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pucksandpower · 4 months ago

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Unfinished Business

Ghost!Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you arrive in Monaco expecting a once-in-a-lifetime vacation and you certainly get one — a fairytale romance with a Monegasque Prince … from the late 19th century

The gentle hum of a luxury sedan fades as you and your three best friends step out onto the sun-drenched streets of Monaco. The air is thick with anticipation and the salty tang of the Mediterranean. Your eyes widen as they trace the elegant facade of the Palais Grimaldi, its pale stone walls gleaming in the afternoon light.

“I still can’t believe we’re actually here,” Mia breathes, her voice tinged with awe. “An all-expenses-paid trip to Monaco? It feels like a dream.��

You nod, unable to tear your gaze from the intricate architecture. “It’s even more beautiful than the pictures,” you murmur.

Zoe hefts her designer luggage. “Well, ladies, shall we see if the inside is as impressive as the outside?”

As your group approaches the grand entrance, a smartly dressed concierge greets you with a warm smile. “Welcome to the Palais Grimaldi. You must be our contest winners. We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“That’s us!” Olivia chirps, practically bouncing with excitement. “I’m Olivia, and these are Mia, Zoe, and Y/N.”

The concierge, whose name tag reads ‘Philippe,’ bows slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your suite.”

As you trail behind Philippe through opulent hallways adorned with priceless art and glittering chandeliers, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve stepped into another world — or perhaps another time. The weight of history presses in around you, whispering secrets from centuries past.

“The Palais Grimaldi has quite a storied past,” Philippe explains as he leads you up a sweeping marble staircase. “It’s been home to Monaco’s ruling family for over 700 years.”

“700 years?” You echo, your mind reeling at the concept. “That’s incredible. Has it been a hotel for long?”

Philippe chuckles. “Oh no, mademoiselle. The palace only opened its doors to the public a few years ago. It’s still used for official state functions, but the family decided to share its beauty with the world.”

Mia leans in close, her voice low. “I bet these walls have seen some scandalous things over the centuries.”

“More than you can imagine,” Philippe says with a wink. “If these walls could talk ...”

As you reach the top of the stairs, a long corridor stretches before you, lined with ornate doors. Philippe stops before one and produces an old-fashioned key with a flourish. “Your suite, ladies.”

The door swings open, revealing a space that takes your breath away. Soaring ceilings, silk wallpaper, and antique furnishings create an atmosphere of timeless luxury.

“Holy. Crap.” Zoe’s usual composure cracks as she takes in the opulence. “This is insane.”

Olivia immediately flops onto one of the plush sofas. “I’m never leaving. You’ll have to drag me out kicking and screaming when the week is up.”

You wander to one of the tall windows, mesmerized by the view of the sparkling Mediterranean. “I can’t believe we get to stay here for a whole week.”

Philippe clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to settle in. Your luggage will be brought up shortly. Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything at all.”

As the door closes behind him, your friends erupt into excited chatter.

“Did you see the size of that bathroom?” Mia gushes. “The tub is practically a swimming pool!”

Zoe is already examining the ornate writing desk. “Look at this. It’s probably worth more than my entire apartment.”

You run your hand along the silk-covered walls, feeling a strange thrill as your fingers trace the intricate patterns. “It’s like stepping back in time,” you murmur.

Olivia bounces on the bed, giggling. “Well, I for one plan to enjoy every modern amenity this place has to offer. Who’s up for raiding the mini bar?”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a whirlwind of unpacking, exploring every nook and cranny of your suite, and planning your itinerary for the week ahead.

As evening falls, you find yourself drawn back to the window. The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of pink and gold. The principality below comes alive with twinkling lights, promising endless possibilities.

“Earth to Y/N!” Mia’s voice breaks through your reverie. “We’re thinking of heading down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. You in?”

You turn from the window, smiling at your friends. “Absolutely. Just let me freshen up a bit.”

In the bathroom, you splash some water on your face and reapply your lipstick. As you study your reflection in the ornate mirror, a strange sensation washes over you — almost as if someone is watching. You shake your head, dismissing the feeling as jetlag-induced imagination.

Rejoining your friends, you make your way down to the restaurant. The maître d’ leads you to a table with a stunning view of the moonlit gardens.

“I propose a toast,” Zoe says, raising her glass of champagne. “To friendship, adventure, and a week we’ll never forget!”

You clink glasses, the bubbles tickling your nose as you sip. As your friends chatter excitedly about their plans for tomorrow, your gaze drifts to the gardens below. For a moment, you could swear you see a figure in old-fashioned dress moving among the hedges. You blink, and the apparition vanishes.

“Y/N? Hello? Anyone home?” Olivia waves her hand in front of your face.

You snap back to attention. “Sorry, what?”

“I was asking what you wanted to do first tomorrow. Beach or shopping?”

You consider for a moment. “Actually, I was thinking about taking a tour of the palace. I’d love to learn more about its history.”

Mia grins. “Ooh, good call. Maybe we’ll run into a handsome prince.”

You laugh, but something in your chest flutters at the thought. “I don’t think that’s very likely.”

As the evening wears on and the wine flows freely, you find your thoughts continually drifting back to the palace and its centuries of secrets. By the time you return to your suite, a pleasant exhaustion has settled over you.

You bid your friends goodnight and curl up in your luxurious bed, the Egyptian cotton sheets cool against your skin. As you drift off to sleep, the last thing you see is the moonlight streaming through the window, casting ethereal shadows on the walls.

In your dreams, you wander the halls of the palace. Everything is hazy, like looking through frosted glass. You turn a corner and come face to face with a young man dressed in 19th-century finery. His eyes, a startling shade of green, seem to pierce right through you.

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no sound comes out. A profound sadness radiates from him, tugging at your heart. You reach out, wanting to comfort him, but your hand passes through him like smoke.

You jolt awake, heart racing. The room is bathed in the soft glow of pre-dawn light. You sit up, running a hand through your tousled hair.

“What was that?” You whisper to the empty room.

As the sun begins to peek over the horizon, you can’t shake the feeling that your dream was more than just a product of your imagination. Something about this place, about that mysterious figure, calls to you in a way you can’t explain.

You slip out of bed and pad to the window, watching as Monaco comes to life below. Whatever secrets the Palais Grimaldi holds, you’re determined to uncover them. Little do you know, this is just the beginning of an adventure that will change your life forever.

***

The Monégasque sun beats down relentlessly as you and your friends lounge by the hotel’s exclusive rooftop pool. The glittering Mediterranean stretches out before you, a canvas of blue punctuated by gleaming white yachts.

“Now this is what I call a vacation,” Mia sighs contentedly, adjusting her oversized sunglasses.

Zoe nods in agreement, not looking up from her book. “I could get used to this kind of luxury.”

You smile and close your eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of the sun and the gentle lapping of the pool water. But there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t shake off.

Olivia notices your furrowed brow. “Y/N, what’s up? You look like you’re solving world hunger over there.”

You hesitate, unsure how to explain the strange occurrences of the past few days. “It’s nothing, really. I just ... have you guys noticed anything weird happening in the palace?”

Mia perks up, always ready for gossip. “Weird how?”

“Well ...” you start, then falter. How can you describe the way your hairbrush moved across the dresser on its own? Or the whispers you heard in the empty library? “It’s going to sound crazy, but I think there might be something ... supernatural going on.”

There’s a moment of silence before Olivia bursts out laughing. “Supernatural? Come on, Y/N. I know you’ve always been into that ghost hunter stuff, but this is a five-star hotel, not a haunted house.”

Zoe looks up from her book, her expression skeptical. “Are you sure you’re not just jet-lagged? Or maybe it’s all that rich food we’ve been eating.”

You feel a flush creeping up your neck. “I know how it sounds, but I swear, strange things keep happening. Last night, I saw a man’s reflection in the mirror, but when I turned around, no one was there.”

Mia sits up, suddenly interested. “Ooh, was he hot?”

“Mia!” Zoe admonishes, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice.

You sigh, realizing how ridiculous you must sound. “Never mind. You’re probably right, it’s just my imagination running wild.”

But as the day wears on, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Every shadow seems to hold a secret, every creaking floorboard a whispered message.

That night, as your friends snore softly in their beds, you find yourself wide awake, staring at the ornate ceiling. The moonlight filtering through the curtains casts eerie shadows on the walls, and the silence of the night seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy.

Unable to bear it any longer, you slip out of bed and into a robe. Your bare feet are silent on the plush carpet as you make your way to the door. You pause, hand on the doorknob, heart racing. Are you really going to do this?

Taking a deep breath, you step out into the dimly lit hallway. The palace is different at night, the opulence muted, shadows deepening the corners. You walk aimlessly, letting your instincts guide you through the maze-like corridors.

As you round a corner, a chill runs down your spine. At the end of the hallway, you see a figure. It’s only for a split second before it vanishes around the next bend, but you’re certain it was the same man you saw in the mirror.

“Wait!” You call out, breaking into a run. You turn the corner, but the hallway is empty.

Breathing heavily, you lean against the wall. “I’m losing my mind,” you mutter to yourself.

“I can assure you, mademoiselle, that your mind is quite intact.”

You whirl around, heart leaping into your throat. There, standing before you, is the man from your dreams and glimpses.

He’s of average height, with wavy dark hair and piercing green eyes. His clothes are old-fashioned — a tailored suit that wouldn’t look out of place in the late 19th century. But the most shocking thing is that you can see right through him to the painting on the wall behind.

You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The ghost — because what else could he be — holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Please, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm.”

His voice is gentle, with a slight accent you can’t quite place. Despite your terror, you find yourself oddly calmed by his presence.

“Who ... what are you?” You manage to whisper.

The ghost bows slightly. “I am Prince Charles of Monaco, at your service. Or at least, I was Prince Charles. Now, I’m not entirely sure what I am.”

You blink, trying to process this information. “Prince Charles? But that’s impossible. The current Prince of Monaco is Albert.”

Charles smiles sadly. “You are correct. I’m afraid my time as prince was cut rather short. I died in 1894.”

“1894,” you repeat, feeling light-headed. “So you’re ... a ghost?”

“It would appear so, yes.” Charles looks down at his translucent hands. “Though I prefer to think of myself as ... temporarily disembodied.”

Despite the absurdity of the situation, you feel a laugh bubbling up in your chest. “Temporarily disembodied? That’s one way to put it.”

Charles’ eyes crinkle with amusement. “I find a touch of humor helps in most situations, even death.”

You shake your head, still struggling to believe what’s happening. “Why can I see you? Why now?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Charles admits. “I’ve been bound to this palace since my death, unable to move on. Most of the time, I’m invisible to the living. But occasionally, someone comes along who can perceive me. You, mon chérie, seem to be one of those rare individuals.”

You take a step closer, fascinated despite your lingering fear. “So all those strange things that have been happening ...”

“My apologies,” Charles says, looking sheepish. “I’m afraid I got a bit ... overeager when I realized you could sense me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Well, mission not accomplished,” you say dryly. “I’ve been terrified for days.”

Charles’ expression turns contrite. “I am truly sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to interact with anyone. I forgot how alarming it might be.”

You study him closely. Now that the initial shock has worn off, you’re struck by how young he looks — no older than his mid-twenties. And there’s a sadness in his eyes that tugs at your heart.

“How did you die?” You ask softly.

Charles’ face clouds over. “That, I’m afraid, is a rather long and complicated story. One that I’m not entirely sure I understand myself.”

You’re about to press further when a noise down the hallway makes you jump. Charles holds a finger to his lips and gestures for you to follow him. He leads you to a hidden door behind a tapestry, revealing a narrow servants’ staircase.

“Quick, in here,” he whispers.

You hesitate for a moment before ducking into the passageway. Charles follows, closing the door behind you. In the dim light filtering through cracks in the wall, you can barely make out his ghostly form.

“Why are we hiding?” You whisper.

“The night guards,” Charles explains. “They wouldn’t take kindly to a guest wandering the halls at this hour. And I’d rather not have to explain why you’re talking to thin air.”

You nod, seeing the logic. “So ... what now?”

Charles gives you a mischievous smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Well, since you’re already up and about, how would you like a private tour of the palace? I can show you things no living guide knows about.”

The sensible part of your brain is screaming that this is insane. You should go back to your room, crawl into bed, and pretend this was all a vivid dream. But the adventurous part of you, the part that’s always longed for magic and mystery, is practically buzzing with excitement.

“Lead the way, Your Highness,” you say with a grin.

Charles’ smile widens. “Please, call me Charles. I think we’re a bit beyond titles at this point.”

He starts up the narrow staircase, and you follow close behind. As you climb, Charles begins to speak in a low, melodious voice.

“This palace has been the heart of Monaco for centuries. Every stone, every timber holds a piece of history. There are secret passages like this one crisscrossing the entire building — escape routes, trysting spots for illicit lovers, hiding places for treasures.”

You emerge from the staircase into a small, circular room at the top of one of the palace towers. The view of Monaco at night is breathtaking, the city a glittering jewel box beneath a canopy of stars.

“Oh, wow,” you breathe, moving to the window.

Charles stands beside you, his presence cool but not unpleasant. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Even after all these years, it still takes my breath away. Well, metaphorically speaking.”

You turn to look at him, struck by the wistfulness in his voice. “It must be hard, watching the world change around you while you stay the same.”

Charles nods slowly. “It is ... challenging. But it has its compensations. I’ve witnessed history unfold, seen my beloved Monaco grow and flourish. And occasionally, I get to meet fascinating people like yourself.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and are grateful for the darkness. “I’m hardly fascinating compared to a ghost prince.”

“I beg to differ,” Charles says softly. “You saw me when no one else could. You followed me up here without hesitation. That takes a special kind of courage and openness to the extraordinary.”

For a moment, you’re lost in his intense gaze. Then you remember that he’s, well, dead, and clear your throat awkwardly. “So, um, what else can you show me?”

Charles seems to shake himself out of a reverie. “Ah, yes. Follow me. There’s so much to see.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur of hidden rooms, secret passages, and Charles’ stories. He tells you about the palace’s construction, about the triumphs and tragedies of the Grimaldi family, about the small, everyday moments that history books never record.

As the sky begins to lighten with the first hints of dawn, you find yourself back in the hallway near your suite. You’re exhausted but exhilarated, your mind whirling with everything you’ve seen and learned.

“I suppose I should let you get some rest,” Charles says, a note of reluctance in his voice.

You stifle a yawn. “I suppose so. My friends will be wondering where I am if I’m not there when they wake up.”

Charles nods, then hesitates. “I ... I hope this won’t be our last conversation. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone to talk to.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart. “Of course not. I still have so many questions. Like how you ended up ... you know.”

“Another time,” Charles promises. “For now, sleep well, Y/N.”

As you watch, his form begins to fade. Just before he disappears completely, you could swear you see him wink.

You slip back into your room, your mind racing. As you crawl into bed, you wonder how on earth you’re going to explain any of this to your friends. But one thing’s for certain — your vacation in Monaco just got a whole lot more interesting.

***

The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink. You stand on the balcony of your suite, outwardly admiring the view, but your mind is elsewhere. Your friends’ voices drift out from the room behind you.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Mia calls. “Are you coming to dinner or what?”

You turn, plastering on a smile. “Actually, I think I’ll skip it tonight. I’m not feeling very hungry.”

Zoe frowns, concern etching her features. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting strange all week.”

“I’m fine,” you assure her quickly. “Just ... taking in all the history of this place, you know?”

Olivia rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Only you would come to Monaco and spend all your time geeking out over old buildings instead of hitting the beach.”

You laugh, but it sounds forced even to your own ears. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”

As your friends file out of the room, Mia lingers behind. “Seriously, Y/N, is everything alright? You know you can talk to us about anything, right?”

For a moment, you’re tempted to spill everything. But how could you possibly explain Charles? “I’m fine, really,” you insist. “Go enjoy dinner. I’ll see you later.”

Once they’re gone, you wait a few minutes to ensure the coast is clear. Then you slip out into the hallway, your heart racing with anticipation.

You make your way to the library, which has become your usual meeting spot. As you enter, you see Charles materializing near the fireplace, a warm smile lighting up his translucent features.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he greets you, his voice as smooth and rich as aged whiskey. “I trust you’re well?”

You can’t help but smile back. “Better now,” you admit, then immediately feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “I mean, you know, because ... history and stuff.”

Charles chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah yes, the fascinating history and stuff. Shall we delve into more of it tonight?”

You nod eagerly. “What do you have in store for me this time?”

“I thought we might explore the east wing tonight,” Charles says, moving towards one of the bookshelves. “There’s a passage behind this Voltaire that leads to some rather interesting places.”

As he speaks, Charles reaches for the book, his hand passing right through it. A flicker of frustration crosses his face.

“Allow me,” you say softly, stepping forward to pull the book. The shelf swings open, revealing a narrow passageway.

Charles bows slightly. “After you, mademoiselle.”

You enter the passage, Charles’ cool presence right behind you. As you walk, he begins to speak, his voice low and melodious in the confined space.

“This passage was built during the reign of Prince Charles III — my grandfather,” he explains. “It was meant as an escape route in case of invasion. Monaco’s sovereignty was often threatened in those days.”

“But not anymore?” You ask, ducking under a low-hanging beam.

Charles sighs. “Monaco’s position is more secure now, but it wasn’t always so. In my time, we were constantly navigating a delicate balance between France and Italy, trying to maintain our independence.”

You emerge into a small, octagonal room with windows overlooking the sea. Moonlight streams in, casting everything in a silvery glow.

“This was my private study,” Charles says, a note of wistfulness in his voice. “I spent many hours here, dreaming of what Monaco could become.”

You turn to him, curious. “What kind of dreams?”

Charles’ eyes light up with passion. “I wanted to modernize Monaco, to bring it into the new century. We were so dependent on the casino for revenue — I wanted to diversify our economy, improve education, and implement new technologies.”

“That sounds incredibly progressive for the time,” you say, impressed.

Charles nods. “Some thought too progressive. There were those who resisted change, who wanted to cling to the old ways. But I believed — I still believe — that progress is essential for survival.”

As he speaks, you find yourself drawn in by his enthusiasm, his intelligence. This isn’t just some stuffy old royal — this is a man with vision, with dreams that were cut short far too soon.

“What stopped you?” You ask softly.

Charles’ expression clouds over. “Ah, well, dying tends to put a damper on one’s plans.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no,” Charles interrupts gently. “It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

An awkward silence falls. You move to the window, looking out at the moonlit sea. “It must be hard,” you say eventually. “Watching the world change around you, unable to participate.”

You feel Charles move closer, his presence cool at your side. “It has its challenges,” he admits. “But it also has its joys. I’ve seen Monaco grow and flourish in ways I never could have imagined. And now ...” He trails off.

You turn to look at him. “And now?”

Charles’ gaze is intense, making your heart race. “And now I have the pleasure of sharing it all with you.”

You swallow hard, acutely aware of how close he is, ghost or not. “I ... I’m glad,” you manage to say. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Charles.”

He smiles, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “Nor I you, Y/N. In life or in death.”

The moment stretches between you, charged with unspoken emotions. Then Charles clears his throat (do ghosts need to clear their throats?) and steps back.

“Come,” he says, his tone lighter. “There’s much more to see.”

The rest of the night passes in a whirlwind of secret rooms and hidden treasures. Charles shows you a concealed vault where the crown jewels were once kept, a forgotten ballroom with faded frescoes on the ceiling, even the old dungeons deep beneath the palace.

Throughout it all, Charles regales you with stories — some historical, some personal. You learn about the political intrigues of 19th century Monaco, about Charles’ childhood pranks, about the hopes and fears he had for his country’s future.

As dawn begins to break, you find yourself back in the library, reluctant for the night to end.

“I suppose I should let you get some rest,” Charles says, echoing his words from your first meeting.

You stifle a yawn. “I suppose so. But I don’t want to go.”

Charles’ expression softens. “Nor do I want you to. But your friends will worry if you’re not there when they wake.”

You sigh, knowing he’s right. “Will I see you tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be here,” Charles promises. “I’m not going anywhere, after all.”

As you watch him fade away, you’re struck by a realization that both thrills and terrifies you. You’re falling in love with a ghost.

The next few days pass in a blur. During the day, you go through the motions with your friends, trying to show enthusiasm for the beaches, the shops, the nightlife. But your mind is always elsewhere, counting down the hours until you can see Charles again.

Your friends notice, of course. How could they not?

“Okay, spill,” Mia demands one afternoon as you all lounge by the pool. “Who is he?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “What? Who’s who?”

Olivia rolls her eyes. “The guy you’re obviously sneaking out to meet every night. Don’t think we haven’t noticed you coming back to the room at dawn.”

“I ... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammer.

Zoe puts a hand on your arm. “Y/N, we’re your friends. You can tell us anything. We’re just worried about you.”

You look at their concerned faces and feel a pang of guilt. You hate lying to them, but how can you possibly explain the truth?

“It’s not ... it’s not what you think,” you say finally. “I’ve just been exploring the palace at night. It’s quieter then, easier to imagine what it was like in the past.”

Your friends exchange skeptical looks.

“Right,” Mia says slowly. “And this has nothing to do with the ‘supernatural occurrences’ you were going on about earlier?”

You force a laugh. “Of course not. That was just my imagination running wild. I’ve just been ... really into the history of this place, that’s all.”

Olivia shakes her head. “If you say so. But Y/N, this is supposed to be a fun vacation. Don’t spend the whole time with your nose in a history book, okay?”

You nod, grateful they’re not pushing further. “You’re right. I’ll try to be more present.”

But that night, as your friends sleep, you find yourself slipping out once again, drawn to Charles like a moth to a flame.

He’s waiting for you in the library, a book hovering open in front of him. As you enter, he looks up with a smile that makes your heart flutter.

“Ah, Y/N,” he says warmly. “I was just refreshing my memory on some of Monaco’s more obscure laws. Did you know it’s technically illegal to wear stiletto heels in the palace?”

You laugh, some of the tension from earlier melting away. “Seriously? Why?”

Charles grins. “Apparently, they damage the floors. It was enacted in 1898, four years after my ... departure. I always wonder about the story behind laws like that. What outrageous incident prompted such a specific prohibition?”

You settle into a nearby armchair, tucking your legs underneath you. “Maybe a scorned lover stabbed someone with a stiletto?”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “My, what a violent imagination you have. I was thinking more along the lines of a clumsy debutante wreaking havoc on the ballroom floor.”

“Boring,” you tease. “My version is much more exciting.”

Charles chuckles, the sound warming you from the inside out. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. Your mind is a constant source of fascination to me.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh? How so?”

Charles moves closer, his form shimmering slightly in the moonlight streaming through the windows. “You see the world in such a unique way. You’re not bound by the conventions and expectations of my time. It’s ... refreshing.”

“I could say the same about you,” you reply softly. “You’re nothing like I would have expected a 19th-century prince to be.”

Charles’ smile turns wry. “Ah, but I’ve had over a century to adapt and learn. Though I must admit, much of modern life still baffles me. Perhaps you could explain to me the appeal of this ‘Instagram’ your friends keep mentioning?”

You laugh, launching into an explanation of social media that leaves Charles looking both intrigued and mildly horrified. The conversation flows easily from there, jumping from topic to topic with the effortless rhythm you’ve come to cherish in your nightly meetings.

As the hours pass, you find yourself moving closer to Charles, drawn in by his warmth (metaphorical, of course — he’s actually quite cool to be near) and charm. You’re acutely aware of every movement, every fleeting expression that crosses his face.

At one point, Charles reaches out as if to touch your hand, then seems to catch himself, pulling back with a flicker of frustration crossing his features.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Sometimes I forget ...”

You swallow hard, your heart aching. “It’s okay. I ... I wish you could too.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with unspoken longing. Charles’ eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the impossibility of your situation crashes over you like a wave.

“Y/N,” Charles begins, his voice rough with emotion. “I-”

But before he can finish, a noise in the hallway makes you both freeze. Footsteps are approaching the library.

“Quick,” Charles whispers urgently. “Hide behind the curtain.”

You scramble to conceal yourself just as the door opens. Through a gap in the heavy fabric, you see a security guard sweep his flashlight around the room.

Your heart pounds in your chest as the beam of light passes inches from your hiding spot. After what feels like an eternity, the guard seems satisfied and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You wait a few more moments before emerging, your legs shaky with leftover adrenaline.

“That was close,” you breathe.

Charles nods, his form flickering with agitation. “Too close. Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting you in these situations. If you were caught ...”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, don’t say that. I don’t care about the risk. Being with you, learning about you and your time — it’s worth it.”

Charles’ expression softens, a mix of affection and sorrow in his eyes. “You’re extraordinary, do you know that? But I fear ... I fear I’m being selfish, keeping you to myself like this.”

You take a step closer to him, wishing more than anything that you could take his hand. “You’re not keeping me anywhere I don’t want to be.”

The words hang between you, charged with meaning. Charles opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it again, conflict clear on his face.

Finally, he says, “It’s nearly dawn. You should go, before your friends wake.”

You nod reluctantly, knowing he’s right but hating to leave. As you reach the door, you turn back to look at him one last time.

“Charles,” you say softly. “I ... I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

He smiles, but there’s a sadness in it that tugs at your heart. “I’ll be here. I’m always here.”

As you make your way back to your room, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. You’re falling hard and fast for a man who’s been dead for over a century.

It’s impossible, it’s insane, and yet ... you wouldn’t trade these moments with Charles for anything in the world.

But as you slip back into bed, the first rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains, a nagging doubt creeps in. How long can this go on? What happens when your vacation ends? And most troublingly of all — what aren’t you seeing in your infatuation with this charming ghost prince?

***

The musty scent of old books fills your nostrils as you hunch over a stack of historical tomes in the palace library. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. You’ve been here for hours, your friends long since departed for a day of sunbathing and shopping.

“Find anything interesting?” Charles’ voice makes you jump. You look up to see him materializing near the bookshelf, a curious expression on his translucent face.

You sigh, rubbing your tired eyes. “Nothing concrete yet. There’s frustratingly little information about your death in these official histories. It’s always just ‘Prince Charles died tragically young’ with no details.”

Charles moves closer, peering at the book you’re reading. “Ah, Gustave Saige’s ‘Monaco: Ses Origines et Son Histoire’. A rather dry read, if I recall correctly.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’re not wrong. But I thought it might have some clues.” You hesitate, then ask, “Charles, why don’t you just tell me what happened? How you ... died?”

A shadow passes over Charles’ face. “I wish I could. But the truth is, my memories of that time are ... fragmented. I remember tensions rising, arguments with the council, and then ... nothing. Just waking up like this, bound to the palace.”

You reach out instinctively to comfort him, your hand passing through his arm with a chill. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be.”

Charles gives you a sad smile. “It’s been my reality for over a century now. But I must admit, your determination to uncover the truth has given me hope I haven’t felt in a very long time.”

Your heart swells at his words, even as a pang of guilt hits you. Are you really doing this for Charles, or for yourself? The thought of him finding peace and moving on fills you with a complicated mix of emotions you’re not ready to examine too closely.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you turn back to your research. “Well, if these books aren’t giving us answers, maybe we need to look elsewhere. You mentioned arguments with the council. Were there records kept of those meetings?”

Charles’ brow furrows in concentration. “Yes, there would have been. Minutes were always taken. But they would have been considered sensitive documents. Not something you’d find in the public library.”

You lean forward, excitement building. “So where would they be kept?”

“There’s an archive room,” Charles says slowly. “Hidden behind the throne room. It’s where the most confidential state papers were stored.”

You’re already on your feet, shoving books back onto shelves. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Charles holds up a ghostly hand. “Not so fast, Y/N. That room has been sealed for decades. It’s not somewhere a tourist can just wander into.”

You deflate slightly, but your determination doesn’t waver. “Then we’ll have to find a way in after hours. You can get me there, right?”

Charles looks conflicted. “I could, but Y/N, if you were caught ...”

“I won’t be,” you insist. “Please, Charles. This might be our only chance to find out what really happened to you.”

For a long moment, Charles studies your face. Then he sighs, a sound tinged with both resignation and admiration. “Very well. Meet me here at midnight. I’ll show you the way.”

The hours crawl by as you wait for night to fall. You make a show of going to bed early, claiming a headache to avoid your friends’ plans for a night out. As the clock strikes twelve, you slip out of your room and make your way to the library.

Charles is waiting for you, his form glowing faintly in the moonlight. “Are you sure about this?” He asks one last time.

You nod firmly. “Let’s do it.”

Charles leads you through a maze of corridors and hidden passages. Your heart races with every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that might be a security guard. Finally, you arrive at an ornate door hidden behind a tapestry.

“This is it,” Charles whispers. “The archive room.”

You reach for the handle, but it’s locked. “Damn,” you mutter. “Any ideas?”

Charles frowns, concentrating. “There used to be a spare key ... ah!” He points to a small crevice in the intricate woodwork. “Try there.”

You feel around and, to your amazement, your fingers close around a small key. With trembling hands, you insert it into the lock. It turns with a satisfying click.

The door swings open, revealing a room packed floor to ceiling with shelves of documents. The air is thick with dust and the smell of old paper.

“Where do we even start?” You whisper, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information.

Charles moves to a section near the back. “The council records from my time should be here. Look for anything dated 1894.”

You begin sifting through stacks of yellowed papers, careful not to damage the fragile documents. Minutes pass in tense silence as you search.

Suddenly, Charles’ voice cuts through the quiet. “Y/N, over here. I think I’ve found something.”

You hurry to his side. He’s pointing at a leather-bound ledger. You carefully open it, coughing slightly at the dust it raises.

As you scan the pages, your eyes widen. “Charles, this ... this is incredible. It’s a record of council meetings leading up to your death. Look at this entry from two weeks before: ‘Prince Charles continues to push for radical reforms. Concerns raised about stability of the principality if plans proceed.’”

Charles leans in, his face a mix of emotions. “I remember that meeting. It was ... heated. Keep reading.”

You flip through more pages, your heart pounding as the story unfolds. “There’s more. ‘Prince’s proposed changes to casino regulations deemed unacceptable. Alternative measures must be considered.’ Charles, this sounds like ...”

“A conspiracy,” Charles finishes, his voice hollow. “They were plotting against me.”

You reach the final entry, dated the day before Charles’ death. Your blood runs cold as you read it aloud. “Situation untenable. Drastic action required to preserve Monaco’s interests. God forgive us.”

A heavy silence falls over the room as the implications sink in. Charles turns away, his form flickering with agitation.

“They killed me,” he says softly. “My own council ... they murdered me to stop my reforms.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes. “Charles, I’m so sorry. This is ... it’s unthinkable.”

Charles is quiet for a long moment, then turns back to you with a determined expression. “We need to take this ledger. The truth needs to come out, even after all this time.”

You nod, carefully closing the book and tucking it into your bag. As you do, something catches your eye. “Wait, there’s something else here.”

Behind where the ledger was sitting, you spot a small leather pouch. You open it carefully, gasping as several folded papers and a small object fall out.

“What is it?” Charles asks, moving closer.

You unfold one of the papers with trembling hands. “It’s ... it’s a letter. From you.” You begin to read aloud:

“To whoever finds this, I fear my time may be short. I write this in haste, knowing that forces within Monaco seek to silence me. My efforts to modernize our beloved principality and free us from our dependence on gambling have made me enemies in powerful places. If anything should happen to me, know that it was not an accident. The proof of their treachery is contained within these documents and the vial of poison they intend to use. I pray this never sees the light of day, but if it does, may it bring justice and push Monaco towards the future I envisioned.”

You look up at Charles, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. “You knew. You tried to protect yourself.”

Charles nods slowly, his own eyes shimmering with ghostly tears. “I ... I remember now. I wrote this the night before ... before it happened. I must have hidden it here, hoping someone would find it.”

You carefully gather up the documents and the small vial, adding them to your bag with the ledger. “We have to make this public, Charles. Your murder, the cover-up ... people need to know the truth.”

Charles looks at you with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “You’re right, of course. But Y/N, you must understand what this means. If the truth comes out, if justice is served ...”

“You might be able to move on,” you finish, your voice barely a whisper. The thought sends a dagger through your heart, but you force yourself to continue. “That’s ... that’s a good thing, right? It’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time.”

Charles moves closer, his hand hovering near your cheek as if he could wipe away your tears. “It is. But I find myself reluctant to leave, now that I’ve found something — someone — worth staying for.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Charles, I ...”

Before you can finish, a noise in the hallway makes you both freeze. Footsteps are approaching.

“Quick,” Charles whispers urgently. “Behind that cabinet.”

You scramble to hide, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure it must be audible. The door to the archive room creaks open, and a beam of light sweeps across the space.

“Hello?” A gruff voice calls out. “Is someone in here?”

You hold your breath, pressing yourself further into the shadows. After what feels like an eternity, the guard seems satisfied and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You wait a few more moments before emerging from your hiding spot, legs shaky with adrenaline.

“That was too close,” Charles says, his form flickering with agitation. “We need to get you out of here.”

You nod, clutching your bag with its precious cargo close to your chest. “How do we get back?”

Charles leads you to a hidden panel in the wall. “This passage will take you directly to the guest wing. Hurry, before the guard comes back.”

As you step into the secret corridor, you turn back to look at Charles. “What happens now?” You ask softly.

Charles’ expression is a complex mix of emotions — hope, fear, sadness, and something that looks a lot like love. “Now, mon chérie, we bring the truth to light. Whatever comes after ... we’ll face it together.”

You nod, your throat tight with unshed tears. As you make your way back to your room, your mind races with the implications of what you’ve discovered. You’ve found the key to setting Charles free, to bringing him the peace he’s been denied for over a century.

But as you clutch the bag containing the proof of his murder, you can’t help but wonder: at what cost? The thought of losing Charles, of never seeing his smile or hearing his laugh again, fills you with a grief so profound it takes your breath away.

As you slip back into your bed, the first rays of dawn peeking through the curtains, you know that the hardest part of your journey is yet to come. You’ve uncovered the truth, but now you face an impossible choice: keep Charles with you in this half-life or set him free and lose him forever.

***

The golden light of a Monaco sunset streams through the windows of your hotel suite, casting long shadows across the room. You stand before the mirror, adjusting the elaborate 19th-century gown you’ve rented for the evening’s ball. Your fingers tremble slightly as you fasten a delicate necklace, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“You look absolutely stunning,” Charles’ voice comes from behind you. You turn to see him materializing near the balcony, his eyes wide with admiration.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your heart aching at the sight of him. “I wish you could really be there tonight, dancing with me.”

Charles moves closer, his form shimmering in the fading sunlight. “As do I, ma chérie. But I’ll be with you in spirit, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as tears prick at your eyes. “Always with the jokes, even now.”

