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formula-ghost · 23 days ago

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Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 1

SERIES SUMMARY: You’ve been best friends with Oscar Piastri since you were seven, far before the dream of Formula 1 even seemed possible. You’ve been with him from the very beginning—due, in no small part, to the fact that you’ve been in love with him since you were a teenager. But when a breakup and championship battle rattles the very foundations of your friendship, you begin to question if you ever really knew him. (Best friends to lovers, based on the song Wildflower by Billie Eilish)

WORD COUNT: 11.1k

WARNINGS: Oscar is not a very good boyfriend to Lily and Lily is not a very good girlfriend to Oscar. Potentially changed some dates (I think Oscar and Lily started dating when they were 17 or 18, but I’m making them 18 for the sake of the flashback scenes). Reader is “the girl he told me not to worry about” through no fault of her own. This story has a lot of complex character dynamics and everyone is flawed! References to sex but no actual smut.

A/N: Ah new series! I hope this is good—I’m trying some new stuff with the flashbacks and story layers, so I hope it doesn’t read too confusingly! Also, I’m trying to be more intentional with showing instead of telling with my dialogue and such, so hopefully that is an improvement. I always welcome constructive criticism, but either way, I hope you all enjoy this.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

“Lily left me.”

He only needed those three words to convey the gravity of the situation. On the other end of the line, you were silent. He was too. What was there to say?

No, it couldn’t be real. Oscar and Lily were inseparable. The dream couple of Formula 1. Your best friend had been in love with her since the pair were 18, attending boarding school in the UK together while Oscar pursued his dreams of making it to F1.

They were each other’s everything. At least, that’s what the world thought.

But you had seen this coming for a while now. It was just a shock for it to actually happen.

Finally, after an eternity, you spoke, still too shocked to formulate a coherent thought. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean she fucking left me. What else do you want me to say?” You could hear the quivering in his voice, giving away the sadness behind his abrasive response. You weren’t offended one bit.

“Shit, Osc, I’m so sorry. I… don’t know what to say. Do you want me to come over? Or you can come to mine?”

“I’m outside yours right now. In the car park.”

“I’ll let you in,” you said. The mental image you conjured of Oscar outside your apartment crying in his fancy McLaren would have been comical, if not given the circumstances.

He let himself in only a few moments later, hoodie covering his tall and muscled frame. He was soaked from the rain outside—he must have come directly from the confrontation.

“Oh, Oscar,” you said, pulling him into a hug, cringing at the contact with his soggy hoodie, but knowing that there were far more important things to be worried about.

You rubbed your hands up and down his shoulder blades that now heaved with sobs. His entire body shook with the fervor of his tears, and you just held him, gently shushing him and promising that everything will be okay.

“I don’t know how she could do this to me,” he said, gasping out the words between haggard breaths. “The championship—I can’t do it without her.”

“I know,” you assured him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not, YN, it’s not gonna be okay. I love her. And she just threw away so many years.”

“I know.” You just kept assuring him, tightening your grip on him as his sobs became more intense. “Just breathe.”

“Why would she do this to me?” he asked. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

You knew. And deep down, Oscar did too. That was a conversation for another day. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this coming.

You didn’t have it in you to lie to him. You had always been the type to pride yourself on being honest, even when the truth hurt, but you couldn’t bear to do it now. You changed the subject.

“Oscar, you’re soaking wet. I’ll find you something else and warm that up in the dryer, yeah? Just sit down, take a deep breath, and let me get this figured out.”

He sat down on your couch and took off his hoodie and t-shirt underneath, revealing his toned body. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before—you’d been friends with him since you were seven, growing up together. He almost felt like a brother to you, sometimes.

Maybe it wouldn’t be weird at all, except for the fact that you’d been in love with him for over a decade now.

But right now that didn’t matter. He had plenty of old hoodies over in your apartment, which you carefully folded every time he forgot them. Placing his wet clothes in the dryer and setting the temp on high, you reached to the shelf above you and grabbed a random one. You unfolded it—an Alpine hoodie from back in the day, before his time at McLaren. You smiled at the memories that flashed in your mind, before quickly returning to Oscar with the garment.

He had moved from your couch to your bedroom, holding a pillow on his lap, hunched over where the top of it met his chin. He was staring off into space, not breaking his gaze at the plain white wall.

You sat next to him, handing him the hoodie, and he mumbled a small thanks as he grabbed it. He didn’t put it on, instead just holding it with the pillow, as if filling his arms with the plush material would fill the hole now left in his heart.

“Oscar, I… don’t have anything profound to say. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond at first, instead just silently letting the tears well up in his eyes.

“I guess I should have seen this coming,” he said quietly.

You paused, unsure whether or not you should agree with him. But you were nothing if not honest.

“Yeah,” you said, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“I guess we just both fell out of love.”

“I mean… how did the conversation go?”

It would be stupidly easy for Oscar to lie and say he didn’t remember Lily’s every word. But he knew better, and so did you. As he explained, the memory replayed in his head.

“I can’t do this anymore, Oscar,” Lily said, a simple yet devastating statement.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” His confusion was genuine, much to the chagrin of his angry girlfriend.

“The fact that you even have to ask that proves my point.”

“Lily, talk to me. I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Oscar stood up, now understanding the full gravity of the situation he found himself in.

“I’m trying to say that I’m not happy anymore, and neither are you. I wanted to at least give it until the end of the season, but I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when we both know bloody well that it’s not! Don’t you want something better than this, Oscar?” Lily pleaded.

“I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Don’t lie to me. You say that but you put everything else before me. I’m not a priority to you. I haven’t been in a long time.”

“I’ll quit F1. We can go back to the UK and live a normal life.”

“No. We both know that you wouldn’t do that.” Her tone was incredulous, twinged with a slight anger at the mere suggestion.

“Yes, I would. I’d do anything. Don’t do this, Lily. Not now, not when I need you the most.”

Lily grabbed his hand, leading him to sit down on the couch next to her. “Oscar,” she began, “we had a good run. You made me so, so happy for so long.” She reached up to gently cup his cheeks and wipe away where tears were now forming at the edge of his eyes. “I saw you achieve things that neither of us ever thought were possible. But…I can’t stay any longer. Not when there’s no place for me in your heart anymore.”

You sighed. You knew every word that Lily had said was right. But you also knew you couldn’t get that through to Oscar, at least not until the shock wore off.

The words remained unspoken. You had been there for all of it. Lily was his first love, his only girlfriend, and everyone assumed that he’d marry her one day; you included.

“I just…I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on acting like my life didn’t just fall apart. How did you do it?”

This was Oscar's first breakup, but you had been through too many, it seemed, since he was asking you for advice on how to handle them.

The truth? It was very easy to get over a breakup when every partner you’ve ever had was a feeble attempt at denial. When they all inevitably failed, you just went back to bask in Oscar’s platonic love. It was enough.

“I won’t lie to you, the first one is always hell. You feel like you’re going crazy for a while. You lose hope that you’ll ever feel happier, because everything reminds you of them. And then one day it just…doesn’t. The only thing that heals it is time and finding love around you, you know, friends and family.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

‘Well, I’m not going to lie to you and say it’ll be easy, because it won't. But it will be okay—not today, but someday. You’ve got something to focus on with the championship. And I’ll be here.” You gave him an empathetic smile.

Maybe you weren’t the most comforting friend to most. But you and Oscar had a bond that was very different to most friendships. You understood each other’s idiosyncrasies in ways no one else could. So when shit hit the fan, it was always each other that you went to.

You continued, “You can stay here as long as you like.”

“Thank you.”

There was only one problem: your apartment only had one bed. And to the dismay of fanfiction writers across the world, you all would not be sharing it.

You distracted Oscar by cooking a meal and watching a comfort movie—Cars, a classic. You could tell he was exhausted by the way his head on your shoulder sloped just a little too heavily downwards as the credits rolled.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed,” you said, gently pushing him awake. He sleepily stumbled back into your bedroom and collapsed on the bed, almost instantly falling back asleep.

You took the couch, but despite the money you spent splurging on the extra cushioned sofa, no sleep came to you.

It wasn’t any physical discomfort that fueled your insomnia, but rather, the events of the previous evening. Lily had actually left Oscar. She had finally pulled the plug.

Yes, in some ways, it was expected. But at the same time, you couldn’t imagine a version of your best friend that wasn’t madly in love with his girlfriend.

From the outside, though, you couldn’t blame Lily one bit. You wondered what had been the last straw.

You could think of three possible moments. First: The Apartment.

“I’m moving to Monaco,” Oscar began, and you felt your heart drop in your stomach. Of course, one day he’d make it to Monaco. That was the dream of every Formula 1 driver, right? The beauty of the French Riviera and tax evasion. And you’d be left at your aging flat in the UK, waiting for those precious few days a year where he was free to grace you with his presence.

“That’s amazing!” you said, only half believing it to be true.

“In a few weeks I’m gonna go look at condos. Come with me? Lily can’t get off work.”

“Of course,” you replied. You’d already been to Monaco before for Oscar’s races, but you wouldn’t turn down any reason to get out of the constant dreary rain of the UK.

You felt like a celebrity as you coasted through the Monte Carlo streets in the passenger side of Oscar’s McLaren, on your way to tour fabulous properties for your best friend (the actual celebrity). You breathed in the saltwater breeze, fresh and tinged with the air of wealth and splendor.

But it hurt your heart to know that you were helping your best friend leave. You imagined him getting up and doing his morning runs along the harbor, the sun blazing down the strained muscles on his back. Then you laughed to yourself at the thought of Oscar, the pastiest Aussie you knew, getting sunburnt.

At the first property you met the realtor, who (after mistaking you for Lily; not the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last) took the pair of you to different condos throughout the day.

Oscar decided on the final one you saw; two bedrooms, plenty of natural light, and a great view. Elegant, refined and practical—just like Oscar himself.

The realtor handed him the paperwork and left as you stood on the balcony, looking at the beauty of the city before you. You were quiet, unusually so, and Oscar noticed.

He sat the paperwork on the kitchen counter and walked onto the balcony next to you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice lowered. “You’re gonna make such beautiful memories here.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me now?”

You smiled and laughed. “A little,” you admitted, “I can’t help it. I’ll miss you all.”

“You could always come with us. You seem to like it here,” he teased, tilting his head toward the edge of the balcony.

“You’d have to give me a raise if I was gonna afford Monaco rent prices.” You’d been running Oscar’s merch store and social media for the past few years, making a great wage, but nowhere near the immense wealth you’d need to call a place like this home. You joked with him, knowing Oscar actually had nothing to do with how much you got paid.

“I would if I could. But, I mean, if you had a place to stay it wouldn’t really be that bad.”

“Are you suggesting I move into your guest room?”

Now he laughed. “No, but I’m just saying, if you had an apartment, you could make it work.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused, but trying to go along with the joke. “Well, sure, but apartments don’t just appear out of thin air.”

“You never know.” Oscar scratched the back of his neck and looked away, a sign of the awkwardness that now blanketed your moment on the balcony.

“What are you getting at?”

“Well, theoretically, if someone were to have a spare apartment that they weren’t using, you could live there and Monaco would be a reasonable place to live, no?”

You didn’t answer his question, instead just giving him another confused glance until he gave up whatever he was trying to say. He still couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Look—I don’t want to live so far away from my friend. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Oscar, you…”

“I got you an apartment.”

“You… bought me an apartment. In Monaco.” It came out more like a statement than a question, evidence of your shock. He reached into his pocket and dug out a key, holding it out to you.

You just looked at him with an incredulous expression. “Oscar, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not?”

“How much was it?”

“I have more than enough money.”

“Answer the question.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “About 4 million?”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Before you say anything,” he began, “I made over 30 million last year. I have more money than I’d ever know what to do with, so why not just spend it all on the people I love?”

“Oscar… I can’t, that’s too much.”

“Will you at least go look at it with me? Actually, I’m driving, so you don’t have a choice,” he joked, walking back into the apartment. “Let’s go.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. There was no way you could let Oscar buy you a 4 million dollar apartment, but also, how could you not? The wind whipped through your hair as you rolled down the window of his McLaren, drinking in the beauty of the city around you.

The apartment was smaller than the one he had picked for himself and Lily, but you didn’t mind one bit. It was perfectly cosy, and God, the view was spectacular. You could see the whole city from his apartment, but here, you could see the water. You stepped on the balcony and took a deep breath, taking in the sound of the ocean waves beneath you.

Oscar followed you. “It’s a bit small, but I figured you’d like the view.”

“Oscar…”

“If you really don’t want it, I can rent it out. But I’d much rather have you close.” He held out the keys again. “What do you say?”

You could have told him you needed more time to think about it, but deep down, you already knew what you wanted. You took the keys. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Oscar. Seriously.”

“No need to thank me.” He smiled.

Back in the UK, he showed Lily the photos he had taken of the condo he had chosen for them as they went over the paperwork one last time.

He grabbed the pen to scratch out one of the boxes Lily had checked, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

“Oh, did I mess something up?” Shit. She leaned over his shoulder, reading the paperwork aloud. “Please indicate if you own any additional properties in the principality of Monaco.” She looked at Oscar. “You already have a property there?”

“Oh, erm, yeah,” he said, hoping the conversation would end there.

“How come I never heard about this?”

“Um, I just got it a bit ago.”

Lily could sense her boyfriend’s hesitancy. “Is this something I wasn’t supposed to know about?”

“Oh, no,” he said, “it’s not like that. I just didn’t think to mention it.”

“So, what is this property?”

“An apartment.”

Lily hated feeling like she was having to interrogate Oscar, but clearly there was some piece of the puzzle missing that was causing his reluctance.

“An apartment?” she questioned. “You got another apartment?”

“Yeah, I, um,” he looked at the ceiling while scratching his neck, a clear sign of his nervousness, “I was planning on giving it to YN.”

“You bought YN an apartment in Monaco? When were you planning on telling me about this?”

His walls of defense had finally broken down. “It’s not a big deal. I made more than enough last season, I could afford it. And it’s just easier to have her there for the brand shoots and media stuff. Plus, I mean, she came to London to support me after graduation, even though I know she hates it here. I just figured I should repay the favor.”

“...Okay,” Lily began, her voice tinged with skepticism. “So, you do realize what this looks like, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my boyfriend bought an apartment for his “best friend” and tried to hide it from me. That’s the kind of thing cheating husbands do in movies, buy an apartment for their mistress for her to keep it quiet.”

Oscar wasn’t sure what annoyed him more, the air quotes Lily placed around “best friend” or the insinuation that he had been unfaithful.

“Lily, seriously? I’m not cheating on you, I love you and you know that.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You know YN and I have been friends forever, it’s not like I did this for some random woman. I don’t appreciate being accused of lying.”

“But you were lying by omission.”

“Lily—”

“You know, nothing against her, but one of the reasons I was looking forward to this move was having more…us time. Without YN.”

The statement brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Despite what she had said, it seemed like Lily did have something against you.

“You know, this kind of thing is why I was putting off telling you about it.”

“What are you saying?” she asked. Oscar knew he was tempting fire, but he didn’t care.

He continued, “You’re freaking out because I did something kind for a friend. I’m allowed to do whatever I want with my money.”

“I never said you weren’t, and I’m not freaking out. But I guess I’m just such a horrible person for saying I want to spend more time with my boyfriend.”

“If you’re putting down my “best friend” to do it,” he said, mocking her air quotes, “then yeah, that’s not cool.”

“Oscar, you’re being so…weird about all of this. I’m not insulting YN. I just want to spend more time with you.”

“We’re literally going on vacation in February!”

“With friends. You invited your friends to our romantic getaway, Oscar.”

“You know I only have so much time off during the off season, and I’m spending most of it with realtors and accountants and eight thousand other people preparing us for this move. God forbid I want to invite my friends to Italy with us. Not everything can be just us, Lily.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’m done with this conversation.”

The second next instance you could think of happened on the trip.

It was a beautiful getaway to the Amalfi Coast, your dream destination that you’d somehow never made it to.

The group of Oscar’s friends, including you and Lando, had plans to come and go, with everyone being gone before the fourteenth so that Oscar and Lily could have their Valentine's Day date. Of course, you knew nothing of the arguments they’d had in the past about this, but you had common sense enough to not be a third wheel. Oscar thought this was a good enough compromise.

Well, he thought.

From the moment he picked you up from the airport, you could tell that the energy was different than usual. He blamed it on jet lag, but you knew better. You knew your best friend too well.

It didn’t take you long to figure out the problem was between him and Lily. She was colder towards him; not enough for anyone but you and him to notice, but still there and undeniable.

Even weirder was Lily’s…preoccupation, it seemed, with pointing out single and attractive men to you. It wasn’t a hushed reality that you were single, and had been for some time. You'd given up on dating a long time ago—you knew that you had already found the love of your life, and he just happened to be Lily’s boyfriend.

But, of course, you’d never tell anyone this. Lots of people were confused because you seemed so fine being single. But you thought that Lily, one of your best friends (at least, by association), would know that you weren’t really interested in meeting anyone.

You sat with Lily in a restaurant overlooking the coast, the balcony having been rented out by Oscar for one of your last dinners. You all were waiting for him and Lando to join you, passing the time by ordering wine and appetizers.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Lily said, gesturing her head to your waiter that was walking back into the main restaurant.

You didn’t really know what to say. You glanced at him through the glass wall. “Lily, he most definitely plays for the other team, if you know what I mean,” you joked, reaching for a slice of bread on the table. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

“Well I don’t mean for me, I meant for you.”

You chuckled. “For me?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you want to get yourself a hot Italian man?”

“I’m perfectly happy being single.” You tried to diffuse the awkward conversation, keeping a kind tone in your voice as you ate the bread and looked into the distance at the coastline.

“Oh, come on. We’ll get you someone, don’t worry.”

“I really am fine being single.”

“You know who else is single?” she asked, clearly ignoring your protests. “Lando!”

You laughed aloud. “Oh God, no. If I wanted to be cheated on, I would have stayed with my ex. Besides, Oscar would kill him.”

A curious fact: Oscar had never approved of a single person you had ever introduced him to. You had to spend hours talking him out of running over your ex with his F1 car after you found out about his infidelity.

“Oh, who cares what Oscar thinks? I think you should go for it,” she said, watching as the waiter returned to pour your glasses of wine.

“Lily,” you said, holding your glass, ready to take a sip, “I don’t want to be in a relationship, like, at all. It’s just…not for me.” You sipped the wine, but through the reflection on the glass, you could see that Lily had pursed her lips in an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“If you want me to stop third-wheeling you and Oscar, you can just say so,” you joked as the boys made their way to the balcony to join you.

You didn’t know it, but your joke cut deep in Lily’s heart.

Nothing was said about it during the dinner, but Lily’s strange energy continued. It quickly became uncomfortable how much she was pushing Lando and you to interact.

And when you all made your way to a local nightclub after the dinner, it didn’t get any better. Lando quickly got himself lost in the crowd, and you were once again left to be the third wheel.

You could tell that Lily was getting annoyed, but to be fair, she was also annoying you.

“Go dance with Lando!” she shouted over the thumping bass. She gestured to the opposite corner of the small club, where Lando was currently making out with some random Italian woman.

You pointed this fact out to Lily, who just grimaced.

“Do you just want me to go away?” you joked.

“Yes!” she said, and you were taken aback, because she was definitely not joking.

Oscar was at the bar getting drinks, far enough away that he couldn’t hear. To be honest, you didn’t even want to be in this club anymore.

So you snuck out and began your walk home without telling any of them.

As you walked along the cobblestone streets, Oscar handed Lily a drink, pausing when he noticed that you weren’t there to receive yours. “Where’s YN?” he asked.

“She wasn’t feeling well, so she headed back,” Lily said.

“By herself? Should we go check on her?”

Lily wanted to roll her eyes. “No, she’s just tired. C’mon, let’s go dance!”

Oscar obeyed, but couldn’t ignore the feeling inside him that something about this whole night had been odd.

The next time he saw Lando, he decided to say something about it.

“Hey mate, are you going back soon?” he asked. Lando nodded, clearly tipsy. “Can you check on YN? Lily said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Sure,” he said, annoyed at the mention of you again.

He did come back to the house soon, but with an equally drunk and giggly woman on his arm, the same girl he had been making out with in the corner of the club.

You didn’t expect any of them for a long time, so you sat in the living room of the AirBNB, watching the waves cascade into the shore, romanticizing this complicated feeling that coiled itself inside of you.

That was, until Lando stumbled in.

His eyes got wide as dinner plates upon seeing you. The girl on his arm giggled and walked off into the nearest bathroom.

“Hey YN,” he slurred. “Are you dying?”

You laughed. “I’m fine.”

“Lily said you were sick.”

“Nope, I’m good.”

He looked to the closed door of the bathroom. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“You’re fine. I’m…uh, not interested, anyway. I don’t know what Lily’s been on about today.”

“Oh, thank God,” he exhaled. You laughed, despite the sting of rejection in his relief. “Well, I’ll keep it quiet.”

“I’ve got headphones.”

You made your way to your room and put on your noise cancelling headphones, passing the time by scrolling and catching up on work emails, before falling asleep.

You didn’t sleep through the night, instead waking up in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was just beginning to round itself along the golden coast. You left your room to get a glass of water, not expecting to see the rest of your friends in the kitchen.

Lily looked hungover as hell, leaning her elbow on the counter, her hand resting uncomfortably on her forehead. Oscar was leaning against the counter on the other side while Lando sat at the bar next to Lily, drinking something out of a mug. His flight home was going to leave soon.

You nodded to your three companions as you sipped your water glass, feeling the tension around you like an oncoming migraine.

“You feeling okay?” Oscar asked. “Lily said you weren’t doing well last night.”

“Ah, just tired,” you answered. Lily had lied to both Lando and Oscar. That was a conversation for another day.

“Well rested now?” Lily asked, her voice tinged with anger and fake sympathy.

“I’m fine,” was all you could answer. You glanced at Oscar, who gave you a knowing look. You had no idea what had gotten into her.

“Are you feeling okay, Lily? You look like you’re about to throw up,” you said, a more genuine concern in your voice.

“I’m fine too,” she said, clearly not fine.

Lando’s Uber pulled up, and you took the opportunity to help him transfer all his bags in one trip.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on with her?” he asked as you heaved the suitcase up into the trunk.

“No idea,” you answered. “Before you all got to the restaurant last night she was being…weird. For the record, I didn’t put her up to any of that.”

“I figured as much. You’re not the type.” Lando was right—it was common knowledge that you were happily single.

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. For the record, it made me uncomfortable too.”

He exhaled. “Eh, we’re cool. No hard feelings, yeah? I’m sure she’ll snap out of it.”

“I hope so,” you said, giving him a wave as the car disappeared into the winding roads of the coast.

Back in the house, you could hear Oscar and Lily whispering to each other. You wanted nothing more than to disappear and act like this weird night and morning had never happened, but unfortunately, you had to cross through the kitchen back to your room.

A hush went through the room when you entered. You walked as quickly as possible through the kitchen, but were stopped by a voice.

“YN,” Lily called. “I think you should leave.”

“Lily—” Oscar interjected.

“I was just going back to my room anyway,” you explained.

“That’s not what I meant. I think you should go home.”

“Lily, don’t do this—” Oscar pleaded. You just stood in shock.

“Actually, let me clarify,” she continued. “YN, I don’t want you here. Go home.”

“Lily!” Oscar interjected. “Don’t say that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, even though it was definitely not fine. “Let me pack and I’ll be on my way.”

You turned and continued back to your room, fully prepared to do as you had just said. But Oscar followed you.

“YN, wait. Stay,” he said.

“Oscar, it’s fine.”

“I am so sorry that Lily said that, but I want you here.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two or why she’s so upset at me, but if someone tells me to go, I’m not going to overstay my welcome.”

“Still, that was so rude.”

“I’ve got thick skin. I won’t cry myself to sleep over it.” You looked out the window to the coast. “Look, I’ll just find someplace else to stay. A hotel for a few nights is cheaper than trying to reschedule my flight, anyways.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me, Osc,” you said, patting his shoulder. “Go talk to her, figure out what’s wrong.”

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I already know what’s wrong. She’s mad that we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Then go spend time with her.”

“That was the plan! But, I mean, I’m pissed that she said that to you. And she spent all day yesterday trying to set you and Lando up, which was fucking weird.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled with a twinge of laughter. “Look, with my record I can’t exactly give you love advice, but I don’t mind leaving. You all clearly need some space, anyway. Just text me if you need anything, okay?”

Oscar gave you a flat smile and nod.

You packed and quickly booked a private room at a local hostel for the next few days, planning to enjoy the last few days as a solo trip. You truly didn’t care, but in the back of your mind, you hoped that everything would be okay. You never received that text from Oscar.

Back at the house, Oscar and Lily were alone. And neither of them were happy.

“Just fucking go with her if you’re that mad,” Lily said, egging Oscar on. He had always been slow to anger, but he couldn’t deny that he was pissed.

“What is wrong with you?” he questioned. “Why would you say that to her? Do you understand how rude that is? And not to mention the fact that you were being fucking weird with her and Lando all night.”

“Oscar, I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“No, I’m pissed!”

“And, as usual, it’s all about your feelings, hm?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act stupid. Do you know how much I’ve put up with because I don’t want to hurt your feelings? Every vacation, every race weekend, she’s always there. And I put up with her because she’s your friend, but I don’t like her, Oscar.”

“What did she do to you?” he asked. But Lily couldn’t answer. It wasn’t like there had been a specific incident or falling out; in fact, you had always been kind to her. Lily’s silence was all the answer that Oscar needed.

“You knew that YN and I were a package deal from the beginning.”

Tears came to Lily’s eyes. “But this was supposed to be our trip. Just us.”

“Lily, they were only here for a few days. I specifically set it up so that we’d have 2 weeks to ourselves after they left. Is that not enough?”

She was silent, at first. Then came a question out of left field.

“Were you going to propose?” she asked.

Oscar made a face. “Propose?”

“I thought the point of the trip was that you were going to propose.” She looked away, trying to hide her tears. “I’m tired of feeling like an outsider in my own relationship. I’m sick of YN third wheeling, so I thought if I set her up with Lando, maybe she’d leave us alone for a while.” Her voice was tinged with an angry mocking.

She continued, softer, “Oscar, I want to be your wife, I want to grow old with you—”

But Oscar had little sympathy for her. “That’s really what all this was about? Lily, I’m not proposing any time soon.”

“We’ve been together for nearly five years.”

“I know. But with the season starting soon—”

“There’ll always be another season, another race. Is your plan to just marry me when you retire?” The sarcasm had returned to her voice. “Do you even want to marry me?”

“Of course I do. But we’re young, we have time. I’m in no rush.”

“I feel like you don’t care about what I want at all.”

“Lily, I’m trying. But I feel like you want me to cut off my best friend and settle down at 22. You’re asking things of me that I can’t give you.”

“Then why are we even doing this?” Lily asked.

“Because I love you, and I want this to work! But Lily, you can’t treat my friends like that. If you’re angry at me, talk to me, but don’t take it out on them. YN is an important part of my life, too.”

“I’m well aware.”

Oscar sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Lily announced, leaving the conversation altogether.

When she woke up, her head was pounding. Oscar was asleep beside her, his back towards her, no warmth even in his unconscious state. She had slept through the entire day—the moon hung high in the sky.

As she quietly made her way to the kitchen and got some water and a snack, the memory of what had happened came back, rushing over her. She felt horrible.

The sleep and food had reset her mind. Make no mistake, she was still upset at Oscar, but what he had said was right—she shouldn’t have taken it out on you. She needed to make it right.

She texted you. Hey YN, are you awake? I’d like to talk. In person, if you can.

Only a few minutes later you responded, affirming that you were available and sending the address of your hostel. Lily got there quickly, quietly walking through the rooms to your private room in the back. When you shut the door behind you and you both sat on the bed, she broke down.

“YN,” Lily began, “I am so sorry about this morning. Truthfully, I was upset at Oscar and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I was so rude.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.

“No, it’s not,” Lily interjected. But she seemed at a loss for words. “I just… sometimes, I feel like I hardly get any alone time with Oscar anymore.”

“Because I’m always there?” you joked, not knowing how close to the truth you really were. Lily didn’t respond. “Look, if you want me to take a step back, I can do that.”

Her response was quiet. “Would that be too much to ask?”

“No.” But it was, in a way. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces, but your expression gave away nothing. “I understand.”

“I don’t think he loves me anymore,” Lily confessed. You normally didn’t want to know the details of their relationship, because the truth was too heavy to bear. But it seemed cruel to cut her off. “I feel like he never wants to be around me, like he prefers his work and his friends over me. I want to get married and he doesn’t. He keeps saying it's too soon and he’s busy, but it’s been nearly five years! I mean, how long does he want me to wait?”

You felt uncomfortable, not sure how to comfort your best friend's girlfriend. So you were honest. “I don’t know, Lily. I don’t know what goes on in Oscar’s head any more than you do.”

“Yes you do,” she replied. “You’ve known him longer.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“No, no, no,” you said, wrapping Lily in an embrace as she cried. “No, he’s not. He loves you so much.”

“No,” she echoed. “He doesn’t.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just held her.

At one point, your phone buzzed, illuminating the screen. Some unimportant notification, but you noticed the date and time more than that. It was past midnight; Valentine’s Day.

The third instance was during the first weekend of the 2025 season; the Australian Grand Prix.

You hadn’t heard from Oscar since the trip. You didn’t really know what to say, and part of you was dreading having to speak to him, knowing that your mere presence was now a strain on his relationship.

Of course Lily wanted more time with him. It made sense. You were present at…most things, actually. But Oscar always invited you, and besides, they lived together. If you had known that you had overstayed your welcome, you never would have gone in the first place.

But on the other hand, you and Oscar had been a part of each other’s lives for nearly double the time that Lily had been around. It wasn’t a competition, but you couldn’t shake that sour feeling that rested in your stomach, that if given the chance, Lily would want you gone for good.

Regardless, between the trip and the grand prix, life went on as normal. It was odd, since your job was literally running all the official OP81 media pages and merch website. You couldn’t not be a part of his life—you made your living by posting memes about him on the internet and organizing all his merch sales.

So, naturally, you went to nearly all the races to take photos of fans, the paddock, and the garage. It was one of your favorite parts of the job.

But Australia was different. It was Oscar’s home race, and a place full of memories for you.

Your family had moved to Australia when you were only seven, having absolutely no friends, except the sweet boy next door in your cul de sac. At first he was cold. You thought he hated you. But you were nothing if not stubborn.

You remembered it like it was yesterday; for Christmas, you asked for a pink motorized jeep, just like the black one that Oscar—the neighbour boy, back then—had. You squealed for joy when you got it. And the very first thing you did was challenge him to a race.

He ignored you. So you rammed your car into his, causing both of them to break. Ever since, somehow, you’d been inseparable.

Your parents traveled a lot for work, so instead of constantly going with them, you found yourself staying with the Piastri family for months at a time. Nicole truly felt like your second mom, and Hattie was the sister you never had. And Oscar was…Oscar. It was impossible to describe the bond between you.

Your parents were never too keen on Oscar, though. They kept it quiet when you were little, but as you grew, their dislike became more outward.

He was 14, leaving for boarding school in the UK. When he told you, you cried. That’s the only time he ever saw you cry.

You wanted to go with him, but your parents couldn’t afford it. He promised he wouldn’t let your friendship die, and he was true to his word. When he got into the higher formulas in racing, he helped you get your job so that you all would never be that far from each other again.

But your parents always said he was using you, stringing you along, exploiting your labor. Though you’d never admitted it to another soul, they knew you well enough to understand that you loved him.

You cut your parents off a long time ago.

Sometimes the fans were worse. Half of them loved you—the half that understood that you could give them access to your idol—but the other half of them called you a beneficiary of nepotism, a gold digger, or a homewrecker. You learned at a young age to develop thick skin.

And it was how you both behaved on race weekends that really exemplified the difference between you and Lily.

You liked to be everywhere at once—in the garage trying to interpret the engineers’ technical jargon, in the grandstands taking photos of fans, in the pitlane shooting the shit with the race stewards. You always wore Oscar’s merch, and you wanted to be in the middle of all the action.

Lily, in contrast, was more reserved. She always looked put together, and frankly stunning, at all her appearances. She preferred to watch the race from the comfort and privacy of McLaren hospitality, and when she did interact with fans, she was respectful but short, very conscious of her space.

Neither of you were better or worse than the other. But no one could deny that you were polar opposites.

You got to Australia before Oscar himself did, having been invited to spend a few days with your surrogate family before you’d have to stay in the hotel, per F1 employee policy. Nicole had told Oscar, who you assumed had told Lily, and when you didn’t hear anything for a few days before you were meant to fly out, you thought everything was fine.

Of course, you thought wrong.

You spent 3 days with Oscar’s family, relishing the warm feeling of belonging that you’d missed. The Piastri guest room felt more like your own childhood bedroom. Of course, Nicole asked how you’d been, but you were politely distant, wanting to respect the fact that Oscar and Lily’s relationship was none of your business.

