’t think we’ll have to. Your family isn’t stupid. They’ll realize the risk isn’t worth it. Especially not with someone as high-profile as me.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that. “Modest, aren’t you?”

Lewis grins, the tension of the moment breaking. “Hey, I’m just stating facts. Seven-time world champion, remember?”

You roll your eyes playfully, but then grow serious again. “Lewis ... thank you. For listening, for understanding. For not running away when you realized how complicated this all is.”

“Hey,” Lewis says softly, tilting your chin up so you’re looking directly into his eyes. “You’re my soulmate. That means we’re in this together, complications and all. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words wash over you, soothing fears you’ve carried for so long. For the first time, you allow yourself to truly believe that maybe, just maybe, you can have this. You can have him.

“So,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips. “What happens now?”

Lewis grins, his eyes twinkling with excitement and possibility. “Now? Now we start our adventure. We land in São Paulo, get your citizenship sorted out, and then ... well, then the world’s our oyster. We can go anywhere, do anything.”

“Anything?” You ask, the concept of such freedom almost dizzying.

“Anything,” Lewis confirms. “We could travel the world. Or we could find a quiet place to settle down if that’s what you prefer. We could work on charitable causes together, or you could pursue whatever dreams you’ve had to put aside because of your royal duties.”

The possibilities swirl in your mind, each one more exciting than the last. “I ... I don’t even know where to start,” you admit.

Lewis chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We don’t have to decide everything right now. We’ve got time. For now, let’s just focus on getting to Brazil safely. We can figure out the rest as we go.”

You nod, settling back against his chest. The steady beat of his heart syncs with the hum of the jet engines, lulling you into a sense of peace you haven’t felt in years.

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of your soulmate’s arms, you realize something. For the first time in your life, you’re not afraid of the future. Instead, you’re excited to see what it holds.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together. You and Lewis, two halves of a whole, finally united. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but with him by your side, you’re ready for anything.

***

As the private jet touches down on Brazilian soil, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flutters in your stomach. Lewis gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as the plane rolls to a stop.

“Ready?” He asks, his warm brown eyes meeting yours.

You take a deep breath and nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

The cabin door opens, and the humid Brazilian air rushes in. Lewis leads you down the steps, his hand never leaving yours. At the bottom, a tall woman in a crisp suit waits, her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun.

“Mr. Hamilton,” she greets with a warm smile, extending her hand. “And Your Royal Highness. Welcome to Brazil. I’m Dr. Raquel Santos from the Department of Soulmate Affairs.”

Lewis shakes her hand. “Dr. Santos, thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”

“Of course,” she replies, turning to you. “Your Highness, it’s an honor.”

You shake her hand, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “Please, just call me Y/N. I ... I’m not sure how much of a royal I am anymore.”

Dr. Santos’ smile softens. “Of course, Y/N. Why don’t we move this conversation somewhere more private? I have a car waiting to take us to a secure location where we can discuss everything in detail.”

You and Lewis follow her to a sleek black car. Once inside, Dr. Santos turns to face you both.

“First and foremost,” she begins, “I want to assure you that you are under the full protection of Brazilian law. As soon as you stepped off that plane, Y/N, you became entitled to all the rights and protections we offer to soulmates.”

“Just like that?” You ask, hardly daring to believe it could be so simple.

Dr. Santos nods. “Just like that. Brazil takes soulmate rights very seriously. We believe that the bond between soulmates is sacred and should be protected at all costs.”

Lewis leans forward, his expression serious. “What exactly does that protection entail? Y/N’s situation is ... complicated.”

“I understand,” Dr. Santos says. “Your assistant filled me in on some of the details during our phone call. Let me break down the key points for you.”

As the car glides through the streets of São Paulo, Dr. Santos begins her explanation.

“First, as the soulmate of a Brazilian citizen, Y/N is immediately eligible for Brazilian citizenship. We can begin the paperwork right away. This will provide an added layer of protection against any attempts at extradition.”

You feel a weight lift off your shoulders at her words. “So my family can’t force me to return to the UK?”

“Correct,” Dr. Santos confirms. “Brazil does not recognize any authority over soulmate bonds, not even royal decrees. Your status as a princess is irrelevant in the eyes of our law when it comes to your rights as a soulmate.”

Lewis squeezes your hand, a smile playing on his lips. “See? I told you we’d figure it out.”

Dr. Santos continues, “Furthermore, we have specific laws protecting soulmates from forced separation. Any attempt to interfere with your bond — be it physical separation, coercion, or even attempts to remove or alter your soulmate marks — is considered a serious crime in Brazil.”

You unconsciously rub your wrist where your tattoo is hidden. “What about ... what if they try to claim I’m mentally unfit or something? To try and invalidate my choices?”

Dr. Santos’ expression turns serious. “We’ve seen such tactics used before, unfortunately. That’s why we have safeguards in place. Any claims of mental unfitness would require extensive evaluation by multiple independent Brazilian psychiatrists.”

“And if they try to use their diplomatic influence?” Lewis asks.

“Brazil’s stance on soulmate rights is non-negotiable,” Dr. Santos states firmly. “We’ve stood up to pressure from other nations before, and we won’t hesitate to do so again. Your bond is protected here, regardless of external political pressures.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “This all sounds almost too good to be true.”

Dr. Santos smiles warmly. “I understand your caution, Y/N. But I assure you, these protections are very real and very enforceable. Now, let me explain some of the practical aspects of your situation.”

As the car turns onto a quieter street, Dr. Santos pulls out a tablet. “We’ll need to register your bond officially. This involves a simple verification process — usually just a visual confirmation of a matching font on your soulmate marks. Once registered, you’ll be issued official documentation of your bond status.”

“What does that documentation do?” You ask, leaning forward with interest.

“It serves several purposes,” Dr. Santos explains. “Firstly, it’s legal proof of your bond, which can be used to claim various rights and protections under Brazilian law. It also serves as a form of identification and can be used to expedite your citizenship application.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “And what about privacy? Given our high profiles, we’re concerned about information leaks.”

“An excellent question,” Dr. Santos says. “We take privacy very seriously, especially in high-profile cases like yours. All information related to your bond and Y/N’s presence in Brazil will be classified at the highest level. Only a select few government officials will have access to this information.”

You feel a surge of gratitude towards this woman and the country she represents. “Dr. Santos, I can’t thank you enough for all of this.”

She smiles warmly. “It’s my pleasure. Protecting soulmates is not just my job, it’s my passion. Now, let’s discuss some of the support services available to you.”

As the car pulls up to a nondescript building, Dr. Santos continues her explanation. “We offer counseling services specifically tailored for soulmates who have faced separation or threats to their bond. These services are completely confidential and can be invaluable in helping you process your experiences and adjust to your new life.”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I think ... I think that might be really helpful.”

Lewis wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “We’ll get through this together, love. Whatever you need.”

Dr. Santos leads you into the building and up to a comfortably furnished office. As you all take seats, she pulls out some forms.

“Now, I know this is a lot to take in,” she says gently. “But I’d like to start the official registration process, if you’re ready. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you’ll have legal protection.”

You look at Lewis, who gives you an encouraging nod. “Okay,” you say, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

As Dr. Santos begins to explain the forms, a thought occurs to you. “Dr. Santos, what about Lewis? How will all of this affect his career?”

Dr. Santos smiles. “I’m glad you asked. Mr. Hamilton, as a Brazilian citizen, you have the right to have your soulmate with you wherever your career takes you. We can provide diplomatic assistance to ensure Y/N can travel with you freely, without risk of detention or forced return to the UK.”

Lewis grins, looking relieved. “That’s fantastic news. I was worried I might have to give up racing.”

“Not at all,” Dr. Santos assures him. “We believe that soulmates should support each other’s dreams and ambitions. Our laws are designed to facilitate that.”

As you begin filling out the forms, a sense of surreal calm washes over you. For the first time in your life, you feel truly protected, truly free to be with the person you’re meant to be with.

“There’s one more thing,” Dr. Santos says as you finish the paperwork. “As part of our soulmate protection program, we offer a safe house service. It’s a secure location where you can stay while you adjust to your new situation and decide on your next steps. Would you be interested in that?”

You and Lewis exchange a look. “I think that might be a good idea,” Lewis says. “At least for a little while, until we figure things out. My home here isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes, please. That sounds perfect.”

Dr. Santos smiles, clearly pleased. “Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements right away. The location is completely confidential and guarded 24/7. You’ll be safe there.”

As she stands to make some calls, you turn to Lewis, feeling overwhelmed by everything that’s happened.

“Lewis,” you say softly, “I can’t believe you’ve done all this for me. You’ve turned your whole life upside down.”

He takes your hands in his, his eyes shining with emotion. “You’re my soulmate. My whole life was leading up to finding you. Everything else? It’s just details we’ll figure out together.”

You lean in, resting your forehead against his. For the first time since you can remember, you feel truly, completely safe. Protected not just by laws and governments, but by the love of the person you were always meant to find.

As Dr. Santos returns to finalize the arrangements, you realize that this isn’t just the end of your old life. It’s the beginning of something new, something wonderful. A life where you’re free to love, free to be yourself, free to explore the bond that fate has given you.

Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know now that you won’t face them alone. You have Lewis, you have the protection of Brazilian law, and most importantly, you have hope. The future, once so terrifying, now shines with possibility.

And as you leave the office hand in hand with Lewis, ready to start your new life together, you can’t help but smile. Because for the first time, you’re not running away from something.

You’re running towards it.

***

The roar of engines and the buzz of excitement fill the air as you stand at the entrance to the Autódromo José Carlos Pace. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of nerves and exhilaration coursing through your veins. Lewis’ hand is warm and steady in yours, a constant reminder that you’re not alone.

“Are you ready for this?” Lewis asks, his brown eyes searching yours with concern.

You take a deep breath, squeezing his hand. “As ready as I’ll ever be. It’s time to stop hiding.”

Lewis nods, a proud smile lighting up his face. “That’s my girl. Remember, whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

With one last reassuring squeeze, Lewis leads you into the paddock. The moment you step into view, a hush falls over the nearby crowd. Then, like a wave, whispers and exclamations ripple outward.

“Is that ...”

“It can’t be ...”

“The princess!”

“With Lewis Hamilton?”

Cameras flash in a frenzy, and reporters surge forward, held back only by the security team flanking you and Lewis. You keep your head high, your hand firmly in Lewis’ as you make your way through the paddock.

A brave reporter manages to shout a question over the commotion. “Your Highness! Is it true you’ve been in hiding in Brazil?”

You pause, looking to Lewis. He gives you an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, you turn to face the press.

“Yes, it’s true,” you say, your voice steady despite your nerves. “I’ve been in Brazil for the past few months, under the protection of the Brazilian government.”

The questions come rapid-fire after that.

“Why did you leave the UK?”

“Are you and Lewis Hamilton really soulmates?”

“What does the royal family have to say about this?”

Lewis steps forward, his arm protectively around your waist. “We’ll be holding a press conference later to address all your questions. For now, we ask for your patience and understanding as we prepare for the race.”

As you continue through the paddock, you can’t help but think back on the tumultuous months that led to this moment ...

The first few weeks in Brazil had been a whirlwind of paperwork, security briefings, and adjusting to your new reality. You and Lewis had stayed in the safe house provided by the Brazilian government, venturing out only when necessary and always under heavy guard.

One morning, about a month into your stay, Dr. Santos had arrived with a grim expression.

“We’ve intercepted some concerning communications,” she had said, her usual calm demeanor tinged with worry. “It seems the British royal family has intensified their search for you, Y/N. They’re making threats.”

You had felt your heart drop. “What kind of threats?”

Dr. Santos had hesitated before answering. “They’re threatening to use their diplomatic influence to pressure Brazil into returning you. They’re also ... they’re suggesting that you might be mentally unfit, that you’ve been coerced or manipulated.”

Lewis had immediately pulled you close, his jaw clenched in anger. “They can’t do that. We won’t let them.”

“And we won’t,” Dr. Santos had assured you both. “Our stance on soulmate rights is non-negotiable. But I want you to be prepared. This might get ugly.”

And it had. Over the next few months, your family had tried everything. Diplomatic pressure, media manipulation, even attempts to infiltrate Brazilian government systems to locate you. But Brazil had stood firm, and you had remained safe.

A commotion near the Mercedes garage snaps you back to the present. You see a group of men in dark suits pushing their way through the crowd, their expressions grim and determined. Your blood runs cold as you recognize one of them — your father’s head of security.

“Lewis,” you whisper urgently, “they’re here.”

Lewis’ arm tightens around you as he quickly assesses the situation. “Stay calm. Remember the plan.”

As the men approach, the lead one steps forward, his voice loud and authoritative. “Your Royal Highness, by order of His Majesty the King, you are to return to the United Kingdom immediately.”

You feel all eyes on you, the paddock having gone deathly quiet. Taking a deep breath, you step forward, your voice clear and steady. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I am here of my own free will, protected by Brazilian law as the soulmate of a Brazilian citizen.”

The man’s expression hardens. “Your Highness, please don’t make this difficult. Your family is concerned for your well-being. They believe you may have been coerced or manipulated-”

“The only manipulation here,” Lewis interrupts, his voice sharp, “is coming from those who would separate soulmates for political gain.”

Just then, Dr. Santos appears, flanked by Brazilian officials. “Gentlemen,” she says coolly to the British security team, “I’m afraid you’re overstepping. Y/N is under the protection of the Brazilian government. Any attempt to remove her against her will would be considered means for an international incident.”

The head of security sputters, clearly not having expected this level of resistance. “This is a family matter-”

“No,” you interject, your voice stronger now. “This is a matter of human rights. The right to be with one’s soulmate. A right that Brazil recognizes and protects.”

Dr. Santos nods approvingly. “Furthermore, any claims of mental unfitness have been thoroughly disproven by independent psychiatric evaluation. Y/N is here of her own free will, in full possession of her faculties.”

The security team looks at each other uncertainly, clearly realizing they’re outmatched. The lead man makes one last attempt. “Your Highness, please. Your family misses you. They want you to come home.”

For a moment, you feel a pang of sadness for the life you left behind. But then you feel Lewis’ steady presence beside you, and you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

“I am home,” you say softly but firmly. “My home is with my soulmate, wherever that may be.”

The man opens his mouth to argue further, but Dr. Santos cuts him off. “Gentlemen, I believe it’s time for you to leave. Unless you’d like us to involve the authorities?”

Realizing they’re defeated, the security team begins to retreat. As they leave, you hear murmurs of admiration and support from the crowd that has gathered to watch the confrontation.

Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace. “You were amazing,” he whispers in your ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

As you pull back, you see reporters clamoring for comments, their cameras flashing incessantly. Dr. Santos steps forward to address them.

“A full press conference will be held later today,” she announces. “For now, I can confirm that Y/N, formally known as Her Royal Highness, is here legally and of her own free will as the soulmate of Lewis Hamilton. She is under the full protection of Brazilian law, and any attempts to interfere with their bond will be met with the full force of our legal system.”

As Dr. Santos continues to field questions, Lewis turns to you. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I’m more than okay. For the first time, I feel ... free.”

Lewis grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because we’ve got a race to win.”

As you make your way to the Mercedes garage, you’re overwhelmed by the support you receive. Team members, other drivers, and even fans call out words of encouragement.

“We’ve got your back, Y/N!”

“Love wins!”

“You show ‘em, Lewis!”

Inside the garage, the team greets you warmly. Toto approaches with a smile.

“Y/N, Lewis,” he says, shaking both your hands. “That was quite an entrance. Are you sure you’re up for all this today?”

You nod firmly. “Absolutely. It’s time to show the world that love doesn’t make you weak. It makes you stronger.”

Lewis beams at your words. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Now, let’s go win this race, yeah?”

As Lewis begins his pre-race preparations, you find a quiet corner to collect your thoughts. The events of the past few months flash through your mind — the fear, the uncertainty, but also the overwhelming love and support you’ve received.

You think about your family, about the life you left behind. There’s sadness there, but no regret. You’ve found something more precious than any crown — the freedom to love, to be yourself, to follow your heart.

A gentle hand on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts. You look up to see Lewis, now in his race suit, his helmet tucked under his arm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks softly.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. How grateful I am for you, for Brazil, for everyone who’s supported us.”

Lewis leans into your touch, his eyes shining with emotion. “We’re the lucky ones, Y/N. To have found each other, to have this chance at happiness. And I promise you, I’ll spend every day making sure you never regret your choice.”

You stand, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I could never regret choosing you. You’re my soulmate, my home, my everything.”

As you lean in for a kiss, the garage erupts in cheers and whistles. You break apart, laughing, to see the entire team watching with grins on their faces.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Toto calls out good-naturedly. “Save it for after the race. Lewis, you’ve got a championship to chase.”

Lewis gives you one last quick kiss before pulling on his helmet. “Watch me fly, Princess,” he says with a wink.

As he heads out to the track, you take your place in the garage, surrounded by your new family — the team that has embraced you without question. You feel a sense of belonging, of purpose, that you’ve never experienced before.

The roar of engines fills the air as the race begins. You watch Lewis navigate the track with precision and skill, your heart swelling with pride and love. This is your life now — the excitement of race day, the thrill of competition, but most importantly, the joy of being with your soulmate.

As Lewis crosses the finish line in first place, the garage erupts in celebration. You rush out to meet him in parc fermé, not caring about protocol or propriety. Lewis sweeps you up in his arms, spinning you around as the crowd cheers.

In that moment, with the sun shining down and the sound of celebration all around, you know that you’ve made the right choice. This is where you belong — by Lewis’ side, free to love and be loved, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

Together.

***

The familiar scent of motor oil and rubber fills the air as you step onto British soil for the first time in over a year. Silverstone buzzes with excitement, but you can’t shake the nervous energy coursing through your veins. Lewis’ hand finds yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You take a deep breath, nodding. “I think so. It’s just ... strange being back.”

Lewis pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Remember, you’re not alone. We’ve got security everywhere, and I’m right here with you.”

As if on cue, the head of your security team, a tall, no-nonsense woman named Maria, approaches. “Everything’s clear, Ms. Y/N. We’ve swept the entire area and have eyes on all entry points.”

You smile gratefully at her. “Thank you, Maria. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Maria’s stern expression softens slightly. “Just doing our job, ma’am. Your safety is our top priority.”

As you make your way through the paddock, you can’t help but notice the stares and whispers that follow you. Some are curious, others admiring, and a few ... less than friendly. But your security team forms a protective barrier around you and Lewis, keeping any potential trouble at bay.

“Y/N! Lewis!” A familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Fred Vasseur approaching, a warm smile on his face. “Welcome back to Silverstone. How are you holding up?”

“It’s ... intense,” you admit. “But I’m glad to be here, supporting Lewis.”

Fred nods understandingly. “Well, you’ve got the whole team behind you. Anyone gives you trouble, they’ll have to answer to all of Ferrari.”

As you continue through the paddock, greeting team members and other drivers, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Not just by the curious onlookers, but by someone ... familiar.

That’s when you see him. Standing near the VIP area, looking as regal and composed as ever, is your brother.

Your heart skips a beat. You haven’t seen Edward since that fateful day you ran away. Lewis, sensing your tension, follows your gaze.

“Is that ...” he asks quietly.

You nod, unable to find words. Lewis turns to Maria. “Can you make sure we have a private moment?”

Maria nods, already signaling to her team. Within moments, they’ve created a small bubble of privacy around you and Edward.

Edward approaches slowly, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you both just stand there, years of unspoken words hanging between you.

Then, to your surprise, Edward’s composure cracks. His eyes fill with tears as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

“Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You cling to him, your own tears falling freely. “Eddie ... I’m so sorry I left without saying goodbye. I just ... I couldn’t ...”

Edward pulls back, holding you at arm’s length. His eyes roam your face, as if memorizing every detail. “Don’t apologize. Not ever. What you did ... Y/N, I am so incredibly proud of you.”

His words catch you off guard. “Proud? But I abandoned the family, my duties ...”

Edward shakes his head firmly. “You chose love. You chose happiness. You did what I was too weak to do.”

You glance at Lewis, who’s standing a respectful distance away, giving you this moment with your brother. “Edward, this is Lewis. My soulmate.”

Edward extends his hand to Lewis. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lewis. Thank you for protecting my sister and giving her the happiness she deserves.”

Lewis shakes his hand, his expression sincere. “The honor is mine, Your Highness. Y/N is the bravest, most amazing person I know. I’m just lucky to be part of her life.”

Edward’s smile is tinged with sadness. “Please, call me Edward. And you’re right, she is amazing. Always has been.”

You look at your brother closely, noticing the lines of stress around his eyes, the slight slump in his shoulders. “Eddie ... how are you? Really?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s ... not easy. The family is in turmoil after your departure. Father is furious, Mother is heartbroken, and I’m ... well, I’m trying to hold it all together.”

“And Lily?” You ask softly, referring to Edward’s soulmate. “Have you heard from her?”

Edward’s expression clouds over. “No. Not since ... not since that day.”

You take your brother’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s not too late, you know. You could still reach out to her.”

Edward laughs bitterly. “And say what? ‘Sorry I let them burn off my soulmate mark and married someone else. Want to grab coffee?’”

Lewis steps forward, his voice gentle but firm. “With all due respect, Your High- Edward, it’s never too late. The bond between soulmates ... it’s not something that can be erased, no matter what’s done to the physical mark.”

Edward looks at Lewis, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You really believe that?”

Lewis nods. “I do. Y/N and I found each other against all odds. Who’s to say you and Lily can’t do the same?”

You squeeze Edward’s hand again. “Eddie, you deserve to be happy. You deserve love. It’s not too late to choose yourself, to choose love.”

Edward looks torn, glancing around at the crowds, the cameras, the weight of expectation that’s always surrounded you both. “But the family ...”

“Will still be there,” you say softly. “But you’ll be facing them as your true self, with your soulmate by your side. It makes all the difference, trust me.”

Your brother is quiet for a long moment, clearly wrestling with years of ingrained duty and expectation. Finally, he looks up, a new determination in his eyes.

“You’re right,” he says, his voice growing stronger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve spent too long living for everyone else. It’s time I lived for myself.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Does this mean ...”

Edward nods, a mix of fear and excitement in his eyes. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to find Lily. I’m going to make things right.”

You throw your arms around your brother, hugging him tightly. “I’m so proud of you, Eddie. And I’ll be here for you, every step of the way.”

As you pull back, you see tears in Edward’s eyes, but also a lightness that you haven’t seen in years. “Thank you. For showing me that it’s possible to choose love. For being brave enough to pave the way.”

Lewis steps forward, placing a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “If you need any help — legal advice, security, anything — just say the word. You’re family now.”

Edward looks at Lewis gratefully. “Thank you. I might just take you up on that.”

Just then, Maria approaches discreetly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to move. The press is getting restless.”

You nod, turning back to Edward. “Will you be okay?”

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “I will be. For the first time in a long time, I think I really will be.”

As you prepare to part ways, Edward pulls you in for one last hug. “I love you, little sister. Thank you for reminding me what’s truly important.”

“I love you too, Eddie,” you whisper back. “Go find your happiness. You deserve it.”

With one last squeeze, Edward steps back. As he walks away, you see him pull out his phone, a look of determination on his face. You have a feeling you know exactly who he’s about to call.

Lewis wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “You okay, love?”

You nod, wiping away a stray tear. “More than okay. I feel ... hopeful. For Eddie, for us, for everything.”

As you make your way back through the paddock, you’re struck by how different everything feels. The stares don’t bother you as much, the whispers fade into background noise. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, with the person you’re meant to be with.

“You know,” Lewis says as you reach the Ferrari garage, “I think I’m going to win this race.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smile playing on your lips. “Oh? And what makes you so sure?”

Lewis grins, pulling you close. “Because I’ve got my lucky charm by my side. How can I lose?”

You laugh, the sound light and free. “Well, in that case, you’d better not disappoint. I expect nothing less than a victory, Sir Hamilton.”

As Lewis leans in for a kiss, you’re vaguely aware of cameras flashing and people cheering. But none of that matters. What matters is this moment, this love, this life you’ve chosen.

You think back to a year ago, when you were terrified of finding your soulmate, of the consequences it would bring. Now, standing here at Silverstone, with Lewis by your side and the hope of your brother finding his own happiness, you realize that choosing love wasn’t just the brave choice.

It was the only choice.

As Lewis heads off to prepare for the race, you take your place in the garage. The roar of engines fills the air, and you feel a surge of excitement.

This is your life now. Supporting Lewis, championing love, and showing the world that sometimes, the greatest act of duty is being true to yourself.

As the race begins, you watch Lewis tear around the track, your heart swelling with pride and love. You may not wear a tiara anymore, but you’ve gained something far more precious — the freedom to love, to choose, to be yourself.

And as the chequered flag waves and Lewis crosses the finish line in first place, you know that this victory isn’t just his.

It’s yours. It’s Edward’s. It’s everyone who’s ever had the courage to choose love over duty, happiness over expectation.

As you rush to congratulate Lewis, wrapped in his arms as the crowd cheers, you know that this is just the beginning. There will be challenges ahead, obstacles to overcome. But with love by your side and the strength to be true to yourself, you’re ready to face whatever comes.

Because in the end, love always wins. And you? You’re living proof of that.

***

The warm Brazilian sun streams through the windows of the spacious beachfront home, filling the living room with a golden glow. The sound of children’s laughter mingles with the distant crash of waves, creating a symphony of domestic bliss.

You’re seated on the plush carpet, surrounded by an array of colorful toys. Your three-year-old daughter, Emilia, is busily stacking blocks, her little face scrunched in concentration. Across from you, Edward is attempting to wrangle his own two-year-old son, James, who seems more interested in knocking down Emilia’s creations than building his own.