“Well, one must maintain one’s sense of humor, even in the face of ... impending departure,” Charles says, his light tone belied by the sadness in his eyes.

The word hangs heavy between you. Departure. In just two days, you’ll be leaving Monaco, returning to your life back home. The thought fills you with a grief so profound it’s almost physical.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” you blurt out, the words escaping before you can stop them. “I could stay. I could find a job here, an apartment. We could-”

“Y/N,” Charles interrupts gently, “we’ve discussed this. You can’t put your life on hold for a ghost.”

You turn away, blinking back tears. “But what if I want to? What if being here, with you, is the life I want?”

Charles is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. “My dearest Y/N, you cannot imagine how much I wish things could be different. But I am tied to this place, to this half-existence. You have a whole life ahead of you, full of possibilities and adventures. I won’t let you sacrifice that for me.”

You whirl back to face him, frustration bubbling up. “Shouldn’t that be my choice to make?”

“Perhaps,” Charles concedes. “But it is also my choice to refuse to be the anchor that holds you back. You deserve so much more than stolen moments with a specter.”

The truth of his words cuts deep, even as you want to rail against them. You slump onto the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling the weight of your elaborate costume.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper.

Charles moves to sit beside you, the mattress not even dipping under his non-existent weight. “Nor I you. But perhaps ... perhaps this is why we found each other. Not for a lifetime, but for this moment. To bring truth to light, to right an old wrong, and to experience a love that transcends time itself.”

You look up at him, struck by the depth of emotion in his ghostly eyes. “When did you get so wise?”

Charles grins, a hint of his usual mischief returning. “Well, I have had over a century to work on my philosophical musings.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as a tear escapes down your cheek. Charles reaches out, his hand hovering just above your skin in a gesture of comfort.

“Come now,” he says gently. “Let’s not waste our last evening together in sorrow. You have a ball to attend, and I, for one, am eager to see how the modern world interprets the grandeur of my era.”

You nod, standing and giving yourself one last look in the mirror. “You’re right. Let’s make tonight a night to remember.”

As you make your way down to the grand ballroom, you can feel Charles’ presence beside you, a comforting coolness in the warm evening air. The sounds of music and laughter grow louder as you approach.

You pause at the entrance, taking in the transformed space. The ballroom has been decorated to recreate its 19th-century splendor, with crystal chandeliers, elaborate floral arrangements, and guests in period costumes whirling across the dance floor.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“Indeed,” Charles agrees, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Though I must say, some of these costumes are rather ... creative interpretations of the fashion of my time.”

You stifle a giggle as you spot a guest in what appears to be a mash-up of Victorian and Edwardian styles. “Well, not everyone can have a ghostly fashion consultant.”

You make your way into the crowd, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Your friends spot you and wave enthusiastically.

“Y/N! Over here!” Mia calls out. “You look amazing!”

You join them, smiling as you take in their costumes. “You all look great too. Are you enjoying the ball?”

Zoe nods enthusiastically. “It’s like stepping back in time. Can you imagine living in an era like this?”

You feel Charles’ amusement radiating beside you. “Oh, I don’t know,” you say airily. “I think it might have its charms.”

As the evening progresses, you find yourself swept up in the festivities. You dance with several partners, all the while acutely aware of Charles’ presence, watching from the sidelines.

During a lull in the music, you manage to slip away from the crowd, finding a secluded alcove near one of the large windows.

“Having fun?” Charles asks, materializing beside you.

You nod, a bit breathless from dancing. “It’s wonderful. But I wish ...”

“You wish I could truly be here,” Charles finishes for you. He holds out his hand in an old-fashioned gesture. “Well, my lady, may I have this dance?”

You glance around, making sure no one is watching, then place your hand over his incorporeal one. As the music starts up again, a slow, romantic waltz, you begin to move together.

It’s a strange sensation, dancing with a ghost. You can’t feel Charles’ hand on your waist or his fingers intertwined with yours, but somehow, you move in perfect synchronization. For a few precious moments, it’s as if the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you, swaying to the music.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Charles’ eyes widen, then soften with an emotion so deep it takes your breath away. “And I love you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible.”

As you gaze into each other’s eyes, lost in the moment, a sudden chill sweeps through the room. The lights flicker, and a murmur of confusion ripples through the crowd.

Charles stiffens, his form becoming more translucent. “Something’s wrong,” he mutters, looking around warily.

Before you can ask what he means, a commotion breaks out near the center of the ballroom. Guests are backing away from a spot on the dance floor, pointing and gasping in shock.

You push your way through the crowd, Charles right behind you. As you reach the cleared space, your blood runs cold. Three ghostly figures have appeared, dressed in outdated formal wear, their faces contorted with rage and fear.

“Impossible,” Charles breathes beside you. “It’s them. The council members who ... who murdered me.”

As if hearing his words, the three ghosts turn towards you. Their eyes widen in recognition as they spot Charles.

“You!” One of them snarls, his voice echoing unnaturally in the stunned silence of the ballroom. “How are you here?”

Charles steps forward, his own form becoming more visible to the shocked onlookers. “I could ask you the same question, Lord Beaumont. Or should I say, murderer?”

A collective gasp runs through the crowd. Hotel staff are rushing about, trying to maintain order, but everyone’s attention is fixed on the supernatural drama unfolding before them.

“We did what was necessary,” another ghost, a portly man with a walrus mustache, blusters. “You would have ruined Monaco with your radical ideas!”

“Ruined?” Charles’ voice rises in indignation. “I was trying to save our principality, to secure its future beyond the whims of fortune and gambling!”

The third ghost, a thin man with a pinched face, sneers. “And in doing so, you would have destroyed the very thing that made Monaco unique. We couldn’t allow it.”

You find your voice, anger overcoming your fear. “So you murdered him? Your own prince?”

The ghosts turn their baleful gazes on you. “And who are you to question the affairs of state from a century past?” Lord Beaumont demands.

“She,” Charles says, moving to stand beside you, “is the one who uncovered your treachery. The proof of your crimes has been found.”

A murmur runs through the crowd. You see hotel management huddled in a corner, speaking urgently into phones. In the distance, you can hear police sirens approaching.

“It doesn’t matter now,” the portly ghost says dismissively. “We’re long dead, beyond the reach of earthly justice.”

“Perhaps,” you counter, your voice stronger than you feel. “But the truth will be known. History will remember Prince Charles as the visionary he was, and you as the small-minded murderers who cut his life short.”

As you speak, a strange energy begins to build in the room. The three ghosts start to flicker, their forms becoming less substantial.

“What’s happening?” The thin ghost cries out, panic in his voice.

Charles steps forward, his expression a mix of pity and righteousness. “You’re facing judgment at last, gentlemen. Your unfinished business is complete. The truth is out.”

With a howl of despair, the three ghosts begin to fade away. In moments, they’ve vanished completely, leaving behind a stunned silence.

As the implications of what’s just happened sink in, chaos erupts in the ballroom. People are shouting, phones are out recording, and security is trying desperately to maintain order.

But you only have eyes for Charles. His form is starting to shimmer, becoming more translucent by the second.

“Charles,” you gasp, reaching for him. “What’s happening? Are you ...”

He looks down at his fading hands, then back up at you with a sad smile. “It seems my unfinished business is complete as well. The truth is out, justice, in some form, has been served.”

“No,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Please, not yet. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

Charles moves closer, his hand hovering just above your cheek. “My dearest Y/N, meeting you has been the greatest gift. You’ve brought light to my long darkness, and given me peace I never thought I’d find.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you sob, your heart breaking.

“Nor do I wish to leave you,” Charles says softly. “But perhaps this isn’t truly goodbye. I don’t know what lies beyond, but I do know this — a love like ours transcends time and death itself. Somehow, someway, I believe we’ll find each other again.”

You manage a watery smile. “You promise?”

“I swear it,” Charles vows. He leans in, and for the briefest moment, you swear you can feel the ghost of a kiss on your lips. “Until we meet again, mon amour.”

And with that, Charles fades away completely, leaving behind nothing but a lingering chill in the air and the memory of a love that defied all boundaries.

As the commotion swirls around you, police and hotel management trying to make sense of what’s happened, you stand still in the center of it all. Your heart is breaking, but there’s also a sense of peace, of completion.

You touch your lips, still feeling the echo of that impossible kiss, and whisper to the empty air, “Until we meet again, Charles.”

In that moment, surrounded by the trappings of a bygone era and the chaos of the present, you know that your life has been forever changed. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it with the strength and love Charles gave you, carrying his memory in your heart until, somehow, someway, you find each other once more.

***

The Mediterranean sun bathes Monaco in a warm glow as you climb the steps to the Palais Grimaldi. Five years have passed since that fateful summer, but your heart still quickens as you approach the familiar facade. You adjust the strap of your messenger bag, filled with research materials for your graduate thesis on 19th-century Monégasque politics.

As you enter the palace, now partly converted into a museum, you’re struck by how much has changed. Plaques and displays line the halls, detailing the history of the Grimaldi family. But your eyes are drawn to a new addition: a whole wing dedicated to Prince Charles and his progressive vision for Monaco.

You pause before a large portrait of Charles, your breath catching in your throat. The artist has captured his piercing green eyes perfectly, that hint of mischief in his smile that you remember so well.

“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” A voice beside you says, startling you from your reverie. “How much history these walls have seen.”

You turn, a polite response on your lips, but the words die in your throat. Standing next to you is a young man who could be Charles’ twin. The same wavy dark hair, the same chiseled jawline, and most strikingly, those same intense green eyes.

For a moment, you forget how to breathe. “Charles?” You whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

The young man looks at you curiously, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, yes, but I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Have we met before?”

You blink rapidly, reality reasserting itself. Of course this isn’t your Charles. It can’t be. You clear your throat, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, you just ... you look remarkably like someone I used to know. I’m Y/N.”

The young man’s smile widens, and he holds out his hand. “Charles Leclerc. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

You shake his hand, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that runs through you at his touch. “Leclerc? As in the Formula 1 driver?”

Charles nods, looking slightly sheepish. “The very same. Though today I’m just a tourist like anyone else, enjoying a bit of home between races.”

“Home?” You ask, intrigued despite yourself.

“Born and raised in Monaco,” Charles explains. “Though I admit, I haven’t spent as much time in the palace as I perhaps should have. It’s quite fascinating, especially this new exhibit.”

You nod, turning back to the portrait of Prince Charles. “It really is. The prince was quite a remarkable figure. His ideas were so ahead of their time.”

Charles steps closer, studying the portrait. “You seem to know a lot about him. Are you a historian?”

“A graduate student,” you explain. “I’m here on a research grant, studying 19th-century Monégasque politics at the International University of Monaco.”

Charles’ eyes light up with interest. “Really? That sounds fascinating. I’ve always been interested in history, especially the history of Monaco. It’s a small place, but it’s played such an outsized role in European affairs.”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “It really has. Prince Charles, in particular, had some revolutionary ideas about diversifying Monaco’s economy beyond just gambling. If he hadn’t died so young, who knows how things might have turned out?”

A shadow passes over Charles’ face. “Yes, his death was quite tragic. And mysterious, from what I understand. Wasn’t there some recent discovery about the circumstances?”

You nod, your heart racing as you remember that night five years ago. “Yes, documents were found that suggested he was actually assassinated by members of his own council who opposed his reforms.”

Charles shakes his head, looking troubled. “How terrible. To be betrayed by those closest to you, all for wanting to make positive changes.”

“It was a different time,” you say softly. “Change is always frightening to those in power.”

Charles nods thoughtfully. “True, but it’s also necessary for growth. Monaco has come a long way since then, but I sometimes wonder if we couldn’t be doing more to realize Prince Charles’ vision.”

You look at him in surprise. “That’s ... that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking in my research. The prince had ideas about sustainable development and diversifying the economy that are still relevant today.”

Charles grins, and for a moment, the resemblance to your Charles is so strong it takes your breath away. “Great minds think alike, it seems. You know, I’ve been looking for ways to use my platform as an athlete to promote positive change in Monaco. Perhaps we could compare notes sometime?”

Your heart skips a beat. “I’d like that,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m always happy to discuss history with someone who’s genuinely interested.”

“Excellent,” Charles says, pulling out his phone. “Why don’t we exchange numbers? We could meet for coffee and continue this conversation.”

As you input your number into his phone, you can’t help but notice a small charm dangling from it — a miniature racing helmet. “That’s cute,” you comment.

Charles looks at it and chuckles. “Ah, yes. It was a gift from my mother. She says it’s for luck, but I think she just worries about me on the track.”

The casual mention of his mother sends a pang through your heart. This Charles is very much alive, with a family and a life of his own. You have to remind yourself that he’s not the same person you knew, no matter how similar he might seem.

“Well, it seems to be working,” you say lightly. “You’ve had quite a successful season so far. Won your home race, if I’m not mistaken.”

Charles looks pleased. “You follow Formula 1?”

You shake your head. “Not really, but it’s hard to miss the news when you’re living in Monaco. The Grand Prix is quite an event.”

“That it is,” Charles agrees. “You know, if you’re interested, I could give you a behind-the-scenes tour of the circuit sometime. It’s quite fascinating from a historical perspective as well. The race has been run on essentially the same streets since 1929.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Are you always this charming with strangers you meet in museums?”

Charles grins, a mischievous glint in his eye that’s achingly familiar. “Only the ones who can discuss 19th-century political reform with such passion.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Well, in that case, how can I refuse? A tour sounds lovely.”

As you continue to chat, moving through the exhibit, you’re struck by how easy it is to talk to Charles. He’s knowledgeable and curious, asking insightful questions about your research and offering his own perspectives on Monaco’s history and future.

At one point, you pause before a display showcasing some of Prince Charles’ personal effects. Among them is a small, ornate pocket watch.

“Beautiful craftsmanship,” Charles comments, leaning in for a closer look.

You nod, a lump forming in your throat as you remember your Charles checking a similar watch during your midnight explorations. “It’s a shame it’s not working anymore.”

Charles tilts his head, studying the watch intently. “Actually, I think it is. Look closely at the second hand.”

You peer into the display case, and to your amazement, you see the tiny hand ticking away steadily. “You’re right! How did you notice that?”

Charles shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’ve always had a thing for timepieces. Comes with the racing territory, I suppose. Hundreths of a second are everything on the track.”

You shake your head in wonder. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I try to keep things interesting,” Charles says with a wink. Then his expression turns more serious. “You know, it’s strange. Being here, learning about Prince Charles ... I feel an odd connection to him. Almost as if I knew him somehow.”

Your heart races at his words. Could it be possible? You push the thought away, reminding yourself that such things only happen in fairy tales. “Well, he is your ancestor, in a way. All Monégasques are connected to the Grimaldi family, aren’t they?”

Charles nods slowly. “True, but this feels different. When I look at his portrait, it’s almost like looking in a mirror. And his ideas, his passion for progress ... it resonates with me in a way I can’t quite explain.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Maybe some things are just meant to be. Some connections transcend time.”

Charles looks at you intently, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. It’s a comforting thought, isn’t it? That the past isn’t really gone, just ... waiting to be rediscovered.”

You’re saved from having to respond by the chiming of the palace clock, signaling the approach of closing time.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late,” you say, glancing at your watch. “I should probably get going. I have a meeting with my advisor in the morning.”

Charles nods, looking slightly disappointed. “Of course. But we’re still on for that coffee and circuit tour, right?”

You smile, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest. “Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Charles touches your arm lightly. “Y/N, I know this might sound strange, but ... I feel like we were meant to meet today. Like some force in the universe brought us together.”

You look into his eyes, so familiar and yet new, and feel a spark of hope ignite in your heart. “I know exactly what you mean.”

He smiles, and in that moment, you see not just the Charles of the present, but echoes of the Charles you knew and loved. “Until we meet again, then?”

The phrase, so similar to your Charles’ last words, sends a shiver down your spine. “Until then,” you agree softly.

As you walk out of the palace and into the warm Monaco evening, your mind is whirling. You can’t shake the feeling that something extraordinary has happened, that a promise made long ago is somehow being fulfilled.

You pause at the top of the steps, looking back at the palace that has played such a pivotal role in your life. As the setting sun gilds the stone facade, you allow yourself to imagine, just for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, some loves really are strong enough to transcend time and death itself.

With a smile on your face and hope in your heart, you descend the steps, ready to embrace whatever new adventure awaits. After all, in a world where ghosts can fall in love and centuries-old mysteries can be solved, anything seems possible.

And, as the promise of a new beginning beckons, you can’t help but feel that the best chapters of your story are yet to be written.

***

The sun-drenched streets of Monaco buzz with excitement as Sofia, a die-hard Scuderia Ferrari fan, makes her way towards the Palais Grimaldi. Her red Ferrari cap and matching team shirt make her stand out among the tourists, but she doesn’t mind. She’s here on a mission: to soak up every bit of Monaco’s rich racing history.

As Sofia enters the palace-turned-museum, her eyes widen in awe at the opulent surroundings. “Wow,” she breathes, spinning slowly to take it all in. “Talk about living like royalty.”

She wanders through the exhibits, pausing occasionally to read plaques or admire artifacts. But her mind keeps drifting to thoughts of sleek racing cars and the roar of engines. That is, until she rounds a corner and comes face to face with a large portrait that stops her in her tracks.

“No way,” Sofia mutters, stepping closer to the painting. Her brow furrows as she studies the face of the young prince depicted. “That’s ... that’s impossible.”

Just then, a tour group passes by, led by an enthusiastic guide. Sofia catches snippets of the commentary.

“... Prince Charles, one of Monaco’s most progressive rulers ...”

“... tragically died young under mysterious circumstances ...”

“... recent discoveries suggest he may have been assassinated ...”

Sofia’s head is spinning. She pulls out her phone, quickly pulling up a photo of Charles Leclerc, her favorite driver. She holds it up next to the portrait, her jaw dropping at the uncanny resemblance.

“Excuse me,” she says, tapping the tour guide on the shoulder. “This Prince Charles, when exactly did he live?”

The guide smiles, always happy to share historical tidbits. “Prince Charles ruled briefly in the late 19th century. He died in 1894 at the young age of 26.”

Sofia’s mind races. “And has anyone ever noticed how much he looks like Charles Leclerc? The F1 driver?”

The guide’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Ah, you’re not the first to notice that similarity. It’s become quite a popular topic of discussion lately. Some even joke that Leclerc is the prince reincarnated.”

Sofia laughs nervously. “Right, of course. Just a coincidence, I’m sure.”

As the tour moves on, Sofia remains rooted to the spot, her eyes darting between her phone and the portrait. It’s more than just a passing resemblance. The shape of the eyes, the curve of the jaw, even the hint of a mischievous smile — it’s all pure Leclerc.

Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice someone approaching until a voice beside her says, “Fascinating portrait, isn’t it?”

Sofia jumps, turning to see a young woman standing next to her. The newcomer is dressed casually in a flowing sundress, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

“Oh, um, yes,” Sofia stammers. “It’s quite ... striking.”

The woman smiles knowingly. “Let me guess. You couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to a certain Formula 1 driver?”

Sofia’s eyes widen. “You see it too? I thought I was going crazy!”

The woman laughs, a warm, genuine sound. “Trust me, you’re not crazy. I’m Y/N, by the way. I’m doing some research here for my graduate thesis.”

“Sofia,” she replies, shaking your hand. “So, what’s the deal? Is Leclerc secretly a time-traveling prince or something?”

You chuckle, but there’s a strange look in your eyes that Sofia can’t quite decipher. “I’m afraid the explanation is probably much more mundane. Many Monégasques have some connection to the Grimaldi family. It’s likely just a case of strong genes persisting through the generations.”

Sofia nods, but she’s not entirely convinced. There’s something about the way you’re looking at the portrait, a mix of fondness and melancholy, that piques her curiosity.

“You seem to know a lot about this,” Sofia probes gently. “Are you a big history buff?”

You smile, turning away from the portrait. “You could say that. I’ve been studying Prince Charles and his era for my thesis. It’s a fascinating period in Monaco’s history.”

Sofia’s about to ask more when she notices someone approaching over your shoulder. Her eyes go wide, and she has to stifle a gasp.

You turn to see what’s caught her attention, and your face lights up. “Charles! I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Sofia’s jaw drops as Charles Leclerc himself joins you, greeting you with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. He’s dressed casually in jeans and an oversized hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, but there’s no mistaking that face — especially not when it’s right next to the portrait of his doppelganger.

“I had some free time between meetings and thought I’d stop by,” Charles explains. “How’s the research going?”

You launch into an explanation of your latest findings, and Sofia watches in fascination as Charles listens intently, asking insightful questions and offering his own thoughts. It’s clear this is far from the first time they’ve discussed the topic.

Finally, Charles seems to notice Sofia’s presence. “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Sofia manages to close her mouth, which had been hanging open in shock. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m Sofia. I’m a huge fan, Mr. Leclerc.”

Charles grins, shaking her hand. “Please, call me Charles. Always nice to meet a tifosa.”

Sofia gestures weakly to the portrait. “I was just ... I mean ... has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like ...”

Charles and you exchange a look that Sofia can’t quite interpret. Then Charles turns back to her with a wry smile. “Once or twice, yes. It’s quite the coincidence, isn’t it?”

Sofia nods, still feeling like she’s stepped into some kind of twilight zone. “Coincidence. Right.”

You clear your throat, seemingly eager to change the subject. “So, Sofia, are you here on vacation?”

Grateful for the change of topic, Sofia launches into an enthusiastic description of her plans for the next week. As they chat, she can’t help but notice the way Charles and you interact — the casual touches, the inside jokes, the way your eyes continually find each other. There’s clearly a deep connection there.

At one point, Charles excuses himself to take a phone call. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Sofia turns to you with wide eyes. “Okay, you have to tell me. What’s the real story here? How long have you two been together?”

You laugh, a slight blush coloring your cheeks. “Is it that obvious? We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now. We met right here, actually, in front of this very portrait.”

Sofia’s romantic heart melts a little at that. “That’s so sweet! But come on, you have to admit, the resemblance is freaky. And the way you two were talking about history ... it’s like he lived it or something.”

You get that strange look in your eyes again, a mix of secrecy and wonder. “Charles has always had a deep connection to Monaco’s past. It’s one of the things that drew us together.”

Sofia’s about to press for more details when Charles returns, slipping his arm around your waist with casual familiarity.

“I hate to cut this short,” he says apologetically, “but I’ve got to run to a sponsor meeting. Y/N, we’re still on for dinner tonight?”

You nod, smiling up at him. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll see you at eight.”

As Charles says his goodbyes and leaves, Sofia watches him go with a mix of admiration and lingering confusion. She turns back to you, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

“Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy,” Sofia starts, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “but is there any chance ... I mean, has anyone ever considered the possibility that Charles might be, I don’t know, the reincarnation of Prince Charles or something?”

You pause for a long moment, and Sofia holds her breath, half-expecting you to laugh in her face. But instead, you give her a small, enigmatic smile.

“The universe works in mysterious ways,” you say softly. “Sometimes, the past has a way of coming back to us in forms we least expect. Who’s to say what’s possible and what isn’t?”

Sofia’s mind reels at the implications. “So you’re saying ...”

You hold up a hand, your expression turning more serious. “I’m not saying anything definitively. But I will say this: getting to know Charles — the Charles of today — has been like rediscovering a part of history I thought was lost forever. Whether that’s due to reincarnation, cosmic coincidence, or just the magic of human connection, I can’t say for sure. But I do know that it feels like a second chance at something extraordinary.”

Sofia listens, enthralled. It’s like something out of a movie or a romance novel. “That’s ... wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

You laugh, the sound tinged with wonder. “Trust me, I know the feeling. Life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.”

As you chat a bit more, Sofia can’t help but feel like she’s been let in on some grand secret. The way you talk about Charles, about history, about the strange twists of fate — it’s all so fantastical and yet, standing here in the shadow of that eerily familiar portrait, she can’t quite bring herself to disbelieve it entirely.

Finally, you glance at your watch and sigh. “I should get going. I’ve got to prepare for dinner soon. It was lovely meeting you, Sofia.”

Sofia nods, still feeling slightly dazed. “You too. And ... thanks. For sharing all of that. It’s given me a lot to think about.”

You smile warmly. “Just keep an open mind. You never know what kind of magic you might encounter, especially in a place like Monaco.”

As you leave, Sofia turns back to the portrait of Prince Charles. She studies it intently, trying to reconcile the historical figure with the modern-day race driver she admires so much.

“Second chances,” she murmurs to herself. “Who’d have thought?”

With one last look at the portrait, Sofia continues her tour of the museum. But now, every artifact seems to pulse with new significance. The weight of history feels more present than ever, intertwining with the present in ways she never could have imagined.

As she steps out of the museum and into the bright Monaco sunshine, Sofia finds herself looking at the city with new eyes. The sleek modern buildings and ancient narrow streets no longer seem at odds, but part of a continuous, living history.

She thinks of Charles Leclerc, of the mysterious Y/N, of a long-dead prince whose legacy seems to echo through time. And as she makes her way towards the harbor, where she knows the Monaco circuit snakes through the city streets, Sofia can’t help but feel that she’s stumbled upon a story far greater and more magical than any single victory.

With a smile on her face and a newfound appreciation for the mysteries of the universe, Sofia sets off to explore more of Monaco. After all, in a place where princes can become race drivers and love can transcend time itself, who knows what other wonders she might discover?

1K notes · View notes

helioooss · 6 days ago

Text

back to december

synopsis: after years of being together, jimin and y/n’s relationship starts to crack under the pressure of karina’s new-found world: fame.

w/c: 8.5k+

warnings: angst, swearing, this and that, not proofread

a/n: merry christmas

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the apartment door opened with a soft creak, letting in the sound of jingling keys and quiet footsteps. you looked up from where you sat, curled into the corner of the worn-out sofa, a book resting open in your lap. the faint hum of the world outside was replaced by silence as jimin stepped into the apartment.

her black hair, slightly damp with sweat, clung to her temples, and the oversized hoodie she wore looked three sizes too big. her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but even through her tired eyes, a familiar spark of excitement flickered to life.

“you’re home late,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you sat up straight, putting the book down on the coffee table.

she exhaled a breathy laugh as she moved toward you, collapsing onto the spot next to you with a heavy sigh. her body sank with yours onto the cushions as if they were the only things holding her together.

“baby,” she started, voice breathless yet glowing as her face beamed. “it’s happening.”

you frowned lightly, a mixture of confusion and curiosity dancing across your face. “what’s happening?”

she turned her head to look at you, a grin slowly spreading across her face. “the debut.”

your heart stilled for just a second, your mind needing a moment to catch up with her words.

“what?” you asked, almost as though you’d misheard — but you heard her right.

“i’m debuting!” she burst out, her hands flailing briefly before dropping back to her lap. her voice rose with that mix of disbelief and joy, like she was saying the words out loud to make them real. “it’s official. i’m going to debut in a group. with yizhuo, minjeong and aeri.”

the news struck you like a wave, one that carried a mixture of pride, excitement and something you couldn’t quite place — a faint flicker of anxiety.

“baby, that’s fucking incredible!” you threw your arms around her without thinking, and she let out a surprised laugh as you held her tightly. her body was warm and familiar, the scent of her floral shampoo lingering faintly — the smile broke across your face, legs tangled together and all.

her arms tightened around you for a moment before she pulled back just enough to look at you. her dark eyes softened. “i couldn’t have done it without you.”

“i told you it was only a matter of time,” you murmured into her shoulder, your voice muffled but steady. “it’s all you and your hard, baby. i just happen to be the lucky one cheering from the sidelines.”

“you’re always there, cheering me on, even when i doubt myself,” her eyes glimmered, showing adoration towards you.

“of course i am,” you replied simply. “i believe in you. i always have.”

her smile faltered for just a second, like she was overwhelmed by something unspoken. yet she sat up straighter, the energy returning to her. “i want to celebrate with you. i invited the girls over for dinner tomorrow — i hope you don’t mind.”

you nodded, feeling that familiar itch to do something for her. for all of them. “i’ll cook,” you offered without hesitation.

“you don’t have to —”

“i want to,” you cut in, smiling as you already made a mental note of the dishes you were going to cook. “it’s not every day my girlfriend debuts as a k-pop star. it has to be special.”

jimin’s face softened, her eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. “you’re going to love them,” she said quietly. “and they’re going to love you.”

the next day passed in a blur of preparation. the apartment smelled like home — garlic, soy sauce, and ginger infused the air and the sizzle of meat on the stove echoed through the small space.

you’d been chopping, marinating, and stirring for hours, sleeves rolled up to your elbows and a soft hum of music playing in the background. cooking for people always gave you a sense of calm, as though each dish you prepared was a quiet offering of care.

when the knock came at the door, followed by the distinct sound of your girlfriend’s laugh, you wiped your hands on a towel and peeked around the kitchen doorway. a small, proud smile tugged at her lips as she caught your eye.

“welcome, welcome!” she said brightly as three girls spilled into the entryway, shedding coats and shoes.

their energy filled the apartment instantly — a mixture of excitement, nerves, and something unspoken that came with dreams finally taking shape.

“this place is so cute,” one of the girls said, her sharp features framed by black hair that brushed her shoulders. she was grinning brightly, her accent smooth but distinct. “you must be y/n? i’m aeri. or giselle, i guess.”

you smiled warmly, offering a small wave. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you all. i hope you’re all hungry!”

“oh, trust me, i’m starved,” the blonde beside her piped up, eyes sparkling. “all good things, i hope. i’m minjeong. they’re calling me winter now.”

“and i’m yizhuo,” the third girl said, giving you a small but bright smile. her energy felt calmer but no less vibrant. “ningning on stage.”

“stage names, huh?” you glanced at jimin teasingly. “what’s yours?”

her cheeks blushed faintly. “karina.”

“karina,” you repeated softly, testing the name. you smiled. “it suits you.”

the girls teased her relentlessly over your response, but she took it with that playful pride, her gaze lingering on you.

“you cooked for us?” yizhuo asked, peeking into the kitchen with curiosity.

“it’s nothing fancy,” you said, though you knew the spread was far from simple. “just a little something to celebrate.”

“you’re spoiling us already,” minjeong teased as she followed the others into the living room. “jimin, take notes, would you?”

“idiot,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “i look after you three enough.”

they filed into the living room, and soon enough, the dinner table was alive with chatter, the girls filling the small space with their voices, stories and questions.

jimin sat beside you, her eyes occasionally flickering your way. she looked more at ease than you’d seen her in weeks, even with the chaos.

“so, y/n,” aeri started, leaning forward with curiosity, “your girlfriend said you’re an artist. you have your own gallery, right?”

you nodded, surprised she even knew that much. “yeah; it’s a small space, but it’s mine.”

“that’s so cool,” minjeong added, her eyes wide. “what kind of art do you do?”

“a bit of everything,” you replied, feeling a faint heat creep up your neck. “portraits, landscapes, abstracts…i’ve always loved experimenting with textures and colours.”

“jimin proudly told us she was your muse,” yizhuo teased, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

the girl groaned softly beside you, burying her face in her hands. “ning.”

the girls erupted into laughter while you smiled faintly, looking at jimin’s flustered form. “she’s not wrong,” you shrugged, earning a few squeals from around the table. she peeked at you between her fingers, her cheeks dusted pink.

they fell into an easy conversation with you, despite their initial curiosity about who you were and how you fit into jimin’s life. they teased her endlessly — about her stage name, her habits, her tendency to practice endlessly, but they did so with a kind of deep affection that made your heart ache in the best way.

at one point, yizhuo turned to you once again, grinning mischievously. “so, how did you two meet?”

you glanced at jimin, who was already looking at you with that knowing smile. “we met at my gallery,” you said. “she walked in one day, acting like she was lost.”

“i was lost,” she interjected defensively, though her grin betrayed her amusement.

“sure you were,” you teased back, earning laughter from the table. “she stayed longer than most visitors, though. we got to talking. and she kept coming back.”

“for the art?” minjeong asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“for her,” jimin admitted quietly, her voice almost drowned out by the noise.

the table quietened for a beat, and you felt your cheeks heat under their gazes.

“that’s so cute,” aeri declared, breaking the silence. “karina, the hopeless romantic. who would’ve thought?”

“she’s not as tough as she looks,” you joked, catching her eye. her expression softened, a quiet kind of gratitude lingering in her gaze.

jimin dropped her hands, her voice quieter now. “i’ve always been her biggest fan,” she said softly. “she just doesn’t know it.”

your heart fluttered in your chest, but you focused on scooping rice onto your plate, fighting the smile threatening to take over your face.

as dinner wound down, the conversation shifted to the industry itself. they talked about practice schedules, strict diets and the endless rehearsals that had led to this moment.

“it’s harder than people think,” aeri explained, leaning back in her chair. “we’re up at 6 in the morning most days and sometimes finish past midnight. and then we have to get up and do it all over again.”

“and don’t forget the pressure,” minjeong added. “from fans, the company, and even ourselves. it’s…a lot.”

you listened quietly, glancing at your girlfriend, who was staring down at her plate. something about the way she pressed her lips together tugged at you.

“you’ll all be amazing,” you said softly, cutting through the weight of the conversation. “it’s not easy, but you’re already doing something most people could only dream of. and… ou have each other. that’s what matters, right?”

they all smiled and jimin’s gaze finally lifted to meet yours. there was something unspoken in her expression — gratitude, perhaps, or pride.

“she’s right,” jimin said quietly. “we’ll make it. together.”

as the night drew to a close, you retreated to the kitchen to clean up despite their protests. jimin followed you eventually, leaning against the counter as you scrubbed dishes. the apartment behind her buzzed with the muffled sound of the girls talking and laughing.

“you were right,” you said softly. “i do love them.”

she smiled faintly, stepping closer. “and they love you.”

you turned off the tap and dried your hands before facing her, putting your hands on her waist. “i’m proud of you, you know.”

she placed her palms against your face, her gaze searching yours, and for a second, the world outside disappeared. “i’ll make you even prouder,” she promised. “you’ll see.”

she was always meant to shine. there was such a promise in her words that you believed her. with everything you had.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

aespa’s debut had been nothing short of a phenomenon. their first music video went viral overnight, their sleek, futuristic concept capturing millions. everyone fell in love with them, chanting their names in sold-out arenas and plastering their faces across glossy billboards.

the world had changed in just one year and karina had become its centre. their schedules stretched endlessly, a constant cycle of rehearsals, performances, and interviews.

you watched it all unfold from the sidelines.

it wasn’t a surprise. she had always been destined for this kind of success, but you never realised how much it would take from her — from both of you.

her phone calls to you grew shorter and texts came slower. ‘i love you’ turned into rushed goodbyes, the weight of her schedule pulling her further and further away. you understood. of course you did — this was the dream she had fought for.

understanding didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

the fanmeet was packed, the sound of chatter and excitement vibrating through the venue. you stood in line with the rest of the fans, clutching your aespa album and a small envelope. your pulse thrummed faintly with nerves, though it wasn’t the first fanmeet you’d attended. you’d been to as many as you could manage, standing in the crowds like everyone else, cheering and waving your lightstick.

jimin — karina, you corrected yourself — had spotted you more than once during these events. sometimes, her gaze would linger a second too long, her smile softening at the corners but you never pushed for more.

you were just another face in the crowd. it stung sometimes.