When the pair finally landed in Australia and made their way to Oscar’s childhood home for the night, though, things worsened.

When Nicole got back from picking them up from the airport, you were in the kitchen prepping dinner. Hearing the front door close, you looked up and smiled, greeting the group.

“YN! What are you doing here?” Lily asked, her voice tentative.

Nicole answered for you. “Oh, she’s been here since Sunday. I’m so happy to have all my kids under the same roof again,” she joked, turning to Oscar to reach up and pinch his cheeks.

Lily just gave a pained smile.

You didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t talked to Oscar in nearly a month. You wanted to honor her wishes—but it seemed like her wish was for you to vanish into thin air.

The rest of the night you were unusually quiet, trying to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult for Nicole to notice that something was up, but she knew better than to bring it up in front of the whole table.

After dinner she wanted everyone to gather in the living room and watch a movie, which you quickly bowed out of, complaining of exhaustion.

As the credits rolled, Nicole leaned over to whisper to Oscar, “Is everything okay with YN?”

Lily overheard and interjected, “She’s fine.” Nicole raised an eyebrow.

Oscar responded, “The home grand prix is always busy for her.”

The answer wasn’t sufficient enough to crush Nicole’s suspicions, but she didn’t have any more time to pry as her son and his girlfriend quickly decided to retire for the night themselves.

The next morning, as everyone was packing to get to the hotel, Nicole decided to ask you herself if everything was okay. But predictably, again, you just said that you were fine. And the morning was so hectic that she didn’t really have the time to interrogate you.

Once you all got settled and to the track for media day, work mode took over, and you forgot all about the tension at the Piastri family home. Though you quite literally were paid to follow Oscar around all day, you felt more like the paparazzi than his friend, hardly ever speaking to him.

And as you went back to the hotel room alone to edit and post for tonight, you felt like a stranger in your own body.

You didn’t want to do this anymore. You missed your friend, but more importantly, you missed being yourself.

But what were you supposed to do? You loved Oscar. Oscar loved Lily. Lily hated you.

You were stuck between three impossible choices: stick around and be forced to subdue yourself into a shell of your true personality until Lily decided she wasn’t upset at you anymore, lose everything you’d ever built by quitting and moving away like you knew she wanted, or continue being yourself and possibly cost Oscar the love of his life.

Yeah, this was a wonderful predicament you found yourself in, through no fault of your own.

You moved like a zombie through the free practices and qualifying. When it was finally time for the grand prix, you assumed your usual place in the McLaren garage, for work if nothing else.

But then, Oscar won.

No team rules. No convoluted strategies. Just Oscar doing what he did best.

You couldn’t hear your own thoughts over the shout of the garage and the crowd in the distance, cheering out for their hometown hero. You ran out with everyone to the barricades to greet your best friend.

Though he still had his helmet on, you could see the effects of his smile in his squinted eyes. He pumped his fist in the air, cheering to himself before running to the barricades to jump into the waiting arms of the crowd. You cheered with them, overwhelmed with pride.

Oscar locked eyes with you, cupping your face with his gloved hands and pressing the top of his helmet to your forehead. “I did it, YN!”

“You did!” you yelled, smiling ear to ear.

Of course, people took photos. Photos that Oscar posted later that night.

Lily didn’t like it—the sweet intimacy of the moment, front and center on Oscar’s Instagram page. Why would you post that? It was like you were taunting her.

Lily sat on the edge of the hotel bed while Oscar showered, both of them preparing to meet you, Lando, and a few McLaren team members to celebrate his win.

When Oscar emerged from the bathroom, Lily asked him, “Osc, can you do me a favor?”

“Hm?” he murmured as he dried his hair.

“Can you take down that picture that YN posted?”

“YN posted something?” he questioned, grabbing his phone. As his social media manager, you had access to all his accounts, but occasionally he’d post something himself, too. “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

Lily pursed her lips. “The first picture from the post she made an hour ago.”

“Oh, this?” Oscar held up his phone. “I posted that.”

Lily was silent.

“Why do you want me to delete it? It’s a good photo.”

Lily just looked at him. Oscar sighed and archived the photo. “There, happy?”

His tone was much harsher than he intended, but to be honest, he was getting tired of the constant fighting, and his patience was wearing thin.

Lily kept quiet, just silently going into the bathroom to start doing her makeup.

In the lobby of the hotel an hour or so later, you awkwardly stood with Lando waiting for the couple to arrive. Once again you were torn—should you miss out on celebrating with your best friend on his first ever home win, or should you go and strain his relationship further?

You were just going to say screw it and go back up to your room when you saw Lily and Oscar walking towards you. Though there was no tension between them, there was no love either. They both just looked…tired.

Everyone had decided to keep it relaxed for tonight, just doing a nice group dinner with Oscar’s family. It was fine, albeit a tad awkward, because you were sitting between Lando and some McLaren employees you didn’t know, at the opposite end of the table from Lily, Oscar, and his family.

You knew this couldn’t continue forever. Something had to break. And it did, when you and Lando ended up back in Oscar and Lily’s room, drinking your way through a bottle of nice champagne.

The alcohol seemed to have calmed Lando’s nerves, as he was actually normal with you. And Oscar was a blushy, smiling mess and he and his teammate laughed at something you couldn’t remember.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the mood was ruined by Lily’s drunken slurring. “Oh my God, YN, just shut up! Go away!” she giggled and grabbed Oscar’s arm.

Usually, you were calm, letting any infraction roll off of you like waves on the beach. But the alcohol emboldened you.

“Lily, what the fuck is your problem with me?” you asked.

The mood shifted, and Lily gave you a look of disgust. “I was just joking, God.”

“No you weren’t.”

Lando chimed in. “Well, I think I gotta call it a night.” He got up and patted Oscar on the back. The two men stood up to walk out, leaving just you and Lily alone in the hotel room.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but don’t act like there isn’t one. It’s obvious that you don’t want me around, I don’t know what I ever did to you.”

Lily had clearly been sobered up by your seriousness. Still, she burst into tears.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.”

You sighed, unable to keep your anger in the face of her cries. She continued, “I just… Oscar and I were each other’s first everything. First love, first kiss…first time. I love him so much.”

“I’m not trying to steal him from you.”

Lily was quiet, and so were you. Something she had said gave you pause.

They were each other’s first everything—no, that couldn’t be true.

Because you were Oscar’s first.

It had been many years—you were both 18—and you had never spoken about what happened. But you remembered.

He came back home for Christmas from the UK. It was before he had even met Lily.

You welcomed him home with an embrace—even with the frequent phone calls you had, you couldn’t help but miss your best friend, now here before you, in the flesh.

Neither of you could sleep that night, and somehow you both found yourself in Oscar’s childhood bedroom, quiet in the early hours of the morning.

Though it was warm outside, Nicole had a habit of keeping the house frigid, so you and Oscar huddled together under the handmade quilt that decorated his bed. The moment was tender and quiet, together in the soft darkness.

“Do you like it in the UK?” you asked him, your question searching for a genuine answer.

“It’s okay, I guess. It’s what I have to do for the races.”

“But do you ever get…lonely?”

He paused. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

You traced small circles on the skin of your leg. The closeness of the moment was uncomfortable.

“But you have friends, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re not, y’know, friends for life.”

“I get you.” You really did, not having many friends of your own since Oscar left. “But you must have a ton of girls, though. They all want the cool race car driver.” You smiled, trying to use your humor to lighten the intimacy of the moment.

“No,” was all he answered. “And if I had a girlfriend, you’d be the first to know, anyway.” In the dark of the room, you could only see the outline of his features, but you could feel the pull of his eyes looking at you. “What, do you have a boyfriend? Is that why you’re bringing this up?” he asked.

“Of course I don’t.”

“What do you mean, of course?”

“I mean, why would I have a boyfriend? I have no friends and half the people at school think you don’t even exist.”

“What?” he laughed.

“Well, yeah, when I say my best friend drives race cars in the UK, most people think I’m making you up.”

“Shit,” he laughed.

“So, yeah, it doesn’t exactly get me dates,” you laughed. You felt your throat stiffen. “I haven’t even had my first kiss or anything.”

The silence in the room was thick. “I haven’t either,” Oscar confessed.

You found it hard to believe. Oscar was handsome, funny, everything a girl could want. Neither of you had ever been social butterflies, though.

Under the blanket, Oscar reached for your hand, placing it in his. Your heart was beating out of your chest; you had never even held a boy’s hand.

“We could just…do it now,” he said. “Just to get it over with.” He feigned his usual nonchalance, but you could feel the increase of his heartbeat and the ever so subtle tremble in his voice.

It would be easy for you to laugh it off like a joke. But you knew it wasn’t. And you wanted him.

“Okay,” you said, your voice breathy with nervousness.

You sat up on the bed, and saw the dark outline of his figure leaning towards you, gently tilting your head.

And when his lips met yours, it felt like home. Like everything in your entire life had left you up to this moment, here in the warmth of your best friend’s childhood bedroom.

The kiss lasted longer than you anticipated, but when he did pull away, it was too soon. You were grateful for the darkness that hid your expression. But even without the light, Oscar could see the truth behind your eyes.

“We could…keep going.”

“Okay,” you repeated.

One of his hands found your waist now, pulling you closer, as his other hand pushed back your hair that had fallen in your face.

Once again his lips met yours. It wasn’t like a spark within you—more like a calming, a sense of peace and safety. Of all the boys you’d crushed on before, Oscar was different. You trusted him with everything.

And you showed him so.

He slipped his tongue past your teeth, tentative, as if he was scared to do the wrong thing. But you let him close the gap, your own tongue gliding along his, goosebumps going down your back the closer you got.

He wanted to put his hands all over you, but he was nervous.

He pulled away. “I…don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t either. Is it actually your first time?”

“Yeah. You don’t mind me being your first?”

“I trust you.”

So you both took it slow, taking each other’s hands where you wanted to be touched, not focusing on anything but the other.

The love you made was quiet and simple, beautiful yet imperfect. But you didn’t need perfect. You just needed him.

The next morning, you slipped out of his room before anyone was awake, afraid of what would happen if they found out.

But no one ever did. Oscar never said a word about it ever again, and neither did you; after the holidays, he went back to school and met Lily, and the rest was history.

But you remembered. And as you sat in that hotel room years later waiting for him, you felt numb.

By the time he got back Lily had calmed down, but you couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You announced your departure, but Oscar decided to walk you out, too.

You closed the door behind you, but Oscar pulled you to not leave so quickly.

“Hey, is everything alright with you and Lily?”

“No. It’s not.”

He sighed. “I don’t know why she’s being like this.”

You just stared at him, your face blank.

“What,” he asked, “don’t tell me you’re mad too.”

“Was Lily your first?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

Oscar looked over his shoulder. “I’d really rather not talk about this in the hallway…”

“So do you want to go in the room and talk about it? In front of her? Because you lied to one of us. Which one was it?”

“YN, it’s—”

“Which one of us did you lie to, Oscar?”

He let out a sharp exhale, knowing there was no way to escape your line of questioning. He leaned down to whisper to you. “I didn’t lie to her. She just…assumed, and I never corrected her.”

“That’s still lying.”

“You really think I should go in there and tell her the truth?” His voice dripped with frustration.

“Yes. She deserves to know.”

“You know why I never told her? Because I knew this shit would happen, she’d get jealous and try to push you out of my life. If I tell her now, she’ll make me choose between the two of you.”

“Do you blame her?” you asked, astounded at how Oscar could be so clueless.

“Seriously?” he retorted. “You think she’s justified in doing all this to you? The entire reason she’s mad is because she knows if she tries to make me choose, I’m not choosing her.”

“Don’t say that! Oscar, she’s your girlfriend. You should love her.”

“I do. But things just…aren’t the same anymore. It’s like she wants me to change my whole life for her. I can’t do that.”

Unbeknownst to you, Lily got up from the bed and walked to the door, pressing her ear to it, where she could faintly hear you and Oscar arguing.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Oscar continued. “And if you don’t want her to split us up, just let me handle it.”

“Oscar, she deserves better than this. I’ve missed spending time with you, but… you’ve got to tell her the truth.”

Lily opened the door. “I knew it,” she said, her eyes full of tears. “I knew you were cheating.”

Your eyes were wide as dinner plates as Oscar cursed to himself. “Lily, I swear to God that is not what happened—”

“Don’t. Don’t even try,” she said, but Oscar pushed his way back into the room anyway. He looked back to you, and even without words, you knew it was time to go. You needed some sleep.

Unfortunately, Oscar would not be getting any sleep tonight.

“Oscar, just stop lying to me! I’m tired of this!’ Lily cried, curling her legs to her chest as she sat on the bed.

“Lily, I swear, I have never cheated on you. What YN and I were talking about was something from a long time ago.”

“We’ve been together for five years!”

“Can I just explain myself? Please?”

Lily just broke down in sobs. “Do whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

Oscar sighed. “Look, I…I have lied to you. You weren’t my first. YN was.” He looked at his girlfriend, who was still just silently crying. “It was before we even met, and it was just once, and we’ve never done anything since. I would never cheat on you, I love you and—”

“When and where was it?” Lily asked, cutting him off with her statement more like a command than a question.

“The December before we met, when I came home for Christmas.”

“In your bed?”

He nodded.

“Oscar, I slept in that bed next to you the other night.”

He said nothing.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Haven’t I been good to you?”

“Lily, I promise, I love you more than anything.”

“Then why would you lie to me for five years?”

Oscar took a deep breath and said, “Because I was afraid you would be upset. People don’t understand that me and YN are just friends. I mean, we were raised together, she’s like my sister.”

“You had sex with her. You took each other’s virginity.”

“It wasn’t…like that.”

“How can it not be like that? Do you even hear what you’re saying?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

About an hour after you left, you heard a knock on your hotel room door, and you answered. It was, of course, Lily.

“Tell me whatever Oscar wouldn’t,” she said. Her eyes were still puffy and red.

You welcomed her in, beginning to tell her the entire truth. “Oscar and I had sex when we were 18, before he met you. We never talked about it afterwards. After you met I didn’t want to bring it up, I just assumed he’d do the right thing and tell you. I didn’t want to pry into your relationship.”

So, your stories matched. And Lily knew that you were nothing if not honest.

“Do you love him?”

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend.”

“No, I mean, are you in love with him?”

You didn’t answer immediately. What were you supposed to say?

Tears fought their way to the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I don’t know,” you began, but that was a lie, you did know. “I guess…I have a special type of love for him. We grew up together. When we were younger, yes, I wanted to be his girlfriend. But then he met you, and… Lily, he was so happy! I just…I realized that I wanted him to be happy more than I wanted him to be mine. So I made peace with the fact that this is how it had to be.”

Lily was overwhelmed with your honesty, in the face of so much deception.

You continued, “I don’t blame you for being upset at me. Oscar should have been honest about what our friendship was like from the very beginning instead of lying to you. But I swear, we haven’t done anything while you all have been together. I’ve been cheated on and I know how much that hurts, I would never do that to anyone else. I’m so sorry it ended up like this.”

“No,” Lily said, “You’re the only one who’s been honest with me throughout all of this. Thank you.”

After that, you hadn’t heard from Oscar after that for a long time. Or, at least, a few weeks felt like a long time to you. But you had other pressing matters—your workload was through the roof with Oscar’s wins. Lando had snatched himself a win too, setting up an early battle for the championship. It was too early into the season to call it, but you knew Oscar was feeling the pressure with the possibility of his first championship dangling so close in front of him. So you kept your distance, not wanting to be a distraction.

That was, until he called you, saying just those three painful words.

“Lily left me.”

The sun was cresting over the horizon, illuminating the thick glass of your balcony and flooding light into your living room. You hadn’t gotten an ounce of rest.

From your bedroom, you could hear Oscar snoring. You just let him sleep.

God knows you both needed it.

890 notes · View notes

strawberrykidneystone · 3 months ago

Text

heavy are the hips or whatever

sevika x female reader

summary: beer is gross, but not when you have such a pretty bottle opener.

a/n: me just being horny please ignore. yes i know that bars are required to take the tops off before they give them to you but this is my world shhhh

tags: alcohol consumption, smoking, teasing

ao3 version

you hated beer.

despised it really.

but lately you’ve had a taste for it, solely for the person who opens the bottles for you.

which is how you got here, ordering another beer from the bartender who was already used to your antics, sliding you a beer with the cap still on. you never asked for a specific brand, frankly, you didn't care. he had given you a different brand every time you came up to the bar, yet you still hadn't found one that you enjoyed. some were fruitier than others which made them slightly more bearable, but overall, no dice. oh well, that wasn't what you were after anyway.

giving the bartender a nod and a cheesy grin, you happily grabbed the green-hued bottle off of the splinter covered counter and practically skipped back to the dark corner of the bar where the love of your life was playing a game of poker, unsurprisingly. you slowed back down as you got close to the table and stood at her side, rocking back and forth on your feet to wait as she made her call.

she tossed a few chips to the middle seemingly carelessly to the untrained eye and muttered "call", the rest of the patrons showing drastically different reactions. you could smell the other players apprehension a mile away, they were more than likely going to lose and they knew it. you've watched enough of her games to know when her opponents were licked, you also knew sevika well enough to know that she hadn't even looked at her cards yet. she simply oozed confidence, which was one of the things that initially drew you to her, it was enough to make you as shy as a schoolgirl.

a cigar hung out of the side of her mouth, lazily burning away as the game went on. she took a few quick puffs before taking a long inhale, blowing a perfect circle into the air as she exhaled straight up towards the ceiling, showing off her meaty throat that was decorated with bite marks and hickeys from your previous extracurricular activities.

sitting back and adjusting her hips, lifting them up slowly before settling back against the chair with emphasis since she knew you were watching. she looked up at you with a smirk and a knowing look in her eyes, she already knew what you were going to ask but she loved making you ask for it every single goddamn time. ever since she got that damn bottle opener buckle, it's been driving you crazy how sexy she looked practically man handling the beers that were handed to her. the foam sometimes spilled onto the front of her pants and you had to hold yourself back from kneeling in front of her and licking the fabric covering her crotch in front of everyone at the bar.

"whaddya need doll?" she questioned with a teasing tone, as if she hadn't already opened 2 previous bottles for you just that night.

you shyly held out the beer bottle with a small smile, avoiding her intense grey eyes.

she chuckled and shook her head, "use your words baby."

you held back a groan and dropped your arm back down to your side in defeat, you should've known that you wouldn't get what you wanted so easily, especially not with sevika. you sucked in a deep breath and said quietly, "...can you please open this for me?"

"what was that? i didn't hear you," she said with a shit-eating grin, drawing the attention of some of the players at the table.

you narrowed your eyes in annoyance and bit the inside of your cheek, gathering up all your confidence and holding out the bottle once again, "can you please open this for me?"

"of course baby," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice, her voice dripping with conviction. she took her cigar out of her mouth and snubbed it into the ashtray on the table as if opening the bottle would be a 2 hand job. the patrons who glanced over before quickly looked away, knowing they would probably get their heads chopped off if they dared to watch.

you pressed your thighs together in anticipation, your eyes immediately glued to her groin as soon as she took the bottle from you. she leisurely lined up the cap of the bottle under the hook of the buckle, keeping her eyes trained on your face for your reaction. this was as pleasurable for her as it was for you. adjusting her hips upward, she snapped the cap off the bottle and brought the bottle up to her lips, taking a sip of the foam. the cap fell onto the chair in between her legs with a clatter that you quickly reached down and picked up, the back of your hand dragging against her clothed sex with light pressure. her hips buckled up to try and follow your hand and she bit the top of the glass bottle to suppress a moan. you met her eyes with an amused smile that quickly dropped into longing as sevika circled the bottle with her tongue, flattening her tongue over the top before holding the bottle up to you. you mindlessly took the bottle from her, your eyes still focused on her mouth.

she patted the inside of her thigh expectantly and before she could even blink, you were perched onto the inside of her thigh. she chuckled at your eagerness and pressed a firm kiss into your cheek. she wrapped her arm around your waist and rested her hand on your hip. you took a sip from your beer and stopped yourself from making a face, tasting the cigar from her saliva on the glass. she leaned in and whispered huskily into your ear, "don't worry baby, I'll give you something better to put your mouth onto when we get home."

you couldn't help but choke on the course liquid that was on its way down your throat, your back straightening up as you blushed at the thought of tasting her. looking at her and nodding happily, you took a big gulp from your beer and squirmed on her thigh. she chuckled as she squeezed your hip to keep you still and gave your ass a quick slap, tuning back into the game.

it was going to be a long night.

a/n: bottle opener more like leg opener amiright, also sorry if you do like beer

#sevika arcane #arcane sevika #arcane #sevika #sevika fan fic #reader x sevika #sevika fan fiction #ao3 #strawberrykidneystone writes #strawberrykidneystone #sevika x reader

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tryagainenthusiast · 5 months ago

Text

jeong jaehyun (n)sfw alphabet

mdni!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he’s alllll up on you, literally unable to disconnect himself from you. if he’s not holding you against his body, arms wrapped so tightly you start to think that your circulation is being cut, he’s following you around the house like a lost puppy. when you stand up to shower he jumps up to grab you a towel, and your clothes, continuing to pepper kisses across your shoulders and neck as you walk into the shower where he joins you and mumbling small compliments into your skin.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

what does he spend all that time in gym for if not to throw you around like you’re the weight of a feather? his favourite part of his own body is his muscles, only because he knows that you like them and when you are happy so is he. “happy wife happy life.” he secretly likes when you take a little longer to gaze at his biceps when he carries something heavy, or after going to the gym together; so feeling you grab onto his arms during sex stirs something up in him that he has never felt before.

its also a crime to say that jaehyun is anything but a boob man. don’t get me wrong, he appreciates a good ass (specifically yours), he enjoys an occasional slap, a hand softly placed on the curve of your ass just to touch you. but your boobs are on another level…his favourite thing to do is squish them at literally any moment he can. the sensation of the flesh filling out the spaces between his fingers is something he craves when he is away from you, not even just in a sexual way—but because it makes him feel close to you. and the fact that you would let him do that to you makes him feel a little soft inside. during sex though, they’re the second most viewed thing (the first being your pretty face); he’ll put them in his hands, his mouth, against his skin, you name it, he wants it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

apart from in you? he’s not a super fanatic of doing things with cum, just like any man he likes to see his cum all over your lips after you’ve given him a blowjob to use his fingers and swipe it across your lips like lip gloss. to be honest, most of all he likes to see the look on your face when he has your cum on his chin and nose, letting it glisten under the dim lights of your room.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

the thought of recording his own porno just for yours and his eyes really plagues his mind. every time you and him get intimate there is a little thought in the back of his head that wonders what it would look like from another person’s perspective, and the way that your little breaths and moans reverberate into the mic and speakers. being able to look back on videos whenever he pleases, whenever he misses you enamours him and is something he wishes to have. he’s a private person, it would never see the outside of your bedroom, and whenever a member tries to go through his phone he immediately snatches his phone out of their hand. he wouldn’t ask you to film a sex tape right from the get-go though, it would start subtly with a couple of sexts, then the exchanging of a couple nudes, then maybe having phone-sex when he’s abroad. he would only bring it up later into the relationship when he knows that you are enjoying doing things like this as much as he is.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

virgin? obviously not. extremely experienced sex master? also no. he knows what he’s doing, he knows the steps and what women generally enjoy. i mean, how can you go wrong with head? however, he’s in his element when he’s with you. being in a long term relationship with you means that he can get to know more than the surface, he knows ever single curve of your figure and where his hands fit perfectly, and what things get your face to flush and your lips to part. you give the experience he needs, and it only gets better the longer you are together because you get to explore different things that he and you like.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

apart from missionary, where he gets to see your face and all it’s little micro expressions, your boobs that are always nice to look at too obviously. its the fully package really, all within reach of his greedy hands. it gets better when you put your leg on his shoulder and he was some leverage to grab on to, and to turn his head to press his lips against your skin. he also likes the face off position, a more intimate cowgirl where he feels most connected to you. the skin-to-skin contact, being able to press worn out kisses all over your face and wrap his arms around your shoulders to bring you even closer to him while you ride him. the real deal.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

it can vary, when you first started dating he would try to act more serious because he would be overthinking everything and trying to make sure it felt good for you. he also wanted to seem like a serious candidate for you. but the more times that you get intimate, because he is the most unserious person at heart, he can’t help but letting a laugh slip sometimes. like, you haven’t ever laughed at a queef before????? it’s funny. also just the feeling of being so happy and so intimate with you, literally the closest two people can get can be overwhelming, in a good way, which makes laughing feel like the only right thing to do.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

it would be weird if that happy trail of his led to nothing, but its cleaned up, he takes care of himself.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

so romantic, he thinks that literally every movement of yours is the most beautiful thing ever, so graceful and so pretty. he likes to see the way your hands sometimes grip around the bedsheets, and to encase your hand with his to spread his warmth. his lips struggle to leave your skin, whether it be your lips, your neck, your jawline or anywhere where he can feel the goosebumps that riddle your skin and the sweetness of your natural scent. the lights in your room are always dim and there’s always a playlist of rnb playing quietly during it. he is able to romanticise every little movement and every noise, being with you is an experience on a different plane of existence and he wants to savour every single moment of it. he prefers to go slowly, lots of talking and smiling and giggling.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

when he’s away, he seems like the type to let you know that he is jerking off. he only resorts to doing so when you aren’t around and the whole time he’d be thinking of you. you’d be alone in your bed in the dead of night, sleeping on his side of the bed to smell his presence and then receive a text message. it wouldn’t be explicit or anything, something like “thinking of you right now” and you’d just know exactly what he was doing. he would never ask you to send nudes, but when you’re in the right mood you would send him something to usher him on.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

honestly, he doesn’t seem like a very kinky person, but he’d be willing to try new things for you. when you ask him to try using his tie as a blindfold he would say yes, and he would enjoy watching you squirm and twitch under him when he ghost his fingers along your body. he liked to slap your ass prior, but seeing the surprise mixed with pleasure when your eyes were covered was even more enjoyable. on his birthday, when you asked to blindfold him and give him his birthday surprise he was hesitant, but he trusted you enough to let you do that to him. he enjoyed it, but he thinks it’s because it was your hands that were touching him and heightening his senses, letting him focus on sensations that he had never before. so as long as it was something that you wanted to do, he’s just happy to take part—although i think he would draw the line at things that hurt you seriously.

i see him liking the idea of public sex too, not too public obviously. but cars and rooms that are separated only by paper-thin walls excite him. being able to make you moan and having the headboard creak only to just walk out of the room and act like nothing happened is amusing to him.

breeding kink????? are you joking? of course. he is just waiting for the day that the two of you are fully ready for a child, and you give him the green light to go all in. until then, he likes to play with fate and do it rawwwwww.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

other than in your bed, his favourite place is the couch in your living room. the atmosphere of the tv that usually plays in the back, shining different colours on your face from the movie that was long forgotten about. the blinds are usually slightly ajar, reflecting your profiles in the window that he likes to take a quick glance at, and playing up to the fact that someone could see the two of you—a picture perfect snapshot that he would capture with this film camera if he could.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

domestic girlfriend. homey girlfriend…should i continue? i know a pile of laundry hates to see him coming because it’s never actually going to be done. ever since moving in with you, the sight of you doing things that are ordinary have riled him up like he has never been before. the curve of your back when he watches you cook from the island in the kitchen, the old shorts and tank top you wear when there are no clean clothes left on a sunday, the way that you flip your hair and expose your neck when you are vacuuming. they help him envision a future where it is just the two of you forever, with hopefully a few kids running around which excites him more than you know.

even just the lazy days when you have been lying around all the couch the whole time, in your pyjamas can get him excited, because your cami is tight and you don’t wear a bra, and the way you eat food is attractive, and the way you drink is too, and so is the way you throw your exposed thigh over his lap when you’re getting comfortable on the couch. at any given moment when he is given the time to look at you for too long, he can imagine himself being all over you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

extreme kinks, he wouldn’t want to hurt you in any way. even if you were to suggest trying new things that are a bit more extreme, it would take a lot of convincing because he wouldn’t want the two of you to try something and then regret it. he’s open-minded, but cautious.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he gets pussy drunk so baddddd, literally dripping from the chin and back onto you when he eats it. he could go on for hours because the way that you moan out his name quite literally sounds like music to his ears. so much so that the first time he gave you head he came in his pants without you evening touching him, just from the way you were reaching out for his hair from above him, and breathing out his name. he only confessed it to you a year into your relationship in which you were so flattered you gave head just the way he likes it, which is definitely just as messy as him. he wants you to use his cum as lipgloss, and when you guide his hand into your hair. he isn’t a massive head pusher, only when you let him do it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

always slow, he doesn’t see the point of getting intimate if he isn’t able to have the whole experience. he enjoys foreplay, and wants to give you all the attention he has by going through the steps and focusing on every bit of you. even if he’s mad or frustrated he would still go slow, because he doesn’t want to take his anger out on you. instead, he likes the way the slowness calms him down and brings him back to his senses. and make-up sex after arguments would be even slower as he feels he has to relearn the little things about your body and wants to relish in the things he could’ve lost but thankfully didn’t. the only times that he would be fast would be the mornings before a flight abroad, and even though you two would have had sex the night before he just needs to do it one more time before leaving so he can remember the sensation when he is away from you. it would be quick because he doesn’t want to be late for his flight, and also because if you were to take your time he just wouldn’t leave.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not a massive fan. again, he just wouldn’t see the point when he can take his time with you, there’s no rush. although there are times when you’re together in a group setting, like on a vacation with friends and the sight of you is just so unbearably gorgeous he can’t resist pulling you into the room you share in the airbnb. and then you come out no more than ten minutes later, which is just enough time before people start to realise you’re missing.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

not a massive experimenter, he likes to do what you like, to an extent.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he could on for hours, and sometimes he does. on the days that you look extra good, or have managed somehow to make him jealous even though he isn’t really a jealous person. but on a day to day basis 2-3 rounds is a happy medium, because he believes everything is better in moderation.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he would never buy a toy for himself or for you, but if you were to get gifted one from one of your friends as a joke, he would probably try it at least once.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

very subtly throughout the day, maybe very small gestures like his hand on the small of your back, or caressing your shoulders when you are talking to someone. if he were to tease you seriously, it would be more privately at home like if you were to have gotten some icing on your face from a cake you were eating, and he’d kiss it off you. he prefers to be teased rather than tease someone.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

not super loud. he’s for sure not screaming or anything, but he does let out some breathy moans and groans. he’s more verbal when he’s having sex, like whispering words of praise and your name constantly. i think he could also let out an occasional whimper when something just feels too good, and his deep voice would crack under your actions.

W = Wild card (a random headcannon for the character)

shower sex. he’s obsessed. ever since you let him step into one of your showers and you turned around and kissed him with the warm water pouring over your heads like it was some sort of romcom he was hooked. you’re naked anyway, why not just have sex? he likes pressing you up against the glass door of the shower, and then seeing water that water that has condensed everywhere but the shape of your body. he also likes the steaminess that makes his eyesight a little hazy. it’s all very romantic and intimate to him. plus, you don’t need to get up to shower after sex because you’re already in there. even when you have regular sex in your bed, sometimes when you get up to shower it continues in there because it is all just too tempting for him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

yeah. biiiiig.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

i don’t think he’s crazy by any means, he prefers simpler and more cute moments with you. don’t get me wrong though, he’s still definitely horny a lot. but he keeps it to himself most of the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

after a quick wash up he’s out like a light. snoring and everything. he’s worn out completely, there’s no chance for pillow talk when he’s already under the covers and pulling you into him to sleep.

#𐙚augustinawrites #nct 127 #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun nct #nct imagines #nct127 smut

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qwimblenorrisstan · 5 months ago

Text

To Be Known | Azriel x Reader

Summary: You’ve always been afraid to confess to Azriel about your feelings for him, but after a hookup gone wrong, everything begins falling apart, and he’s there to pick up the pieces.

Word Count: ~ 2.4k

Warnings: Drunk ppl, drunk fem reader, allusions to smut, std mentions, bloodwork (doctors), guy being an ahole + taking advantage of drunk reader, scars, angst to comfort

A/N: this request was so good (ty to anon!!), I feel like az always pairs really good with angst to comfort, anyways hope you enjoy<3 (also sorry for lack of posts recently I just had a math+science test back to back and have spent the past few days studying😭)

Requests are open!

Unlike the rest of your friend group, you weren’t special.

You weren’t a High Lord, Spymaster, General, High Lady, Seer, or any special title. You weren’t funny like Mor, witty like Amren, or even talented in much like all of your friends were.

But then again, like your mother had said, opposites always attract.

Maybe that was why had always had a small crush on the Spymaster who was withdrawn and secretive, the opposite of your friendly personality. You could befriend just about anyone, knowing their name, age, and at least a few background details on them in a few minutes, while Azriel was the exact opposite, getting his information on people through other ways.