“James, darling, let’s build our own tower, shall we?” Edward coaxes gently, redirecting his son’s attention.

You can’t help but smile at the scene. Five years ago, you never could have imagined this — you and Edward, raising your children together, free from the constraints of royal duty.

The sound of a door opening draws your attention. Lewis walks in, his arms full of grocery bags, closely followed by Lily.

“We come bearing snacks!” Lewis announces with a grin.

Emilia’s head snaps up at the sight of her favorite person. “Daddy!” She squeals, abandoning her blocks and running to Lewis.

Lewis sets down the bags just in time to scoop up his daughter, peppering her face with kisses. “Hello, my little racer. Have you been good for Mummy?”

Emilia nods enthusiastically. “I builded a big tower!”

“Built, sweetheart,” you correct gently, getting to your feet. “And it was a very impressive tower indeed.”

Lewis sets Emilia down and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “And how’s my other favorite girl doing?”

You smile, leaning into his embrace. “Better now that you’re home. How was the market?”

“Busy,” Lily chimes in, setting down her own bags. “But we managed to get everything on the list, plus a few extras.”

Edward stands, hoisting James onto his hip. “Extras, you say? Let me guess — more of those brigadeiros that you’re definitely not addicted to, right, love?”

Lily’s cheeks flush slightly as she laughs. “I plead the fifth. This baby wants what it wants.”

Your eyes light up at the reminder. Lily is five months pregnant with their second child, and you’re all buzzing with excitement.

“Speaking of the baby,” you say, moving to help unpack the groceries, “have you two decided if you’re going to find out the gender?”

Edward and Lily exchange a look. “We’re still debating,” Edward admits. “Part of me wants to know, but there’s also something nice about the surprise.”

Lewis chuckles, joining you in the kitchen. “I remember that debate. Though if I recall correctly, someone couldn’t handle the suspense and made me call the doctor at two in the morning to find out.”

You playfully swat his arm. “Hey, you were just as curious as I was!”

As you all work together to put away the groceries and prepare snacks for the kids, you’re struck by how natural this all feels. The easy banter, the shared responsibilities, the love that permeates every interaction. It’s a far cry from the rigid formality of your royal upbringing.

“You know,” Edward says, as if reading your thoughts, “sometimes I still can’t believe this is our life now.”

You nod, understanding completely. “I know what you mean. It’s so different from what we always thought our futures would be.”

Lily comes up behind Edward, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Different, but better, right?”

Edward turns, pulling her close. “Infinitely better. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

As you watch your brother with his soulmate, you feel a wave of happiness and gratitude wash over you. It hadn’t been easy for Edward to follow in your footsteps, to give up his place in the line of succession and choose love over duty. But seeing him now, so relaxed and genuinely happy, you know it was worth every struggle.

“Earth to Y/N,” Lewis’ voice breaks through your reverie. “Where’d you go just now?”

You smile, shaking your head. “Just thinking about how far we’ve all come. How different things could have been.”

Lewis nods, understanding in his eyes. “Do you ever regret it? Giving up your title, your life in England?”

You don’t hesitate for a second. “Never. This life, with you, with our family — it’s more than I ever dreamed possible.”

A sudden crash from the living room interrupts the moment. You all rush in to find James standing triumphantly atop a mountain of scattered blocks, while Emilia looks on in horror.

“James Edward Henry Albert Windsor!” Lily exclaims, trying to sound stern but failing to hide her amusement. “What have we said about destroying other people’s creations?”

James, looking not at all repentant, grins widely. “I king of the castle!”

Edward struggles to keep a straight face as he lifts his son off the block mountain. “Yes, well, kings should be builders, not destroyers. Let’s clean this up and then we can all build a castle together, okay?”

As you all pitch in to help clean up the blocks, Emilia tugs on your sleeve. “Mummy, will James be a real king someday?”

The question catches you off guard. You exchange a look with Edward, unsure how to explain the complicated reality of your family’s situation.

Lewis kneels down next to Emilia, his voice gentle. “No, sweetheart. James won’t be a king and you won’t be a princess. But that’s okay, because you get to be something even better.”

Emilia’s eyes widen with curiosity. “What’s that, Daddy?”

Lewis smiles, pulling her into a hug. “You get to be yourself. You get to choose who you want to be and what you want to do with your life. And that’s much more special.”

You feel tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by the simple beauty of Lewis’ words. This is why you left, why you chose this life. So that your children could have the freedom you and Edward never had growing up.

As the afternoon wears on, you all migrate to the back patio. The kids play in the sand under the watchful eyes of their parents, while you, Lewis, Edward, and Lily relax on the comfortable outdoor furniture.

“So,” Lily says, her hand resting on her growing belly, “have you two given any thought to expanding your own family?”

You and Lewis share a knowing look. “Actually,” you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice, “we’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

Edward raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell, little sister.”

Lewis takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. “We’re thinking of adopting. There are so many children out there who need loving homes, and we have more than enough love to give.”

“That’s wonderful!” Lily exclaims, her eyes shining. “Oh, Emilia would love a little brother or sister.”

You nod, watching your daughter play. “We think so too. We’re just starting the process, but it feels right.”

Edward leans forward, his expression serious. “Have you thought about how this might affect things back in England? The press ...”

You sigh, having expected this question. “We have. And honestly, we’ve decided that it doesn’t matter what they think. This is our life, our family. We’re not going to let fear of judgment or outdated institutions dictate our choices anymore.”

Lewis nods in agreement. “We’ve already faced the worst they could throw at us. We came out stronger. Whatever comes next, we can handle it together.”

Edward’s serious expression melts into a proud smile. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry, old habits die hard I suppose. I’m thrilled for you both, truly.”

As the conversation flows, touching on everything from potential names for Lily and Edward’s baby to Lewis’ upcoming ambassador campaign, you’re struck by how perfectly imperfect this life is. It’s messy and chaotic at times, full of unexpected challenges and joy in equal measure. But it’s real, and it’s yours.

The sun begins to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. James and Emilia, tired from their day of play, curl up in their fathers’ laps. As you watch your brother gently stroke his son’s hair, you remember a conversation from years ago.

“Eddie,” you say softly, “do you remember what you told me the day they ... the day they burned off your soulmate mark?”

Edward looks up, his eyes clouding with the memory. “I told you that if you ever found your soulmate, you should run. Run far away and don’t look back.”

You nod, feeling Lewis’ arm tighten around you. “I’m so glad I took your advice. And I’m even more glad that you eventually followed it too.”

Edward smiles, looking down at James and then over at Lily. “So am I, Y/N. So am I.”

As the evening draws in, you all move inside. The kids are put to bed, their excited chatter about building sandcastles and racing cars fading into peaceful sleep. You, Lewis, Edward, and Lily settle in the living room, glasses of wine in hand (sparkling juice for Lily).

“A toast,” Lewis proposes, raising his glass. “To family, to love, and to the courage to choose our own path.”

“To freedom,” Edward adds, his eyes shining with emotion.

“To second chances,” Lily chimes in, her hand resting on her belly.

You raise your own glass, feeling a swell of emotion. “To us. All of us. And to the beautiful, chaotic, perfectly imperfect life we’ve built together.”

As you clink glasses, you catch Lewis’ eye. In that moment, you’re transported back to that day at Silverstone, when you first ran into each other. The fear, the excitement, the life-changing decision you made in an instant.

You wouldn’t change a thing.

As the night wears on and conversation flows freely, you realize that this — this warmth, this love, this freedom — this is what happily ever after really looks like. It’s not a fairy tale ending, but a beginning. A beginning of a life filled with love, choice, and the joy of being truly yourself.

And as you curl up in bed that night, Lewis’ arms around you and the sound of the ocean in the distance, you know that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Your family’s story is still being written. And you can’t wait to see what the next chapter brings.

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 700

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this is just a short prologue to show how things end (yay happy endings!), but the two have a lot of trauma to go through before they reach endgame. i love kinich's character and design so i'm excited for this! interaction is highly appreciated :)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

Kinich thinks he’s loved you since forever.

He has no way of proving that, of course; those years are long gone, and even if he had the opportunity to ask, he’s not sure his younger self would have a comprehensible answer. He can only see now that he’s come so far, when the memories are too murky to make sense of but the warmth remains—when he thinks of your smile and feels something akin to the weightlessness of grappling and flying through the trees.

He says “forever” because he really has no idea when it started—the realization came far after the feeling. He’d been before school age when he met you for the first time, and it’s been over a decade since then.

“Kinich!”

Your call interrupts his thoughts, and his gaze is drawn skyward—you’re standing somewhere far above him, on one of the walkways lining the cliffs of the Scions of the Canopy. You’re waving so wildly and ridiculously that it almost makes him smile.

“Are you coming down?” he calls through cupped hands, well-acquainted with this kind of long-distance communication. Sound tends to echo well between the cliffs here, and he’s sure you heard him when you offer an enthusiastic thumbs-up in return. 

“Yup! I bought a few things, so I was hoping you could help me carry them home!”

Kinich rolls his eyes teasingly. “Somehow I doubt that you have enough Mora left to afford my services.”

You pout in reply. Ajaw decides to appear then, a malicious puff of smoke over Kinich’s shoulder. “Of course not! You better not be making fun of me, letting some mortal treat you like a servant! The Almighty Dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw, won’t take this kind of disrespect—”

Ignoring his wordy introduction, you call down to Kinich again. “I’m coming down! Think fast!”

“—Don’t make me lau—wait, what?!”

Even Ajaw yelps in surprise as you take a running leap off the walkway, freefalling fast down the plane of the cliff. If he were any younger, Kinich might’ve had a heart attack. But you’ve been pushing your luck with him for years, and it comes as instinct when Kinich grapples up, deftly catching you in his arms with a light ‘oof’.

You’re holding a few boxes in your arms, he notices, and you smile. 

“I bought some Puff Pops for us to share later. I was thinking we can do some climbing, or there’s this cave I’ve been meaning to explore.”

His heart does a sort of flip that cannot be attributed to the way you fly through the sky. It’s all so much: the sensation of your warmth pressed against him, the scent of the wind rushing past, and the laughter of his tribe members below. Their eyes shine as they watch the two of you pass above them, chuckling at the familiar sight. 

And really, he can’t remember ever being this happy. When he thinks of how much it took to reach this point, the heartbreak and trauma aren’t the first things to come to mind. Instead, it’s you. The way you held him, the way you cried for him, the way you chased him. Always laughing, always in love.

Too lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice your curious stare for a moment. You poke at his cheek, and he startles, nearly dropping you both.

“Is something wrong?” you ask shyly, suddenly self-conscious of the box in your hands. “We don’t have to do any of that. Really, if you have a high-value job or something, I understand.”

Ajaw decides to butt-in again, reddened with rage. “Yes, all of that sucks! I mean, seriously, don’t you have anything better to do—”

“No, it’s great,” Kinich murmurs in reply, flicking Ajaw away with a strong hand—the Saurian’s roar dissipates with the wind. He holds you tighter against his chest. There’s nothing worth more to him than you. “That all sounds really, really amazing.”

As the two of you burst through the trees, laughing the whole way, he thinks that it doesn’t really matter when he started to love you. All that matters is that he doesn’t stop.

Kinich thinks he’ll love you forever.

[domjaehyun]

the need to know (l.dh) — part three

PAIRING. sneaky link!fwb!haechan x fem!reader  GENRE. smut, fluff, mild angst, some humor CONTENTS. mentions of marijuana, explicit smut (unprotected sex, oral (receiving), overstimulation, praise kink, dom!haechan, switch!reader, breast play, nothing too crazy in this fic dw) WORD COUNT. in total, 40.4k, part three has 7.9k SUMMARY. you and haechan have undoubtedly had tension for the majority of your friendship. what happens when you act on it? PLAYLIST. the need to know (feat. sza) - wale // notice me - sza NOTES. tada!! here’s the third and final part! it’s a lot shorter than the other two because logically it made sense to split them up like this 😁 i hope you enjoy!! your positive feedback is always appreciated 💖 thank you for reading!!

READ PART ONE HERE. — READ PART TWO HERE.

Later in the week, you’re lying cozy on the couch, scrolling through Twitter, when you’re suddenly reminded that you and your friends had plans for later today. You switch over to your Messages group chat and shoot off a quick text to put out feelers to see if everyone’s still free.

you [15:02pm] hii y’all are we still on for pottery today? chuu chuu train [15:03pm] um….. no actually 😟 i got called in for a shift at the hospital last minute mark [15:07pm] this girl at my job asked me to get drinks with her… she’s really cute… jeno [15:10pm] go get her mark 😎 i have a new client today and this was the only time she had free for her consultation :/ jaemin [15:12pm] i’m technically still free but like . kinda think i’m coming down with something you [15:14pm] sigh why must you all let me down like this 😞 renjun [15:16pm] why are you all blowing up my phone 🤨 cut it out you disliked “why are you all blowing up my phone 🤨 cut it out” you [15:17pm] okay cranky pants… you signed up to be friends with us chuu chuu train [15:19pm] yeah this gc isn’t called “the platonic polycule” for nothing!!! chuu chuu train [15:19pm] now can you make it to pottery today?   renjun [15:17pm] no i can’t sorry 😕 like i’m free but i have a design for a site due by the end of tonight and i haven’t finished… you [15:20pm] brb entering the deepest of depressions

You knock three times on Jihyo’s door, waiting for her to reply before flinging her door open with a wail. “Jihyo, everyone’s bailing!”

“I saw,” she says sympathetically.

“Only ones going are you, me, and Haechan.” you lament, collapsing onto her bed.

“Well, if that’s the case,” she says thoughtfully, “I’m not going, either.”

“What?!” you exclaim, looking up at her with an incredulous expression.

“You think I want to sit there and third-wheel whatever it is you two have going on?” she chuckles, stroking your hair soothingly. “Take it as an opportunity to do more of… whatever you two call your arrangement.”

“You’re… well, I can’t decide if I want to thank you or hit you with a pillow.” you sigh dejectedly, and she chuckles understandingly.

you [15:30pm] haechan please say you’re going… jihyo just bailed (verbally) and now i’m all alone 😞 haechan [15:32pm] my schedule’s all free for you 😌 you loved “my schedule’s all free for you 😌” you [15:33pm] AND THAT IS HOW TO BE A RELIABLE FRIEND, EVERYONE. TAKE NOTES!!!! you [15:34pm] anyway that concludes this conversation. everyone but haechan is in the dog house until further notice. farewell

You lock your phone and look up at Jihyo with a small smile. “You’re not in the dog house.” you inform her, and she smiles, running her fingers through your hair.

“Thank you for that. Want help picking out your outfit for your little pottery date with Haechan?” she offers, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly.

“It’s not a date,” you stress, sitting up. “It’s two friends hanging out and making pottery together.”

“Okay, do you want help picking out an outfit to look super duper cute for your date that’s totally not a date?” she amends with a sly grin, and you scowl, deciding to hit her with a pillow after all. “Hey!”

“That’s for teasing me.” you huff, setting the pillow back down. “But yes, I would like help.”

“Expecting help after you assaulted me is beyond crazy, by the way.”

“Please?” you plead, giving her your best puppy dog eyes, and she sighs in defeat, closing her laptop and flinging her covers off her legs.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

“Are you nervous?” you ask as you two walk up to the building your pottery class is in, and Haechan shakes his head with a chuckle.

“Of course not,” he replies confidently. “I’m good with my hands; you should know that.”

“I don’t think this activity requires the exact same skill set as the one you’re talking about, but okay.” you say with an amused expression, and he shrugs.

“I’m a fast learner.”

As it turns out, Haechan is not, in fact, as fast of a learner as he thought he was.

You giggle to yourself as you watch him struggle to make a decent looking pinch pot. “I thought you were good with your hands?” you tease as you smooth out the thumbprints in your own surprisingly pretty pinch pot, and he frowns in your direction.

“Apparently, my hands’ skills are best applied elsewhere.” he huffs, much to your amusement.

“Evidently,” you remark, smiling to yourself. “Do you want help?” you ask, and he shakes his head. 

“No… I’m hoping I have better luck when we start using the wheel.” he answers, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Okay… well, good luck with that.” you say, returning your attention to your work as you diligently make the rim of the bowl even and level.

After some time, you’re all instructed to switch to throwing on the wheel, and you’re surprised to find that it comes naturally to you, your hands sculpting a lovely bowl with a wide mouth. 

“Haechan, are you sure you don’t need help?” you offer again as you see him accidentally dig his thumb into his pot too harshly, resulting in an uneven, deep dent going around half of the bowl.

“Maybe a little assistance would be nice,” he admits in defeat, and you smile, turning off your wheel and coming to stand behind him.

“I’m gonna show you how to do it, okay?” you say softly, taking his clay covered hands in your own and guiding them to the clay on his wheel. “Wanna start over?” 

“Yeah,” he sighs, pouting, and you nod, moving to sit behind him. You rest your chin on his shoulder as you guide his hands through reverting his misshapen bowl into an even mound of clay.

“Wet your hands a little bit,” you explain, gesturing to the bowl of grayish water beside his wheel. “It’ll help you manipulate the clay better.” He dips his hands in the water, shaking them off slightly before returning his hands to the clay, tentatively placing his hands on either side of the clay. 

“Spread it out like this,” you say gently, showing him how to use his thumbs to carefully widen the surface area of the clay. “Keep your palms close like a guide for how wide you want it to get.”

“Mhm,” he hums distractedly, brows furrowed in concentration, and you help him shape the base of the bowl he’s making, forming a sort of stout cylinder of clay. 

“Good,” you encourage him, and he cracks a shy smile at the compliment, turning his head slightly to look at you. “Pay attention to what you’re doing.”

He sighs loudly, momentarily attracting the attention of some other students, but he relents, turning his head back to focus on his bowl.

“Next, you’re gonna make a small dent with your thumb in the center of the clay, and we’re gonna slowly drag the dent outwards with our thumbs to deepen and open up the mouth of the bowl.” you say next, and he nods, tongue poking out slightly as he tries to do what you’re asking him to do. “Carefully,” you remind him, guiding his thumbs as he methodically opens up the dent he made, his bowl now looking much better than before.

“Hey, it’s working!” he says excitedly, and you smile fondly, nodding. You hesitate before your next action, but decide to follow through with it anyway, turning your face in towards him to peck him gently on the cheek. He takes his hands off the wheel abruptly, turning his face towards yours as he searches your eyes with curiosity. “You kissed me.”

“I did,” you confirm, wishing he wouldn’t make such a big deal of it.

“What was that for?” he asks curiously, and you give a small shrug.

“A reward for doing a good job? And incentive to keep doing a good job.”

“So… if I make a pretty bowl, I can get another kiss?”

“Perhaps.”

“On the lips?”

“Don’t push it.” you say, rolling your eyes with an amused smile.

“Fine,” he relents, pouting slightly. “Hey, have you seen that movie, Ghost?”

“With Jennifer Love Hewitt?” you ask, and he nods. “I haven’t, but I’m pretty sure I know where you’re going with this.”

“The pottery scene?” he questions, testing you, and you nod with a smile. “Can we?”

You pause, thinking about it, before you nod. “Sure.”

He bounces in his seat excitedly before he refocuses his attention on his bowl, practically vibrating with excitement as your hands close in over his. 

Wordlessly, you help him shape his bowl, deepening the inside and lengthening the body. Your hands glide together smoothly and you’re so focused on doing a good job that it takes you ages to realize that Haechan isn’t even looking at the bowl anymore, his gaze now focused entirely on you with a mix of wonder and fascination on his face.

“Please pay attention before you distract me too and we fuck this bowl up.” you say with a small, amused smile, and he shakes his head.

“I think I need more incentive.” he states, and you look at him with a slight roll of your eyes.

“Just say you want me to kiss you again.”

“Okay, I want you to kiss me again.”

“No. Focus on the bowl.”

“What?! You just told me to say I want another kiss.” he complains, frowning.

“I didn’t say I was going to give you one. I just wanted you to be upfront about what you want.”

“I want a kiss,” he says, stubbornness creeping into his voice, and you sigh. 

“If I give you a kiss, will you focus?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he agrees, nodding to seal his promise, and you purse your lips thoughtfully as you think it over.

“Okay.” you say finally, and he beams at you before removing his hands from the wheel entirely and turning in his seat to face you. You lean in, Haechan moving with you, and connect your lips in a sweet kiss.

He hums, pleased, and moves to cup your cheek before you grab his wrist and set it down on his lap.

“You have clay all over your hands, and I don’t think that’d look too good on my face.” you murmur against his lips as you two part, and he laughs, the sound surprisingly sheepish for him.

“Sorry, I forgot.” he chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Thanks for the kiss, baby.”

“You’re welcome. You think we can finish the bowl now?”

“I think your kiss gave me enough strength to push through and finish strong.” he remarks with a cheeky grin, and you snort.

“That is so dramatic. You’re lucky you’re cute.” you huff, and he beams at you.

“Sure am.”

By the time you two make it back to your front door, the sun is starting to set, streaks of orange, gold, and a beautiful shade of rose filtering in through the window in your hallway.

“I had a really fun time today,” Haechan says, looping his pinky around yours and swinging your hands back and forth.

“Me too,” you agree, smiling. “Are you gonna tell me what you painted at the bottom of your bowl now?”

“Nope,” he replies with a grin. When you pout, he coos fondly, mirroring your expression. “You’ll see when they’re finished and we go to pick them up.”

“Fine,” you huff. “Hey, do you… maybe want to come in? Jihyo and Jiwoo are still out.” you ask, nibbling your bottom lip nervously.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he admits with a sheepish grin, and a relieved smile overtakes your face as you unlock your front door and lead him inside.

“So, you’re telling me you’re not even the slightest bit curious what a parallel universe might look like for you?” you ask incredulously.

“Oh, I’m definitely curious,” he replies. “I just can’t imagine wanting to live in that reality.”

“Really? What if in your parallel universe you were a hot shot musician?” 

“Still no.” 

“You’re insane,” you gasp, and he chuckles softly, the look in his eyes incredibly raw and vulnerable, and you find yourself scrambling over your words in an attempt to protect the quivering heart Haechan’s presenting to you in his gaze. “Well—why this universe, hm? Why, out of all the universes you could be a part of, do you want this one?”

“I wouldn’t want to live in a parallel universe,” Haechan says slowly, “if it means I might not meet you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the gravity of his words weighing heavy in your heart, and now you think you understand the look he was giving you earlier. “Do you mean that?” you ask softly, and he nods, leaning in to brush his lips against your cheek.

“Every word, pretty.” he confirms, and you’re grateful you’re sitting down because you would have visibly swooned otherwise. 

“Jeez, Haechan, are you trying to woo me?” you joke softly, and he tilts your chin up with one finger, turning your head to face him.

“Mm, depends,” he sighs, brushing his lips against yours with a hint of a smile. “Is it working?”

“Not gonna lie? Yeah,” you murmur, smiling bashfully when he chuckles.

“Good,” he chuckles, kissing you softly. Like the others, this kiss ensnares your mind and body, but there’s a tenderness, a hesitance you don’t see from Haechan often. He molds his lips with yours slowly and sweetly, chasing after you when you pull back slightly for air before breaking the kiss and nuzzling your nose with his. “Hi,” he says softly, smiling shyly.

“Hi,” you giggle, kissing his nose lightly. He beams at you and leans in for another kiss, his hand gently resting on your knee. As you two kiss, his hand moves up gradually, pushing up the hem of your sundress until it’s bunched up your thigh just before your underwear.

His kisses grow in passion, in need, until he’s greedily kissing you as you run out of air and have to break the kiss with a gasp. “Let me kiss you,” he whines, clutching at your thigh as he leans in again.

“Let me breathe for a second,” you laugh, and he chuckles quietly.

“Sorry. You done breathing yet?” he asks, and you snort, bursting out into laughter. He joins you, tickled by your amusement, and when you manage to control yourselves, he sighs happily. “So—”

“Yes, I’m done breathing.” you say with a small roll of your eyes and a smile, and he grins, leaning in to kiss you again. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he wonders, and you shake your head. “I’m an idiot, then,” he continues, “because you look stunning.”

“Oh, yeah?” you ask, and he nods firmly. 

“This little white and pink number you have on,” he murmurs, tugging at the strap on your shoulder until it slips off, “is driving me crazy.”

“Is it, now?” you hum, goading him on, and he nods again.

“It matches your cute little bow.” he points out, and you smile, pleased.

“It does,” you confirm, and he smiles before kissing you again. “You know what else it matches?”

“Mm, what, baby?” he mumbles against your lips.

“My underwear.” you answer, and he stills, looking at you with wonder and desire in his eyes.

“You’re joking,” he breathes, and you shake your head, smiling. “Let me see?” It’s phrased like a question, but it’s anything but if the way Haechan is already lifting your dress is any indication. “Please?” he adds almost as an afterthought, and you giggle, allowing him to pull your dress up enough to see your baby pink underwear. “Fuck,” he groans, his head falling into your lap, and you laugh as he presses his face between your legs, quickly maneuvering himself so your thighs are on either side of his body. He presses a loud kiss to the front of your underwear, then another slightly lower, and when his lips graze your clit through the fabric, you jolt, and he smiles. “You liked that?”

“A little,” you fib, and he nods in smug confirmation, leaning back down to press another kiss to the fabric over the seat of your underwear where a damp spot is gradually forming. 

“A little?” he echoes skeptically. “This doesn’t feel like a little.” he points out as his lips brush against your dampened underwear.

“Don’t get cocky,” you breathe, tugging on his hair as a warning.

“You make it so hard not to, baby,” he coos, trailing one finger up your slit through the underwear and around your clit in circles as you squirm slightly and keen for his touch. “Look how well you react to me, pretty girl—you expect that not to make my head a little big?”