“next!”

you stepped forward, and there they were, seated at the table, faces bright with smiles. giselle was first to see you as she grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners as she took your album. “hi!”

“hi,” you said, smiling back.

she glanced up, studying you for a second. “you look familiar,” she said, pen poised above the page. “have we seen you before?”

you blinked. “uh, maybe? i’ve been to a few fanmeets.”

“oh, a dedicated fan,” giselle teased, scribbling her signature across the page. “i like that.”

dickhead. you laughed softly before moving on to ningning, who beamed brightly as you approached.

“it’s you again!” she said, pointing at you with her marker.

your stomach dropped slightly. “again?”

“yeah! you’ve been to, like, every show, right? and didn’t you trend once for that fan chant video?”

your cheeks burned. “oh…um, yeah. i guess.”

“we appreciate it,” ningning said warmly, leaning forward slightly. “you’re one of those fans — the ones we know are always there.”

your heart clenched at that, but you managed a small smile.

winter was next. her gaze was more observant as you handed her the album. “you’ve got that stan twitter vibe,” she said bluntly, and you nearly choked on air.

“what?”

she smirked. “come on. the energy? the dedication? you’ve got a secret fan account somewhere, don’t you?”

“i…” you began, unable to stop your nervous laugh. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

her smirk widened knowingly as she handed you back the album. “sure you don’t.”

and then it was karina.

she looked up as you stepped forward, her face breaking into a smile that she tried to make look casual but didn’t quite succeed.

“hey,” she said softly, her voice almost lost under the hum of the venue.

“hi,” you replied, keeping your own voice light as you stared at your girlfriend.

“you’re here again,” she murmured as she took the album.

“i always am,” you said quietly, watching her sign her stage name: karina, in elegant loops.

her hand paused for just a second and then she passed the album back to you, her thumb brushing over your skin for a second. her eyes flickered up, searching yours.

“thanks for coming,” she said finally, her tone just a little too soft to be professional.

you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “of course, always.”

the weeks bled into each other and your conversations with jimin really became less and less frequent. you would see her once a week, if you were lucky.

aespa had moved into a luxury apartment together months ago, but most of her old things were still here — left exactly as they had been, like ghosts of a quieter life. her old hoodie still hung on the back of the door, her favourite mug sat unused in the cupboard and you swore her perfume lingered around.

the thing that kept you afloat was constantly reminding yourself of what she’d fought for — how she had argued with her company to keep you, how she had sat across from you, holding the nda papers with shaking hands.

“i won’t lose you, y/n,” she’d whispered that day. “i’ll do whatever it takes.”

and she had.

now, the silence was the hardest part.

it was late afternoon when you arrived at their apartment, a small bag of groceries clutched tightly in your hands. the sleek, modern building seemed too pristine, like it belonged in a magazine, but it suited the: polished, untouchable, larger than life.

jimin wasn’t there. she’d left early that morning for solo activities. a photoshoot, you thought, though it was hard to keep track of her schedule these days. her texts had been brief that morning.

from: my love 🫶

leaving early today. the girls are home, though. they miss you. i miss you. i love you baby

sent 5:07 AM

it wasn’t much, but it was enough.

you stood at the door for a second, taking a deep breath before knocking. the door flew open, revealing yizhuo in an oversized hoodie and socks that looked like they belonged to a child. she grinned at you, eyes lighting up.

“y/n!” giselle’s voice echoed from the doorway, accompanied by the sound of excited footsteps. “is that you? what’s in the bag?”

you smiled, holding up a grocery bag full of ingredients as you slipped off your shoes. “you guys asked for kimchi jjigae, right?”

“oh my god, she came through again,” yizhuo cheered, rushing over to take the bag from your hands. “this is why we love you. well, one of the reasons.”

“don’t flatter me too much, ning,” you joked, nudging her playfully as she helped you into the luxury apartment’s sprawling kitchen. the place was sleek and spotless — completely different from the homey, cluttered flat you still shared with jimin’s belongings.

the other members were scattered around the living room, lounging across sofas like exhausted cats. minjeong, in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, sat cross-legged on the carpet with a controller in her hands. she glanced up when she saw you.

“y/n!” her face lit up as she paused the game, throwing her hands up. “you’re here! i thought you abandoned us after how awkward that fanmeet was.”

you snorted as you set the groceries on the kitchen counter. “i can’t abandon you guys if you keep bribing me with compliments.”

“it works every time,” aeri said with a wink, trailing behind you. “i nearly slipped up the other day and was about to ask you if you could cook at home and feed us.”

“you’re just stupid like that sometimes,” you chuckled teasingly as, earning a slight push from her. you quickly got to work, tying your hair back and pulling out pots and pans from their neatly arranged cupboards.

while you prepped ingredients, aeri and yizhuo hovered around the kitchen like puppies begging for food.

“so,” aeri started, propping her elbows on the counter. “when are you moving in here officially? we might as well just claim you as aespa’s honorary fifth member at this point.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head as you chopped tofu. “i think you’ll have to run that past your managers.”

“nah, you’re already in,” yizhuo piped up, stealing a piece of green onion from the cutting board and dodging your swat. “jimin just doesn’t want to admit she’d lose her mind without you.”

at the mention of her, something in your chest twisted, but you masked it with a light smile. “you’re all dramatic. i’m sure she’d be fine.”

“don’t let her fool you,” aeri leaned closer with a cheeky grin. “she acts all cool and composed, but we’ve seen her mooning over you. ‘the love of my life is coming over? i’ll clean the living room!’ ‘my girlfriend likes this snack, we should keep some here.’ it’s adorable.”

“stop,” you said, your voice softening involuntarily, cheeks warming.

“she’s lucky, though,” minjeong said from the couch, still tapping idly on her controller. “no one else would put up with her constant brooding and perfectionism. we’d have kicked her out.”

you laughed at that, the weight in your chest lifting for just a moment. “well, someone’s got to keep her in check.”

“exactly,” aeri agreed, clapping her hands together. “and you feed us, which means you’re already way cooler than karina. no offence to our leader.

“all the offence please,” yizhuo teased under her breath, earning a set of laughter from minjeong.

minjeong finally stood up and leaned against the counter, watching you with a curious expression. “so, what’s up with jimin today? she’s doing something solo, right?”

you nodded, focusing on cutting tofu. “photoshoot, i think. she didn’t say much.”

“she never does,” she muttered, though her tone was light. “she’s so busy lately. we barely see her, and we live with her.”

“i know,” you said softly, more to yourself than to her.

the kitchen fell quiet for a moment. yizhuo and minjeong exchanged a quick look, but neither said anything.

“are we gossiping?” aeri teased, breaking the silence. “because i can tell you who’s been stealing my snacks again.”

“not me!” yizhuo shot back immediately.

“sure,” aeri deadpanned before turning to you. “smells amazing, y/n. i don’t know why karina ever let you out of her sight.”

“it’s not like that,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice casual.

“no, seriously,” she added, crossing her arms. “you’re her soft spot. we’ve seen it.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, making your chest ache faintly. you’d always been her soft spot — her quiet space away from the noise. you wondered if that space was shrinking, if the demands of the world were slowly pushing you out.

by the time you finished cooking, the entire apartment smelled like garlic, simmering kimchi, and savoury broth. you set the bubbling pot of jjigae in the centre of the dining table, along with plates of rice and simple side dishes you’d thrown together on a whim.

“y/n, you’re a literal saint,” minjeong said, sliding into the seat closest to the pot. “this smells so good.”

“i swear you’re trying to ruin us,” aeri added, spooning herself a generous helping. “we’re going to start rejecting all the food the company gives us.”

“you’ll get me blacklisted if you keep saying that,” you teased, sitting down across from them.

“worth it,” yizhuo said through a mouthful of tofu.

it was easy to slip into conversations with them. between bites of stew and rice, they told you stories about their chaotic schedules — forgotten dance moves on live stages, accidentally matching outfits and how yizhuo almost fell asleep during a radio interview.

“fame’s not as glamorous as it looks, huh?” you mused after aeri recounted how she nearly tripped down a set of stage stairs.

“nope,” minjeong, resting her chin on her hand. “it’s exhausting. but when we’re on stage, it feels worth it.”

“still,” yizhuo added, looking at you, “i don’t know how you do it.”

you blinked. “do what?”

“deal with jimin’s schedule,” she said bluntly. “you guys don’t even get to see each other that much anymore, right?”

the air shifted slightly, the question hanging heavier than it should have. you forced a small smile, stirring the rice in your bowl. “we make it work,” you said quietly, trying to sound casual.

aeri glanced at you, a flicker of something like sympathy in her eyes. “she doesn’t shut up about how much she misses you, you know.”

“she’s just bad at showing it,” minjeong added with a shrug.

“really bad,” ningning agreed, earning a smack on the arm from aeri.

you chuckled softly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “i know she’s busy. it’s her dream. i’m proud of her.”

“you’re good to her, y/n,” aeri tilted her head, her voice softer now. “she knows that. and honestly… she’s so lucky to have you.”

something about the way she said it tugged at you — like a quiet reassurance, but also a reminder. you nodded, offering her a small smile before focusing on your food. “well,” you said after a beat, “as long as you guys keep eating what i make, i guess i’ll stick around.”

“don’t need to ask me twice,” minjeong said instantly, earning a round of laughter.

after dinner, the girls collapsed onto the couch, groaning about how full they were while you tidied up the kitchen. you heard one of them flick on the tv, someone grumbling about someone else hogging the remote.

barely noticing the time, you were just finishing up when you felt arms loop around your waist from behind, a familiar chin resting on your shoulder.

“you didn’t tell me you were coming,” jimin murmured, her voice low and tired.

you paused, leaning into her touch slightly. “i wanted to surprise you.”

“you always do,” she said softly, her grip tightening.

you exhaled quietly, turning to look at her. her face was bare of makeup, her eyes slightly shadowed with exhaustion but she still looked like her.

“you okay?” you asked gently, brushing her hair back.

she nodded, though her gaze dropped slightly. “i missed you.”

“i’m right here,” you said softly, trying to smile.

her eyes flickered with something unspoken before the sounds of aeri shouting from the living room broke the moment.

“jimin! get out here! y/n’s our girlfriend now, so you’re being replaced by three beautiful women.”

jimin rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “remind me why i brought them into my life?”

“because they’re good for you,” you murmured, nudging her.

“you’re better,” she replied quietly, almost too soft for you to hear.

you pulled her face, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “are you still coming to my opening next week? mum and dad will be there.”

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

and even though she pulled you into the living room with the others, her arm slung over your shoulder, you couldn’t shake the weight of her words.

i wouldn’t miss it for the world.

you hoped she meant it. because as you looked at her, laughing with the girls, you couldn’t help but feel how far away she seemed — even when she was right beside you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the hum of quiet conversation slowly faded as the last of your guests trickled out of the gallery. the evening had been a success — more than that, really. the walls were lined with paintings that had taken months of late nights and countless hours to finish, and people had loved them.

three had sold in the first hour and one was going to los angeles.

yet as you stood by the entrance, offering polite goodbyes, the warmth of the evening didn’t quite settle in your chest the way it should have.

“sweetheart, are you okay?”

you turned toward the familiar voice. your parents stood a few feet away, your mum’s coat draped over her arm while your dad shifted his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

smiling tightly, you tugged the sleeves of your shirt down as you shrugged. “of course, mum. it’s been a great night.”

your dad sighed, his eyes falling towards the nearest painting; a soft, abstract silhouette of a woman, bathed in streaks of light and shadow. “is jimin still coming?”

the question hit you harder than it should have. after all, you’d spent all evening glancing toward the door, hoping for a flash of black hair, hoping to see her slip in quietly, apologetically, but she never came.

you forced a casual tone. “she’s…working still. something ran late, i think. she’ll text me later.”

“she’s going to miss the entire night?” he asked, frowning slightly. “it’s your opening.”

“yeah, idols and their schedules,” you awkwardly rubbed your nape, chuckling. “it’s okay, dad, really.”

your mum gave you a knowing look, the kind only mothers could manage — one that said she saw straight through you. she reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “you’re always so understanding, darling. but don’t let her forget how important you are, too.”

“i’m fine, mum,” you reassured her, though the words felt hollow.

he nodded, clearly wanting to say something else but holding back. “we’re proud of you, kiddo. the show was incredible. you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“thanks dad,” you murmured, offering them a small smile. “i appreciate you two showing up, i know the drive was pain.”

“anything for you, sweetheart,” your mum pulled you into a hug, kissing your cheek goodbye. “come over for dinner when you’re free, okay? i miss you both.”

they gave you a final hug before heading out into the night, leaving you alone in the quiet of the gallery. you exhaled slowly, looking around at the space you’d poured yourself into.

the pieces were yours. each stroke, each colour a reflection of something you couldn’t quite put into words, but so many of them were her.

she was everywhere, woven into the canvas, immortalised in paint.

your phone buzzed, breaking the silence. you grabbed it quickly, hope rising in your chest and only for it to deflate as you saw the multiple names on your screen.

from: minjeonggg

your show looked amazing, y/n! karina told us about it. hope you’re celebrating 🫶 sorry we couldn’t be there today but i promiseeee i’ll see u this week

sent 11:31 PM

from: aeri-chan

ok miss popular, dinner’s on me. i’m cooking (please don’t let me)

so proud of your hard work <3

sent 11:40 PM

from: ningx2

i saw photos from a friend of mine who came to the openinggg, showed the girls if u don’t mind. they’re all so beautiful 🤩

sent 11:43 PM

you stared at the screen for a moment, your chest tightening — all but from your girlfriend as you swiped to your call log. no missed calls. no texts.

pressing her name, the phone rung in your ear as you paced the room. it rang once. twice. seven times. just as you were about to hang up, the line connected.

“hello?” her voice was tired, clipped in a way that instantly told you this was going to go poorly.

“hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you hesitated for a second. “are you still coming?”

“coming where?”

you paused, heart stopping. “the gallery show. my show, jimin. the one you promised you were show up to. in fact, mum and dad actually waited for you.

a beat of silence stretched between you.

“y/n, i told you i was busy tonight,” she muttered, a hint of frustration bleeding into her voice. “i had a shoot that ran over. it wasn’t like i could just leave.”

“i know you’re busy,” you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “but this was important to me and i wanted you to be there, even just for a little while.”

“you think i don’t know that?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “i’m sorry, okay? i wanted to be there, but i can’t just drop everything for a gallery show.”

you flinched, her words striking deeper than she likely intended. “it wasn’t just a show. it was my work — a year’s worth of it.”

“and what do you think i’m doing?” she snapped suddenly. “you think i’m working this hard for nothing? i’m doing this for us. for our future.”

“i’m not asking for a future, i’m asking for now,” you replied, your voice catching at the edges. “you don’t even call anymore. you don’t text. i feel like i’m standing on the outside of your life, watching you move further and further away.”

“fuck y/n, stop,” she called out, sharper this time. “you’re making it sound like i’m doing this on purpose — like i don’t care. i care about you, you know that.”

“then why do i feel like i don’t have a place in your life anymore?” you asked in a quiet voice, trying to hold back your tears.

the silence that followed was deafening. you could hear her breathing faintly on the other end, uneven and tense. “i don’t have time for this,” she muttered, her voice cold.

“wait —“ you followed, desperation evident in your voice.

the line went dead.

you stared at your phone, your fingers still clutching it tightly. the words felt like they’d been ripped out of you, leaving you hollow. you wanted to apologise and tell her you weren’t angry — just hurt, but knowing jimin during arguments, all you could do was wait.

the next few days crawled by. she didn’t call, and you didn’t text her. every time your phone buzzed, you reached for it instinctively, only to feel that sting of disappointment when it wasn’t her.

you spent your hours in the gallery, moving through the motions — packing paintings, restocking supplies, tidying the studio, anything to keep your mind busy.

three days later, the doorbell above the gallery chimed and you looked up, surprised to see aeri and minjeong walking in, their faces bright with easy smiles.

“look what the cat brought in,” you said, trying to sound cheerful as you tucked a cloth into your pocket. “what are you two doing here?”

“we came to see your show properly,” aeri smiled. she glanced around the space, her eyes widening as she took in the paintings on the walls. “wow, these are amazing!”

minjeong wandered toward a painting near the window — a soft, abstract piece of two hands reaching for each other but not quite touching. “you’re really talented, you know that?”

“i appreciate it,” you replied, the words feeling hollow in your mouth.

awri paused, pointing to another painting; a woman sitting alone by a window, light spilling onto her face. “is this karina?” she asked softly.

you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. “yeah.”

minjeong studied the piece for a moment before turning back to you. “she’s lucky to have someone who loves her like this, you’re so good to her.”

you chuckled, pressing your hands together. “i try.” they both stopped at another canvas, an abstract piece this time — gazes lingering on the soft blues and greys. “that one sold immediately for twenty thousand dollars. i was in the middle of packing it down.”

minjeong’s eyes widened. “holy shit, y/n. that’s insane. i’m glad we got to see it then!”

you smiled faintly, though the ache lingered. “thanks. i want to make something that matters, you know?”

“you already have,” aeri said firmly. “ning would’ve come too, but she got dragged into solo schedules today.”

your heart sank slightly, though you didn’t let it show. “it’s fine. i’m glad you guys came.”

“we wouldn’t miss it,” minjeong wrapped her arms around you. “your work deserves to be seen, y/n. don’t ever forget that.”

aeri kissed your cheek, letting out a laugh when the brim of her hat hit your face. “i’m sorry!”

“idiot,” you shook your head, smiling. “sorry to see you guys go.”

minjeong sighed. “we’re sorry too, we have a meeting with our director in half an hour.”

you bowed your head. “please send my regards to ning and jimin.”

after they left, the gallery fell quiet again, leaving you alone with your thoughts. you sank onto a small bench near the centre of the room, staring at the paintings surrounding you.

they were all pieces of her — fragments of moments, memories captured on canvas. her laughter in the kitchen as you danced around with flour on your hands, the way she’d lean her head on your shoulder when the world felt too heavy.

the way she’d whispered, “i’ll always be here.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was november and the city was wrapped in the magic of the season. soft snowflakes drifted from the sky, blanketing the streets in white. shop windows glowed with warm lights, adorned with wreaths, tinsel and cheerful displays.

the world around you buzzed with a festive energy, but it felt distant; a joy you couldn’t quite reach.

jimin hadn’t spoken to you in over a week.

she told herself she was giving you space, letting things settle before she reached out but every passing day without hearing your voice made the ache in her chest grow heavier.

she missed you. horribly.

she missed the sound of your laughter, the way you always tilted your head when you were concentrating on a painting. she missed your voice, even the way you’d tease her about how serious she could be.

but what hurt most was the way you’d sounded during the argument: disappointed, like she’d let you down beyond repair and she shut you down.

her phone sat untouched on her bedside table, but she couldn’t bring herself to call you.

she told herself you were fine, that you always understood.

and then she found it: an old flyer tucked into her wallet, creased from months of being ignored.

free weekend art class: saturdays, 2-5 p.m.

without a second thought, she grabbed her hoodie and a coat, pulled a cap low over her face, and left the dorm.

when she arrived, the small studio sat quietly on the corner of the street. large windows stretched across the front, letting in subtle beams of warm afternoon sunlight. she stopped just outside, heart pounding in her chest as she looked in.

there you were.

you stood near the window, laughing with a group of students as you demonstrated something with your hands. you wore an old paint-streaked apron over your clothes, your hair messily tied back with strands falling loose around your face.

jimin froze, her chest tightening painfully at the sight of you.

you were so beautiful.

for a moment, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. your laugh carried faintly through the window, and she felt like someone had punched the air from her lungs.

you looked happy here, in your space — your world. one she hadn’t been a part of in far too long.

her hands trembled as she pushed open the studio door. the small bell above it jingled, startling you mid-sentence. your gaze flicked to the door, and when you saw her, your expression froze.

the soft smile on your face faltered, replaced by something unreadable.

“oh…hello, have a seat,” you said, your voice calm but distant. “the class finishes in an hour, sorry you missed most of it.”

the class turned briefly to look at her, then back to their work, unfazed. she stood awkwardly near the door, her cap pulled low, unsure of whether to move closer.

“i’m sorry,” she said quietly, though her voice barely carried over the hum of the room. “it’s okay, i’ll stay and watch for now.”

you stared at her for a beat before turning back to your students, forcing yourself to focus. “right, let’s keep going. we’re almost done for today.”

jimin stayed silent at the back of the studio, hands shoved deep into the pocket of her hoodie. she watched as you moved between easels, stopping to encourage your students with soft words and kind smiles.

“light strokes,” you were saying, guiding a young girl’s brush across the canvas. “you’re not fighting the paint, you’re moving with it, okay? let it flow.”

the girl nodded, grinning up at you. “like magic?”

you laughed softly, the sound carrying faintly through the glass. “exactly like magic.”

jimin’s heart clenched painfully. she’d forgotten what it was like to just watch you.

the way you moved between students, offering encouragement, helping them mix colours, or joking with them about how ‘happy accidents’ were just part of the process.

“mr. kim,” you said with a grin to one of your older students, “i know damn well you didn’t mean to paint a tree in the middle of your cityscape, but we’re rolling with it now.”

the man laughed heartily, shaking his head. “art is chaos, isn’t it?”

“exactly,” you replied with a wink.

as the class carried on, you felt her gaze on you. it was familiar, but you didn’t meet her eyes.

when the class ended, the students began packing up, thanking you as they grabbed their bags and coats. you busied yourself cleaning brushes and wiping down tables, pretending not to notice jimin still standing by the door.

eventually, the last student waved goodbye, and the doorbell chimed softly as it closed.

once the last student left, the room fell eerily quiet. you didn’t say anything at first, just continued gathering supplies, your back to her.

“y/n,” jimin said softly, taking a small step forward.

“did you enjoy the class?” your voice was polite, but there was no warmth in it.

she flinched at how distant you sounded. “i didn’t come here for the class.”

you finally turned to face her, arms crossed over your chest. your face was calm, but your eyes gave it away; hurt and guarded.

“then why did you come here, jimin?”

her throat tightened, her voice almost failing her. “because…because i missed you.”

you turned away, picking up brushes and placing them back into jars. “it took you over a fucking week to realise that?”

she flinched at the quiet sharpness in your words. “baby, i’m sorry. i —”

“don’t,” you said quickly, cutting her off. “don’t say anything if you don’t mean it.”

her face fell, guilt flashing across her features. “i know. i messed up. i…i wanted to come to the show, my love. i wanted to, but —”

“but you didn’t,” you said flatly, crossing your arms.

she flinched. “i know. i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, your voice quieter. “you’re always sorry, jimin, and it doesn’t change anything.”

for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“let me take you home,” she said suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. “just…please. let me come home. i want to talk. let me fix this.”

she looked terrible — tired. the bags under her eyes indicated that she’d been crying, the sight of her tugging your heartstrings.

you stared at her for a long moment before sighing softly. “fine.”

the drive to your shared apartment was quiet. jimin glanced at you occasionally, trying to make small talk, but you stared out the window, your expression unreadable.

when you got to your shared apartment, it felt strange walking in again, like she was intruding something she shouldn’t be a part of.

everything was still the same.

her old hoodie still hung on the back of the chair in the living room. her favourite mug; chipped at the rim, sat on the kitchen shelf. and piles of her shoes were still lined up neatly by the door.

she felt her throat close as she picked up the hoodie, fingers trembling. “you didn’t move anything,” she whispered.

you paused, turning to look at her. “of course it is.”

her voice cracked. “you didn’t…you didn’t throw anything out?”

“why would i?” you replied softly, setting your bag down on the table. “i was still hoping you’d come home one day.”

she sank onto the sofa, her head in her hands. her eyes burned, the weight of her guilt crashing over her all at once. she looked down at her lap, her shoulders trembling slightly.

you turned at the sound of a soft sob, stunned. “jimin?”

“y/n,” she looked up at, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. “i’m so sorry.”

you stared at her for a moment, surprised to see her like this.

“i’ve been so caught up in everything that i forgot,” she whispered, her voice choked. “i forgot what this…what you mean to me. i’ve been so afraid of losing everything that i ended up hurting the one person who’s always been there for me.”

you felt your own throat tighten as you watched her wipe her face with the sleeves of her hoodie, her tears unfiltered. she never cried — not like this.

slowly, you stepped toward her and sat down on the edge of the sofa beside her.

she reached for your hand, her fingers trembling as she gripped desperately, afraid that you’d pull away. “i don’t want to lose you. please…please don’t let me lose you.”

your heart clenched painfully, and you sat down beside her, letting her hold onto you like you were the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“you just need to talk to me, my love,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm. “you can’t keep shutting me out. i need to know you still want this — still want us.”

“i do,” she whispered, tears still spilling down her cheeks. “more than anything.”

you sighed, leaning your head back against the sofa. “you’re home now.”

she nodded, squeezing your hand tighter. “i’ll do better. i swear.”

you looked at her then, seeing the sincerity in her tear-streaked face. she looked small, like the girl who used to curl up beside you in this very apartment, sharing dreams she never thought would come true.

she’d gotten so far.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a month had passed and though jimin tried to make an effort, the space between you only seemed to grow. the list on her relentless schedule grew longer with each passing day — leaving no room for you. like always.

she started coming home more often, not to her luxury apartment, but home, to the apartment you both called yours.

sometimes she was too tired to say much, collapsing onto the couch while you worked on a new painting in the studio but her presence was enough.

“this is where you work your magic, huh?” she said one evening, peeking her head into the room.

you looked up from the canvas, smirking faintly as you tucked a brush behind your ear. “magic is a strong word, baby.”

“nah,” she murmured, crossing the room to press a kiss to your temple. “it’s magic to me.”

you didn’t respond, but you smiled softly as she wandered back out, her footsteps light as she disappeared into the bedroom.

she tried, she really did — but it even felt like the universe was just pulling you two apart. there were calls scattered throughout the day, sweet but fleeting texts that felt more like habit than genuine conversation.

practice went late. how’s your day?

just saw a dog that looks like the one that peed on you

goodnight. i love you!

the words still made your heart ache, but it was different now: almost routine. and on her rare days off, you no longer got a call asking if you wanted to spend time together. or if she could come home to you.

instead, you saw photos online; grainy shots on social media, taken at a distance but unmistakable — jimin out with other idols, at parties, smiling brightly in the dim glow of neon lights. you recognised the faces of her friends, ryujin and yeji among them and the aespa girls were always there too, which gave you some relief. but it still hurt.

you weren’t her person anymore. and you sat just right where she left you.

one evening, you were sitting at your parents’ kitchen table, a cup of tea warming your hands as your mum watched you carefully. your dad sat nearby, pretending to read a book but clearly listening to every word.

the quiet ache in your chest refused to let go as you tried to focus on the tv chatter.

it was your birthday.

and while your parents had gone out of their way to make it special, the absence of a single message from jimin loomed over you like a shadow.

“you’re quiet today,” she said gently, passing you a slice of bread.

you forced a smile, wrapping your hands around the mug. “just tired. it’s been a long week.”

your dad glanced up from his book, his brows furrowing. “you’re not supposed to be tired on your birthday. you’re supposed to be happy.”

“i am happy,” you said quickly, though your voice lacked conviction.

she gave you a knowing look, the kind that only mothers could master. “has she called yet?”

you hesitated, your throat tightening. “she’s busy.”

“busy?” he repeated, setting his book down with a soft thud. “too busy to call on your birthday?”

“dad, it’s not like that,” you said quietly, though the words felt hollow.

“and she doesn’t tell you anything anymore?” she asked gently, brow furrowed.

“not really,” you murmured, stirring your tea absently. “she calls, she texts but it’s…surface-level stuff. like she’s trying to keep me calm without really including me in her life.”

“you’ve been together for years, kiddo. have you told her how this makes you feel?”

“i’ve tried,” you said, voice small. “but she doesn’t hear me. it’s like…i’m shouting into a void and she’s not even there to listen.”

“y/n, love,” she began softly, reaching for your hand, “we’ve known jimin for years. we know she’s a good person, but even good people make mistakes, they can get lost.”

“she’s busy. her life has changed,” you replied, repeating the excuse you’d given yourself countless times.

he shook his head. “being busy doesn’t mean she can’t try. you deserve someone who makes you feel seen, y/n. we accept the love we think we deserve, and you —” he pointed at you gently. “deserve so much more than feeling invisible.”

you swallowed hard, the words hitting you square in the chest. “i love her,” you said softly. “but i don’t know if she loves me the same way anymore.”

your mum gave your hand a small squeeze. “then maybe it’s time you ask yourself whether love is enough to keep holding on.”

the words settled heavily in your chest, but you forced a small smile, not wanting to ruin the moment. “thank you, mum, dad. and thank you for this,” you gestured to the table, trying to shift the focus.

“we just want you to be happy, kiddo,” your dad said, squeezing your shoulder.

you returned to your apartment later that evening, the quiet space feeling colder than usual just like the season. you hadn’t heard from jimin all day —not a call, not a text. you tried to tell yourself it was fine, that she was busy with rehearsals or a schedule she couldn’t control. but as the hours dragged on, the ache in your chest grew heavier.

it was nearly midnight when your phone finally rang. your heart leapt as her name flashed on the screen, and for a moment, you hesitated. but you answered anyway.

“hey,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“my love,” jimin’s voice came through the line, soft and warm. you could hear the faint hum of noise in the background — music, voices — before it quieted. “are you busy?”

you leaned back against the couch cushions, clutching the phone tighter. “no. just…relaxing. where are you?”

“still at the studio,” she said, her tone carrying that familiar exhaustion. “we’re running late again, but i just wanted to hear your voice.”

your chest ached at how sweet she sounded —soft, almost needy.

“you sound tired,” you murmured. “have you eaten?”

“not yet,” she admitted. “but i will. promise.”

you smiled faintly. “you always say that.”

“because you always ask,” she replied softly. “how was your day? tell me about it.”

you hesitated, surprised at how genuine she sounded as you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “it was fine. quiet, mostly. i went to see my parents.”

she really forgot your birthday.

“how are they?” she asked quickly, her tone filled with genuine curiosity. “i miss them. did your dad make his lemon bread again?”

you managed a faint smile despite the ache in your chest. “yeah, he still calls it his signature recipe.”

she laughed softly, the sound tugging at your heart. “i wish i could’ve been there. your mum’s tea, your dad’s bread…i miss all of it. and them. and you.

your heart squeezed painfully at her words.

“they miss you too,” you mumbled quietly.

you heard faint shouting in the background — yizhuo’s voice calling, “is that y/n? let me say hi!”

“nope,” jimin said firmly, her voice playful but resolute. you heard shuffling, then a door slam shut. “i’m hiding in the bathroom. they’re trying to steal the phone.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you love me,” she teased softly.

“i do,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

there was a beat of silence on her end before she whispered, “i love you too.”

you closed your eyes, holding the phone to your ear like it might pull her closer. “i miss you,” you added, forcing the words out before your emotions could betray you.

“i miss you more baby, i’ll be home soon,” she heaved a sigh. “i’ll get them to drop me off at our place if you don’t mind.”

our place — it sounded nice, but you don’t know if it held so much meaning anymore. the apartment was quiet, unbearably so. the only sound was the faint hum of the heater.

“baby?” her voice cut through the line, a set of knocks coming from her end. “are you still there or did you fall asleep? i have to go!”

“yes, sorry,” you sniffled. “i love you, see you at home.”

“love you too, bye,” she whispered; you heard shuffling, then the line went dead.

your eyes burned as tears spilled over, hot against your cheeks. you’d told yourself you wouldn’t cry tonight, but it was so hard to sit here, in the apartment that still held so many memories of her feeling like you were the only one left trying to hold onto them.

the thought echoed in your mind, relentless and cruel. no matter how much you tried to rationalise it: how busy she was, how hectic her life had become — it didn’t change the fact that she’d forgotten a day that once felt sacred between you.

the girl who used to light up at the sight of you, who’d once been your rock, that jimin felt like a ghost now, a memory fading further with each passing day.

you buried your face in your hands as the sobs came harder. you lifted your head up when you heard a buzz on the table, phone lighting up.

from minjeonggg

happy birthday, y/n. sorry it’s so late, only just coming home from visiting my family in busan. sorry i couldn’t spend your special day with you and the girls but i hope rina spoilt you!! <3

sent 11:47 PM

well, at least she remembered.

part of you still hoped she’d walk through the door, even if it was late and sweep you into her arms, apologising for everything — for forgetting your birthday, for the distance, for the way she’d made you feel so small.

for everything.

but the hours dragged on and the door never opened.

you curled up on the couch, the blanket pulled tightly around you like a shield, and cried until your throat was raw and your chest ached.

you loved jimin.

but tonight, as the silence stretched on and your tears soaked the pillow beneath you, it felt like that love wasn’t enough to fill the growing void she’d left in her wake.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a few days later, you didn’t hear from karina and neither did she hear from you. you were tired of chasing after her love, of being neglected. instead, her friends were the only ones making an effort to get you out of the apartment.

from: aeri-chan

why are you ignoring me :( do you not like me :( i thought we were friends :( can you come over :(

sent 10:15 AM

from: minjeonggg

missing u y/n, come over today? jiminnie isn’t here but i’m sure you love us enough to cook us italian right

sent 10:16 AM

to: minjeonggg

you only love my cooking, not me. but i guess i love u all enough

sent 10:17 AM

from: ningx2

????? hello come over

sent 10:23 AM

from: aeri-chan

management is starving us !! why only reply to minjeong >:( ok you don’t care about me

sent 10:25 AM

the apartment felt both familiar and foreign when you stepped inside an hour later. outside was freezing cold and their heater being cranked up was so inviting.

“y/n!” aeri practically shouted when she opened the door, pulling you into a hug before you could even step inside. “about fucking time.”

“we thought you forgot about us,” minjeong said from her spot on the couch, where she was curled up with a blanket.