With his job and his centuries of experience for two different High Lords, it was a wonder he didn’t already know about your crush on him. Maybe it was because, like everyone else, he was focused on the central characters in your friend group.

The three sisters and brothers. It was hard to overlook them, with all their achievements and accomplishments, not to mention the things they’d overcome and their pasts.

Tonight you were all out at Rita’s, Cassian telling awful jokes to Nesta as she rolled her eyes, playfully swatting him on the shoulder, Rhys and Feyre having a drinking competition, Azriel brooding somewhere in the corner, alone because of Elain visiting Autumn Court with Mor for “political purposes” even though everyone knew she wanted to see Lucien.

You were taking a sip of your drink, idly standing at the bar, elbows propped on the table as your eyes raked through the crowd, searching for someone who could offer a decent hookup. Drunk Fae stumbled about, laughing loudly with genuine joy that made your lips twitch up a bit, the music playing in the background also helping your mood as a cool breeze blew through the open area.

“Looking for someone?”

You choked on your drink, alcohol coming back up to sting your throat a second time before you swallowed it all backdown, one hand over your heart as you sighed in relief, looking at Azriel who’d somehow approached without you knowing.

“Mother above, Az, you scared the shit outta me.”

You replied, taking a few more breaths to calm down, turning to face him, back now against the bar table as the shadowsinger looked down at you, hair falling into his eyes in a boyish way that made you giggle as you tried to brush some behind his hair.

“Someone needs a haircut,”

You teased, and a hint of a smile graced his lips.

“I’ll make sure not to go to Mor this time.”

He said, grimacing for a moment at the memory of the awful haircut Mor had given him, insisting he needed it, only to butcher his beautiful dark locks. You could still remember how distraught he’d been after, looking like a puppy that had just been kicked.

“I could do it, my mom used to cut hair, taught me a thing or two,”

You offered with a little shrug, taking another sip of your drink, one you’d already refilled by now. Maybe twice. You couldn’t remember, all you knew was that the hangover in the morning would be brutal.

A chuckle from Azriel made you rub your thighs together as he shook his head in fond exasperation. He swallowed, almost nervously, odd for him, before speaking.

“Maybe next time, though I wouldn’t object if you-“

He was cut short by another male strolling up to you a tad bit too confidently, one arm going to the right of you on the bar table as his eyes met yours.

An old partner. Particularly a fuck-buddy.

The best solution for tonight, really, since Cauldron knows you weren’t bold enough to push anything with Azriel. He was a friend, nothing more, or at least you tried to convince yourself. He still hadn’t gotten over Elain, or you thought he hadn’t yet, and you didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship or making things awkward between the two of you because of your desires the the crush you’d kept secret for years.

Your fuck-buddy’s eyes met yours, and you swallowed, glancing at Azriel as he watched the silent interaction the two of you had before giving a terse nod and walking away. You would’ve noticed how his eyes narrowed, or how he looked stiff if you hadn’t taken a few too many sips between talking with those at Rita’s tonight.

“Want to take this back to my place?”

The male drawled, arm sliding around your waist as he began guiding you to the exit around the side, where people could discreetly leave. Neither of you was beating around the bush, and you rarely did anyway. You both just needed a release, or at least you did.

“Mm..sure.”

You murmured, body hot now, thinking about Azriel instead of the male leading you to his old home, wishing it was Azriel’s hands on you, wishing you knew what it felt like to know him more, deeper than just the tip of the iceberg you’d touched.

Weeks had passed since that night, you’d woken up cold and alone in the male’s bed, gotten up, and collected your clothes before walking your ass back to the townhouse while your head had felt like someone split it open.

You had vowed not to go drinking for a while now.

And things had gotten weird between you and Azriel Joe, too. He was avoiding you, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, you could tell.

When he heard your footsteps, he left the room almost immediately, hell, even his shadows were avoiding you, not following you like loyal dogs per usual, just one or two to make sure you were safe at all times like he did for every member of the Inner Circle. His jaw was clenched every time he was in a room with you, and he wouldn’t look you in the eye, maybe couldn’t.

You barely remembered what had happened that night other than a few blurry memories of conversations and whatnot; so you didn’t know if you’d said something stupid and messed it up, or he thought you were a whore for going out with that other male and leaving him all alone.

The more you thought about it, the more you thought the latter was more likely.

It didn’t help that just a few days later, amidst all your worries, you’d decided to take a little walk through Velaris to get some outside time and a serotonin boost, only for the exact opposite to happen when you were met with your previous fuck-buddy from that night weeks ago screaming in your face, yanking you down a small alleyway to properly yell at you.

“Nasty bitch, gave me a disease! If you’re going to be a whore, at least keep your fucking viruses to yourself-!”

Horror shot through you at his words. You didn’t have any sort of STD, not that you knew of at least, and if you’d spread the theoretical disease to him…He might be an asshole, but no one deserves that.

Unsure what to do as tears welled in your eyes and fell, you began trying to ignore him as you turned and dashed out of the alleyway, the loose clothing you were wearing helping you to slightly outpace him through the streets, avoiding the children and Fae on them, not to mention the vendors and toys strewn about.

He pursued you, screaming still, and hot tears of embarrassment pouring down your cheeks as you began to sob, you didn’t even realize you’d outrun him until you were already at the steps to the House of Wind, ascending them, not even bothering to count out the 10,000 steps in your head.

Somehow, through either pure anger or sadness, you reached the top right when your knees gave out, only for Nesta to catch you right before you fell, dressed in her training leathers, weapons strapped to her. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion and already-building anger as she saw you crying your eyes out.

“What’s wrong?”

She demanded, shifting to hold you up fully, carrying you bridal style as she started walking into the House, snapping her fingers once she got inside, and the House listened to her as always, making a warm cup of tea in your favorite flavor, and a comfort meal she knew you loved as she slowly sat you down at the table. The House must’ve deemed it necessary when it added a cushion beneath your butt on the chair, considering your aching legs.

You tried to blubber out an answer amidst the tears, but couldn’t manage to, and her eyes softened as she sighed, sitting down next to you on your right, before seeing that she wasn’t making much progress, and getting back up.

“Eat, we can talk about this later, I’ll go get him.”

You were about to ask who she was going to get, even though a part of you already knew as you saw her walking off in the direction of his room. You began slowly digging into the food, finding yourself to be much hungrier than earlier anticipated. Then again, you’d skipped out on breakfast, expecting to get a big lunch while out and about in Velaris.

Azriel arrived only a moment later, shadows swirling, concern evident on his face as Nesta gave him a stern look and pointed to you before she mouthed “You’re welcome.” to you, and strolled out of the door.

“What happened?”

He asked, smooth voice soaked in worry as he quickly pulled out the same chair Nesta had just been sitting in, sitting in it as it groaned under his weight. One of his wings stretched out in your direction, just barely curling around you.

You swallowed a bite of your food, tears coming back up.

“It’s embarrassing.”

You managed to croak out, and he shook his head.

“I won’t make fun of you, I promise.”

He pledged, and you trusted that promise as you sniffled again, wiping the wetness from your eyes with one hand.

“Me and that male from Rita’s, we slept together, and he just accused me of…of giving him an STD.”

You said, before breaking into sobs again, hands going to cover your face despite the warmth that burned in your cheeks from the shame of being in this situation. His large palm gently brushed over your back as he scooted closer, raising an eyebrow at the cushion in your seat for half a second before his wing curled fully around you; and he pulled you into a surprisingly warm hug.

“I’m sorry.”

He murmured, and your sobs slowly subsided until you had no tears left to cry, but you still held onto him in the hug, hands fisting the back of his shirt, the cloth bunching up beneath your fingers.

“What if I do, though? Have a..virus?”

He gave a little hum of thought.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, do you want to go get tested?”

You gave a sad little nod, a small pout on your lips that made him want to rip apart the male that made you feel this way. He gently picked you up, careful with your sore legs, figuring out what had happened rather quickly after some of his shadows informed him what they’d seen. They also quickly informed him on the full story, and what that male had done. Another job for another day, but he would make sure he paid for it.

Nearly two hours later, you’d had to pee in a cup for Madja to check, and now were getting blood taken to get that tested as well, as well as any other necessary bodily fluids. Symptoms were noted if there were any. It was uncomfortable at best, but Azriel held your hand the entire time, not even wincing when you squeezed his hand a bit too hard for all the scars covering it.

He quickly winnowed the both of you to the House of Wind afterward, having been told the results would take at least a day to get back. He winnowed the both of you straight into his room.

It was dark, curtains drawn and everything, with the barest essentials in it as well as a desk for work, a few maps hanging from the walls, and assortments of fancy knives you knew he must’ve collected over the centuries.

You turned to leave, but his hand grasping your wrist quickly made you turn, tilting your head sideways in mild confusion.

“Stay.”

He begged, looking terrified of what you might say, but also hopeful. You sniffled again, nodding and tentatively following him as he gently led you over to the bed, each move like a new dance, one that neither of you had practiced before, but were willing to try.

He slowly stripped his leathers off, letting you see his scarred body and wings for what it truly was. And for once, the sight of his bare body, while very attractive, didn’t just make you horny or craving him. It made you appreciate him, who he was at his core. The years he’d spent training and honing his body to protect his Court, the scars he’d suffered protecting his loved ones and serving them; even willing to take it to the end.

You appreciated him. Even in the bad lighting of the room, or the thick shadows swirling everywhere, you appreciated Azriel.

And so, in turn, you began slowly tugging your clothes off, leaving only your undergarments on. His eyes ran over you, respectfully as always, but taking in your vulnerability; who you were beneath the covers, before he gave a small nod.

He walked over to his dresser, pulled out one of his more casual shirts; one that was clean that he hadn’t worn in a good while, and walked over to you, standing in front of you as he helped gently tug the opening over your head, guiding your hands to the arm holes, adjusting it for you.

No words were exchanged, and none needed to be, not ad you both crawled into his bed under the blankets, and he enveloped you in an embrace; wings and arms wrapped around you with his head tucked into your neck.

And tonight, you knew for sure that you wouldn’t wake up cold and alone like that night so many weeks ago.

No, tonight, you didn’t need the warmth of passion or lust to keep you from the biting cold, now you had Azriel by your side, and that was more than enough.

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wooziorgans · 5 months ago

Note

hey s2 soooo i was thinking about something and i know that you are the one to do this

woozi hasn't had the opportunity to eat you out yet, you've already done a lot but as you never mentioned it he thought you didn't want to or weren't comfortable yet, so one day when you're making out and he's starting to get horny he whispers "sit on my face" and now its up to you

k byeeee

— face sitting

good god. why do you always,,,,, do this. i love ur brain but also why god why me. also sorry this took me so long,,,, we r not gonna talk abt it.

you’ve been with jihoon for a few months, and in those few months, you’ve learned more about him than you did in the years of friendship. you know that he likes to eat, and he eats well, given the pure amount of muscle on him. you know that, while he says he’s not big on skin-ship, it’s a lie. one look from you, and he’s opening his arms to cuddle.

you know he loves his friends with his entire heart, and is willing to give them as much as he can in terms of support. you know he likes to go for walks late at night when he can’t sleep, or when he wants to simply enjoy some time outside with his thoughts.

what you’ve learned has been on the complete opposite of the spectrum. you know that jihoon likes to give, but this also extends to the bedroom. he’ll spend hours working you up, teasing you and then fucking you with his fingers before finally sinking his cock into you. he has this super human ability to make you cum, and he uses it to his advantage.

you’ve learned he likes getting head, but he’d much rather fuck you. you’ve learned that he’s a sensual kisser; he lets it linger before giving you anything solid to build off of. he makes you chase his lips, teasing you endlessly when you have the time.

you’ve also learned that his frustration with his job manifests itself sexually. he’ll perfectly service dom you through multiple orgasms as a way to relieve his stress. sometimes he’ll just pull you onto his lap and kiss you stupid until you’re grinding against his thigh, desperate for something more.

you love giving him head though, but he seems to be completely indifferent towards doing the same to you. it’s a little confusing, considering how much he seems to use his tongue in other ways with you. you know he’s skilled with his mouth, that much is evident from the way he kisses and sings.

today is just one of those days where jihoon wasn’t able to burn off enough steam at the gym. he’s frustrated over a moved deadline the company gave him, now having to work twice as hard to get things done. you finished work early, and jihoon invited you over to hang out.

you can tell from the lines on his face that you’ll be doing more than just ‘hanging out’, but it’s not like you mind. jihoon pulls you into his bed, the television in his room on. you’re cushioned in between his thick thighs, wrapped safely in his arms when he starts peppering soft kisses to your neck.

it makes you shiver, hands grabbing at his arms before you decide to rotate to straddle his thighs. jihoon rests his hands on your hips, pulling you close and in for a kiss. you return it eagerly, hands finding the sides of his face.

jihoon’s hands start wandering, pushing their way under your hoodie to graze the skin of your back. his tongue slips its way into your mouth, and you moan softly. this seems to do something to jihoon, and his hand slips down to grope your ass.

you make out for god knows how long, hips moving against each others as you kiss. jihoon seems to just drink in all of the small sounds you make, hands moving around to grab and squeeze whatever he can reach.

it all comes to fruition when you stop being able to kiss him, whining into his mouth as you grind on his thigh. “fuck, sit on my face.” jihoon whispers, pulling away for a second to just watch you take what you need from him. you stop immediately, pulling back further to look at him.

“sorry, what did you say?” you blink a few times at him, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“if you don’t want to, that’s okay. you’ve never really given me anything that suggested you’d be into that.” he back tracks immediately, face reddening as he realizes he said that out loud.

“no, repeat yourself. what did you say?” your hand brushes the side of his neck and he shivers, knowing he can’t get out of this.

“um, sit on my face?” it’s a question this time. his hesitancy makes you laugh softly as you brush his hair out of his face.

“god, jihoon,” you sigh softly, already dripping at the idea of him being tongue deep inside of you. “you’re sure?” you ask, fingers threading in his hair. he hums softly.

“yeah, fuck. wanna eat you out so bad, baby.” he coos, almost condescending as his hands grab at your sweatpants. you let him pull them down, underwear going with them. you shift off his lap to kick them off and jihoon takes the opportunity to slide down the bed so he’s lying down.

with your bottom half now exposed, you straddle his lap again, arousal seeping into his own sweats. he’s painfully hard in his sweats, cock straining against the fabric. he hisses when you sink down before his hands find you ass again.

he pulls you up, and you wiggle your way up the bed until you’re over his chest. “how do you want me?” you ask, unsure of if he wants you to face him or turn the other way.

“just like this is fine.” jihoon hums, pulling you closer to his face. he starts to tease your folds with two fingers, gathering your arousal with his fingers before he pushes them inside. you’re already wet enough for them to just slide in.

you moan at the intrusion, his other hand firm on your hips to keep you from moving. jihoon fucks them in and out of you slowly, watching the way you suck his digits in. he pulls them out after a few seconds, using both hands to pull you down onto his face.

jihoon sticks his tongue out, licking a long stripe over your folds. you react immediately at the warmth and wetness of his tongue, shivering as you let out a low moan. jihoon does it again, tongue gathering your arousal to pull it into his mouth. he moans softly, already completely in love with the way you taste.

jihoon’s nose brushes against your clit, and you jerk harshly, hands finding their spot in his hair. you smooth it out, moving it out of the way. he licks another stripe up your fold, this time stiffening his tongue to go deeper. his lips latch around your clit, suctioning to it and flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

jihoon focuses his attention on your clit, alternating different kinds of suction and patterns with his tongue to figure out what works. he brings his hand back up to your ass, kneading the skin softly before he pushes two fingers back inside of you.

it’s too much, all at once. the small noises he makes as he eats you out, the lewd, wet noises coming from his mouth, and his fingers pressing into your spot send you over the edge. you tighten your grip in his hair, head leaning against the headboard as you gasp out a warning.

jihoon keeps his pace steady on your clit as you cum, before he pulls his fingers out and laps at your release. it drips down his chin, but he can’t stop, even after you start to squirm in overstimulation.

you lift your hips up off his face before shifting to lay down beside him. jihoon pulls you into a kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. you whine into his mouth, hands grabbing at his cock through the fabric of his sweats.

jihoon pulls away, “give yourself a minute to breathe, love.” he coos. you nod, pushing your head against his chest. he strokes your hair softly, massaging your scalp. your hands still push their way under his sweats and into his boxers.

jihoon hisses softly. “you’re insatiable.” he moans, a breathy laugh falling from his lips.

“you started it.” you murmur, craning your head up to kiss his neck. maybe he did. either way, it’s gonna be a long night. especially with what you’ve just learned about your boyfriend.

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earlysunshines · 6 months ago

Text

it's (always) you

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff, angst

synopsis: everyone has a set date and time tattooed onto them indicating their date of death. it’s your time soon, so you move out away from the city and end up in a small town and meet a very special girl.

warnings: slowburn, pining, angst ; mentions of death ; making out! making out w mo dani… ; reader has trauma (parents dead or wtv) ; anything else not mentioned ; literally not proofread it’s joever…

a/n: hi mo dani enjoyers i hope u all enjoy i lowk (highk) put a lot of effort into this embrassingly enough so um Yeah pls lmk how u like it ^_^

everyone has a predetermined time and date for their death. whether it’s a natural end or something peculiar, there’s no avoiding it.

this inevitability applies to everyone. no one can escape this fate—not your friends, parents, and not you. there are no exceptions, no miracles; no one can escape death unless they’re something more than a human.

as far as you know, you’re very much mortal. there’s a mark on your upper rib that has the date of your destined death in dark ink.

one thing you can escape is your misery, you're not going to spend the last few months of your life cooped up in a cramped, single bedroom apartment. the time you have left is short, so you might as well make the most of it.

before your parents passed two years ago, they entrusted you with a key to a safe, urging you to open it when the time felt right. they died on the same day, figured that going for a swim on their beach trip with you would be a wonderful idea, espeically on their death day. they often joked that they were soulmates, destined to be together. this belief was cemented not only by the matching date tattoos they had, but also by their coincidental placements—your father's mark below his left ear and your mother's below her right. their love and fate were intertwined in a way that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

you wonder if there’s some other universe where you’re all still together, you often wonder about that.

the safe they had given you is in the depths of your storage closet, you had shoved it there when you first moved in and haven’t touched it since – not until now.

it’s placed on your coffee table, you’re sitting on the floor and staring at the key biting the inside of your lip. when the time is right. the words ring in your head and you think, is this it? how do you know?

you don’t have time to wonder if this is the right time, either way, the safe will have to be opened sooner or later. you have exactly seven months, you can’t risk it. besides, you’ve already decided that you’re selling everything you own in your small, claustrophobic apartment and leaving for good – at least until it’s your time.

you push the key into the slot, turning it to the right and hearing two clicks before the door unlocks. you move your hand over to the little door handle and hesitate for a moment, swallowing shallowly before you open.

inside, there’s a small shoebox, a little book, and a debit card being held to a note with an old rubber band. it’s a little dusty inside, making you cough when you pull out each item and examine them all closely.

the shoebox is the first thing you reach for. brushing off the dust, you notice the little adidas logo before carefully opening it. your hand flies to your mouth in shock at what you see inside. it’s filled with cash—stacks of bills neatly arranged. you estimate there’s enough to cover your rent for three or four months at least. you can't believe your eyes, staring at the sight longer to ensure it isn’t a dream.

grabbing a stack, you measure its thickness against your finger, finding it to be about half its length. as you flip through, you discover each bill is a twenty. from the color and what you can glimpse in the rest of the box, you notice some stacks start with fifties, more twenties, and you’re almost certain there’s one topped with a hundred. the sheer amount leaves you awestruck, the reality of it sinking in as you carefully examine each stack.

the next item is the little book, you open it to find things worth more than all of the money in the shoe box.

there are pictures of you as a child, of your parents before you were born, and of the three of you together. as you flip through each page, the photos become more recent. by the time you reach the end, you realize it’s a chronological timeline capturing every moment they could. each image, a fragment of your shared history, leaves you feeling both nostalgic and overwhelmed. a tear slides down your cheek and you don’t even realize it.

the last item is the debit card, you look at it, grazing the material and looking at the slight dust on your fingers after.

you open the letter, looking closely and reading what’s written:

debit card value: 15000.

y/n, we miss you as much as you do, really.

we hope this finds you well, and that you have time left.

do what you will with the money, and don’t spend too much time sulking looking at the pictures.

be happy and don’t miss out on anything. make friends, experience more, meet people, maybe even find your own little soulmate. ha.

we love you always, don’t forget it. spend your time wisely, and live life to the fullest – don’t waste out on anything!

– lots of love, always, mom and dad.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. the ache in your chest is bittersweet, but mainly bitter.

when you finish reading, a few drops of water stain the paper in your hand—tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. now you find yourself sniffling, holding this piece of love from your parents.

you pinch your eyes shut, wiping away the tears, but the crying only intensifies. it’s overwhelming – all of it. the countless hours spent staring at the ceiling, missing the two people who raised you, trying to hold yourself together until you had time to grieve. and now, holding this letter, it feels like a fresh wound.

–

you have no clue where you’re headed.

it took you two hours to stop crying and finally pull out your laptop. before opening the safe, your plan was to find an escape from the city. through squinted eyes, sniffles, and a pile of tissues, you managed to load the website for train and bus tickets. there were various options; one of them was to take a plane to somewhere completely foreign and figure things out there. however, the price was steep, and despite everything, you realized you still had a fondness for your area; a piece of your parents was practically anywhere if you stayed, and you can’t imagine leaving.

so now you’re on a train staring out the window as it departs, watching the buildings in the distance fade into trees and natural sights.

you bought the train and bus tickets because they were cheap and led to the water, ironically enough considering how your parents died. you always loved the beach, and your parents did too, maybe the beach loved them too much. besides the worst incident on the beach, many happy memories often had the beach lingering close, and it had always been a little dream of yours to just laze around someplace nearby it. after the chaos of the city that had surrounded you most of your life, you craved something quiet, mundane, and rural. a serene escape to the beach seemed like the perfect place for your final moments.

besides, you might as well follow in your parents’ footsteps.

you had fallen asleep on the train, exhausted from the emotional whirlwind. a gentle tap on your shoulder stirred you awake, and you slowly opened your eyes to see an elderly lady gazing at you with concern.

her kind eyes and soft expression immediately made you feel a bit more at ease. “are you okay?” she asks, voice slightly raspy.

“h-huh? hi, sorry, yeah.”

“you’re not dying today, are you?” she questions worriedly, but looks pretty unbothered despite her inquiry. “at least you didn’t pass sleeping on the train.”

“no, no.” you blink hard, waving your hand in the air as you dismiss her and simultaneously wake up from your four-hour nap. “i have um– a while before that.”

“good, good.” she says, then waves at you. “better get off quick honey, you wouldn’t want to miss your bus, would you? wherever you’re headed…”

“ah, no.”

“the busses in this area take longer since it’s not the city, you better hurry!”

“right, yes. thank you miss.” you nod at her, getting up and putting on your backpack, then grabbing your suitcase. you walk down the aisle, following behind her and getting off.

you check your ticket crumpled up in your pocket, looking at it closely and looking around for the stations. you pass by a small cafe and convenience store as you rush down the corridor, desperately looking for the sign that shows bus ‘11.’

ten minutes pass, your eyes finally find the sign, and five people are getting on to the bus as you catch sight of it. you run as fast as you can, picking up your suitcase during your rush and manage to get to the bus just as the doors had closed.

you knock on the windows of the doors, the bus driver looks at you, raising his brows and sighing as he presses a button. in no time, the doors fold inwards and you hop on, breathless.

“thank you so much,” you say in between breaths, “i’m sorry.”

he nods, then looks at you expectedly, holding his hand out. “ticket?”

“oh, yes.” you open your fist, giving him the slightly crumpled paper you had in your hand as you ran towards the vehicle. you look at him apologetically, muttering a small, “sorry.”

the bus driver tilts his head, motioning for you to just get on and find a seat. coincidentally, you make eye contact with the lady from before, sighing in relief and sitting next to her after seeing her pat down the empty space.

“i suppose we’re headed the same way.”

“yeah, what a coincidence.” you breath out, smiling at her. you haven’t smiled in a while, it feels good to do it, and it feels even better when she pats your shoulder and smiles back.

–

an hour later, the bus comes to a stop, and the old lady taps on your knee while you’re ten seconds away from falling asleep.

“this is where i get off dear.”

“ah, um–” you still have no idea where you’re going – the only think you know is that this bus allegedly leads to the beach, somewhere close at least. something about the lady and seeing her again urges you to follow her, it just feels right. maybe she’ll lead you where you need to go. “--this is my stop too.”

“ah, i see.”

“do you need help with your bags?”

“i’m quite alright dear, thank you.” she says, grabbing her big purse and scooting out after you had done so.

you follow her out the bus, then admire the scenery around you.

it’s three in the afternoon and the sun is shining all over, warming your face up. you’re in a small town, there’s the same shops and whatnot that you’d find in the city, but it’s smaller, much more home like, and in the distance you can see bright trees, bushes, and a small trail leading out. your mouth is agape just slightly as you observe and admire; it’s beautiful wherever you are.

“beautiful, right?” the lady is still there, you hadn’t noticed. “your first time here?”

“yeah.” you mumble, turning back to look down at her.

she smiles warmly and asks, “are you hungry?” you pause, opening your mouth to respond, but no words come out. sensing your hesitation, she smiles again, brushing it off. “you must be tired too. come, i’ll cook you something.”

before you can answer, she’s already heading off, dragging her suitcase in a different direction. with nothing else to do and no plan – you follow her.

as you walk, you pass various buildings, from quaint shops and cozy cafes to cute bookstores and a post office where elderly men play chess out front. the sight makes you smile without realizing it, a sense of comfort and fondness settling over you for this new place you've found.

it’ll be alright. you think, looking down at the back of your phonecase to see a small picture of you and your parents through the clear material.

–

she leads you to a restaurant down the road, it takes less than ten minutes to get there and only one turn after walking down the same sidewalk.

there are two small wooden tables outside, each with two matching chairs. behind the seating area, a large glass window offers a clear view inside. the window, though slightly worn, proudly displays a sign that reads "lee’s kitchen." through the glass, you can see more seating inside and a front desk.

everything about this place exudes comfort, from the trees, vines, and bushes that surround it to the cat sleeping peacefully beside a flower pot. the greenery wraps around the building and is highlighted by the sun’s glow, adding to its charm. the calico cat, nestled in a cozy spot, seems to embody the tranquility of the area. you love it already.

she leads you in, a bell ringing when the door opens.

she points over to a small table by the wall, gesturing you to settle down and relax for the time being.

“you can place your luggage on the other chair, there won’t be anyone here today.”

“right, thank you.”

“mhm.” she checks the clock on the wall, then smiles. “my granddaughter might barge in, let her know im cooking in the back, alright?”

“yeah, of course. thank you again.”

“it’s no problem…”

“y/n.” you respond. “my name is y/n.”

“lovely name. you can call me mrs. lee. settle down alright?”

“thank you.”

“it’s nothing.” she says, then disappears behind the counter and past the door to the back.

you walk over to the table she had pointed to, setting your bag next to you and leaving your suitcase nearby. you sigh, closing your eyes and then opening them again to look around. near the counter there’s a photo framed of ms. lee, an elderly man, and a younger girl who looks around six years old. looking at the frame you smile. the photo looks a little old, similar to the photos your parents had left you.

you take in the whole area, illuminated by warm lightbulbs that cast a cozy glow. the tables and chairs, though a bit older, feel comfortable and inviting. the ground is covered in faded dark gray marble tiles, and the seating areas are made of sturdy wood. plants are scattered around, adding touches of greenery. in one corner, there’s a tv that’s turned off. you’re not used to older places; everything in the city was either renovated or styled to look vintage. but this place is different—you can tell it’s genuinely aged with love and care, its authenticity warms your heart.

the bell above the door jingles, you turn your head to see who’s stepped in.

“grandma? are you back? who unlocked the door…” she mumbles the last part to herself, then furrows her brows and clutches her backpack strap when she sees you. “who are you?”

“oh, hi. um, your grandma is in the back, she led me here…”

“huh.” she hums, then shrugs. “i will be back, stranger.”

“um, okay?”

the girl walks past the counter and towards the other door, you assume this area is just the restaurant and their home is inside it. a few moments later, the girl comes back and sits in front of you. she’s changed out of the school uniform she had been wearing earlier and is now wearing an old t-shirt and linen shorts.

she looks at you, narrowing her eyes. “you’re not from here.” she states bluntly.

“i’m not.” you respond, looking back curiously. “you’ve got a good eye.”

“most people from here don’t have more than three piercings on their ear, neither do they have many tattoos.” she points out, her eyes filled with wonder are drawn to the faint flower on your upper forearm with a date printed on it. she tilts her head, widens her eyes a little, then says, “the date on your arm has already passed.”

“it’s my parents’ time, not mine.”

“oh, i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright.” you assure. “i’m from the city.”

“ah.” she clicks her tongue. “that’s cool.”

“is it?”

“i’ve heard lots about it, i’ve been once when i was young. it was cool.”

“kinda.” you smile at her, then rub on the ink tattooed on your arm. “did you grow up here?”

she hums. “born and raised!”

you can’t help but giggle at her energy and curiosity.

the girl looks about sixteen, quite young. she has a smile on her face now, quickly eager to converse and mingle with the random woman in her… home? restaurant? you’re not sure, but you figure you’ll find out.

“right, that’s lovely. is this restaurant yours?”

“my grandma’s.”

“ah, i see. i like it, it’s nicer than all of the ones in the city.”

“really?” she asks, then smiles wider. “my grandma’s restaurant is the best here.”

“is that so?” you respond cheekily, entertained by her statement.

before she can respond, her eyes redirect behind you and she lights up completely. she gets up, rushing over and you turn to see her hugging mrs. lee.

“you’re back! i didn’t think you’d be back so early grandma.”

“well, i’m here. did you eat enough at school? have some bibimbap. i’m worried you haven’t been eating well these days hyein.”

“i’m fine grandma, haerin shared with me.”

“kang’s daughter?”

“yes!” the girl beams – hyein.

mrs. lee walks over to your table and gently places two bowls in front of you. hyein sits back down across from you, eyeing the food hungrily. you look down at the bowl filled with spinach, carrots, beef, string beans, mushrooms, rice, and a sunny side up egg on top. the sauce poured over it makes the dish look even more mouthwatering. you glance up and catch hyein's gaze, which makes you smile.

her grandmother, mrs. lee, affectionately rubs hyein's shoulder, then yours. you look up in surprise, touched by the simple gesture of kindness. “eat up you two.” she says.

“thank you mrs. lee.” you respond sincerely, then mix up everything in your bowl. the older woman walks away, disappearing behind the counter again.

you take a bite of the food, sighing as you chew and it looks like you’re melting. it’s wonderful.

“told you it’s the best.” hyein shrugs, then takes a bite herself. “i missed this.”

the two of you eat in silence for a bit, it’s nice. you’re eating lunch with the granddaughter of some lady you had met miraculously, and it’s really making you happier than you’ve been the past few months.

hyein finishes her bite, swallowing and then asking, “so, what’s your name? how did you get here? are you travelling or something?”

she throws a lot of questions at you, you finish your bite before responding, “well, my name is y/n. i took the train and bus here, i don’t really have a plan. i think i’ll stay here as long as i can, it seems right.”

“really? you’re going to be the talk of the town then.”

“am i?”

“yeah, you’re new. everyone here knows everyone, but it’s not a bad thing that you’re new. everyone here is very nice.”

“that’s good.” you mumble, then take another bite.

“where are you staying?”

“probably a hotel nearby, i guess.”

“you’re going to stay in a hotel nearby the whole time?”

“until i can find a place to stay for a bit, not too long.”

“how long?”

you dig at your food, poking your spoon at a mushroom in your bowl. hyein continues to eye you, looking at you deeply and waiting for an answer. you take another bite, then look to the side toward the framed photo hung on the wall.

“until my time is up.”

hyein pauses, looking at the side of your face until you turn back to meet her eyes. her lips part, she doesn’t speak for a bit. you continue, “i have a while though. i’m just… trying to make it through until i can’t.”

“ah. i’m sorry.”

“it’s nothing to be sorry about hyein, it’s natural.”

“right.” she says quietly, then takes another bite of her food. “danielle’s time is up soon too i think.”

“danielle?” you question.

“this girl in town, probably your age. she’s really nice and wonderful, you wouldn’t even know that she’d be dying–” she clears her throat before rewording, “-- that her time is soon. she’s like… a ball of sunshine. you’ll probably run into her.”

“ah.”

“you say that a lot.”

“well what else am i supposed to say?”

“i don’t know.” hyein shrugs, then laughs. “it’s funny.”

you stick your tongue out at her before the two of you start to finish your food again.