“Whatever,” you huff, frowning petulantly. “Just stop teasing.”

“What is it you want me to do?” he asks innocently, and you roll your eyes.

“Same thing you wanna do.” you reply, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I want to taste your pretty pussy,” he says slowly, maintaining eye contact the whole while. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you agree instantly, and he smiles. “What now?”

“Say it,” he urges softly, lifting himself up to bring his lips to yours. “I want you to say it.”

“Haechan, please don’t tease me,” you plead, and he shakes his head.

“Wanna know how bad you want it.” he replies, and you sigh loudly. 

“I want you to… do that.” you mumble, and he shakes his head with a growing smile.

“Do what?” 

“Haechan!”

“Baby, say it and I’ll make your eyes roll back, I swear,” he says seriously. “I just want you to say it.”

“I want you to… go down on me.” you murmur shyly, and he beams, returning his head to between your legs.

“Now was that so hard?” he asks, and you roll your eyes in exasperation.

“Yes, actually.” 

“Aw, poor baby,” he teases, his words almost distracting you from the way his fingers tug your underwear aside. “You’ll live,” he assures you before leaning in to kiss you right on the clit. You jolt at the sudden sensation, moving away from him, but he loops his arms around your thighs and pulls you back to his face, tongue stroking against your folds before delving in between them. His nose bumps your clit with every lewd wet glide of his tongue along your core, and your breath catches every time, your body wired with desire and anticipation as he messily but expertly devours you.

“Feels good,” you whine breathlessly, and you can feel him smile against your core.

“I know, baby, you’re so wet,” he purrs, sucking on your clit with a groan and a loud, wet pop as he pulls back. “Am I that good, or do you just like me that much?”

You don’t know what comes over you, especially given that Haechan gave you an easy out, but you moan out, “I like you,” heat warming your cheeks as you realize what you just said.

“Yeah, baby? You like me?” he echoes, pressing two fingers against your entrance. “How much?”

“So much, Haechan, like you so much,” you gasp, wanting nothing more than for him to continue, and he moans in delight before doing just that, fingers pushing into you greedily before he litters kisses all over your inner thighs and drags his tongue in wet stripes up your thigh to your core. 

“Like you too, baby, so fucking much,” he grunts, pumping his fingers inside of you as he flicks his tongue over your clit. “Tastes so good, baby, pussy tastes so good—”

“Haechan—”

“Let me make you cum, baby, I wanna make you cum,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you to fuck into your g-spot. “Please cum for me, please, please, please—” His lips are wrapped around your clit, sucking and kissing and tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive button, and his throaty pleas for your release send vibrations through your clit, your body electrified with jolts of pleasure.

“Gonna—you’re gonna make me cum, Haechan—” you whimper breathlessly, and he links the fingers of his free hand with yours as he looks up at you, watching in wonder as you start to fall apart. His tongue works against you fervently, lapping up every bit of arousal that gushes from your entrance around his fingers, and your back arches off the bed, your abdomen tensing as your peak hits. Pleasure shoots through you like a dose of adrenaline, your stomach coiling in on itself as the aftershocks of your climax start to appear. 

Haechan moves with you every bit of the way, craning his neck upwards to keep licking at your core, desperate for every drop of pleasure he can get from you. Your hips drop to the bed, your body feeling spent as he languidly swirls his tongue around your clit and his fingers inside of you.

“Felt good, baby?” he asks throatily, and you nod with a blissed out smile.

“Felt amazing.” you assure him, and he beams up at you, your cum glistening on his chin. 

He crawls up your body to kiss you, quickly deepening the kiss as he reaches to open his pants. You reach your hand inside his boxers when he’s finished, wrapping your hand around his base and starting to stroke him up and down. He groans and lowers his head to kiss down your neck and when he gets to your collarbone, he nips at the thin flesh there, making you hiss in pleasure.

“Need you inside,” you moan, and he nods eagerly, pushing his boxers down and out of the way as his length emerges from its confines.

Without further ado, you bring the head of his shaft to your entrance, pushing it in as far as you can manage, and he whimpers with pleasure, breathing in loudly through his nose. 

“Feels good?” you coo against his lips, and he nods vigorously, his eyebrows knitting together. 

“Feels so fucking good, baby, you have no idea—your pussy drives me crazy.” he grunts before thrusting in more. “Need more, baby, I need it so bad—” he rasps out, and you nod encouragingly, pulling him closer to you.

“Take it, Haechan, it’s yours,” you assure him, and his eyes roll back into his head in bliss before he’s kissing you again, lips molding with yours feverishly as he thrusts into you until he’s bottomed out fully. “So full,” you moan, and he grins distractedly, brows still furrowed as he moves in and out of you in slow, fluid strokes.

“Love filling my baby up,” he coos as his hips settle into the rhythm he’s set for himself. “Pretty baby’s pussy loves sucking my cock in, doesn’t it?”

“Mm—love it, Haechan, feels so good—”

This time around feels… different. Not bad-different at all, just… intimate. There’s the possessiveness from that night at the hotel in Fire Island, then there’s this, a heady blend of devotion and belonging to each other and you just about lose your mind as his length twitches inside of you. 

“Gonna fill you up, baby, gonna make you all mine,” he pants, and you nod with a whimper, reaching for him for another kiss which he reciprocates eagerly. As you kiss him, his length throbs inside of you, pulsing with need, and you can tell he’s close. “Want to cum, baby, but I want you to cum with me.”

You reach between your bodies and start to rub at your clit rapidly, free hand clutching your clothed breast as your whines and cries escalate in volume. His lips find their way to your neck and you just about pass out from all the pleasure, a deep shudder traveling through you when his mouth seeks purchase behind your ear, tongue trailing up and down the small crevice.

Your climaxes come right around the same time; Haechan’s starts first, but yours comes in with all the force of a wildfire, burning through everything in its path. Gasps and moans and the sounds of the sheets rustling are all you can hear as you two ride out your highs, and your eyes screw shut, white stars twinkling and flooding your vision as you rock down onto him to milk your climaxes for all they’re worth. 

When you’re both fully depleted of energy, he pulls out of you and lies down beside you, both of you breathing loudly. After a moment of rest, Haechan gets up and heads out of the room, returning shortly after with a damp cloth which he uses to wipe you down. 

“Thanks,” you sigh sleepily, and he nods with a smile, cupping your chin and kissing you sweetly. 

“It’s getting late,” he sighs. “I should probably get going.”

“Wh—well, why?” you ask with a frown, and he smiles sadly. 

“I have a lot of coding to do tomorrow.” he explains, and you nod slowly, carefully thinking over your next words.

“Do you wanna just… spend the night here?” you ask tentatively, and he looks over at you, hope alight in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean,” you start to say, stumbling over your words slightly. “I feel like it’s late—”

“So late.” he agrees.

“And Ubers are probably expensive back to your place right now—”

“Don’t even get me started on the surge pricing.”

“Right! So, I mean, financially, it just makes sense for you… to stay… here… with me.” you finish, and he looks you over slowly with a budding grin on his face.

“I think that’s clearly the most economically sound decision.” he agrees, and you smile, relieved.

“Great. Now come back here.” you say, patting the spot next to you, and he obliges eagerly, climbing onto the bed and snuggling up to you. “Y’know, we’ve broken, like, all the rules basically.” you mumble, and he scoffs dismissively.

“Maybe those rules are outdated and stupid.”

“I mean, we did put them in place for a reason,” you sigh, and he lifts his head up to look at you skeptically. “But, I mean, maybe they don’t really apply to our scenario anymore…”

“Exactly.” he replies with a hint of smugness in his tone. “So cuddle me and go to sleep.”

And so you do just that, wondering all the while how Haechan might define your scenario now.

When you wake up in the morning, Haechan is hugging you to his chest, your legs tangled together. You peek up at him, smiling at his puffy lips slightly parted as he breathes softly. 

“Haechan?” you say softly, and his nose wrinkles slightly before it relaxes, the male not stirring. “Haechan,” you hum gently, and he scrunches his eyes closed before he barely opens them to look at you. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he mumbles sleepily.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, and he breathes in deeply before nodding. “Want me to make, like, pancakes or something?”

“Please?” he rasps, and your core tingles with need at his low voice.

“Okay,” you whisper, moving to untangle yourself from him. He groans in protest, clutching you tighter, and you chuckle lightly. “I can’t make the pancakes from the bed,” you remind him, and he frowns before loosening his grip on you, allowing you to extract yourself from his arms. 

You climb out of the bed, grabbing some clothes to wear around the house and going to the bathroom to wash up. When you’re done, you make your way to the kitchen and start setting up to make pancakes, eggs, and bacon as a treat.

You’re letting the pan warm up on the stove as you mix the batter when Haechan emerges from the hallway, sleepily shuffling towards you.

“I have so much work to do today,” he groans, sitting down at the kitchen island and putting his head down. 

“Aw, poor Haechan.” you coo sympathetically, and your soft tone is enough to evoke the whininess from him that you knew was waiting to come out.

“I don’t wanna,” he complains, and you nod understandingly. 

“I bet.” you sigh, pouring the first pancake into the pan. The sizzle starts slow and builds gradually as the batter cooks, and you turn to face Haechan, walking around the kitchen island and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and resting your cheek on his back. You feel him relax in your embrace, Haechan turning around to face you so he can hold your waist and press his lips to your forehead.

“You’re the best.” he mumbles against your forehead. He pulls back slightly to look at you, something tender in his eyes that you haven’t seen before to this extent. It thrills you and yet, something in you is holding back, waiting for the bad news to hit. 

Sure enough, a moment later, a dopey smile crosses his features and he parts his lips to speak, the words “I l—” barely making it out before he snaps his mouth shut with a look of alarm, provoking you to raise your eyebrows in confusion.

“You l—” you prompt him, and he shakes his head, extracting himself from you. 

“I should, um, go get started on my codes for my boss.” he mutters, that same hint of panic weighing on his every action as he starts to walk towards your room, turns back to face you, then shakes his head and finally heads to your room.

“What the hell was that?” you wonder aloud, hurt and confused, but you don’t have much time to deliberate, because he’s entering the kitchen once more, now looking significantly more awake and, more importantly, ready to leave. “Oh, you’re leaving?” you reply, even more confusion swimming in your head.

“Yeah, I, um, I have to get a head start on my work if I don’t want to be up all night,” he mumbles with a chuckle, and the hollowness of it makes your heart ache.

“Haechan, did I do something?” you ask carefully, trying not to sound as wounded as you feel.

“No,” he’s quick—perhaps too quick—to say, shaking his head vehemently. “I just really have to go.” he insists, heading to your front door without a single look back. 

When your door shuts, you stand there, contemplating what just happened and what could have gone so wrong that it made Haechan up and leave like that. You flip the pancake in the pan over half-heartedly, observing the golden brown cooked side before your vision clouds with unshed tears.

“Fuck,” you mutter, wiping your eyes. You hear footsteps heading towards the kitchen from what sounds like Jihyo’s room, and sure enough, she steps into the kitchen, regarding you curiously. 

“Hey,” she says carefully, watching you with increasing concern as you try and fail not to cry. “You okay?”

“Want pancakes?” you ask, your voice cracking on the last syllable, and she rushes over to you, pulling you into a tight, warm hug as you break down quietly in her arms.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she soothes you, rubbing your back in comforting motions. “What happened?”

You sniffle pathetically as you start to tearfully explain everything that went down, from last night to this very strange morning, and Jihyo listens intently, her brows furrowing in sympathy as your bottom lip trembles when you get to recounting the activities of this morning.

“Wow,” she finally says. “Okay, get dressed. No more sad pancakes. We’re gonna get brunch, my treat, and we’re gonna talk this out until you feel better.” she urges, patting your butt lightly to push you forward. 

“Okay,” you say sadly, heading to your room to get dressed.

“So,” Jihyo says as she stirs her coffee. “How long has this been going on?”

You take a break from listlessly poking at your crepes and think back. “About two weeks,” you answer, and she raises her eyebrows.

“It took two weeks for this whole thing to get this off-track?” she asks, surprised, and you nod. “You definitely have feelings for each other.”

“I mean, I have feelings for him,” you explain. “I don’t know if it’s reciprocated.”

She shoots you a blank look over her coffee mug as she takes a tentative sip. “My love?”

“Hm?”

“You know I love you, right?”

You sigh. “What is it?”

“You sound like an idiot.”

“Hey!” 

“You do! You two made rules, he broke virtually every last one of them, and you think he doesn’t have feelings for you?” she exclaims in disbelief.

“Well, he said he wanted it to be casual.” you defend yourself petulantly, and she rolls her eyes.

“Is it casual now?”

“Well, no…”

“And whose fault is that?”

“...Mine?” you ask, and she tsks in disapproval.

“No. Well, slightly, because you allowed it, but Haechan is the one who made things complicated! Sure, he said he wanted it to be casual, but he’s being anything but. He’s walking around acting like your straight-up boyfriend, and you can’t tell if he likes you or not?” she says incredulously, and you pause, thinking over her words.

“Well, then, why would he say he wanted to keep things casual?” you huff, frowning.

“One of two reasons: he might have thought you weren’t interested in dating him and just wanted to be with you in any way he can get.” she explains, and you nod thoughtfully.

“And the other reason?”

“Well, sometimes guys say they don’t want anything serious so they can use it as an excuse to fool around with other girls.” she says honestly, and you blink several times before speaking next.

“You think he’s fooling around with other girls?” you ask worriedly, and she stares at you blankly.

“That should not have been the only takeaway you got from what I just said.”

“Oh, sorry.” you mumble, sipping at your iced coffee.

“Look, can I be honest with you?” Jihyo asks, continuing on before you can answer to say, “Great; I feel like you already liked him before this happened, he definitely liked you too, and now you’re conflicted because of feelings that were present before this was set in motion.” 

You think over her words once more before saying, “So, you don’t think he’s fucking around with other girls?”

Sighing loudly, Jihyo pinches the bridge of her nose. “You are about as stubborn as a mule, you know that?”

“Yes,” you reply with a doleful look. “It’s one of my specialties.”

“Does Jiwoo know about all of this?” she asks, and you shake your head.

“I haven’t told her anything, so I don’t think so.” you sigh, and she screws her face up in thought.

“Maybe we should consult her and see what she thinks.” she suggests helpfully, and you shrug. “Now, I’m not sure if you know this, but the crepes are supposed to make you feel better… but you have to actually eat them to feel the benefits.”

You smile sheepishly and separate a forkful, placing the now-room temperature food in your mouth and chewing. A small smile starts to grow on your face, and she smiles, pleased.

“Now, I want you to think about this carefully; like, do you really want to do this?” Jihyo asks, and you shrug.

“I want things to stay the way they were before this morning.” you lament.

Jihyo raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to be his girlfriend?”

“Oh! Oh, I do. I very much do, yes.” you say, nodding emphatically, and she smiles fondly.

“Then I think we should see what Jiwoo says. She’ll probably agree with me because, well… I’m right.”

“Says you,” you mumble under your breath, and she raises a challenging eyebrow.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Thought so.” 

“I think you always liked him,” Jiwoo says. “Like, I could tell from a mile away; anyone could tell. It’s in the way you guys look at each other.” 

“Wait, you guys really think he likes me back?” you ask, hopeful and bewildered.

“Yes, dummy, he likes you back.” Jiwoo says with a roll of her eyes.

“Well… that’s not enough!” you exclaim, and Jihyo and Jiwoo groan, exasperated. “I need him to say it!”

As if the heavens were listening, your phone lights up with an incoming call notification from none other than Haechan. “Oh, shit,” you mumble, staring at it blankly.

“Um, pick up?” Jihyo stresses, whacking your arm. “Girl, pick up!” 

You snatch the phone up from the bed and answer it, calling, “Hello?” into the phone and waiting with bated breath.

“Speaker!” Jiwoo mouths, and Jihyo nods vigorously in agreement. 

You put it on speaker in time for Haechan’s voice to filter through the phone. “Hey, are you home?” 

“Yes, I am,” you answer casually, as if your last interaction didn’t literally reduce you to tears.

“Are Jihyo or Jiwoo home?” he asks, and all of you make the same confused expression at each other, looking at the phone in bewilderment.

“Say no!” Jihyo whispers, and you wave her off.

“They’re home,” you answer, and she throws her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Why?”

“Can you come outside for a second? I need to ask you something.”

“Y’know, Haechan, phone calls were invented so people could ask other people things.”

“I know, but I want to see you,” he stresses hopefully, and you look between Jihyo and Jiwoo, both of whom are nodding vigorously. “Please?”

“Okay,” you agree, and Jiwoo collapses on her back, Jihyo heaving a relieved sigh. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Great,” he says, abruptly ending the call.

“What if he wants to cut things off?” you worry aloud, and Jihyo grabs your shoulders, shaking them firmly. 

“He’s not gonna cut things off. You’ll never know what he wants to do if you don’t go down there and talk to him.” she says sternly, and you blink at her petulantly.

“Fine,” you lament, getting up from the bed and trudging to the front door. 

When you get downstairs, you can see Haechan waiting through the glass doors of your lobby entrance, and he perks up visibly when he sees you, a good indicator.

You step outside and look at Haechan, whose smile widens when you’re standing in front of him.

“Hi,” you say carefully, and his smile turns sheepish.

“Hi,” he says, and it dawns on you that he’s holding his hands behind his back.

“What are you hiding?” you ask curiously, and he smiles wider, presenting you with something wrapped in grayish brown craft paper. You take it and hold onto it, but Haechan frowns, making you let out a noise of confusion.

“Open it!” he urges, and you can’t help but smile at his eagerness, obliging and opening the wrapping. There, in your hands, is the bowl you helped Haechan make; it’s been lightly glazed with your favorite shade of pink, and it looks prettier than it did when you two made it, somehow.

“Oh! Thank you,” you say with a smile, and he gestures for you to continue, making you let out yet another confused sound. 

“Look at the bottom of the bowl.” he says excitedly, and you do just that, peering inside to see—

“Oh,” you gasp softly.

There, in Haechan’s handwriting, are the words “Be Mine?” 

“That’s why I wouldn’t let you see when I was done painting.” he says, bashful now, and you smile widely, looking up at him with bright eyes. “Sorry I’ve been so weird and quiet today; I already liked you, but it hit me last night that I really like you, and this morning I realized that I might even love you.”

“Oh?” you say, smiling so widely it hurts.

“Yeah,” he confirms, nodding proudly. “I went to the pottery place and paid the instructor to bake mine early so I could bring it to you.” 

“Oh, Haechan,” you say softly, your heart swelling in your chest until you fear it might burst.

“I know I said I wasn’t ready for a relationship, but I’m willing to try it if it means I get to be with you—properly this time.” he finishes, and you look up from the bowl to see a hopeful look on his face.

“Oh, thank God,” you sigh, relieved, and Haechan visibly relaxes, a wide smile on his face. “I’ve liked you for ages, actually—like, long before we started this whole arrangement.”

“Me too,” he echoes shyly, and you step closer, throwing your arms around his neck for a tight hug. He wraps his arms around your waist and stays there, holding you tightly. You turn your face inwards to kiss him on the cheek, only for Haechan to look at you like you just slapped him in the face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, confused, and he huffs petulantly.

“I just professed my undying love for you and all I get is a kiss on the cheek?” he squawks, affronted, and you snicker.

“‘Undying love’ is a little crazy, Haechan,” you point out, and he glowers at you.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m a little crazy.” he counters, and you feign surprise.

“Wow… no way… I had no idea… I am just so shocked.” you drawl, and he narrows his eyes.

“Ha, ha, ha. Stop mocking me and put that mouth to better use,” he huffs, pulling you into him for a kiss. It’s deep and slow, Haechan kissing you like he has all the time in the world.

You hear familiar voices cheering, and you look around before looking up to see Jihyo and Jiwoo sticking their heads out of your window, watching you two with smiles on their faces.

“Didn’t know your roommates and our friends were Peeping Toms,” he jokes, and you giggle.

“Less talking, more kissing!” Jiwoo calls out.

“Mind your business, perverts!” you splutter indignantly. 

“No, no, no, why don’t we do what the perverts say?” Haechan suggests with a grin, and kisses you before you can respond, breathing in deeply as he wraps his arms around you tighter.

As you stand on the street, kissing Haechan in front of your best friends, all you can do is smile.

“I don’t think I can eat anymore,” Jaemin groans, rubbing his stomach as you all trudge down the boardwalk. “When they call it a food truck crawl, they’re not kidding; I feel like I should be on my hands and knees right now.”

“You’re weak,” Renjun comments casually. “I’m fine.”

“No, but I really can’t.” Jaemin protests, and Jihyo chuckles. “What’s so funny?” 

“You said that three trucks ago.” she points out, and Jaemin frowns.

“Yeah, but I feel like I’m about to burst—” Jaemin bemoans before stopping short. When you all follow his gaze to a fried dough truck, you burst out laughing.

“What was that about you being about to burst?” you tease, and Jaemin makes a conflicted face, rubbing his stomach.

“Well… maybe I can make room for something sweet…” he mumbles, and you nod in understanding.

“You definitely can,” you encourage him, and he smiles before leading the way to the food truck.

“You’re a bad influence,” Mark laughs, and you shrug.

“He wanted it! I just let him know he could probably fit it in his stomach.” 

“Yeah, leave my girl alone.” Haechan gripes, looping his arm around your waist and tugging you into his side.

“Yeah, leave his girl alone.” you huff, scrunching your nose at Mark, who rolls his eyes.

“You’re definitely more insufferable together,” he comments, and you smile, shrugging.

“Too bad.”

“Yeah, deal with it.” Haechan chuckles, kissing you on the cheek.

“Petition to make them break up?” Renjun proposes, and Jihyo reaches over to swat his arm. “Hey!”

“Hey, yourself,” she counters. “I think they’re cute.”

“Why, thank you, Jihyo, my dear friend.” you sigh happily, resting your head on Haechan’s shoulder.

You’re finally at the food truck, and after the attendant takes your order, Haechan steps forward, tapping his phone to the card reader when it prompts him to pay.

“Haechan, baby, you’ve paid for all my food; the pretzel bits, the funnel cake, the loaded hot dogs, the ice cream—”

“I know—”

“The mozzarella sticks—”

“I want to!”

“The tater tots—”

“Baby.”

“And now the fried dough!” you finish off as if he’d never spoken, and he smiles fondly, cupping your face in his hands.

“You’re my girl, right?”

“Of course,” you reply, the words slightly distorted due to his hold on your face.

“That’s right. You’re my girl, so I got you.” he answers simply, and you feel heat rushing to your face.

“Fuck, why was that attractive?” you mumble to yourself, and he chuckles, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I’m glad you like it, because I’m not stopping any time soon.” he informs you. “Got it?”

“Got it.” you reply, and he nods in satisfaction.

“Good.” he says, releasing your face and taking your hand. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, and you smile fondly, happier than ever.

“Hey, Haechan, if I bat my eyes all cute like her, can I get free food, too?” Renjun asks, and Haechan snorts.

“Good luck looking as good as she does when she does it.” 

“Did you just call me ugly?!” Renjun splutters, and Haechan raises his hands defensively, your linked hand coming up with his involuntarily.

“No one said that. I just said you’re not gonna look as good to me as she does when she does it.” he replies calmly, and Renjun narrows his eyes at him.

“Tread carefully, Lee Haechan.” Renjun warns him.

Haechan rolls his eyes. “I’m so scared.”

“I’ll deglove you!” Renjun threatens, and you raise an eyebrow. 

“I’ll castrate you if you even think about it for too long.” you tell him.

Renjun frowns. “I hate when they’re on the same side, and now they’re gonna be on the same side forever!”

He stomps off to another food truck in the distance, and your friends, after receiving their orders, follow after him. You and Haechan fall to the back of the group, and Haechan hums thoughtfully, prompting you to turn your head to look at him.

“What is it?”

“I like the sound of that.” he muses, and you make a face.

“Surely we’re not talking about the castrating and degloving.”

“We most certainly are not.” Haechan assures you, and you relax. “The ‘forever’ part.” You promptly inhale so sharply that you choke on the bite of fried dough in your mouth, and Haechan rubs your back soothingly as you cough and hack and gasp for air. “You alright, baby?”

“I’m good,” you pant, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “Before I almost died just now, I was going to say that… I like the sound of ‘forever’ too.”

“With me?” he asks hopefully, and you roll your eyes.

“No, with Jeno.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Not funny.”

“Wasn’t laughing. Yes, with you, dummy.”

“I may be a dummy, but I’m your dummy. And you’re stuck with me. Forever.” he draws out the last word with a bright grin.

And as you lean in to kiss him, you murmur, “I definitely can live with that.”

and that’s the end! i hope you enjoyed!! stay tuned for a bonus scene of this fic, exclusive to patreon!!

[runariya]

Crash Course in Love • 2

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, fluff, tension, bad communication skills, jealousy, alcohol, smoking, heartbreak, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 17.3k

a/n: 19 days later and here's part 2 at last! hope you like it still and I can't wait to see your reactions lol DON’T HATE ME! LOVE YOU ALL 💕 ENJOY

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

01 • masterlist • 03

Day 2

There’s something about the way you crash after a day that’s drained you not just physically but emotionally too. After your bath and after you grabbed your luggage when you were sure Jungkook wouldn’t be in his room anymore, and with your stomach still full from the Korean BBQ at Tae’s, you passed out immediately. Yoongi’s snoring didn’t bother you in the slightest—if anything, the vibrations seemed to massage your sore body through the mattress.

You feel even more lost when you wake up just after 5:30 in the morning, fully rested but with muscles still stiff. You’re not sure if Tae’s smoothie did anything or if you’d feel completely dead now without it. It’s not that you want to go back to sleep either, knowing you’ll just wake up even more tired if you try, experience showing that extra hours do more harm than good. 