“she can’t forget us,” yizhuo added, peeking her head around the corner from the kitchen. “we haunt her dreams.”

you laughed softly, slipping off your shoes. “you’re all ridiculous.”

“and you love us,” aeri replied smugly, grabbing your hand to pull you toward the kitchen. “come on. we’re starving, and we saw the grocery bags.

“where is karina?” you asked, feeling your throat tighten. you were hoping she’d be here…and maybe talk to you.

she raised an eyebrow. “karina who now? since when did you ever call her that? and she’s out with ryujin and yeji right now.”

since i stopped knowing her, you thought. and yet another free schedule she refused to spend time with you on.

“just in case i slip up and call her baby in front of everyone,” you mumbled. gotta get used to it.”

“tea or coffee, y/n?” minjeong smiled as she took your coat in her hand. “we have matcha too.”

“coffee, please,” you nodded as you placed the bags on the counter. “at least someone in this room cares about me.”

“yah!” aeri slapped your shoulder playfully. “ning, get our weapon.”

and before you knew it, minjeong covered your eyes with her palms. “don’t even try to wiggle out of here — ning, hurry up!”

you could hear giggling and whispering as minjeong slowly uncovered your vision, revealing a beautiful white box wrapped in satin just sitting on the counter.

“you didn’t think we’d forget, did you?” aeri said with a smirk, gesturing for you to sit.

“we’ve been busy, but we didn’t want to let it go uncelebrated,” minjeong added, smiling softly.

your throat tightened as you looked at them, their bright smiles and genuine excitement pulling at your heart.

“guys, you didn’t have to do this,” you said quietly, sitting down as yizhuo plopped down beside you.

“we wanted to,” aeri nudged the box closer to you. “now open it before ningning explodes.”

“hey!” the girl protested, though she grinned just as widely.

you carefully untied the ribbon, lifting the lid to reveal a collection of beautifully wrapped items. your eyes widened as you started pulling them out one by one.

“you guys…”

first, a sleek cartier box holding a stunning watch, its elegant design making your breath catch.

“that’s from all of us,” minjeong smiled shyly. “we wanted you to have something special.”

“it was mostly her idea, you’re always asking for the time but you never have the watch for it,” yizhuo revealed, making minjeong slap her playfully.

next, a stack of cookbooks, each one carefully chosen. “because we know you’re basically our personal chef,” aeri teased.

then a set of high-quality art supplies — paints, brushes and sketchbooks, each item carefully selected. “ning picked those out,” minjeong mentioned, pointing at her proudly. “she insisted on the fancy stuff.”

“nothing but the best for our artist,” yizhuo said with a grin.

but it was the last item that made your breath hitch — a photo album.

your hands trembled slightly as you opened it, flipping through pages filled with photos of you and jimin, some candid, some posed. moments you didn’t even know had been captured — her laughing as you cooked together, the two of you curled up on the couch, a blurry shot of her kissing your cheek while you looked embarrassed.

“we’ve been taking these over the years,” aeri said softly. “thought you might like them all in one place.”

you pressed a hand to your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes.

“y/n, are you crying?” minjeong asked, leaning closer, her voice full of concern.

“no,” you mumbled, wiping at your cheeks with a laugh. “okay, maybe.”

“we just wanted you to know how much we love you,” minjeong muttered, sitting down on the other side of you. “you’ve always been there for us— even when you didn’t have to be. you deserve to feel special.”

you closed the album carefully, holding it to your chest as fresh tears fell. “thank you. i…i don’t even know what to say. this is a lot.”

“nothing’s too much for you,” aeri said firmly.

“besides, jimin’s probably already spoiled you, right?” yizhuo added with a grin. “what did she get you?”

the question hit you like a punch to the stomach, your mind going blank as you scrambled for an answer. “uh,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “karina…she got me this really expensive ring. it’s beautiful.”

aeri raised an eyebrow. “a ring? that’s a big deal.”

“yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “it’s…a promise ring.”

your heart twisted painfully as the lie left your lips.

minjeong clapped her hands together, grinning. “of course she did. she’s always been extra when it comes to you.”

you nodded, your smile wavering as you clutched the photo album tighter.

the conversation moved on, but the weight of your words lingered in your chest. you knew you shouldn’t have lied, but admitting the truth, that karina had completely forgotten your birthday felt too raw, too painful.

the apartment buzzed with warmth and noise as you worked in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up and hands busy slicing tomatoes and kneading fresh dough for pasta. aeri hovered nearby, stealing bites of cheese while yizhuo pestered you with questions about how to properly season garlic bread.

“you don’t get to criticise when you burn instant noodles,” you teased, flicking flour in her direction.

“that was one time,” yizhuo shot back, dodging the flour.

minjeong wandered in at one point, sneaking a spoonful of the sauce and groaning dramatically. “y/n, you’re a genius. we don’t deserve you.”

“you really don’t,” you replied with a faint smile.

“careful,” aeri teased, leaning on the counter. “if you cook like this all the time, we might just keep you here.”

“it’s tempting,” you admitted softly, but the words carried a weight you didn’t intend.

they didn’t press further.

“my parents visited your gallery, by the way,” yizhuo added.

“what?” you asked, surprised. “when? abd why didn’t you tell me?”

“like two days ago, they said it was like stepping into a dream,” yizhuo explained, her voice full of admiration. “they loved it, y/n. i swear they were ready to redecorate their whole house.”

you smiled, your chest swelling with pride. “that’s really sweet of them — i wish i was there to meet them.”

“you’re so talented,” minjeong added from her seat at the table. “jimin’s lucky. she gets to be your muse.”

the mention of karina made you pause for a split second, but you forced yourself to smile. “thanks, minjeongie.”

dinner was a lively affair, the girls laughing and talking over each other as they devoured the dishes you’d made. it felt good to be here, to see them again, even if a quiet part of you wondered why your own girlfriend hadn’t said anything about inviting you over herself.

it was minjeong who dropped the bombshell halfway through dinner.

“we have a world tour coming up,” she said casually, twirling spaghetti onto her fork.

you froze. “the what?”

aeri shot her a look, as if to say ‘why’d you say that?’ but the girl didn’t seem to notice.

“the tour,” she repeated, looking at you. “it starts in a couple of months. did jimin not…tell you?”

you felt your chest tighten, though you kept your voice even. “no. she didn’t.”

the table fell quiet for a beat. yizhuo fidgeted with her fork, avoiding your gaze, while aeri sighed softly. “she’s probably just waiting for the right time to tell you,” she said, though it sounded more like an excuse.

“it’s fine,” you replied with a small, forced smile. “it’s a huge opportunity. i’m proud of you guys.”

and you were. but beneath the pride was a sharp ache — an understanding that this would mean months of not seeing her, of waiting for calls that might never come.

and what might be the end of your relationship.

after dinner, you were curled up on the sofa, leaning against the back of it while aeri and yizhuo picked a movie to watch and minjeong finished up the dishes.

“you mean you have terrible taste,” yizhuo shot back at something aeri said, crossing her arms as she stood near the couch.

“please tell them notting hill is a masterpiece,” yizhuo pleaded, looking at you for reassurance.

“it is,” you said, laughing softly. “julia roberts is iconic.”

“see!” she yelled triumphantly, flopping onto the couch.

as they began another argument about snacks and who got control of the remote, you really settled onto the couch, letting the warmth of their presence ease some of the tension that had been building in your chest for days.

the argument over the movie ended in a win for yizhuo and the group eventually settled into the couch with bowls of popcorn. the soft glow of the television illuminated the room as notting hill began, the familiar soundtrack filling the air.

minjeong sat down beside you, the couch sinking further. “sorry,” she pursed her lips.

you playfully rolled your eyes, groaning. “i was already comfortable!”

your phone sat untouched on the coffee table, the screen dark. you couldn’t stop glancing at it, hoping it would light up with her name.

but it didn’t.

all the lights were turned off, the tv illuminating most of the apartment. it was late when the door finally opened, and karina stumbled in.

the first thing you noticed was the smell —alcohol, faint but unmistakable. she looked slightly disheveled, her hair loose and falling into her eyes, her cheeks flushed as if she’d been out drinking all night.

“y/n?” her voice was sharp, her brows furrowing as she stopped in her tracks. “what are you doing here?”

the room fell silent. yizhuo paused the movie, her gaze flicking between the two of you.

“we invited her,” minjeong said, standing up and crossing her arms. “she didn’t just show up, jimin.”

“are you drunk?” aeri asked concerningly, stepping closer to your girlfriend. “maybe sit down before you say something stupid.”

karina shot her a glare before turning back to you. “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

you frowned, your chest tightening at her tone. “because i didn’t think i needed to, karina.”

“you should have,” she snapped, frustration clear in her voice.

“okay, that’s enough,” aeri said, stepping between you two. “y/n didn’t do anything wrong. we invited her because we missed her.”

“can i have some privacy?” karina asked sharply, her gaze hardening.

aeri exchanged a look with yizhuo before sighing heavily. “fine. but don’t make this worse, jimin. and minjeong is another world you have to tackle.”

she and ningning retreated into the kitchen, but minjeong stayed rooted in place, her arms crossed as she watched karina carefully.

“minjeong,” she warned, her voice low.

“don’t start with me,” she replied, not moving an inch.

“i mean it,” she muttered, her tone sharper now. “go.”

minjeong looked at you, her gaze softening slightly. “are you okay?”

you nodded faintly, though your chest ached. “it’s fine. i’ll be fine.”

reluctantly, minjeong followed the others into the kitchen, leaving you and karina alone in the living room.

“what’s wrong with you?” you asked softly, your voice trembling. “why are you acting like this? i haven’t even seen you in days.”

she sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair as she slumped onto the arm of the couch. “i just…i didn’t expect you to be here, okay?”

“why does it matter?” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “you’re the one who hasn’t been around. what’s wrong with me spending time with people who actually want to see me?”

her face softened slightly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “it’s not that…i just wish you’d told me.”

“why? so you could avoid me too?” you asked bitterly, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “that’s not fair.”

“what’s not fair is me finding out about your world tour from them,” you said, your voice rising.

she froze, her eyes widening slightly.

“you didn’t even tell me,” you continued, your voice trembling. “you’ve had all this time, and you couldn’t say a word? do you know how that feels?”

“i was going to tell you,” she said defensively, though her voice lacked conviction.

“when, jimin?” you asked, stepping closer. “when it was too late for me to even process it? when you were already gone?”

she sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. “can we not do this here?”

“why not? because it’s inconvenient for you?” you shot back.

“because it’s not their business,” she snapped, gesturing toward the kitchen. “come with me. we’ll talk in my room.”

you hesitated, your chest tightening.

“y/n,” she said more softly this time, her voice steady but firm. “please. just come with me.”

you glanced toward the kitchen, where aeri and yizhup were clearly trying to eavesdrop. minjeong stood leaning against the counter, her expression unreadable as she watched you.

finally, you nodded, following her down the hallway.

as she opened the door to her room, she turned back to glance at minjeong.

“stay out of it,” she warned.

minjeong’s gaze narrowed, but she said nothing as you stepped into the room, the door closing softly behind you.

the room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater. karina stood by the door, her arms crossed, while you stood near her desk, trying to keep your emotions in check.

“so,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “you were going to tell me about the world tour?”

“i was,” she replied flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“when?” you asked, your voice sharper this time. “after you left? after i found out from some interview or social media post?”

“don’t be dramatic, y/n,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “i was going to tell you when the time was right.”

“the time was right weeks ago,” you snapped, your frustration spilling over. “do you even hear yourself? i’m supposed to be part of your life. why am i always the last to know about everything that matters?”

“because it’s hard,” she shot back, her voice rising. “it’s hard to keep up with everything. my career, my schedules, this relationship — you don’t get it.”

“no, i don’t,” you admitted, tears stinging your eyes. “because you don’t let me in. you shut me out. you don’t talk to me, you don’t tell me things, and then you act like i’m the problem for wanting to be included in your life.”

“maybe you are the problem,” she said coldly, the words cutting through the air like a knife.

you froze, staring at her in disbelief. “what?”

“you’re so needy, y/n,” she continued, her voice harsh. “you’re always clinging to me, always wanting more. i’m doing my best, and it’s never enough for you.”

“needy?” you repeated, your voice trembling with anger. “what the fuck?”

“yes, needy,” she snapped. “it’s like you can’t function without me. it’s not my fault you don’t have any other friends. you built your whole life around us, and now you expect me to do the same?”

the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, but you refused to let them stop you. “that’s not fair,” you whispered. “i sacrificed so much for you because i love you, karina.”

“life isn’t fair, y/n,” she said, her tone bitter. “and it’s not my fault you don’t have anything else going on. i didn’t ask you to make me the centre of your world.”

you stared at her, your chest tightening with each word she threw at you. “jimin, do you even hear yourself right now?”

“i do,” she said sharply. “and you should, too. my world doesn’t revolve around you, y/n. it never did, and it never will. my life will keep spinning with or without you in it.”

the words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. for a moment, the room was silent, save for the sound of your shaky breathing.

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“maybe i do,” she muttered, looking away. “you don’t belong in my —“

your chest tightened painfully, and before you could think, you raised your hand and slapped her right across the face.

the sound echoed through the room, sharp and final.

her head snapped to the side, her hand flying up to her cheek as she stared at you coldly — eyes devoid of the love she held for you that filled them.

“you don’t get to talk to me like that,” you said, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “not after everything we’ve been through. not after everything i’ve done for you and all the bullshit you put me through.”

you grabbed the photo album from her desk, the one the girls had made for you.

“this was supposed to be a gift,” you shoved it into her hands. “for my birthday. the one you forgot. but i don’t want it anymore. you can have it.”

she stared at the album in her hands, her mouth opening slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

“we’re done, jimin, karina, or whoever the fuck you are right now,” you said, your voice breaking. “i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep loving someone who doesn’t love me back. it’s over.”

“y/n —” she began, but you shook your head, cutting her off.

“don’t,” you raised your hand, voice firm despite the tears streaming down your face. “don’t say anything. just…don’t.”

you turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

as you gathered the rest of your things with quiet sniffles, you felt a hand stop you. you looked up at minjeong with shaky breaths.

“let me help you, y/n,” she started putting your gifts in the box whilst aeri handed you your coat.

there was an unspoken silence — it told them everything they needed to know. as you left the dorm, the cold night air hit you like a wave, but it did little to numb the pain in your chest. and even though it felt like your heart was breaking into a million pieces, you knew it was the right thing to do.

because you deserved more than this.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the morning after the breakup, you woke up to a silence so thick it felt like it might suffocate you. the cozy apartment you once loved, nestled in the corner of a quiet street, now felt hollow.

this was the place where you’d built a life with jimin — before she was karina. it was your shared sanctuary, the place where laughter echoed in the evenings, where the smell of her favourite tea lingered in the air, where you both dreamed of a future that now felt like a distant memory.

you sat on the edge of the sofa, your phone in your hand. the screen lit up with a flood of messages — aeri, yizhuo and minjeong. they were worried, apologising for the night before, telling you they were there if you wanted to talk.

but you couldn’t face them. not because they’d done anything wrong, but because they were a part of jimin’s world; the one she didn’t want you to be a part of.

your thumb hovered over the screen for only a moment before you made the decision.

aeri-chan. ningx2. minjeonggg.

you blocked each of them, one by one.

when it was done, you set the phone down, staring at it blankly. it felt like another thread severed, another piece of your life with jimin falling away.

the next task was harder.

you stood in the middle of the bedroom you’d decorated for her, staring at the collection of her belongings scattered around. her favourite hoodie was still draped over the chair in the corner, her skincare products neatly lined up in the bathroom and stacks of her old clothes in the wardrobe.

with trembling hands, you began packing them into boxes. each item was a reminder of the life you’d built together, and as you held them, memories surfaced unbidden.

the books: the ones she’d never quite finished, tucked away on the shelf.

your hands moved methodically, placing everything into boxes, but your mind drifted. you remembered how she’d sit at the tiny kitchen table, humming softly as she waited for you to finish cooking. how she’d sneak up behind you while you painted, her arms wrapping around your waist as she whispered, “you’re amazing, you know that?”

you paused when you came across framed photos of you throughout the years — from that one vintage photobooth in gangnam.

the tears didn’t come. you were past that now. there was only an ache; deep and heavy that settled into your chest like it might never leave.

you knew what you had to do.

the photos couldn’t stay. not for your sake, and not for hers.

gathering every picture of the two of you, you made your way to the kitchen. with a deep sigh, you lit the edges with a match, watching as the flames consumed the images.

it wasn’t anger that drove you. jimin was karina of aespa now, a name and face known to millions. these moments were yours, and yours alone. no one else needed to see them.

as the last photo burned, you stood in the quiet kitchen, the faint smell of smoke lingering in the air.

you stood in the doorway, looking out at the space you had called home. the sofa where the two of you had spent countless nights watching movies. the tiny kitchen where you’d cooked her favourite meals. the walls that had once been filled with laughter and love.

you were going to miss this place; you had built a life with her here, after all.

it was the one place where she wasn’t karina, but just jimin.

that life was gone now.

within three days, with your dad’s help, you packed up your things and moved out of the apartment. he worked tirelessly, carrying box after box to the car, only pausing to check on you every so often.

“you okay?” he asked gently as you stood in the now-empty living room, staring at the bare walls.

you nodded, though your chest felt tight. “yeah. i just…i need a minute.”

he gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping outside, leaving you alone.

you took one last look around, the memories flashing before your eyes. the laughter, the love, the life you’d built here — they were all distant now.

then, you closed the door behind you, feeling both the weight of the past and the faintest glimmer of relief.

the air inside the gallery was heavy with the scent of paint and wood varnish, a smell that had always felt like home to you.

today, it carried a bittersweet edge. the light streaming through the windows highlighted the scattered boxes and carefully wrapped canvases as you stood in the centre of the room, trying to figure out where to begin.

“y/n, where do you want these?”

you turned to see jaehyung, one of your long-time students, balancing a stack of sketchbooks in his arms. his brows furrowed with focus, though his boyish grin peeked through.

“just over there by the window, jae,” you said, gesturing toward a corner where you’d already begun stacking supplies.

“got it,” he replied, setting them down gently before glancing around. “i can’t believe this place is closing. it feels…weird.”

“you’re telling me,” mr. kim chimed in from across the room, his usual warm demeanour tinged with sadness. he was one of your older students, a retired schoolteacher who’d taken up art as a hobby. “this gallery has been like a second home for us.”

you smiled faintly, though the weight of their words pressed on your chest. “it’s not forever,” you said gently. “just…a break. for now.”

mr. kim paused, studying you with his kind eyes. “sometimes a break is necessary, y/n. don’t forget, you’ve built something special here. we’ll be waiting when you’re ready to come back.”

“yeah,” jaehyung added, his grin widening. “and in the meantime, you’re stuck with us online.”

you laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “i’ll hold you to that. i expect all of you to still send me your projects, okay? no slacking off just because i’m not here to check in person.”

“you got it, boss,” jaehyung said with a mock salute, earning a chuckle from mr. kim.

the three of you worked steadily throughout the day, wrapping paintings, packing supplies, and carefully disassembling easels. the gallery grew quieter as the shelves emptied, the once-vibrant space slowly transforming into a blank canvas.

as the last box was taped shut, you glanced around the room, frowning.

this gallery had been your dream — a place where you could share your passion and build a community.

“y/n,” mr. kim said gently, interrupting your thoughts. “you okay?”

you turned to him, offering a small smile. “yeah. it’s just…hard to say goodbye.”

“it’s not goodbye,” jaehyung said quickly. “it’s ‘see you later.’ right?”

you chuckled, nodding. “right.”

once everything was packed, you sent out a final email to your students.

Dear Everyone,

The gallery will be closed until further notice. Thank you for your support, your creativity, and the joy you’ve brought into this space. I’ll miss seeing your faces every week, but this isn’t the end — just a pause.

If you need anything or want to continue lessons online, please don’t hesitate to reach out. You know where to find me.

With gratitude, Y/n

the last thing you did was hang a small notice on the gallery door.

you stepped back, staring at the sign as it swayed gently in the breeze. the weight of finality settled in your chest.

“ready?” jaehyung asked, stepping up beside you.

you nodded, taking one last look at the gallery before turning away.

“goodbye.”

“see you later,” mr. kim corrected you firmly.

the morning was cold, the air sharp and heavy with the promise of snow. as you carried the last box of your ex-girlfriend’s belongings down the stairs.

mrs. choi’s apartment was just two doors down from yours and when you knocked, she answered almost immediately, her warm, familiar smile faltering slightly when she saw your expression.

“y/n-ah,” she said gently, stepping aside to let you in. “come in, come in. it’s freezing out there.”

you stepped inside, the warmth of her small, cozy apartment wrapping around you like a blanket. her place smelled of fresh kimchi and tea.

“you’re all packed, then?” she asked softly, gesturing for you to set the final box near her kitchen table.

“yeah,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “this is the last of it.”

she glanced at the box, her expression growing even softer. she reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “you’re really leaving, aren’t you?”

you nodded, swallowing hard. “i need to, ajumma.”

she looked at you for a long moment, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you and jimin…always thought you two would make it. watching you both grow up, seeing the love you had — it was something special, y/n.”

her words made your throat tighten, but you forced a small smile. “it was special,” you said quietly. “it just…wasn’t enough.”

she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “sometimes, the ones we lose find their way back to us,” she murmured. “not always, but sometimes. and if they don’t, it’s only because something better is waiting.”

you looked down at your hands, her words both comforting and bittersweet.

“you’ve always been kind, y/n,” she continued, her voice warm and steady. “to jimin, to everyone. don’t let this make you hard. the world needs more people like you.”

her words brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly, not wanting to break down here. “thank you, mrs. choi. for everything.”

she smiled, patting your hand before glancing at the box. “i’ll keep this for her. she’ll come by eventually and i’ll make sure she gets it.”

“thank you,” you said again, your voice barely above a whisper.

as you stood there, ready to leave, she suddenly tilted her head, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “now, tell me, is she on tv?”

you blinked, surprised by the question. “yeah,” you said softly, a small, proud smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “she’s doing really well. she’s…she’s amazing.”

her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together. “i knew it was her and my mahjong friends called me crazy. she must be famous!”

you nodded, the pride in your chest mingling with the ache of loss. “she is now.”

she frowned, reaching out to pull you into a hug, her small frame surprisingly strong as she held you close. “you’ll be okay, y/n,” she said softly. “i know you will. and wherever you go, they’ll be lucky to have you.”

“thank you,” you murmured, your voice breaking slightly as you clung to her for just a moment longer.

when you finally stepped back, she smiled at you again, her eyes filled with a quiet sadness but also hope.

“goodbye, mrs. choi,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the doorknob.

“goodbye, y/n-ah,” she replied, her voice warm. “don’t be a stranger. and remember — sometimes, lost ones find their way home.”

as you stepped out into the cold morning air, her words stayed with you, wrapping around your heart like a fragile thread of hope.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the christmas tree sparkled in the warm glow of the living room, the scent of pine mingling with the faint aroma of mulled wine and cinnamon candles.

you carefully placed the last ornament — a delicate glass bauble your mum insisted on saving for last: on the highest branch.

“perfect,” your dad said, stepping back to admire the tree with a satisfied nod. “i’d say we’ve outdone ourselves this year.”

“we always do,” your mum chimed in, setting down a tray of wine glasses on the coffee table.

you stepped back, joining them as the three of you stood side by side, taking in the sight of your handiwork. the tree was a masterpiece, adorned with years of collected ornaments, each one holding a memory.

she handed you a glass of merlot, raising hers with a smile. “to family,” she said softly.

“to family,” you and your dad echoed, clinking glasses.

the warmth of the wine spread through you, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of peace.

you sank into the couch with your parents, the fire crackling softly in the background. as you sipped your drink, the weight of the past few months hung heavy in the air.

“this isn’t how i thought the year would end,” you admitted quietly, staring at the tree. “i mean…i didn’t think i’d be single for christmas.”

your mum placed a gentle hand on your knee, her eyes soft with understanding. “life has a way of surprising us, sweetheart. sometimes in ways we don’t expect.”

your dad nodded, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “but you’re here with us now, and we couldn’t be prouder of you, y/n. you’ve handled everything with so much grace.”

their support wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. “i don’t know what i’d do without you two,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “thank you. for everything.”

she smiled, squeezing your knee. “you don’t have to thank us. that’s what family is for.”

there was a pause, a comfortable silence as the three of you sat together. then your mum broke it, her tone gentle but curious. “so, what’s next for you, y/n? what’s the next chapter?”

you hesitated, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts. “actually,” you began slowly, “there’s something i haven’t told you.”

both of them turned to you, their expressions attentive.

“way before aespa debuted,” you said softly, “a gallery in paris has been sending me yearly invitations for an artist-in-residence program. it’s a huge opportunity…one i’ve always dreamt of. but…i kept declining.”

your dad frowned slightly. “why?”

you took a deep breath, the words heavy on your tongue. “i didn’t want to be far away from her. i didn’t want to miss any part of her life, specially when she was working so hard to make her dreams come true.”

your mum’s expression softened, her eyes glistening. “oh, y/n…”

“i made a lot of sacrifices,” you admitted, your voice steady but quiet. “and i don’t regret loving her. but now…i think it’s time i start saying yes to things for me.”

“are you going to accept this time?” he asked, his voice full of quiet encouragement.

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i already did. i’m going to paris a week after the new year.”

she gasped, her smile wide as she reached over to hug you tightly. “paris! oh, sweetheart, that’s wonderful!”

“about time you did something for yourself,” he added with a proud grin.

she pulled back, a playful glint in her eye. “do they have any good korean restaurants in paris?” she asked your dad.

he chuckled, shaking his head. “we’d better find out.”

“maybe we’ll come with you,” your mum teased, winking at you.

you laughed, the sound light and genuine. “you two would love it.”

“to paris next week then!”

that night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, your thoughts drifted to jimin.

there was no anger in your heart, no hatred for her. you couldn’t hate her. she wasn’t a bad person. she wasn’t even a bad girlfriend — not entirely.

she was just someone who had been swept up in a world that demanded more than she could give.

you thought about who she was before the world knew her as karina — the girl who made you laugh until your sides ached, who held you when you cried, who whispered dreams of forever into the quiet of the night.

you had grown up together, loved each other deeply. and while it didn’t last, it had been real.

“thank you,” you whispered into the darkness, not knowing if the words were meant for her, yourself, or both.

as you closed your eyes, the weight of the past began to lift, paris awaited.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

jimin stumbled out of her car, the freezing air biting at her cheeks as she stared up at the familiar apartment building. the snow fell in slow, heavy flakes, blanketing the quiet street in white. her breath came in uneven puffs, her heart pounding harder with every step she took toward the door.

her first day off in weeks and all she could think about was you. it had been over five weeks since she’d seen you and she couldn’t ignore the ache in her chest any longer.

it was the first time she’d had enough space to think, to realise just how much had slipped through her fingers. she told herself it wasn’t too late, that if she just got to you, everything would be okay.

she could explain, apologise, fix things — really try her hardest this time.

her hand trembled as she unlocked the door, her key sliding into place like muscle memory. she pushed it open, half expecting to see you curled up on the couch with a book or maybe in the kitchen painting something.

the first thing she noticed was the silence, heavy and suffocating. her eyes darted around the space, searching for any sign of you, but everything was gone.

the walls, once decorated with your paintings and small shelves of trinkets, were bare. the bookshelf was empty. the worn-out sofa, still in its usual spot, felt smaller without your blanket draped over it or the little pillow you always used.

“y/n?” she called out, her voice cracking.

no answer.

she stepped further inside, her footsteps echoing in the hollow space. the bedroom door was open, and when she walked in, the emptiness struck her all over again.

the closet was empty. no clothes, no art supplies, no trace of you. the desk where you used to work on sketches late at night was gone, leaving only faint scuff marks on the floor.

her chest tightened as she stood in the centre of the room, her breathing shallow.

“no,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head. “this isn’t…this can’t be —”

she turned back to the kitchen, her eyes frantically scanning the counters, hoping to find something that would tell her where you’d gone.

that was when she saw it — a folded piece of paper with her name written in your handwriting.

her hands trembled as she picked it up and opened it.

“jimin,

i’ve left a box of your things with mrs. choi. there are about three of them filling up her apartment. please pick it up when you can. i asked her to keep it safe for you.

take care,

y/n.”

the note slipped from her fingers, landing softly on the floor.

for a long moment, she stood there, staring at the paper, her mind racing. you were gone.

her next stop was mrs. choi’s apartment, just two floors down. the elderly woman answered almost immediately, her kind face softening when she saw jimin.

“jimin-ah,” mrs. choi said gently, stepping aside to let her in. “come in, dear. you must be freezing.”

she stepped inside, her eyes darting around as though expecting to find some sign of you here, even though she knew better. “mrs. choi…where is she? she’s not at the apartment, and i…i thought maybe…”

she sighed, her expression tinged with sadness. she gestured toward a neatly packed boxes sitting by the sofa. “y/n left before christmas, dear. she asked me to hold onto these for you.”

jimin stared at the boxes, her chest tightening. “she…she left?”

mrs. choi nodded, her voice soft. “she didn’t say much else, just that it was time for her to go.”

the words hit her like a physical blow, and her knees nearly buckled. “i didn’t think she’d actually leave,” she whispered, more to herself than to mrs. choi.

the older woman reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “you know, jimin, love can’t grow if you don’t take care of it. even the strongest love can wither if it’s left in the cold for too long.”

her eyes filled with tears, her throat tightening as she looked down at the box.

“sometimes,” mrs. choi continued, her voice even softer now, “the ones we lose find their way back to us. but you have to be willing to meet them halfway.”

jimin nodded numbly, unable to respond.

“thank your, ajumma,” she bowed her head. “i’ll have someone pick these up from you, but for now, i have to visit her gallery.”

the snow was heavier now, falling in thick flakes that clung to her hair and lashes as she sprinted down the familiar streets. when she reached the building, she stopped short, her heart sinking all over again.

the windows were dark, the inside barren. a small sign hung on the door:

“closed until further notice. thank you for everything.”

her hands pressed against the cold glass as she peered inside. the space that had once been alive with your creativity and passion was empty, stripped of all the warmth and colour that made it yours.

her forehead rested against the glass as tears streamed down her face, her breath fogging the window.

“y/n,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “please…”

but there was nothing.

jimin gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as tears blurred her vision. the snow fell heavier now, making it harder to see the road, but she didn’t care.

the silence in the car was unbearable, filled only with the sound of her shaky breaths and the occasional muffled sob. she couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t breathe properly. she had spent weeks distracted by her career, ignoring the growing distance between you and now the weight of what she had done — what she had lost — was crashing down on her.

she should’ve followed you that night.

her phone buzzed in the cupholder, and with trembling hands, she reached for it, barely able to see the screen through her tears. it was aeri.

“jimin, where are you?” aeri’s voice was steady but tinged with worry. “minjeong and ningning said you ran off. we’re freaking out —”

“she’s gone,” she interrupted, her voice cracking as the tears came harder. “aeri, she’s gone.”

“who’s gone?” aeri asked, her voice softening with concern.

“y/n,” jimin sobbed, gripping the phone as if it were the only thing anchoring her. “i went to the apartment, she’s not there. the gallery, it’s closed. mrs. choi said she left before christmas. i don’t know where else to look.”

“yu jimin, breathe,” aeri said firmly, though her voice remained gentle. “where are you now?”

“driving to her parents’ house,” she whispered. “i just…i need to see her. i need to fix this.”

“okay,” the other girl said. there was a brief pause before she added, “i’ll call our manager. we’ll come get you.”

“no,” jimin pressed on, her voice trembling. “just meet me there. please.”

“jimin,” aeri said again, her tone more insistent. “you shouldn’t be driving in this state. pull over. we’ll come get you, okay?”

she hesitated, her grip tightening on the wheel, but the desperation in aeri’s voice broke through her haze. finally, she pulled over to the side of the road, the car skidding slightly on the icy pavement.

“please hurry,” jimin whispered before hanging up.

when the van arrived, aeri was the first to step out, her face pale with worry as she rushed to jimin’s car. yizhuo and minjeong followed closely behind, their eyes wide with concern.

jimin opened the door, stumbling out into the snow as the sobs overtook her again.

“she’s gone,” she choked out, her voice barely audible. “i fucking ruined everything and now she’s gone.”

aeri caught her before she could fall, holding her tightly as she cried into her shoulder. yizhuo placed a hand on her back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, while minjeong stood close, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if trying to hold herself together.

“we’ll figure it out,” minjeong reassured her, though her voice trembled. “let’s just go to her parents’ house, okay? maybe they’ll know where she is.”

jimin nodded weakly, allowing them to guide her into the van.

the drive felt awfully long. when they finally arrived at your parents’ house, the driveway was empty, the windows dark.

her heart sank as the reality began to set in.

she stumbled out of the van, ignoring the biting cold as she made her way to the front door.

“y/n!” she shouted, her voice echoing into the still night. “please! i’m sorry! just talk to me!”

the silence was deafening.

she pounded on the door, her fist striking the wood harder and harder as tears streamed down her face.

“y/n!” she screamed again, her voice breaking.

there was no answer.

she backed away, her legs giving out as she fell into the snow. “no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “no, no, no…”

the sobs came harder, wracking her body as she clutched at the ground.

minjeong knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders while aeri crouched in front of her, gently holding her face.

“jimin,” yizhuo said softly, her voice breaking. “she’s not here. we need to go.”

“i can’t,” she sobbed, shaking her head violently. “i can’t leave. she has to come back. she…she has to.”

“she’s gone,” minjeong mumbled, her voice thick with emotion as she rubbed circles on her back. “but it doesn’t mean she’s not coming back.”

jimin let out a guttural scream, the sound ripping through the night as she collapsed into minjeong’s arms.