–

mrs. lee insists on letting hyein help you find a place to stay because she apparently is out all the time and knows almost every nook and cranny of the town.

the closest (and only) hotel in the town is nearby where the bus had stopped. it’s small and seems to be a little on the older side. hyein leads you in, immediately getting greeted by an older man who smiles at her fondly.

“if it isn’t ms. lee hyein.” he grins, then looks at you. “ah, you’ve brought a friend?”

“this is y/n. she’s looking for a place to stay for a bit.”

he looks you up and down, eyes lingering on your tattoo. then he smiles, he has a lovely one. the man has visible wrinkles and dark gray hair, he wears a button up shirt that’s loose on him and chino pants held by a brown leather belt.

“well, that i can help you with ms. y/n.”

“thank you sir.”

“no need for formalities.” he waves his hand, “i know a wonderful single bed room for you.”

“thank you.”

he leads you towards the stairs, there’s no elevator in this hotel. it seems much more like a big home rather than a hotel, at least compared to the city. he leads you to the second floor of the building, then down the hall and to the room right at the end. hyein follows the whole way.

he fishes a key from his pocket and unlocks the door, holding it open for you to roll your suitcase in. you marvel at the sight before you: a well-made queen bed, the perfect amount of space, and curtains drawn back to reveal a distant beach. the azure water glimmers, mesmerizing you. it looks like a pleasant bike ride or a short drive to get there. the room feels inviting, a sanctuary with a breathtaking view.

“woah.” hyein says, looking out with you.

“it’s beautiful – the beach and the room sir.”

he laughs, then smiles proudly. “im glad you’re fond of it. will you be staying?”

“yes, yeah.” you respond immediately. “it’s amazing.”

it’s more than that, you wish you could live here. waking up in the city gave you the same view of the building next to you, which was boring and nothing compared to the top of the apartments with rent that costed more than a third of your previous paycheck.

–

you spend time settling into the hotel, but not too much. you’re still looking around for a place to stay, the houses aren’t too bad, but you won’t be here long enough for it to be worth buying.

the apartments aren’t too bad either, but they’re small and cluttered. you’re a bit lost on what you should do, so you spend time exploring the time while you reconsider everything.

additionally, you’ve been over at mrs. lee’s to just lounge and clear your mind. it’s nice sitting by the counter watching the regulars come in and mingle.

hyein – the sixteen year old girl, basically a child – is your first and only friend at the moment. after school (for her), around three hours past noon, you spend time eating lunch with hyein, talking to her about your current situation and asking her for advice since it’s her hometown.

you explain that the prices are pretty scary, but not too bad, and hyein dismisses your suggestions.

“those neighborhoods are not as nice as mine, try this area.”

“are there any good places?”

“apartment down the road, but i don’t know… the owner is kind of sketchy.”

“what do i do then.” you sigh, taking a bite out of your cold noodles. “the hotel is pretty and all, but it’s not cheap at all. plus, i don’t think the money i have can keep me going.”

“hmm… i’ll have to ask my grandma.”

you sigh, poking at your noodles again. you hear the bell over the restaurant door jingle, both you and hyein turn your heads to see who’s arrived – just out of curiosity.

hyein's face lights up with surprise and joy as she sees the woman who has just walked in. she jumps out of her seat and rushes to hug her, wrapping her arms tightly around her. the woman smiles with her eyes closed, hugging hyein just as tightly. hyein whispers something you can’t hear, then looks at you and excitedly tugs the woman over to your table.

they reach where you’re sitting and that’s when you notice just how striking the woman is.

your ears twitch and you straighten your posture. the woman has a few moles on the right side of her face, pretty eyes with noticeably long eyelashes, and is smiling at you sweetly. she tucks a strand of hair that isn’t tied up, then greets you, “hi.” her voice is higher than yours, soft, and bright.

“this is danielle, i think i mentioned her.”

danielle. she’s the girl hyein was talking about, she also had little time.

“you have pretty eyes.” danielle catches you off guard with the sudden compliment, you feel your cheeks warm up just a bit. “it’s nice to meet you…?”

you cough. “y/n. it’s y/n.”

“cute name! how do you like the town?”

“oh, it’s lovely.”

“it really is. have you been to the beach yet?”

“i haven’t gotten the time.”

“that’s a shame, you should visit soon when you have the chance.” she says, then turns to hyein and hugs her again. “well, i have to get going. i just wanted to stop by and say hi!”

“do you really have to?” hyein whines.

“i have to help out at the shelter, sorry hyeinie.”

“aw.” hyein pouts. “i’ll see you later then.”

“oh for sure, i was planning on having dinner here with my family sometime this week.”

you watch hyein smile brightly and grab danielle’s hand, leading her back to the entrance, leaving you alone. you continue to gaze after them, admiring danielle’s side profile and grinning to yourself. something about her, just upon seeing her, feels inexplicably right.

as soon as danielle entered your field of vision, something clicked inside you. it’s like a dream, a sense of déjà vu that you can’t quite place. the feeling is both familiar and surreal, as if you’ve known her forever and yet are seeing her for the first time. plus, your body tingles, you feel yourself relaxing and tensing up at the same time, it’s odd; you don’t even know her.

you linger in that moment, captivated by the strange yet comforting sensation that her presence brings.

–

a day later you’re back at mrs. lee’s restaurant, hyein has led you to the back where the kitchen is, then leaves you alone with her grandma.

mrs. lee stands there cutting up some carrots, then says, “i heard you’re looking for a place to stay?”

“yes.”

“have you had any luck?”

“um,” you haven’t had any luck, because each place either had a sketchy landlord (according to hyein) or just didn’t sit right with you price wise and really just with the overall atmosphere. you shake your head. “no, not yet.”

“y/n,” she starts, pausing and setting her knife down. mrs. lee looks at you with an intense gaze, making you feel small despite her being nearly a head shorter than you, and even shorter than hyein. “would you like to stay here?” she asks, her eyes searching yours for an answer.

you freeze, looking at her with disbelief. “w-what? are you serious?”

“we have space for you.”

“i– i couldn’t, i don’t want to be a burden.”

“you could always help out at the restaurant. maybe even help out hyein with her studies or anything like that.”

“really?”

“yes dear. hyein suggested it, she’s really fond of you.”

you continue to gaze at her, stunned by the offer. you wonder if it’s truly okay to live with them, having known them for less than two weeks. it might be a hassle for them to accommodate you. yet, hyein has been keeping you at the restaurant, sharing stories about her day and clearly enjoying your company. her happiness is reassuring; she’s a good friend.

the offer is incredibly generous—a place to live in exchange for some help. it’s a fair trade, and with the money you have, you could contribute in the best way possible.

mrs. lee still stares at you, waiting for an answer.

you nod. “i’ll take it, thank you so much. i promise i’ll do anything i can to help and not be a burden.”

she laughs softly, then gestures towards the carrots on the cutting board. “have you ever cooked?” she asks.

“um, yes. my dad used to work at a restaurant.”

“perfect. could you chop these into thin slices? do you know how to jullienne them?”

“y-yeah, of course. let me wash my hands.”

she claps her hands together, looking at you proudly. “and you even know the hygiene policies.”

you smile at her, laughing as you turn on the sink and then excusing yourself when you accidentally splash water on an employees apron. mrs. lee looks at you fondly. she watches you cut the carrots with precision and decent speed, nodding with approval.

–

the room next to hyein’s is a guest bedroom, it’s quite small, but it’s more than enough.

hyein helps you with your luggage, but you assure her that everything is alright. (she still helps you out anyway, at least with your trinkets and whatnot)

you leave the suitcase with your clothes on the ground and unpack your things from your bag, hyein eyes your cd player on the bed, looking at it closely. you catch her staring, then grin.

“you can check it out.”

“really?”

“of course.” you assure. she eagerly sits down on the bed and looks at the small device, turning it around and inspecting each side. you laugh and head over next to her, pulling out a cd from your bag. “here,” you hand it to her. you press a button and it opens something, making hyein’s eyes widen. you place the cd in, then press play.

an instrumental plays, filling the quiet room with a soft melody. you stare at the ground, humming along slowly. hyein observes you close.

“what’s this?”

“an old chet baker cd, it was my dad’s. he collected many, i tried to bring all my favorites here with me.”

“it’s nice.” hyein mumbles, “the song.”

you flop down on the bed, laying down and staring up at the ceiling.

“my parents used to cook dinner to jazz, this was my dad’s favorite. my mom is a fan of fred astaire.”

you spend the next thirty minutes playing your favorite songs for hyein, she’s fond of everything you show her. she hears you humming along, and it makes her smile. she’s only known you for a little while, but she can tell you’re one special person.

–

two weeks have already flown by, and you’ve been working at lee’s kitchen in the meantime. you start early in the morning, continuing until hyein returns home. then, you help her with any studies she needs assistance with. when that’s done, she eagerly drags you to her favorite spots, showing you the best coffee places around to satisfy your cravings, even if it’s a bit late for caffeine.

you've settled into something comfortable, maybe even a routine. if this is how you'll spend your last couple of months, then you're perfectly fine with the mundane. you don't have any siblings, but hyein is what you imagine it would be like to have one. you two bicker the way you've seen others bicker, and you enjoy every moment spent together. despite the three-year age difference, you've grown close quickly, sharing laughs and conversations about anything.

this is when you learn that it’s not time that makes strong bonds, it’s the people and their energy. you’ve known others for years only for them to walk away and drift off in a snap, none of those years added up to what you have with hyein.

she’s something like a sister to you, something like that. maybe a cousin – something familial.

–

“here’s your mandu, sauce, and vegetables. you sure you don’t want anything else?” you ask the customers outside – an older couple, maybe in their thirties or so.

the woman shakes her head, then smiles at you warmly. “thank you, it’s fine, really.”

“right, just let me know if you need anything.”

“thank you.” she says finally. you smile then turn to pick up the dishes left on the other table outside, and also the six dollar tip.

you balance the dishes on one hand, but almost drop them after turning around to see a familiar face, someone you met a few weeks ago.

her slightly grown out bangs fall over her forehead, parted in the middle. she looks at you with a smile, her pretty brown eyes sparkling. her long eyelashes make her even more striking, she looks like a princess almost, especially with the morning sun shining down on her. danielle waves at you, her smile growing wider, revealing a glimpse of her teeth.

“y/n! hi!” she greets, “i didn’t know you worked here too?”

“hi danielle.” you mumble, “mrs. lee gave me the job a few weeks ago actually, i’m really grateful.”

“ah, i see.”

you nod, then turn your head at the door. “let’s go inside, it’s pretty hot out here.”

“right.”

as you head through the door, you turn your body a bit so that the dishes on your hand can fit through too. danielle follows right behind, then seats herself right at the chair by the counter. she watches you head to the back, then peek out a minute later and pat down your apron.

you pull out your notepad, then ask, “what can i get you?”

“hmmm,” she pouts a bit as she thinks. “some cold noodles would be great, just a small portion though. could i get some sliced carrots on the side?”

“of course, anything else?”

“your company when you’re done with it, if that’s possible.”

you look up from your notepad, she’s just looking at you with her head tilted and smiling. you swallow lightly, then smile as you respond shyly, “um, i can… do my best. it’s not busy, i’ll ask mrs. lee.”

“great.”

offering one more smile and avoiding eye contact, you rush to the back and give the cooks the order. mrs. lee is cutting vegetables, you hesitantly approach her. she looks up, then smiles at you warmly before handing you small carrot slice. you laugh, moving your head over to grab it in between your teeth and take a bite.

“have you eaten yet dear?”

“no, um it’s nothing though. i just had a question.”

“you should eat soon… and what was it?”

“do you know danielle?”

“marsh?”

“i don’t know her last name… um, she has brown eyes and long lashes. very smiley.”

mrs. lee clicks her tongue. “yes, i know her.”

“right, yeah. she’s here, she ordered cold noodles and–”

“--carrots, her usual.” mrs. lee finishes your sentence. “sorry, what about her?”

“she just… asked me to keep her company.”

“well go on then.”

“oh, really?”

“you haven’t eaten either, go fix yourself something up and keep the girl company. she’s a lovely lady, really. very nice, very bubbly. hyein loves her, everyone does.”

“right.” you nod your head, looking down at the ground quickly before adding, “you’re sure it’s fine?”

“dear, this isn’t the city. it’s not too busy here, especially not right now. i don’t want you starving either.”

“of course, thank you.”

–

danielle waits nearly ten minutes, she’s looking at a magazine on the table before you’re back outside with her dishes. she immediately lights up looking at you, which makes you blush a bit; is everyone here so happy and bright?

you place her food down in front of her, then run back behind the counter to take off your apron and grab your own dish before sitting down next to her.

“whatcha got there?” she asks, eyeing your bowl.

“just eggs over rice with seaweed and soy sauce, nothing big.”

“looks wonderful,” she grabs a carrot slice with her chopstick and eats it happily. “yum.”

“yeah,” you awkwardly look down at your food before taking a bite. “yum.”

it’s strange, but also oddly comforting. being next to her is stressful at first, both of you simply eat in silence and danielle hums hear and there to let you know how much she enjoys her dish. you find yourself smirking as you eat, but don’t dare to look at her. not until she starts a conversation.

“so what brings you here?”

“sorry, what?”

“to the town.”

“oh.” you say mid bite, then swallow. “just… troubles. i needed to get out the city and… live a little.”

“i love that.” she grins, then takes another bite.

“thanks?” you let out a little laugh before poking at your egg. “what prompted you to ask me to give you company?”

she shrugs. “i just think you’re interesting, that’s all.”

for some reason, an enamored flutter stirs in your chest. you mutter a small, “ah,” before taking another bite of your food. even after danielle finishes her meal first, she keeps asking you questions, eager to have a conversation. when you finish your meal and hear the bell above the door ring, signaling a customer, mrs. lee suddenly pops out from the back and pushes you back into your seat. danielle giggles, extending your time together.

during your conversation, she learns that you’re an only child, about the tattoo on your forearm that you got because of your parents, and your hobbies. talking to her is surprisingly easy, much easier than with anyone you’ve ever met in the city. there, people shut down small talk, so you eventually gave up. but danielle isn’t the type to give up. she gives you her full attention, which is different than you’re used to.

this urges you to ask your own questions. you learn that she works at an animal shelter owned by her friends’ parents and tends to the pets. she even pulls out her phone to show you pictures of a dog she’s become close to—a fluffy friend named jerry. as she swipes through an album of two hundred photos, her expressions are adorable. it’s heartwarming, and you feel a sense of connection that you hadn’t expected.

“he’s so lovely and playful and–” a notification on her phone cuts her off, you read a bit and it’s a reminder that she has to clock into work soon. she frowns, then apologizes, “agh, i lost track of time.” and so did you, it’s been nearly thirty minutes but it had felt like five. “i should get going, it was great talking to you! hey, if you have time you should come over to the shelter! i can write address for you if you get lost.”

“it’s fine,” you say, already stacking both of your dishes together. “and i’d love to visit.”

“great, i love your company.”

“you do?”

“of course!” danielle giggles again, it brings a smile to your face. “i’ll see you around, okay? promise you’ll visit?”

“yes, yeah.” you mutter, “i’ll drop by.”

“great,” danielle says, then fishes for a marker in her little purse. she grabs your hand, catching you off guard. “can i?” she asks, pointing to your forearm.

“o-oh, yeah, of course.”

“sweet.” she starts to scribble an address, then a number. you watch closely, then your eyes drift away from your arm to her concentrated expression. she finishes writing and caps the pen again, clapping her hands proudly. “i also put my number just in case, text me if you need!”

“thanks danielle.”

“you can call me dani! since we’re friends now.”

friends. it makes you happy hearing it, you’re friends after a single conversation with her.

“alright, thanks friend.” your response earns a snicker from danielle, she’s shaking her head and smiling at you again before saying,

“you’re funny, i like you.” it sends another flutter in your chest, you gulp. “see you!”

“bye dani!”

she waves at you again before heading out the door, eliciting a jingle sound throughout the restaurant. you keep staring at the door, stuck in place until you feel a tap a your shoulder.

when you turn around, mrs. lee is beside you looking at the door and smiling.

“she’s a very sweet girl.” mrs. lee says, then looks up at you.

“yeah, i can tell.”

“she seems to be fond of you.”

“really? that’s good…”

“i’m glad you’re making friends y/n. you can’t hang around hyein forever…” she jokes, it makes your cheeks burn from embarrassment. you’re nineteen very much an adult, the revelation that your closest and only friend is a sixteen year old girl who’s currently in class.

you laugh, then shyly mumble, “thanks.”

–

later that evening, you and hyein head out to explore. you mention your conversation with danielle, and the girl walking next to you beams, evidently delighted.

you suggest walking to the animal shelter where danielle invited you to visit, and hyein lights up at the mere mention. she jumps up and exclaims, “yes!” before grabbing your hand and leading you down the road with infectious enthusiasm. it seems that danielle spreads all kinds of joy and excitement wherever she goes. how lovely.

the two of you make it there in no time, the ten minute walk seemed like nothing, somehow.

it’s a small building, but it looks incredibly charming from the outside. the wooden framing and exterior give it a warm, cozy feel, and the little sign reading “kang’s kare shelter” makes you smile. the place exudes a welcoming vibe, and you can only imagine how much lovelier it must be inside, especially if danielle is there too.

walking in, you’re greeted by someone who isn’t danielle.

instead, it’s a girl who lights up after seeing hyein, who runs behind the counter to hug her.

“haerin! surprise!”

“what are you doing here?”

hyein pouts, parting away and groaning, “you don’t sound thrilled.”

“pftt, you’ll just steal the snacks i bought.”

“hey! i’m also here to see the animals… and you i guess.”

the girl—haerin, presumably—rolls her eyes at hyein with a snarky grin. then she looks at you, tilting her head as you walk over and stand across the counter. hyein perks up when she sees you, dramatically gesturing with both hands as she introduces you.

“this is y/n! she just moved here from the city.”

“y/n?” haerin questions.

“that’s me.”

“oh, danielle mentioned you earlier. your eyes are nice...”

“what?” you raise a brow, confused.

the girl shrugs, then mumbles, “nothing.” she walks out, tilting her head to urge you and hyein to follow her. “come, i’ll show you the pets. danielle is doing a check-up on the only client—er, animal—we have.” she explains, then looks at hyein from the side, raising her brows with fake annoyance. “and hyein, i know you’re only here for jelly.”

“you know me too well.”

“whatever…” haerin sighs, opening a door to a room with three cats inside.

hyein gasps, looking at them all in awe. in a gentle voice, she fawns, saying “awww” and immediately running over to crouch down and pet the black cat by the window.

haerin walks over to the cat in the corner, clicking her tongue softly. the cat looks up at her and immediately walks over, rubbing its head against her hand. haerin smiles, petting it with care and affection.

you make your way to the orange cat sitting on a small chair, clearly designed for pets. you crouch down, gently stroking its fur. the cat stirs awake from its slumber and meows contentedly, making you smile. the room feels warm and peaceful, filled with the quiet sounds of purring and the soft rustle of fur.

after a minute or two of admiring the furry creature and snapping a few pictures, you catch haerin in your peripheral crouching down next to you, her eyes on the cat as she pets it too.

“danielle is in the room down the hall, just to let you know.”

“hm?” you turn to face her, she’s still petting the cat.

“go out the room and turn right, she’s in the room two doors down. she’s just doing a check-up. you can go see her if you want."

“oh, thanks.”

haerin turns to look at you. “have fun.” she mumbles, then brings the orange cat in her arms, looking at it like it’s her child.

you look over to see hyein sitting against the wall, all her attention is on the two cats that have found their way to their laps. you snap a quick picture before leaving the room.

your heart quickens with anticipation as you walk down the hall. you follow haerin’s directions and gently push open the door to find danielle tending to the same dog she had shown you earlier—jerry, who’s cuter in person. danielle is focused on the task at hand, using a stethoscope to listen to jerry's heartbeat, then checking his ears and gently inspecting his paws.

you hesitate for a moment before knocking softly on the door. danielle doesn't notice at first, but when she finally looks up and sees you, her face lights up with surprise and joy. her smile is radiant and contagious, you’re smiling too.

"y/n!" she exclaims, her eyes sparkling. "you came!"

“of course, i mean, you invited me.”

“aw, how sweet of you.” she says, then mumbles a, “lay down” and “stay.” to jerry, who does just as he’s told.

she walks over to you, then grabs your wrist without warning and it makes your heart skip a beat for some reason. she leads you over to the chair in the room and sits you down.

“did i bother you and jerry?”

“no, not at all. we’re almost done actually.” danielle assures, then turns back to tend to jerry.

you watch her work her magic, finishing up the job and giving him a treat after he’s done. she pats his head and helps him off the counter, he immediately rushes over to you and jumps up to lick your cheek.

“ah–” his tail is wagging, paws on your knees, and licking you sloppily.

“heyy jerry! i’m so sorry… he’s very excited to see you.”

“i’m glad,” you mutter through the outburst of affection. “does that mean i’m on his nice list?”

“everyone is,” she answers, watching you stand up so you can pet jerry without being bombarded with kisses. “but he’s never this excited. you’ve got some magic y/n-ie.”

the little nickname makes you smile harder, and jerry is jumping up so his paws claw at your pants more. danielle shakes her head in disapproval, but she’s still smiling as she calms him down.

you crouch to meet his level again, scratching behind his neck and petting him. you look up at danielle, who’s already looking at you.

“what breed is he?”

“burnese mountain dog, very affectionate dogs.”

jerry licks your hand, making you laugh. “that’s given.”

danielle crouches down next to you, she turns her head and it makes you nervous when your faces are so close together. she turns back to face jerry, fondly petting him. “he’s a very good boy, isn’t that right?” jerry barks in response, making her chuckle. “well, it’s time for him to rest. i gave him some medications earlier.”

“i see.”

“follow me.” she says. you nod.

you follow her into the next room, where danielle gently opens the door. jerry trots in and immediately heads to his cozy bed in the corner. danielle crouches beside him, her movements tender and reassuring. she lovingly pats him and plants a soft kiss on his head, which makes his tail wag slowly and then come to a gentle stop. with delicate, practiced motions, she scratches behind his ears and along his neck, using just the tips of her fingers. her soothing touch gradually calms him, and soon he’s lying comfortably, breathing evenly, and blinking slowly as he drifts into a state of peaceful relaxation.

her care and tenderness are genuinely admirable. the gentle, focused expression on her face as she tends to jerry mirrors the soft, loving way she interacts with him. it’s really cute. there’s a quiet grace in her movements and a warmth in her eyes that draws you in. you find yourself watching her with the same kind of admiration and affection she shows jerry, mesmerized by the serene connection between them.

she turns over to you, faintly mumbling, “hey, y/n?”

“yeah?”

“wait outside for me, would you? he’s a bit excited because you’re here. this guy here needs some rest.”

“oh– yeah, of course. sorry.”

“it’s fine, i won’t take long.”

you nod, giving her a soft smile before heading out the door.

as you take in the interior of the shelter, your gaze lingers on the wall adorned with photos of danielle, haerin, and their colleagues with the animals.

the pictures capture moments of joy and affinity—danielle’s pretty smile beside a playful puppy, haerin laughing with a contented cat on her lap. solo shots of the animals show their distinct personalities, while group photos feature jerry with his companions, their expressions curious. there’s also some pictures that show the other employees together with the animals.

the collection is heartwarming and conveys a sense of community and care. you find yourself smiling softly, touched by the genuine affection and dedication displayed in every frame.

the door opens in the corner of your eye, you turn and catch danielle peeking in as she closes it slowly.

“he’s asleep now.” danielle walks over to you, head tilted up just a bit. “i’m all yours now.”

the way she words everything is dangerous, it flusters you. she smiles like she hasn’t just formed a lump in your throat, making you cough to clear it.

“is he alright?”

“just inflammation and a bit of pain, he should be fine in the morning.”

“that’s great to hear.”

“it is.”

you stare at her for a little longer, struggling to find words to say. she beats you to it.

“did hyein tag along?”

“yeah, i was afraid i’d get lost.”

danielle giggles. “aw, she’s very sweet. her and haerin are close.”

“are they?”

“they go to school together, best friends.”

“that’s lovely.”

“mhm.” danielle turns her head in the other direction, putting her hands behind her back and holding her hands together. she bites the inside of her lip, then tilts her head, urging you to follow her.

“let me show you something, it’s better than the city i bet.”

you snicker, looking at her with raised brows. “you seem pretty confident.”

“trust me.” she starts to walk down the hall, taking a turn and leading you to sliding door. she opens it, stepping outside and you follow.

immediately, your jaw drops at the sight in front of you. it’s similar as the sight from the hotel you stayed in, giving you a view of the beach, but it’s prettier from this spot.

“woah.”

“is it better than the city?”

“for sure.”

danielle leans against the railing, gazing out at the sky. “this is the view i get to see everyday, i love it. i’m glad you came over, i wanted to show you this.”

“thank you, really.” you walk over to lean against the railing next to her, looking out as well. “you’re really sweet, like so sweet. i feel at home, you and everyone here are really welcoming.”

“well,” danielle starts, she’s facing you now. she looks at the side of your face, tracing down each feature before continuing, “a lovely person deserves a lovely welcome.”

—

haerin locks up the shelter, pulling on the door to ensure it’s fully locked. she turns around to shoot a small smile at danielle, holding a thumbs up.

“good to go.”

“great!”

the two walk down the road together, their route home is the same since danielle lives with haerin and her family. the two walk in silence for a bit, silence never hurts at all. they’ve been close since birth, and plus, haerin is just quiet, usually the listener.

but this time haerin is a bit curious, looking at danielle, who’s staring up at the sky. the sun has nearly set all the way.

“what did you and y/n do?”

“hm?” danielle turns her head. “oh, she met jerry!”

“ah.” haerin hums. “you seem very interested in her.”

“just curious.”

“hyein seems to like her a lot. city girl is interesting.”

danielle snickers at the nickname. “pftt, city girl…”

“well, city girl seems to be interested in you too.”

“she’s new and hasn’t mingled with many, it’s natural for her to do that.”

haerin shakes her head, then kicks a rock on the ground. “no, somethings different. same goes for you too.”

“what?” danielle’sbrows furrow slightly in confusion, but a soft giggle escapes her lips.

“you’re so eager to get to know her, you talked about her a lot today too. you’re not that talkative about people like that, not even with minji or hanni.”

danielle tilts her head, her eyes filled with a mix of amusement and curiosity, clearly trying to make sense of the unusual comment. “right,” the giggle lingers, a gentle sound that reflects her bemusement. “i don’t know, she’s just interesting. as soon as i met her she caught my eye, when i ran into her the first time it just… felt right?” danielle shrugs, sighing in a somewhat dreamy way. “i don’t know, i just think we could be good friends. she’s really sweet, and pretty too. i wonder if all city girls are that… ethereal.”

haerin just looks at her and narrows her eyes, then shrugs it off.

“whatever.”

–

mrs. lee gives you a day off, urging you to go out more by yourself instead of being around hyein. you hesitate when she tells you the night before, wanting nothing more than to help out with opening and share some small talk with her, but she shakes her head.

“you haven’t even gone to the beach, have you? you’re missing out… get out there. it’s prettier in the morning, you should sleep now before you miss the sunrise.”

this is how you find yourself out on a less than fifteen minute run through various neighborhoods and trails that you haven’t seen yet, and towards the sand in your vision.

the sky is still a soft gradient of dawn, with the first rays of sunlight just beginning to peek over the horizon. the sight of the sun emerging from behind the water casts a golden hue across the scene, and you can’t help but quicken your pace. your sneakers hit the sand, and you pause to slip them off, savoring the cool, grainy texture beneath your feet. you start walking down a natural trail, bordered by tufts of grass and delicate wildflowers.

the serenity of the moment, along with the gentle morning breeze, fills you with a sense of calm.

you can’t help but think that your mom and dad would love it here, with you, all of you together.

a sigh leaves your lips as you sit down on the sand, propping yourself up with your hands behind you and sitting with your feet out. you’re pretty far from where the waves crash and wet the sand, making sure you can’t get splashed.

you grab the small backpack you had brought along, it only has a waterbottle, your cd player, and headphones inside. you empty it, setting the cd player on your lap, putting on the headphones, and taking a sip of water.

jazz hums in your ear, making you smile.

yeah, your parents would love the sight.

the sun is peeking out more now, a third of it above the horizon. the rays of sun hit your face and it feels refreshing, something also clashes into you all of the sudden, making you yelp.

“jerry!” you hear from the distance.

a second later, there’s a dog licking your cheek and nuzzling itself into you, clearly excited to have run into you. you turn and catch jerry stepping back, looking at you with eager eyes and a wagging tail. you can’t help but laugh, reaching over to pet her.

“well look who it is.” you mutter softly, “miss me that much?”

jerry barks, then you catch danielle in the distance jogging up to you too. you stare a little hard at her, she’s wearing a cropped baby tee and jean shorts. her hair is being blown in her face by the wind, so she pushes a few strands behind her ear. she looks really pretty, that’s what you notice.

“i’m sorry about that,” danielle apologizes, crouching down to affectionately scratch jerry’s ears and neck. “you, mister, need to learn some manners.” she scolds playfully, giving him a pouty, angry look.

you can’t help but laugh. “hey, it’s a lovely surprise to see jerry, don’t be too harsh on him now…” you reach to pet him too, hand accidentally brushing against danielle’s – but who’s paying attention to that.

(you are.)

“it’s a surprise seeing you here, y/n.”

“same here – i mean, you know, seeing you.” you watch her sit down next to you on the sand, patting down on the sand to urge jerry to sit right in between you two. “mrs. lee gave me the day off, she recommended the beach in the morning.”

“she has a good eye.” danielle softly strokes jerry’s fur. “whatcha listening to?”

“chet baker, heard of him?”

“i have!” she nods. “i like a few of his songs.”

“really?”

“mhm, lovely voice, beautiful melodies.” she says, now looking at the rising sun. “can i listen with you?”

"oh! yeah, of course." you unplug your headphones and press the play button on the side of the device, upping the volume to let the melody fill the air.

danielle's ears twitch slightly as she lights up with recognition. "i know this one!"

"it's pretty popular. it was my mom’s favorite," you mumble, humming softly to the beginning of the song. the tune is gentle, slow, and oddly intimate, perfectly matching the mood of the moment.

"oh, i love this part," danielle mutters before starting to sing along softly, "wherever you are~ you’re near meeee~ you dare me to be untrueee."

you giggle softly, your lips curling into a smile as you watch her, bathed in the early morning sunlight and looking so genuinely happy.

turning back to face the view in the distance, you join in, "funny each time i fall in loveeee"

both of you face the sun, but as the last lyric of the verse plays, you coincidentally glance at each other and sing together,

"it’s always youuu”

laughter bubbles up between you, light and giddy, warming your hearts. there's something about danielle that makes you feel relaxed and content. you stop giggling for a moment to simply smile at her, and she mirrors your expression, both of you basking in the shared joy of the moment. you wonder how long a human can go without their heart beating or without breathing.

“danielle,” you almost whisper, gazing softly. “you have a really lovely voice.”

“aw, don’t be silly.”

“i’m not.” you roll your eyes, looking back at the sunrise. danielle continues to stare at the curve of your features.

“you’re not bad yourself.”

“that’s a lot coming from you, thank you michael buble.” you response makes danielle laugh hard, which makes you laugh even harder, the two of you are laughing like idiots in the sand as the sun comes out into full view.

danielle’s fingers run softly over the fur on jerry’s head, his blinks get slower. you look at him adoringly, petting his back.

“how long have you known him?”

“jerry?”

“who else would i be referring to…”

“harsh.” she frowns, making you scoff playfully. “a few years – since he was a puppy. we found him as a stray, he’s been in the shelter since.”

“i see. you must love him.”

“i knew him before i graduated high school.” danielle says, then looks at jerry lovingly. “he’s basically my son.”

“that’s cute.” you mumble. “you guys are really cute.”

danielle looks up at you, and for a moment, her eyes seem to sparkle. maybe it's just a trick of the light, but there's something about her gaze. she carries a natural grace, not just because she’s breathtakingly gorgeous, but because everything about her exudes warmth and ease. with danielle, there’s no room for worry or doubt. despite only knowing her for basically two days -- maybe less – she’s like someone you've known for years, even decades. she's sweet, kind, and caring; the latter.

it's hard to put into words, but there's something extraordinary about her. she’s just so...

“beautiful.” you didn’t mean to say that out loud, or continue to stare at her until the words processed in your head and you had turned away, flustered.

danielle looks at you in surprise, then laughs and tilts her head in confusion. “what?”

“sorry, nothing– the song–” clearing your throat, you point to the cd player. “it’s beautiful.”

“yeah.” danielle agrees, looking you in the eye.