Not wanting to listen to Yoongi’s ongoing snoring any longer, you carefully slip out of bed without waking him and reach for the book you brought with you. But just as you’re about to head out of the suite, you stop, eyeing Yoongi’s coat. 

Should you?

You quit smoking months ago, only started when you broke things off with Jungkook, but just thinking about everything that was said yesterday—and what’s still to come—makes you struggle. You’ll probably hate yourself for it afterwards, but still, you go back to his coat and rummage for his cigarettes and lighter. 

Realising you only brought one pair of boots, which are currently at Hope’s, and there’s no way you’re stepping out into the snow in slippers or your snowboard boots, you grab Yoongi’s spare designer boots and your snowboard jacket as well. 

It’s impressive, really, that you manage to carry everything out of the room without dropping anything, and that Yoongi stays sound asleep despite the obvious rustling of your coat as you move.

You’re thankful Namjoon kept his word about keeping the fireplace lit, not just because its warmth meets you in the corridor but also for the soft glow it casts along the way to the main area.

Pausing for a second, you can hear Yoongi still snoring through the door, along with louder, muffled snores further down the corridor, which must be Namjoon’s. And, who would’ve thought, you hear some very light snoring coming from Jungkook’s room too.

It feels like you’re walking past caves in some forgotten time, surrounded by Neanderthals who snore more to fend off predators than from sinus problems. It’s funny in a way, you reckon. That’s just how biology works, even if you and every other woman in this world are the ones who suffer through the night because of it.

As you reach the main area, of course, you can’t manage all the things you’re holding, and your book falls to the floor, the sound louder than it should be. You think it didn’t wake anyone, but you’re not sure—Jungkook might be awake, he’s always been a light sleeper, though Namjoon’s snoring is too loud now to tell.

Not bothering to pick it up, knowing you’ll drop something else if you try, you kick the book towards the couches, hoping none of the great authors are cursing you for it. The heat of the fireplace, even though it’s only simmering, pulls you to sink back into the cushions once you’ve set your things down.

The hostel feels so much cosier than by daytime, long shadows casting a warm, festive glow like Christmas morning. You almost wish you’d spent the holiday here instead of alone at home.

Just yesterday, you longed for Jungkook to be by your side, to experience this place and this town with you. But now, even though he is here, it doesn’t feel as fulfilling as you thought it would.

Obviously, he’s been here before, and even when he’s spending time with you, it’s under circumstances you wish were different. It destroys you how things are, how you’re treating each other, how much hatred he clearly has for you now, just at the sight of you.

You understand his bitterness though, understand that he probably wishes he’d never seen you again. But what can you do? It’s not like you booked this hostel on purpose, as if you orchestrated the whole thing just to run into him.

No, it’s all just a coincidence. A brutal one at that. You didn’t have time to prepare yourself, didn’t have time to think about how you’d approach him after all this time, or what you’d say.

You reckon he feels the same—blindsided, overwhelmed, hurt. And he has every reason to be. Still, it hurts so deeply, so excruciatingly, that you just want to leave and never look back. It feels like there’s no saving your relationship with Jungkook, not even the hope of being friends.

Or maybe this trip will be the closure you need. Maybe it’ll be the final heartbreak, the one that’s been dragging on for far too long, but now will come to a head and let you move on, even though deep down you don’t want to. You’re sure Jungkook was the one for you—a love once in a lifetime, the one who got away.

Tossing the book from one hand to the other, your eyes can’t help but linger on the pack of cigarettes lying on the table in front of you. It’s dumb, smoking—you know that, always have. But God, you’re broken. You’re so, so sad, it’s suffocating. And you know it won’t help.

You know smoking, like any other addiction, is just a result of loneliness. That doesn’t make it any easier to resist.

You set the book down, slip into Yoongi’s boots again, and pull on your coat, ignoring the voice in your head telling you not to backslide, not to undo months of progress. But still, you ignore that voice as much as you ignore Namjoon’s snoring, and grab the pack and lighter and stand to head outside once you’re fully clothed. 

You’d forgotten about the chime when you open the front door, pausing for a moment as if it’s trying to stop you, but you keep moving, letting the door shut behind you as the early morning greets you. 

The streets are empty, the air biting cold. But the fairy lights are still on, their glow reflecting silently off the snow and ornaments, but you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it.

Your breath fogs with every exhale as you slowly open the cigarette pack, your hands turning rosy in the cold, warmth steaming off them like dumplings.

You take one out, slip the pack into your coat pocket, and toy with the cigarette between your fingers. 

Should you?

You know you shouldn’t.

You.

Know.

But no one’s here to stop you. Who would even care? So you put it between your dry lips and light it, guarding the flame with your hand as if to stop it from dying the way your heart did.

The first drag is equal parts disgusting and relieving, and soon, your thoughts start to fade. Your chest feels lighter, despite the toxins filling it. Maybe breaking up with Jungkook was the first step towards your own downfall. Maybe it was always meant to be.

The front door opens behind you when you’re halfway through your cigarette, but you don’t turn around. There are only three options for who might join you—Yoongi, up for his first smoke of the day; Namjoon, woken by the chime and curious to see what’s going on; or Jungkook. Though you wouldn’t know why it’d be the latter.

“Smoking kills.”

“So does snowboarding,” you reply through the puff of smoke escaping your lips.

“Fair.”

Silence. You can’t bring yourself to look at Jungkook, now standing beside you, both of you staring at some distant ornament, avoiding each other’s gaze.

“What are you doing out here this early?” he asks, as if it’s not obvious.

“Thought I’d get some fresh air.”

There’s no humour in your tone, just defeat, and those few words seem to sap the last bit of energy you have. You feel like you’ve had the same effect on Jungkook—his voice is as dry as yours.

“Funny.”

You know you can’t undo all the damage between you and Jungkook, but still, you want to at least be civil.

“I’m sorry you have to be our instructor. I didn’t know.”

“Sounds like you wouldn’t have booked it if you’d known.”

You shrug. “Probably.”

“Is seeing me again really that unbearable?”

It is.

Of course it is. But only because you can’t bear seeing him having moved on. So you shrug again.

“I see.”

You take the last drag of your cigarette, drop it into the snow, and stomp it out before immediately reaching for another.

“It’s really bad for you.”

“Why do you care, Jungkook?”

“Because you—”

“Please, just let me be, Jungkook.”

It’s desperate, your plea, resigned. And when you finally lock eyes with him, it almost hurts as much as on the day you broke up with him. He looks like he’s stepped straight out of a dream, the smoke from your cigarette swirling up into the sky between you. He’s so beautiful, especially in the morning when he’s just rolled out of bed. But his hurt eyes—hurt that you caused—are something you can’t handle.

“I never did you wrong.”

His words hit like a slap, and you reckon you deserve it, deserve even more, so you let him continue, knowing he’s far from done.

“Why did you leave me?”

You can’t meet his eyes now. Not just because tears burn in the corners of both yours and his, but because you can’t bring yourself to tell him the truth—that you were never worthy of him. That you were never the one for him, not when he’s found someone like Hara, who fits him so much better. So you shrug again, trying to swallow the lump in your throat as your shaky hands lift the cigarette to your lips for another long drag, hoping he’ll think it’s just the cold affecting you, not the emotions welling up inside.

“God, ___.” You see Jungkook look up at the dark sky, rubbing his hands violently against his face and eyes in your peripheral vision. You’re not sure if it’s out of anger, frustration, or pain, and you’re not sure you want to know.

“I’m sorry,” you force out, losing the fight against your tears as they silently roll down your cheeks. Quickly, you turn around, trying to make it back inside before Jungkook notices your breakdown. 

“For leaving me, or for being with me in the first place?”

“Both.”

You don’t stop, can’t stop even if you tried. Bolting straight into the hostel, you leave your book where you placed it earlier, your only aim to escape, to get to your suite as fast as possible. Away from all you’ve done and can’t take back. 

It’s not like it’s really possible for you to get away from Jungkook, not when he’s still not only very much physically present but still consumes every thought and every space in your heart. It breaks you to see his pain, breaks you even more because you don’t know how to fix it. You’ve created a mess, of the whole situation and of your and his heart, that’s impossible to mend now.

Even if you could, the hurt has left wounds and open scars, which won’t ever heal, especially on Jungkook’s soul, and you reckon he’ll never want you back to begin with.

The door to the suite slams shut behind you, waking up Yoongi, who just turns to look at your broken self, tears still running down in waves.

“Talked to Jungkook?”

“Yes,” you sob.

“Next time, try at daytime, it’s not as emo.”

Well, thank you very much. As if that would have changed a thing. But you don’t bicker this time, knowing that somewhere in Yoongi’s words lies the truth, even if you’re not able to accept it in this moment.

Kicking off his boots and yeeting them across the room where he placed them before you took them, and letting your coat fall off your shoulders, you don’t pay attention to Yoongi’s scolding, disappearing into the bathroom to take a cleansing shower, or rather, to let all the emotions and tears out without being bothered and without being a bother to Yoongi.

It doesn’t take long before the hot water mixes with your tears and for you recognise that you need to somehow get your head straight, or get it checked, because it’s only the second day. A lot more is to come, and you’ll be regretting it if you just wave the white flag and leave. If there’s nothing else you can do, nothing that can help you heal and move on, you want to at least help Jungkook to do so.

You owe it to him, and frankly, that was the main point of why you broke up in the first place. You’ll need to forget your own hurt for the time being, answer all his questions without breaking down again, and you’ll start with that as soon as you’re out of the shower.

“Hurry up! I need to take a piss!”

You’re glad you had half a mind to lock the door, but still, the banging of Yoongi’s fist disturbs you so much, you won’t be able to neither cry nor think in peace.

“Ten more minutes!”

“I’ll piss on your pillow! Open the fucking door!”

Ew. Sighing, you rinse the rest of your shampoo out, hurrying to at least wrap a towel around yourself before unlocking the door. You’re not able to push the handle down because Yoongi bolts inside, ripping his pants down and immediately starting to empty his bladder.

“Ew, gross!”

“Next time, your pillow, ___,” Yoongi sighs, but you’ve already fled the scene. As relatives, you’re close, yes, but not that close.

Nonetheless, you’re thankful for this distraction, even if it just helped you not be dragged further into the blue.

Hearing Yoongi close and lock the bathroom door and turning on the shower does the rest as you now stand fully dressed, with dripping wet hair, in the middle of the suite.

You know there’s no way he’ll open that door back up again, even if you’d knock as violently as he did just now. He simply doesn’t give a fuck. So you see no other option but to get some breakfast with wet hair, knowing there’s not much time left before you’re back on the slopes, or rather the beginner’s hill.

The corridor is empty again, though you hear some chatter from Namjoon and Jungkook down the way. Taking a very deep breath, you try to school your face into happiness, or at least neutrality.

You find both with Jimin in the dining area, the latter unpacking his bread and some pastries onto the table.

“Good morning,” you try to sound as cheerful as possible, but as you lock eyes with Jungkook, you know he notices the red rim around your eyes.

“Hey! Look what I’ve got for you.” Jimin practically explodes with happiness as he gets a see-through box of macarons out of his paper bag.

“No way! Jimin, that wasn’t necessary! Thank you!” You can’t help the genuine smile that spreads across your face, hands eagerly grabbing for them as you unbox them against your stomach, too occupied to even sit down.

“But I wanted to. I’ve never seen someone so obsessed with these.” Jimin laughs his beautiful laugh at your already stuffed smile, as Namjoon just smirks, and Jungkook, well…Jungkook just seems odd.

“Here, at least sit down.” Namjoon offers you the chair beside him, and to be honest, you’d much rather sit somewhere else than face Jungkook, but there’s nothing you can do.

You don’t thank Namjoon this time when he pushes the chair for you to sit down, too embarrassed by your chewing. You shouldn’t have put two macarons in your mouth at once.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Jungkook stays silent throughout it all, just watching you, especially watching Namjoon carefully, while you avoid eye contact. Jimin, on the other hand, can’t keep his eyes from flickering between you and Jungkook with a broad smile, as if he senses something’s wrong. He takes the last empty chair at the small table and sits between you and Jungkook.

“Black, so you’re not overdosed.” Namjoon places your coffee in front of you as his eyes also flick to Jungkook, and you’re not sure what’s happening right now.

“Hold up, hold up, I’ve got my favourite with me. Just for you, ___. You liked it the first time, right?” Jimin pulls out a cup of iced Americano from his bag, this time in a fitting container, but you can’t seem to understand why he’d bring you this when, despite you loving it, it hurts you just as much and he knows it. 

“You know,” Jimin continues with a glint in his eyes that not only makes you uneasy, but clearly Jungkook as well, the latter looking two seconds away from punching Jimin square in the face. “It’s called ‘Only Love’. Right, C? You created it.”

Ah, that makes a lot of sense now. What doesn’t make sense is you choking on the macaron. You should have put two and two together, to be honest, should have seen the connection the moment Jungkook appeared in front of you with everyone in this forsaken town being friends with him, but frankly, you didn’t.

You haven’t been thinking clearly for years, and you reckon it has something to do with Yoongi, who, even though he’s the only constant in your life now, is equal parts disturbing and unable to help you balance your emotions. Not that it’s his job, but being a bit less insufferable would be nice and a welcome change.

Jimin’s still holding the cup towards you, for longer than would feel just friendly, but now you see all the evil clearly. You don’t really know what to do, especially when you look at Jungkook and see him more pissed than you’ve ever seen before. Should you even take it?

“I… I think I’ll stick to black. Not that I really overdose on sugar or anything.” You stammer, wanting the earth to swallow you up rather than this shit morning continuing into a day full of hatred towards you.

Jungkook just scoffs at that, and you’re sure you hear him mutter “of fucking course, perfect timing” just as Yoongi enters the dining room.

“Morning,” Yoongi mumbles, and right as he’s about to sit at another table, Jimin places the Americano in front of you and gets up.

“No, please, sit down. I was just about to leave.”

Jungkook attempts to call Jimin out on his bullshit, but shuts his mouth in an instant when Yoongi claps Jimin on the back and sits down between you both. Turning to Namjoon, he’s still very much smirking as if he’s figured out the whole situation with you and Jungkook, especially when both his legs nudge yours and his, as if daring you both to say something.

“Bye!” Jimin sings as he’s out of the room before anyone can even breathe.

“You forgot your phone in our room.” Yoongi grumbles, stealing some macarons from you as if they were M&M’s, and preparing his plate. “A coffee please.”

“Black?” Namjoon’s grin spreads across his whole face as he gets up to fetch Yoongi’s order, because, dear lord, it wasn’t a kindly meant request.

“You got it.”

As if the morning hadn’t already strangled your emotions enough, your blood’s now boiling because Yoongi couldn’t just bring your stupid phone with him as if that would have been the greatest task in the world. But somehow, seeing Jungkook’s mood crash even more, you’re glad to have a moment to escape the scene, hoping that when you return, it won’t be with police tape around the place.

You don’t have the faintest idea what’s up with him. It’s not like he’s just mad at you—although you know he definitely is. Hell, you’d be mad at yourself if you were him. But something else must’ve happened, something that’s got him this wound up, not only at the sight of you and Yoongi, but his friends too.

It’s no surprise to find your phone where Yoongi said it would be, and seeing it now, face down, you’re beyond thankful he didn’t just hand it to you in front of everyone.

You just want to grab it quickly and shove it into the tight pocket of your leggings, thinking it’s lying on the info sheet from Namjoon, when Yoongi’s handwriting catches your attention. Black ink, neatly written down for all time:

‘Future’s gonna be okay.’

It soothes and breaks your heart all at once, especially when you spot a teeny tiny black heart too. Yoongi might argue it’s just a splatter from the pen, but you know better. Being close to your cousin is a rollercoaster in every imaginable way, but it’s worth it. Because he cares. Because he’ll understand, even if he doesn’t always show it the way you need.

Taking a very, very deep, steadying breath, you leave the note where it is, knowing you’ll definitely need it when you come back tonight, after what will surely be a wonderful day with Jungkook. You just hope you survive it.

Snowboarding doesn’t even scare you as much as Jungkook does. But you steel yourself not to panic, not to freak out about how clueless you are. Time will tell. Future’s gonna be okay.

And with that thought, you head back to the others, wanting something more substantial in your stomach than sugary sweets.

“Odd?”

“Yeah, odd,” Jungkook growls, and you stop short before entering the room again.

“I think I’m treating her just right for who she is to me,” Yoongi laughs, and you can hear the mischief in his voice, full of shit and in full wind-up mode.

There’s no way you’re really letting this turn into a crime scene, so you march into the room, eyes boring into the back of Yoongi’s head, knowing he’ll feel it.

Thankfully, no one says anything, but the looks speak volumes. Jungkook’s glaring daggers at you, Namjoon’s got that worried, torn look like a parent watching their toddler near the stairs, and Yoongi’s just…amused.

Frankly, your appetite’s vanished, and you don’t want to risk sitting down and getting dragged into whatever mess you’re missing today.

“When do we leave?” You ask Jungkook directly, using a tired, fed-up tone you haven’t dared yet.

It seems to do the trick, sobering everyone up as they take their last bites and gulps of coffee, getting ready to move.

Namjoon, ever the sweetheart, hands you the americano, and this time, you’re grateful for it. Screw the memories—you need caffeine to get through this day. A shot of something stronger in it might’ve been better, but alas.

“Thanks, Joon.”

That, of course, earns you a dirty look from Jungkook and an amused one from Yoongi.

“I’ll just grab my stuff real quick.”

���Yeah, we’re waiting in our slippers,” Yoongi says drily, overtaking Jungkook by the door, who looks at you like he can’t believe this is happening.

You ignore them both, turning to Namjoon to escape the drama, but only stumble into another one instead.

“So he’s your ex.”

You groan, shoulders slumping along with your coffee, exasperated as you realise Namjoon’s got you alone.

“Kinda obvious.”

“It is. Some other things are obvious too.”

You give him a long stare, the kind of stare you’ve perfected from hours of silent contests with Jungkook, but Namjoon, who’s obviously used to this too, isn’t fazed the slightest.

“Spill.”

“You’re both adults. Talk.”

Yeah, like it’s that simple. Sit down, have a rational, level-headed chat with Jungkook? Not likely.

“Thanks for breakfast. I’m out.”

You throw a peace sign over your shoulder, knowing you’re not getting anything more out of him, whether he’s right or wrong.

Being civil with Jungkook would be step one before you could even dream of a productive conversation. But based on how this breakfast is going, hell, the whole stay up until now, it’s clear that ‘civil’ is something you’ll never be when it comes to Jungkook. 

“Here.” Yoongi’s brought you your boots and gear, and the reason is instantly clear when Jungkook reappears, glaring at Yoongi like he’s about to snap.

“Could you both please be civil? I’d like to enjoy this holiday,” you snap, so utterly fed up, wishing you could put them both in time-out.

“Sorry,” Yoongi and Jungkook mumble in unison, but the looks they exchange right after make the apology feel pointless.

Even though you’re still struggling way more than you should with these snowboard boots—which surely came straight out of hell just to make your life that little bit more difficult—you still don’t let anyone help you. Not Jungkook, who stopped moving towards you after you shot him an evil glare, and not Yoongi, who suffered the same fate.

Eventually, you manage, somehow. And when you’re ready to go, the three of you grab your snowboards, which are leaning against the wall near the fireplace. It’s not easy to carry yours on your own, especially when the sharp edge cuts into your gloved palm and your other hand is occupied with your Americano. The bindings are digging into your forearm with their stupid weight distribution, but there’s no way you’re going to drag it any other way. Not when you’re not willing to sacrifice your caffeine—that’s just not happening in any lifetime of yours.

Yoongi, for once, is chivalrous enough to open the door for you, but you can’t really appreciate it like you would under normal circumstances. Your nerves are running thin—so thin you’re half-tempted to just smash the chime to dust with your snowboard to shut it up yourself. But you’re not strong enough, and with your luck, Jungkook—who’s walking right behind you—would probably end up on the receiving end of your terrible aim.

No one says a word during the entire walk to the hill, which, now that you think about it, feels worse than all the snide remarks. It’s not like fighting—or going straight for each other’s throats—is the best solution, but this simmering tension isn’t much better either. And you reckon it’s only a matter of time before someone goes off like a bloody nuclear bomb.

Though the real question is, who?

You’d love nothing more than to get inside Jungkook’s head, to take a peek at whatever thoughts are running through his pretty head and figure out why he’s been acting like this—irrational around others, but all sentimental when it’s just the two of you. It’s starting to seriously grate on your nerves.

Seeing that he wants to talk about everything that went down between you both is something you never thought would happen. But his approach? Not ideal. There’s no way you’re having a deep conversation with him before the day has even properly started, and definitely not in the middle of the street. And you’d much rather not have this conversation with others around too, thank you very much.

But the thing is, you’re still not sure if you want to be alone with him. What if your resolve to be all mature and talk like adults crumbles the second he looks at you with those sad eyes again? What if he’s just looking for answers so he can have the closure you know you’ll never get?

The thought feels selfish in every possible way. It disgusts you too, but you’re only human, not some robot who can function without feeling, without knowing what love or losing it is.

You let out a loud sigh, no longer able to bear the weight of the world—or the burning gaze of Jungkook boring into your back. 

“S’up?” Yoongi nudges you causing you to sway, the heavy drag of your boots not helping either. 

“Just enjoying the fresh air.” You bullshit, stepping right up the snow at the base of the beginners hill. 

“The only thing getting fresh air are my middle ears. Fucking feel the inflammation building.”

You’re sure Jungkook hadn’t intended to snort at Yoongi’s remark, but even he can’t seem to resist the humour in the nonsense that sometimes escapes Yoongi’s mouth.

“Some air gonna knock you out?” you tease, trying to nudge Yoongi back, though you fail miserably.

Thankfully, Jungkook’s quick enough to steady you with a free hand before you face-plant into the snow, which is far from the fluffy stuff it was yesterday—now hard as stone.

“You know you’re old when air’s hurting you, ___. You’ll understand when you’re my age.”

You hope that‘ll not be true. 

“Alright,” Jungkook claps once, and you and Yoongi fall into line in front of him after setting your boards and coffee aside. “Yesterday we covered most of the snowboarding theory. Three important things. What are they?”

Silence.

“Awareness, balance, control.”

It’s clear Jungkook’s waiting for something, and after a few agonising moments of just staring at each other, it clicks. He wants you to repeat what he said.

“Awareness,” you start, but Yoongi either hasn’t caught on or really doesn’t care, but you give him a nudge, and eventually, the two of you echo back Jungkook’s words.

“Awareness, balance, control.”

“Right, now, while we’re at it—let’s talk a bit more theory. After awareness, balance, and control, it’s all about anticipation. You can’t just react to things at the last minute, yeah? You’ve got to anticipate the changes. Know what’s coming. Whether it’s an obstacle in your path, a turn, or… someone doing something you didn’t expect.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jungkook! Man up and say it to my face if you’ve got something to say!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Fuck you did! And you—shut your fucking mouth!” You jab your gloved finger at Yoongi, who stops laughing immediately.

You’re not sure what’s gotten into Jungkook to act so irrational again, but whatever it is, you’ve had enough. Either he stays professional during the lesson, or you’re out. This kind of treatment—whatever you did to him or not—isn’t something you’ll tolerate. Not from him, not from anyone.

Jungkook seems to realise his mistake, or maybe he just doesn’t have the guts to confront you directly about what’s been bothering him. You reckon after all these years, he still hasn’t learned how to communicate properly. Then again, you’re not exactly great at that either.

“How about you stick to teaching during the course and stay in your lane? How about I can at least enjoy this for a few hours?”

Jungkook just nods, not the least approving, and if it weren’t for Yoongi placing a hand on your heaving shoulder and sucking his teeth, you might’ve lunged at Jungkook and strangled him right then and there.

“Right, well, before we get onto the boards, we need to warm up. Can’t have you both pulling muscles before you even touch the snow properly.”

“Please, no running,” Yoongi mutters under his breath.

“No, no running. First up, let’s stretch. Loosen up those muscles. Very important. Otherwise, you might… strain yourself. And trust me, some people,” he side-eyes you, “have a habit of rushing into things without getting properly prepared or listening to what the other person has to say.”

You grit your teeth. Oh, you’re so ready to kill him. If looks could kill, both you and Jungkook would be dead by now. “What the fuck is your problem?” you seethe dangerously low. 

“So, what are we doing first? Jumping jacks? Star jumps?” Yoongi asks sarcastically, more to defuse the situation than out of any real interest in actually participating in this course.

“No, mate. We’re not at boot camp. Just a simple warm-up to start. Arms, legs, get the blood flowing.” Jungkook begins rolling his shoulders and doing some arm circles. “Follow me. Arms out, nice and wide. Slow circles. Loosen up your shoulders. You need a good range of movement, especially when you’re… navigating tricky situations.”

You and Yoongi do your best to follow along, despite the thick jackets. Opting to be the bigger person here, you do your best to ignore Jungkook’s pointed glances and the occasional gust of cold air grazing your stomach whenever you raise your arms too high.

“Good. Now, bend forward, touch your toes—well, try to. Don’t force it. Some people are naturally more flexible than others, but hey, no rush.”

Throughout the whole stretching exercises, you keep your mouth shut, knowing that playing into his madness wouldn’t do either of you any good. You just can’t process it all at this point. And how could you?

Since the moment you stepped foot into this stupid little town, you haven’t had a minute to think. Especially not after Jungkook entered your life again. You’re jealous of all the people out there who can adapt to every moment, who aren’t as utterly pathetic at handling things as you are.

It must be genetics, because, dear lord, you’ve never been good at handling tricky situations, but the ones involving your ex are on another level. You can tell yourself to be cool and collected as much as you want, but at the end of the day, Jungkook will always trigger you.