“please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible now. “just let me stay. please.”

their manager stepped forward, his expression filled with sympathy. “karina, we need to go. it’s not safe out here.”

jimin shook her head, her tears freezing on her cheeks. “i can’t…i can’t leave her. i can’t.”

aeri’s voice cracked as she gently pried jimin away from ningning. “jimin, she’s not here. staying won’t change that.”

finally, after what felt like hours, jimin allowed them to guide her back into the van. her body felt heavy, her mind numb as she stared out the window at the dark house, her tears falling silently.

as the van pulled away, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the empty driveway in white.

and for the first time, jimin truly understood what it meant to lose the person she loved most.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

#karina imagines #karina x reader #kpop x reader #aespa x reader #aespa imagines #kpop gg #aespa #karina #angst #kpop imagines

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sxgakookie · 2 months ago

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Summary: Your husband, BTS’ Jung Kook, hasn’t been spending enough time at home with you or his daughter, Ji-ah. He decides to remind you both how important his girls are to him. Genre: Slight Angst (Ji-ah misses her dad), Fluff, Smut (idol!Jung Kook, dad!Jung Kook x Reader) Ratings/Warnings: Adults Only (Oral Sex [f receiving], shower sex, dirty talk, shower sex, orgasm [m+f]) Word Count: ~2.7k Author’s Note: I may make a Part 2 to follow this, if y’all like it! Just let me know if you’d like more from this little family! x

Jung Kook had never been as disappointed in himself as he was in that moment.

A little after two in the morning, with the jingling of his keys, he opened up the locked door to find a dark living room, only lit by the large television still streaming cartoons at a low volume from above the unlit fireplace. He could see, as he kicked off his shoes next to the front door, two sleeping figures snuggled into each other on the large, sectional sofa.

Jung Kook quietly walked over to see you, the love of his life and the mother of his daughter, sleeping uncomfortably on the couch. You looked absolutely exhausted, with your hair unbrushed and dark circles under your eyes. You were in the same pajamas he had left you in that morning, and resting in your arms, was his little girl. Ji-ah, who took after you in so many ways, was sleeping in your lap in almost the same position. Her head rested against your chest, and her small hands gripped onto the sleeves of your henley shirt. Her eyes fluttered as she was dreaming, and her small lips were parted.

Jung Kook kneeled down next to the sofa and brushed a soft piece of hair from your face, admiring how even when completely burned out, you’re still so, incredibly beautiful.

Your eyes fluttered under the warmth of his touch, letting out a soft hum as you leaned into his hand.

“Honey?” You whispered. “Is that you?”

“It’s me, baby. I’m home.” He whispered. “I’m going to take Ji-ah to her room, ok? Why don’t you go to our room and get some rest?”

“Mm’kay.” You said, feeling the warmth of your daughter’s little body taken from your weak arms.

Jung Kook walked down the hallway with Ji-ah snuggled into his arms. He tried to limit the harshness of his step, but his little girl had stirred awake anyways.

“Appa?” She murmured, her tiny voice causing Jung Kook’s heart to warm.

“Hi, princess.” He whispered. His tattooed hand ran up and down her little back, trying to coax her back to sleep. “Appa’s just taking you to your room, ok? So Umma can sleep.”

“Umma was sleeping.” She pouted, correcting her Appa as she pressed her face into his neck.

“I know, baby.” Jung Kook said gently. “But you need to sleep in your big girl bed by yourself tonight, ok?”

She sighed, and Jung Kook held in a laugh. His baby definitely got her sass from her mother, but was too worn out to argue.

When he reached her bedroom, he turned on the light to its dimmest setting, not wanting to overwhelm Ji-ah with a bright light. He walked past Barbie dolls, a play kitchen set, and a bookshelf of children’s books with a soft pink reading chair next to it. Scattered on the floor were tiny dresses from her dress up trunk; a white, wooden box that Ji-ah and Jung Kook had painted together one summer afternoon. His expertly painted butterflies and flowers sat side by side with her messy lines of purple and pink paint.

Jung Kook settled her into her twin size bed, tucking her in and whispering an “I love you”, before kissing her hair. He turned to go to you, when her voice perked up.

“Appa!” She wined, sitting up in her bed.

“Yes, baby?” Jung Kook asked, crouching down to be eye level with the little girl.

She became quiet. Ji-ah sat with a pout on her tiny lips, and she began to play with her blanket as a way to self-soothe. Jung Kook watched her face as she began to cry, tears running down her soft, squishy cheeks.

“Why are you crying, princess?” Jung Kook asked, his heart dropping at the sight of his baby crying.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she chose to make grabby hands towards him as she cried, shattering his heart.

“Sweetie…” He cooed. Jung Kook somehow managed to make room for his big body in her twin bed, pulling her into his arms to comfort her. He wiped the tears from her cheek. “Shh, I’m right here. Can you tell Appa what’s wrong?”

“Hurt.” She sniffles, wiping her own eyes with the back of her little hand.

“Hurt?” Jung Kook asks, his brows furrowed as his protectiveness bubbled up. “Do your feelings hurt, or does your body hurt?”

It was a question Jung Kook had heard you ask Ji-ah during one of her fits, teaching her to articulate her needs.

“Feelings.” She murmured.

“Can Appa know why your feelings are hurt?” Jung Kook asked gently, brushing her hair from her face soothingly. His mind went to a thousand terrible places, wanting to get rid of whatever could’ve hurt his little girl. “You know you can tell me anything, ok baby? Appa will make it better.”

The answer, however, felt like a gut punch to Jung Kook.

“Miss you.” She mumbled, moving in closer to the comfort of her Appa’s presence.

Jung Kook instinctively wrapped his arms around her, as he held back his own tears. He knew he had been working way, way too much. He was increasingly coming home late, and leaving early in the morning. He had little to no time for either his daughter, or for you. It was something he felt guilty about, but he told himself that Ji-ah didn’t notice, and that he was doing good by making sure his family was provided for.

But providing for his family meant more than just having food on the table. It meant that everyone sat together at the table. Ji-ah had noticed his empty chair after all, and now, she cried for his attention and told him her feelings were hurt. Jung Kook had never felt so angry with himself, holding her in his arms a little tighter.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He whispered. “Appa’s been gone a lot, haven’t I?”

“Mhm.” She hummed, nodding her head against his chest. “Want you to play with me.”

Jung Kook remembered playing with his daughter every day; letting her put clips in his dark hair during dress up time, color in his tattoo sleeve with a magic marker as if it were a coloring book, or doing cartoony voices as Ken to her Barbie, making Ji-ah light up the room with sweet giggles. (“That’s silly, Appa!”)

She should never have to cry for his attention and for more play time together. Jung Kook knew that, and it made him feel painfully guilty for not prioritizing their time together.

“Listen, baby.” Jung Kook said delicately, rubbing her back comfortingly as she quieted down from her cries. “I’ll be home more, so we can play together, ok? I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. Appa has been working very hard for you and Umma, but we’ll do lots of fun things together soon.”

“Umma?” She sniffled, making Jung Kook coo.

“With Umma.” He smiled warmly. “Can I tell you something, sweetie?”

“A secret?” She whispered, with her big brown eyes sparkling as her gaze met his own. Jung Kook grinned at his little girl’s playfulness.

“A secret.” Jung Kook confirmed. She giggled mischievously. “You and Umma, are my favorite girls in the entire world.”

Ji-ah’s smile became wider and she kicked her little feet under the blanket. Jung Kook peppered little kisses all over he cheeks, making her break out in a fit of happy giggles. This was all he’s ever wanted; his little girl to feel safe, taken care of and happy in the security of his arms; to protect and provide for his girls.

When Ji-ah finally settled down, Jung Kook whispered another “I love you” to her, and placed one more kiss to her dark hair.

“Love you!” She responded, watching as Jung Kook turned off her ceiling light, flipped the switch on for her butterfly-shaped night light, and shut her door for the night.

He walked into the now empty living room, and cleaned up a few pink sippy cups, plastic snack plates, and throw blankets that were tossed around. Jung Kook thought to how you must’ve felt during all those days when he was gone. Waking up to an empty bed, and going to bed alone, too. Cooking, cleaning, and being a mother to Ji-ah on your own for several months.

You never complained. Never told him you felt sad, or alone, because you understood how time-intensive his work as an idol can be. But Jung Kook knew that was no reason to leave you completely alone, and although you understood and supported him, Jung Kook wanted you to know that he was there for you, too.

He turned off the lights and went into the bedroom, where your exhausted form slept soundly. Jung Kook thought back to your appearance today; exhausted, dark circles under your eyes and pajamas that you just never had time to change out of. It broke his heart because you give so much of yourself for your daughter.

Jung Kook went into the master bathroom attached to the bedroom to take a shower. He thought about how little time he’s spent with you, too. When was the last time he took you out on a real, proper date? When was the last time he cooked for you, something that he used to do all the time? When was the last time he took his time to really make love to you, not just a quickie during Ji-ah’s nap time or before she came home from daycare?

He wanted to make you feel beautiful, needed and appreciated. Jung Kook stepped out of the shower, drying off his toned body with a white towel before putting on a fresh pair of boxers and pajama pants to finish his routine. He climbed into bed next to you, and pulled you in to him, holding you close in his arms. You were wearing a soft, large t-shirt that he knew to be his own.

“I love you, baby.” He whispered, knowing you wouldn’t hear him in your sleep. “I’m so sorry I let you down.”

The next morning, you woke up to tingling in between your legs. Your eyes were shut, but as you slowly came out of your sleep, you felt soft, wet kisses up your thighs.

You hummed, and felt a nibble to your skin.

“Shhh,” Jung Kook whispered, tucked under the sheets and nestled in between your thighs. “Just relax baby girl, let me take care of you.”

“Koo…” You hummed. “I… I’m not pretty there right now, I haven’t shaved or-“

“You’re so beautiful.” He reassured you, continuing to kiss your skin. “So perfect and so sexy, just how you are. Relax for me, honey. Just wanna give your pretty pussy some love and attention, ok?”

Jung Kook peppered soft kisses along your delicate folds, warming your pussy to his touch. It had been quite some time since he’s pleasured you like this, and he imagined that you were sensitive. Correctly, it seemed, because even with the slightest flick of his tongue to graze your opening, testing the waters, you whimpered.

“Shhh, quiet, baby girl.” He whispered. “We can’t wake up Ji-ah… Wanted you for myself this morning.”

You smiled at the warmth of his voice, and curled your toes as his tongue licked deeper and deeper into your most sensitive spots, drinking from your body. You began to grip the sheets as his tongue moved up, finding your sensitive clit and gave slow, pressured licks.

“Oh, fuck…” You whispered, trying to contain yourself. Your hands gripped the pillows by your head.

Jung Kook, buried under the blankets, couldn’t see you, much to his frustration. Without disconnecting his tongue to your delicate pearl, he lifted the blankets off of him, so he could watch your face as you gave into the pleasure he provided.

He listened to your little whimpers, egging him on to continue. His own cock was hard and leaking in his pants, which he soothed only somewhat successfully by rutting into the mattress. Jung Kook wanted so badly to take you completely, but he had a plan. This morning was completely about you.

He slid one finger into your opening, gently and lovingly working your body to take him again, watching your expression for signs of discomfort. Your pussy had always been small, needing to be stretched patiently, and Jung Kook was eager to please. Once his finger was completely in, he pulled out and pushed back in, repeating his movements with the continued roll of his wet tongue on your clit.

“Jung Kook… fuck… please, baby…” You babbled in a quiet voice.

Then another finger, stretching you a little more. His own length was pressing uncomfortably between his stomach and the mattress below, but Jung Kook focused his attention on you. He boldly sucked on your clit, making you cover your mouth to hold back a loud whine.

“That’s it, baby girl.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your sweet clit. Jung Kook curled his fingers just right, making you grip the pillows even harder somehow. “You like that, baby? Hm? You’re dripping wet. Wanna watch you cum for me.”

“Jung Kook..” You chanted, moving a hand to find the dark locks of his hair and run your fingers through them. Jung Kook lowered himself back to your clit, finding the steady rhythm and pressure that he knew would break down the last of your walls.

He knew he found the right combination, when your grip of his hair tightened. Jung Kook wrapped a strong arm around one of your thighs, just enough to keep you held down to the bed, so he could taste every last drop without having you squirm away from the intensity of the pleasure. Keeping you locked in place, he worked your body like breaking into a lock; the curl of his fingers, the pressure and rhythm of his tongue’s wet and gentle massage to your clit. Each movement worked together to unlock your climax, which came crashing onto the bed with shaking legs, curling toes, and pulling Jung Kook’s hair.

He loved watching you come undone just for him. Jung Kook held your shaking legs, and slowly, steadily, brought you back down to earth. His licks became even more delicate, careful not to overstimulate you, but enough to drink you in. He slowly pulled his fingers out of the warmth of your opening, before crawling on top of your spent body.

“Taste it?” He asked, raising his wet fingers to you. You looked at him with innocent eyes as you parted your lips, and let him slide in on your tongue.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He whispered, watching and feeling the way you sucked his fingers clean.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, and kissed your lips lovingly. His kisses moved down, from your lips to your cheeks, then your jaw, and down your neck.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He whispered. “You have no idea what you to do me, honey. So fucking beautiful.“

“Jung Kook.” You cooed and blushed, feeling him nibble and suck love marks into your neck.

“Take a shower with me, before she wakes up.” He proposed. “I’m not ready to let you go just yet, baby.”

The morning before Ji-ah woke up was peaceful, and deeply intimate. You couldn’t stand to not help your husband with his aching cock, letting the hot shower water steam up the bathroom to cover the lewd scene, where Jung Kook pressed your naked body into the tile wall of the large shower and sunk his length deep into your pussy. The running water gave cover to the grunts, whimpers, and the dirty but loving words that followed. With stuttered curses and deep, breathy moans against your neck, Jung Kook spilled into you. It was the first time he had been truly intimate with you in so long, and his body must’ve craved your body’s warmth, desperately releasing everything he had deep into you.

When you exited the shower, you both got dressed in comfortable clothes just in time, as Ji-ah’s little feet could be heard tapping against the hardwood floors of the home.

“Stay here.” He murmured, hugging you from behind in the warm bathroom, placing a kiss to you cheek. “Take your time getting ready, ok? No rush. I’ll take care of her.”

“You sure?” You asked, as you were so used to being the first one to go to her.

“Definitely.” He smiled, thinking back to his promise to the little girl.

#jungkook fic #jung kook fic #jung kook fics #jungkook fics #bts #bts fics #bts fic #jung kook fluff #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #my writing #jungkook smut #jung kook smut #bts smut #dad!jungkook #idol!jungkook #dad!jung kook #idol! jung kook

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vivwritesfics · 11 months ago

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Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Three - Playdate

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.5K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

Daniel held Olivia's hands as they walked towards the house. There was a cat sat outside of the door, watching as the approached. When they got too close, the cat scarpered, running into the neighbours garden.

Stepping up to the door, Daniel knocked. He squeezed Olivias hand as they waited for the door to open.

"Coming!" Came a faraway voice. In no time at all the door was open and Y/N was welcoming the two of them into her house.

"Hey Olivia!" Y/N cheered as she pulled open the door.

Daniel grinned as he and his daughter stepped inside. "Hey," he said as Y/N shut the door. "Thanks for doing this." He muttered the last part, trying not to let Olivia hear him.

"It's no problem," she said, walking in front of them and leading them into the living room. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"

As soon as Olivia was in the living room, Milo was on his feet, shouting his name as he ran towards her. The two embraced and Milo pulled her into the middle of the room, where he had a collection of toys already set out. "My Momma said we can watch a movie while we play," he said, sitting on the floor.

As the two began playing, Daniel sat on one of the sofas and Y/N walked in with glasses of water for her guests. "What're we watching, kids?" She asked as she sat on the opposite side of the sofa to Daniel.

"Barbie," Olivia said instantly.

"Momma no! I don't want to watch barbie!" Milo suddenly called.

Y/N opened a streaming service and began scrolling through the kids section. "How about we find something we can all agree on?" She said calmly as she searched for a movie.

They settled on the Lorax. The kids played as Daniel and Y/N watched over them, the film playing in the background.

As they played, Y/N shuffled closer to Daniel. "I wasn't sure what to get for dinner so I got several different pizzas. I hope that's okay."

"That's more than okay," Daniel said as he took off his Red Bull hat. "Olivia doesn't get pizza very often."

"Why's that?" She asked as she looked at him, her body full turned towards him (this didn't go unnoticed by Milo and Olivia).

Daniels fingers drummed against the arm of the sofa. "She might have it at her mums place, but Livvy insists she eats like me when she's at mine so she can be just like her daddy."

Before Y/N could push for more information, Olivia turned around. "Daddy, shut up!" She called.

Suddenly, Daniel levelled her with a look. "Do you want to try that again, little lady?"

She blushed pink and looked down at her socks. "Daddy, could you be quiet so Milo and I can watch the TV?"

It was better, but Olivia still could have been politer. But Daniel let it go. He didn't push, didn't want to embarrass her in front of her friend.

Towards the end of the movie Y/N got up. She stood from the sofa and walked out of the room, leaving them there while she went to the kitchen. With the doors open, she could hear as the kids watched TV and played while she put the pizzas in the oven and set a timer on her phone.

After a short episode of scooby doo, the kids were sat at the kitchen table, two pizzas in front of them. They picked and chose which pizza they wanted, leaving what they didn't. Y/N knew they'd never eat it all, leaving what they didn't want for her and Daniel.

After they had eaten, Milo pulled Olivia out of the kitchen, and up to his bedroom. Poppy that cat had made her way up to his bedroom while they were all downstairs, sleeping on Milo's bed. But, as soon as she heard them running up the stairs, she scarpered, running down the stairs and out of the cat flap.

Full and tired from an afternoon of playing, Milo and Olivia soon found themselves asleep on the floor. Their parents found them when Y/N gave Daniel and tour of their small house. She picked up Milo and placed him in his bed as Daniel scooped up Olivia.

"I guess we should get going," he said, holding her in his arms.

Y/N looked towards her bedroom. She and Daniel hadn't had a proper chance to talk, and she wanted to know more. He was intriguing, incredibly so, and she wasn't ready to say goodbye. Not yet. "Well, you could let her have a nice little sleep in here," she said and pushed open her bedroom door.

Daniel grinned as he walked Olivia into the bedroom. He laid her down onto the bed and laid her down in it, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

Leaving the door open to give her some light, Y/N took Daniel back downstairs. They walked through the kitchen and out into the back garden. The porch light was on as they sat on the swinging chair and faced each other. "Can I ask you something rather personal?" She asked as she gently rocked the chair with her foot.

"Go for it," Daniel replied, Poppy the cat suddenly jumping up between them. She ignored her owner, immediately settling onto Daniels lap, promptly falling asleep.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath. It was something that had been weighing on her mind for the last week, something that Milo had told her when he first met Olivia. "Milo says Olivia doesn't like her mum. Can I ask what that's about?"

The smile dropped from Daniel’s face. He did that a lot, Y/N had begun to realise from the two times she had met him, He shifted in his seat as he scratched at Poppy’s coat. “Olivia doesn’t talk to me about what happens at her mum’s house. But she does talk to my parents. She doesn’t hit her, but she does make her miserable. Olivia gets locked in her room whenever she shows the slightest hint of attitude and her mum’s constant stream of boyfriends piss her off. She said that once, that they piss her off. I’ll let you guess where she learned that.”

Daniel went on, becoming more and more distressed. But Poppy pawing at his leg stopped him. He scratched at her chin and looked at Y/N, letting a smile cross his face. “Anyway,” he said. “My turn with the deep questions.”

He asked the one question Y/N wasn’t keen on answering. Not that she wanted it to be a secret, and she was definitely going to answer him. But after five years it still wasn’t the easiest subject to talk about.

“I was nineteen when I found out I was pregnant with Milo. I told my partner at the time, and he wanted nothing to do with me. I told my parents, and they wanted nothing to do with me. So I took off, moved out here, got a job and gave birth to Milo. It’s been just me and him ever since. His dad knows nothing about him and never will. It’s me and Milo against the world.” She sat up a little straighter. As it got later in the day, the sun began to dip and the air turned ever so slightly colder. “How about you? What happened with you and Olivia’s mother?”

Daniel shrugged his shoulders. He actually shrugged. What kind of response was that? But Y/N said nothing as he began talking. “We were in love, moved too fast. Olivia was born exactly nine months into our relationship, when I was racing in Silverstone-“ A fact Daniel would never forgive himself for, that he missed the birth of his daughter. “-Things had been sour between us since before Olivia was born, but we tried to stay together for her. But we realised she would have been growing up in a shitty environment, so we went our separate ways.”

They continued talking through the night, until Olivia and Milo came running downstairs, now wide away. Milo climbed into his mother’s lap while Olivia grabbed a hold of her father’s arm. “Daddy, can we live here?” She asked, reaching towards Poppy the cat.

Daniel laughed. He went to stand up, moving Poppy from his lap, and scooped Olivia into his arms. “Come on, Badger. Let’s get you home to bed.”

She pouted, laying her head on his shoulder. “Can we come back tomorrow?”

For a minute Daniel looked like he was thinking about it. “We could,” he mused. “Or we could take Y/N and Milo to the park, play on the swings and get some ice cream? How does that sound?”

Both kids cheered.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @stay1strongbeautiful @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @stay1strongbeautiful @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #dr3 #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months ago

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Sick III

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda gets sick

"Momma," You say, hopping down the last step," Morsa's throwing up in the bathroom again."

Pernille looks up from the stove and sighs. "I thought I told you that you weren't meant to go looking for Morsa?"

You shrug. "I didn't go looking for her."

Pernille doesn't believe you in the slightest.

Magda had come down with some sickness, likely the flu, a few days ago. It had started off as just an inconvenience, a stuffy nose and a few headaches. Then came the throwing up and Magda being forced to lean over the toilet bowl for a few hours in the night when she was meant to be sleeping.

Pernille knew it was wishful thinking to hope that the sickness remained with Magda only but you were a bit of a nightmare when it came to getting sick so she wanted to limit the chance of you catching it as much as possible.

If only you understood that because since Magda's sudden illness, you seem to have gotten incredibly clingy towards her like you don't want to stray out of her sight for whatever reason.

Pernille purses her lips as she looks at you, stirring the soup in the pot as she ponders what to do next.

"Why don't you have tv time?" She asks, finally settling on something to keep you occupied.

You don't get a lot of tv time, at least not where you're in control of the tv. You've never really craved it when you could play with girl-swan and girl-moose or kick a football around the garden.

But still, you're a little kid and kids love tv.

"I think Scooby Doo is on."

You think for a moment before your face twists into something akin to annoyance. "I don't like German Scooby Doo," You say," Can I watch Ben 10 instead?"

"Yeah, we can do that."

Pernille sets you up with an episode of Ben 10 in German and you settle on the sofa to watch it. With you now occupied, she sneaks up with a bowl of chicken soup just as Magda makes her way back to bed.

"You look...better."

"Don't lie." It's nice to see that Magda's humour is still there. "Is this for me?"

"Chicken soup." Pernille hands the bowl over. "You should probably wait for it to start cooling down."

"I'll be fine," Magda says," It's not like I can taste it so the heat might be the only enjoyable thing about it."

"How are you feeling? Do you need more medicine?"

"Can't take any yet. Hasn't been four hours but I'll be fine. I spoke to Linda. She said the throwing up only lasts a day. I'll be alright by tomorrow."

"Still," Pernille says," Eat your soup and drink lots of water. We're meant to be setting a good example to Princesse."

The corners of Magda's mouth quirks up a little. "Where is she? You know, I'd feel a lot better if she's here?"

Pernille rolls her eyes, scoffing. "Oh, I see. When I'm sick, I can't see her so she doesn't get infected but when you're sick, you can see her all you want? How is that fair?"

Her tone is teasing and Magda flashes a wolfish grin.

"Swedes don't infect Swedes. It's a rule."

"Well, it's great that she's Danish too, huh? No Princesse time for you until-"

"Hey, Princesse. What have you got there?"

Pernille whips her head around to see you standing by the door, clutching the little first aid kit that's usually hidden in the bathroom cabinet.

"I thought you were watching Ben 10?" She says as you come in, clambering up onto the bed and sitting on Magda's outstretched legs.

"Got bored," You reply, forcing the zip open and rummaging through it," I'm gonna make Morsa better though."

"She's sick, Princesse," Pernille says," Are you sure? You can get sick too."

You give Pernille the biggest judgemental look you can manage. "I know, Momma. I'm not silly. But I'm still going to make Morsa better."

In all honesty, Pernille is a little intrigued about how you're going to make Magda feel better with the first aid kit so she doesn't push anymore for you to leave the room.

"Does your head hurt?"

"Yes."

You bring out one of the bandages, winding it around Magda's head and tucking the end into itself.

"There you go!" You say," Now your head won't hurt. Does your throat hurt too?"

Magda nods.

You whip out one of the big plasters that's meant for big cuts and grazes on the knee and place it over Magda's mouth, making sure it's completely secure.

"You need to stop talking," You tell her sternly," Because that makes your throat hurt." You turn to Pernille. "Momma, I fixed her!"

Pernille has to force down her laughter at the bewildered expression on Magda's face.

"I can see that," Pernille says," We should leave Morsa alone now so she can recover. You did a good job."

You nod. "I know." You blow Magda a kiss. "I can't kiss you because then I'll get sick," You tell her," So have air kisses!"

You blow more kisses at Magda and shuffle off the bed, taking Pernille's hand.

"Can we finish watching Ben 10, Momma? It's a really good episode!"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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bunnylovesani · 1 year ago

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A Birthday Affair

Summary: It's your birthday and your best friend is making you a cake! Too bad she's left you home alone with her boyfriend, Anakin. She should've known you two had a thing for each other, right?

Content warnings: cheating, p in v sex, creampie, daddy kink

WC: 2.6k

“Alright guys, there’s only one shop that sells the buttercream we need and it’s way at the other end of town.” Padme shouts tiredly, grabbing her coat by the door. “Could’ve sworn I’d already picked some up…but anything for the birthday girl. I might be a while so make sure you keep an eye on the cake in the oven!”

“We’re not that incompetent, Padme.” Anakin rolls his eyes.

“Of course, we got it!” You answer as she leaves and turn to face Anakin. “You should really be nicer to her.”

“I’m plenty nice.” He responds. “And you’re the birthday girl, it’s you I need to be nice to.”

“But she’s your girlfriend. You’re obligated to be nice to her all year round.” You put the empty batter bowl into the sink as Anakin stares at you across the kitchen, leaning against the countertops.

“I’m about as nice to her as she is to me.” He murmurs and you look back in confusion. Were they having issues you didn’t know about?

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, Padme is the perfect girlfriend and you-“ You paused, looking at him up and down with a light scowl. “-well you’re you.”

“Ah, so you think I’m not good enough for her? How cliche.” He gives you a look of displeasure. “And what is it that makes me so unworthy of her company?”

“You’re not bad per se, you’re just…” You sigh, struggling to put your thoughts into words. “Look at it this way- Padme is one of those rare people. She manages to balance being successful and beautiful with somehow being humble and kind- I know for a fact she wakes up every morning to make you breakfast- and she does things like drive all over the city looking for a specific frosting for her best friend. That’s just the kind of person she is.” You ramble on, walking around the kitchen as Anakin stares at you in fascination.

“And then there’s you, who’s forgotten every anniversary and has been fired from every job because of his inability to control his temper. You see what I’m getting at?”

Anakin furrows his thick brows as he processes what you’re saying and you think he might get mad at you for a second but to your relief, he cracks a bright smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as much of a mess as you are. Just as unworthy.“ You laugh and a puzzling smirk crosses his face.

“So you’re saying I should be with someone better suited for me?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Someone like…you?” He raises an eyebrow.

You chuckle nervously and take a step back, suddenly aware of how close he’d gotten.

“Obviously not. I-I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.” Stuttering, you try to move away from him but he doesn’t budge, tall figure towering over you. That stupid smirk he has plastered over his face increases your heart rate tenfold.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Have I got you flustered?” He sneers.

“Stop playing around.” You push him away by his chest and escape to the sofa, slumping down it with a huff.

“Padme told me about the little crush you had on me.” He stands behind you and you refuse to face him, consumed with embarrassment.

“Crush is too strong of a word for what that was.” You feel your cheeks burning up at the memory; when you first met Anakin at that bar last Christmas, you’ll admit you initially wanted him all to yourself. But what were you supposed to do when Padme got to him first? You can’t believe she told him.

“So you don’t find me attractive anymore?” He asks in that provocative tone of his.

“The outer shell is fine but the inside could do with a little work.” You feign confidence, avoiding the question. To be truthful, you found him incredibly attractive. So much so that you actively avoided him because you felt yourself folding under pressure anytime he was near.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” He asked quietly, taking a seat on the footstool across the sofa.

“No, but I sense you’re going to anyway.” You brace yourself.

“That night I saw you and Padme playing pool at the bar.” He begins. “I wanted to approach you, not her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“But she came up to me first and when I asked her who her friend was, she told me you weren’t interested…in men.” Your mouth widens as his words linger in the air.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You stutter, feeling a small sense of betrayal run through you. “I don’t know why she’d do that.”

“Because she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise.” He gets up to sit next to you and you tense up at his knee lightly brushing past yours.

“I thought you were a lesbian for half the time I’ve known you- until you started dating that loser a few months ago and Padme had to come clean. She thought I’d find it funny.” He curls his lip in disgust.

“And did you?”

“No.” He responds, steely eyes staring right through you. “I’m still mad about it.”

“Anakin…” You cautiously murmur, sensing the direction this could so easily take.

“I’m just saying, remember that next time you want to rant about how great she is. If it wasn’t for her deceit, it could’ve been us together.” He rests his hand on your leg but you swiftly brush it off.

“But it’s not. And it never will be. You’ll always either be her boyfriend or her ex. Either way, you’re off limits.” You try to assert some boundaries before your self-control completely slips away from you.

“And if it weren’t for these limits?” He reaches his hand up, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Oh God, the cake! Must go and check on the cake.” You get up, trying to escape his grasp but he pushes you back down.

“I said what if it weren’t for those limits?” He repeats sternly and you can’t help but fixate on his rosy pink lips. You’d always wondered how they’d feel pressed up against yours.

“In another galaxy where you’d never met her-“ You sigh, walls crumbling down. “then I’d be yours.”

“Is that what you want?” His husky voice mutters, barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter because this isn’t another galaxy. This is reality.” You shuffle back a little in an attempt to impose some distance between you.

“Fuck reality. I want you.” He pulls you in and you’re hit with a wave of warmth radiating off his firm body.

“Anakin, no. Padme is my best friend! I’m not a homewrecker.” You cry out, unsure whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“You can’t wreck something that’s already fallen apart. I don’t care about her— I don’t care about any of it anymore. For God’s sake, I even hid the damn buttercream because I wanted her to leave us alone for a while.” Your mouth gapes open at his revelation.

“I knew it!” You point your finger at him but he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you onto him, faces barely an inch apart.

“I need you. In every way possible.” His voice is so breathy it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

“Ugh, Ani I-“

“Do you want me as much as I want you? Please, put me out of my misery.” He whines and you bite your lip over the beautiful desperation in his words.

“Of course I want you, I’ve always wanted you.” The words barely leave your mouth before he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you sloppily, grip on your jaw a little too strong. He has you gasping for air, stubbornly holding onto you like it was the last kiss he’d ever have.

“Don’t you worry about her, I’ll take care of everything.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb comfortingly and you feel all your worries melt away; he was here, he would fix it all.

“I’ve thought about this for so long.” You cry, pawing at him. The sense of elation you felt at finally being able to touch him, inhale him, taste him- after an eternity of forcing every feeling down. You did it all out of respect for Padme, out of respect for Ani who chose her- but now that you’d learned the truth, restraint flew out the window. He should’ve been yours- he is yours.

“Lie down for me sweetheart, I wanna see my pretty girl.” He pushes you down onto the sofa and inches your skirt down, admiring your pretty pink panties. “You wear these just for me?” You nod frantically- it’s true, you wore everything for him. Your best underwear, your prettiest lipstick, your shortest little skirts, it was all for him. He pushes your top up slowly, messy kisses being planted all over your tummy until he reaches your perky tits.

“Is there a reason you’re not wearing a bra, young lady?” He scolds you playfully.

“Mhm, it’s fun watching you fight the urge to stare at the way they bounce and jiggle.”

“You noticed that, huh?” You giggle at his honesty as he rips your top off, laughter instantly replaced with breathy moans as he squeezes your boobs harshly, taking turns sucking on the nipples.

“Best pair of tits I’ve seen in my life.” He mutters into your chest as he continues to kiss and lick all over, making you writhe underneath him.

“Ani, please.” You buck your hips up towards him, desperately needing more. “Hurry, we don’t know when she’ll be home.”

“Then it’s a good thing the door bolts shut from the inside.” He grins, hands trailing down between your thighs.

“Ani, no! We can’t lock her out, what would she think?”

“I don’t care, all I know is if I don’t get enough of this sweet pussy, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He groans as he hooks his arms under your legs and pulls you down, pulling your panties to the side. You bashfully cover your face with your hands as he rubs your clit with his thumb and when you peek through your fingers, you see him biting his lip and curving his eyebrows into a pitiful swoop. Just as you think it can’t get better, he lowers his boxers and frees his cock, heavy length slapping against his stomach. Not wanting to inflate his already engorged ego, you try not to look shocked- but he sees right through you.

“You tryin’ to make me feel bad, sweetie? No problem, I’ll have you squealing in a minute anyway.” He confidently asserts and you feel him rubbing his tip along your soaking folds; the anticipation alone is enough to make you throw your head back.

With one sudden thrust, he pushes himself into your tight pussy and you sink your teeth into the pillow beside you to conceal some of the noise. Reaching forward and grabbing it from you, he tosses it aside and grabs you by the jaw.

“I want to hear every little sound you make. Raw and unmuted.” He growls.

“B-but someone might hear-“

“I don’t give a fuck.” He asserts aggressively. “Let them hear. They might as well start getting used to it now.” You moan at his depraved words, drool forming around your lips.

“If you want something in your mouth that bad, here.” He offers you his fingers- which you accept gratefully, sucking and biting on them to your heart’s content. Just as you’ve adjusted, he slides the rest of his cock in- filling you so deeply you question how it’s even possible. The mewling that proceeds boosts Anakin’s ego more than is healthy; you pant and whine so fervently that you look like you’re on the verge of passing out. Your pupils are dilated, your hair messed up, your thighs dampened with arousal and sweat.

“Ani, mm fuck- fill me up, please!” You dig your fingernails into his back as he lowers himself to kiss your wet lips, silencing your sobs and pleading if only for a moment.

“You want my cum, sweetheart? You wanna be daddy’s cum slut, hm? Let me hear you say it.” His strokes get deeper and sloppier as he hurtles his way to his release.

“Yes daddy, yes! I wanna be your cum slut so bad, it’s the only thing I want.” You ramble, words barely audible over the loud sounds of smacking and squelching.

“I could never say no to you.” He whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck planting open-mouth kisses.