–

you spend the rest of the day together, with danielle insisting, "you're so interesting," and expressing an urge "to get to know someone as cool as you more."

she leads you to her favorite café by the beach, enthusiastically offering to pay for the coconut latte, which she claims is the tastiest item on the menu. trusting her judgment, you take a sip, and the flavor lives up to her hype. danielle claps her hands and beams with delight when you give her a look and sigh of satisfaction after the first sip.

as the day progresses, she continues to show you around, her excitement palpable and infectious. her genuine enthusiasm helps you feel even more at ease in this new place. you can’t help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging, all thanks to her. it’s strange, but you don’t really dwell on it. with danielle, everything just feels right.

–

you had watched the sun rise and set with danielle, spending the entire day together, though it felt like only an hour or two had passed.

when you get back home, you flop onto your bed with a happy sigh. before you know it, someone barges into the room, then jumps and lands next to you on the bed. the mattress peaks and pushes you up with the combined force of gravity and the added weight.

you turn to see hyein looking at you with a knowing look, her brows raised and a stupid smirk on her face. "so," she begins, her tone dripping with playful curiosity, "how was your date with danielle?" she nudges you with her elbow, clearly fishing for details.

you sit up and look at her with a confused expression. “date? no, we just spent some time together.”

“haerin tells me it was from sunrise to sunset…” she nudges your shoulder playfully and you push her away. you can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes at her antics.

"it wasn’t a date, i’ve known her for less than a week." you say. “we literally just spent the day together.”

the realization hits that you’ve never spent the day together with anyone other than your parents, even your late friends. you’ve gone hours with them and had sleepovers, but this isn’t the same.

“i bet it was a wonderful day.” hyein’s grin widens, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “seems like sunshine lady and city girl have hit it off.”

“w-what?” you snicker, laughing at the stupid nicknames. “sunshine–? city–? you’re genuinely a child. is that what you call us?”

“haerin made them up.”

you roll your eyes at hyein, who’s pushing you and asking for more details. her excitement is infectious, and you find yourself smiling even more, the memory of the day’s events replaying in your mind. danielle’s laughter, her genuine curiosity, the way she made everything feel so effortlessly right. as hyein continues to tease and prod for more details, you realize just how special this day has been.

danielle made time feel like nothing, which is a bit dangerous considering you don’t have a lot of time to begin with.

she had shared a lot of her likes, dislikes, life stories, and so much yet so little. you wanted to know more, you wanted her to ramble your ear off.

something that had caught your attention was the brief mention that she lived with haerin because her parents had passed away a few years ago. it brought some sorrow to you just from learning that, but some ease because she’s similar to you.

you briefly go over everything, and lastly you tell the younger girl beside you that danielle had given you her number, making hyein squeal.

“you have mo dani’s number?”

“mo dani?”

“nickname… you’ll know later – probably. you’re still new, but everyone knows the majority of her nicknames, she has a lot– ah! that’s not important. anyways–”

you chuckle at hyein shaking your head as you pull out your phone to show her your new lockscreen. it’s a picture of you and jerry down at the beach, one danielle had taken because she thought you two had looked adorable. the moment made you all nervous and blushy, but you don’t tell hyein that.

“i just wanted her to send this picture, isn’t he cute?”

“he’s adorable! oh my gosh let me tell you this funny story…” hyein starts, and you smile to yourself knowing that you’ve managed to change the subject. you don’t know how much teasing you can take from the menace in front of you.

–

you put an effort to visit danielle at least a few times a week after work and helping hyein out with assignments.

danielle is always happy to see you and converse while assisting her patients, you even help out with cleaning the instruments and area despite her trying to stop you. she insists it’s okay, but you’re willing to shut her down just to help.

hyein and haerin have a field day with you two everytime you’re together within their radius. they catch you two conversing, you staring at the patients – but mostly the woman helping them out – while danielle treats them, and the playful bickering and time spent together.

“they’re so cute… if only y/n wasn’t a loser.” hyein sighs, peeking at you two as you play with jerry.

“if only danielle could come to her senses.” haerin mumbles.

in return, danielle does her best to become a regular at lee’s kitchen. she’s there every other day — sometimes she’s they’re consecutively — for breakfast or even during her lunch break, though usually in the mornings because the restaurant is a bit of a walk from the shelter.

both of you spend time eating together because mrs. lee is generous, which makes you wonder if hyein had convinced her to let you slack off.

you find out that danielle has a weird, but cute obsession with carrots. each side she orders gets bigger, and she even ends up getting double the sides to the point that the amount of carrots she’s eating is more than the actual dish she orders. you marvel at this, even sending her off to work with a container of sliced carrots or giving her some each time you see her.

–

the library is a thirty minute walk from where you stay, haerin had recommended it to you because she assumed you’re “the type of person to spend time in a library for hours – willingly.” you didn’t know whether that was a compliment or not.

it’s been over three months in the town, you’ve made friends and grown quite fond of a special, bubbly girl – but you’ve never stepped foot in the library somehow.

walking in, you’re greeted by someone around your age, maybe a little older. she’s a girl with long dark hair, straighter than danielle’s. she’s wearing a button-up shirt and long linen pants, black frames sitting on her nose bridge.

“hi, welcome–” she pauses, looking at you closely. “–you’re… are you y/n? ah, i’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“oh, yeah. how did you–”

“danielle.” right, danielle, because it’s very normal and totally not making you overthink and flush at the thought of her talking about you to others. “she mentions you a lot, showed us a picture of you and jerry.”

“us?”

“me and our other friend hanni, she’s out and about right now though. anyways, would love to talk more, but there’s lots to do. everything is sorted out by genre, but if you need a certain book, you can look it up on the database and use the numbers to help you out,” she explains. her voice is very smooth, and she speaks with casual ease.

you nod, appreciating the information while trying to process the fact that danielle has been talking about you.

as you wander through the shelves, you can’t help but smile at the thought of her sharing your picture with her friends. however, you’re also a bit embarrassed because she has a lot of questionable pictures of you, ones you don’t look the best in. the warmth in your cheeks persists, but it’s a comforting kind of warmth, one that makes you feel a little valued.

your fingers graze each book, you’re just browsing around without thinking much of it.

past a few bookshelves there’s a small corner where light seeps in through a big window, and it gives a good view of the buildings across from the library. you notice a small book on the ground, narrowing your eyes at it and walking over to pick it up.

‘timestamps and twinflames’ the title is intriguing, so you find the nearest stool and open the book up.

the first page goes over the background of the book, something about a survey and observed data with various pairs that have a different relation and relationship to each other. it states that it’s a collection of family members, friends, and couples.

“a twin flame is a concept in spiritual and metaphysical beliefs that refers to an intense soul connection with someone thought to be a person's other half. it is often described as a deep, powerful bond that goes beyond physical attraction and emotional compatibility.

in this book, we’ve found puzzles with only two pieces, brought the pieces together, and found out their unique traits and connections.

along with this, we’ve noticed a trend with their date of death’s tattooed on them, including the time and placement.”

as you read through, everything reminds you of your parents.

“people run into each other for a reason, everyone’s interactions aren’t coincidences, they’re fate. not just death is calculated by the universe, but opportunities and decisions are influenced by it too in order for individuals to meet their ‘twin flame.’

3% of the worlds population – that have been reported and known – have met their twin flame. most of the time it’s romantic, however platonic twin flames exist as well. many of the reports have been of romantic partners, who fit seamlessly and complement each other well.

the chances of meeting one’s twin flame is very low, and individuals only have one twin flame. some people have twin flames from across the world, so it simply cannot happen. however, there are theories that twin flames meet in other universes, and it’s often depicted in media and literature. it’s not possible to find out if this theory is true, unfortunately.

twin flames always have the same timestamp of death, there are no exceptions to this – we’ve concluded.”

you’re deep into the book, absorbing every word. the information you've just read resonates a little too well with your parents' story. you never realized there was an entire study dedicated to this phenomenon. you had always considered your parents' meeting, falling in love, and the serendipitous timing of their lives as just a beautiful coincidence, nothing more. it was something out of a movie that you had always found crazy. but now, you see them as more than a mere coincidence; they’re a pair meticulously chosen and brought together by the universe itself – the universe.

"most individuals report similar experiences upon first meeting their twin flame. regardless of age–from adolescents to the elderly–the accounts share strikingly consistent themes:

when twin flames meet, there's an immediate sense of familiarity, as if they've known each other before, despite never having met. this uncanny recognition often comes with a profound feeling that something has clicked into place, filling a void they never knew existed.

many describe a peculiar sensation coursing through their bodies, a blend of exhilaration and tranquility, as if time has momentarily stopped. in that instant, everything becomes more comprehensible, and the world seems to align in a way that it never has before."

“hm.” you look at the page, your fingers running along each word as you read.

you felt a “peculiar sensation” and “exhilaration and tranquility” when you met danielle. you shake your head – it can’t be, that’s ridiculous. you don’t even have enough time to live and fulfill your time with a twin flame, why would the universe throw one at you?

the question doesn’t stop you from considering that it could be true, but maybe you’re just searching for something to make your last few months more meaningful. it’s a 3 percent chance of meeting your twin flame, and your record of being lucky isn’t the best.

(plus, your parents probably took all that luck away from you, it can’t possibly happen two generations in a row.

it doesn’t stop you from thinking that if danielle were your twin flame, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

you’d love it.)

and just as if the universe had alerted danielle you had thought of her, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. you reach down to pull it out, looking at the notification from her.

[danielle]

hi!

i just got off work :-)

are you busy?

i was wondering if you wanted to grab smoothies by the beach?

if you’re not busy of course…

you smile, unlocking your phone and responding immediately.

[y/n]

i’m not busy at all!

i was just reading at the library

i met your friend minji

i’ll meet you down at the beach? down by the cafe

[danielle]

yay!

that sounds perfect y/n-ie ;-)

can’t wait to see you! tell me about minji when we’re together

also, jerry won’t be joining us :-( he’s a very sleepy boy today

–

danielle arrives a little later than you, you take the time to buy her a smoothie while you had waited. one lychee smoothie for you, and a mango one for her – she had mentioned how much she liked mangos, and you made sure to ask for an extra carrot in the smoothie, earning a weird look from the worker.

you sit down outside on the steps, staring out at the beach until someone creeps from behind.

“hey!” danielle greets, putting both hands on your shoulders. you turn to look at her, rolling your eyes.

“you scared the life out of me.”

“that was the plan~” she sings, putting her hand out for you to take, urging you up. “you bought the smoothies already?”

“mhm, there’s a carrot in yours too, thought you’d like it.” the way her lips curve even more answers that remark. “let’s find a spot.” you insist.

she softens her gaze before nodding, you feel your heart pound against your chest

a tank top hugs her frame perfectly, its floral pattern complementing the dark linen shorts she wears. her sandals help her walk on the sand with ease as you both stroll along the beach. her hand is still intertwined with yours, and you feel your breath hitch when her grip tightens.

“so, how was your day?” she asks.

it’s a routine, you and danielle meeting up just because you two simply enjoy being around each other. she always asks you first, you rarely beat her to the chase.

“normal as always.”

“oh come onnn, tell me about everything.”

“it was just the usual dani.” you state, sipping on your smoothie. “we had breakfast and then um… oh, haerin’s mom came over and said hi. uhhh hyein didn’t have any homework so i went to the library, i think she’s hanging out with iroha or something. i met your friend minji, she tells me that my name is in your mouth…” you look at her with raised brows, expecting an answer.

“i– you know…” she looks down at the ground, kicking the sand. “we spend a lot of time together – i like spending time with you. of course i’m going to tell my friends about you silly… anyways, what did you do at the library? did you hang with minji?”

shaking your head, you respond, “no, she was busy. i read this book though, almost two hours passed… i was so into it.”

“what a lovely book… you have to show it to me sometime! we can even visit minji together!”

you grin at the thought, you’d do anything if she were there with you.

“yeah, that would be great. also, the book kind of had me thinking…” you stop in your place, looking at her.

danielle stops too, then looks at you with a tilted head. “yeah?”

“do you think soulmates– well, something more than that.”

“like what?”

“twin flames.” you mutter, then turn to look at the sea. “do you think they’re real?”

her features deepen with skepticism. “what?”

“like, i don’t know. i was reading the book and it was talking about people who were like, perfect for each other. you know how everyone has a destined death date? the book was talking about how everyone also has a destined person.” you explain, then lead her over to a nearby bench.

she sits down next to you, thinking to herself. “i’ve only seen that in movies, do you think they’re real?”

“i think my parents were twin flames.”

“is that so…”

“yeah, “ you mumble, taking a sip of your smoothie. “i told you that they had the same date of death right? well the book was saying that twin flames are like that. and plus, everything in the book i read resonated with them. i think they’re real.”

danielle, stares at you for a moment. you’re leaned against the bench and staring closely at the ocean.

“i think that’s a beautiful concept.”

“yeah,” you look at her again. “it’s wonderful.”

you two go silent, then you ask her how her day was to clear the strange tension in the air. your upper rib stings a bit – right where your mark is – but you ignore it as danielle tells you about a patient she had to calm down, a small kitten that had scratched her.

she ends up scooting a little closer, her shoulder touching yours until she’s leaning against you.

your mark stings again until you put your arm around her, keeping her close.

–

later, when the sun is setting, both of you stand by the wet part of the sand. the waves crash onto it, wetting your feet in the process.

danielle kicks some water towards you, it splashes against your lower legs, making you groan. you splash water towards her, hitting so aggressively that water splashes above her knee and hits the edge of her shorts.

“oh it’s so on.” she says, running towards you. you start to rush away, but she manages to splash you right on the back of your thigh, making you yelp.

“hey!”

“payback!”

“you started it!”

both of you end up kicking more water at each other, shouting and laughing in the process. she runs away to tie her hair up, then rushes back and leaps onto you, grabbing hold of your arm. she pulls you deeper into the water, which rises from your ankles to your knees.

“hey, wait–”

“scared of the water?” danielle snickers, her playful brown eyes sparkling and her teeth glowing in a wide smile.

you groan, shaking your head. “oh, shut up.”

the whole ordeal escalates as she uses her hands to splash water onto you, soaking your shorts and the bottom part of your oversized t-shirt. you scowl at her, then grab her arm and push her down into the water. her surprised laugh turns into a delighted squeal as she tumbles into the waves. she pulls you down with her and now both of you drenched but grinning from ear to ear.

you lift yourself out of the water, shaking your head and splashing her with droplets flying from your hair.

“now we’re even,” danielle says, wiping water off her face.

“absolutely not.”

you splash her again, and she yelps, then laughs. she stands up and backs away from you. you're watching her happily, then something makes you pause. her white tank top, now soaked, clings to her skin, and you catch a glimpse of ink on her rib, the same area as your own tattoo but on the opposite side; instead, it’s on her left.

before you can process it, she interrupts your thoughts with another splash. you close your eyes and spit out the salty water, groaning before you tackle her.

you two emerge from the water and stand up, facing each other and both wiping off the salty water from your faces. you use your hand to slick your hair back, then push away a chunk of hair that clings to danielle’s cheek.

“you’re soaked.” you chuckle through a grin.

“and who’s fault is that?” she questions sarcastically.

you shrug. “technically yours.”

she rolls her eyes at you, then does the unexpected.

her eyes dart to your lips for a moment before she cups your cheek gently with one hand. your gaze shifts to meet hers as she steps closer, maintaining eye contact.

“you look so cute right now…” she murmurs, brushing her thumb against the edge of your bottom lip. “can i?”

your stomach tightens, and your heart feels like it's being squeezed as if it were one of the pet toys danielle uses to calm her patients down. unable to form a coherent response, you nod and hum, “mhm.”

danielle smiles softly, and suddenly, everything feels right. she wraps her arms around your neck, leaning in and tilting her head. you close your eyes, feeling her lips press against yours.

it's a little salty, a given considering you’ve both been fighting in the ocean. but still, it’s warm and wonderful, and you feel like you might melt until you’re one with the water beneath you. she pulls back for a second, her eyes still closed and her lips ghosting over yours. then she kisses you again, and it feels like you've been hit by a tidal wave.

your hands move to her waist, pushing her closer.

she pulls away and looks at you, your faces a few inches apart.

“i like you a lot y/n.” she confesses, playing with a strand of your wet hair. “i really do.”

it hasn’t really hit you in the past, you never thought about it that hard. being around danielle made you giddy and carefree, plus she’s the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen, you’ve thought that since you first laid eyes on her. you don’t need a second to think or clarify in your mind that–

“me too.” you practically breathe out, looking at her lovingly.

“i’m glad.” she says, then kisses you again. your hand brushes against her tattoo without you knowing and she shivers, pulling away. “it’s kind of cold, and late.” she mumbles, “we should head back–”

you cut her off with another kiss, then part with a smile.

“yeah.”

–

hyein is wiping the tables, then hears the bell jingle. “we’re closed! come back tomorrow!” she says nicely without looking up.

“it’s me.” you say quietly.

she looks up, brows furrowing when she looks at your wet shirt and damp hair. “what happened to you?” she asks, “my god, wait here, let me get a towel.”

when she’s back with a gray towel in her hand, you put it around you and sigh happily, leaning against the wall. hyein looks at you with a weird expression, almost like you’re an idiot.

“what’s up with you?”

“i just kissed dani.” you say it like it’s unbelievable, maybe because it isn;t. “hyein i just kissed danielle marsh.”

hyein’s jaw drops, she walks over to you and puts her hands on your shoulder, shaking you. “did you really?” she questions, baffled. “don’t mess around with me!”

“i’m not.” you sigh, smiling to yourself. “i’m gonna shower.”

she groans, “hey! don’t just–”

you walk away from her, smiling the whole way through and making her groan again.

–

haerin opens the door to a soaked danielle. her tank top is still sticking to her skin and her hair is still wet, but there’s a smile on her face that’s way brighter than usual.

“why are you wet?” haerin asks, letting her inside. “why didn’t you bring swimwear.”

“i just kissed y/n.” danielle giggles, “i just kissed–” she puts a hand on haerin’s shoulder. “--y/n.”

haerin looks at her with absolute shock evident on her face. “you what.”

“oh my god it was so perfect and even better than the movies it was so unreal and–”

“you what?!” haerin’s jaw drops, she’s more than overwhelmed.

–

danielle greets you in the morning with a kiss on the cheek before sitting down to have breakfast with you. she looks at you much more lovingly now, since her feelings are clear to you. you smile shyly when she does it.

you lead her out of the restaurant, gently playing with her fingers as you both stand outside. small promises of seeing each other later are exchanged, and when danielle pouts, you reassure her that being apart for a few hours isn't the end of the world. to emphasize your point, you quickly peck her lips, earning a bright smile in return.

reluctantly, she lets go of your hand and waves before starting to walk away. suddenly, she rushes back to give you one more kiss, then dashes off to make her way to work.

danielle thinks of you the whole way to work, a small smile on her lips forms and doesn’t leave.

haerin is turning on the laptops at the front desk when she hears a bright and eager “good morning!” after the door swings open. the younger girl rolls her eyes, waving at danielle.

“someones happy.”

“how could i not be? guess who i just saw–”

“y/n,” haerin groans, but grins after. “we get it, you’re in love.”

“she gave me some extra carrots, and also a small bag of cherry tomatoes~”

haerin perks up, immediately walking over to danielle and tilting her head. danielle laughs, then fishes out a ziplock bag with ten or twelve little tomatoes inside, making haerin smile happily. she picks one out, plopping it into her mouth and chewing with a satisfied look on her face.

“tell your girlfriend i said thanks.”

danielle pulls out her phone, then snaps a picture of the happy haerin in front of her. haerin looks confused, then whines when she’s shown the picture.

“aw, look at you!” danielle giggles, zooming in on haerin’s stuffed cheek. “you look like a child.”

“shut up.”

“i’ll show y/n this, she’ll pack more next time.”

haerin pouts, then turns around smiling at the thought of more snacks for her.

–

you spend the next month hanging out with danielle whenever you can – she’s your girlfriend after all the fact that she’s all yours, it makes you giddy.

you two go on a variety of dates, spend time in danielle’s room looking at her old photos and trinkets, swim at the beach, take jerry out, accompanying her at work – anything really, because anything satisfies the two of you as long as you have each other.

this time you’re in danielle’s room again, laid on her bed side ways and propping yourself up with one elbow and your face in your hands. she’s talking about a dog she had treated at work, some shih tzu who had a temper tantrum and wouldn’t stop barking at her.

you look at her with stars in your eyes, nodding and humming along to her rambling. she’s sitting crissed cross in front of you, drying her hair with a towel and frowning at the mention that the shih tzu almost bit her.

“i’m sorry that happened dani.” you reach over to place a hand on her knee, rubbing it softly. “you dont deserve the hostility.”

“i know… ugh, anyway.” she leans over and presses a kiss on your forehead. “you should shower, use my towel.”

“okay okay.” you murmur, sitting up and leaning over to kiss her lips. you pull away and linger for a bit before asking, “haerin is alright with me staying over, right?”

“yeah, you’ve been feeding her tomato obsession, of course she is.”

you giggle, then get off the bed. “i’ll be quick.”

“okay love.” danielle says, smiling at you.

you walk down the hall and towards the bathroom with your pajamas – a t-shirt and shorts – then lock yourself inside. you smile thinking of danielle, thinking that this is the first time you’ve ever spent the night with someone you’ve liked romantically.

you look at the mirror in front of you and start to strip, taking off your shirt. you pause for a moment when you catch sight of the tattoo on your rib. it's been a while since you acknowledged it. running a finger over it, you shiver, then read the text. your eyes widen as the realization hits—you have less than three months until your time is up.

a wave of suffocation overwhelms you. you've just formed various bonds that have made you the happiest you have been since your parents passed. hyein feels like a sister to you. mrs. lee is one of the most generous and hardworking people you know—you'd spend hours and hours overtime for her if she asked. and then there's haerin, who you've built a solid friendship with and can joke around with effortlessly.

the weight of it all presses down on you, making it hard to breathe.

worst of all, you and danielle are together now.

you've never felt so strongly for someone, anyone. sure, you loved your parents deeply and felt your heart being ripped up into shreds when they died that night, but this—this is different.

something about danielle made you forget about the whole ‘destined death’ thing. she eased your worries and stopped your mind from spinning. she grounded you so your feet stayed down on earth instead of floating away into the space of your sorrow, and you’d bring the moon down for her on the way if she asked.

now, with less than three months left, it's all going to end. you'll lose everything and everyone you’ve built up in this town. how dumb could you be? thinking this was some stupid last resort, without considering the harm you’d cause. you'll leave everyone feeling as you did before—lost and alone. you're selfish, you're terrible. that’s all that runs in your mind.

it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you, or that you’ve stood up too quickly. you grip the sides of the sink for support, breathing shakily as you stare at your reflection. the room seems to close in around you as the weight of your situation presses down, making it hard to breathe.

–

danielle has been on her phone for over thirty minutes, her eyes drifting repeatedly to the closed door, worry etched across her face. just as she considers checking on you, the door opens, and you emerge in your pajamas with wet hair. the sight of danielle's face lighting up with happiness and relief eases you instantly, as if you hadn’t just spiraled in the bathroom moments before.

her smile is a balm to your frayed nerves, and the tension in your chest loosens. you take a deep breath, grateful for the small comfort of her presence. danielle sets her phone aside and moves towards you, her concern evident.

"everything okay?" she asks softly, her eyes searching yours.

you nod, forcing a smile. "yeah."

she pulls you into a gentle hug, and you allow yourself to relax in her embrace, letting the warmth of her affection wash over you. in that moment, everything feels a little more bearable, and you cling to that feeling, hoping it can carry you until you perish.

“you took long.” danielle teases. “missed you.”

“was it that long?”

“no…” danielle mutters, putting her arms around your neck. “but i started to worry.” she adds, pouting a bit.

“i’m sorry, i was just… zoning out.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” you say, then tilt your head a bit.

danielle plays with your hair, her fingers massaging your scalp as she gazes at you lovingly. she gently rubs her thumb over your flushed skin, finding you utterly adorable. your face is warm from the hot shower, and she tiptoes to kiss you, smiling into it and humming, satisfied.

both of you stay close in that moment, lips pressing together, parting, and then reuniting. it's soft and sweet, with danielle's fingers threading through your hair and your own hand subtly tracing along her waistline.

when she finally pulls away, she bites the inside of her lip, looking at you with a fond smile. "hey… close the door?"

"hm? okay." you comply, stepping back just enough to push the door closed with your fingers.

as the door clicks shut, danielle pulls you by the wrist, her lips crashing against yours. you gasp in surprise but quickly reciprocate, eager and fervent. her hands glide up and down the base of your neck, applying just enough pressure to rile you up—successfully so.

your hand rests above her waist, and you pull her closer, bodies pressing together as your lips savor each other like you're both famished. danielle bites your bottom lip lightly, making you groan softly and part your lips.

"dani—" you breathe out, your fingers grasping at her shirt.

she moves down to your jawline, leaving a trail of soft pecks that lead to your neck. her kisses are light, making you sigh as you shift yourselves toward her bed. you slowly maneuver yourself on top of her, your movements synchronized and unhurried, savoring every touch and kiss.

“y-you’re really eager, aren’t you?��

“i can’t help it…” she says into your skin. “you’re just so…”

she finishes attacking your neck and pulls away to meet your flustered face, smiling as she rubs your cheeks with both thumbs. the searing heat on your cheeks warms up her own skin.

“...adorable.” danielle mutters.

“...whatever.”

your hands rest at her waist, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. you look at her, silently asking, ‘is this okay?’ her response is to gently push your hand under her shirt, guiding your fingers to brush against her warm skin. the contact makes her bite her lip, a small sigh escaping her.

slowly, you slide your hand upwards, feeling the smooth curve of her side until your fingers rest just above her ribs. as your touch hovers over the ink on her skin, she gasps softly, the sound barely audible but full of emotion.

you pause for a moment, looking into her eyes, and see nothing but trust and desire. encouraged, you let your fingers trace the outline of her tattoo, feeling her shiver beneath your touch. her breathing quickens, and she closes her eyes, lost in the sensation.

danielle's hands find their way to your shoulders, pulling you closer. your lips meet again, more urgently this time, as if the world outside has ceased to exist.

you begin to pepper kisses along her jawline and neck, mimicking her earlier actions. danielle giggles as you do so, her hands moving through your hair. the previous intensity between you shifts to a more playful intimacy. you kiss her repeatedly, nipping at her skin and nudging your nose against her, eliciting another small laugh and a gentle tug at your hair.

the moment is lighthearted and warm until a knock at the bedroom door startles both of you. you practically jump off her, your cheeks burning with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. danielle clears her throat, quickly fixing her hair before getting up to answer the door.

"j-just a second," she calls out, giving you a reassuring smile before opening the door to see who it is. she clears her throat, answering, “yes?” and patting herself down before she opens the door to meet haerin. “oh, hey.”

“can we talk?” haerin says a bit seriously, making danielle look at her closely.

again, danielle clears her throat before turning to you. you’re avoiding any eye contact with haerin, simply shooting a thumbs up and running a hand through your hair to fix it up.

“yeah, of course.” she closes the door behind her, looking at haerin with a concerned expression. haerin looks worried, even looking at danielle with some type of pity and sadness. “is everything okay?”

“danielle, we… need to talk about– you know.” haerin mutters, pointing bashfully at danielle’s upper rib. “yeah.”

danielle tilts her head and her eyes flicker with confusion before she understands.

“oh.”

“i checked the date today,” haerin starts, looking at the ground. “you have little time, don’t you?”

“haerin, don’t worry about it.”

“it’s not just me. does y/n even know? i don’t even know when exactly, but that fact that i can predict the time is enough for me to worry. and what will you do? you and y/n? you’re going to–” haerin gulps, clenching her jaw as she tries to compose herself. tears well up in her eyes as she continues, “you’re going to be gone and… y/n doesn’t know.”

danielle looks at haerin with tears forming in her eyes as well. her bottom lip twitches looking at the younger girl before she speaks, “because i made the mistake of even hinting it, okay? look at you, and i bet minji, hanni, and hyein are stressed by it. it’s– look. i’ve been doing a great job at getting past it, okay? just… let me live the most i can.” danielle huffs, blinking and a tear falls. “i don’t have the most time anyway, not all of us are lucky enough to live past thirty.”

“dani–” haerin begins, but danielle just shakes her head, wiping her tear away.

"stop, just stop. i don’t want to think about it." it’s selfish, danielle knows it, but something about you makes her realize how much she’s missed out on in life. loving you is something she experienced late, yet it's the best thing that’s ever happened to her. from the moment she first laid eyes on you, something clicked.

an inexplicable urge pushed her to have breakfast with you that first time. then, she needed to see you again and again until her heart felt content and the burden of her tattoo faded away. you gave her clarity, a peace of mind she hadn’t known before. of course spending time with her friends and whatnot gave her some moments that were stress free, but she always came back home, laid in bed, and thought about her fate. however the more time she spent with you, the more the weight of her worries lifted, replaced by the lightness of your presence until it was like the whole tattoo thing didn’t exist or matter.

danielle feels a sense of urgency and desperation, knowing how fleeting these moments could be. but for now, with you by her side, everything feels right. it almost feels like you can be the one to break the whole ‘curse.’

(it’s nothing like that, just unlucky fate that danielle can’t seem to accept.)

“i’m going to go spend time with y/n.” danielle says after clearing her throat. haerin looks at her, mouth slightly open and tears practically spilling out her waterline.

–

you lay in bed with a hand on your tattoo and staring up at the ceiling. the door opens and you sit up eagerly, meeting danielle with slightly watered eyes and a tinted pink nose.

“sorry about that…” she says shyly, her lips pursing in to a smile. “haerin and i had a little um, talk.”

“are you okay?” she steps close enough for you to put a hand on her cheek and feel the moisture from the remnants of tears. “were you crying?”

“it’s nothing,” she assures, turning to kiss your hand.

she moves to turn off the lamp on the bedside table before laying down next to you and scooting up so her head is on your shoulder. your arm finds it’s away around to push her closer and she snuggles into you. you make a move to kiss her forehead, hearing a soft hum when you keep your lips on her skin.

“hey, y/n?”

“yeah?”

“what would you do if you had little time to live?” you fall silent from her question, feeling your throat tighten up.

danielle feels a hand in her hair, your finger twirls a strand of it. “what’s with the question?”

“i’m just curious.”

“well,” you start, moving over so you can turn on your side and face your grilfriend fully. “i’d move to the beach,” you put a hand on her cheek, tracing patterns onto her skin. “and find my way from there.”

“really?”

“yeah.” you nod. “my parents died at the beach actually. they thought they could beat their fate if they were the happiest people on earth.” your voice gets softer and danielle focuses on your features closely. “they didn’t beat it, but they were still the happiest people until their fate. i’d like to be like that.”

“are you happy?” danielle asks, holding your hand tightly.

“of course i am.” your hand moves down to danielle’s shoulder and your palm rubs against it. “i think i’ve been the happiest i’ve ever been just after knowing you exist.”

“maybe i am your twin flame.” danielle jokes.

“maybe.” there’s only one way to know that, but you can’t ask to see danielle’s tattoo, because then she’d ask for yours and you couldn’t possibly show someone as lucky as her your destined date. “what would you do if you had little time?”

danielle wants to confess everything—the limited time she has left, the emotions eating her up since she found out she wouldn’t even make it to twenty. she wants to spill her heart, to tell you how she had planned to keep everyone she knew close and spend all the time she could with them. but now, all she wants is to be with you until fate decides her time is up.

but danielle doesn’t say any of that.

instead, she cups your cheek, her thumb brushing against your soft skin with tender care. she leans in, her breath warm against your face, and gently kisses your nose before scooting into your arms.

“i don’t know, maybe spend time with you a little more.”

–

time is running out, and you’re the only one who knows.

it’s less than three weeks until you’re gone, until you’re nothing but a body and a silent heart.

(unless something brutal happens to you, then you wouldn’t be just a body – you really hope you won’t be fated to some horror movie ending.)

you've been making a boatload of excuses, claiming you're too busy to head over to the shelter or too sick. you've even found ways to dodge dates and quality time with danielle, sometimes by mentioning hyein. and tutoring hyein is a whole other story, it’s become another casualty of your avoidance tactics, with frequent claims of not feeling well or having headaches—anything to stay cooped up in your room or sulking by the beach. you hate doing this, but you convince yourself it’ll make the inevitable separation less painful; everyone will thank you sooner or later.

in this time, you’ve burned yourself on the wok more than usual, two or three times in one workday. each time, mrs. lee hears you curse loudly. she sits you down repeatedly, her concerned eyes searching yours, asking if everything is alright. each time, you give her a shaky breath and a feeble shake of your head, unable to muster more than that.

your heart feels heavy with every excuse, every lie, and every burn. you hope that distancing yourself now will make the eventual farewell easier, but the weight of your decision only grows heavier. mrs. lee’s concern, danielle’s confusion, and hyein’s disappointment haunt you, but you push through, believing it’s for the best.

when you burn yourself three times and cut your index finger once, mrs. lee grabs you and sits you down right in the living room after work. she doesn’t bat an eye at hyein, who walks in on the scene of her grandmother standing across from you with her arms crossed, her expression a mix of anger and concern. instead, mrs. lee sends hyein to her room. surprisingly, hyein doesn’t talk back. she looks at you with worry, then slowly moves herself up the stairs and down the hallway to her room.

you lean against the counter behind you, gripping it tightly. the bandaid on your finger loosens.