And if it’s not with his passive-aggressive remarks, it’s with his broken sadness.

“Perfect. Let’s move on then. Before we get into the snowboards, I’ll just have to adjust your bindings real quick, and then we’ll start. For that, I’ll need to see which foot of yours is the dominant one.”

Jungkook walks silently behind you both, looking down at the snow with a slight frown on his lips while you follow his movements with your eyes.

“I’ll start with you, Yoongi. Relax your stance, I’ll push you from behind. Don’t think too much, just catch yourself, yeah?”

Jungkook’s now standing directly behind Yoongi, and as he raises his hand and places it on Yoongi’s back, right between his shoulder blades, your gut twists, fearing Jungkook might push him too hard, letting his anger out because he can’t restrain himself.

But to your relief, Jungkook pushes Yoongi ever so lightly, causing the older man to take a step forward, landing on his right foot.

“Right foot back, your stance is regular.” Jungkook just nods to himself, moving on to stand behind you now. “Your turn, ___. Again, just relax, don’t overthink it. I’ll push you now.”

How can you stay relaxed when Jungkook’s now directly behind you, when you not only feel the weight of his hand on your back but imagine you can feel the warmth of it too? It nearly leaves you gasping, not used to Jungkook touching you anymore.

“Relax,” Jungkook mutters ever so softly, causing your shoulders to drop as you take a deep breath, willing yourself to block him out as best you can.

The push is gentle, and while you take a step forward out of reflex, it’s the same reflex that misses his hand on your back.

“Left is your dominant foot, so goofy’s your stance.”

“Goofy?!”

It sounds offensive. Does it sound offensive? Because both Yoongi and Jungkook look at you, puzzled by your outburst.

Wasn’t that another jab?

“Yeah, it’s called goofy,” Jungkook says, Yoongi nodding as if to tell you to calm down.

“Oh. Okay.”

Jungkook pulls a tiny toolbox from the inner pocket of his jacket while you follow Yoongi, who’s picking up his board. He takes Yoongi’s snowboard first, placing it on his bent knee and unscrewing the first binding.

“Forefoot 18 degrees, back foot 7 degrees,” Yoongi mutters, not the least bit mocking. 

You’re not sure why Yoongi has a preference, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to question it, just nodding and adjusting Yoongi’s bindings to his liking.

When it’s your turn, Jungkook still doesn’t say anything as he takes the board from your hands, and while the adjustments look just the same as Yoongi’s to you, it’s clear both men see the difference as Yoongi interjects, “Fix the left one a bit more outwards, it’ll give her more control.”

Jungkook looks up at that, not angered, not ready to snap, as his eyes flit briefly to you before he eventually just nods and does as Yoongi suggested. Maybe not playing into Jungkook’s remarks earlier was the right course of action, seeing that even though it’s still awkward between you three, it’s more civil than it was before.

Jungkook stuffs his toolbox back into his pocket and turns to grab his own snowboard. As he straps his right foot into the binding, he calls out, “Fasten your front foot onto the board. We’re practising gliding.”

Yoongi does as instructed without a hitch, but you’re struggling a bit. The straps keep getting in the way, making it impossible to secure your foot properly.

Without a word, Jungkook hops over, dragging his board behind him, and quickly fastens the bindings for you.

“Thanks,” you mutter, but he doesn’t meet your eyes, just nods before heading back in front of you both.

“So, it’s simple. Push yourself forward with your free foot, step on the board, and glide for as long as you can. It’ll help you get a feel for the board. And remember—where you look is where you go. Look down, you’ll fall. Look forward, and you’ll be fine as long as your balance is decent.”

Jungkook demonstrates the glide with ease, while Yoongi follows suit right after, looking like he’s done this before, making it seem like a breeze. 

Alright, how hard can it be?

Turns out, pretty damn hard. As soon as you try, your arms flail like mad, desperately trying to regain balance. You stumble forward, managing to catch yourself at the last second, but not before the board lifts off the ground and slams right into your calf.

“Ouch!”

It hurts like hell, and you’re certain a bruise is already forming.

“Take it slow, no rush,” Jungkook says, not even glancing back.

You try a few more times, and while it feels like you’re going to lose a leg by the end of the day, you’re slowly getting the hang of it.

Yoongi’s already finished, standing beside Jungkook and watching you like some proud parent their child who’s learning to swim. You don’t mind though—better that than getting frustrated watching him nail everything effortlessly.

“That’s great, let’s move up the hill and practise side slipping. It’s like a lazy way to snowboard, but it’s useful.”

Dragging yourself up the hill feels like a workout in itself with your board still clasped onto your foot, your calf still throbbing from earlier.

“First things first,” Jungkook’s bending down to his board, “strap your other foot in as well. You want to be on your heel edge or your toe edge. We’ll start with heels, ‘cause if you start on your toes and mess up, you’ll just end up pissed off.”

Once again, Jungkook demonstrates the technique, and once again, Yoongi seems to pick it up straight away. Meanwhile, you’re down on your ass every other minute, frustration building but refusing to quit just yet. Jungkook lets you keep at it until you’ve finally got the hang of it, while Yoongi again just stands there with him, chatting the day away, apparently needing no extra practice.

“Why doesn’t he have to practise?” you yell down the hill.

“Because he doesn’t need to.”

You’re fuming, but deep down you know Jungkook’s right. Still, Yoongi’s supposed to be doing this with you, not just standing there like a supervisor. The anger helps though, because as you slide down the hill again, it’s smooth and controlled—and you feel damn proud of yourself.

“Alright, next exercise. We’re going to slide down on your toe edge now. Flip over so you’re facing up the hill, with your toes digging into the snow.”

You’re already panting from the climb back up the hill, but there’s no rest in sight. Jungkook leaves his board behind as you drag yourself up again, determined to finish this.

“Now,” Jungkook says, “bend your knees, lean forward slightly—like you’re bowing to a king. Lift your heels off the snow, so you’re balanced on your toes. And don’t panic if it feels weird at first. Yoongi, can you please demonstrate?”

“Sure,” Yoongi says, nailing the move effortlessly.

You can’t figure out why Yoongi’s suddenly Jungkook’s little helper, or why Jungkook’s board is still down the hill, but you focus on trying to imitate Yoongi’s technique. You get into position, dig your toes in, but the next second, you slip, barely catching yourself before faceplanting into the snow.

Jungkook’s by your side in seconds, pulling you up by the arms. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you pant, swallowing the panic that’s rising in your chest. But your grip on his arms gives away just how terrified you are.

“Come on, I’ll help you.”

Jungkook’s hands slide down your arms until he’s holding your hands securely, but just as quickly, he lets go. You immediately lose your balance, nearly falling backwards as your whole life flashes before your eyes.

“Shit!” His hands grab you at the last second, keeping you from toppling over.

“Don’t just let go like that!”

“Why are your gloves this wet?”

You don’t have time to defend yourself against Jungkook’s scolding as he abruptly forces his leg between yours, angling his heel between the snow and your board to keep you in place and balance. 

The proximity to Jungkook has an instant effect on you. Your brain shuts down, and though your blood is rushing through your veins at an overwhelming speed, it somehow calms you down just the same.

Being this close to him, not only seeing him but feeling all of his body pressed against yours, mixed with his intoxicating scent, makes you never want to let go of him again.

“Hold onto me,” he murmurs softly, the closeness making it unnecessary to speak any louder than a breath.

You can’t help yourself, staring at his face, even though he’s avoiding eye contact as he removes your gloves, letting them fall silently behind him. You reckon he hasn’t changed much—just a few piercings and some faint lines caused by age now marking his otherwise mesmerising face. But still, he’s the same.

The same lashes framing his big eyes, the same kissable lips now a bit cracked from the cold, the same glowing skin with that faint scar on his cheek.

It throws you back in time but also makes you ache for all the time spent apart. It’s impossible to feel resentment for the harsh things he’s said, impossible to feel anything but the deep love you still have for him. It’s impossible to look away, even though he isn’t meeting your gaze, busy tugging off his gloves with his teeth.

When his hand reaches for yours, wrapping them in the warmth of his own gloves, you feel like you might break right then and there. You’ve been a fool for pushing him away, for ending things in the first place, when he’s always been this good to you—even now, after all these years.

When Jungkook finally finishes and his eyes meet yours for the first time, you don’t dare breathe, even if you physically could. It’s like the heartbreak never happened, healed by the closeness of two hearts that know they can only beat as one.

You see it in his eyes, like you always could back then, that he feels it too—or at least something close to what you feel.

“I never meant to hurt you,” you manage to say, your voice breaking ever so faintly, with a slight sheen of tears coating your eyes.

“I know,” Jungkook smiles ever so softly, as if he’s always known, as if he understands. But still, he steps back, leaving you cold and longing again, only holding your hands just firmly enough to help you keep your balance. “Try again, toes in the snow, knees bent.”

You swallow the hurt down, knowing you’ve got no right to feel this way, and with Jungkook’s help, you slide down the hill. You succeed, but as soon as you reach the base, Jungkook steps back completely, walking over to Yoongi while instructing, “Try again now on your own.”

And you do. Multiple times until you master it as best you can, all while you know you’re being watched by the two most important men in your life.

Lunch is spent in a tiny fast-food restaurant nearby, just because you’re so hungry you can’t wait ages for a proper meal. Jungkook excuses himself to take a phone call, and you notice a picture of Hara on his screen, though you weren’t fast enough to see whose name was at the top, or if it’s his lock screen or Hara’s contact picture.

“Why are you so good at snowboarding?” you try to sound angry, though your mouth is stuffed, hoping Yoongi can still make sense of the words.

“I’ve been snowboarding before.”

“You what?” You swallow the bite forcefully, needing space to articulate the insults he deserves. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why am I paying for a crash course for you?”

“I didn’t thi—”

“Why the fuck have I paid for and rented your gear?!”

Yoongi goes silent, eating his meal like he’s bored, giving you time to yell at him some more before he speaks. But you don’t, just widen your eyes and shake your head to emphasise how livid you are.

“I didn’t think you’d want to come alone.”

“That’s such a shit excuse, Yoongs. You should have at least paid for yourself. Fucking parasite.”

“Yo, show some respect. You said you’d pay for everything. It’s not like I forced you.”

“Forced me?! You wouldn’t have come otherwise!”

“I can still hang in our suite and leave you alone with Mr. Leaf-in-the-wind.”

“That’s rude.”

“It’s true, and you know it.”

He’s kinda right. But you can see where Jungkook’s coming from, somehow understand why he’s acting the way he does.

You sigh at that, leaning back with another mouthful of food, knowing you should really work on your manners. “You’re not leaving me alone with him. No way.”

“If you say so.”

You startle slightly when Jungkook slides into the seat beside you, hoping he didn’t catch any of what was said while he was gone. And even though you’re dying to know who was calling, you’d rather strip bare in the middle of the restaurant than ask, not wanting to look like some jealous, controlling ex-girlfriend.

“Hara called,” you fucking knew it. “Said Namjoon’s arranged dinner at Jin’s.”

You and Yoongi just hum, though you reckon you’re the only one finding it rude. But who can blame you? You are jealous, you are a fucking control freak, and Jungkook looking the way he does definitely doesn’t help.

You hadn’t noticed before, thanks to his oversized clothes, just how buff he’s become. But seeing him now, his upper body hugged by thermal gear so tight it might as well be see-through, makes you even pettier than you already were at the mention of Hara. And how could you not be?

Clearly, he’s been working out more since you split. Maybe you were holding him back from getting in shape too. It’s funny—you always thought Jungkook peaked while he was with you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You force the rest of your meal down in silence, occasionally glancing up at Jungkook and Yoongi, who are doing the same. It’s not like you want this silence to linger, but you don’t know what to say, and neither do they.

It’s slightly bothering you that both men were comfortable enough to chat the whole morning away while you were busy trying not to face-plant into the snow, and now can’t seem to say a single word with you around. Maybe you were the problem all along. 

Ugh, you hate having those thoughts again, especially since you’ve made such progress with your self-esteem recently, and now it’s crashing back down, spiralling like something you can’t escape.

When everyone’s finally finished, you pack up your things and step back outside into the cold, hoping the rest of the day goes by as civilly as the last few hours have been. 

Hours later, you’re spent. So utterly spent you’re sure you won’t make it to Jin’s without falling asleep midway through. Like Snow White, you want to lie down and sleep, and for no one to kiss you awake. Though, if you think about it, Jungkook would make a formidable prince.

Stop. You can’t think like this, you won’t allow such homewrecker thoughts. Not when things went well after lunch and there’s hope you can talk shit out.

After finally managing to learn how to take turns on that snowboard straight out of hell, and now being able to proudly say you can get down the beginners’ hill without breaking a single bone, you feel more accomplished than you ever have. Still, you hate snowboarding, and still won’t be doing it again once the two weeks are up.

“Why aren’t we eating at the hostel?”

You didn’t mean to say it out loud, not with Namjoon walking right beside you, and it might come off as though you’re calling him out for saying he’d be your chef during the trip, but hasn’t cooked a single thing for you yet. Namjoon’s blush only deepens your regret, though he takes it in stride.

“Well…uhm…I just thought that—”

“He can’t cook to save his life.” Jungkook interrupts Namjoon’s clear attempt to save face, and you’d never expected to see such a smug look on Jungkook’s face while throwing his friend under the bus.

“Oh, that’s cute. Plenty of women like to cook for their man.” You nudge Namjoon, hoping it’ll ease the tension just a little.

“Ah, I don’t know about that.”

“Did you watch the game?” Jungkook asks, louder than necessary, slowing his pace so he falls in beside Namjoon, forcing you to step aside to avoid colliding with his stupid back. 

The glare he sends your way matches your own, and you’re sure you can read in his eyes that he wants you to back off from his friend. You barely register what Namjoon and Yoongi are talking about, something vivid about an epic basketball game, too caught up in a silent conversation with Jungkook about what his problem is—and yours. But it’s like you’re out of sync, all questions missed, and answers elusive throughout the whole short walk to Jin’s. 

You hadn’t expected Jin’s to be such a lavish restaurant. Despite having the same rustic feel as the rest of the town, there’s a touch of poshness that makes it more enchanting than any other place you’ve been.

Jungkook wastes no time after stepping inside behind you, passing you to get to the bar where Hara and Hope are perched. Sadly, or maybe thankfully, you don’t see how he greets them, as a man steps into your view, broad shoulders blocking everything else.

“Welcome! I’m Jin! You must be ___.”

Jin practically squeezes you to death with his hug, your sore muscles protesting at how tight he holds you. You can’t hold back your laugh, not only because his greeting is the warmest you’ve ever received, but because you know the moment he lets go of you, he’ll do the same to Yoongi.

“Thanks for having us, Jin,” you squeak, tapping his back in hopes it’ll make him release you.

“Oh please, I’m so thrilled to finally meet you both.” Jin beams down at you before turning to throw himself at Yoongi, just as you predicted. “Yoongi, hi!”

“Please let go of me.” But Jin doesn’t listen, and you think he squeezes your grumpy cousin even tighter than before until he finally lets him go too.

“I’ve prepared a whole course for you three. I know Jungkook can be a bit demanding with his food, so I’ll make sure you’re well fed.”

Jin guides you to a table near the bar, and like the little control freak you are, you opt for the chair that gives you a view of the whole restaurant, including the bar. You don’t have a great view of Jungkook and Hara, though, as Namjoon is standing perfectly in front of them, but you think you see Hara leaning against Jungkook.

It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, twisting the knife of jealousy oh-so-slowly in your gut. You’re not sure how Jungkook could have found someone new so quickly, especially after telling you over and over again that you were the love of his life. Maybe it was just heartbreak that drove him to find solace in someone else. Maybe it’s just a hungry heart wanting to be fed with a fraction of love.

But you don’t want to assume that Hara’s love for him can’t compete with yours. Even though a part of you is certain that what you felt—and still feel—for him is beyond anything humanly possible. And even if her love for him is pure, yours will always outshine hers. Or maybe that’s just the green-eyed monster talking, infecting your thoughts.

But so be it. There’s nothing left to lose after you lost Jungkook, after you lost yourself, not just during your relationship with him, but in so much more.

Jin takes your drink order, and while at first you thought a Diet Coke would be nice after today, you opt for a whole bottle of wine. Not to share. Oh no, it’s entirely for yourself, because if you’re going to spend the evening witnessing Jungkook with his new flame, you’re definitely not doing it sober.

“You look jealous.”

“You don’t say.”

“Talk to him.”

“About what, Yoongs?” you snap as quietly as possible, fingers digging into the tablecloth to stop yourself from losing it. “How he’s fucking that model? Or how easy it was for him to move on?”

“That would be a start.”

“You’re ridiculous. Now shut up, they’re coming over.”

It’s not like you want to stare, but seeing Jungkook so at ease with Hara makes your stomach turn. And why Yoongi had to sit opposite you, leaving no other option but for Hara and Jungkook to sit on either side of you, is something you’ll never forgive him for.

“Hey!” Hara greets you both so warmly that you regret bashing her in your thoughts. Even if she’s Jungkook’s girlfriend, she’s always been nice to you.

“Hey, how have you been?”

Jin takes this moment to bring over a tray full of drinks. Yoongi has a beer, Hara a glass of water like Jungkook—yuck—and he sets the whole bottle of wine with a fitting glass in front of you. You should feel embarrassed, but you really don’t.

“You want some too?” you ask Hara out of politeness, knowing Jungkook never drinks during the week, as you pour yourself a generous first glass of your survival drink, wanting nothing more than to down it all before dinner starts.

“Oh no, thank you! I’m pregnant.”

The bottle’s still in your hand, but the glass is already at your lips with a hearty sip in your mouth, which you promptly snort back into the glass. You’re not sure if the tears springing to your eyes are just from the wine burning your sinuses and uncontrollably coughs or from your heart crumbling into dust at this revelation.

Jungkook—bless the tiny space you still occupy in his heart—is at your side in seconds, helping you recover from the near-death experience, but his touch feels scolding now.

Scolding in a way that makes you think back to all the times he said he wanted to be a dad, to all the times he fucked you raw and let his kink give you the best orgasms of your life. And eventually, you have to force yourself not to picture it—how he found all of that with Hara.

“Congratulations!” you manage to force out after everyone’s back in their seats and a bit of quiet has settled.

“Thank you! We’re all so happy, right?” Hara caresses her stomach, beaming at Jungkook, who looks just as thrilled as she does.

“Yeah! It’s going to have a wonderful mother.”

“Duh.” She laughs, sipping her water while you drown your glass, smiling and nodding as if you couldn’t agree more.

You don’t recall much of the conversations during dinner, don’t remember the sweet lies you told to hide how broken you are. But when Jungkook and Hara disappear into the kitchen after the meal, you grab Yoongi from his chair and drag him towards the door.

“Bye! Thanks for dinner!” you call to Namjoon and Hope, who look confused, but you’re too tipsy to care. Too tipsy to make out what Jin says to you as he rushes out of the kitchen, while you stumble outside.

“What was that?” Yoongi pulls his arm out of your grasp, hating it when you’re like this.

But you can’t hold it together anymore, alcohol always making you sad, emotional, and sentimental. Maybe it was the last straw—time to let Jungkook go, though him being so wound up this morning still nags at your mind.

“I’ve changed my mind.” You start walking towards the hostel, hearing Yoongi following, the snow crunching under your feet. “You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Yes, you are. You need to end this limbo once and for all.

“I need answers, and I won’t get any if I’m not alone with Jungkook.”

Day 3

Maybe opting to spend the day alone with Jungkook wasn’t the best idea you’ve had. Not that it isn’t necessary to finally get the answers that have been piling up, but you’re not sure how to ask him without it turning into an interrogation.

Facing Jungkook first thing this morning would’ve been too much too, especially since you’ve barely had time to process the pregnancy bomb Hara dropped on you. So, sneaking out of the hostel it is.

You regret not stopping by Hope’s to grab your winter boots, but with no other option, you head out in full snowboarding gear, aiming to grab breakfast at Jimin’s.

What you didn’t expect was to spot Hara in the pastry shop as you stand outside, staring longingly at the treats like a starving kid. You can’t face her right now, so you quickly turn and decide to head anywhere else but here or the hostel, hoping there’s another bakery somewhere in town.

But of course, in your bulky snowboarding gear, you’re not exactly inconspicuous, looking more like an oversized ball of dark fabric against the snow. Naturally, Jimin spots you straight away, waving you in like you originally planned.

And of course, Hara notices too, her soft eyes and glowing smile radiating warmth as she waves at you.

Forcing a smile, you head to the entrance and with one deep breath, step into the lion’s den, thinking breakfast spent with Jungkook would have been the better option. 

“Morning, ___!”

“Hey Hara. Jimin.”

You’re still a bit pissed at Jimin for being a little shit yesterday, stirring the pot between you and Jungkook for no reason. But seeing him now, friendly and without the evil glint in his eyes, tempers your anger just a bit.

“The usual?”

“I didn’t know I had one,” you laugh, now standing beside Hara, who’s practically pressed up against the glass display of sweets. It’s kind of cute, and you reckon the pregnancy hormones are hitting her hard, especially this early in the morning.

“I’d die for a coffee,” she mumbles, fogging up the glass and quickly wiping it clear again to not spoil her view.

Jimin’s back is to both of you, already busy with the coffee machine. “I could make you a decaf.”

“No, I read somewhere that decaf isn’t really decaf. And while nursing, caffeine stays in the baby’s system for up to three days. I don’t even want to think about how long it stays in their system when they’re still in the womb.”

“Oh, that’s wild. I didn’t know that.” You’re genuinely shocked by the news, and a little concerned for any women who don’t know either.

“Yeah.” Hara sighs, fogging the glass up again and immediately wiping it clean.

Why Jimin’s not serving Hara first and is making your coffee instead is beyond you, but you don’t say anything. Maybe she can’t decide what to eat just yet, or there’s something she’s avoiding. Either way, you don’t want to end up as the town’s biggest grouch.

“Aren’t you warm?” Hara asks, glancing at you, though her gaze keeps drifting back to the sweets.

“Yeah.” You stammer a little, awkwardly taking off your coat, walking back to the door to hang it up on the rack, which has been bodged together again. You realise quickly that Namjoon or Jimin clearly aren’t cut out for DIY which is definitely a pass.

“Something to eat?”

“Yes,” you and Hara answer in unison, though hers is more of a relieved sigh, making you giggle as you make your way to the table you sat at some days ago.

“What’ll it be then?”

“How about a bit of everything as an apology?” you tease, unable to let his mischief slide like you probably should.

“Touche.”

“What did he do again?” Hara’s now sitting beside you, both of you watching Jimin as he diligently piles treats onto a massive plate. A brief flicker of guilt runs through you as you think about the way you’ve been eating lately, except for that one perfect meal at Jin’s. But you’re only here for a few days, so you might as well make the most of it. There’s no way you’re saying no to all this food, especially when Jimin owes you more than that.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Mhm, sure,” you smirk, crossing your arms as you exchange glances with Hara, who’s clearly curious and ready for some gossip, even if it’s at your expense.

She looks stunning in the soft morning light filtering through the window, her thick black hair falling in loose waves like she’s fresh from a blowout. Maybe it’s just good genes, because her skin is flawless—no makeup, no blemishes, no dark circles.

Maybe, in another life, she could’ve been a friend. But there’s no way you could ever be close to someone who’s got the man you love.

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“What did he do?” Hara’s leaning forward now, elbows on the table, hands framing her perfect face as she eagerly looks between you and Jimin, clearly hooked on your tea. 

“He’s been a little shit, stirring trouble.”

“I just brought you your favourite,” Jimin grins innocently, making his way to the table. But you can clearly see the mischievous glint in his eyes again, and before you know it, he’s setting down the dreaded americano in front of you. Hara’s already grabbed a macaron, barely waiting for the plate to touch the table.

“What’s so bad—” Hara starts,  talking through a mouthful of food in a way only you could relate to, but Jimin cuts her off. 

“She’s his ex.”

Hara’s reaction is immediate—she starts choking on her pastry, and you flash back to last night when you nearly drowned yourself with wine. You’re unsure what to do, hesitating with your hands hovering over her, worried about whether patting a pregnant woman on the back is safe as your panic rises. Luckily, Jimin sprints behind the counter, grabs a bottle of water, and leaps back over to hand it to her.

Thankfully, Hara recovers quickly, and your heart slows down as you see she’s alright.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?!”

That’s…not the reaction you were expecting.

“If you’d just checked the group chat, you’d know.”

“Wait, you have a group chat where you talk about me?!”

“Not important.” Hara waves you off with a hand, though the growing smile on her face makes the gesture anything but rude. She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through missed messages, clearly catching up on something you’re not privy to.

You try to sneak a glance at her screen, but she leans away, blocking your view. Instead, you watch her face as she scrolls—at first, there are little giggles, but soon her expression sours into a full-on pout.

What the hell are they texting about you? Isn’t that illegal or something?

“Why?” she whines, looking at Jimin while your confusion just deepens.

“Dunno. Ask Namjoon.” 

“Namjoon?” The name slips out before you can stop yourself. It doesn’t make any sense for him to be involved in this.

Hara lets out an exasperated sigh, sinking into her seat like she already knows the answer Namjoon would give but is too drained to accept it. “Ugh, no way.”

You clear your throat, hoping to redirect the conversation, though the frustration is building. “Namjoon?”

“Yeah, Namjoon. Now eat before it gets cold.”

“Your pastries are cold,” you shoot back, but Jimin just waves it off.

“See? Now eat.” And with that, he disappears through the door leading to the back, leaving you stewing. You hate him for this—stirring up chaos and then vanishing as if he didn’t cause it in the first place. 