“I need it, need it noww.” You whine, tits bouncing into circles as he roughly pounds into you, strong hand maintaining a firm grip on your hip as he rams himself into you one last time: cum spilling from his tender cock and filling you up to the brim. Pulling out, the sensation of his cum dribbling out of you doubled with his thumb circling your clit sends you over the edge, orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. He rests his head on your chest as you both catch your breath, running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m gonna leave her.” He softly speaks. “I’m leaving and I’m telling her about us.”

Your heart seizes in both panic and excitement. There’s an us?

The familiar thud of footsteps in the hallway has you both scrambling to get dressed- you pull your top down and your skirt back on but can’t find your frilly panties anywhere. Anakin just about finishes zipping up his jeans when Padme walks in to the sight of her very flustered-looking best friend and boyfriend, sitting oddly far apart in unnatural positions on the couch.

“Hey guys, I had to check several different stores but I finally found the right buttercream, what have you- wait, do I smell something burning?”

Fuck, you forgot the cake.

Running over to the oven, she scrambles to pull out the smoking tray. Despair takes over her face when she sees the round crust, black as cinder.

“How did you forget?! What were you doing?” She yells, throwing the ashes straight into the bin and frowning at you.

“Nothing, Padme. We just got carried away chatting is all. ‘m really sorry.” You walk over to join her in the kitchen but start to feel Ani’s seed leaking out of your stretched-out hole and dribbling down your thighs. Noticing the glistening sticky wetness, Anakin rushes over in front of you to distract Padme.

“It was my fault, I said I’d keep track of time and I didn’t.” He explains, subtly tossing a kitchen towel your way.

“Classic Anakin, honestly a monkey would have better time management.” She hisses, barging past him and opening windows to let the smoke out. “No wonder you can’t keep a job.” He takes a shaky breath and you can see how hard he’s trying to restrain himself.

“Not now.” You think, giving him a knowing glare and he nods reluctantly. Padme stomps over to the bathroom and you quickly wipe the cummy mess off your thighs, giggling a little at the excitement of sneaking around. Anakin rushes over and gives you a feverish kiss, whispering in your ear “She goes to bed early, you know.”

Maybe you wouldn’t tell her just yet.

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10

Part 2 here

#hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x you #star wars smut #sam monroe #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars prequels #darth vader #padme amidala #sw prequels

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jude-duarte-wannabe · 3 months ago

Note

one order to be served by lewis carl davidson hamilton please!! oaty slice, english muffin, apple turnover and croissant with a side of tea, cider and pina colada 😁😁 reader is working remotely and having an online meeting but lewis is dying to eat her out and just do it while she was in the meeting 🥵💦

irresistible

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, i think this may be my longest story yet, i have been dying to write this and get back to writing after being gone so long, i hate promising to post and then not being able to cause of work, sorry for the late reply <3 your requested prompts will be bolded

pairing; husband lewis hamilton x female wife reader

blurb; working from home while trying to hide the fact that your married and pregnant is hard when your husband can't keep is hands to himself, he's just lucky you love him aka lewis eats his wife out while she's on a zoom call

warnings; oral fem!receiving, thigh kisses, belly kisses, semi public sex, body worship, pregnancy kink. [let me know if i missed anything]

tea; semi public sex cider; body worship pina colada; pregnancy oaty slice; "you smell like me" english muffin; "i could die between these legs" apple turnover; "can you keep it down in there" changed to "can you keep it down under there" croissant; "don't you dare"

words; 3.1k

currently playing; hands to myself by selena gomez "can't keep my hands to myself, no matter how hard i'm trying to"

"oh god dammit, boba no!" you scolded your two year old calico who sat on the stool next to your laptop, swatting at the screensaver you had set, picking her up you stepped out of the little home studio you'd made for yourself during the covid days.

"lew!" you called out waiting for an answer but after not getting one, you wandered down the hall and into the living room, as you carried boba into the living room, she squirmed in your arms, clearly displeased at being removed from her new favorite perch, you sighed, scratching behind her ears to relax her "i know, i know the pretty lights are fun, but mommy needs to work."

as you entered the living room, you noticed lewis sprawled out on the couch, completely engrossed in whatever he was watching on his phone. you rolled your eyes fondly, a soft smile decorating your face as you realized why he hadn't answered your call.

"lew..." still no response as his eyes remained trained on his phone "lewis hamilton" you scolded and that caught his attention immediately, looking up at you with soft eyes as he dropped his phone.

"am i in trouble.." he gulped, looking sheepish as he responded.

"not yet," you said, your tone softening as you took in his worried expression. "but you will be if you don't start paying attention."

you merely dropped boba onto his lap and crossed your arms over your chest "please keep her out of my studio... the album is due at the end of the month and i still have three songs to finish" you groaned.

he nodded numbly which made you feel guilty for scolding him over something so silly and so you lent down and placed little kisses against his lips "i'm sorry i called you lewis" you mumbled as your thumb gently traced over his cheek. "you'll always be my lew"

you left him on the sofa, shuffling to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge but before you could move and return to your studio, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, cradling your pregnant belly lightly.

"you smell like me bub" lewis mumbled into the skin of your neck, which sent shivers zipping up and down your spine.

you leaned back into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his body against yours. a soft smile played on your lips as you placed your hands over his, intertwining your fingers.

"i should hope so," you murmured, turning your head slightly to catch his eye, resting it on his shoulder. "i've been wearing your sweater all day."

he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. "i noticed," he said, his arm tightening around you. "it looks incredible on you."

"well i unfortunately have to take it off soon" you groaned "stupid zoom meeting with my producer"

lewis sighed, running his fingers over your bump, the soft fabric of his over sized sweater rubbing on your skin gently. "can't you just keep it on for the meeting?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

you shook your head, a wry smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "not unless i want to explain to my producer why i'm wearing 'the' lewis hamilton's sweater" you giggled.

lewis chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "but i'd love to see see his reaction." his voice dropped into a whisper, your producer had always been flirty with you mainly because he thought you were single and lewis hated it.

you playfully swatted his arm, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his proximity and tone of voice. "that's horrible lew"

"i hate the way he flirts with you, your mine" he growled against the skin of your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin. "and this proves it" his finger ran over the cold metal of your wedding band.

"your lucky i love you lew, your so possessive and you and i both know you like keeping this private, i like it being just us" you giggled, removing yourself from his grip, pulling his sweater up and over your head, placing it on the counter.

you stood on your tippy toes to peck his lips "love you, i should go" and with that you made your way back to your studio, almost waddling due to the size of your belly.

as you walked, lewis couldn't help but admire you in your white floral maternity dress, he couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in his belly or resist the surge of desire that simmered within him.

lewis had always found you irresistible but now that you were pregnant he could hardly ever keep his hands to himself anymore, working on your newest album was the only break you got from his ever wandering hands.

but unfortunately for you, it seemed that not even that would be enough to stop lewis anymore, he made his way to your home studio, feet padding on the hardwood floors as he went.

you wouldn't have even known that lewis was there, leaning against the door-frame had he not accidentally bumped the door causing the hinges to squeak.

"what are you doing lew" you mumbled, taking your seat in front of your mic, lewis didn't answer your question, he merely wandered over and dropped to his knees in front of you.

his head rested in your lap, hands holding your hips as he placed kisses to your swollen belly, each of them filled with love and a gentleness that only lewis had ever shown you, it was part of the reason you'd fallen for him.

"want to taste you bub" his words were mumbled but you understood him well enough, you shook your head "don't you dare even think about it" you softly scolded, hand cupping his cheek.

but lewis wasn't in the mood to listen, he wanted to taste you and he had to do it now, the desire simmering within him was pushing him to do so, you were beautiful and he just couldn't get enough of you.

his hands trailed up your thighs, his touch feather light and making a pool of desire simmer in your own belly or was that just the baby getting hungry again, most likely the latter you thought as a giggle escaped your soft lips.

"why do i even bother" you murmured as his fingers started pulling at the band of your panties, eager to get them off and thrown into the nearest corner as soon as humanly possible.

you lifted your hips knowing if you didn't that lewis would simply rip them off you and you couldn't afford to be down yet another pair of panties all because your husband couldn't keep his hands to himself.

you watched as his head disappeared under the skirts of your dress, hands gently parting your thighs to get a better look at your dripping cunt, the way this man could affect you so easily.

he nuzzled against the soft skin of your thigh, you started to get lost in the feeling when the facetime ringtone rang out through the room causing you to jump in your seat, you were so distracted by your god of a husband that you'd basically forgotten you were meant to be facetiming your producer.

"can you keep it down under there" you asked lewis and when he hummed against your skin, you trusted him, bad choice might i say and adjusted your laptop so that both lewis and your belly were out of view before clicking 'accept call'.

"there's the star i know and love" your producer; thomas's voice rang out, you glanced at the screen and smiled as best you could, with lewis currently between your legs, the last thing you wanted to be doing right now was talking to thomas.

"hey tom" you mumbled, voice quiet in order to keep yourself from moaning as lewis kissed at your thighs, slowly inching his way towards your dripping wet cunt with every kiss.

thomas began to ramble about the new album and the last three songs that were needed and while you tried your best to listen, your focus was quickly pulled away from the computer screen and was put into staying quiet when lewis's tongue licked your cunt from bottom to top, nibbling on your clit which he knew would make you squirm.

you nibbled on your bottom lip, struggling to keep your composure as lewis worked his magic between your thighs. you could have sworn you could taste the metallic tang of blood from how hard you were gnawing on your bottom lip in that moment.

thomas's voice began to fade into a distant buzz in your ears. your fingers gripped at the arms of your chair, knuckles turning white as you fought the urge to moan.

lewis's hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he continued his relentless assault on your senses. the thrill of potentially being caught only heightened your arousal. you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, your body betraying your attempts to appear normal.

"taste so good" you heard lewis's mumbled voice and if you weren't so focused on trying to remain quiet and not draw attention to what was really going on, on your side of the screen you would've smacked him round the head.

thomas's face on the screen remained oblivious, still chattering away about chord progressions and potential guest artists. "what about olivia, we've been wanting to work together for awhile" you suggested when you managed to calm yourself enough to speak, your suggestion set thomas off on another tangent.

'good' you thought, that should hopefully keep him distracted for a while but you were once again pulled from your thoughts when lewis's tongue swirled around your most sensitive spots, making your thighs tremble around his head.

you were struggling to maintain your composure as lewis continued his ministrations. thomas's voice once again fading into a distant buzz as pleasure coursed through your body.

"that's actually a great idea," you managed to catch thomas say. "maybe we could arrange a writing session next week?" he suggested to which you merely nodded in return.

lewis's hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of your chair, the new angle sent a jolt of electricity up your spine, and you had to disguise the gasp that escaped you as a cough.

"everything okay?" thomas asked, his brow furrowing with concern, he was always concerned when it came to you, sometimes a little too much for lewis's liking.

"peachy" you squeaked, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "just recovering from a bit of a dry throat" you lied, reaching for your water bottle to make it seem real.

lewis's hands tightened on your thighs, he was going to leave bruises that was for sure but knowing your husband as well as you did, he would also make sure to kiss them better because he hated hurting you, even when you insisted you were fine.

you knew you were completely fucked however the moment you felt lewis's tongue slip inside your cunt, desperate to taste every bit of you that he could.

your breath caught in your throat as lewis's tongue explored you hungrily. every flick and swirl sending shock waves of pleasure radiating through your body, your hips began to involuntarily move against his face the best they could with your rounded swollen belly in the way, thank god it was still hidden from the cameras view.

"oh god, bub" you moaned softly, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

he growled quietly in response, the vibrations only intensifying the sensations you were currently feeling. lewis's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he devoured you with single-minded focus, you were his top priority in this moment and his focus would remain entirely on you, until you tipped over the edge of your release.

wave after wave of bliss washed over you as lewis worked you expertly with his mouth, you could feel yourself getting close, teetering on the edge of release, just a little more...

"ah y/n, you still with me" holy fuck!, you'd completely forgotten about your producer currently working on a melody on his side of the computer screen, thomas was the most oblivius man you'd ever known and today it was working in your favor.

the fact that he somehow hadn't noticed what was going on almost made you laugh, you bit your lip hard to stop yet another soft moan from slipping past your lips and despite everything that was happening, you somehow managed to croak out a reply to thomas.

"y-yeah, just concentrating," you stammered, struggling to keep your voice steady, thomas nodded absentmindedly, completely focused on the track he was currently mixing. "what do you think of this bassline?" he asked, pressing play.

a pulsing beat filled the room, providing the perfect cover as lewis picked up his efforts, he wanted thomas to know what was going on but you were not about to let that happen, not on your watch.

"it's good," you gasped out "maybe try... ah speeding it up a bit?"

as thomas began to fiddle with the tempo, you felt yourself rapidly approaching the point of no return, lewis's skilled tongue was soon joined by his equally skilled fingers slipping inside your tight hot cunt as his mouth started to suck and nibble on your clit.

all the emotions and sensations that you were feeling was making your head dizzy, you wanted to end the call with thomas right then and there so that you could focus on lewis and lewis alone but you knew that, that wasn't about to happen unfortunately.

as lewis's movements intensified, you were struggling to maintain your composure, your breath quickened as you fingers tangled in the fabric of your dress skirt and hiked it up and around your hips.

as you did lewis looked up at you with mischievous eyes, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you, his fingers curled inside you, finding that pleasurable spongy spot inside you as his tongue flicked rapidly over your sensitive bud, you swore you could feel lewis smile agaisnt you.

"is everything alright?" thomas asked, finally beginning to notice how quiet you were being on this call compared to all the other video calls you'd shared over these past few months.

"ah.. actually no" you stammered out. "i think i might be coming down with something" you lied to thomas for a second time today.

lewis increased his pace, determined to push you over the edge, you weren't sure how much longer you were going to be able to hold on.

your breath hitched as you tried to maintain your composure, thomas's concerned voice crackled through the phone, "do you need to rest? we can talk later if you're not feeling well."

"n-no, it's okay," you managed to mutter, lewis's fingers dug into your thighs, his tongue and finger's relentless rhythm threatening to unravel you completely.

"are you sure?" thomas pressed, clearly unconvinced. "you sound... strange." panic fluttered in your chest. you couldn't let him suspect what was really happening. "i'm fine, really," you insisted, your voice strained. "just a bit of a headache." you reached for your water once more.

lewis pulled away from your cunt, his fingers slipping out of your warm cunt as well, his breath was hot against the skin of your thighs as he whispered, "tell him you have to go” oh how you prayed thomas hadn't heard that.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at lewis's command. your mind raced, torn between the overwhelming sensations that your husband was making you feel and the need to stay on the video call with thomas and finish the album.

"actually," you gasped out, "i think i might need to lie down for a bit." you had caved, mind you with a husband like lewis, who wouldn't cave when asked.

"of course," thomas replied, his voice laced with genuine concern for you "get some rest. we can catch up tomorrow."

"thanks," you whispered, your finger moved the cursor so it was hovering over the end call button. "i'll text you later." as soon as the call disconnected, a low moan escaped your lips.

lewis looked up at you again "good girl," he murmured, his voice husky with desire for you, his beautiful wife. "now, let me hear you properly."

you finally allowed you restraint crumble and you cried out, no longer having to hide the pleasure coursing through your body. "your a fucking menace lew" you scolded your husband as he went back to work, tongue flicking across your clit with renewed fervor.

lewis chuckled against your sensitive core, the vibrations sending shock waves of pleasure through you once more, his strong hands which you loved oh so much gripped at your thighs, holding you in place as you writhed in your seat.

"you love it," he murmured "no i love you" you replied, fingers tangling in with his twisted braids "my handsome handsome husband"

"don't you dare stop," you gasped, your voice hoarse with need, lewis redoubled his efforts, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure, he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just so and that's when you saw stars, your back arched as waves of ecstasy washed over you

"that's it, baby," lewis encouraged, your body trembled as he guided you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, his touch now feather-light and teasing, when your breathing finally steadied, he kissed a trail up your body paying special attention to your bump before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, you swore you could taste yourself on his tongue.

"you're so beautiful when you come undone," he murmured pulling away his voice low and husky, his hands rubbed at your thighs soothingly "i could die between these legs" he chuckled.

"i am so going to write a song about this" you teased with a giggle, hand cupping his cheek as you stared into the brown eyes you loved so much, that could be a pretty could be an interesting way to announce your relationship you thought.

he leaned into your touch, a soft smile playing on his lips. "oh yeah? what's it gonna be called?" he asked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

"hmm," you pondered, pretending to think hard. "how about 'the ballad of lewis's talented tongue'?" you joked.

lewis could help but burst out in laughter, burying his face in your neck, "cheeky," he mumbled against your skin, pressing a soft kiss there. "i like it though but i might have to fight you for the rights to it."

you ran your thumb across his cheek, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. "we could always collaborate," you suggested, your voice softening. "i think we would make beautiful music together."

lewis lifted his head, meeting your gaze with a tender look that made your heart skip. "we already do, love,"

#formula one #formula 1 #formula one fanfiction #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader smut #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton

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p0orbaby · 1 month ago

Note

Lia wälti x surgeon reader , reader gets home after an exhausting day at work where she lost two patients as well as being over worked. All she wants is to crawl up and cry but Lia helps her by cute little gestures

TW: brief mentions of death

You’re exhausted. No, beyond exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that lives in your bones, in the tender ache behind your eyes, in the weight of your limbs as you drag yourself up the stairs to your flat. It’s been a brutal day. Two patients lost on the table, back-to-back surgeries, and a surgeon’s lounge that ran out of coffee by noon. You’re too tired to even feel angry about that last part, which, on any other day, would’ve been unforgivable.

All you want is to collapse onto the sofa, bury your face in a pillow, and let the weight of the day crush you into oblivion. You unlock the door, barely managing to toe off your shoes before Lia appears in the hallway.

“Hi, love,” she says, her voice soft, careful. She’s in joggers and an old hoodie, her hair up in a messy bun. She looks like the epitome of calm, a far cry from the tornado of chaos you feel inside.

“Hi,” you mumble, not trusting yourself to say more without crying.

Her eyes scan your face, taking in the dark circles, the droop of your shoulders, the way your scrubs are wrinkled like you’ve been wearing them for days (you basically have). “Bad day?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep it from trembling.

She steps closer, gently prying your bag from your hands and setting it down. “Okay,” she says, in that steady, grounding way of hers. “Shower first. Then food. Then we’ll talk, if you want”

You don’t argue. You don’t have the energy. She nudges you towards the bathroom, and you let her.

The hot water does wonders, even if it doesn’t fix everything. When you finally emerge, wrapped in one of the ridiculously fluffy towels Lia insisted on buying, she’s waiting with a plate of toast. Not a gourmet meal, but toast. Buttered just the way you like it. It’s the perfect balance of effort and comfort.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want a full meal,” she says, handing you the plate. “But I figured this was safe”

You nod, taking a bite and almost sighing at how good it tastes. Toast shouldn’t be this emotional, but here you are.

Lia settles next to you on the sofa, her hand resting lightly on your knee. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks gently.

You shake your head, swallowing another bite. “Not yet”

“Okay.” She doesn’t push.

Instead, she leans over to the coffee table and picks up the remote. “I queued up your favourite episodes of Bake Off,” she says, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Figured you could use something soothing”

“Mary Berry era?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

“Of course. I’m not a heathen”

That gets a small laugh out of you, which feels like a victory. She hits play, and for the next hour, you sit together, watching Paul Hollywood destroy the hopes and dreams of amateur bakers.

At some point, she tucks you under her arm, her fingers threading through your damp hair. “You’re allowed to feel it, you know,” she murmurs. “The bad days. The losses. It doesn’t make you weak”

You nod against her chest, tears slipping out despite your best efforts. “I just feel like I should’ve done more”

“You did everything you could,” she says firmly, her voice steady like she’s anchoring you to reality. “And you’ll keep doing everything you can. That’s why you’re incredible”

You don’t say anything, but you curl closer, letting her warmth seep into you. For the first time all day, you feel a little lighter.

Later, as you drift off against her shoulder, she whispers, “Tomorrow will be better. But tonight, you’re mine”

#lia wälti #lia wälti x reader #woso #woso x reader

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royalarchivist · 3 months ago

Text

Baghera: [To her chat in French] I'm talking really fast so it doesn't get translated, but his voice is incredible, I'm gonna lose it–

Nobody on the QSMP was immune to Fit's voice, but Baghera's reaction to it still makes me laugh a lot (especially because Ramon called her out on it).

HUGE thank you to @/lmorphos for translating Baghera's comments, I couldn't have made this edit without them. Translators are the backbone of our community, and I really appreciate the help.

[ Full Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

—

Fit: This way, my boy.

Baghera: [To her chat, in French] I'm talking really fast so it doesn't get translated, but his voice is incredible, I'm gonna lose it–

Baghera: [In English] Sorry. [She checks the subtitles]

Fit: You remember which one it is, right Ramon? Yup, there you go.

Baghera: [In French] Of course it's written...

Fit: Alright, so then here we have like the television area and like, the sofa...

Baghera: [After a brief pause] Sorry! Ok! It's- it- it- it's real– [Laughs] It's minimalist, but I- I like it!

Fit: And then here's Ramon in front of his house...

Baghera: He seems very polite in this picture.

Fit: Yes [Laughs] Yes, he's very... less-violent in that picture. [...] So, I'll take you to the library– this way. Right, over here, just alley- [...] So this is like the library, it's not finished yet, but we're working on it. Um.

Baghera: Ok, it's really– [Laughs]

Fit: [Laughs] Oh yeah, watch your step, Pomme. Alright.

Baghera: [Gestures at the camera silently]

[...]

Fit: That's not a bad idea! Yeah, we could do that.

Baghera: I dunno! Maybe just cats.

Fit: Oh, maybe. [Laughs] Maybe a cat's– yeah. No dogs, just cats.

Ramon: wait, you like fit voice?

Baghera: Uh, Ramon– Yeah, yeah! He got a really nice voice. You do.

Fit: Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you. Um, Ramon– don't embarrass me. [He accidentally hits Ramon] Hey, no– Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean– I'm not– I did not mean to do that, Ramon! That was an accident, I–

Ramon: [Climbs down the ladder and runs away]

Fit: Ramon! I did not– No, Ramon!

Baghera: [Laughs] Are you ok?

Baghera: [To chat, in French] Damn– you guys are bastards! Ramon is a snitch! Pomme, Ramon is a snitch! I- I don't have problems with snitches, but he's a snitch!

#Baghera Jones #FitMC #Ramon #Pomme #QSMP #May 18 2023 #Edited #Subtitles #Translated #WHEEZES I started this project a month ago and only just finished it today #I love Ramon's dedication. Kid was really out here like ''On GOD I'm gonna get my dad a partner and myself another parent''#World's most dedicated little wingman #(To Fit's chagrin)#Baghera #Fit #(VOD Timestamp is 1:45:30 btw for folks who are curious!)#Portfolio

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wileys-russo · 9 months ago

Note

NOOOO now we need a pt 2 of cough medicine with a grumpy reader because alexia has passed the cold to her and alexia dressing up in the nurse outfit to surprise her…

lil sequel to this ! suggestive content at the end cough medicine 2.0 II a.putellas

"mi princesa i said i was sorry!" your girlfriend groaned as you scoffed and reached to grab the bottle of water on the coffee table in front of you.

"sorry doesn't make me not sick alexia i warned you!" you grunted ou in annoyance, pushing away her hands which attempted to massage your shoulders.

"bebita in my defense-" your girlfriend started, accent thick as she spoke english but the withering glare you shot her had her wishing she'd mumbled it in spanish and out of your earshot as she fell silent and your attention returned to the television.

"can i get you something?" the catalonian asked sweetly as you ignored her, tucking your knees up to your chest and pulling the blanket to your chin. "mi amor do you need anything? tissue, cough medicine, tea, soup, a hug?" your girlfriend smiled hopefully as you shot her a blistering side eye.

"for you to leave me alone." you grumbled, sniffling and wiping your nose with the sleeve of your hoodie. you'd even refused to wear one of alexia's and thats when she knew you were perhaps just a touch beyond the normal level of grumpy you became when unwell.

though really alexia knew it was her fault. you'd at first been strong and held quite firm to the no kissing rule when she was sick last week, needing to still be viable and healthy to look after her as well as work from home while you did so.

now to the average bystander they'd not know the true nature of your girlfriends incredibly clingy tendencies, but when her walls were down and it was just the two of you she melted like a icey in the sun, crawling on top of you.

if you didn't react fast enough she'd grab your arms and wrap them around her, tucking them up the back of whatever was covering her torso, the blonde mumbling into your neck she wanted back scratches and you'd often tease that if she got any closer she'd be inside your skin.

then when alexia was sick it was even more dire that she have every possible ounce of your attention and touch. so as the hours ticked by and you'd still held firm that her lips weren't to touch yours and she not get too close, her attempts to break you down also doubled.

unfortunately to your own detriment you also found yourself feeling a little touch starved, and the more effort alexia made to getting you to crack the closer and closer you stepped toward the edge.

but over and over you warned her that not only did you have to work but you had a music festival with your friends on the weekend you needed to be in fit and fighting shape for.

spoiler alert, a night of consolation kisses to cheer up your incredibly pouty and miserable girlfriend who was informed she'd not be fit enough to make the squad this weekend meant it was needless to say you weren't going to the music festival now.

it had been frosty for the last two days since.

you'd even gone as far as to put up a pillow wall as a compromise for not kicking alexia out of the bed much to the constant whining and apologizing and groveling and begging and pleading you were far too tired and unwell to give into.

"mi vida. por favor i do not know what else to do, i have said over and over i am very sorry!" alexia groaned again, collapsing into the sofa beside you, thumping into the cushions and hazel eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"i told you, leave me alone." you huffed, well aware you were now bordering on overreacting but your dampened state of well being and the fomo of watching your friends all have fun at the festival without you was making it near impossible to move on from that.

with one final sigh and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before you could push her away alexia did as you asked and left you be. and with the warmth of the blanket and your inconsistent temperature it didn't take long before you drifted off.

when you woke up it was to an all too familiar smell, lifting your head groggily and peeking over the back of the lounge you could see your girlfriend with her back to you in the kitchen.

you hadn't made a single noise but alexia could feel your eyes on her as she glanced over her shoulder and threw you a smile which you didn't return, though you also didn't turn away, resting your chin on top of the sofa and watching her as she cooked.

"are you making your soup?" you rasped out after awhile, unable to ignore the overwhelmingly alluring smell wafting closer and closer. "maybe." alexia grinned coyly as you rolled your eyes and flopped back down onto the sofa.

"not in the mood for cute." you quipped with a huff, stretching your arms out behind your head and tuning back into the spanish soap opera your girlfriends sister had gotten you shamefully addicted to, though alba never ceased to tease that you needed the subtitles on.

you glanced up when you heard someone clear their throat, looking up at your girlfriend for a fleeting moment as she stood before you and placed down two bowls of soup on the coffee table before your gaze returned to the television

but then when you realized alexia had done an outfit change, your head snapped back so fast you near gave yourself whiplash.

"hola bebita." she purred with a suggestive smile as you sat upright and covered your mouth with your hand, taking in your incredibly athletically built girlfriend in all her glory.

her glory being the ill fighting barely covering nurses costume that was yours which was sitting taunt against her muscular body.

given the fact it was made in your size and not hers, and she easily stood two and a half heads taller, she looked like one wrong move would have her bursting out of it like the hulk.

and so you did the only thing your body could do in the moment taking her in and the way her thick quad muscles had the garters wrapped around them about a millisecond from snapping, you collapsed backwards into the sofa clutching at your stomach, body heaving with laughter which rang around your empty shared home.

the reaction was clearly not what the taller girl anticipated as her mouth formed a small o and she crossed her arms, the way the sleeves ripped as she did so only making you laugh harder.

"hey! this was supposed to be sexy, not funny!" alexia protested with a huff, your head shaking to and fro as you tried to stop laughing for a moment so you could get a word out.

"cariño its not funny!" alexia groaned, a slight blush coating her cheeks as she shuffled closer. "oh mi amor you're forgiven. you're so forgiven!" you pulled your phone out and wiped a stray tear, snapping a few photos as your girlfriend gasped and tried to cover up.

"well this was not what i wanted but i am glad to at least see you smile again." alexia gave in with a shake of her head, moving to sit down beside you so you could both eat, grateful to hear her favorite noise once more as your belly laughter subsided into giggles.

but right as she did a strange noise sounded and your hand once more flew to your mouth, alexia now near naked beside you as the entire back of the ensemble ripped clean in half, your eyes raking over the taunt tattooed and tanned skin of her back.

"don't." alexia warned seriously, a pleading look in her eyes as you lost it again, sagging into her and clutching at your stomach as the sounds of your laughter filled the air. "amor!" alexia whined, clearly embarrassed as her hands flew to cover her own face.

"are you comfortable?" you teased, sitting up on your knees beside her once your laughter had settled, wrenching alexia's hands away from her face with a raised eyebrow. "no." your girlfriend mumbled with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

"so now you understand how it feels when i dress up for you." you hinted, eyebrow raising even higher as alexia sighed but nodded. "i have more muscles! it hurts more." the girl huffed, bottom lip jutting out into a slight pout.

"thats what you're going to take from all of this? ale i just forgave you, don't piss me off again." you huffed smacking her chest lightly as the corners of her mouth curled upward slightly.

"why not? it is what you are taking from this, no?" the slight smile turned into a full on grin now as she settled back into the lounge a little more clearly making an effort to flex her biceps and upper arm muscles as they sat folded behind her head.

"still not in the mood for cute. and thanks to you i'm sick, so if it was sex you were angling for putellas...think again." your hand smacked gently against her cheek a few times with a wink.

though before you could reach for your food your back was flat against the sofa and your girlfriend hovered over you, settling herself on her knees between your legs.

"you know bebita, there is still a lot i can do for you while you are unwell. but only if you are feeling up to it!" a singular finger trailed down your bare leg, her smirk widening at the goosebumps which arose in response.

"well you are a nurse, and it would be wrong of me to assume i know what i need better than a nurse." you smiled, alexia raising an eyebrow as she sunk a little lower, a few kisses trailed up your leg as you hummed, already feeling better as they got higher and her large hands gripped your thighs pushing your legs even further apart.

you sighed in pleasure and tangled your hands in her hair as her chin rested on your abdomen, looking up at you with a smile as she played with the hem of your shorts, t-shirt pushed upward and a few kisses placed to your stomach as your eyes fluttered closed and your shorts suddenly dissapeared.

"let me make it all feel better princesa."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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harrytheehottie · 3 months ago

Text

JUNO

WORD COUNT: 2K MASTERLIST this is a part of the short & sweet fic challenge @harry-on-broadway let me know what you think 💘 hope you enjoy!

The sun was casting a warm golden glow through the windows of your living room as you sat on the couch. Harry was in the kitchen making your nightly tea as you rested on the sofa. It was a peaceful evening, like many that you have shared over the last three years. This familiar feeling and routine was something you cherished especially with the hectic schedule Harry’s life could bring.

A year ago, he finished his two year long world tour. It was an incredible feat and one that was an emotional roller coaster since it began. He had his entire life planned from the minute we all went into lockdown to the final show in Italy and these last seven months were spent just making up for lost time. He was always home when you came back from work, he was the one that was traveling on your schedule and your terms. It was a great change from how your relationship was before. You didn’t have to anticipate the day that he was going to go away for weeks at a time because you were a part of that decision making now and it only made the two of you stronger as a unit.

You glanced at the framed photos on the mantel: you and Harry in various stages over the last three years--goofing around backstage at Coachella, the night he turned his green room in MSG into a home theater and begged security to let you two spend the night after you just got off a six hour flight to surprise him for his last show. It was the simple moments that were your favorite, the picture of you walking through the Heath, a cup of coffee and pastries in tow for your favorite weekend tradition of a Saturday morning picnic.

This was the first year that you were able to think about the future just as it pertained to you and Harry. You didn’t have to think about how your life decisions factored into anyone else's. You always knew you wanted to have a family. He was always going above and beyond for the children in his life not just by spoiling them with gifts but checking up on them and making sure they knew that he was always there. And this became more apparent when he became an Uncle. He was always the first to offer up babysitting so his sister and her partner could enjoy some quality time, even making the trek up to Cheshire to watch his cousin's children if they asked.

So, when Harry walked back into the living room with a cup of tea for you and snacks for himself you sort of blurted it out before you had the chance to second guess the right time for this conversation.

“I’m ready to have a baby.”

Harry’s eyes widened, completely caught off guard, “What?” almost second guessing what you just said.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing realizing that you are not going to be able to take those words back. “I’ve just been thinking, we have talked about the future a lot as this far-fetched idea but we’re here now and…” you paused looking up at him, his expression shifting from the initial shock, he leaned closer, taking your hands in his. You knew how Harry worked and the subtle shift in energy was all you needed to continue, “I know not to think, I know I’m ready… for that next step.”

A moment of silence stretched between you as he processed your words “You really mean that?”

“More than anything,” you admitted, looking into his eyes. “I can’t imagine going through that journey with anyone else. And it just feels good right now, us, we are so good right now and there is just no reason to wait.”

Harry’s expression softened, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “It’s a big step, probably one of the biggest steps we will ever take together.”

“Will we ever truly be ready?” You chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Life is unpredictable, but I want this with you.I want to build a family together.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the window. “I’ve thought about it too,” he finally said, turning back to you. “I want that. I’ve always wanted it honestly. I remember the first time you met Ruby and the way she was instantly drawn to you. S’probably when the thought first crossed my mind.”

You remembered that day. You were so incredibly nervous to meet Harry’s close group of friends. It was Ruby -- his God daughter’s 4th birthday. You had only been dating for around three months at that point. You remember stressing about what to buy her as a gift and even though Harry promised no one would think twice if you showed up empty handed. You still scoured the internet looking up every list of ‘best gifts for a 4 year old girl’ and settled on a Peppa Pig Camper Playset with all the characters. And to say it was a hit was an understatement. The two of you still joke about how as soon as Ruby opened her present she demanded that you stay after to set up the toy and play with her.

Harry remembers watching the way you were interacting with Ruby and how her father, Ben made a comment about how he had never seen Harry so fixated on someone before like he had you. It was still early days but he always went back to that moment and how it led you to where you are now.

“So, are we ready to do this?” You asked with a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice.

“You know, if we really want to be serious about this. We’re going to have to start practicing.” Harry teased pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his body against yours as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative like he was emphasizing the importance of the moment you just shared.