"are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or are you going to keep bottling it up?" mrs. lee's voice is firm but gentle.

"nothing is wrong," you respond, your voice flat and unconvincing.

mrs. lee's eyes narrow slightly, her concern deepening. "don’t lie to me. i’ve seen you struggling. you’ve been out of it and now you’re hurting yourself more. i know you, you can handle cooking the hot dishes in your sleep, so what is wrong?”

your grip on the counter tightens as you avoid her gaze. "i’m fine. really."

she steps closer, her voice softening. "i care about you. whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. did you and danielle break up? is that what this is?”

“n-no, no. thank god no.” you feel a lump forming in your throat, but you stubbornly shake your head. "i just... i can’t talk about it."

mrs. lee sighs, her frustration evident, “no, i’m not letting you just–”

“i have less than three weeks to live.” you choke out, looking down at the ground and feeling your body go weak. the counter holds you up.

mrs. lee looks at you, utterly shocked. “what?”

“that’s it. i don’t have much time.” tears blur your vision as you look back at her, and mrs. lee looks at you with all kinds of emotion.

“are you serious?” she asks, and you nod, lifting up your shirt so that the ink on your upper rib is visible. you accidentally sob, tears falling down your cheek as mrs. lee reads the date.

you close your eyes and turn away, unable to even look at her. a few seconds later you feel arms around your body, like someone is hugging you, and open your eyes to see her hair. she’s hugging you tight, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, i’m sorry i just��”

“dear, no, no. it’s okay, it’s alright. everything is okay.”

“is it?” you ask in between a sob. “i’m so selfish…”

“everyone is when it comes to this.” she says, then turns to look at your clearly. she wipes away your tears, then places her hands on your shoulder. “my best cook has to retire soon…”

you giggle softly, her attempt at easing the tension working. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, it will all be alright.”

she hugs you again, and then you hear another sob coming from where the stairs are. hyein stands on the steps, holding the wooden railing with her hand covering her mouth and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“y/n,” hyein’s voice is shaky. “you’re dying soon?”

“hyein you weren’t supposed to–”

“are you really?”

you purse your lips and break away from her grandma, walking over to hug her. she hugs you back and sobs into you, her voice muffled into your shirt. i’m sorry.” you murmur, rubbing her back. “i’m really sorry, i’m so so sorry–”

“you idiot…” hyein mumbles. “is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“i’m sorry… i just didn’t want you to miss me.”

she parts from you and punches your shoulder, then wipes away her tears and sniffles. “i’d kill you for dying just like that, now we have to spend as much time we can.”

mrs. lee nods, looking at the two of you. “i’m firing you, you need to spend the most time you can.”

“hey wait– i really like this cooking gig, please don’t do that.”

“fine, two week notice.”

you manage to giggle even in the pressure of the moment, feeling the weight of your fate pushing down on you.

“okay, okay.”

hyein starts again, asking you with a concerned face, “and what about haerin? and especially your girlfriend?”

“i–” you lower your head. “i don’t want them to pity me, i just want to spend time with them normally. can you be the one to apologize for me?”

“wow y/n… you’re a terrible person.” hyein mumbles, her eyes starting to water again.

“i know, i’m sorry.”

she punches your shoulder again before hugging you. “i’m kidding. there’s nothing we can do, just promise me you’ll spend more time? no more saying you’re sick? maybe i’ll–” she sniffles, “--believe it on the last day if you say it though.”

you sob a little before hugging her tightly, humming in response. mrs. lee joins in and your arms wrap around both of them, all of you shedding tears.

–

haerin and danielle sit with jerry, who’s blinking slow and laying on the counter. danielle looks at him fondly, petting his fur.

“i don’t think he has much time left.” danielle informs, rubbing by his ears.

it’s ironic and almost perfect, danielle and (practically) her own dog dying soon.

haerin frowns, looking between the two.

“will you be okay?”

danielle smiles sadly, petting under his mouth. “we’ll meet again.”

haerin hums in response, petting jerry as well. “will we?” she asks suddenly, practically under her breath.

the younger girl feels an arm around her pulling her into a side hug. haerin gulps, hugging danielle tight.

“of course.”

silence follows as the three of them sit there together, no one says anything, jerry shuffles into danielle’s hand more, and all of them try to bear the fate that waits for them. haerin pulls away, looking at danielle with watery eyes.

“will you ever tell y/n? you know, that it’s soon?”

danielle shakes her head, then softly says, “i can’t put that weight on her. if i’m going to spend time with the love of my life, i want every moment to be happy from now on.” then danielle puts her hand on haerin’s shoulder, squeezing it tight. “and you don’t need to worry about me, okay? let’s spend time being happy.”

haerin doesn’t know what she’ll do without danielle, she doesn’t know what anyone in the town could do. if the sun had ceased to exist, their little town would still be radiant and lively just because danielle had been around.

–

hyein and haerin eat lunch by the arcade they always go to. the sun is shining down on them, making haerin sweat along her hairline and hyein fan herself with a plastic plate.

you’re gone in a week, and hyein is doing anything she can to prepare for it. she tries to keep herself happy and uplifted by going out with haerin, but it seems like haerin is dealing with her own thing. she’s usually quiet, but right now she’s dead silent, poking at her rice bowl.

“is everything oka–” hyein pauses when she watches haerin put her face in her hands, rubbing her face and groaning as her shoulders tense up. “what happened?” hyein questions, eyes widening.

“i hate these goddamn tattoos.”

“you don’t die for another like, thirty years haerin.”

“it’s not me.”

“who?”

haerin purses her lips and looks up at hyein, who’s gazing at her worriedly. haerin shakes her head, then sighs out, “danielle.”

“you told me before, is it that soon? already?” hyein starts to panic, not only are you done for soon, but even mo dani.

“she won’t tell me the exact date, i think in a week or two or–” haerin groans, putting her head down on the table. “--i don’t know! it’s just, i… i don’t know what to do.”

hyein bites the inside of her lip and pats haerin’s head, then says, “i know how you feel.”

she hears the older girl scoff lightly, “right.”

“y/n.”

haerin lifts her head up and looks at hyein intensely, then looks at her baffled. “what?” she practically chokes out, “y/n?”

“i shouldn’t tell you, but… her and danielle, it’s heartbreaking just thinking about it.”

“hey hey,” haerin snaps her fingers twice at hyein, “y/n is dying soon? are you serious?”

“in a week – less than i think.”

haerin sits there and processes all the information she’s just received before responding again, “should we tell them?” haerin asks, then stops to rethink. “actually, let’s not.”

“what?” hyein looks at her like she’s an idiot. “why not?”

“just let them be, the mention of death might make things worse for them. have you seen them, it’s like they were made for each other. what if y/n dies before dani? or the other way around? just let it be.”

hyein contemplates, staring at haerin worriedly again.

“fine,” the younger one sighs, “okay.”

–

you have a little over forty-eight hours until your time is up. you've spent every waking moment with those you care about, keeping your routine largely unchanged.

you still help hyein after school, hanging out with her at the little comic and antique store whenever you have time. the two of you take as many pictures as you can with her grandpa's old film camera, creating memories that will last. hyein wants to keep a piece of you with her always, something to look back on when she misses you. sometimes, haerin joins you, even coming over before her shifts to spend time with you both. these moments, surrounded by the people you love, fill you with a bittersweet joy. you're cherishing every second, knowing that your time is running out, and hoping these memories will live on in the hearts of those you leave behind.

along with hyein, you spend lots of time with her grandma. the two of you talk late at night and in the mornings, mrs. lee shares more stories from her youth and memorable moments of hyein. she talks about her late husband more often, revealing how much he influenced hyein's playful personality. you still help cook for the regulars despite mrs. lee telling you to just relax, but you love what you do – serving their meals and satisfying people until your favorite face comes into view after the bell above the restaurant door jingles.

you still eat breakfast with danielle, though lately, you've been choosing to sit outside to people-watch while you both soak in the sun. sometimes, the people-watching turns into dani-watching. you find yourself trying to memorize every feature and detail of her face—from the curve of her nose to the crinkle in her eyes when an animal passes by, the small beauty marks on her cheek, and the faint freckles on her skin.

time is running out, and you can only pray that you'll be able to carry the memory of the person you love with you even after you die. wherever you go, you want to keep danielle tattooed in your mind, every detail of her face etched into your memory.

even as you two walk along the boardwalk, your eyes are focused on danielle. she’s looking in the distance, the sun is going to set soon.

before you know it, she’s turning back to you, catching you staring.

“something on my face?”

“no, no.” you mumble, putting your hands in your pockets and smiling down at jerry, who is struggling to walk in a straight line. you smile, then admit, “i’m very fond of your face.”

danielle giggles, then locks her fingers with yours. “i feel the same way about you miss l/n.”

“i’m very glad miss marsh.”

“would love to be your mrs. someday.” danielle mutters shyly, then looks up at you and you swear her eyes are shimmering. “if you’d let me.”

your heart simultaneously flutters and cracks into a few pieces. you move her hand up to your lips, kissing the back of it and saying, “i wouldn’t want anything else but for you to be mrs. for eternity.”

“mhm, that sounds like a dream.”

the two of you walk in silence for a moment longer, comfortable beside each other with jerry’s steps getting all jumbled up. danielle smiles sadly at him, knowing he doesn’t have much time left. you look at him, then at danielle, feeling the exact same way.

danielle feels you squeeze her hand tighter, then her gaze shifts to you. you look her in the eyes for five seconds and don’t say a single thing, the only thing that registers in your mind is that she’s the person youve needed your whole life.

maybe if you had more time you’d spend every morning having breakfast with her in mrs. lee’s restaurant, and on your days off she could even take you to one of her favorite spots. if you had more time you’d spend more time tracing patterns onto her skin and leaving gentle kisses there too, and you’d give anything just to have one more day having a stupid, meaningless conversation with her too.

she’s all that you’ve been searching for, and you don’t recall searching for anything in the first place.

“what?” she asks, “are you okay?”

“i love you so much.” you say suddenly, catching her offguard. “like, i’d look for you in a room full of hundreds of people, no doubt.”

“what’s with the sudden–” you peck her lips cutting her off and pausing her in place. “--affection…”

“i just love you, so much, always.”

“are you okay?”

“just lovesick.” you sigh, tightening your jaw.

danielle shakes her head, looking at you confusedly but smiling regardless. her smile could be the sun and you’d still stare at it until you’re blinded for life – not that you have that much life left anyway.

“alright silly. i love you even more, you know?”

“no way.”

“i’m not going to argue with you because i’m right.” danielle chuckles, her hand moves to caress the base of your neck. “i love you forever and wherever and always.”

“likewise, but ten times more.”

“you can’t multiply infinity by ten.”

“well i just did it in my mind.”

“i’m gonna blow you up in my mind.”

“yeah but not before you think of me all lovingly.” danielle shoves your shoulder hearing the remark, you simply laugh.

–

it’s time, and you’d rather die than – well, die.

you hadn’t been able to sleep, staying up until the sun started to rise and sleep eventually took over. you made a small prayer in your head that you wouldn’t die in your sleep or due to staying up so late – or early for that matter – just so you could see everyone at least one more time.

you wake a few hours after you had passed out and the day had already gone by, it was already three hours afternoon and everyone – haerin, hyein, and mrs. lee – was looking at you worriedly as you woke up.

before you can process any of it, haerin and hyein shake you awake even more, you jolt up and almost hit your head on the bedframe.

“w-what? how long was i out, what time is it? what’s happening – am i dead?”

“y/n,” haerin says quickly, face full of worry. her brows are furrowed so deeply that more wrinkles than you can count on one hand are visible, and the rest of the bunch looks just as concerned. “it’s storming outside, it’s crazy.”

“is it?”

hyein grabs your hand, then nods. “danielle, she’s out there.”

you stand up immediately upon hearing this, eyes widening as you gasp, “what? is she crazy?”

“jerry ran out, he’s missing. we couldn’t find him and danielle went out to find him. it’s pouring, and it seems like it’ll thunder or – i don’t know, something!” haerin says hurriedly, looking at you all distressed and bother. “i don’t know where she is, i– we don’t know what to do.”

“where did you see her run off?” you ask.

“towards the beach–” hyein gets cuts off when you hug her and the other two tightly, you practically pull them into your arms, it’ll probably be the last time they’re in them anyway. hyein watches a tear flow down your cheek as well as your bottom lip trembling, looking at you worriedly. her eyes widen just as yours did when she watches you tear away and head towards the door. “--y/n, no way you’re going out in this–”

“hyein.” you’re crying, you’re crying so hard and your chest is tightening so hard that you’re terrified you might just collapse right then and there. “i don’t have much– hell, i don’t have any time left. today is the day, there’s nothing stopping me. if i die, it might as well be because i’m searching for the light of my life.”

the three look at you with tears streaming down their skin, mrs. lee sobs softly before nodding in understanding. hyein looks at you in disbelief, and haerin mirrors the younger girls expression.

you purse your lips before heading out the door, through the restaurant, and finally outside.

it’s raining like crazy, you can barely see. there’s no way danielle went out in these conditions.

an umbrella flies past you and you have to jump out of the way so it doesn’t hit you – there’s no way you’d let an umbrella kill you.

you start running as fast as you can toward the beach, ignoring the slight burn of the raindrops hitting you harder now that you’re running against the flow. you run as fast as you can and ignore the burn in your legs from not warming up, the only thing in your mind is danielle. she has to be crazy.

you reach the beach in less than ten minutes, huffing like crazy as you scan the area. the rain has died down just slightly, but you’re still soaking and getting hit by droplets falling down aggressively.

in the corner of your eye, you catch someone running along the boardwalk and hear a familiar voice calling out “jerry!”

danielle.

immediately, you run towards the sound and barely visible figure, then bump into her accdientally, making the two of you nearly trip and fall over on the ground. danielle squints her eyes at you, then widens them and yells, “y/n?”

“are you fucking crazy?” you shout, “it’s crazy out here, why would you run out like that?”

you can’t really tell in the rain, but you manage to catch how red her nose is and the slight pink in her eyes. she’s been crying.

“j-jerry, he just… he ran out. y/n, he doesn’t have much time, i– i can’t–”

the two of you turn your heads when you hear a bark in the distance, looking toward there the sound had come from and doing your best to find out what caused it. danielle starts to run towards the beach, and you immediately dash right after her, following without thinking.

“jerry?” she calls out at the top of her lungs, running closer to where the water is. “jerry!”

in the distance, you make out a small dog like figure. it’s jerry, there’s no doubt about it. the color of the furm the snout, and the familiar bark all give it away; there’s no way it’s not jerry.

she starts to take off her shoes, and before she can dart into the water – the water the splashes against the sand roughly, the waves getting bigger and bigger – you stop her, grabbign her wrist tightly and holding her back.

“are you insane?” you question her, brows creased in disbelief, worry, and care. “you’ll drown.”

“jerry is going to die.”

“danielle, you’ll die.”

“i know.”

you can’t believe her, she’s soaked and her hair is almost covering one of her eyes. she tries to loosen the grip you have on her with her other hand, but you don’t budge. instead, you look at her, trembling.

“what do you mean ‘you know’?”

danielle shakes her head, desperately pushing you away. “let me go! please y/n, jerry is–”

“danielle what do you mean?”

the split second you loosen your grip, danielle manages to break free. she darts towards the ocean, running into the water and disappearing without giving you an explanation.

you bite your lip, then run after her. you’re dying today anyway, and if it’s for danielle, you’d be more than happy to perish like this.

danielle is desperately swimming towards jerry, who’s already much deeper in the ocean past where most people can even swim. it’s probably meters deep, and yet, danielle is still swimming relentlessly, you follow her and manage to nearly catch up somehow, trying to stop her.

“danielle!” water fills your mouth as you call for her, she turns back to see you struggling and hesitates. “p-please–” a wave hits you and you try to fight back up, spitting out the mix of rain and salty water. “you’ll die–”

“y/n!” she yells, worriedly swimming towards you and managing to grab your hand.

she does her best to pull you above the water, but oyu’re heavier and it almost sinks her down too. you manage to fight back up, holding onto her hand tightly as you fight for air.

“y-you’re an idiot.” you gasp, breathing in and out deeply. “you’re going to die.”

“why did you follow me?” danielle asks, doing her best to keep her head above the water. “you’ll die.”

“danielle,” you give up, letting your body slightly relax as every emotion you’ve ever felt hits you in the face. “i know. i’m dying today and if it’s for you then i’ll gladly do so.”

“what?”

“july 22nd, danielle. there’s a tattoo on my upper rib that has today’s date on it, i’m gone today, it’s inevitable.”

the rain water hits her face and makes her fight for air, but even while she does so, the shock on her face is clear as day.

“are you serious?”

“yes! i need you to live on even if i can’t, please, just–”

she sobs, you hear her so clearly and you’re taken aback.

“you idiot! me too.”

“what?”

“july 22nd, 2024.” she says plainly, “on my upper left rib, y/n.”

you can’t speak – or breathe for that matter, but maybe thats just the water filling up your nose and mouth as the waves get worse. somehow, you laugh defeatedly, then smile at her.

“we’re going to die together,” you manage to say, almost happily. “danielle, we’re–”

she silences you with a look, swimming closer until her arms wrap around you. without a word, she kisses you as if it's the last thing you'll ever do. miraculously, there's no taste of seawater—just something sweet, tender, and life-saving. the kiss is deep and enveloping, making you feel as if you're floating on air rather than nearly drowning in water. time seems to stand still as her lips convey everything words cannot, leaving you breathless and profoundly connected.

before you can fully process the moment, a wave crashes over you both. instead of fighting for air, you close your eyes tighter, wrapping your arms around danielle, holding her as if you’ll never let go. she mirrors your actions, clinging to you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do. when you part for a brief second, neither of you opens your eyes, the seawater will make it feel like your pupils are burning. danielle rests her head in the crook of your neck as you two tumble int he water, the world around you dissolves, leaving just the two of you holding onto each other until everything fades into black.

...

you’re at the beach for your sixteenth birthday, somewhere warm and nice. your parents found a great deal online, the place was a four hour train ride and the views along the way were wonderful..

there’s no tattoo on your rib, and your parents are only absent because they’re fetching you ice cream from the hotel lobby—not because they’re gone forever. you stare out at the sea, feeling the sun kiss your features, hoping the tint on each peak of your face won’t be too harsh. you made sure to apply extra sunscreen anyway.

hugging your knees, you hum along to a chet baker song playing on your phone. suddenly, with no warning at all, your earbuds are yanked from your ears, and a dog is all over you, licking your shoulder, then your cheek, and pulling away to look at you with its tongue out and tail wagging happily.

you jump from the unexpected arrival but quickly dissolve into giggles, reaching out to pet the dog. its joyful energy is contagious, and you find yourself laughing and playing along, forgetting everything else as you bask in the simple, pure joy of the moment.

the dog seems oddly familiar, as if you’d met it before. you shrug it off, there’s tons of dogs that look like the one in front of you.

however, there aren’t many – probably zero – people that look like the girl running up towards you, quickly moving her dog away from you and apologizing.

“i’m so sorry!” she looks about your age, plus, her voice is really nice to the ears. “jerry, you need to learn some manners!”

the dog whines, rubbing against the girls legs and hiding behind her.

the girl is wearing a floral top and striped shorts, her hair long and flowing past her chest, moving perfectly in the breeze like a scene from a movie. her hair is dark and wavy, framing her face beautifully. she looks at you curiously, her large eyes framed by long, pretty eyelashes. words fail you, but she beats you to the punch.

"you have pretty eyes," she states, seemingly unfazed by the oddity of the situation. "have we met before?"

suddenly, you feel shy. this very pretty girl with a very sweet voice has just complimented you, and it seems like she knows you. maybe she’s the daughter of your parents’ friends, someone who’s heard of you before? you don’t really know.

you struggle to find your voice, but finally manage a response. "i– i’m sorry… i don’t think we’ve met.” as soon as it comes out of your mouth, you want to take it right back because you’re observing her a little closer, finding more details of her face that stand out and make you blush a little more and realize that she really does seem familiar. you can’t tell where you’ve seen her, but there’s a strange familiarity.

“hm, i see.” she smiles warmly, her eyes lighting up as she puts her hand out. "i’m danielle.” she introdcuues, then points to her dog. “this is jerry.”

“my name is y/n.”

“your name is really nice.”

“yours is too.”

the two of you stare at each other, both seemingly trying to decipher the strange click you felt upon meeting. her dog, now less shy, nudges you, making you laugh and pet him adoringly.

"my dog seems to like you," danielle mumbles, "that’s odd. he’s shy with everyone but haerin..."

"i’m just as surprised as you are," you say, tilting your head away as the dog suddenly jumps up and starts to lick your collarbone. "my friend hyein is much better with animals; they love her."

"well, you must be special then."

you don't respond, instead smiling and patting down a space for this mysterious girl to sit next to you. she smiles back, then jerry sits between you two, wagging his tail and looking between you both proudly, as if this meeting were his plan all along.

...

everyone had questioned how young you two got married, but everyone who actually knew you – hyein, haerin, and everyone else you’ve mingled with closely along the way – know that the timing is more than perfect, maybe even too late.

(hyein still scolds you for postponing your proposal because you didn’t have the guts to do it.)

you’re twenty and have been married to danielle for six months. there's a ring on your finger, and she’s your mrs., your lover, your wife—your everything. she’s the reason you’re up early on a sunday morning, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving her alone in bed. but it doesn’t matter because you’re busy doing her laundry and opening the tin of new coffee beans from australia that danielle insisted on buying at three in the morning when they were on sale.

(“they’re roasted in my hometown! please…”

“the shipping is over half of the actual tin…” you sigh, but danielle gives you puppy eyes and you give in. “fine.”

she kisses you on the lips, almost knocking you over even as you sit beside each other on the bed. “i love you.”

it sounds like a prayer coming from her.)

the scent of fresh laundry fills the living room as you fold her bottoms and hang her clothes. suddenly, you feel arms wrapping around your waist from behind and a kiss on the nape of your neck. danielle's presence warms you, her embrace making the mundane task feel special.

“morning,” she murmurs, her breath tickling your skin. you lean back into her, feeling the love and contentment radiate between you. the laundry can wait; in this moment, all that matters is the connection you share, the life you've built together, and the promise of many more mornings just like this.

“well good morning mrs. marsh.”

“good morning mrs. l/n.” danielle giggles into your clipped up hair, then sighs happily. “you smell like detergent, i want you.”

you let out a pftt and turn around to put your hand on her cheek and kiss her forehead. she hums and attempts to kiss your lips, but you pause her, putting a hand over her mouth.

“did you brush?”

a muffled, whiny “yes” is heard from her before she pushes her hand and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. she smells like toothpaste and lavender, you love it – you love her.

“hey sweetheart,” she starts, twirling the strand that pokes out of the claw clip. “i had the craziest dream.”

“yeah? what was it about.” you ask, then part from her to fold one of the jeans danielle had gifted you when you two were seventeen.

“you were in it and we had matching tattoos.”

“is that so?”

she hums, then continues, “and the tattoos were on the same place – upper rib – but on opposite sides. it had the date july 22nd, 2024 inked on it. apparently that was when we died.”

“that’s odd, we got married that day.”

“that’s what i was thinking! i don’t know… it was such a weird dream.”

you stack your bottoms on top of each other and grab danielle’s hand, leading her over to the kitchen of your shared apartment. “tell me more, but first–” you grab your weighed out grinds of coffee and put them in your coffee puck. “what would you like?”

“latte with almond milk please – hot.”

“on it mrs.” you grin, then kiss her cheek before getting to work. “continue with your dream, please.”

“right.” she hops up on the counter and dangles her feet. you smile at her wavy, disheleved bedhead still present as she goes on, “we fell in love, had a dog named jerry, and then we drowned.”

you pause in your place after putting the puck in the machine and pressing ‘brew,’ then turn to face your wife with a baffled expression.

“oh.”

“i know right! and then it switched to something else where we met on the beach, your eyes were still pretty, and the same dog in the last dream made me run into you. it’s like it switched from one universe to another.”

you giggle, walking over to place your hands on the counter. she wraps her legs around your waist, then holds your face in her hands.

“that’s crazy,” you nearly whisper, starstruck. “wow.”

“i know! oh my gosh… i think those multiverse movies you’re making me watch are catching up.”

“or maybe we’re in love and meant to be in each universe…” you half-tease, but all of you hopes it’s true. “we’re like our own angsty romance movie or something.”

danielle rolls her eyes and you laugh before heading over to finish her morning coffee. she blows her drink a few times, then sips, closing her eyes, evidently satisfied with her beverage. you smile and subconsciously rub your ring with your thumb, hopping up on the counter to sit with her and dangle your feet as she leans her head on your shoulder.

you’d love to be with danielle in every universe, even if it were for a few months, years, or even days. any time with her would be a blessing.

she kisses your knuckles and it feels like you’re floating, like there’s nothing to worry about. as long as she’s beside you and in your life, whichever one that is, you know that you’ll be content regardless of any circumstance.

#kpop x reader #newjeans danielle #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #newjeans imagines #danielle marsh #danielle x reader #danielle marsh x reader #mo jihye x reader #mo jihye #newjeans mo jihye

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lilacs-stars · 6 months ago

Text

burning passion of twilight

this is part 2, recommended you read part 1 first! (to avoid confusion) pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is ariel's daughter and a mermaid) SUMMARY: as an enemy of the infamous pirate captain starts making advances on you, you are caught between the waves of your lover and the beaming rays of light given to you by another. GENRE: yandere, quite a bit of angst, comforting fluff at the end, a touch of spice CW: a bit of cursing, mentions of violence (sword fight, small injuries, threats), mentions of blood (just a few cuts), lots of hurt moments (from arguing), reader gets harassed, jealousy, possessiveness, suggestive material at the end, also uses of the word 'lover' instead of boyfriend or girlfriend because it fit the setting more WC: 5.5k (did I go overboard? ...maybe)

A/N: me? obsessed with this man? yes, yes I am. the things I felt when writing this...ahhh we love ourselves a jealous man. shoutout to everyone who read and supported part 1, I really didn't think people would actually enjoy reading my writing loll. I know this one is kinda long, so please bear with me. also thanks once again to the anon who requested this, this was a super fun idea to do! all feedback and suggestions are highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts!

“…and then, out of nowhere, BAM! The entire thing explodes!” cries a boy not much older than you, with ginger hair and dressed in a simple green button-up shirt.

Your entire table erupts in laughter, with you sparing a small giggle. It is early morning, and you are sitting with your usual group in the dining hall. You’re only close friends with a few of them, and merely friendly acquaintances with the others. After all, you aren’t really the extroverted, talkative type. Not like the boy retelling the story of how he pranked the headmaster last quarter, somehow with the same enthusiasm as the first ten times he told it.

Peter Pan is one of the members of your large group that you aren’t really close with. Although he is considered to be on the “good” side of the hero-villain spectrum, he sure has his mischievous side.

He is also incredibly extroverted, chatting up anyone he lays his eyes on. Which is why you've always chalked up his attempts to start a conversation with you to his gregarious personality, and nothing more.

Still, you try your best not to get too close to him. Although James has never directly said anything about him to you, you can sense that there’s some…tension between them. Although he tries to act discreet, you’ve still caught on to the way James glowers at Pan whenever you’re with your group—although he doesn’t take much action, as villains and heroes don’t really mix. How he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in tight whenever he catches sight of Pan, and even the few times he’s used his hook to pull you into a kiss right in front of the person who appears to be his enemy. Not to mention how he always happens to find you with some urgent matter or other that desperately needs your attention whenever you and Pan are having—or trying to have—a conversation. Although, now that you think about it, James does do that quite often whenever you speak to any guy besides him.

Pan catches your eye from across the table, and you can tell he’s waiting for some sort of reaction for his latest joke. You give a polite smile, not really knowing what they had been talking about anyways, and turn away to chat with one of your friends. Whatever’s going on between those two, you don’t care, and you sure don’t want to ruffle any feathers.

Your morning class this semester is Potions and Elixirs 101, in which you happen, by some cruel stroke of fate, to be seated next to the one and only Peter Pan. What is especially annoying about this class—or rather, about your table partner—is that you always end up doing most of the work yourself, being the only one out of your duo that actually listens to instructions.

The teacher explains how today, your class will be making Shanty Serum, an anti-seasickness remedy. After he goes over the requirements a dozen times, you finally set off on the mission of brewing the potion, which is always done in a pair with your table mate.

Everything is going fine, of course; you crush the siren teeth into a fine powder, and Pan, following your careful instructions, manages to brew the kraken saliva until it comes to a soft boil. Just as you reach the final steps, you crinkle your nose as a strange smoky odor fills your senses. You look up from your textbook to see your potion, which you worked so hard on, bubbling and overflowing from the cauldron.

“Ah, I’m so sorry professor! I could have sworn I only put in two unicorn hairs!” Pan cries, jumping back to avoid getting purple goo all over himself. You shoot him a glare, and he adds on, “And I’m sorry to you too, Y/N! I really am!”

You sigh and shake your head, flipping through your textbook to find the page where it explains how to counter excess unicorn hair. Through a bit of luck and a decent amount of skill, you manage to save your potion and not get a terrible grade on it, either.

The last few minutes of class, Pan walks up to you. “Look, Y/N, I’m really sorry about earlier. I know you tried really hard to get the potion right, and I just messed it up. God, I’m such a clutz.” He scratches the back of his head as he looks down at his shoes sheepishly. “Hey, but if you’ll let me, I can make it up to you! Say, you got any plans Friday night?”

His eyes light up as he looks at you with a puppy-dog gaze, and your heart melts a little at his attempt for redemption. But then again, you did promise yourself to keep a good distance from him…

“I-I’m, uhm, well, I was planning to study that night,” you say, which isn’t really much of a lie. “I mean, with midterms coming up and whatnot,” you tack on with a bit of an awkward laugh.

“Saturday night?” Pan pushes, eyes still alight with hope.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m, uh, I’m going out with friends that night. But maybe some other time?” you flash him an apologetic smile, guilt gnawing at your insides as a result of pushing him away. Honestly, you don’t know why James has it out for the poor guy. He seems like the friendly sort to you.

You quickly duck away and move to the other side of the classroom, deciding to meet up with some friends to get away from the stifling silence between the two of you. Deep down, you knew you wouldn't be able to resist Pan’s offer if you had stayed behind to see the disappointed, rejected look on his face. Still, you couldn’t help but glance back at his direction, feeling endlessly shameful for your cold actions.

You thought that would be the end of that, but little did you realize, in that moment, how wrong you were.

School finally lets out and the afternoon rolls around again, which means you stand patiently waiting in the courtyard again for James. You pace around the water fountain, fingers lightly tracing along the rim, humming a tune under your breath.

This fountain has always reminded you of the sea, the rolling waves of the ocean, how the cold water brushes against your skin while it hugs you in a tight embrace. Just thinking about swimming makes your legs ache to morph back into a tail and take off into the blue depths. The worst part about going to the Academy, in your opinion, is that it’s so far from any bodies of water that the only times you get to finally enjoy yourself in your mermaid form is when you’re off for the holidays.

Just as you make your way halfway around the fountain, you see something move on the other side of the water out of the corner of your eye. “Y/N?” a voice calls out.

You walk back around the fountain to be met with… “Pan?” you ask, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I saw you come this way after school, and um, I’ve been feeling really bad the whole day for how I screwed up in P&E earlier,” he explains earnestly. “And so, I was thinking, I really want to make sure that I don’t mess up like that again. For both your sake, and my grades’.” He gives a little chuckle at his joke, before straightening his face out again.

“So, uhm, I was wondering, would you be willing to help me out? You don’t have to fully tutor me or anything, but maybe help me study and give me a few tips?”

There it is again. That spark of hope in his eyes. And honestly, how could you turn him down twice? After how sincerely he apologized earlier, and now with how he’s still thinking of you and trying to prevent himself from causing more trouble. You may have your priorities when it comes to relationships, but you still have morals, too. And there is absolutely no way you can reject him again, especially when he’s so desperate to improve.

“Well…yeah, all right. I’ll help you out,” you say, trying to force a smile on your face.

Pan beams, excitement lighting up his features. “Wow, really? Thanks so much, Y/N! You won’t regret it, I swea—”

Pan’s eyes quickly dart to a point above your head, perhaps catching a glimpse of something behind you. Whatever the cause, he stops dead in the middle of his sentence, face dropping. He goes pale for a second, before morphing his features into a hard and cold gaze. Shocked, you turn around to see what could have caused such a sudden change in his demeanor.