Hara, meanwhile, seems lost in her thoughts, again eating, one hand’s wrapped around a croissant, the other clutches a muffin. How she manages to look like she’s stepped straight out of a commercial is beyond you, and somehow it fits that Jungkook would be with someone like her.

You hesitate, not daring to nudge her. You’ve never spent much time around pregnant women—how fragile are they, really? Better safe than sorry.

“Namjoon?” you ask again, more gently this time.

Her eyes flick up to yours, as if she momentarily forgot where she was. There’s no defensiveness in her gaze, only a soft apology. She places the muffin down and reaches out to touch your arm after wiping it clean on her sweater, her hand gentle and comforting like a mother consoling a child. She’s really going to make a great mum.

“I’m sorry, love. I can’t tell you.”

Surprisingly, it doesn’t make you angry. You should be furious, with how cryptic everyone’s being, and especially with how inconsistent Jungkook’s been treating you lately. But you can see the sincerity in Hara’s face. She really is sorry, and somehow, that makes it harder to be mad. She’s just…lovable in all the ways you’re sure you never could be.

So you just nod, defeated, and finally start eating your breakfast as well. Thinking about all the conversations you could have with Hara right now makes deciding which one you’d actually want to have not that easy. 

Asking about her pregnancy could be a start, maybe how far along she is since she’s not showing yet. It would be a question asked just for the sake of it, to get to know her a bit better. Because quite frankly, even if you checked Jungkook’s or her social media to confirm if he was in town and might be the father of Hara’s child, it wouldn’t really help. The evidence wouldn’t be enough, seeing as he’d apparently be in Hawaii now if you took socials as proof.

Asking her how her relationship with Jungkook is? Not an option. Why would you willingly want to hear anything about their intimacy? Definite no.

Her childhood? Pass.

Her job? Don’t care.

Whether she has pets? Hmm, that would be nice to know. You love animals, regardless of their owner, so that’s where you settle.

This time though, you swallow the bite of food before speaking to Hara, who’s managed to eat half of the huge plate sitting before you both while you were lost in thought. Just as you part your lips, inhaling enough air to ask your first personal question, she freezes mid-bite with a half-eaten cinnamon roll in hand, her eyes wide.

“Oh no…” she breathes, mortified, cradling her stomach as she drops the roll and bolts towards the nearby toilet, gagging.

To your dismay, she doesn’t close the door behind her, and you can hear her throwing up everything she’s eaten so far, which sets off your own stomach. You start gagging too, barely able to stand, hating this reaction you’ve had since childhood whenever someone’s vomiting or even gagging near you.

You need to leave. Now. So you call out a quick “sorry” and “bye” with your hand over your mouth, grab your coat while passing the sad excuse of a fixed coat rack and rush outside. You’re not even fazed by the freezing cold, just relieved to be as far away from the sound of vomiting as possible.

Seeing no other option than to go back to the hostel and get your snowboard, you try to calm yourself as much as you can. It’s finally time to face Jungkook alone, how you’ll manage, you don’t know—but you’ll figure it out as you go.

When you enter the hostel, Jungkook’s already standing in full gear in the main area, turning his head from the hallway leading to the rooms when the chime signals your arrival. He looks confused for a moment, but as you approach your snowboard, you try not to let his presence faze you.

Though you fail miserably when your voice embarrassingly cracks. “Good morning.”

Jungkook still has the same effect on you. Anytime your eyes catch even a glimpse of him, whether in person or just a pixelated picture on the internet, he takes your breath away and makes you flustered all over again. It’s not like it’s something new—he’s had that effect on you ever since the first time you saw him, when he was tapping on your car window, asking if you needed help as you were clearly having a breakdown because you couldn’t, for the life of you, park in the narrow side street.

“Morning. Where’s your other half?” Jungkook’s voice turns slightly bitter, but as you look at him, you can tell he’s more irritated with himself than anything.

“He’s not coming.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question, walking towards the door to leave for the hill.

“He doesn’t need it. It’s just us. Or should we cancel the lesson altogether?” You grin at him as you walk beside each other, playful but secretly hoping for a way out that won’t involve you breaking a bone today.

“No, ‘s fine.” You think you catch a small smile tugging at Jungkook’s lips, but he quickly pulls his scarf up over his mouth, hiding it.

“Did you sleep well?”

You mull over his question, wondering if whining about being awake most of the night because of Yoongi’s snoring, which could probably warrant a sleep clinic appointment, and your own relentless overthinking about Hara’s pregnancy and Jungkook’s involvement, warranting an appointment with a psychologist, would be a good idea. But you decide against it. Not just because you don’t want to confront him yet, but because voicing a lie to explain why a whole bottle of wine didn’t lull you to sleep doesn’t cross your mind quickly enough.

“Perfectly. And you?”

“Yeah, though the beds are a bit too soft. You like them though, right?”

Nostalgia hits you like a snow storm—the fact that Jungkook still remembers such trivial details about you.

“Yeah, I even brought my snuggly,” you giggle, knowing he’ll definitely remember that as well. 

What you didn’t consider is that the exact pillow you’ve been cradling every night since you got it was a gift from Jungkook himself. When his eyes snap to you, wide with recognition, searching your face to make sure he heard you right, you realise you’ve said too much.

He doesn’t ask any follow-up questions. In fact, he doesn’t say anything, and you’re too caught up in your head to even attempt small talk. How could you, with Jungkook? The two of you have never been like this, never awkward. You were always at ease, immediately friends, then more, and eventually…nothing at all.

It’s only when you reach the dreaded hill, with Jungkook stepping in front of you like the instructor he is—and how you should be seeing him right now—, that you try to bottle up everything, telling yourself you’ll bring it up later, maybe over lunch. It’s already late morning, so it won’t be too long until you get the answers you’re desperate for.

“So, today we’ll be snowboarding for real,” he starts, but it’s so much softer than when Yoongi was with you. There’s a gentleness in his tone now, something quieter, like he’s trying to ease you into it rather than push. “But before we lift up and go down the slopes, I want you to get a feel for gliding with a bit of speed.”

Yeah, no. He’s not easing, he’s definitely pushing you. You don’t like where this is going.

“First with a rope, then we’ll use the hill a few times, and hopefully before lunch we’ll make our first descent down the blue slope.”

“Blue?”

“It’s the easiest one. I’ll explain it in detail once we’re up there.” He points with his thumb over his shoulder.

Following the direction, you notice multiple skiers and snowboarders already dashing down the slopes. You’re pretty sure you hear someone scream right before they fall, snow exploding around them like flour hitting the ground. You gulp dryly, but you nod all the same.

When Jungkook pulls a cut-off lift cord from his jacket, you’re equal parts terrified and impressed by how much he carries around without you noticing.

“Clip yourself in, please,” he instructs as he unwraps the cord, walking towards you with both ends in hand.

Of course, you do as he says, but you can’t help glancing warily at the cord, still unsure of exactly what he’s got planned.

Shifting awkwardly on your snowboard, trying not to fall while Jungkook messes with the lift cord, you try to ignore the racing of your heart as Jungkook’s gloved hands tug gently around your body to secure it. But all your attempts to focus on anything other than how natural it feels for him to be helping you again, are futile at their best. 

„You ready?“ He’s got this grin on his face, one you recognise too well—the kind that usually means he’s about to do something reckless or ridiculous. It’s the same grin he had that time he convinced you to build a fort out of every cushion in his apartment, just because and why not.

“Not even a little bit,” you admit, but still, you’ve never been able to say no to that grin. Snowboarding is definitely not something you ever thought you’d be doing, yet, here you are, letting your ex teach you. It’s awkward as it sounds, except…it’s not.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I’m gonna start pulling now. Just relax, yeah?” he grins, his voice carrying that casual, teasing tone that makes your heart ache just a little bit too much. Swallowing hard, you adjust your stance, trying to keep your balance as he gets into position.

“Relax? You’re literally going to run while pulling me. How am I supposed to relax?” you shoot back, giving him a look. Your knees feel wobbly just thinking about it, and you’re not even moving yet.

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling ever so lovingly at the edges. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. Just focus on staying straight and let me do the hard part.”

You shake your head, but deep down, you do trust him. You always have, even when you probably shouldn’t. Like that time he tried to teach you how to ride a bike after you told him you hadn’t been on one since you were a kid. He’d run alongside you, holding the seat, laughing the whole time while you screamed about how you were going to crash. And yeah, you did crash. But he was right there to catch you before you hit the ground.

“Okay, here we go!” Jungkook calls out suddenly, interrupting your thoughts. He grabs the lift cord a bit tighter, gives it a little tug, and then he’s off—actually sprinting through the snow, pulling you behind him like some kind of sled dog.

The board jerks beneath you as you’re dragged forward, and for a split second, you think you’re about to eat snow. But you don’t. Somehow, you manage to keep your balance, your legs flexing to stay upright as you glide over the snow. You can’t help it—you let out a yelp of surprise, half-laughing, half-shrieking, as Jungkook keeps running ahead of you, turning to look over his shoulder with a huge grin on his face, sparkling eyes, and a nose red from the cold.

“See? You’re doing it!” he shouts, his voice breathless but excited, clearly proud of you just for managing not to fall.

“Don’t distract me!” you yell back, laughing now despite yourself. The rush of the cold air against your face and the ridiculousness of the situation sends a burst of adrenaline through you, and for a moment, you actually feel like you’re snowboarding. Well, sort of. „I’m going to crash!“

„Nah, I’d never let you crash!“

You look up at that and he still looks annoyingly good, like he’s stepped out of a high-end winter sports ad. You wonder if he’s thinking about the past too—about the warmth you’d felt on those lazy Sunday mornings when you’d wake up next to him, the two of you tangled in blankets, sharing groggy laughter and sleepy conversation before starting the day.

Why did it have to end? That thought keeps creeping up, even though you tell yourself not to think about it. You weren’t right for each other, or maybe you were, but just not at the right time maybe. But there are still these little moments that get you. Moments like now, when he’s right in front of you, close enough but still far away.

Jungkook slows down a little, but his grip on the cord stays secure, guiding you as you slide behind him. It’s strangely easy, being pulled along like this. You’re not focused on your feet or the board or the fear of falling—you’re just…moving because of Jungkook. Making you remember all those rare times you’d dance around the kitchen with him guiding you in his sturdy arms, not caring if you looked ridiculous or if you were stepping on each other’s socked feet. Back when everything was uncomplicated, and just being with him made you happy.

“You’re not even trying to steer!” Jungkook calls out, teasing, his breath visible in the cold air. He looks over his shoulder again, his hair bouncing slightly as he jogs, and there’s something playful and secure in his eyes—something that makes you remember why you fell for him in the first place.

“I’m trying! Let me life!” you protest, though your voice is shaky from laughing too hard. It’s ridiculous, this whole thing, but you’re actually having fun.

“Alright, I’m gonna let go now,” Jungkook warns, slowing down even more. “Get ready to stop.”

You brace yourself, bending your knees just a bit more, trying to remember everything he told you over the last two days about controlling the board. But before you can do much more than panic slightly, he releases the cord, and you glide forward, the board still carrying you for a few more feet before coming to a slow, wobbly stop right in front of him, your snowboard between his legs.

You stand there for a moment, catching your breath, and when you turn your head up to look from Jungkook’s chest to his face, there’s nothing less than a satisfied smile on his lips.

“See? Told you it’d be fun,” he smiles, like this whole thing was a walk in the park for you. Honestly, it probably would be for him. He’s always been annoyingly good at making things look easy.

“Fun? I almost fell like ten times!” you exaggerate, but you’re still smiling. You can’t help it. It’s hard not to smile when you’re around him, even now, years later. 

Slightly out of breath, he gives you that boyish grin that makes you swoon even more. “But you didn’t. And you were laughing, which means you were having fun.”

You want to argue with him, to say that just because you were laughing doesn’t mean you weren’t terrified, but the truth is, you did have fun. More fun than you’ve had in a while, actually.

“Okay, fine. Maybe it wasn’t that bad,” you admit, brushing some snow off your gloves. “But I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That’s the point. You don’t have to know what you’re doing. You just have to let yourself try.”

You stare at him for a second, trying to decide if he’s talking about snowboarding or —again—something else entirely. It’s funny how easily he slips back into your life like this when you’re alone and forget about the world, making you laugh, making you feel like things aren’t as complicated as they really are. It reminds you of all those little moments you had together—when you’d stay up late, talking about nothing in particular, just enjoying the sound of each other’s voice or binge-watching shows that neither of you were really that into but refused to stop watching because you both needed to see how ridiculous the plot would get. Or, even, those lazy afternoons spent cooking together, fumbling through recipes neither of you knew how to make, laughing at each other when you messed up.

Those days were safe, easy. And even though it’s over, you miss that ease sometimes—the way he’d make you laugh without trying, the way he’d look at you during the quiet moments when he didn’t think you were paying attention.

Jungkook steps back and bends down to pick up the cord again, glancing up at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Wanna go again?”

You sigh dramatically, though you’re already nodding. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

He laughs, and the sound of it is oh so wonderfully warm. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

As he starts pulling the cord again, you feel that rush of excitement building in your chest, the same way it used to whenever he’d suggest something spontaneous or ridiculously dangerous. It’s easy to forget everything else when you’re with him—how things ended, how you’re supposed to be moving on. But for now, in this exact moment, with him pulling you along like old times, you let yourself enjoy it. 

Because quite frankly, as soon as you have the talk with him, you’re sure there won’t be any of these shared moments anymore. Ignoring the ticking countdown inside your head is everything you’re willing to do for now, you’re not quite ready to let go of the ease that obviously can still exist between you, fragile as it may be. 

Some time later, after you’ve been gliding—no, really snowboarding—down the hill a few times, you’re sitting on top of it with Jungkook beside you. Both of you are clipping yourselves in, facing the lift where you’re about to head up for your first proper descent.

“People are already off to lunch, so the lift’s going to be pretty empty. Try to stop right behind me, I’ve got the ticket for you.”

“Okay.” you hesitate, but maybe it’s the perfect time to clear some of your questions. “Uh, before we start, could you tell me what you’ve all been saying about me in the group chat?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like, what you’ve been talking about me. About us.”

Jungkook looks completely confused, muttering, “We don’t talk about you there,” but he pulls his phone from his pocket regardless, unlocking it and heading straight to the group chat. “What the fuck?!”

“What is it?”

You try to peer at his phone, but the sun’s too bright for you to make anything out.

“They’ve removed me from the chat.”

Frowning at his phone, Jungkook quickly types out a flurry of messages to all his friends, each one filled with the same curse words and passive-aggressive tone. But when you see him typing to Hara, it’s just a politely phrased question, before he puts his phone away and turns to you with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on with—”

“Jungkook!”

You turn towards the chirpy voice calling out, spotting two snowboarders decked out in pink, gliding effortlessly towards you. Their gear isn’t baggy, snugly fitting and showing off their slender physiques.

“Who’s that?” you mutter to yourself, still transfixed by how effortlessly they come to a stop in front of you. You think you hear Jungkook mumble something like no clue.

Both girls remove their scarves and protective goggles, revealing not only perfect features but also flawless makeup—more suited for a night out than a day on the slopes.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets them, confusion evident in his tone.

“It’s so dope to see you again! Right, Minji? Best instructor in the world.”

Both giggle, and you notice Jungkook shifting uncomfortably. Did he sleep with them? They look so young, he wouldn’t have…right?

“Oh, thanks. Minji and…uh…”

“Sora!” She winks at him, still ignoring your presence. “It’s been, what? Two years? We’ve grown up now, right?”

“The Cho cousins! Of course! Wow, you really have grown up!” Jungkook smiles now, no longer bothered by the obvious flirting, though your mood sours the longer the girls stare at him.

“You remember,” Minji breathes, looking at him like a lovesick puppy.

“You want to grab lunch with us? Catch up a bit?”

“We were just about to—” you start, but Sora interrupts you with a pout.

“Pretty please?”

“Are your parents with you?” Jungkook asks.

“No, just us.”

Jungkook turns to look at you, and you school your expression into neutrality.

“We could have lunch now and then—”

“Yeah, the lesson’s over for today,” you say flatly, unclipping your feet from your board and getting up immediately. “See you later.”

You’re not proud of how you’ve handled it, but you’re done. You’ve wasted the whole morning without getting any answers, and now there’s another issue you wouldn’t have wanted.

“Wait!” Jungkook calls after you, but you’re already at the base, not looking back as you head straight to the hostel, hoping Yoongi had the sense and decency to finally grab your stuff from Hope’s.

Hearing Jungkook trying to catch up with you gives you that extra boost, despite your muscles aching, pushing you to increase your pace. It’s pretty embarrassing how you’re practically fleeing from him, but you’re pissed, and you’re petty, and he knows it too. Jungkook definitely still knows how to handle you when you’re like this, but right now, you just can’t.

Luckily, he doesn’t speed up, and you make it to the hostel first, stumbling inside. Everyone, literally everyone, is scattered around the main area as if they’re plotting something you’re not in on. They all fall silent the moment you burst through the door, with a few empty takeout boxes on the table and Jimin holding a clipboard and pen.

“Uh, hello?” you ask carefully.

That seems to break their trance as everyone starts blinking and moving again. Yoongi gets up with a takeout box in hand and walks over to you.

“Want some takeout?” He’s being too nice, and the way his eyes shift over his shoulder to Namjoon and Hope does anything but ease your nerves.

“What’s going on here?”

No one answers. Jin even starts whistling while cleaning his nails, which earns him a swift kick to the shin from Hara, who’s sitting between him and Tae.

“Just getting things ready for tonight,” Namjoon finally says, though you can see in his eyes that he’s straight-up bullshitting you.

You don’t have time to push for answers as Jungkook bursts through the door too, looking just as confused. “What’s going on?”

“Preparations,” everyone except you says in unison, making them seem even more suspicious than they already are.

“Why are you back so soon?” Hara tries to distract, smiling as she glances between you and Jungkook.

That’s your cue to leave though. You’re not dealing with this today. “Thanks for the takeout, I’m off for a shower. Bye~.”

And with that, you grab the takeout box from Yoongi, swap it with your snowboard, and stomp off in your snow-covered boots towards your suite. Locking yourself inside, you decide to spend the day on some much-needed self-care before you have to face the party tonight.

Because finally having the time to think—or rather, not to think—and just get back to your inner zen, maybe even start acting a bit more rationally, is exactly what you need. You’re just relieved that everyone, even Yoongi, has left you alone throughout the whole afternoon, only briefly interrupting you so he could get ready for the evening as well.

You’re not sure why you opted for the clothes you’re currently wearing, feeling ridiculously overdressed for this town, but at the same time underdressed for the weather. Still, you won’t let every other woman around you push you into their shadows, knowing there’s a spotlight for you too, even though you barely take it.

If Jungkook’s the visual type, which you know for a fact he is, then you’ll damn well show him what he’s missing. Not just to give him a mental middle finger, but also for you to feel at least a bit more adequate.

Maybe there’ll be someone at the party who’ll appreciate your appearance, someone who isn’t familiar with your past or your sorry attempt at being something you’re simply not. Maybe tonight’s all about getting answers and a change, closing the book written by Jungkook.

Grabbing your small purse, you stuff your phone into it, pulling on your boots, which don’t quite match your outfit, but leaving with heels would be a death sentence with the snow-covered streets. It’ll have to do, especially when you’re hoping that Jin’s place is dimly lit, so no one notices your footwear anyway.

When you enter the main area, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jungkook are already waiting for you, the latter two stunned silent as they take you in. It makes you blush, though you hope your makeup stays true to its claims and doesn’t let the pink show through.

Jungkook’s decked out in all black again, his fitted jeans straining against those massive thighs you’ve always had a weakness for. You think you spot a silver chain peeking out from his collar—it looks familiar, but you’re not entirely sure. You reckon it might be a new one; time has definitely passed, and it would be odd if he were still wearing jewellery gifted by his petty ex who dumped him.

“Finally,” Yoongi breathes, standing up from the couch with a clap to his knees.

Jungkook throws him an evil eye, though you chalk it up to his general hostility towards him rather than any real annoyance at the semi-rude comment about how long you took to get ready.

“You look beautiful,” Namjoon smiles, that dimpled smile of his, walking beside you as you head out to the party.

“Thanks, Namjoon, I like your hair.” You compliment him back, noticing the effort he’s put in as well, his hair now gelled back, showing off his forehead.

You’re glad Jungkook doesn’t butt in again, though the silent simmering isn’t much better. It’s kind of childish how he’s acting—not that you’re any better—but still, it grates on your nerves. At this point, though, you’re not even sure talking to him would help, considering how loaded everything is between you two, you reckon there might not be a way back to normalcy. Not that you know what normal would look like with Jungkook. 

When you finally reach Jin’s, you’re pleasantly surprised by how it’s transformed—not just because the whole town’s there, but because the decorations are on point. Multiple mistletoe hang from the ceiling, with glittery ornaments reflecting the fairy lights, making the whole place feel more like a Christmas nightclub than the posh restaurant it was just yesterday.

You spot Hope, Hara, and Tae right away, deep in conversation in front of a makeshift stage, where several microphones and instruments are set up. Jungkook and Namjoon are swarmed within seconds by women swooning over them like starved cougars which annoys you just a bit more than usual. 

It’s too much for you again—you can’t stand to watch—so you grab Yoongi’s hand and drag him to the bar, needing to drown a shot glass, even if it ends up filled with your tears by the end of the night.

“Hey!” Jin greets you from behind the bar, shaking up a drink for an older lady perched on a barstool, who looks like a cross between a crazy rich Asian and a fashion icon. You’re sure to see Jimin’s hair flopping at the other end of the bar, probably helping out in serving drinks tonight. 

“Yo, Jin, what’s up?” Yoongi daps him up, and you sit down, swirling slightly while deciding what you’ll drink tonight.

“What can I get you?”

“A beer for me and…”

“A shot of vodka and a glass of wine, please.”

“Going hard tonight?” Jin laughs, but he prepares your drinks without much judgement.

“It’s a party, isn’t it?”

“Of course. Enjoy yourselves,” he winks, setting down the drinks before heading off to serve another customer.

“You planning on getting smashed?” Yoongi asks, right before taking his first sip.

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Just talk to him.”

You give him a silent glare, throwing your head back as the vodka disappears before you know it. When you get home, you’ll definitely need to cut back on the alcohol—it’s gotten out of hand, and you know it.

“Maybe you don’t want answers.“

„Maybe.“ 

„You coming over?” Yoongi nods towards the group of friends, Jungkook standing with them next to Hara but with his eyes locked on you, watching intensely as you turn.

You can’t look away, not when he’s hypnotising you the way only he can, making you feel exposed to the core, even from across the room.

“No, I’ll come over in a bit.”

“Suit yourself.”

And with that, Yoongi’s gone, pushing through the crowd while you turn back to the bar, watching Jin and Jimin work, taking gulps of wine one after the other, just as soon as you set the glass down.

You can’t help but take occasional peeks over your shoulder at the others, always laughing and having a good time. But every time, Jungkook’s eyes are already locked on you, refusing to look away even when you catch him staring. His confidence is bold, and he’s never been shy about it—or anything, really—which only stirs the fire inside you, the one only he could ever ignite.

After your second glass of wine, your mind wanders to fantasies that can only come true in your dreams. What if he’s not with Hara? If he’s not the baby daddy? Would there still be a chance for you? Would you be enough?

What if you are? What if everything goes back to how it once was? Would you be happy? Of course you would, how could you not. Even the toughest days spent with Jungkook aren’t as hard as being without him. You’d take fighting with him over being apart from him any day.

But the fact that you’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours, and no one has even attempted to make a move on you, destroys your pride even more. Maybe you’re just not desirable enough, and Jungkook, being the peak of human perfection, would see it that way too.

When he joins you at the bar after some time, you don’t even need to look to know it’s Jungkook standing beside you, leaning on the counter—his unique fragrance mixed with his scent gives him away instantly.

“A whiskey, please,” he calls over the music to the barman, Jimin and Jin by now replaced by two unfamiliar faces.

“Didn’t know you drink during the week.”

Jungkook’s jaw ticks ever so slightly, his head hanging low as his fringe hides his eyes.

“Can’t I enjoy myself too?”

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself as much as you like.” You can’t help the bitter tone in your voice, hoping he didn’t catch it, but Jungkook noticed.

When he’s handed his drink, he turns to you, and you can’t help but take him in. It’s instinct at this point, letting your eyes shamelessly stray over his build and features, though he’s just the same.

“You look like you’re doing just fine without me.” Ouch.

“Maybe you do too.” You try to safe face.

There’s silence now as Jungkook takes a sip of his whiskey, his darkened eyes flickering over your face as if trying to make sense of you.

But eventually, he just shakes his head. “Having to learn how to live without you is a lesson I never wanted to learn.”

He’s gone as quickly as he appeared, and you’re left alone again. You can’t spend the whole evening like a fucking loner at the bar, so you order another glass, and once it’s handed to you, you get up and head towards the others.

Just like the rest of the night, they’re loudly chatting and laughing away, now joined by Jin, who’s massaging Hara’s shoulders, and Jimin, who’s clearly annoying the hell out of Yoongi.

“___!” Tae shouts over the heads of the others, bulldozing towards you as you stand beside Jungkook, throwing himself over your shoulders.

The hug mends your broken heart just a little, and you regret not coming over sooner, realising you were once again stuck in your head, missing out on the easy fun that was waiting for you.

“Tae, hi!” You feel a bit of wetness on your back, probably from the drink Tae’s holding, but you don’t let it bother you, knowing it’ll dry in no time with the heat surrounding you.

“You left so quickly this morning,” Hara pouts, and guilt washes over you instantly.