You pulled away first, a smirk on your face, “Hmm.. practice? I’m feeling a little tired right now,” You teased with a wide yawn stretching your arms over your head. The playful banter that you know drives him crazy. Harry moves his hands to cup your face, his thumb glazing over your lips again, “C’mere” he whispers. He begins kissing down your neck, leaving small kisses along his path from his lips. You move your hands through his hair, as he scoots back on the couch, pushing your shirt up in the process and you help to take it off.

The kisses continue. He’s moving down your neck, between your cleavage and he stops right at the top of your stomach. His hands that were holding yours moved to touch your belly — picturing what was going to happen next. The commitment to a family and how you would be the home for his future baby. You were almost tearing up at the sight of him and just how careful he was already, always putting your needs first and making you his priority.

“You’re gonna have to use your words, baby,” You whisper as Harry moves his hands to the waist of your pants. You are already ready for him and he knew it just by how much you were wiggling under him trying to get him to move faster.

“I want you,” he says in a low breathy tone before helping you get your pants off. You move your weight onto your forearms to get a good view of him. You watch as Harry slides your underwear to the side, a rush of pleasure washing over the both of you. “So wet for me…” leaving his lips as he moves his fingers up and down your slit. The juxtaposition of the sexyness and tenderness of the moment right as he slid one and quickly two digits in pushing his fingers in and out. The pleasure washing over your body, the whimper of ‘Oh yes’ and ‘Baby’ a moan escaping your lips as you rode out your first orgasm.

His lips are immediately back on yours as you slide your hand into his pants pushing his joggers off trying to keep every part of your body touching. After being in a relationship for three years you still periodically used contraceptives especially when you are in the thick of it with his work never wanting anything to come in the way of jeopardizing this unspoken tension between the two of you. And tonight, was going to be and feel different, no more trying to locate the last spot you left condoms going on stretches of time of just trying the process. This was intentional and you felt the mutual giddyness as you slid your hand down his length pumping him once, twice, three times before Harry is ready for you.

“M’not gonna last very long,” he says before aligning your hips before pushing in deep. Taking a couple of deep breaths as you move your hips along with Harry as you adjust to the familiar feeling of him inside you. Harry leans his head toward you leaving kisses all over him, your nails dragging up and down his back.

“Tell me it feels good,” You whispered the sounds of your mutual pleasure echoing in the room.

“Feels so fuckin’ good, always s’fuckin good” Harry was moving faste and harder meeting your gaze right before letting himself go inside you. His body collapsing on top of you as both tried to catch your breath from the pleasure. You had your arms wrapped around his body wanting to keep the warmth of his body on you forever.

You cleaned yourselves up and spent the rest of the night thinking about your future and how you were going to take that next step forward. Harry was your safe space and you were his. You both knew that this next step forward would be unlike anything you’ve done before but you were both ready, as a team to make this next step.

And one day, you will be in this same living room waiting for Harry to finish making a bottle for your future baby - and boy, could you not wait.

#harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles #god... haven't used those tags in a minute! pls be nice and tell me what you think <3 out of my comfort zone a little..

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jakeshands · 8 months ago

Text

WIKIHOW: to unlove heeseung lee

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis: how to unlove heeseung lee. a comprehensive guide written by lily morrow. step #1: tell him, to his face, you don’t love him. step #2 — there’s no step number two. lily got distracted. now its up to you. how does one fall out of love? a story told in two acts

genre: crack, comedy, romantic comedy, fluff, lots of silliness, slight teacher au/new girl au if u squint, lowkey unreliable narrator

featuring: enhypen, lily of nmixx, yunjin of lsfm, jeongin of skz, beomgyu of txt, ningning of aespa, wonyoung of ive

warnings: lots of kys jokes/humor like a lot😭, loads of profanity, loads of sex jokes/mentions of sex, a joke about christian guilt and cathliocism, lmk if i missed any

word count: 12.6k

author’s note: look. i just started writing. sorry. incredibly unedited and dont take this seriously PLEASE😭😭😭😭

Act I: I loved you from the start.

[SCENE: ENGAGEMENT PARTY, 6 PM]

A gentle pink cascades across the sky. You exit the restaurant, the excitement of the engagement party seeping out of you as soon as the door shuts. One of your college friends, Chaeyoung, is finally engaged to her high school sweetheart. You remember receiving the news from Chaeyoung over the phone. She sounded ecstatic, and so were you.

A gentle breeze blows through the air and it pushes your hair back softly. You swing your black handbag and hum the rhythm of a song you can’t quite remember under your breath. You pass by a convenience store and you double back deciding to enter the store.

Greeting the worker, you rummage through the selves and find snacks for yourself and your roommates. Home run balls, corn chips, and tiramisu. You pick out a bag of tiny animal-shaped cookies for yourself. After buying the four items, you exit the store and continue your journey back home.

With a heavy exhale, you unlock the door to your apartment and with one hand gripping the doorknob, you begin to undo the straps of your heels, hobbling into the apartment. Loud sounds of sobbing and sniffling fill the apartment, and after finally sliding off your heels, you glance up at the scene in front of you.

Sitting on the sofa and watching the end of the Titanic were your roommates. A pile of tissues sat in the center of the coffee table, and bowls of discarded ramen lay on the floor. Jay was sobbing loudly into the bright pink pillow you picked out when you first moved in, Sunghoon was blowing his nose over and over, and Jake was hugging his dog, Layla, whom he somehow managed to sneak into the apartment when he first moved in.

“Y/N!” Cries Jay, noticing you. “You’re back!”

Sunghoon blows his nose.

You hold up a small plastic bag. “I come bearing snacks.”

Jay sobs harder. “You’re the best girl friend we’ve ever had.”

You smile. “I better be.” You had out the snacks you bought for each boy; home run balls for Jake, tiramisu for Sunghoon, and corn chips for Jay. “Also, didn’t we ban Titanic from our apartment? Last time we watched it, you three didn’t speak to each other for a week.”

“We did,” Sunghoon agrees easily.

“...So why are you watching it?”

“Ask Jake,” Sunghoon points at the boy still sobbing into Layla’s fur.

“I’m fine….he’s obviously going through something.”

“Rosie!” Jake wails loudly.

“That’s not even her name, Jake,” Jay scowls.

Jake responds with another loud sob. Rolling your eyes, you open up the bag of your animal-shaped cookies and walk through the living room to reach the kitchen. You throw your handbag on the counter, and then shriek loudly when you catch sight of another body in the kitchen.

“Y/N?” Jay calls out, his voice not as shaky as it was before. “Is everything okay?”

You poke your head back into the living room and scowl at the three boys, and one girl -- Jake insists everyone references Layla as a ‘girl’ and not a ‘dog.’ As you can tell, Layla is the only girl in his life aside from you and Lily Morrow -- sitting on the couch. “Why is he in our kitchen eating our food?”

“The couple he was rooting for on Love Island got voted off, or something like that, and he needed some Boy Time,” Sunghoon answers.

“And he came here? Instead of slipping into Jeongin’s room and getting stoned?”

“He needed an emotional connection,” Jay says after wiping his snotty nose with your pink cushion.

“Jeongin is a very emotional guy,” you refute. “He is very in touch with his feelings, unlike the three boys I live with. And the one in the kitchen. I would like one of you to tell him he needs to leave.”

“Why can’t you?!” Jake wails again. “We’re all emotionally devastated at the moment!”

Sunghoon and Jay nod, agreeing with Jake’s words. You scowl. “Last time I talked to him I got a rash and a head cold. I can’t get sick.”

“You work with kids who refuse to cough into their elbows. Of course you were going to get sick,” Jay rolls his eyes. “Just talk to him.”

“No!” You whine petulantly, resting against the doorframe. “Please. Don’t make me talk to him.”

“I have a name, you know,” a gentle voice says from behind you, and you shriek, stumbling away from the doorframe and into the back of the couch. The gentle voice laughs loudly, and standing in the doorway to the kitchen, in all his glory, is Heeseung Lee. His silver hair somewhat shines beneath the orange-toned lighting, and his mouth curves up into that stupid heart smile of his.

“Monster!” You shriek, pointing at Heeseung, who is eating a donut from the box you brought home earlier today. “There’s a monster in my apartment! Jay, quick, get him out!” You punch the apartment’s self-proclaimed black cat in the arm, to which he hisses. No surprises there. He spends too much time around….do you dare say it……Jungwon.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Y/N.”

“And you need to leave.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you need to buy me another box of those donuts you’re eating.”

Heeseung looks down at the box he is holding and then looks back at you. He shrugs. “How much was it?”

“Seventeen dollars.”

Heeseung raises his eyebrows. “You bought a box of donuts for seventeen dollars? Twelve donuts for seventeen dollars?”

“What’s wrong with that?” You frown.

Heeseung sighs and finishes the last of the chocolate donut he’s eating before rubbing his now free hand against his forehead. “You give me migraines.”

“Good,” you respond. “Now get out.”

Heeseung pouts, “do you not care about me?”

You shake your head. “No, not really.”

“We’ve spent our whole lives together, and this is how you repay me?”

“Get out or so god help me,” you scowl. “I will choke you out again.”

“Again?” Sunghoon asks in surprise.

“Yeah, Y/N choked Heeseung back in middle school,” Jay says as he scrolls through the illegal movie website for another movie to watch. “Ooo, Shape Of Water sounds cool!”

“A mute girl falls in love with a fish, Jay,” Jake responds. “I didn’t know you were into bestiality.” He then holds Layla closer to him.

“Who’s Chaeyoung engaged to?” Heeseung asks you, picking up another donut with pink icing and white sprinkles. “I got an invite from her, but it clashed with Love Island.”

“You are not changing the subject on me,” you snap. “And you can find out tomorrow. At school. Now get out of my apartment and stop eating my donuts. Why couldn’t you have gotten stoned with Jeongin? Or played guitar with Beomgyu or -- or visited Jungwon.” You shudder at the thought of the younger boy.

Heeseung laughs. “You still find Jungwon scary?”

“For many reasons!” You defend. “He thinks he’s a cat, he bit me once, and he threatened to hunt me down and kill me if I ever managed to hurt Jay.”

“Is that why we never hang out one-on-one?” Jay asks you, now looking up the emoji movie on the illegal website.

“Yes.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Sunghoon pipes up, helpful as ever.

“Yeah,” Heeseung agrees with Sunghoon’s words. “It’s a skill issue. Maybe you need to level up --”

You whack Heeseung with the bright orange pillow Sunghoon picked out when you first moved into the apartment together. “I still don’t understand why all those girls fawn over you. Even now! You’re a fucking middle-school teacher yet girls still stick to your sides like leeches. What do they even see in you?! Do they know you used to pick your nose and wipe it on the nearest body to you, which always happened to be me? Do they know you scratched your balls and then ate all my McDonald’s Chicken Nuggets once?”

“What does me scratching my balls and eating your chicken nuggets have to do with anything?”

“You didn’t even bother to wash your hands after getting a good scratch!” You exclaim loudly, whacking Heeseung with the pillow again. “Stop eating my fucking donuts!”

Layla barks loudly and leaps off the couch, running for the bathroom. “She needs to pee,” Jake announces, standing up, “I should go help her. You know, potty training and all that.”

You groan and hold your head in your hands. “Why did I decide to move in with Incel #1 Incel #2 and Incel #3?”

“Hey! I am not an incel!” Sunghoon exclaims. “I get laid!”

“Sure you do,” you respond, not believing a word Sunghoon just said. “Explain to me why Wonyoung said you chickened out last time things got steamy between you two?”

“Incel means involuntarily celibate. Me choosing to not be intimate with Wonyoung doesn’t count as involuntary because it was a conscious decision.”

“Umm actually…” Jay mimics in a high-pitched tone and pokes his index finger in the air. “You’ve been dating for like five years dude, there’s no time like the present.”

“Fine,” Sunghoon snaps. “I’ll go over there right now and do the dirty.” Sunghoon snatches up his phone from the coffee table and immediately calls Wonyoung as he walks over to his bedroom. “Wony, hey,” his voice suddenly adopts that adoring tone he uses whenever Wonyoung is around.

“Finally,” Jay mutters, “I’ve had to listen to him complain about his performance fears for years. The world doesn’t understand how hard it is for men -- oh my god I sound like Jake.”

“....I’m gonna head out now. While I wish I could stay and watch whatever is currently happening, Yunjin just sent me an SNS text.” Heeseung says.

You turn around to find that, somehow, Heeseung has eaten all twelve of your donuts, and at this point, you don’t even care. You’re too exhausted and confused and just concerned for the three boys you live with to even whine over Heeseung eating the only edible thing in this apartment. “SNS? What does that mean?”

“Sister Needs Sister.”

“What?”

“SNS means Sister Needs Sister.”

“Sister Needs -- okay whatever I’m not gonna question whatever weird thing you have going on with Yunjin. Just get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Heeseung tips his imaginary cowboy hat at you and finally exits the apartment. Your shoulders slump and you throw yourself over the back of the couch, landing awkwardly on your neck as Jay cackles loudly at something on his phone.

“I don’t want to go to school tomorrow,” you whine. “I haven’t even finished typing up Friday’s lesson.”

Jay ignores you, still cackling at something on his phone. Jake shrieks his dog’s name loudly in the bathroom and something falls over in Sunghoon’s room.

It’s 6:30 AM when you enter your classroom. You have an hour until students begin to fill the school and while you always tell yourself that today will be the day you actually wake up early enough to get to school at 6:00 AM, it never happens and you’re left with an hour to get everything prepared for the lessons ahead.

Grumbling to yourself about having to let Layla into the bathroom to take a piss -- and then watch the dog miss the toilet bowl completely -- you ignore the box of donuts sitting on your desk. It’s only when you finish recalling how you had to literally drag Jake out of bed to clean up Layla’s mess do you realize there’s a box of twelve donuts on your desk.

Frowning, you put down your coffee cup and examine the box. It’s from the same bakery your previous donuts were from. A small card sits on top of the box and you open it.

Sorry

- Heeseung (:

Groaning, you chuck the small apology card aside and open up the box. Instantly, the aroma of freshly baked donuts fills the classroom and your mouth begins to water. You wonder how Heeseung was able to get the donuts freshly baked. The bakery doesn’t even open until seven.

Pushing that thought aside, you grab a donut and get settled in your chair, beginning to finish the lesson prep you failed to complete last night.

Thirty minutes quickly pass by. The only distraction you had was your phone buzzing. Sunghoon needed to pee and when he stepped into the bathroom, he found Jake lying, face down, fast asleep. Right next to Layla’s puddle of pee. Sunghoon, being the good friend he is, snapped a photo of Jake and sent it to the group chat before heading back to bed. He didn’t even bother to move Jake back to bed.

“Enjoying the donuts?”

A voice draws you away from your laptop. Your rapid-fire typing stops and you glance over your shoulder, finding Heeseung standing at the entrance of your classroom. You gift Heeseung a small smile and lean back in your chair. “Thank you for the donuts, Heeseung.”

“Do you accept my apology?” Heeseung asks as he walks over to your desk.

“Of course,” you beam. “You know the way to my heart, Heeseung. Want one?” You offer the box to Heeseung but he waves you off. “By the way, how did you get these donuts freshly baked? The bakery doesn’t open until seven.”

Heeseung winks. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

You roll your eyes.

“Chaeyoung and Seungmin, huh? Who even is Seungmin? I don’t remember Chaeyoung ever dating a Seungmin?” Heeseung drums his fingers on your desk.

You snort. “Seriously? You don’t remember Seungmin? He was in the year above you. Also in choir with you. Do you seriously not remember him? He thought he was a dog for the longest time so he often barked at people in the hallways.”

Heeseung’s face lights up. “Oh! Him! I threw his lunch in the toilet one time. Fond memories.”

“Why would you do that?!”

Heeseung shrugs. “I was fourteen. We do weird things at fourteen.”

“Bullying is not a weird thing.”

“It was some kind of choir initiation,” Heeseung answers. “I don’t remember it. It’s been like. A decade.”

“You’re getting old,” you muse, teasing Heeseung.

“I could say the same about you,” Heeseung mutters, picking up a pen from your pen jar and chucking it at you. It hits your arm and clatters to the floor, loud in the empty classroom.

“Once a bully, always a bully,” you retort.

“Whatever.”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” You ask Heeseung, “like, I don’t know, picking out what songs you’re going to sing in class today?”

“Unlike you, I have respectful friends who know not to bother me when I plan my lessons, so I already have picked out the three songs I plan on teaching the kids today.”

“Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon are your friends too? I don’t see how that is an insult.”

“To be fair, I was only able to complete my lesson plan for this week because Jeongin and Beomgyu were following some Zen Yoga YouTube video they found,” Heeseung admits, grimacing slightly. “Seeing both of them in yoga pants…..Never again.”

“Did you finally realize you have a flat ass compared to theirs?”

Heeseung scowls and deliberately knocks over your mug of pens. “Don’t ever say I have a flat ass again. Jake’s the one with a flat ass.”

“He is not!” You defend your best friend with everything you have while cleaning up the mess Heeseung made. “You come into my classroom, make a mess, and insult my friend? You’re so lucky I don’t have super strength.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have super super strength.”

“Really?” You deadpan, glaring at Heeseung. “How childish. One of my students could come up with a better retort than that.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes and grabs a donut from the box. Usually, you would whine and try to make him put it back, but today you let it slide since Heeseung was the one who bought the donuts for you. You turn back to your laptop to continue finishing up the last slide for today’s lesson as Heeseung chews on the chocolate-covered donut and flicks through the worksheets you printed out.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” You mumble.

“No,” Heeseung responds, finishing off the last of the donut. “Mmm, those donuts are good.” He tries to help himself to another, but you slap his hand away. A scandalized gasp rings out through the room and Heeseung stares at you like you just called his mom a whore.

“Get out of my classroom, Heeseung. I can only tolerate you for so long.”

“Rude. I’ll remember this, Y/N,” Heeseung warns, backing out of your classroom as he wiggles his forefinger. “Heeseung Lee never forgets.”

You snarl in response.

Jake kicks the soccer ball back and forth with Riki. You sit on a bench nearby with Jay and Sunghoon, licking the triple stack of mint chocolate ice cream you coerced Sunghoon into buying for you. It took a lot of effort -- Sunghoon violently puked in the gutter the moment you asked, apparently his allergy to mint chocolate is very real -- but after unwillingly pulling out the cute poses you tucked away after you graduated high school, Sunghoon gave in. Much to Jay’s delight.

Next to you, Sunghoon’s stomach rumbles loudly. “I’m gonna puke,” Sunghoon mumbles, ditching the remainder of his Tiramisu ice cream on the ground and running for the nearest bushing, retching loudly. Jake kicks the soccer ball at a dog.

Jay cackles loudly at the misfortune of both his friends -- Sunghoon having an allergic reaction to mint chocolate, and Jake practically crying on his knees as he apologizes to the dog and the dog’s owner over and over. Riki just stands to the side recording Jake. “God, I love going to the park. Don’t you?”

You stare at Jay. “Are you a masochist? Do you feel joy in seeing other people’s misfortunes?”

Jay tsks, shaking his head. “I’m a sadist, not a masochist. There’s a difference.”

“Well, school me on the difference, Jay.”

“Masochist; I enjoy hurting or humiliating myself. Sadist; I enjoy hurting or humiliating other people.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” you vow.

Jay finishes off his cone and rubs his stomach. “Jay’s finished! Jay’s no longer hungry! Jay thinks we should head home now.”

Sunghoon’s still retching. Jake’s still crying. Riki is now trying to muffle his laughter. You’re halfway through your triple scoop of mint chocolate. And Jay simply does not give a fuck.

“Oh. Hey guys!” To make matters worse, Heeseung appears, dressed in jogging gear, and next to him is Jungwon. Oh God. Immediately, you start stuffing your face with the ice cream, trying to finish it all so you can high tail it out of this park. Jungwon Yang terrifies the shit out of you. Not only is he a professional Taekwondo athlete, but he’s also part cat. You vividly remember the time Jungwon attacked you -- hissing and claws out. You wake up screaming to that particular memory most nights.

“Heeseung! What’s up bro?” Jay dabs up Heeseung.

You give Heeseung a once over. He’s wearing leggings underneath his black shorts, a bright yellow tank top, and a red headband wrapped around his head, pushing back his hair. On his feet are -- god you have to blink a couple of times. Bright pink shoes. Bright pink shoes. They must be Jeongin’s.

“Nothing much. Just out running with Jungwonie. He was feeling a bit energetic this evening.”

You side eye Jungwon who has begun to do some stretches -- well, to you it looks like he’s getting ready to spring another attack on you.

“Y/N,” Heeseung addresses you. “Finish eating all the doughnuts I gave you?”

(Heeseung bought you another box of doughnuts today. He must be feeling pretty sorry for eating your seventeen dollar box of doughnuts last week. It makes your heart burn. And in a good way — at least you think. Maybe you have heart burn?)

You smile politely, very aware of the ice cream all over your face and the brewing brain freeze. “Of course. I have to say, they were super lovely, Heeseung. I appreciated your kind gesture. Very kind. Super good and kind. I loved it. Lots! Hahahahahahaha --”

“You okay?” Heeseung interrupts, furrowing his brows. He reaches over and presses his palm against your forehead. You jolt away instantly, scowling.

“I’m not sick!”

“You’re acting weird.”

You side eye Jungwon again. This time he’s on his phone. He’s probably calling for back up. Most likely Sunoo. Oh God, you’re about to get attacked, and then kidnapped. This is not good. You need to get out of here.

“Weird?? Hahaha why would I be acting weird….” You choke down the rest of your ice cream with more force this time. Heeseung and Jay watch on in befuddlement.

“Slow down girl,” Jay says. “That ice cream isn’t going anywhere.”

“Maybe she’s just practicing,” Jake says. It seems he’s gotten over the trauma of hitting a dog with his soccer ball. “For, you know…..”

If you weren’t trying to force mint chocolate ice cream down your throat, you would’ve jumped Jake.

“Hey, woah,” Heeseung grabs your wrist and halts you from eating. “Let’s clean you up a bit.” He pulls a box of wet wipes out of thin air and begins to wipe your face gently with them, discarding them in the nearby bin.

For some reason, your heart begins to palpitate as you watch Heeseung, who has a soft look on his face, clean your face. One hand gently holds your chin, while the other wipes away the ice cream you had smeared all over your face. Heeseung may be a freak and get on your nerves constantly and make you consider murder, but there are times like these; times where he is so kind and gentle towards you, and it makes you rethink your entire life --

Right. Your life.

So, you were born on a frosty December morning. You came out screaming so loud, a couple of nurses had to leave the room and you roused your passed out father. In the room next to you, Jay was born a couple of seconds later, which led to you and Jay growing up together. Side by side. Hand in hand. The sharing-the-sandbox-and-pushing-each-other-off-the-monkey-bars growing up.

All your life you’ve been stuck to Jay’s side. And you hated it.

Elementary school started and you made new friends. Who then became Jay’s friends as well. You pushed Jay off the monkey bars every break time because he had invaded your big squad of girls, and you would get put in time out for ten minutes because of it every time. Jay would buy you a popsicle after school as an apology for worming his way into your girl group.

(Though, Jake should be mentioned here; he was an honorary member of your girl club because he was pretty good at braiding hair. This is when you, Jake, and Jay became a tight knit group of friends, much to your displeasure. Did everything in your life have to revolve around Jay?)

Middle school came and with a renewed vigor, you made new friends. And so did Jay. And it turned out his friends were also your friends. Because, somehow, you befriended Yizhuo, and Lily, and so did Jay. But there was one person you and Jay did not share in common; Heeseung Lee.

Heeseung was in the grade above you. He was kind, smart, and very attractive. You had both gone to the same elementary school and he instantly took Jay under his wing, but you made sure to stay far away. Boys who weren’t Jay and Jake had cooties. You didn’t really talk to Heeseung until middle school when Jay thought it would be best to add Heeseung to your friend group.

Instantly, Heeseung ticked you off and thus, began your long winded friendship of fighting and bickering every chance you got. It was just so easy to piss Heeseung off, and it was clear Heeseung took amusement in annoying you. At first, everyone told you it was because Heeseung liked you and wanted your attention -- but then came your freshman year, Heeseung’s sophomore year.

High school was a whole new environment, and a new friend was added to your friend group; Sunghoon. But more on that later. High school meant maturity, sex, and nostalgia for your childhood -- more on the sex part later.

With confidence filling your veins, you asked Heeseung out on a date. He promptly rejected you. That night, with Yizhuo and Lily, you called upon some demons and made them swear to curse Heeseung for the rest of his damned life.

Apparently, those demons suck fucking ass.

While you spent most of your time bickering with the boys around you, there were the times when they were gentle with you -- Heeseung especially. Somewhere, buried deep down, Heeseung actually cares about you. You’ve seen the way he looks at you. You’ve seen the way he handles you when you’re crying or emotional in any way and you can’t help but let your heart flutter, even after swearing to move on from Heeseung ever since he rejected you.

You don’t like admitting this but. Well. You’ve been in love with Heeseung since you were twelve.

God. How pathetic.

So -- there Heeseung was, gently wiping your face. “Messy girl,” Heeseung scolds gently. “Seriously. When did you become like Riki?” With a last swipe over your lips, Heeseung backs away. “There. Now, you look easy on the eyes.”

Knuckles crack. You glance over at Jungwon. He’s cracking the bones in his neck. Oh God. You thrust the remainder of your ice cream at Jay and book it out of the park. You weren’t planning on staying any longer. ‘Local girl kidnapped by self-proclaimed Cat Boy’ is not a headline you want to be featured in.

Sayonara bitches!

jake’s intervention: stop kissing everything

you: mom is making me come home for christmas

you: decided tn is my last night alive

you: anyone wanna watch me jump??????

jay smells: Can’t watch! I’m Jungwon-sitting

gaymansaywhat: Gay

gaymansaywhat: Woah who said that?????????????????

you: im so happy you came out of the closet sunghoon 😭😭😭😭

gaymansaywhat: Not funny. Didn’t laugh.

gaymansaywhat: I literally have a girlfriend.

you: Ok…….moving on.

jake (DNR): what time are u planning to jump?

you: in ten minutes

jake (DNR): i’ll be there!

jake (DNR): physics is making me rethink my smoking sobriety oath

jay smells: girl.

jay smells: BTW i’m also going back for christmas, and the invitation is extended to everyone!

nishimura: I’LL BE THERE

you: at my suicide or at christmas?

nishimura: wat do u think freak.

you: kys. food over free entertainment? i see what kind of boy you are, riki nishimura

heeseung: i think i’m a part of the family emailing list

heeseung: i even got assigned to bring a plate of dessert

jay smells: of course you did.

jay smells: i got assigned to bring meat and they’ll probably expect it to be like slow cooked lamb or something

Jungwon Yang: I’ll be there.

Jungwon Yang: At Christmas. Not suicide.

Jungwon Yang: 👋

you: how can someone be horrifying over text?

barbienoo: i’ll def be there at christmas (:

barbienoo: can’t make the suicide, sry

you: i’m calling it off

you: it’s so pathetic how i only have jake as my audience

you: if anything that’s only making me MORE suicidal

heeseung: need some company, y/n?

heeseung: jeongin and beomgyu dumped me

you: poor baby heeseung

you: be a man about it and kill yourself.

gaymansaywhat: Anyone else feeling like a third wheel rn?

For once, the school day passes by relatively boring. No children crying, no friendship drama, and no boys tugging on ponytails. Humming to yourself, you tidy up your classroom while thinking of what to have for dinner tonight. Jake and Sunghoon were out bar hopping with Felix -- which basically meant they’ll be touring all the gay bars in the city.

“Hey.”

Glancing up, you see Heeseung resting in the doorway of your classroom, his brown satchel Jay gifted him for his eighteenth birthday hanging off his shoulder. He was wearing a blue plaid button-up, black trousers, and those fancy leather brown shoes Jay buys by the hundreds. Seriously. Half of Jay’s room is full of shoe boxes.

“Hey,” you respond, dumping the handful of trash you were holding into the nearby rubbish bin.

“Hungry?”

“I could eat three horses.”

Heeseung grins. “Perfect. I have a reservation at that new Italian restaurant in ten minutes. Meet you there?”

You narrow your eyes. “Is this a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?”

“Well, you are fresh out of a break up. I know you, Beomgyu, and Jeongin were involved for a while --”

“--I hope you know we were joking about that polyamory shit --”

“-- It wasn’t a joke. It’s okay. We love the gay community in this classroom --”

“--Don’t tell me that you’re in love with me, Y/N --”

The conversation full of interruptions dies there. Can Heeseung tell? Just by the way you’re standing? Or the way you’re talking? That you’re in love with him? Shit. You need to do something to throw off suspicion. You can’t have Heeseung thinking you’re in love with him. That’ll lead to your demise.

(“Okay, here’s my ‘How-to-stop-loving-Heeseung-Lee’ guide,” Lily Morrow announces, sitting on her bright pink couch in her bright yellow apartment. Yizhuo was sitting next to Lily, squinting at the Colleen Hoover book she was reading -- unfortunately, Yizhuo had fallen victim to Booktok’s Colleen Hoover propaganda. She’ll have to learn the hard way.

Wonyoung was also here. She was eating hot cheetos and daintily dusting off her fingers with a cute handkerchief your pretty sure you helped Sunghoon buy.

It was Girl’s Night. Well. An attempt at Girls night because only four of you were here. Minjeong had other business to attend to -- Beomgyu and Jeongin apparently took higher priority over Girls Night. Chaewon actually had work. Like. Real life work. A full time corporate job kind of work, which was unfortunate, and Yunjin was attending to an SNS text Heeseung had sent her. Speak of the devil.

Fiddling with the ends of the throw pillow Lily’s roommate, Jinsoul, bought, you lean towards Lily with eager ears. “Tell me, Mrs. Morrow. Tell me how to stop my twelve-year pining.”

Lily clears her throat. “First step is admitting, to Heeseung’s face, that you do not love him. Admittance in the face of adversity is always a good start.”

You nod, eyes gleaming. “Okay. Admit I do not love Heeseung to his face. Good start. What’s the next step?”

Lily makes a face. It looks like she just got a toothache. “Um. That’s all I have.”

There’s a long pause.

Yizhuo gasps. “What a shit book!” And then she throws it across the room, narrowly missing the cat-shaped lamp Lily’s roommate -- Jinsoul, once again -- bought. “What are you two talking about?”

“What the fuck, Lily? Why did you call a Girl’s Night then? We were supposed to figure out how to stop my pining!” You cry, shoving your face against the ugly throw pillow.

“I was….interrupted.”

“What was more important than coming up with a comprehensive guide to getting over Heeseung Lee?”

“Um. Jake called me. Said he had lady problems.”

“He -- what? Jake has lady problems? He’s -- he can’t even get his dick up?!”

Yizhuo snorts. “He can’t get his dick up?”

“He asked me if female dogs also go through puberty because Layla wasn’t listening to him.”

“I’m gonna kill that fucking dog.” You swear.)

You laugh. “In love with you? That’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said, Heeseung Lee. I am not in love with you!” Phew. Good save.

“Hmm, okay!” Heeseung shrugs. “Let’s go eat.”

It’s a short drive over to the new Italian restaurant. You and Heeseung park next to each other and enter the restaurant in silence. It’s packed and conversation is spilling out into the night. Everything about this restaurant speaks romance, and it’s hard to not notice all the dates happening around you as you’re seated smack in the middle of the restaurant.

Since you were driving, you decided to get some Fanta.

“You still like Fanta?” Heeseung asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Hater,” you scowl. “Fanta is good.”

“Sure. If you were raised in a dumpster and had to fight your way out.”

You pick up the knife in front of you, watching it glint in the moody restaurant lighting. “Don’t test me, Heeseung. I was a waitress in high school.”

“Is that supposed to scare me? Are you going to “are you ready to order” me to death?”

“Watch that mouth, Heeseung Lee.”

Heeseung grins and focuses back on the menu in front of him. “You do know Jeongin and Beomgyu and I weren’t actually dating?”

You smile, rolling your eyes. “Of course I know. But to anyone else? Well.” The spaghetti bolognese sounds good, but their ravioli sounds even better -- oh wow their gnocchi. This is going to be a tough decision to make. Glancing up at Heeseung, you can’t remember the last time you two ever hung out like this. In fact, you can’t ever remember the last time the two of you were this polite with each other.

“So, why’d you ask me to join you tonight? Do you still feel bad for eating all my doughnuts?” You set the menu down, deciding on the ravioli.

“Nah,” Heeseung shakes his head. “Jeongin, Beomgyu, Yunjin, Minjeong, and I had this slideshow night a couple of nights back. Jeongin’s slideshow was a lecture on how we should all be mature by now -- I mean, no twenty-five-year-old should still be arguing like a twelve-year-old with their friend.” Heeseung glances up at you, an oddly warm look in his eyes. “It kinda got me thinking.”

“Oh,” you fail to come up with a response.

Your waiter comes back and you order your food.

“I guess it’s time we mature,” you agree with Heeseung. You feel as though your world has been turned upside down. Being mature with Heeseung? That sounds immature. “Does this mean we have to say good morning and good evening to each other, and ask how each other is doing whenever we see each other?”

Heeseung snorts, siping his orange juice. (He’s one to talk about ordering Fanta. Only freaky losers order orange juice. Orange juice drinkers are the worst types of humans. Trust.) “Not that adult-like mature, Y/N. It’s like we didn’t grow up together.”

“Well, if you wanna get technical --”

“Jay talked about you all the time in elementary school. I felt like I knew you before I actually knew you. I also thought you and Jay would get married, but apparently Jay has a type for women and men who don’t want him. Case and point; Yuna and Jungwon.”

You giggle, thinking back to Jay’s whirlwind romance with Yuna -- that was all in his head. Jungwon…well that’s a work in progress according to Jay. You’re pretty sure Jungwon has a thing with Rei, which is probably why Riki is a bit antagonistic towards him because Riki has a thing for Rei.

“Jake told me he was out with Felix tonight.”

You nod your head. “Jake and Sunghoon are going bar hopping with him. I wonder how long it’ll take for them to realize they’re actually going to every gay bar in the city.”

“It’ll take a while for Sunghoon to figure out. He’s used to getting hit on by everyone and everything.”

You raise your glass of Fanta. “Let’s cheers to that.”

Your food arrives. It was just as yummy as you imagined, and the night floats away as you and Heeseung talk about everything under the sun. It felt weird, but nice, not arguing with Heeseung over stupid petty things like siblings would. You think you could get used to this.

You order a brownie for dessert, and of course after saying he was too full for dessert, the gooey chocolate brownie is too tempting for Heeseung.