And lo and behold, behind you stands a dark, glowering James, still half-concealed by the shadows behind him. He holds Pan’s cold gaze menacingly with a dark, furious, yet somehow misleadingly calm look of his own. Then, with no warning, he stomps towards you, ensnaring your arm within his hook as he drags you away. You barely catch his grumbled “Come on, we’re leaving” as you stumble backwards from his tug, practically running to keep up with his wide strides.

He leads you down a number of empty corridors and doesn’t let you go until you finally reach a deserted staircase. The second he stops hauling you away from the courtyard, you yank your arm back to your side, panting from the difficulty of keeping up with him.

James spins sharply on his heel, angry glare locked with your confused, half-mad, half-hurt gaze.

“Care to tell me what the hell all that was about, love?” he snarls. Darkness swirls around in his vicious eyes, deep and unrelenting like the crashing waves of the ocean, and equally as violent.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” you spit back.

“What the hell does Peter Pan want to do with you?”

“First of all, he’s my partner in Potions,” you reply heatedly, trying your best to hold back the angry tears you can feel already forming in your eyes. “And he was asking if I could help him study. As an apology for messing up earlier today. What’s so wrong with that?”

James laughs darkly, muttering, “Damn it, that bastard,” under his breath. He rocks his head back and forth, pairing it with a wicked, twisted smile that sends cold chills down your spine.

“I don’t understand what’s so wrong with that!” you cry out, feeling hot tears already start to trickle down your face.

“Don’t you see?” spits James, taking a step towards you and waving his hook wildly in some form of gesture. “He’s trying to steal you from me!”

At this, you recoil, blinking slowly. You can feel the emotions simmering in you, deep down. The calm before the storm.

“Steal me? From you? Steal me?” you ask, the emotions and fury building inside you like a rising wave. You take a step back from him, your voice rising.

“Look, Pan and I may not be mates, but I know him well,” James snaps, clearly pissed. “And I can tell you right now that he doesn’t have any good intentions towards you.”

“Steal me? Like I’m some sort of treasure to be claimed? Like I’m an object?” you cry out, exasperated and relentless.

Something flashes across James’s eyes for a split second, some emotion or thought that is rather undecipherable. His features soften slightly, reminiscent of how he was when you sang for him under the moonlight not so long ago. As if his rational mind is finally catching up to his emotional words, his face falls, furrowed brows loosen a bit, and the cold anger in his eyes gives way to a more tender side of him. Maybe if you looked hard enough, you could also see a hint of regret laced in there.

“No, I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that,” he calls out after you. But it’s too late; you’re already running down the empty hall, away from James. Away from all your problems.

You’re half-asleep when you show up to Potions and Elixirs 101 the next morning. After your fight yesterday with James, you simply couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. It’s the first time you two fought like this, and you honestly don’t know what to do or how to feel. Sure, you’re still angry at him for the way he acted, but at the same time, you miss his comforting embrace, his soft laughs, the touch of his skin against yours.

You sit down at your assigned table, trying your best to ignore the ginger next to you. Today, you’re taking notes on a lecture the teacher is giving, so you thankfully won’t have to do much talking to Pan.

You make sure to listen as intently as possible to the professor, wanting to fill your mind with something other than thoughts of your argument earlier. You pay attention to taking notes so closely that you nearly forget all about your problems. That is, until you’re reminded again at the end of class, as you’re putting your things away alongside everyone else.

“Hey, Y/N?” Pan asks from beside you.

“Yeah?” you reply, feigning nonchalance. You make sure to keep your head down as you stuff your notebook into your bag. Oh, please let this be about the homework we were just assigned and nothing else.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday.”

Well, damn it.

You think about giving a quick response to end the conversation, but in all honesty, you don’t really know if he expects you to accept his apology, or give one of your own. You aren't quite sure who is in the wrong here, but you are sure of one thing: saying the wrong thing will not do you any favors in solving your problems.

“What about yesterday?” You try to keep your tone light, as if it’s all water under the bridge, but you can’t help the apprehensiveness that leaks into your voice.

“Well, I wanted to apologize if I was interrupting something between you two back there,” Pan starts.

You give him a small, apologetic smile, “No, don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting anything,”

“In that case…” Pan runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a quick exhale, before locking eyes with you and asking, “Why are you still with him?”

His blunt question startles you, sending your mind reeling for a response. “I-I don’t know…I just am,” you say, wishing this conversation would be over already. You had never been a big fan of difficult questions that made you doubt everything you knew, or thought you knew, about yourself.

“He treats you terribly. I’ve seen the way he acts. He’s a terrible lover, Y/N.”

You turn to face Pan directly, a defensive glint in your eye at his accusatory tone. “No, he’s not!” You turn away again as you mumble a small, “And he’s not my lover.”

At this, Pan quirks an eyebrow and gives you a look with a very obvious meaning behind it. “Oh please, have you never seen how he is around you? Of course he’s your lover.” Without missing a beat, Pan tacks on, “And a shitty one at that.”

You huff angrily, but you can’t think of anything to shoot back at him besides blatant denials. Pan must have taken this as an offer to continue, because he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your upper arm.

“I’m saying this because I care about you, Y/N. You deserve someone a lot better than the likes of James Hook. Someone who will treat you right, take you out on dates whenever you want, and proudly walk around in public with your hand in theirs. Not someone who only meets up with you after school so nobody sees and acts like you don’t exist half the time.”

Your anger only grows at his words, knowing that his accusations aren’t true and that James does care about you…right? Because underneath the part of you that is always ready to defend James entirely and completely, is a part of you that doubts it, doubts him. It’s always been there, lingering in the back of your mind ever since your unusual relationship started to blossom. And now, with a new layer of hurt and confusion having been peeled back during your fight last night, that part of you wondered, deep down, if Pan was right.

“You need a better lover, Y/N,” Pan continues. “Someone who truly cares about you. Someone…someone like me.”

Your eyes blow wide at his revelation as your mouth parts slightly in shock. You take a step backwards, shrugging off Pan’s hand as you stumble away from him.

“Wait, please, just hear me out,” he pleads. “Just give me one chance. One chance to prove myself to you. You gave Hook a chance when you started trusting him, didn’t you? And he’s a villain. So why can’t you give me a chance? You won’t regret it, I promise.” He moves closer to you and you keep inching away, until your back collides with a wall and you realize that you have nowhere to run.

Pan continues forward, your fear skyrocketing at his increasing proximity. “Please?” he begs. “I could treat you right. So much better than Hook.”

He finally reaches you, standing far closer than you would have normally let him, or anyone else, for that matter, as he cups your cheek with his left hand. Truth be told, it feels nice to sense warm flesh on your skin instead of the cold, harsh metal of James’s hook. But you shake that thought away almost instantly, chastising yourself for, even for a moment, putting Pan above James.

Pan places his free hand on the wall next to your head and leans in even closer. “Please?” he whispers, his warm breath fanning across your cheek.

The feeling of his exhale, paired with his natural scent that you only smell now when he’s this close, takes you back to that day when you first met James. He had leaned in too, whispering in your ear. You had felt his breath on your skin, breathed in his scent.

You feel an odd sense of deja vu, but for some reason, this interaction causes your heart to race out of pure fear, rather than the exhilarating rush you felt when you were with James. The realization causes you to snap out of your trance and go into full-on panic mode. “N-no, I’m sorry, I…”

Pan growls, not backing away. “Come one! How come you gave a villain a chance and you won’t give me one? That’s not fair!”

Your breathing quickens in pace, the panic settling over you and dragging you deep under like a wave at sea. Your palms start sweating profusely, and you can hear your heart racing a thousand miles a minute. You’re pretty sure this is what people mean when they mention one’s fight or flight response.

“No! Just, just leave me alone!” you cry, ducking under his arm and rushing away from him just as the bell rings. You run into the hallway, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

You finally make it to the dining hall, plopping down at a table far away from your usual spot. You don’t care if you have to eat alone; anything to get away from Pan. Your mind is already wandering to thoughts of how to convince your Potions and Elixirs teacher to let you switch seats when you notice a lot of commotion next to the entrance of the dining hall.

People have started crowding around the doors and murmuring to each other. Curious, you get up from your seat, wandering over to see what’s causing the commotion. As you near, you hear distant shouting and the sound of metallic clinking. You move even closer still, and finally catch snippets of people’s conversations.

“...fighting…”

“over…girl…” “Wait, who’s winning?”

“...did you see that?” “Oh my god…he’s gonna kill him!”

You try to stand up straight to get a look at what's causing the commotion, but the large crowd that has amassed blocks everything from view. “What’s going on?” you ask, not really to anyone in particular.

“Didn’t you hear?” a short, round boy, with big glasses to match his wide eyes answers. You recognize him as Smee from some of your classes. “James Hook is fighting a duel against Peter Pan!”

James…fighting…what? You blink in absolute disbelief. There is no way this is happening right now.

You manage to push your way to the front of the crowd, albeit not without many disgruntled mumbles thrown your way, until you get a clear view of the corridor in front of the dining hall.

You stand there, petrified, as you watch. Hell, it is really happening. James and Pan each have their swords unsheathed and are violently swinging them at each other’s heads, parrying the other’s attacks with deafening clashes of steel.

“You bastard!” James yells, taking another swing at Pan.

Pan jumps back, floating a few feet in the air as he does so, with a laugh. “Oh please, all I wanted to do was treat her right. Unlike you.”

James grits his teeth, countering Pan’s blow with one of his own. “You tried to steal my girl!”

Pan rolls his eyes, continuing the back-and-forth between their swords. “Your girl? As she said herself, you’re not even her lover.” James ducks down to avoid Pan’s latest attack. “Ha, how amusing indeed.” A dark glint shines in his eye as he lets out a cold and malicious laugh, before charging forward once again. “Of course I’m her lover, you bilge-sucking scoundrel! She belongs to me!”

Your eyes grow impossibly wider at those words. It shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you as it does; after all, it’s not like you and James haven’t been acting like a couple for the past few months. But still, you had managed to convince yourself that it was nothing serious, since he had never once directly talked about what you were. And hearing him say it out loud…declaring to the whole school that you were his…it made your heart feel unspeakable things.

“Well, you sure as hell don’t act that way,” Pan bites back, nicking James’s cheek. James recoils for a second, raising his hook to his face and wiping at the gash. He looks down at it, and from your front-row seat you can see the blood smeared against the glistening metal.

James looks back up at Pan, raises his cutlass, and resumes the fight with a new vigor. Every hit more violent than the last, every offensive move aiming at a critical point. “I’m gonna kill you!” James yells as he lands a blow on Pan’s right arm.

This gash seems rather deep—far deeper than the one previously inflicted on James—the blood already leaking out and staining Pan’s sleeve. He winces and steps back, but continues the fight.

You stand there, motionless, too afraid to do anything. Maybe a braver person than you would step in, tell them to stop fighting. But your feet remain planted to the floor, your jaw aching from being clenched so hard as you pray for no one to get seriously hurt.

Pan parries one of James’s attacks and does a quick spin, rapidly gaining momentum with his sword as he turns around and aims the blade…

…directly at James’s head.

A small whimper escapes your throat as the roar of metal hitting metal echoes through the hall. You gasp, heart in your hands, as your eyes take a moment to register the scene in front of you.

James has caught Pan’s blade in the curve of his hook, holding it just inches away from his head. Their arms tremble with strain, with Pan trying to break James’s defense and slash through his neck, and James fighting to prevent him from doing so. They lock eyes, an endless, unspoken conversation passing between them in that moment. Pan’s sword inches closer to James’s head, whose back is bent as he struggles to hang on.

With a sudden swoosh, James yanks his hook in a downward motion, spinning Pan’s sword inside of its arch. A terrible screech sounds at the rubbing of metal against metal as the sword gets wriggled free from Pan's grasp. James jerks his hook backwards, and the sword launches out of his opponent's hands.

The entire audience lets out a collective gasp as Pan’s sword lands with a clang! against the rough marble floors, off to the side. Everyone is dead silent, holding their breaths with anticipation of what’s to come.

You watch as the realization of his defeat dawns upon Pan, the fear blossoming in his eyes as James extends his cutlass to Pan’s throat. He presses the sharp tip into his neck, lightly enough not to break skin, but still firmly so no one, not even Pan, doubts his opponent's defeat.

“Apologize,” James demands, voice booming across the corridor, tone rather befitting for the captain of a ship.

“I-I’m sorry!” Pan pleas, just now aware of what a dangerous predicament he had gotten himself into.

“Not to me, you moron. To her.” James jerks his head backwards to where you’re standing, in the front of the audience, eyes blown wide.

Pan turns to face you, eyes locking with yours amidst the crowd. “I’m sorry! Truly, I am! Please, forgive me!” he cries.

James snarls, pulling his sword back, poised to strike a lethal blow. He thrusts his hand forward, straight towards Pan’s chest…

…but doesn’t ever reach it.

Everyone watches, confused—James more so than anyone else—as his hand remains suspended in midair. A soft blue force field shimmers around his arm, just as loud footsteps and an old, yet assertive, voice fills the hall.

“Fighting on school grounds is strictly against school policy, you know.” The headmaster, Merlin, walks in from the opposite side of the hall. His steps echo loudly against the high ceilings, filling the otherwise dead-silent area. “Boys, you come with me. The rest of you, get to your classes.”

The crowd slowly disperses as Merlin whisks James and Pan away. You still stand there, feet glued to the floor, watching their backs until they disappear from sight.

You didn’t see neither James nor Pan in your classes for the rest of the day, and you assumed you wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. The headmaster was generally a kind soul, but he was strict when it came to breaking rules. You didn’t know what punishment he had come up with for them, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Which is why you’re rather surprised when you open your locker at the end of the day to find a note flutter out and land at your feet. Curious, you pick it up and read it. “Meet me at our spot after school. -J.”

A small grin makes its way across your face, although you try your best to help it. You don’t know why, but reading James’s little notes always brings you joy, even if you are in a tight spot with him.

You make your way to the courtyard, where James is waiting for you by the water fountain once again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice back to being gentle and soft. You open your mouth to respond, but he puts his hook against your lips, quieting you. “I need to get this out first before you yell at me.”

“I wanted to see you to apologize for my actions. After hearing what Pan said…” His eyes wander down to the ground as a grimace spreads across his features. “I’ve come to the realization that he’s right, love.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement, shocked at the confession. Cocking you head to the side, you wait for him to continue.

“I haven’t been treating you the way I should. And that is going to change, starting today. I also have to ask for your forgiveness for my actions earlier…it was wrong for me to get upset at you for speaking to Pan. But seeing you act so kindly to my enemy…it really struck something inside of me.”

“James,” you breathe, lifting his hook up to your cheek and placing your hand on top of it. “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

“Even for dueling Pan?”

You let out a small giggle. “Yes, that too. Although, I must admit, I did find you fighting for me to be kind of attractive.”

“Oh?” James asks with an intrigued smile dancing on his lips. He uses his free hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. “Then I suppose I’ll have to start more fights then.”

You giggle again, happy to finally be in your lover’s arms. Truth be told, you had mentally forgiven him long ago. Ever since the night of your argument, you had just wished it would all end, that you two would go back to the way things were.

“Why...why did you start that fight with Pan?” you ask, the question having been on your mind for a while.

James slowly lets out a breath before responding. “Let’s just say, a little birdie told me of how he harassed you in class earlier today. The thought of him putting his hands on you…making you uncomfortable…it was just unbearable, love. I don't care what it cost me; he had to pay for what he did.”

You process this, giving a small nod. Although you don’t quite agree with his methods, you still find his protectiveness endearing.

“I have something to ask you, as well, darling,” James inquires. You meet his gaze, signaling for him to go on. “Did you really say that I wasn’t your lover?”

“I, well, uh…” your voice trails off. You were hoping that he hadn't quite caught that when Pan said it, but apparently he had. Glancing back up at James’s face, you wish you didn’t see the pain etched into his features, all but hidden by the mask he always puts up.

“Well…” you start. “You never said anything about us officially dating, and I didn’t want to presume…” You look down at your shoes, avoiding his burning stare.

James removes his hook from your cheek and slips it under your chin, gently tilting your head upwards towards him. “And here I thought that it was so obvious, I didn’t even need to mention it to you, my little mermaid.”

You give a small grin, finally at peace within your lover’s arms. “You can never be too sure,” you whisper, leaning in and intertwining your lips with his in a passionate kiss, the intensity building around the two of you.

James takes a few steps backwards as you lean into him, still locked in your embrace, his leg hitting the stone of the water fountain you two love to meet at. He maneuvers his way down and sits on the rim, pulling you on his lap.

You wrap your arms around his torso, straddling his thighs. James puts his good hand on your waist, using his hook to pull you in by the collar of your shirt. You moan softly, the sound melodious as your rampant emotions spark the magical abilities inside you, one hand leaving his back and creeping inside his loose shirt.

You open your mouth as he slips his tongue inside, gently rocking on his legs. A groan escapes his lips as you rub your fingertips along the bare skin of his chest, moving lower to trace his rather well-defined abs. He moves his good hand down to your leg, gripping it tightly as he continues kissing you with a deep fervor. Everywhere he touches, he leaves a trail of fire on your skin. Your body ignites at even the slightest of brushes, a blaze consuming you inside and out.

Which is why when he raises his hook and brushes your cheek with the cold metal, the feeling is all-too welcomed. You nearly melt as your mind completely blanks, your senses overwhelmed. James doesn’t quite understand why his small gesture elicits such a reaction from you—you were now kissing him and moving with much more rigor than before—but he revels in the way you make him feel. You, on the other hand, get lost in the sharp contrast the coolness of his hook provides to your burning cheek, the inferno that swells around you ever-growing as you continue to have a passionate night with your lover.

The moon has its cycles, coming and going. When it disappears at the first rays of dawn, the tides yearn for its alluring and familiar presence yet again. And although it may seem like an eternity away, nightfall always comes, bringing with it the gentle serenity of being with the one you belong with.

You think back to the question you asked yourself not so long ago, If you could go back, would you change what happened, that fateful day you met James? In that moment, you decide, no, you wouldn’t. Because the life you have right now is the only one your heart will ever yearn for.

end x

<- back to part 1

taglist: @maggiecc

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sczne · 13 days ago

Note

girl are you taking requests cause that last fic HOLYYYYY

ate so hard

if you are can i request semi x gf reader fluff&smut alphabet? (in a normal au, not squid games)

➤ nsfw alphabet.

implied: nsfw pairing: se-mi / player 380 x fem!reader word count: 1.3k note: heeeyyyy, yeah i'm taking reqss mainly for our girlies. alsoo here it iss, i'm not sure if this is exactly what u asked for, but i hope u enjoy it regardless<3 (i spent a whole day brainstorming, and i also did not proof read)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

she’s extremely caring when it comes to aftercare with you, a stark contrast too. she’ll usually bring you a bottle of water, maybe a snack and a lot of cuddles, 一 i’ll say that she sometimes wants to continue, but if you don’t, she won’t push it but if she doesn’t want to, you won’t push her either. maybe shower sex if you’re still in the mood and if you just wanna wash up, she’s okay with that too.

usually se-mi lets you have all the water to yourself but you frown at her way of thinking so the times she brings you a bottle of water and when you finish your turn of drinking, you press the sealing surface against her lips. this action causes her to turn her head towards you, looking away from the tv looking for a movie for the two of you, raising her eyebrow with a small smile “what’s wrong, baby?” furrowing your eyebrows you try pressing further emphasizing for her to drink the water 一 “drink.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

boobs. but you already knew that. and it’s too obvious, she’ll steal a glance at any given opportunity, but aside from that, she loves laying on top of your chest just to listen to your heartbeat and probably your collarbones or inner thighs, she’s a sucker for those places, leaving marks whether you let her or not (but if u really say no, she won’t leave any) and only because she just really likes watching you struggle trying to cover them up and usually teases you about it.

on se-mi, it’s definitely her hands, she loves the way your eyes follow every movement, from fingers to the palm 一 her hand in general just staring with your mouth agape as she traces the lip piercing with her index finger, teases you about it too she uses the same hand to point at her eyes, snapping you out of your trance realizing you’ve been caught, “eyes up here, baby, you’re not even gonna be discreet about it?” she teases.

and obviously because of how your body reacts when the cold rings come in contact with your warm skin, especially when they’re sliding up to your inner thigh or a simple slide of her hand down your side when her hand is underneath the fabric of your shirt and you usually grip her wrist to stop her from doing anything else because you’re in public or in the middle of something.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

like i said, se-mi’s hands am i right hahaha,,,, 😻一 she enjoys the sight of seeing your juices covering her fingers, before locking eyes with you through half-lidded eyes, licking her own hand clean as she watches you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, still breathless, sucking in as much air as you could with your chest heaving.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

collars. (open for discussion) something in se-mi finds it arousing about you or herself in a collar with any of the two of you being in control of the chain, visualizing you harshly or gently tugging her towards you or between your legs has her swallowing hard.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

definitely experienced, a decent amount of experience, she’s more than willing to experience new and other things with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary. doggy. OR LITERALLY ANYTHING. as long as your legs are up on her shoulders. 😽

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

no, huge nono for her, she tends to cherish these moments of vulnerability with you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i'd say she’s pretty well groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

i like to think that se-mi gets this natural habit with you during these moments where she brings up your hand using her own hand while she’s hovering on top of you, kissing the palm of your hand, or letting the palm of your hand simply brush against the cool metal of her piercing along with the feel of her lips, maintaining eye contact with you with half-lidded eyes, with her breath fanning over your hand, murmuring a low “i love you.”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i think it depends, to se-mi i don’t think it’s necessary when she has you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

she definitely has many, from degrading to praising, dirty talking, but i wanna assume temperature play, this idea mainly based off of how you react when her nose piercing nudges slightly at your inner thigh when she leaves marks and kisses, and let’s not forget when she eats you out.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

probably anywhere as long as you give her the green light, but she’s definitely more into the moment when it’s private.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

se-mi gets turned on by your reactions, your sounds get her going, but it definitely turns her on when you playfully or gently bite her lip piercing mid kiss.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that involves hurting you or that leads you to cry, these are also the reason why se-mi insists you have a safe-word.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

yes, huge YES. i don’t have to explain this. she loves it, having your legs up on her shoulders, watching your reactions, her hand sliding down your side with the feel of her silver rings makes you shiver under her touch, her other hand tightens its hold on your upper thigh to hold you in place and idly tracing patterns on it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

depends on her mood, and yours of course.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

se-mi likes them more than she’d like to admit to you, a little often if you’re in a rush or a limited amount of time, they sometimes turn into an all nighter.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

you don’t risk, you don’t win, she doesn’t care, not a single flying fuck, unless you really say no, she’ll behave.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

she’ll give into as many as you want, but she’d be dead beat after all of it and definitely suggests breaks.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

strap. and definitely others like vibrators and cuffs (maybe. does a blindfold count?)

she’d mainly use them on you, but if you insist she’ll oblige.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

depends on her mood, very unfair most of the time though, teasing is like breathing for her.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

pretty quiet, sometimes muffled by your neck, but the times she’s vocal is just moans, pants and heavy breathing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

sexting, nudes or films if you allow her.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

she probably has piercings in other places. but that’s just me though…

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

decently high i’d say, depends on where her teasing leads to.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it’s a 50/50 with se-mi, depends, sometimes she just stays there cuddled up with you tracing lazy patterns on your thigh while you sleep, making you stir in your sleep. that, or she sleeps like she’s dead. (no pun intended 😿)

©sczne

#player 380 x reader #se mi #se mi squid game #se mi x reader #player 380 #semi squid game #semi x reader #squid game #wlw #lesbian #se mi smut #squid game x reader #squid game smut #player 380 squid game

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knavesflames · 2 months ago

Note

heyyy el

requesting politely reader ... tending to ... arlecchino with her mouth and going from starting timid to taking a bit more control to arles surprise

lots of care and love just like in the one you just posted :3

mhm ty

Hi anon<33 I hope you are doing well and having a nice night (it’s night for me). I liked this idea >:) sorry lol it took me a while to come up with a concept but I hope this suffices 😁😁😁 (hi guys the dirty words are slowly making a reappearance)

Word count: 2.2k

Contents: soft dom!reader (kind of yes), bottom Arlecchino, cunnilingus (funny word), fingering at the end, orgasm denial (ONCE GUYS OKAY ONCE), also praise (guys I’m cooked)

Songs I listened to (for fun): fantastic- king princess (is this one obvious or not), disease- lady gaga, shhh!- viviz, pivot- HEYOON, boyfriend- dove Cameron, impurities- le sserafim

There’s more but I forgot

Nsft utc<3

Arlecchino is not a receiver. She gives and takes nothing, it’s how she’s always liked it, whatever the reason may be. She has not explained, and you doubt she will. Arlecchino is very secretive, you’ve come to learn. She divulges what she must, and keeps the rest hidden. Even you, who seems to know more about her than anyone ever has, is kept in the dark about a lot of things– what exactly triggers her nightmares? What truly happened with that ‘Mother’ of hers? There are rumours, of course. Arlecchino is mad and cursed, she killed her Mother ruthlessly without reason, she killed her best friend for nothing other than a simple quarrel. You know them to be false, now you know her better, but what you can’t seem to understand is why she lets the lies fester, why allows herself to be portrayed as a cruel monster. She can’t seem to answer you.

Arlecchino also refuses to tell you why she pushes herself so hard, or why she has such strict rules for herself. You beg her to take that damn suit off constantly (for.. Multiple reasons, both you and her know that well enough– she only obliges when it ends in you as a quivering mess on the bed). “What happened to regular clothing? I know you dislike dresses, but you don’t have to force your body into that silly suit all the time.” is a phrase often uttered. Silence is the only answer given.

Silence seems to be an answer you get from her often. In different contexts, of course. Sometimes, she is silent when she is comfortable, when she is thinking, when she is angry.. You realised long ago that she is a woman of few words– and even fewer sounds. During the rare occasions you get to make her feel good (whether that’s simultaneous to your own pleasure, or before), the only sounds you really hear are the soft breaths and the slight grunts whenever you do something she particularly likes. You have made it your mission to coax more sounds out of her, even if it’s the last thing you do. You experiment with different things each time you get to make her feel good, anything remotely sexual she’s done to you, you try with her. Degradation doesn’t work, her only response is a cock of her eyebrow and a scoff. Praise is a little bit better, earning a soft kiss on whatever part of your skin she can reach. Tying her up is out of the question– she has made it abundantly clear multiple times she only enjoys the act of bondage, however small, when you are on the receiving end. It’s the case for a lot of things, and it almost irritates you. Almost. it turns out the answer is something much simpler than anything you’ve ever tried, and you mentally curse yourself for taking so long to figure it out (for Arlecchino, that was the point. She likes the game, even if she truly is trying to keep her weakness hidden).

The answer was something she had done to you almost every time you had engaged in some form of intimate act with her. There aren’t many acts more intimate than your partner giving up the ability to speak because their tongue seems to be.. Busy. You just hadn’t realised that Arlecchino would ever be on the receiving end. So, after much pleading (and begging to the point it almost seems you’re begging her to fuck you instead of the other way around), she seemed to relent. Barely.

“Let me try,” comes the soft whisper from your lips, hitting the side of her neck as you gently place kisses there. There’s no reaction, but you could swear you felt a shiver. Moving away from the milky, unmarred skin of her neck (one of the only places that isn’t marked with either her curse or an array of scars), you almost expertly push the blazer off her shoulders before slowly sinking to your knees. The carpet is fuzzy, but it doesn’t do much to soften the hard wood underneath. You can’t find yourself caring. The blazer lands on the back of the desk chair. Excited, desperate fingers tug at the buttons of those godforsaken trousers until they finally do what you want them to do. You’ve done what you can, you can’t push her hips up so you can continue to take them off, she’s stronger than you’ll ever be (you like that). “Don’t you think it would feel nice? You know it feels nice. Do you not think you deserve it?”

“I do not deserve the pleasure you give me,” she murmurs, a rare show of her inner thoughts. The woman criticises herself too much, you think. You wish she wouldn’t be so strict with herself.

“Irrelevant,” She shivers at the slight sternness of your voice. It mirrors her own. “Do you want it?”

Arlecchino doesn’t respond for a while. Her hand moves to your head, and she caresses your hair, gently stroking and tugging at the strands before she eventually speaks, a whisper, a subconscious attempt to hide the fact she’s about to chase something she never allows herself to. “Put a pillow under your knees, at least.”

You grin, so pleased with yourself. You stand again, only to sprint and find a pillow. It happens to be the pillow you sleep on, it doesn’t matter. You return to your position only to find her trousers messily on the ground, and the top four buttons of her dress shirt undone. The look in her eyes is one you’ve rarely seen– want. “Beg.” you whisper, the grin still on your face. Arlecchino’s own face twists into a frown.

“I will die before I beg for anything.” Her tone is resolute, and you sit there nonetheless, unmoving apart from the finger tracing up and down her toned thigh. You both stay like that for an agonising two minutes before she barely mumbles. “Please.”

You are incredibly aware that you won’t get more than that, so, even though you know it doesn’t do much, you mutter “good girl”. It does do something, though. You barely hear it, but her breath shakes. You take it as an initiative to start, so you let your lips find her thigh, planting wet, open mouthed kisses up towards her inner thigh. You continue, and– she’s soaked already. You’ve done exactly nothing and she’s as wetter than you’ve ever seen her. Your eyes move up to hers, a raise of your eyebrow as you open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off before you can speak.

“Do not. I am aware of the.. situation.”

“But you’re all wet and it’s all for my tongue. Isn’t that sweet?” You’ve never been this cocky at all, and Arlecchino would be a liar if she said she didn’t like it. She tries to find words, something to refute the claim, but her words are ripped from her lips when she feels your own lips graze her clit. It’s a tiny movement, really, but one she isn’t entirely used to. The only reaction she makes, however, is a slightly sharper exhale. Until your eyes stare straight into hers and you do it again, though for longer. Then again, though this time your tongue presses flat against it. Your tongue doesn’t move, much to Arlecchino’s dismay. The hand that rested in your hair gently tugs.

“Continue.” She speaks breathily, and her words shake. You can practically hear her gulp as she tries (and fails) to calm herself, and you know she’s probably telling herself to show no emotion. Though, when you finally start moving your tongue in slow, languid motions, you hear her shaky sigh and feel her hand in your hair tighten even more. You try to find a rhythm that affects her the most, alternating between soft licks and harder presses— you find that swirling your tongue around her clit, occasionally moving down to dip your tongue into her aching cunt. Your eyes dart up to her every few seconds to catch her mouth falling open and her head tilting back. When her mouth isn’t open, she’s stifling any noise she could possibly make, gritting her teeth so hard you’re almost certain they’re going to crack. The next time you tear your eyes away from her skin and move them to her face, her eyes are squeezed shut, and only then does a quiet groan escape her.

Something seems to change in your mind, because your hands move to grip her thighs, holding them apart despite them trembling. She’s sensitive, after all, it isn’t often she gets taken care of, is it? The blackened hand not pulling greedily at the strands on your head moves in an attempt to push your hands away, but your voice vibrates against her (which of course, causes another quiet sound to slip from her). “Keep your hands on the chair.”

Arlecchino’s eyes shoot open, a gasp practically ripping through her lungs. “You cannot expect me t—“

“Do it or I stop. Let me finish making you feel good.” She scolds herself internally for letting you get too comfortable with her own tricks. Either way, it feels good and she doesn’t want you to stop, though she’d rather cut off her own arm than admit it. She doesn’t need to say a word, though, the small groans (and whimpers) tell you everything. Especially when they grow louder, and her chest begins heaving, and her voice breaks with every utterance of your name. It’s the most pleasure she’s ever outwardly expressed.

“Why did you stop?” Her exasperated, breathless voice echoes the room. You stopped just as her orgasm was reaching the peak, causing it to ebb away quickly, a sense of disappointment growing in Arlecchino’s stomach. Her eyes, now piercing into you with that familiar irritated stare, meet yours, your own full of amusement. Wiping your chin (when you’re eating pussy like it’s the last meal you’ll ever eat, it tends to get messy, doesn’t it?), you chuckle and respond in your own teasing lilt.

“You taste so good, and your pussy is so damn pretty, Arlecchino. I don’t particularly want to stop right now. You can take it, can’t you? Keep your hands still.” Her face twists into some odd mix of mortified and aroused, but your tongue meets her clit again, and the only sound she can make is something so uncharacteristic, a whine. You continue exactly what you were doing before, though this time you decide to slide a finger into her— the reaction she gave was definitely a pleasant one, her back arching off of the chair, her hands squeezing the seat of it in an attempt to keep them still. Arlecchino reaches the peak quicker this time, and despite your bossy orders, she finds herself melting into you completely, her hips grinding herself onto your tongue as much as she possibly can. It’s completely different to how she was at the beginning, her plan to remain unbothered and stoic foiled.

“Can I— please don’t stop this time.” When there comes no response from you other than a curl of your finger, she moans your name in a useless attempt to get you to answer her. You’re being mean, she thinks, and you’re using everything she does against her. “Answer me. Tell me I can cum.”