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve got a sensitive stomach and…well, you know…”

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

“No, it’s fine! Nothing you could’ve done,” you laugh, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

The chatter picks up again, and you’re relieved no one mentions you keeping your distance until now. Everyone seems pretty laid back, happy to let people take space if they need it. Well, everyone except Jungkook, who’s stepped a little away from you and closer to Hara.

It stings a bit—well, a lot—but you try to keep the tight-lipped smile intact, tuning into the conversations around you over the music.

“You ready?” Jin grins over Hara’s head at Jungkook, who shifts uncomfortably.

“Do I have to?”

“Course you do! It’s tradition at this point,” Hope laughs, and even though you have no idea what they’re talking about, his bright laughter makes you giggle too.

Jungkook still looks unsure, but when Hara nudges him, leaning away from Jin to whisper something in his ear while squeezing his bicep, he nods and hands his drink to Jimin, prompting cheers from everyone but you and Yoongi.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi mouths at you, and you just shrug, just as clueless.

“Here goes nothing,” Jungkook mutters, and as he and Jin make their way to the stage—Tae giving them both a hard slap on the ass—your own nerves start to flare up.

Hara stands right beside you, pulling you into a side hug. “I’m so proud of him.”

You don’t bother asking why; your question will be answered any minute now.

“Hello everyone! Thanks for coming tonight! And like every year, let’s kick off the real party with our babystarcandy!” Jin shouts into the mic, tossing paper hearts into the air as Jungkook grabs a guitar from the side, slinging the strap over his shoulder and stepping up to the mic Jin just left.

The room erupts into the loudest cheers you’ve ever heard, with Hara screeching the loudest. Jungkook glances at her bashfully with a small smirk.

“Hey, everyone.”

More deafening cheers follow, and you swear you see a black bra flying through the air towards the stage, though you’re not sure—your alcohol-hazed vision could be playing tricks on you at this point. 

“What do you want to hear first?” Jungkook’s smooth voice reverberates through the room, and you realise he’s made for the stage. You’ve never seen him like this before.

The crowd shouts random song titles you’ve never heard before, but the loudest—and from Hara—is a request for a song called ‘Guillotine,’ one you’ve too never heard of. Jungkook locks eyes with her again and simply nods with cheeks dusted pink and a small smile.

“Alright, this one’s for someone special.”

As the first chords flow from his guitar, his tattooed fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings, eyes closed as if he’s pouring his soul into the song, the entire room falls silent.

“Sleep on me, feel the rhythm in my chest, just breathe.”

You gulp, not just because his voice is beautiful beyond words, but because when you glance at Hara, you see her with glassy eyes, softly mouthing the lyrics. You feel yourself starting to break. The words rain down on you, pulling you under, making it hard to breathe without gasping.

“I will stay, so the lantern in your heart won’t fade.”

This can’t be happening. It really can’t. Jungkook’s found the true love of his life, and it’s not you. You were never meant to be—just a prototype, an example for the perfect candidate, but only a candidate. 

It’s her.

Tears well up in your eyes, though for entirely different reasons than Hara, who’s now curled into Jin’s side, still singing along, cheering for Jungkook, who keeps glancing in her direction with that same soft smirk.

“I know that you love me, love me, even if I lose my head.”

And as the whole room joins in, singing, clapping, and cheering, you silently crash. Splintering into a thousand pieces, never to be put back together. Your wine glass slips from your hand and shatters on the floor, but the sound is drowned out by Jungkook’s guitar. Still, Yoongi and Namjoon notice. They see you gasping for air, breaking, spiralling, and finally turning to flee from the hell that you’re forced to see.

You push through the crowd, head down, trying to block out the sound of Jungkook’s voice, but it’s everywhere, even as you burst outside and run towards the hostel. It’s still there, screaming in your head, with no way to drown it out.

01 • masterlist • 03

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

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

[pedroscurls]

Hugh x reader actress. Both live their relationship out of the spotlight, trying to keep it professional every time they're at some Hollywood event in front of the camera, but Hugh can't stop eyeing his girl in a tight dress during the party organized for the success of his latest movie.

mesmerized from afar (one-shot)

summary: despite your relationship with hugh being out in the open, you both still do your best to keep it professional in the public eye... until hugh makes it very obvious during a hollywood event. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader content warnings: fluff, teasing, sexual tension, hugh can't keep his eyes (and hands) off of you, no use of y/n word count: 2.2k a/n: to the anon who sent this request in, i also am sorry it took me so long to write this!!! i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it bc i love this dynamic of hugh not being able to contain himself during an event. as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

“I’ll see you at the red carpet?” Hugh asks from over the phone. You had just landed in New York and figured it’d be best to just get ready at your place instead of meeting him at his. You know that you’re going to be about half an hour late, but you don’t have to be there on time. The event was for Deadpool & Wolverine, a party to celebrate the success of the movie. 

“Yeah, baby. I just got to my place. I’ll be there.” 

“Okay, honey. Pack a bag, yeah?” 

You bite your lower lip and smile, already having had a packed duffle bag to bring with you. “Yes, Hugh,” you laugh quietly. “We did already discuss that I’d be spending the weekend with you.”

“Good, good,” he replies. “Missed you a lot.” 

“Me too, baby,” you say softly. “Can’t wait to just spend time with you.” 

Hugh sighs from the other end. “Alright, baby. I’ll let you go and get ready. I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Hugh,” you smile. Hearing those words from him will never get old and despite being in a relationship with him for over a year now, you both like to keep your relationship as private as you both can. It isn’t a secret that you’re together, but you both had talked about keeping things professional in the public eye. Though, neither of you can escape the paparazzi pictures of the photographs that fans have taken of you when you’re both out and about in the city with each other. 

You also rarely go to events together, never arriving at the same time and never walking the red carpet side by side. You both have done a good job at keeping things away from the public eye, only giving them a glimpse into your relationship with pictures posted on your social media. It helps strengthen your relationship with Hugh, not revealing so much to the media and keeping the most intimate aspects of your relationship amongst one another. 

You’re still relatively new in the industry, having had your big break in a film that won you best actress a few years ago. You’re lucky enough to have Hugh and even Ryan and Blake to guide you in this new world that you still haven’t gotten used to. 

You see a text message from Blake, smiling to yourself when she said that she was going to come over to help you get ready. It isn’t a secret that you still aren’t familiar with the formality of these events because you still pay for your own dresses and still do your own hair and makeup. You’ve received a lot of messages from designers who would like for you to wear their dresses, but it just never felt like you. You were simple. Always have been, always will. 

So instead of agreeing and accepting Blake’s offer, you send her a quick text to let her know that you’re almost finished getting ready. It’s mainly a lie– you haven’t even showered yet, but you at least have your dress laid out on your bed. 

You have two hours to get to the event, so you send a quick text to let Hugh know that you can’t wait to see him. His reply comes almost instantly, sending you a simple heart emoji. 

—

An hour and a half later, you’re standing in front of your full body mirror with a satisfied expression on your face. You’re wearing a full length, navy blue dress with spaghetti straps resting on your shoulders, trailing into a tailored silhouette where the fabric clings to every curve. You bite your lower lip, the sweetheart neckline and empire waist fitting so well with your frame. You turn slightly, looking over your shoulder to see the deep v-open styled back with a high slit on the left side of the dress, revealing your exposed thigh as the bottom of the dress sculpts into a mermaid skirt. It’s elegant, yet sexy. 

Your makeup remains light, neutral with your hair in loose waves and pinned back away from your face. Grabbing your bag, you hear your phone go off to let you know that your driver is waiting downstairs to take you to the event. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. Red carpet events still make you anxious, the flashes of the camera, talking with reporters – all of it was still another aspect of this new life that you hadn’t gotten used to yet. The fans, however, you feel more at home and at ease with them, always taking the time to speak with each other and provide your full undivided attention to them. 

You climb into the backseat of the car, immediately making conversation with the driver as you send a text to Hugh that you’re on your way. Fifteen minutes later and you feel the car stop at the end of the red carpet. You can hear the screams, can hear your name being called from outside and when you step out, you take a deep breath and put on a smile despite the nerves you feel in the pit of your stomach. 

Your publicist leads you to the carpet, motioning for you to stand on the first mark as you pose for the cameras, waving to the fans that scream your name with excitement. You turn your head and immediately meet eyes with Hugh, who’s standing very far from you as he’s speaking with a reporter. 

You walk to each marker, taking the time to pose for the photographers. You want so badly to run up to Hugh, to be pulled into his arms, but you refrain from doing so. You try to remind yourself that you need to remain professional, but you can’t help but notice the way he’s looking at you. Even while he’s talking with the reporters, his eyes never leave you. 

The moment Hugh heard your name being called, his attention was pulled from the person he was speaking to. He glanced over at the end of the red carpet, his breath being taken away once you stepped out. Hugh clears his throat at the sight of you, the dress that clings to perfectly to each curve that he’s so familiar with, and your smile that makes his heart race even faster. There’s a kindness behind your eyes that he had fallen in love with and despite knowing that this – red carpet events – aren’t something you’re too keen on, you still display such grace and elegance. 

He feels a hand clasp his shoulder and Hugh has to tear his eyes away from you to look over to see Ryan standing next to him, apologizing to the woman with the microphone. 

“I’m so sorry for my friend here,” Ryan grins, eyes glancing over in your direction. “He just gets so distracted.” 

“Well, can you blame me?” Hugh chuckles, pointing at you. “I mean, look at her. She looks amazing.” 

The woman nods in agreement and then looks over at Hugh and Ryan. “The fans want to know, Hugh,” she begins. “How come you both never come to these things together? We know you’re both in a relationship, so…”

“Ah,” Hugh smiles. “The million dollar question.” 

“Well, let’s keep that a secret,” Ryan interjects. “Now, if you’d excuse us…”

Ryan takes Hugh away from the line of reporters to meet with you as you get closer. You smile up at Ryan, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug. 

“You look beautiful,” Ryan says. “Blake told me she was going to help you get ready.”

“Yeah, well you know me…” you smile. 

Hugh gently reaches out to take your hand, his eyes sparkling in your direction. “You look–” he lets out a breath. “My god, baby.” 

“You like the blue?” you lean in and peck his lips lightly, hearing your name and Hugh’s being called repeatedly. 

“Oh, I love it.” 

“Okay, and now I’m gonna go and find my girl,” Ryan says, leaving the both of you. 

“You look so handsome,” you tell Hugh, hands coming up to gently straighten out his bowtie.

“Me? Look at you, baby.” Hugh grins, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. Every thought and conversation he’s had with you to keep things professional leaves his mind. He can’t get enough of you, can’t take his eyes off of you. 

“You’re being very… showy,” you giggle, hand moving up to rest on his chest as the other comes up to wrap around his shoulders. “You do realize that we’re out in public.”

“Don’t matter to me,” Hugh smiles. “You look breathtaking, baby.” 

“It isn’t too much?” you ask. 

“I think it’s not enough,” Hugh answers. “And the slit on your leg,” he growls. “You’re just teasing me at this point, baby.” 

“What?” you blush. 

“I mean, I love this dress. I do, but–” Hugh shuts his eyes and leans in to whisper quietly into your ear. “I just want to rip it off of you the minute we get back home.” 

You clear your throat and gently grip at the lapel of his suit jacket, feeling the anticipation and throbbing between your legs. “You can’t go around saying things like that when we have this party to attend the entire night.”

Hugh chuckles and pulls back enough to rest his forehead against yours. He can hear the photographers calling his name, can hear the sounds of the cameras going off, and he leans forward and presses his lips firmly against yours. He wants the whole world to know just how much he loves you. 

He doesn’t try to deepen the kiss, afraid that if he does, he’s going to have to somehow hide his growing erection. So, he pulls away and looks down at you. “We still have half of the carpet to go. Care to join me, baby?” 

“You sure?” 

“Absolutely,” Hugh answers. He takes your hand and leads you to the next marker, standing right next to you as his arm snakes around your waist. He can’t even smile or pose for the cameras, too focused on you. You lead him towards the end of the carpet, grateful that you’re in control because all he can think about is you and that dress. Usually, Hugh’s a gentleman, making sure not to make it too obvious that his eyes are lingering, but he can’t help himself. 

Once you turn around, your back facing him, Hugh comes up from behind you and wraps his arms around you. He presses a kiss to your temple, whispering into your ear. “You’re absolutely stunning, baby.”

The cameras continue to go off, so excited and grateful to have captured this moment between the both of you. You look up at him and smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Hm, all these compliments, Hugh… What do you want?” 

Hugh grins, leading you away from the red carpet and into the venue. “Oh, baby, you know what I want.” It’s dark when you enter the building, pressing his front against your backside. The fabric of your dress is satin, but thin enough that you can feel him so firmly. 

“Hugh…” 

“Okay, okay,” Hugh kisses your cheek and then pulls away before he gets too excited. He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. “Let’s grab a drink, yeah?” 

“We have a long night ahead of us, don’t we?” 

Hugh chuckles. “Let’s stay for a couple of hours and then head back home.”

“But this party is for you, Hugh. You should probably stay the entire time and–”

Hugh shakes his head. “I’m taking you back home because I don’t think I can last the entire night seeing you in that dress.” 

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Hugh leans down and pecks your lips. “Now, come on. Let’s grab a drink and you owe me a dance.” 

“Oh, I do, do I?” you smile, following him to the bar. 

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m not dancing with you when you’re wearing that dress.” 

—

The two hours quickly approach and you had been talking to Blake when Hugh comes up behind you, arms wrapped around your waist. “Last dance?” he whispers. 

You nod, leaning back against him. “This one always wants to dance,” you tease, telling Blake who gives you a knowing look. 

“Well, you are with the greatest showman,” she quips. 

“Always singing, always dancing, I’m so lucky.”

“And I’m still right here,” Hugh points out with a chuckle. “You mind if I steal her away, Blake?” 

Blake nods and smiles, turning on her heel to go and get another drink. Hugh takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor. He slowly twirls you around, pulling you into him as his free hand rests a hand on your lower back. He keeps ahold of your hand against his chest, bringing it up to his lips as he places a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

Your free hand rests on his shoulder as you gaze up at him, slowly swaying side to side with him. “I think I’ve been really good,” he tells you. “Even though it’s been very hard to not just take you into the bathroom and–”

“Hugh!” you interrupt, letting out a quiet giggle. “One last dance and then we can head home.” 

“Good,” Hugh says. “Because I’ve been very hard for you,” he growls lowly. “It’s quite painful, actually.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you tease. “What can I do to help?”

“I’ve got a few things in mind, baby,” Hugh grins. 

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

[adrienneleclerc]

Shopping Trip

Pairing: Lando Norris x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Lando and Y/N go to the mall and Lando is bored

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: based the scene from the Barbie Movie, you know the one.

Lando was in Monaco, came home after the triple header and like most drivers, he missed his girlfriend. Lando was asleep in his bed when he heard Y/N getting dressed.

“What are you doing up, sweet thing? I thought we could stay in bed.” Lando said.

“Mm, I would love to, mi fresita, but I can’t. I have a nail appointment at the galleria.” Y/N said.

“You mean the metropole shopping center?” Lando asked.

“It’s a big indoor mall, I’m calling it a galleria. I’ll probably have a look around too.” Y/N said.

“Can I come with you?” Lando asked.

“You wanna come with me to get my nails done?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, I could pick out your nail color, I’m paying. Let me shower real quick and we can go.” Lando said.

“Okay, amor.” Y/N said. Y/N had a quick snack and looked for Pinterest photos of nail designs while she waited for Lando to shower and get dressed. Once dressed, Lando got out of the room and sat next to Y/N. “Great, pick which design you like.” Lando took Y/N’s phone and searched through her Pinterest board until he landed on a design he liked.

“This one is very you. Plus, it’s cute and girly, and the color suits you, you ready to go?” Lando asked. Y/N nodded and both of them left the apartment to go to his car.

Though the rules are ‘driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole’, Lando let Y/N pick the music. Once they arrived at the mall, Lando opened Y/N’s door to let her out and they walked into the mall, some people were asking for photos on their way to the nail salon. Y/N walked in first.

“Hello, I’m Y/N, I have an appointment.” Y/N said.

“Ah yes, we were expecting you, we have your chair ready right here.” The employee lead Y/N to the ‘nail station’ while Lando sat in the waiting area. As soon as Y/N was settled, they began their work, using the nail drill to buff her nails. The acrylic isn’t even on Y/N’s nail when Lando decided to stand next to her.

“Darling, I’m bored.” Lando said with a pout, Y/N turned her head.

“Cariño, you wanted to come with me. Just entertain yourself, find something to do.” Y/N said, turning her head back to make conversation with the nail tech. Lando looked around the nail salon.

“What am I supposed to do?” Lando asked.

“Lando! Go for a walk or something.” Y/N said

“By myself?” Lando asked.

“Yes!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Where?” Lando asked.

“Anywhere!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Can i go that way?” Lando asked, pointing to a store across the nail salon.

“Yes.” Y/N said. Lando started walking but he didn’t leave the salon yet. “Don’t go too far.” Y/N said.

“Okay!” Lando exclaimed. He walked back to where Y/N was sitting. “I’ll text you what store I’m at, here’s a couple hundred bucks, I love you.” Lando said, kissing her temple, adding the couple hundred bucks in her bag.

“I love you too, stay on the first floor please.” Y/N said.

“I will.” Lando said before leaving.

An hour or so later, Y/N’s nails are finished, she paid the nail tech, and checked her phone to see what store Lando is at but she found him sitting by the water fountain, eating chicken wings.

“You got food?” Y/N asked.

“I was hungry and I came here to spend time with you, which means we will check the stores together. Let me see your nails.” Lando said and Y/N showed him her nails.

“Beautiful, they did a great job. Maybe when it’s time for me to propose, I’ll send you here to get your nails done.” Lando said, getting up from the fountain edge to walk with Y/N,

“Wow, you think about proposing to me?” Y/N asked.

“Of course I do, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I plan on spending the rest of my life with you.” Lando said,

“You are the sweetest. Think we can go to Sephora?” Y/N asked.

“You spend too much money at Sephora.” Lando said,

“It’s not my fault Ulta isn’t available in Europe. Which is stupid, by the way, Sephora is so expensive for no reason, they don’t have my favorite shampoo and conditioner.” Y/N said.

“All right, let’s go to Sephora.” Lando said.

“Yay!” Y/N said.

The End

Hope y’all liked it, short but cute, do you think Lando would be like this?

[crheativity]

Hello how have u been I was wondering if I can request a slightly part 2 of the reader making the overblot squad cute little plushies so wha if the reader makes the plushies clothing and accessories like for vil’s plushie little fake makeup and same clothing he has sorry if my English is bad I’m still learning

SUMMARY: You decide to make the Overblot Squad’s plushies clothes! How do they react?

WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!

COMMENTS: Oh my GOSH this is such a cute idea!! And no worries Anon, your English is just fine :D I hope you enjoy it!!

Part one - Prefect making the Overblot Squad plushies of their respective Seven member - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.

You made his plushie some… clothes? He didn’t even know you could remove her current ones! He would never think to try something so scandalous on his own! Especially not with a plushy of the Queen of Hearts!! Ah, wait- he meant no disrespect! He just meant that he wouldn’t- uh… He’s just gonna stop talking now.

You have to show him how to change his plushy’s clothes – he refuses to figure it out on his own in case someone walks in – but once you show him it’s not like that, he’s more comfortable with it. He doesn’t change things around a lot – maybe whenever you make him a new one. He keeps them all safely in a box under his bed. Occasionally, he’ll take them out just to look at. Seeing them always makes him smile.

You decided to make the powerful, feared and mighty King of Beasts… a hat? And slippers? Hah, you got guts, Prefect. He’s gotta say, he respects it. Alright, he’ll indulge you. He’s slightly surprised at how small yet detailed the accessories are. There’s something slightly endearing about such small clothes… maybe that’s one of the reasons why people like children? Tch. He can’t relate.

Nonetheless, it’s amusing to him what kind of accessories you think of. He’s also not the type to change up the doll’s outfit a whole lot, but he’ll stash them all around his room. Much like the toy, they all smell of you. It’s starting to annoy the other Beastmen. Ruggie’s strongly considering having an intervention.

Prefect… these are adorable! Are you sure you don’t want to sell these? Ah, r-right. Please forgive him for forgetting they were for-... for his eyes only. Please stop looking at him and let him regain his composure. He absolutely loves them! He hopes you know how much of a friend the doll has become to him. He’s starting to tear up, you’re so kind. Give him a minute.

Azul has designated different clothes for different purposes. Before bed, he puts his doll in her pajamas. When he wakes up, he selects her outfit for the day and changes her into it. He does this almost ritualistically every day. Floyd and Jade have teased him for it, but surprisingly, Azul doesn’t seem to mind.

Oh? You made his Sorcerer of the Sands doll some different outfits? Pft– that’s so cute. He didn’t mean to laugh at you – he’s delighted, really! He just… can’t believe that you’d spend precious free time doing something like that. Hey, come on, he’s not judging you or anything, but free time is precious, right? You should spend it more on doing what you want to do. Still, though, he loves the clothes - and finds your cute little pout adorable. 

He definitely keeps them with the doll. Whenever you make him new ones, he’ll pick up the doll and change the outfit. Otherwise, he’ll only change them a couple times every so often. This has given him an idea though. Maybe you’d like a doll too? Then you could match. Although, Ramshackle dorm doesn’t really have a mascot… maybe he could make you a ghost? Or a plushie of Grim? 

(Didn’t he say that spending ‘precious free time’ doing something like ‘that’ was wasted? Point it out to him and he’ll get flustered and walk off in a huff. He will return with a plush and an apology for you two days later. He enjoyed making it a lot.)

You made his doll clothes?! He’s trying not to squeal like a teenage girl. He didn’t know that his doll could change clothes!! Oh, prefect, he loves you so much. He’s going to ask you to make so many clothes, you better be prepared for what you’re getting into!

He, like Azul, changes the clothes all the time and will often just sit down for like an hour and change the doll into perfect outfits. As you could probably guess, Vil LOVES using the doll to try out new looks. Whenever he’s designing an outfit or a piece of clothing, he always asks you to make a small version for him to try out on the doll. This helps him to be able to practise styling them and getting an idea of how the finished piece would look. 

His favourite kind of outfit to ask for, however, is anything that reminds you of fashion from your homeworld.

You made his marketable plushie some marketable clothes?? Oh my gosh. That’s adorable. It’s so small! Looks like those itty bitty cutey kitty clothes– AH– ahem. you didn’t hear that. He definitely wasn’t just having a total fanboy moment. no siree… do you think you could make him an outfit from his favourite anime? that’d be cool, he guesses.

He’s DEFINITELY gonna make the little guy cosplay his favourite characters. Maybe that’d improve his gacha roles even more? Oh he is 100% down to help too. Any clothes that require metallic details he is WELDING that stuff together. It’s so cute how invested he gets in this. Ortho loves seeing his brother get so passionate about this too!

Malleus is DELIGHTED. He was not aware that his little friend could change outfits! How adorable! He loves you so much! He is this close to buying an actual, fully sized wardrobe just for them! …But Lilia talks him out of it. Actual, fully sized wardrobes take up a surprising amount of room. So, he ends up getting two, miniature wardrobes. Which fills about the same space. Lilia’s not sure his advice really worked.

Malleus will now dress up his dolls for tea parties, picnics, or whatever outings they decide to go on. He is constantly surprised and delighted by whatever you make him, although he’s not very good at suggesting ideas. One of the few ideas he came up with was fashionable about a hundred years ago and was a very complicated piece of clothing. However, when he received the outfit, he took great measure to ensure that no harm would ever come to it. 

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Good Omens graphic novel update: April 2024

Admin & updates

PledgeManager

Earlier this month, we launched the PledgeManager, where shipping is being facilitated. If you missed it, you can read the initial announcement here. We have been adapting the FAQ page to add further recurring asks, so please do visit there if you have a particular query as a starting point. You can view this here. We are working through all queries received - some are taking a bit longer than others, as they need to be raised with PledgeManager, or others involved, so we appreciate your patience in these instances where we are yet to get back. The most common question, which we include here, is the sock sizes:

If you need to change your size, you have the ability to self-unlock your order and make any adjustments you need to. For socks that are part of a tier, there is a button to unlock and modify on the bottom of your receipt where you can alter your choice. If they were an add on, PledgeManager recommends that you remove the item from your cart and add it again with the correct size selected and complete their order to finalize the change.

Shipping

We are also aware of queries arising about the shipping rates themselves. While we have been open from the start of the project that shipping will be charged at a later date, we understand that the resultant cost has come as a surprise to some and that some prices are higher than expected. We want to be transparent on this: we have been working with our fulfillment partners on confirming product weights and the rates for shipping globally during the months since the project’s completion. The cost of doing this ethically - ensuring that everyone involved in the process from creators to those packing boxes is paid fairly, as well as ensuring the packaging is robust at this scale - is substantial.

We’ve done our best to minimise extra costs around shipping, while also not cutting any corners – we want your pledge rewards to reach you safe and sound. We have also subsidised costs across a number of territories, but costs for shipping to many locations remain high. The final thing we’ve done is lock in shipping costs now, a year out from fulfillment. We expect third party shipping costs to increase over the coming year, following the upwards trends across the board so far, but we will continue to absorb any subsequent rises.

We want to assure backers that the shipping does not include a profit margin for us, and every charge to our backers is something we’ve tried to minimise.

We absolutely understand that this is disappointing to many, and we endeavour to keep making the surrounding campaign the best it can be.

The timeline

The PledgeManager will run across 2024, and close at some point ahead of publication date (Spring 2025). When that date has been decided, we will give everyone as much notice as possible.

FAQ

As above, here is the centralised FAQ page. This will be updated over the coming year.