“No!” You exclaim, whacking Heeseung’s hand away. “You do not get to eat this brownie. I’m paying for it, so I’m eating it. Don’t even think about touching it. I don't want your ugly music teacher hands getting all over it.”

“You hate me,” scowls Heeseung. “And what did music teachers ever do to you?”

“Exist,” you snarl.

Heeseung eyes you, and then breaks out into a grin, leaning back in his chair and stretching. “Ahh, I know what this is. This is reverse psychology flirting.”

You give Heeseung a look, and then reach out to touch his forehead. “Are you sick, Heeseung, what are you even saying?”

Heeseung bats your hand away and opens his mouth. “Ahhh?”

“Ahh,” you mock back and shove the entire brownie into your mouth.

“Why do you eat food like it’s going to disappear in .5 seconds. What happened to savoring the flavor?”

“So. Since when were you on my family’s email list for Christmas dinner?” You address the elephant in the room -- well, the elephant in the room for you. You’re pretty sure Heeseung isn’t aware that that’s all you’ve been thinking about for the past 48 hours.

Heeseung shrugs, finishing off the last of his eighth glass of orange juice. “It just happened. I think it’s also your mom trying to get me married into the family.”

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to get down on one knee?”

“I wouldn’t get married to you.”

“How else will you marry into the family? I’m an only child.”

“There’s always Jay.”

“He’s my mother’s non-biological son.”

“She still thinks of him as a son.”

“Fine. Be gay. See if I care.”

Heeseung has a smug grin on his face. “I think you do care, Y/N. You care greatly about the fact that I would choose Jay over you.”

“Everyone chooses Jay over me. Even my own mother,” you grumble.

“How’s the Heeseung project coming along?” Yizhuo asks as she’s painting your nails over the dining table. Jay was busy in the kitchen, airpods in, and cutting up some vegetables for the curry he was making. Jake was busy crying over some physics shit and taking breaks to stare at the pack of Malboros he bought yesterday, and Sunghoon was giggling like a teenage girl as he texts Wonyoung.

Freak.

“Well, I told him I didn’t love him to his face like Lily advised,” you say.

Yizhuo nods her head.

“And that’s all I’ve done so far.”

Yizhuo gives you a disappointed look.

“Don’t look at me like that!” You whine. “It’s just. Hard. Okay? Super duper hard because everything about him attracts me. Even his fucking adam’s apple.”

“Why are we talking about Adam's apple?” Jake asks, walking into the kitchen, tears streaming down his face and his fingers twitching.

You both ignore Jake who then immediately breaks down as soon as he opens the refrigerator. Sometimes you regret moving in with Jake. He’s prone to breakdowns.

“Keep this up and you’re gonna die alone. And a virgin.” Yizhuo hisses.

“Actually, I’m not a virgin. Remember?”

“Why’d you have to remind me,” groans Yizhuo.

So -- the sex thing.

You + Jake + alcohol = Sex.

End of story.

Yunjin suddenly bursts into the kitchen, Sunghoon following close behind. She leans over, her hands resting on her knees and she gasps for breath. Everyone stops what they’re doing and stares at her. It takes a while for Yunjin to regain her composure -- it’s probably all the hotboxing she does with Beomgyu, Jeongin, and their pickle rick bong.

“Heeseung -- Heeseung’s on a date.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is where Act Two begins.

Act II: A love that nobody could destroy

[SCENE: CHRISTMAS PARTY, 9 PM]

It’s Christmas. It’s the season of cheer. It’s the season of snow, snowmen, and eggnog. It’s the season of giving. It’s the season of kissing each other under the mistletoe and having hot Christmas sex while Jingle Bells plays.

You sit on the couch, eyes following Heeseung around the house like a hawk. So, Heeseung has been going out on dates with a girl named Ryujin. Interesting. You’ve never heard of the name Ryujin before, and your mother knows everyone in the godforsaken city. Next to you, Jeongin shifts uncomfortably.

“Remind me why we’re sitting together?”

“You’re a Heeseung magnet,” you tell him.

“I am?”

You look at Jeongin. “Yes.” And then you look back at Heeseung.

Christmas; season of cheer and giving, but for you? It’s the season of green-eyed monsters named jealousy. You wonder, what does this Ryujin girl have that you don’t? What was so special about her that made Heeseung decide to go on dates with her instead of you? Was your hang out at that really nice Italian restaurant really that bad? You shiver at the thought.

Jeongin, ever the Heeseung magnet, manages to attract Heeseung over to the couch you were both sitting on. Sitting up straighter, Heeseung takes a seat beside you, his knee brushing yours. You almost drop your eggnog.

“Hey,” Heeseung greets, grabbing a pillow and holding it against his chest. “Pretty fun party, isn’t it? Your mom always throws the best parties, Y/N.” Heeseung beams at you. Teeth and all. You swoon a bit.

“Yeah, well, she’s putting on her best since you’re here.” Is this flirting? Are you flirting? Beside you, Jeongin snorts into his cup of lemonade.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “So, how many cards did you get before Christmas break? I got about fifty. Lots of chocolate too.”

“I’m not sharing that private information with you.”

“Ahh, you only got three.”

“Did not! My students love me!” You defend.

“Hmm. Sure.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Heeseung smiles like he knows the answer to every question ever. “Oh, you know. I’ve heard some things about you…..”

You practically pin Heeseung to the back of the couch, your eggnog thrust into Jeongin’s unwilling hand. “Tell. Me. Now.” You demand, through gritted teeth. “Or I will castrate you.”

“Last time you threatened castration nothing happened.”

“This time it will happen. I know a guy who knows a vet.”

Heeseung raises an eyebrow. “Do tell, Y/N.”

“First, you spill your secrets and I spill mine.”

Unfortunately, Sunghoon interrupts your interrogation. “As much as we’re all enjoying the view,” Sunghoon says, sounding deeply amused, “your services are required, darling Y/N.”

If you were Medusa, Sunghoon would be stone. “What.” Venom practically spits from your mouth. Who dared to interrupt your interrogation? Oh. Of course it was Jay and Jake. They stand in a shadowed corner, beckoning you over with not-so subtle hand gestures.

Reluctantly, you let go of Heeseung, pat down your dress, and approach the two boys, Sunghoon hot on your heels.

“How important is this?” You hiss. “I almost had Heeseung’s confession.”

“Confession?!” Exclaims Jake. “He was gonna admit his love to you?”

Freeze frame -- a little backstory;

After Yunjin all but burst into your kitchen with that sudden proclamation of Heeseung on a date, Jay promptly asked you what you were going to do about that, which led to you freaking out and wondering how the hell Jay knew you were in love with Heeseung.

“I knew it from the moment I introduced you to him,” Jay said, sounding proud of himself. You, on the other hand, can’t help but feel suspicious. Since when was Jay so observant of you? In fact, when has Jay ever been that observant? Or had those kinds of feelings -- the psychic weirdo feelings? Jay’s a pretty straight forward facts kinda guy. Suspicion fills up your stomach, but you push it aside.

“Yeah, Y/N. You should go confess to Heeseung. It’s getting tiring,” Jake had followed up with after Jay’s explanation. It seemed his tears had dried up. After another shouting match of you asking Jake how he knew, you found out Jake only found out last year because Jay had told him. Once again, you were suspicious because since when did Jay willingly tell Jake all the secrets he knew? If there was one thing Jay was good at, it was goading Jake. He loved to tease and annoy the shit out of Jake, and he loved holding things over the Australian’s head.

Sunghoon’s reaction on the other hand, wasn’t surprising at all; “You love Heeseung?” An alien could be having sex with another alien in front of Sunghoon, and he wouldn’t even notice.

So, you found out two of your roommates knew of your love for Heeseung, and Sunghoon had just found out, so immediately a plan was put into action. Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon took this seriously, deciding they were gonna play Spies. Overdramatic freaks.

That’s why Jake, Jay, Sunghoon, and you were conversing in a dark corner in the living room. Apparently, that’s something spies do. “We have intel on this Ryujin Shin,” Jake says, in a low tone, eyes scouring the room for any eavesdroppers. You have to stifle a laugh.

“Pray tell, Agent Layla.”

(Agent Layla = Jake

Agent Mariners = Jay

Agent Ice Prince = Sunghoon.)

(Pretty stupid names if anybody were to ask you.)

“She’s a lesbian.”

Silence fills the dark living room corner.

“And you’ve confirmed it?”

Jay whips out his phone and shows you photos of Ryujin Shin. HD 4K photos.

“We literally caught her in 4K.”

“You stalked her?”

“Well --”

“You guys are taking this spy agent shit too seriously.”

“We’re bored, Y/N!” Sunghoon whines. “Bored, horny adult men.”

“You could’ve left the horny part out,” Jake mumbles.

“Okay, So, she’s a lesbian,” you say, confirming it yourself as you swipe through photos of this Ryujin Shin girl kissing another girl. “Does Heeseung look like a girl?”

Once again, silence falls over the dark living room corner. All four of you turned to look at Heeseung who was engaged in what seemed like a deep conversation with Jeongin. Lord knows what they were talking about. Probably the drama in Jeongin and Beomgyu’s pilates class.

“No. He’s not.” Jay confirms.

“But if your tilt your head slightly….” Sunghoon says, with a tilted head. Jake whacks him and Sunghoon straightens up. “Nope. Heeseung is very much a guy. Jake can confirm because he’s seen his dick before -- right?”

Jake nods his head. “It was a pretty solid dick.”

“So, Heeseung is a guy, Ryujin goes around kissing girls, why the hell would they go out on dates with each other?” You ask the question of the hour.

No one says anything for a moment.

“Maybe it’s an experiment,” Jake pipes up. “Maybe Heeseung is trying to turn Ryujin to the dark side.”

“Dark side?” You ask.

“Straight.”

“The dark side is being straight?”

Jake nods his head. “We hate heteros here.”

“Down with the heterosexuals!” Sunghoon exclaims.

“Okay, I’m finished with this conversation. I’m walking away. And over to Heeseung.” You shake your head. You feel your brain cells exploding.

“Wait! Y/N! What was the second step in Lily’s comprehensive guide to getting over Heeseung Lee?” Jay asks frantically.

“There was no second step,” you say. “So I’m left to figure out the second step all by myself. I mean, I should probably go on a date with someone, right?”

“I can set you up,” Sunghoon says.

“No.” You shoot him down immediately.

Your date was a guy named Mark. You’re spending your date in front of a claw machine, watching Mark blow all his money on attempting to get this one monkey plushie you had pointed out. “It’s fine, Mark, really. I don’t need it.” But, like all men, he ignored you and shoved another one dollar note into the claw machine. Groaning, you turn around, not bothering to watch another failed attempt.

The arcade was alive with people at 8 PM. Huh, who knew.

At first, Mark seemed like a cool dude. And then he howled at the moon fifteen seconds after you started up a conversation about Twilight with him. He told you he was team Jacob and that made you incredibly wary of him. Why would anyone be team Jacob?

There were a million other games you would love to play -- like the motorbike one across from you. You totally ruled at motorbike arcade games. Or there was this zombie apocalypse game you passed by as Mark led you over to the basketball game -- and then you pointed out the monkey plushie and Mark forgot all about his bragging about how he’s the best basketballer since Lebron.

Your mind trails to Heeseung. Typical. If it were Heeseung you were on a date with, you wouldn’t be standing here with a deep longing to play the motorbike game because you would be playing the motorbike game. Heeseung would be on the bike next to you making stupid remarks and you would be beside yourself in laughter.

The thing is; you’re what someone would call ‘emotionally repressed.’ You hate thinking, talking and feeling your feelings. Especially when it comes to romantic attraction toward your long-time friend. Ever since Heeseung rejected you back in freshman year, you’ve become accustomed to pushing your feelings away and burying them in the deep dark depths of your mind. They rarely come out to play -- and when they do, you’re ready and waiting to whack them back into hiding.

With a huff, you decide that this isn’t the date you want. You don’t want to be stuck to Mark Lee’s side for the night, so with tense shoulders you turn around to -- Mark Lee holding out the monkey plushie you pointed out, a broad grin on his face. “I’m a pro,” he says, fifty dollars poorer. “Now, it’s time for me to get my Lebron on,” and he leads you over to the basketball game.

Okay. Maybe Mark wasn’t that bad. He just….has some flaws. Fatal flaws. (Like seriously. Who howls at the fucking moon??)

“Noooo wayyy!” Mark exclaims, pulling up to the arcade game and tapping the shoulder of a hooded shoulder. As soon as you see the face of the hooded figure, you melt into the ground, never to be seen again. Heeseung Lee. What the fuck was he doing here? This was not the second step to Lily Morrow’s comprehensive guide to getting over Heeseung Lee. He wasn’t supposed to intrude on your date!

“Yo, Mark!” Heeseung daps him up, and then he sees you. Disgustingly, his face lights up. It’s like, ever since the Doughnut Incident, he’s decided to call you a friend, which isn’t exactly a good thing but also; you’re sick of being stuck in the friendzone. Like, c’mon!!!!!!!!!!! It’s been ten years since he rejected you, surely some feelings have developed in those ten years.

Well. There was the whole Jake Year. You don’t really want to delve into that -- too much uncharted territory and angst for you.

“Y/N!” Heeseung exclaims, wrapping you in a hug. If only Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon were here to see this. Wonyoung would also probably be there, since Sunghoon was. Ever since Christmas, you never see Wonyoung or Sunghoon without each other. Jay reckons they’ve gotten engaged. Jake’s too busy crying over Layla biting him to care.

“Hey,” you greet.

“You sound enthusiastic.”

“You know me, always enthused to see you.”

Ryujin Shin pops out of nowhere, because of course she does.

“Let’s be honest,” you blurt out, and then immediately regret it when Ryujin gives you a weird look. You need to stop hanging around Riki. And Jeongin. Don’t even start on Jeongin Yang.

Heeseung also gives you a weird look. “Let’s be honest, I need to poop,” you try to recover from that fuck up, but you think you only make it worse. “I think I’m about to blow, can we reschedule this date, Mark? I need to get to the nearest toilet before I explode.” You need to shut the fuck up. But you’re stressed and when you’re stressed, your mouth runs like a motor unable to stop. Jay says it’s your worst feature, Sunghoon says it’s your most defining feature. You told Sunghoon his most defining feature was the bruise he was about to get from your punch to the face.

“Are you sick?” Heeseung asks. Because apparently you constantly get sick around him.

“I’m fine.” (Why does your voice crack?) Suddenly, the arcade becomes overwhelming. You have to get out. So, with a hurried goodbye to Mark, you exit the arcade, gripping the monkey plushie tightly and trying to push the boiling pot of emotions further down -- but it doesn’t work, like it normally does, and your chest becomes tight.

You make it halfway down the street before you start crying. Why are you crying? Why?? What brought this on? Maybe it’s the fact Heeseung’s dating other people -- lesbians, to be exact. Maybe it’s the fact you tried to move on. Maybe it’s the fact Heeseung is always there, wherever you go.

Okay, so you know you haven’t gone into much detail about how much you truly love Heeseung, so here’s the truth; you love him. Really love him, that sometimes, it’s hard to breathe. You love Heeseung, that just the thought of him keeps you awake on random nights. When you were thirteen, you planned out your life with Heeseung in your diary. When you were fourteen, after Heeseung rejected you, you cried so hard you threw up and took three days off of school. When you were fifteen and trying to move on from Heeseung, you couldn’t.

When you were seventeen, you played a game of seven minutes in heaven and you wished badly to get Heeseung. You thought that maybe, if he kissed you, he would take back his rejection from freshman year. Instead, the bottle landed on Jake and --

You’ve loved Heeseung for twelve years.

Every time you think about the future, Heeseung is always there. Even now, when you’re trying to move on. Even now, when you were waiting for Mark to get the monkey plushie. Even now, as you’re crying, you’re wondering why it’s so hard to make Heeseung love you.

Maybe the whole Doughnut Incident was just the catalyst for this; your ultimate demise. Maybe, that Doughnut Incident, and everything that occurred after, is just the universe giving you a sign it’s time to give up. You’ve wasted twelve years of your life. Give Up.

“Y/N?”

Heeseung’s here. Heeseung -- Heeseung followed you?

You glance up, and Heeseung frowns, coming to stand in front of you to brush away your tears.

Maybe you were too in your head -- too blinded by fighting down your emotions that you didn’t realize how Heeseung truly treated you. Sure, you both argued over menial things, and called each other names just for the hell of it, but this was the true friendship of you and Heeseung -- forged over late night talks, and sneaking into Jay’s massive kitchen to eat all his pop tarts and drink his Coke.

Heeseung takes care of you. He was always there for you in high school when you spent hours in the school, and local library. He was there for you in college, when you were a pathetic mess and spent most of your freshman and sophomore years crying every day. And God. He was there for you during your Jake Years -- even when he shouldn’t’ve been.

This whole time, you’ve been deluding yourself into believing Heeseung never cared, when it’s so obvious now. He’s cradling your face, with concerned eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” His voice is soft. So so soft. You’re utterly beguiled. You’re overwhelmed. You’re in a daze.

You respond by kissing Heeseung.

The Jake Years.

1. When did Jake and Y/N first hook up

Freshman year of college

Senior year of high school

Junior year of high school

2. When did Jake and Y/N begin regularly hooking up?

Freshman year of college. October 31st.

Sophomore year of college. November 15th.

Senior year of high school, December 31st.

3. How long did this relationship last?

Five months

Two years

One year

One year, nine months

4. Why did Jake and Y/N begin hooking up?

Because Y/N needed to get over Heeseung

Because Jake had a crush on Y/N

5. What were the consequences for hooking up with each other?

The answer is too long to be multi choice

The friend group falling apart, Heeseung fading away, Jake and Y/N resenting each other for a year after the relationship ended, Heeseung dating a girl called Giselle.

Y/N didn’t realize it at the time, but Heeseung loved her. He was in love with her. His heart was dedicated to her. He would’ve confessed, if it weren’t for him walking in on Jake and Y/N making out in a bathroom. Heeseung tried to keep his distance from Y/N, and Jake, but he loved her. So, he stayed and tried to repair his broken heart in the process.

Jake and Y/N blaming each other for all their problems.

All of the above. And more.

Examiner’s notes: I know this looks like a lot. And it is. And there’s more. There’s always more to the story, and if Y/N hadn't been so blind, then she would’ve seen Heeseung’s love and affection for her. Heeseung got to college, and realized he missed Y/N more than any of his other friends. He missed her, and missing her made him love her. He worshipped Y/N, and was willing to do anything for her and that made it hard to walk away from their friendship when she started hooking up with Jake, so Heeseung stayed. He fucking stayed. He stayed, and let Y/N shatter his heart whole. If Y/N had only opened her fucking eyes, looked outside of her mind, she could’ve seen what she had been wishing for for most of her life. Good exam. You seemed to have studied this topic well -- you have the best marks in this class! I hope to see you taking this course at a collegiate level.

“Not a fucking intervention,” you groan, opening the door to see Beomgyu and Jeongin in yoga pants and matching cheetah-print tank-tops. Did cheetah-print tank-tops even exist? You wonder where Beomgyu and Jeongin found them, Lily and her roommate, Jinsoul, would totally love them. “I don’t need an intervention. I’m fine. Please, I hate pilates.”

Jeongin grabs your arm and yanks you out the door. “Nope. You’re coming to our pilates class.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Try us,” Beomgyu smiles. It’s not a nice smile. You hate it when Beomgyu smiles with his teeth.

Jeongin and Beomgyu’s pilate’s class was infamous for many things -- their teacher, Joshua Hong, was a little bit on the…..gay side. And everyone who went to pilates with Beomgyu and Jeongin, came back a changed person -- Jake can attest to that. He was free of his Christian guilt and immediately lit up five bongs, got stoned, ran through the streets naked, and entered a Catholic church. Talk about extreme.

“Fine. I’ll jump out your van and kill myself.”

“It’ll be our pleasure to witness that great feat,” Jeongin responds, rapidly pushing the down button on the elevator before giving up and heading for the stairs.

“What the fuck why are we taking the stairs? We live on the fifteenth floor. I’m not walking down fifteen flights of stairs. Look! The elevator is starting to climb floors --”

“Shut up and start climbing, Y/N,” Beomgyu says, holding the door open. “You need this.”

“Did you just call me fat?”

“Maybe. Move your fat ass.”

“Rude as hell.”

“You wanna know what’s rude?” Jeongin asks, and instantly, you know what’s about to be said.

“Nope. Don’t say anything. I don’t wanna know --”

“Kissing our best friend and then running away.”

Yeah. That happened. Call it a moment of panic.

You groan loudly, the sound reverberating through the stairwell. “I’ll admit, not my finest moment.”

“Actually, hooking up with Jake while Heeseung was in love with you was not your finest moment,” Jeongin corrects, holding up his forefinger. Behind you, Beomgyu disguises his laughter as a cough.

You already knew Heeseung was in love with you while you and Jake were hooking up because of Sunoo. He was severely inebriated and decided to spill dark, juicy secrets to you. But, like everything else related to Heeseung, you pushed it away and pulled on your blind glasses, letting your unreliable train of thoughts control the narrative of your life.

Pulling up to a pilates class in jeans was the worst mistake of your life, but Beomgyu and Jeongin didn’t seem to care as they placed their mats down at the very front of the room, and right next to….Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki. God. You were literally in hell.

Jungwon hisses at you, Riki smirks, and Sunoo holds in his laugh. Clearly, the news of you kissing Heeseung had spread fast.

“I hope all women die,” Jungwon claims in a rather dramatic fashion.

“Don’t say that. They’ll call you misogynistic,” Sunoo says, patting Jungwon on the head.

“Well. That is something a misogynist would say,” Riki points out.

“I can’t believe you broke Heeseung’s heart a second time,” a voice behind you says.

“Who the fuck are you?” You ask, whirling around.

“Chan!”

“Someone with the name Chan probably stinks,” Beomgyu says.

“That’s rude,” Chan comments.

“Your feet stink,” the person behind Chan says.

Chan leaves the pilates class.

“So,” Jeongin says, beginning to stretch. “What happened?”

You stand there, arms folded, mat still folded, and in jeans. “Not telling.”

Jungwon hisses again. Sunoo has to manhandle the younger boy away from you.

“Why not?” Beomgyu asks, pulling out a cruiser from his bag. He takes a sip like it’s water. To be honest, you’re not surprised. You’ve seen their fridge before. You’ve never wanted to unsee something so badly.

“Because it’s stupid,” you feel ashamed to admit this but whatever. You pick at your jeans.

“What’s stupid?” Jeongin probes, now doing a handstand -- what the fuck?

“Just -- everything!”

Upon your sudden proclamation, the pilates instructor, Joshua Hong walks in. Saved by the teacher, you let out a sigh of relief. Jeongin and Beomgyu would have to give up their interrogation for now and you’ll get time to think over pretty solid excuses to their questions.

Or so you thought.

“Gayshua -- sorry, Joshua!” Beomgyu calls out, “we have another one!” And he points to you. This Joshua Hong fellow grins so brightly you literally have to squint. Talk about veneers.

“Dope. Come on up here,” Joshua gestures to the podium that is usually used by instructors.

“What?” You’re confused.

“Intervention time!” Sunoo cheers, clapping. Soon, the whole studio is clapping and Beomgyu leads you up to the podium. You feel totally befuddled. What the fuck. You were supposed to air out your deepest darkest secret to a room full of strangers?

“Alright, this is Y/N,” Beomgyu introduced you. “She’s in love with our best friend, Heeseung Lee. You all know Heeseung, right?”

Everyone nods their head, and a voice rings out, “yeah! He’s pretty dope.” The voice belonged to Mark Lee. Of-fucking-course. Somehow, this all gets more embarrassing.

“And he’s in love with her too and she broke his heart --”

“He used to be in love with me,” you correct Beomgyu. “He doesn’t love me anymore.”

Beomgyu laughs so loudly you cower away. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“What…..what was funny about that?” Your ears are still ringing.

“If he didn’t love you anymore, why is he crying in bed watching Riverdale? Why did you break his heart a second time, as he so dramatically put it?”

It’s like an atom bomb was dropped on you.

“Wait. You said Riverdale?”

Beomgyu nods his head. “That’s how you know it’s bad.” Then he turns back to address his fellow pilates friends. “Y/N did a classic ‘kiss-and-run.’ Today, we will help her unpack all of her feelings, and emotions. But beware; she’s incredibly emotionally repressed. Like it’s fucking terrible.” Then, Beomgyu hops off the stage, and everyone’s eyes are on you.

“Yo? A kiss-and-run? She must be insaneee,” you hear Mark murmur.

Maybe he was right.

That pilates intervention did nothing. You ended up getting stoned with Beomgyu and Jeongin after, and then immediately falling asleep as soon as you got home. Heeseung plagues your dreams. He’s a never ending nightmare -- right? Dreaming about Heeseung is a nightmare?

The week continues on. You ignore all the advice Beomgyu and Jeongin’s pilates class gave you and instead take your own advice. You avoid and ignore the problem -- Heeseung. Hell, you don’t even like his Instagram stories. It’s serious business to you. Even at school you manage to avoid Heeseung.

It’s a Saturday night. Wonyoung is over for dinner. “You know, Y/N,” Wonyoung speaks up suddenly as you’re loading the dishwasher and she’s searching through the fridge. “I think you’re pretty pathetic for avoiding Heeseung.”

Being called pathetic by Wonyoung Jang of all people means you’ve hit a new low.

“Pardon?” It’s the only response you can manage.

Wonyoung shuts the fridge and smiles at you. “Well, first of all, I don’t know why you enlisted in Lily’s help. Everyone knows she’s not the best person to go to for help. And second of all, I don’t see the point in avoiding Heeseung -- you both love each other. Just go and confess and then you’ll live your life-long dream.”

“It’s complicated,” you protest, but even to you it sounds like a weak excuse.

“No it’s not,” Wonyoung responds, studying the various photos and reminders pinned to the surface of your fridge by the random magnets Jake buys -- he has a magnet addiction. It must be the physics part of him -- “you’re the one that’s making it complicated. You love to complicate things, don’t you?”

This whole conversation is worse than death.

You spend the entire night replaying the conversation over and over again. Your fingers begin to twitch and you grab your phone, unlock it, and click on Heeseung’s contact, your finger hovering over the call button.

A minute later, you throw down the phone and get up to use the toilet. You’ll never be able to work up the courage to call, or text Heeseung. Maybe this is for the best, really. Pushing open the door to the bathroom, you stop in your tracks upon the sight of Jake helping Layla pee into the toilet.

“Oh, she’s actually getting better?”

Jake turns and flashes a smile. “You know what they say! Practice makes perfect!”

“Right…” you trail off. “Jake, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Jake says, grabbing some toilet paper for Layla.

“Do you regret….it?”

“Yes,” Jake says, without missing a beat.

“Oh,” you don’t know why you feel so offended, but you don’t blame Jake for regretting it. A lot of friendships were ruined in the process of your relationship.

“You know, Y/N, you’re not as emotionally repressed as you think. If you wanted, you’d be with Heeseung right now.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Sex buddies for life!” Jake grins. “Look, Y/N. You can’t blame yourself for everything that happened in college. We were stupid, you were emotional and in love and I took whatever you gave me. It’s in the past, we’re more mature now. You have a chance, and you should take it. Don’t be afraid.”

You groan and hold your head in your hands. “I just -- I just can’t call him. I can’t. What do I even say to him?”

“So don’t call him,” Jake says matter-of-factly. “Go see him.”

“Go see him? At 2 in the morning?”

“Excuses, excuses,” tsks Jake. “I’ll drive you.”

“You’re broke and have no gas.”

“I nicked Jaehyun’s keys in the lobby earlier.”

“Jake!”

“You’ll be thanking me later. C’mon, let’s go.”

Jake pulls up to Heeseung’s apartment building. You’re sitting in the backseat since Jake insisted on Layla having the passenger’s seat. Your stomach rolls over with nerves and every gulp you take only increases the speed of your heart.

“I feel sick,” you croak.

“Throw up in the gutter, not in my car.”

“You mean Jaehyun’s car.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get out and go see Heeseung. Tell him you love him and want to have his babies.”

“Alright, alright.”

Layla barks at you as you exit the car.

“Layla says ‘fighting!’” Jake tells you.

“Thanks Layla.” You sigh and turn to look up at the building in front of you. “I can do this,” I whisper.

“I won’t wait for you!”

“What?!” I exclaim, turning back around. “Why not?”

“I’m tired and need sleep, so you better make sure Heeseung accepts your love and apology otherwise you’re walking home, or sleeping on the street.” With that, Jake pulls away from the curb, leaving you standing helplessly in your cat pajamas and BTS hoodie.

The elevator ride up to Heeeseung’s floor is the longest ride of your life. You’re sweating everywhere -- forehead, palms, armpits, elbow, behind the knees, and even your feet. You can do this. You can do this. It’s easy, just apologize and admit your love.

The elevator door dings open revealing Heeseung.

“Oh!”

“Oh.”

You and Heeseung stare at each other for so long, the elevator doors start to shut again. For a second, you want them to shut and take you away, but then you remember Jake’s threats, and Wonyoung’s words and you’re thrusting your hands out, stopping the doors from closing.

“Heeseung,” You begin with a surge of confidence. “I’m sorry for running away after kissing you. That was kind of a stupid move.”

The elevator doors begin to shut again. You thrust your hand out to stop them from closing. “Like, it was genuinely stupid because why did I do that? I mean, I’ve been in love with you for twelve years, so I should’ve stayed and kissed you more --”

You hold your hand out to stop the doors from closing.

“--I should’ve enjoyed kissing you. But instead, I ran because apparently that’s what I’ve been doing for the past couple of years. It’s true, though, that I’ve loved you for twelve years. I loved you every second of those twelve years. I’ve never stopped. And it’s okay if you don’t love me back, even though Beomgyu told me you’re watching Riverdale. I’m sorry for making you so sad you watched Riverdale. I think that’s the worst part about all of this.”

This time, it’s Heeseung who stops the doors, letting you continue on with your monologue. You hope you’re making sense.

“I guess this is where I say; I love you Heeseung, and I would like another chance to kiss you.”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything when he gets into the elevator with you. He presses the lobby button, and watches the door close in silence. You’re pretty sure you’re not breathing. “Heeseung?” You ask, gently. “Are you okay?”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything until the doors ding open, revealing the lobby. Turning to you, Heeseung takes your hand and leads you out of the elevator. “Heeseung, where are we going?” You ask, following Heeseung as he leads you out of the apartment building.

It’s raining.

“Do you have an umbrella?” Heeseung asks, finally saying something.

You shake your head.

“I can’t be bothered going back up to get mine. Are you okay with walking in the rain?”

“Of course, as long as I’m with you.”

Cringe or not, it makes Heeseung smile.

“Well, actually, I kind of do mind because when my hair dries after being out in the rain it gets all frizzy and --” You cut yourself off as Heeseung breaks out into a sprint, tugging you along with him. What the fuck was he on? Was he stoned, or something? Maybe he was leading you to your death. Sounds right. You, too, would murder Heeseung if he pulled a kiss-and-run on you. In fact, it would probably be a murder-suicide.

Okay. That’s kind of morbid.

It turns out, Heeseung took you for a run around the block. God he’s such a weirdo. And a loser. And a freak. And you’re totally in love with him. He has no flaws. He’s perfect. He’s like Prince Charming, if Prince Charming’s hobbies were hotboxing and playing every instrument known to man.

“What the fuck, Heeseung? Why did we just run around the block?”

“You look cute,” Heeseung responds. “I totally dig your cat pajamas. Didn’t Jay give you those?”

“Um. Yes? Answer my question, Heeseung.”

“I actually told Jay to buy you those.”

“Really?”

Heeseung nods. “He was freaking out. He didn’t know what to buy you. I, as usual, was his savior.”

“Oh, well, thank you?”

“It’s fine,” Heeseung smiles, his eyes crinkling. “And to answer your question; I’ve always wanted to kiss someone in the rain.”

“....Okay but why did we have to get soaked?”

“It makes the kiss more romantic.”

“How so?”

“Want me to show you?”

God, you don’t think you’ve ever smiled wider. You’re pretty sure you’re splitting your face in half with how wide you’re smiling. You must look ugly. Hopefully Heeseung will still want you. “Yes. Please.”

So, Heeseung shows you.

He kisses you.

And he’s right. He’s so fucking right. You should start kissing Heeseung in the rain, while soaked, more often.

He kisses you, and you stop shivering. He warms you from the inside out. Heeseung Lee is officially a genius. He should get a Nobel Peace Prize for kissing in the rain.

“Wow,” you say, pulling away. You feel Heeseung’s thumbs brush over your cheeks as he cradles your face so gently. “You were right.”

“Always am. And for the record, I love you too, I accept your apology, and I’ve loved you for thirteen years.”

“What? No you haven’t! I’ve loved you for longer!” Heeseung is a liar. He is a freak. There is no way in hell he’s loved you longer than you’ve loved him. Seriously, how blind and stupid are you? For all you know, you and Heeseung could’ve been in a twelve-year long relationship by now. Damn. You feel sick all of a sudden….curse you and your stupid self. You should ask your mom if you got dropped on the head repetitively when you were a baby.

“Yes. I’ve loved you for thirteen years. I remember when I first felt it. We were at Jay’s. It was barbeque night. You grabbed the ketchup bottle and it exploded all over your top. One of the funniest moments of my life, but it was also the moment I started loving you.”

“....That’s not fair.”

“Nothing in life is fair.”

“You’re such a loser.”

“Says the one who ran away after finally kissing me.”

“Can we not bring that up?!” you whine.

“Oh, I’m gonna bring it up for the rest of your life,” grins Heeseung.

“Let’s break up.”

“No,” Heeseung says, and kisses you again. “Also, I was expecting more of an extravagant way of professing your love for me,” he says after drawing back from the kiss.

“Oh, I had something planned. I was going to make my kids, one by one, enter your classroom with a rose and hand it to you, and then I was gonna get the band to play "I Melt With You" by Modern English while I get down on my knees and profess my love for you.”

Heeseung’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Really?!”

“No.”

jake’s intervention: stop kissing everything

[2:45 AM]

you: heeseung and i are dating btw

you: in case anyone cares

[12 PM]

gaymansaywhat: Congrats.

[9:22 PM]

nishimura: sunoo give me 20 bucks or jungwon gets it

author’s note: idk what that ending was. it just got worse the longer i went on…. also this probs couldve been more angstier but i am currently suffering and going through the worst writers block of my life so pls forgive me. anyway stars will fall part two is being written its just. a long process. hope u enjoyed this shit show pls dont take any of it seriously 😭😭😭

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