Cameos

Prior updates had noted the deadline for this has passed, however given the new publication date of the graphic novel, this has been extended slightly for God Tier and Archangel Tier backers. Please check your messages and emails if you backed either of these tiers and have not submitted your likeness.

Merch and more

Things are ramping up at Good Omens HQ, first of all with this delivery of one or two mugs at the warehouse:

We’ve also got David Aja’s print featuring Aziraphale, Crowley and Dog, in their glorious orangey hues which will appear in Serpent Tier+:

The trading cards are at the testing stage for game mechanics, while some of the early design prototypes are in for artist variants and we really can’t wait to start sharing these with you when they’re a bit further down the road. Almost there.

For those ready to capture your inner Pratchett and Gaiman on the page (Demon+), we have your notebooks:

More from Colleen…

We’ve continued to see gorgeous artwork arrive from Colleen and here’s one that slipped into our inbox this week:

And we thought we’d sign off this month with a glimpse at our favourite antiquarian bookshop:

[lostsyren]

Could you do.....maybe Sofia canceling a date with Rafe because her paycheck got delayed, and she feels to embarressed to go on dates in the same clothes and had plan to buy new things. She tells him that she is sick, but then he sees her at a bonfire party. He feels heartbroken thinking she lied because she is tired of him while he is head over heels, he walks off, she runs after.....ANGGSTTT <3

˚⊱🪷⊰˚ date night

{a/n: sorry for taking so long to get to my requests but I hope it was worth the wait!!}

{summary: sofia can’t make it to date night, and rafe’s not happy about it…}

꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥

“You really like that dress don’t you?” Ruthie said with a slimy smirk across her face.

Those words echoed through Sofia’s mind as she stared at her closet trying to figure out what to wear with her date with Rafe.

She hadn’t even thought twice about the clothes she wore in front of Rafe and his friends before– having enough confidence in her sense of style. Sofia had carefully curated a wardrobe from lucky thrift store finds and the occasional designer splurge when she had some of her pay check left over.

So when Ruthie had teasingly poked fun at her favourite dress (a satiny, floral slip that she adored), her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

“It’s so cute though, if you like that sorta thing, I can understand why you wear it so much,” Ruthie had continued, hiding her bitchy words under a guise of tooth-aching sweetness.

She hadn’t thought about it again until Rafe had asked her to come out to dinner with him a couple nights later. Sofia enthusiastically accepted– it was only when she got home to get ready, seeing her limited selection of clothes, did the stirring regret begin to overwhelm her senses and Ruthie’s words begin to engulf her brain.

She still had time to go out and buy something new, something Rafe would like (and something that would shut Ruthie up), but when she checked her account balance, she realised she didn’t have enough. After the bills for her siblings tuition and the chunk of her wage she’d spent helping her parents fix the car, she was left with nothing. And she wasn’t getting paid again till a couple weeks.

Sofia huffed exasperatedly, sinking into her bed. She hated feeling like this…feeling inferior. What if Rafe through the same thing? That he was taking her to all these flashy places, driving her around in his shiny car and she couldn’t even dress up a bit for it?

With a sinking heart, Sofia grabbed her phone to call him.

It went through instantly.

“Hey baby, everything ok?” He asked, his voice eliciting somersaults in her stomach.

“Hi Rafe, I just…I don’t think I can do dinner tonight, I’ve got this horrible headache and I think I’m just gonna go to sleep,” she fibbed, biting her lip.

“We don’t have to go out, I can pick you you up and we can just chill at mine– order from that place you like?”

Sofia didn’t like lying to him, it almost physically pained her, gnawing at her bottom lip and playing with the dead skins around her thumb. “I think I just needs some rest.”

“Ok then, get well soon yeah? And text me if you need anything alright? Goodnight Sof,” he said, disappointment toning his words.

“Night Rafe.”

She ended the call quickly, burning hot with guilt– she hated lying. Especially to her boyfriend of all people.

And now she had nothing to do for the rest of the night all because she was too embarrassed to wear the same thing twice…it was honestly so stupid. Sofia huffed and turned around in her bed.

As if sensing her impending boredom, her phone buzzed with a text from her friend, talking about a bonfire party at the Boneyard.

Sofia smiled too herself, slipping on her worn trainers and getting ready to head to the beach.

She didn’t have to worry about what to wear there.

꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥

Rafe, along with Topper, Kelce and Ruthie drove down to the Boneyard. He wasn’t supposed to tag along, but with Sofia cancelling their plans, he had nothing better to do.

As they rolled down the rocky beach in Topper’s jeep, Rafe pulled out his phone, sending Sofia a quick text.

R: Hope that headache goes away soon then maybe we can reschedule? :)

Rafe was surprised at how disappointed he felt after she said she couldn’t make it. All he could think about sitting in the back of the car, watching the Stygian waves roll onto the coast, was how much he’d rather be with her right now.

“Yo Rafe, I thought you were busy tonight?” Kelce pestered with a smirk.

Topper chuckled lowly, “oh yeah, wasn’t it date night tonight? What happened to that?”

“She wasn’t feeling too good so now I’m stuck with you idiots.” He muttered.

“Oh come on, you’ll see her again the club. I’ll make sure to ask for doubles so she’ll come by our table twice, yeah?” Ruthie goaded, twisting her body around so she could see him.

Rafe brewed with a dull anger– he always thought Ruthie was a bitch.

“Two drinks Ruthie? You sure about that? Aren’t you a lightweight?” He scoffed.

“Hey hey hey, let’s have fun tonight yeah?” Topper mediated, parking up the jeep next to the arsenal of vehicles.

The four of them hopped out, heading to the kegger, quickly getting pulled in by their kook friends, enveloped in the heady flow of gossip and conversation. Rafe just stood quietly, sipping at his third cup, enjoying the warmth of the fire on his face and salt of the air on his tongue.

His vision strayed over to the other side of the beach, where all the pogues had congregated. And that’s when he saw her. Dressed in her favourite shorts and sunset coloured hoodie– she looked gorgeous bathed in the glow of the bonfire.

Rafe felt his heart sink into the cavern of his ribcage. She lied to him.

Settling his solo cup down on to the kegger, he pulled out his phone and rang her number, watching her like a predator eyes its prey, his dilated pupils honed on to her unassuming figure.

She excused herself from her friends, walking off to a quieter area before she answered his call.

“Hey baby,” she cooed with a smile, Rafe seething in silence as he watched.

“How you feeling? Still got that headache?” He asked bluntly, his molars grinding down on each other.

“Yeah- yes, still hurts.” She said. Rafe saw her eyebrows furrow as she bit her lip furtively.

“You at home? It sounds kinda loud over the phone?”

“Yeah my siblings have the TV on,” she blatantly lied. Rafe breathed in deeply through his nose.

“Oh so you’re not at the bonfire at the boneyard?”

Rafe watched her face drop, her gaze darting around the beach as she stayed silent on the phone. She locked eyes with him from across the sand, her mouth parting slightly, lips forming a little ‘o’ shape, something that he usually found cute, but now it just irked him.

“Rafe,” she said, voice bordering a whisper.

“You fucking liar,” he hissed, before ending the call, and heading over to the cars, ready to call an Uber for himself and head home.

He tried to regulate his lurching breaths, anger beginning to flow hot through his veins, but it was hard to do when a heart rending sadness slammed into his nervous system, catching him off guard.

Sofia? A liar? No. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t like everyone else.

His fingers struggled to order an Uber, shaking with the aftershock at seeing her deceive him with such disregard.

“Rafe! Wait please I can explain.” He whipped his head back to see Sofia approach him.

“Stop it Sofia, explain what? Huh? How you lied to me?”

A pang of regret reverberated through him when he saw her glassy, tear filled eyes, her quivering lip. Was he being too harsh? No. She was the one who was in the wrong– not him.

“I’m sorry, I just, it’s ugh it’s going to sound so stupid Rafe, but I promise I didn’t mean to hurt or lie to you.”

“What’s going to sound so stupid? Why you made an excuse to get out of being with me? You hate me that bad huh?”

“No no! Of course not. Look, Ruthie said something the other day…” she began, her cheeks red and tear stained.

“Ruthie? What the fuck does she have to do with this?” He yelled. They were on the outskirts of the party, away from the crowds and crackle of firewood.

“She was making fun of how I wear the same thing all the time, you know? And it made me get self conscious…and tonight when I was getting ready, I just got in my own head, thought you would want me dress up more, not just wear the same things every time.”

Rafe’s face contorted in confusion. She couldn’t be serious right now?

“And I can’t just buy a new dress like that, I have bills to pay and stuff so I was just feeling sorry for myself and lied because of my own stupid feelings.” Sofia’s lips began to quiver, another bout of tears quickly approaching, before she shrouded her face with her hands, muffling her soft cries.

“Sof…” he said, tone gentle and kind, feeling like shit for shouting at her. He should’ve know Sofia had a reason for lying and he should’ve know Ruthie had something to do with it.

“Ugh it was so stupid, and I feel like an idiot.” She laughed mirthlessly, as he pulled her into a hug, letting her cry against his chest.

“Baby, you know I don’t care right?”

“Yeah I know. I care though.” She mumbled against his warm embrace.

“Come on, let’s get out of here yeah?”

“Yeah, ok. I’m sorry again, I feel terrible.”

Rafe slung an easy arm around her shoulder, leading her up to road where their taxi was going to meet them, “well don’t, otherwise I’ll feel like shit for shouting at you.”

“Fine. Truce?”

Rafe chuckled softly, looking down at her with a soft smile, as she gazed up at him with her glossy eyes.

“Yeah, truce.”

꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥

A couple days later, after Sofia had slept over at his place, she woke up to the birds singing on Figure 8, a sound lost amidst the cacophony of building work and barking dogs on the Cut. She sighed contentedly, turning around in the sumptuous sheets ready to nestle up against Rafe, to find the bed empty. She hummed in dismay, forgetting it was Sunday, the day he needed to go down to the office.

Eventually, after letting her eyes flutter shut for a couple more blissful minutes, Sofia rolled out of bed, slipping on Rafe’s shirt, a habit she was getting increasingly used to.

She pattered across the hard wood floors ready to get into the shower, before her eyes snagged on something resting on the drawers. It was a cream coloured bag, one from those fancy stores in Kildare Town Centre, the straps made of black silk.

On it was a sticky note, Rafe’s familiar scratchy writing scrawled across the paper.

Now you don’t have an excuse to miss dinner with me :)

Sofia’s eyebrows quirked up in curiosity as she read the cryptic note, rifling into the bag.

Inside was maybe a dozen items of clothes, from satin dresses to cashmere shirts, all in shades of her favourite colours– blooming pinks, soft oranges, cherry reds. She adored every single one.

Her heart soared with excitement and warmth, her cheeks tinged with a rosy blush. Rafe could sometimes be so sweet it left her weak-kneed and gooey, her insides alight with joy.

A creeping sensation of guilt arose– these must’ve been expensive. Sofia noticed he’d removed all the tags off them, probably anticipating her qualms about the price. But she put it aside, ready to first try them on. She’d pay him back, she told herself, running her hands over the silken fabric.

Carefully unpacking each item, she laid them out on the bed, until her fingers skimmed the final one.

Pulling it out, she rolled her eyes with a small smile when she saw the two piece lingerie set Rafe had nestled at the bottom, comprised of black lace and gossamer.

Sofia laughed softly, as she put the piece along with the rest of her gifts– maybe she already had a way to pay him back, one that was much more fun than working double shifts at the club.

꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥

[whotfelsewantedtobelynnyx]

Chat, I regret to inform you that I have added a new hyperfixation…so…

Agatha All Along Incorrect Quotes!

Alice: Hold the fuck up.

Also Alice, crawling into Lilia’s lap: It’s me. I’m the fuck up. Hold me.

Rio: I have an idea!

Jen: No murder.

Rio, sighing petulantly: I no longer have an idea.

Lilia: I have a bad feeling about this…

Agatha: What do you mean?

Alice: Don’t you ever get that little voice in the back of your head that tells you if something is going to get you in trouble?

Agatha: No.

Jen: That actually explains so much.

Lilia: As far back as I can remember, I’ve always had this little voice in my head telling me to “live it up today, because there’s not gonna be a lot of tomorrows”.

Agatha: You do realize there’s medication designed to get rid of those kinds of voices, right?

Teen: A bird flew in through my window and I’m trying to befriend it.

*later*

Agatha: Why don’t you quit bothering me and go talk to your bird friend?

Teen: Matthew and I are not speaking at the moment.

*the coven, huddling together behind a makeshift shelter to shield themselves from repeated gunshots*

Alice, hastily shoving the others behind her so she can return fire: Agatha, do you have any idea who would want to shoot you?!

Agatha, squashed between Jen and Rio: Many people want to shoot me. I take great pride in that!

Jen, glaring at the group as she hands over bail money:

Alice, tapping her shoulder: What about Teen?

Jen, glaring more: I’ve got to bail him out too? Where’s Agatha?

Teen: No one called her. We used Lilia’s phone call to call Alice and Rio’s to call you. Then Rio used my phone call to vote for American Idol.

Rio: :)

Jen: Rio isn’t answering her phone.

Agatha: Here, I’ll try.

Jen: Alice and I have tried six times each, what makes you think that-

Rio, picking up on the first ring: Hey, sweetheart.

Agatha: The ends always justify the means!

Jen: Do you know who said that?

Agatha: Was it Oprah or someone nice and great like that?

Jen: It was Machiavelli. A decidedly non-Oprah like person.

Jen: I bet you didn’t even finish the thing I asked you to get done!

Agatha: For your information, I most certainly did! Got it done last night!

Teen, whispering to Agatha: You didn’t get it done, did you?

Agatha, whispering back: I don’t even know what she’s talking about.

Lilia: I am at a loss for words!

Teen, glancing at the camera like his mom like he’s on The Office: Despite being lost for words, Lilia yelled at us for the next 45 minutes.

Agatha, carrying Señor Scratchy out of the room:

Señor Scratchy: *snuggles under her chin*

Agatha, kissing his head: You are being punished. Please stop being adorable. I love you.

Teen: I got a trampoline tent for summer sleepovers!

Jen, whispering to the other adult witches: …think of all the sex.

Alice: There are two types of people.

Rio: If you wanted to eat someone, you could put a fire under it and slowly roast them :)

Lilia: …three. Three types of people.

Jen, cautiously: I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before, but…Teen, you are a little crazy.

Teen: Aren’t we all a little crazy here, Jen?

Jen: No, I mean you’re aging-ballerina, child-chess-prodigy, professional magician kind of crazy.

Teen: It’s my mom’s fault. You know, we come from a Jewish family, but she used to tell me the reason Santa didn’t come was because my room was too dirty.

Rio: I’ve come looking for trouble. And if I can’t find trouble, I WILL create some.

Alice: Do you trust me?

Lilia, smiling proudly at her: Yes.

Alice, who has been completely panicking: Wait, what? Why?!

Agatha, awkwardly glancing around for help: Er…Alice, I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know what to say to people who are crying. So I’m just gonna hope that the tone of my voice makes you think I do, okay, sweetie?

Alice, sniffling: …thanks, Agatha.

Agatha, patting her on the back with a bit too much enthusiasm: No problem, kid.

Lilia: I told Agatha about it weeks ago!

Teen: She WHAT?

Agatha: What??? Lilia says insane shit all the time, how was I supposed to know this one was true?!

Lilia: Bank accounts are a sham created by the shadow government!

Agatha: SEE?!

BONUS:

Wanda, watching from the afterlife: so…when exactly do kids grow out of that whole emo, rebellious stage?

Lorna, shrugging: I don’t know. Alice is still in it.

[kombuuuu]

Birthday Girl.

Earth42!Miles x Reader + Pavitr x Reader

“Happy Birthday, [Name].”

Headcanons and snippets C:

i want to wife him

E42!Miles: Purple Pavitr: Orange You: Pink Rio Morales: Blue

Miles Morales:

Would wake you up with breakfast in bed

if it’s a day where he’s called in for a job he’ll fight Aaron on getting the day off for you

although, the fight wouldn’t last long

Aaron likes you too, so with a sigh and a pinch of his nose bridge, he concides

letting Miles have the day off but only with a promise of working him to the bone the next day over

he rolls his eyes but the smirk on his face makes his uncle scoff a laugh

so with breakfast in hand, he’s gently shaking you awake

whispering your name with the promise of food

your sleepy voice greeting him makes the butterflies in his stomach awaken

“[Name].. Wake up, Chiquita, I have breakfast.”

“Food? Hi, Miles.”

He smiles at your slurred words, and you peak your head from under your covers. Pulling yourself to sit up.

There’s a spread of breakfasts foods in front of you, all your favourites.

“Miles..”

“Happy Birthday, Mami.”

“I’m gonna kiss you.”

“I won’t stop you.”

Spoils you with gifts

literally anything he could’ve possibly seen that you even might have liked

designer shoes to match with him (Nike Airs)

Matching jewellery as well, literally adores matching with you

gets you a chain with his name on it and one with yours for himself

whether you like silver or gold he gets you some premium shit

likes the look of white gold so that’s what he got himself

would do genuinely anything you want him 2

takes you to your fav nail tech to get you both done

he lets you choose the colours but makes sure to include purple with his own

after he takes you shopping,

you tell him off

he literally already bought you so much

knows what he’s doing tho

“Miles!”

“Aye, ma. C’mere.”

“We’re not going in there.”

“Yes we are.”

He settles his hands along your waist, turning you towards the boutique.

“Miles— It’s expensive in—,”

“I have an opening booked for us.”

His monotoned voice dragged in your ear, a shiver in its wake.

“Wha— C’mon!”

“Don’t pout at me, Mami. Might have to take you home.”

“I’m not pouting—“

“Hi.”

“Hello Mr.Morales, Right this way, Please.”

“Mr.Morales..?”

take you both to a boutique to get you clothes for the night

let’s you try on any dress you want

you try and pick the ones that don’t look too pricey

he catches on pretty quick and ends up picking the dresses for you to try himself

makes you show off for him

likes how you look in expensive shit and makes it known

“Damn, ma. Gonna have to buy that one for a later date..”

“Baby, no event is going to come up anytime soon that big enough for a dress like this.”

“I’m a patient man.”

ends up getting something that complements both your nails and the matching jewellery

also buys the matching shoes

he had a huge thing for seeing you in heels, but if you prefer flats he’ll make the workers find you something

gets a suit for himself

he’s been here before so they know his measurements.

gets a simple white blouse, with a dark grey set, a matching waist coat with it. And a black tie to go with the black buttons on the waist coat and cuffs.

doesn’t really bother with shoes

just figured he’s gonna wear his normal shit

when checking out, he makes sure to distract you with talk on what he plans for the night

adding tidbits that have both you and the store clerk blushing

the poor clerk just trying to ring you up

He leant over to whisper in your ear, rather loudly for someone “trying” to be discreet.

“Can’t wait to take you home, Chiquita. Seein’ you all dolled up for me? Jesus..”

“Oh my god.”

“That’ll be—“

“I got it.”

The clerk handed you the bags quickly before printing the receipt and going to rush off.

“Thank you, Have a nice day.”

Miles’ rumbling chuckle made your knees weaken.

“Yeah, we will.”

Takes you home to get ready,

touching you the whole time you do your make-up

whether it’d be a hand smoothing down your shoulders, massaging you while you worked

or his grip on the expanse of your waist

or even his nails raking down your back, watching the goose bumps rise as he did, infatuated

eventually you were both ready

and it was late

he took you to a high end restaurant, Electric Lemon it was called

and when you walked in greeted by his family, mingling with yours

you might have teared up a bit

“Chiquita? You ok?”

“Mmha..”

“If it’s too much we ca—“

“No, Miles, I love it. I love you—,”

You turned to him, the small smile gracing his lips a rare but gorgeous sight.

“This is perfect, thank you.”

“Love you too, Mi Cielo.”

“Oh (Name)! Feliz cumple! No es linda? Miles hizo increible!”

“Oh! [Name]! Happy Birthday! Isn’t this so nice? Miles did amazing!”

“Momma, Please—“

'Oh! Y Aaron era tan secreto sobre lo que era -'

“Oh! And Aaron was all secretive about what it was—,”

She leaned close to you, whispering “-así supe que toda fue para ti”

“,—so I knew it was for you.”

She smiled sweetly at you while you giggled back. Thanking her for coming to see you. She waved you off, walking you an Miles over to Aaron as she spoke.

“No, no me das gracias. Tu eres mi hija. Sería un crimen no venir.”

“No, Don’t thank me. You’re my daughter, it’d be a crime to not show up.”

You glanced over to Miles, seeing the sincerity behind his eyes when watching the two loves of his life interact so sweetly. You smiled back in turn.

He whisked you away from the party, after a while. Taking you to the more secluded parts of the rooftop. Completely devoid of life, he cradled your head to his and kissed you earnestly. Putting his Heart and Soul into loving you.

You giggled into his mouth, watching him smile back. You dragged your finger down the centre of his braids, something he’d come to love you doing. He pulled back from you, watching you smile up at him. His eyes shining with an endless love.

“Happy Birthday, [Name].”

—

he is so boyfriend coded

Pavitr Prabhakar:

will do similar to Miles, but not with breakfast in bed

will wake you up with flowers and kisses and an outfit he knew you liked set out for you

like i said in this, sleepy you makes him go insane

he’d let you sit with him a while whilst you woke up, and would smother you in love, whispering his praise to you

pulls you into his lap to look him in the eye while he confesses how much he loves you like it’s the first time all over again

“Thithli, you mean the world to me—,”

He massaged the flesh of your thighs, resting along his waist. He was flustered looking up to you, knowing you were there, with him, drove him farther head over heels.

“—You’re the love of my life, getting older with you is the greatest blessing of my life.”

“Pav.. baby..” You whined his name, waking up to such affections would be something you could never get used to.

“I’m so glad you exist with me, Shonu.”

You shoved you head into his neck, hiding your lovey-dovey smile from him.

“Love you, Pavitr..”

“Love you more, [Name].”

When you’ve woken up more

he coaxed you for a shower, taking care of you like the doting lover he is

pats you dry and helps you dress, then dresses himself

all while telling you how you make him whole, how you’re the reason he’s here and he’ll never be as happy as he is with you

it’s obsessive, but you’re just as bad

you tell him more in touches than in words, and he takes it in stride.

he’s come to know your love language, both of you sharing touch, but you take in the quality time trait as well

so he makes sure to drag the day out as long as he can

makes the morning slow, brings you his gifts and starts the food while you open them

he pets your cat and cooks, watching you out of the corner of his eye

He’d gotten you a set of bangles with small spiders engraved, crested in diamonds.

ones matching to the ones he wears

accompanied with a matching collar for your cat, which you smiled at

he’d also gotten you smaller, sentimental things likes references to your first dates, massage oils,

and things you’d said you liked in passing, that’d he’d remembered. because of course he had

he smiles when you shyly cover your mouth, looking down at the things he’d gifted with teary eyes

knowing how hard it is for you to accept gifts,

he doesn’t say anything, just turns the stove down and walks over to kiss you

“You okay, Jaanu?”

You looked up at him from the paper in your hands, nodding with a pout of your lips and a tremble in your voice.

“Yeah—, Yes, I’m good.”

He leant over to kiss your temple, smiling as he turned back to tend to the food, “Thank you, Pav.”

He glanced back over at you.

“My pleasure, Thithli.”

you lie in bed together for another two hours after you eat

just taking in each others prescience and letting the calming white noise of a distant show in the background soothe you

you hold him close, listening to his heart beat

when a song comes on he recognises and he sings to it softly, the contented sigh you let out is involuntary

he eventually gets you up again, since you’re already dressed, you feed your cat and leave

he walks you through the streets of his home, bringing you to his favourite spots

to feed the stray dogs with him, or to grip onto him and swing over the immense traffic

“Pav, If I fall, I’m blaming you.”

“Thithli, you won’t fall. I promise.”

“Okay.. But if I do—“ He grabbed your waist and hoisted you against him, shooting a web to a high building and swinging you up. Using his bangles to create more momentum and fluidity with his swings.

“Pavitr Prabhakar! I’m going to kill you!”

“Kiss me? Doesn’t really sound like a threat..”

“I swear—“

His sweetened laugh interrupted your spiel, and you couldn’t even be mad.

he eventually leads you back to his house

where your friends and family (his included), are waiting for you.

They greet you in tandem, with a cute, fairly out of sync “Surprise!”

the furniture in his house had been pushed into the far corners and the tiles of his family’s large lounging area had been made into a make-shift dance floor,

everything else being decorated in a very honest sense

and if there was a ache in your chest for the love you’d felt then, no one but you would know

all your spidery friends were there as well— only making the evening even more special

festivities shown were upbeat and exciting and you hadn’t felt more of a community than you had at that moment

When a lull in the upbeat songs play, and a slower, more set tone starts through the speakers—, Pavitr cuts in, taking you from Hobie, who shoots him off with a wink.

He holds you close, starting a slow dancing sway with you.

“How’re you finding it, Shonu?”

The lights dancing in your eyes make you evermore pretty to him.

“It’s—.. Its beautiful Pav, I’m so happy,”

People had started to sway with you, keeping the middle of the floor clean for you and your lover.

“,Thank you.”

“Only the best for you, [Name].”

You’d swayed with him for another minute before the end of the song had approached. Him twirling you out and catching you in a dip whilst you laughed and went along with it.

He brought you up into a quick, cheesy kiss.

“How romantic.”

“Cause I love you.”

Your voice quietened. “Love you more, Spidey.”

He stared at you a moment longer, placing a kiss along your temple once more.

“Happy Birthday, [Name].”

—

FOR MY BDAY GIRL @juneberrie 🥳🥳‼️

and ty to my lovely translator 🫶 @kissmxcheek

(PUT ME IN A CELL 💥💥⬇️)