How is she still demanding things from you even in this position? She lost all control a long time ago. You find your eyes opening though, and while adding a second finger, your voice softens and you speak, voice full of affection. “Be good and cum for me, then. Now, before I change my mind. Let yourself feel good, yeah?”

Arlecchino doesn’t need to be told twice, because her hips lose whatever rhythm they had when your tongue presses flat against her, letting her choose the pace and the rhythm she knows will get her there quickest (it doesn’t take long, the woman is so sexually pent up it’s laughable). Within a minute, she’s crying out, her hands flying up to her face to cover the obscene expression she knows is there. You pay no attention, only watching every movement with a sense of satisfaction and a smile in your eyes. You keep your finger curling and your tongue still until her body stops rocking, and her hands leave her face. When her face, the one you find so beautiful, emerges from behind her hands, mascara slightly smudged, you can’t help but snicker as you pull out and away from her.

“Better?” You ask, wiping your chin once more with the back of your hand. You somehow look so smug and the look on your face pisses Arlecchino off, just a little. How you’re so calm and collected and she’s a fucked out mess sat in her desk chair.

“Yes,” she says, her voice sharper than she intends it to be really, but she continues in the same tone. “I do hope you don’t think we’re finished, hm?” Your head tilts in slight confusion, but the smile remains on your face. After a while, Arlecchino’s own lips twitch upwards, barely noticeable, but you notice nonetheless. “How could I leave you without feeling good, too? Go to the bedroom, please.”

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kararisa · 1 month ago

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darling, starling

— 27. through it all — ✦ (wc: 0.8k)

notes: this took longer than expected ^^ hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

To Yae Miko's credit, she cut straight to the chase.

Not that Scaramouche would give her much credit in general, given that she had always treated him with such indifference over the years before he finally moved out. But he'd take his small blessings whenever he could.

It was a cut-and-dry deal: Yae Miko would interview Scaramouche regarding the recent scandal between his partner and one of the band members of Windborne. He would get the chance to clear the air with the help of one of the most influential news outlets in all of Inazuma, while Yae Miko would get an exclusive story people could only dream about.

It should have been over the moment they ended the interview. But here they are, making casual conversation. At least as casual as it gets between a son and his estranged mother-in-law.

Scaramouche has seen these tactics before. Whenever Yae Miko wanted information, she’d make casual conversation with the interviewee to get them to open up. And that’s when she strikes.

Ironically enough, it was also Yae Miko who taught him how to avoid this. She was the one who taught him when to give information and when to hold back; how to satiate people’s curiosity enough so they leave you alone. Basic media training — training he and Kaori knew by heart.

Yae Miko tilts her chin downwards, the way she does whenever she gets curious. “You’ve been back in Inazuma for a little over a year now. Is it nice living with them? I’m assuming so since no one’s spotted you packing your bags just yet.”

“I still live with them. But that’s none of your business.”

“Oh come now, you saw me turn off the recorder. Everything we’re saying right now is off the record.”

Against his better judgment, he yields, “It’s... nice. On the days when they actually wake up early, they help me cook. It’s become a routine of sorts.”

He knew that was exactly what she was looking for when he saw the hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

It’s a slippery slope, trusting a journalist. Some will risk their lives for the truth while others will stab you in the back while shaking your hand. But if it’s Yae Miko, he has no doubt she’ll only publish the truth, if only a little embellished. She has to sell stories, after all.

“You’re never usually this civil with me,” Scaramouche doesn’t attempt to mask his suspicion. “What do you hope to gain with a conversation that’s off the record?”

Yae Miko offered a cryptic smile, her eyes revealing a flicker of sincerity. “Am I not allowed to be curious? People are actively looking for you just for the chance at an interview and you reached out to me in the hopes of clearing the air about your relationship.”

He’d be loathe to admit that she was one of the few people he trusted to handle the story properly. But he still had to ask, “And now you’re just this so-called off-the-record conversation as some sort of blackmail?”

She sighs, “I’m getting an exclusive interview with the author who’s dating an Inazuman pop star. Would you blame me for asking a few questions? Besides, you’ll see none of this conversation mentioned in any articles.”

“How do I know you’re not just bullshitting me...”

“I can understand your apprehension, but words hold power, Scaramouche. Everyone in the industry knows this. And so do you.”

Scaramouche has never really seen eye-to-eye with Yae Miko on a multitude of things, but one of the few things they can agree on is that people shouldn’t just blindly believe what people say just because they have a large following. The Narukami Press has always strived to publish articles that are reflective of the truth.

But bias is inevitable, whether you work in journalism or public relations.

“A large majority of people are always going to want to chase the latest drama without caring if it’s true or not,” she starts. “You’ll find no such motivation in me to keep fanning the flames. I want them to die down as much as you do.”

“People like us have a responsibility to be careful with what we say and how we say it,” she continues. “The drama with Zenith was blown out of proportion, that much is for sure. People were hungry to see their downfall given that they were on top for so long but they were just as eager to drag you down with them.”

“Setting the record straight by yourself will be nearly impossible,” she states matter-of-factly. “But your friends have been preparing their statements to defend your partner, yes?”

He isn’t even surprised that she knows about this, especially a PR move this big. Working with his friends will be the best way to get the rumors to die down to a manageable level.

“Your word and Xiao’s will be what people hang onto the most. Make it count.”

“And fight for them, Scaramouche. They need you now more than ever. If you decide to ignore all my advice, then that’s fine by me. But never stop fighting for them.”

“Like hell I’d ever stop. No matter what happens, I’ll be with my partner through it all.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

i lied, this was my favorite chapter to write by far

happy new year everyone!! updates will probably slow down from here but i hope you enjoyed the chapter ^^

taglist — currently CLOSED:

@aestherin @your-kuya-pogi @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @vxnuslogy @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @nymphxie @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @lilybythevalley @one-and-only-tay @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @miaakai @duckyyyx @cinnaniyoom @kgogoma @xtobefreex @mechanicalbeat1 @feiherp @venturinea @nnasv @retiredmommylover @onmywaytoteyvat @tiredslepz @saccharine-sucks

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writtenwhalien · 2 months ago

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a lover's redemption | chapter 3

chapter 3. the new normal

pairing ↠ mafia leader!park jimin x reader

genre ↠ mafia AU — romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)

summary ↠ Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.

word count ↠ 13.3k

18+ | warnings ↠ drinking, explicit sexual content, violence, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings).

taglist is open – dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3

notes ↠ please enjoy and shareeeee xxoxoxox and pls share your thoughts w me as we get into it ;) also in case its not clear, jimin's birth year in the fic is 1995, same as real life, and Y/N is 2 years younger than him. I always put the year for any flashbacks so you can work out how old they are :) any confusion, please let me know (i might make a mistake!) thanks angels! <3

17th July 2009

The heavy scent of cigar smoke lingered in the room, curling around the dark oak furniture. Jimin sat quietly beside his father, his small legs barely brushing the floor. Across from them, Lee Han-Jae exhaled a long puff of his cigar, looking tired.

“They confirmed the crash?” Jihoon asked, his tone devoid of warmth.

Jimin did not know what accident his uncle and father had planned but he knew that his father had been on edge all day because of it.

Han-Jae nodded. “Mostly. But he's gone.” He downed what was left of his drink. “Did we take care of the family?”

Jihoon swirls his glass. “We’ll let them go, they have no one.”

“Except Kija and Min-Baek-hyun,” Han-jae counters.

“They mean nothing to us.”

“But they were loyal to Sehun.”

Upon hearing this, Jimin went still, realising what’s happened.

“Their loyalty was not just to Sehun but the entire Han family. They will protect them at all costs and they’ve been in this long enough to know not to retaliate if they want to keep themselves safe.”

Han-Jae said nothing else of the matter but his face did little to mask his disapproval. He took another puff of his cigar before he spoke again. “The other two men survived. Escaped before the flames could finish the job. They’re digging through the wreckage, but the police are sniffing around."It seems dental records are proving... inconvenient.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Inconvenient?” he echoed. “The detectives are a problem?”

Han-Jae waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Funny,” Jihoon said, leaning forward slightly. “You said the same thing about the last case they opened. And now I hear whispers about them building something bigger — trafficking charges. Another detective’s on the case, isn’t he?” His tone sharpened. “You’ve been careless, Han-Jae.”

The room tensed, the air thick with unsaid threats. Han-Jae stiffened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. “Watch your tongue, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s lip curled. “You’ve been playing dirty, using our resources to fund your side business."

Han-Jae remained indifferent. "You'll be asking for a share soon. All the pieces are almost complete and this detective is nothing more than a bump in the road. I'll deal with it."

"That's besides the point. I trusted you and you're acting foolishly."

"Foolishly?"

"Is it not?" Jihoon asked, patronising.

Jimin watched as Han-Jae got up wordlessly and walked over to his cabinet. He picked up the decanter and generously poured himself some whiskey.

“I’ve given you more than enough leash,” Jihoon continued, his voice rising. “But if you think I’ll let you drag my name down with yours, think again.”

Han-Jae emptied his glass before he turned, his face a mask of fury. “We’ll talk about this later,” he spat. “We have somewhere to be.”

Jihoon didn’t bother responding. Instead, he turned his attention to Jimin, his gaze cold and commanding. “Get a gun.”

Jimin froze, his blood turning to ice. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Now,” Jihoon snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Then meet me by the car."

Jihoon left the room and Jimin followed, his legs moving before his mind could catch up. He went towards the basement, down the stairs and past the training floor, all the way to the locked room at the back. Some of his father's men watched as he walked, but none said a word. Hands trembling, he pressed his thumb to the scanner and waited for the door to unlock, revealing an entire array of weapons lining the walls.

Jimin didn't think. He picked up the first handgun he saw, checked it was loaded and then walked out with the cold metal feeling alien in his grasp, the weight far heavier than he anticipated.

Without realising it, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where his mother stood slicing vegetables. She turned at the sound of his shaky breathing, her eyes immediately softening when she saw the gun in his hands.

“Jimin,” she whispered, crossing the room in an instant. She crouched down in front of him, pulling him into a gentle hug. The faint scent of lavender filled his nose, momentarily drowning out the suffocating reality around him.

“I can’t,” he mumbled against her shoulder. “I can’t do it.”

His mother’s embrace tightened. “I never wanted this for you, Jimin,” she murmured, her voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry.” She pulled back, brushing his hair from his face with trembling fingers. “But this is your life now. Your father won’t wait. If you don’t go back, he’ll only get angrier.”

Jimin shook his head. “Why do you let him—” His voice broke off and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry." Her face crumpled, but she quickly composed herself and closed his fingers around the gun. “You have to go now, before he comes looking for you.”

Reluctantly, he nodded, his small frame trembling as she kissed his forehead and guided him toward the door.

The container yard smelled of damp concrete and iron, the air thick and stifling. As Jimin stepped out of the car, he immediately spotted Kwan and Duri ahead of them.

Jihoon and Han-Jae walked ahead while Taemin and Jimin followed behind. As they went further into the yard, around a dark corner, Jimin glanced at Taemin, hoping for some kind of answer. Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a reassuring smile of sorts when Jimin glanced his way, but it did little to make him feel better. Jimin figured he knew where they were going since he and his dad spoke often.

Duri pulled the heavy door of one of the containers open as they approached and both fathers stopped short outside of the container. Han-Jae laughed mirthlessly and they both stepped aside for Jimin and Taemin to see.

Two detectives knelt on the floor, their faces bloodied and swollen, their hands tied tightly behind their backs.

Suddenly, the dead weight of the gun in his hand felt heavy again.

Jihoon glanced over his shoulder. “Stay here,” he ordered both boys.

Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a solemn nod but said nothing.

Jihoon stepped into the container, and crouched in front of one of the detectives, his voice low but menacing. “I warned you to stay out of my business. But now, you’re here. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The detective spat at Jihoon’s feet, earning himself a sharp backhand. Jihoon stood, motioning to Jimin. “Come here.”

Jimin hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Now, Jimin."

Taemin looked between them and gently nudged Jimin forward. "Go on," he whispered.

Reluctantly, Jimin got closer, his eyes glued to the ground.

"This man is a threat to us,” Jihoon said, calmly. “End him.”

Jimin’s breath hitched. “I-I can’t—”

Jihoon’s hand lashed out, striking him hard enough to send him stumbling. “You’re weak,” he snarled, stepping close to Jimin and speaking low in his ear. “Your mother’s made you soft.”

Jimin’s head snapped up and he ignored the harsh stinging sensation on his cheek. “Is that why you always send her away?” he asked, teeth gritted. “To keep her away from me?”

Jihoon froze, his face darkening. For a moment, Jimin thought he might strike him again. But instead, Jihoon looked right at Jimin and spoke, his voice icy. “She chooses to leave. Every time she walks out that door, it’s her choice. And it’s time you grew up and realised that.”

Jimin’s grip on the gun tightened, his knuckles white. He didn't look at the man before him but raised his arm, finger closing around the trigger. "You're right," Jimin said, voice low. "It is time I grew up."

The gunshot echoed through the warehouse, the sound ringing in Jimin’s ears long after the man’s body hit the floor.

Jihoon’s voice cut through the haze. “Finally.”

But Jimin didn’t hear him. All he could see was the blood, pooling and spreading across the cold concrete. All he could feel was the weight of his father’s shadow, pressing down on him, suffocating him.

Jihoon glanced at Han-Jae, his lip curling in irritation. “You deal with the other one.”

Han-Jae smiled thinly, his hand settling on Taemin’s shoulder. “Go on, son.”

Taemin hesitated, his youthful face pale under the dim light of the yard's lights. He glanced at Jimin, whose expression was frozen in a mix of horror and detachment, and then back at his father.

Han-Jae’s smile faded. “Do you want to disappoint me?”

The weight of that question hung heavy in the air, and Taemin swallowed hard, but slowly, he stepped forward.

The second detective, bloodied and trembling, began to plead incoherently, his words dissolving into a sob.

Jimin’s stomach churned violently. He couldn’t bear to watch as Taemin raised the gun with far steadier hands than his own, nor could he endure the suffocating tension of the warehouse any longer. His voice was hoarse as he muttered, “I’m going to the car.”

Jihoon turned his head slightly but didn’t object. “Fine. Go.”

The indifference in his father’s voice stung more than any reprimand. Jimin moved toward the exit, his legs unsteady but quickening with each step.

The sound of the gunshot rang out just as he stepped out of the container, the echo chasing him into the night.

The air outside was still warm despite it being well past midnight. Jimin usually loved late summer nights like this but not today. As he walked around the bend, he felt more hot, and the humidity worsened the thick, suffocating tension inside.

He made it only a few steps further before his stomach betrayed him. Rushing over towards a stack of crates, he retched violently. The contents of his dinner surged upwards and all Jimin could hope was that he was far away enough from his dad.

His throat burned, and his body trembled as he leaned a hand against the cold metal for support.

When the heaving subsided, the silence around him felt deafening. His mind was a storm of guilt and revulsion. He could still see the detective’s lifeless eyes in his mind, and worse, as he still held the gun now, he kept imagining his finger was still around the trigger.

“This is your life now,” his mother’s voice echoed in his head, her words a hollow comfort against the growing ache in his chest.

His throat tightened, and for a brief moment, he felt the urge to cry. But the tears didn’t come. They couldn’t — not here, not now. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs until the sharpness of it dulled his emotions. He repeated the motion over and over, steadying himself, quieting the chaos within.

Jimin wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and straightened up. His legs felt heavier than before as he trudged toward the car, but by the time he reached it, his breaths had evened out, and his face was expressionless once more.

Sliding into the back seat, he leaned his head against the window and the chill of the glass grounded him.

As he sat there in silence, the weight of his actions settled like stones in his chest, and he knew this wouldn't be the last time.

Present day

It takes you a while to come to your senses, your fuzzy mind drifting in and out of sleep, telling yourself that you’re dreaming every time your eyes half open to see the surroundings of a room which isn’t yours. Your head sinks back into the feather filled pillow, your breathing is slow and steady and you remain completely still as you wait to wake up in your own bed, in your own home.

But it doesn’t happen.

As you start to focus on the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath, your eyes flutter open fully and everything comes rushing back to you. Seojun lying helplessly on your kitchen floor, Minjun and the men flooding your kitchen, Dani and Siho dying to protect you. And Jimin.

The thought of it all hurts your head, and you push the thoughts down, focusing on something else for now. You have many questions and you’ll make sure to get answers, but right now, one thing you’re sure of, is that you’re safe.

Looking around the room you’re in, you faintly recognise the large wooden doors and particular coving style on the walls. You spent more than a few days running around the halls of this estate, hiding and playing in the rooms belonging to the boy you were once friends with — now the man who saved your life…

It hasn’t escaped you, that had Jimin and his men not walked in when they did, Minjun would’ve killed you after he got whatever information he needed from you.

You’ve never forgotten him, and now it seems like an odd sort of fate that you’ve ended up entangled in some kind of mess with him, thanks to Seojun.

There’s definitely something going on, because there must’ve been a reason why Seojun was in your house, why he spent those late evenings at the cafe just trying to have a conversation with you.

Looking next to you on the nightstand, you see your phone and purse, as well as a few of the other items you had in your pocket and your first thought is to call Yoongi. Whatever’s going on, you need to tell him and he might know something too.

There’s also a small bowl of fresh fruit on the nightstand and a bottle of water — a small reminder that you’re safe here.

As you reach for your phone, you feel a mild throbbing pain in your wrist. You almost forgot that Minjun cut you, but the wound is neatly bandaged now. Pushing the sheets back, you look down at your thigh to see it’s also been bandaged and you’re almost certain you’ll find stitches under there. You’re also wearing clothes that aren’t yours — a loose tee and baggy basketball shorts. You don’t remember anything since falling unconscious but you’re sure one of the housemaids must’ve dressed you.

Reaching for your phone again, you expect to see a call from your grandma since she normally calls you every morning, but your home screen shows no notifications except the many security camera notifications which you’re sure must show the events that took place at your home – you might be able to use it to identify a few of the men who were there, Yoongi certainly would be able to help you with that.

Unlocking your phone, you open up your contacts and scroll through to find Yoongi’s name. Just before you can press call, there’s a knock at the door. Pausing, you look up and a few seconds later, the handle turns slowly.

A slim man enters the room, dressed sharply head to toe in a suit… Your eyes widen, and suddenly, everything makes sense.

“Yoongi.”

He smiles, though somewhat apologetically.”Y/N.” Walking over to your bed, he doesn’t hesitate to pull up the chair that sits in front of the dressing table and bring it beside your bed. While your thoughts race, Yoongi sits quietly and waits.

He’s been working for Jimin, of course he has – his dad was close with yours and Jimin, and after your father’s death, his dad, Min Baek-hyun, stayed close with your grandparents and still resides close to your grandma in Namwon, while Yoongi stayed in Seoul. All these years, you’ve stayed close friends with Yoongi, not knowing he was so close with Jimin too – someone you once considered a best friend.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you ask finally.

“I didn’t want to complicate things,” he murmurs, looking up. As soon as you meet his gaze, you know what he means by that…

You still remember that night, a few months ago, when Yoongi asked you to take out the Cheong men at the warehouse holding the drugs. For the first time, you asked for something in return – for him to help you find who killed your dad. It was the fact that he looked away as soon as you said the words that told you he already knew.

“I need something in return.”

Yoongi lifted his head calmly. “Is everything okay?”

You nodded, placing the key down on the table. “Just, promise me you’ll do it first.”

At this, Yoongi’s expression changed to one of concern and he hesitated.

Meeting his gaze, you said his name. “Please.”

“Alright.” Yoongi shifted, keeping his eyes on you. “I promise.”

There was a moment of silence as you mulled the words over in your head. It had been on your mind for a while, something you’d been considering often for the last few months, since you passed what would’ve been your father’s fifty fifth birthday. Not a day had gone by that you didn't miss him, and you’d known since his death that the last place he was called to, wasn’t a timely coincidence. You may have only been 12 at the time of his death, but your father always taught you to be aware of everything, and you’d noticed the tension between him and his friends for months before that night. Even the fact that you hadn’t seen Jimin in years, and the way Jihoon always disregarded your presence – that is before your father limited their visits to your family home. He was trying to protect you from them.

“I want to know who killed my dad.”

The words felt strange on your tongue – though your dad’s murder wasn’t a secret to you, you didn’t often speak about it so forwardly, especially not to Yoongi.

Concern returned to the lines in his face, brows furrowing as he shook his head and reached for your hand. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

You moved your hand from the table before he could hold it. “You know.”

He paused, eyes flitting down to where your hand was. Releasing a slow sigh, he closed his eyes. “And I think you already know.”

The anger and frustration you’d been holding on to for years began to surface.“It was them, wasn’t it?”

Yoongi looked up. “Y/N–”

“Lee Han-jae? And Park Jihoon?”

Yoongi gave the smallest of nods, and your fist curled in your lap.

“Do you know why?”

“Y/N, please, don’t–”

“You promised, Yoongi.”

Meeting your gaze, Yoongi sighed. “Alright, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Everything.”

So he did…

Na Doyun was a corrupt prosecutor who worked for the Lee’s, keeping them out of trouble as long as they paid her well enough. It was the perfect deal until some of the DA became suspicious of Doyun’s intentions and motivations, and she panicked, demanding more money, as well as a way for her to launder all the funds she was receiving.

The Lee’s had no choice but to comply since she had enough dirt on them to put them away for life, (as well as a supposed contingency plan that would expose them should they try anything to harm her), and so Han-jae developed a nightclub under his name and added Doyun as a majority shareholder, as well as a few others under his influence. It became one of the most popular nightclubs in all of Seoul and the perfect place for any illicit activity,

“The one that closed down months ago?” you asked, vaguely remembering. You were sure you'd followed more than a few unsuspecting victims of Yoongi’s from there on one of your errands for him..

“Yes. They have a few all over Seoul but none as big as that one. And you remember Taemin?”

“Lee’s son?”

“Yes.”

You barely saw Lee Taemin growing up. Though he was close in age to Jimin and you, his father had sent him to school in the United States. There were a few occasions where you were there together but unlike Jimin, he barely spared you more than a glance.

“Closing the club was intentional on their part. Han-jae wanted Taemin to replace it with something much bigger and better.”

“The Benitoite.”

Yoongi nodded. “A clever move on his part. The nightclub was becoming a hot spot and that was risky for them. After years of illegal trading, predatory lending and more, they had to find a way to get rid of any liabilities who used to frequent the club for their own gain, and with the Benitoite, they got the DA off their backs while attracting a whole new world, as well as another way to make their money clean again.” Looking up, Yoongi carried on. “Once that was done, Doyun had nothing left to hold over them.”

“They killed her?”

Another nod.

Your hand tightened around the fob. You couldn’t say you felt bad for the woman, she was corrupt after all and served men doing worse than herself, but it still didn’t make any of this easier to hear.

Yoongi sighed, his hand moving towards yours. “You okay?”

“Fine. Tell me.”

“When that nightclub before the Benitoite first opened, your dad wasn’t opposed to it so he never said anything. But, Jihoon or Han-jae weren’t just abiding by what Doyun wanted, they both saw an opportunity and wanted to run part of the nightclub as a secret brothel for invited guests only, those who would pay enough.”

Yoongi looked up apprehensively, but he saw your expression and continued.

“They knew anyone who knew of them, or had any kind of business with them, feared them, so they used that. If there was anyone who had done them wrong, or owed them money, they offered them a way out. Hundreds and millions worth of debt in exchange for years of service, and they didn’t care who it was.

“A mother, father, son, daughter, brother or sister. Any relation to the person who owed them was good enough and as you can imagine, none of the actual offenders offered themselves so it was all innocent family members being taken in. They would kidnap them and coerce them into working there doing whatever it was that needed to be done too. The whole thing was set up as a way for them to earn honest money to pay back whatever was owed.”

You looked up, repulsed. These are the men you once regarded as your uncles, seeing them as your dad’s friends you thought of them as family while growing up. It’s true that as you got older, you started to feel a certain way towards Jihoon because of how cold he was, especially with Jimin, but this was still beyond anything you would’ve expected of them.

“So that’s why they killed my dad?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Not exactly.” Pausing, he studied your expression for a few seconds before he leaned over the table to grasp your hand. After a gentle squeeze, he let go. “There was a lot happening around that time, I don’t know the details but the way Han-jae and Jihoon saw it, is that your dad became soft. When he first found out about the nightclub he was angry and threatened both of them.”

Your stomach curled.

“They wanted to appease him so they said they would reconsider.”

“But they didn’t.”

“No. And truthfully I don’t think your dad ever believed them anyway.”

It went quiet, the distant humming of car engines along a nearby busy road carried the sound of your thoughts as they ran endlessly.

Yoongi took another sip of his milk, watching you carefully. “Y/N,” he spoke softly. “I can tell you the rest another time.”

You looked across at home, taking a slow breath. You do feel like you’ve heard enough, but you need to know. “What more is there? They killed him after that, no?”

Traces of a grimace appeared on Yoongi’s face. “Not quite.” He paused, waiting.

Wordlessly, you nodded for him to continue.

“Did you know Han-jae was married twice?”

Nodding, you remembered his step-daughter, Jiyoung. She looked after you occasionally, but like Taemin, she wasn’t always there. “Yeah, his first wife passed away but Jiyoung was from her, right?”

“Not exactly, Jiyoung wasn’t Han-jae’s daughter.”

Now, this was news to you.

“And her mom wasn’t a huge fan of Han-jae, their marriage was arranged after her first husband died, and she had plenty of reasons to dislike the man and he felt the same, except she always threatened to expose him.”

The arranged marriage wasn’t a surprise to you, as it was common amongst many of your father’s affluent friends, including your own parents, but you hadn’t known that Han-jae’s first wife despised him.

“After she died, Jiyoung got older, she looked more like her mother, acted more like her, and Han-jae didn’t like her just as much as she didn’t like him, so… he saw an opportunity to get rid of her.”

Eyes widening, you asked, “The nightclub?”

Yoongi nodded, looking down. “But your dad saved her.”

Despite the warm evening breeze, you feel your skin go cold.

Yoongi continues. “He knew something was going on and he happened to be there the night she was being taken. He killed the men and took her away to a safe place, out of the country.”

And just like that, it all made sense. “So that’s why they killed him.”

Taking your hand again, Yoongi nodded silently. “It was a means to an end for them,” he murmured. “Han-jae and Jihoon had changed. They weren’t who your dad befriended and their morals and ambitions were far from the same.”

Yoongi’s words were said to comfort you, but they only fueled your anger… your dad’s closest friends, the men who he regarded as brothers, were the ones who killed him.

That conversation felt like a lifetime ago, and as you see Yoongi sitting in front of you now, you understand why he chose not to tell you, but you can’t help but feel a tiny bit betrayed.

“Still could’ve told me,” you mumble, looking away from him.

“Would it have made a difference to anything?” he asks, leaning forward with a playful smile.

Realising he’s right, you frown indignantly. “Might’ve stopped this,” you say, knowing it’s a weak point.

Yoongi’s expression darkens. Shaking his head slowly, he meets your gaze. “Nothing could’ve stopped this.”

Seojun is the first person that comes to your mind, and you feel your stomach coil.

Reaching to hold your leg over the covers, Yoongi says your name. “You need to tell me everything you know.”

Nodding, you push the mental image of Seojun out of your mind. “I don’t actually know much,” you start, “Seojun had been coming into the cafe around once a week and would talk to me, just small talk. He must’ve known who I was but I didn’t realise until the last time. He seemed worried about something and kept asking me about grandma, and when she called, he’d left and there was a note on the table.” Looking towards the night stand where your belongings are, you see the note you pocketed then, and the drive is there too. You take them both, handing the note to Yoongi. “This is what it said.”

Yoongi takes a few seconds to read the simple words, She’s the only family you have left. You should stay with her. Frowning, Yoongi lowers it to the bed. “He must’ve known, but I don’t know how.” Looking up, he asks, “you never told him anything about your grandma?”

“No,” you shake your head. “He just knew.” Thinking of this, you suddenly remember all those conversations you had with Seojun… he had a girlfriend. “Yoongi?” You meet his gaze with worried eyes. “He had a girlfriend.”

Yoongi’s expression softens, lips pursing. “Yeona. She knows. She lives here with us, she moved in with Seojun a year ago.”

Nodding your head slowly, you look away. You don’t bother asking how she’s doing, that would be a pointless question – you could tell how much Seojun loved her and from the stories he told you, you’re certain she loved him just as much, she must be heartbroken. The thought of it reminds you of the night your dad passed away… you’d never seen your mom in so much pain.

As your emotions begin to swirl heavily again, you look up at Yoongi. “Did he not say anything at all about what he’d been doing?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “We knew he was up to something, but Jimin told us to let him be.” Again, Yoongi’s expression looks pained.

“Why?”

“A few weeks back, Jimin had one of their clubs raided by the police on the same night they were receiving a weapons shipment and there’s since been a good few detectives on their case. Taemin’s uncle got some time in prison for it and even though he’s out, they still wanted to send a message to Jimin, a way to get back at him… so they killed Seojun’s mom.”

The words wound the knot in your stomach even tighter. “So Seojun wanted to get back at them?”

Nodding, Yoongi shakes his head. “Jimin warned him not to, he promised they’d work it out together and end things for once, but Seojun was angry. Once we figured out he was up to something, Jimin told us to leave him and once Seojun had a plan, we’d join in on it.” Releasing a shaky breath, Yoongi looks down. “We never got to find out what it was, and each week we’d see him less and less. Everyone here knows how to look after themselves, but now I wish we’d taken more care.”

Seojun was a friend to everyone here, Yoongi included, you realise. You know you ought to comfort him but you don’t think you know how. “I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you murmur.

He gives a small smile. “Finish telling me what happened.”

Sitting back into the cushions again, you recall the events from that night. “I left work as normal, came home and when I went upstairs, something felt off. So I went back down, and then I saw him in my kitchen, he was bleeding, barely conscious on the floor and I ran over to him. I tried to help him but he kept apologising, and then he gave me this.” Looking down, you hand the drive to Yoongi.

Confused, Yoongi turns it over in his hand. “Did he say what’s on it?”

“No,” you shake your head. “And it’s probably protected too since the Lee’s wanted it as well. But he told me to take it and find Jimin.” At this, Yoongi looks up and meets your gaze. “He kept saying he’d keep me safe and that I should leave him and go.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t. He needed help, but it was too late. When I was about to get out, Minjun and some of his men came in. Seojun tried to help me but in the end…” you trail off, looking down. “In the end it was Minjun questioning me, asking me who I am. I lied, of course.” You finish telling Yoongi the rest of what happened, up until when Jimin and his men came in.

When you’re done, Yoongi is cursing under his breath. “Minjun was a fucking psychopath.”

“Yeah, he seems like it,.” You remember the way he laughed when Jimin was punching him.

“He has a brother, Kwan, he’s just as crazy, if not worse.”

The thought of it leaves you shuddering. Minjun was ruthless and you can’t imagine how much worse his brother is. You hope you never have to meet him, although luck hasn’t really been on your side recently.

“Hey,” Yoongi says quietly, moving from his seat to the bed. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

He smiles softly. “Your wrist should be better in a few days, but your leg might take two or three weeks to heal well. I got you some crutches in case you wanna use them.”

“Thanks, I probably won’t use them though.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

Smiling at him, you push the sheets back to look at your bound leg. “It’s not deep is it?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “You got lucky. Only an inch or so. Ah, also,” he looks up at you apologetically, “you’ll need to stay here for a while until your house gets fixed.”

“Oh.” You remember how the windows were smashed in as Minjun attacked, and you’re sure there’s more damage to the property that you’re not even aware of.

“Jimin is making all the arrangements,” Yoongi continues, “but he’s trying to keep things quiet so I don’t know exactly when things will be sorted.”

“He doesn’t have to, I can do it myself.”

“He wants to,” Yoongi responds. “He blames himself for what’s happened, so just let him please.” His words appear to carry more meaning, and you can’t imagine how he must feel after seeing Seojun dead. You still remember the look on his face when he saw the body.

“Why?”

“He blames himself for a lot of things,” Yoongi murmurs with a soft sigh. “This hasn’t helped.”

Even though it’s been years since you were close with Jimin, you still find yourself feeling a familiar twinge in your chest – ever since you’ve known him, Jimin has had to suffer so much hurt, you couldn’t even count on your hand the amount of times you saw him looking so defeated and terrified in front of his father. He seemed to prefer the company of Lee Han-jae over his own father, although you don’t know how much better Han-jae was as a father since his son, Taemin, was in America most of the time to study. All you know is how he treated Jiyoung.

Now, curiosity (or care) gets the better of you, and you ask, “What happened between them? Han-jae and Jihoon?”

Yoongi looks up, grimacing. “It started with money. Han-jae got greedy and wanted the Benitoite to be only his, but Jihoon insisted it belong to them both since the nightclub was half his effort, though he never really cared for the extra money, he just needed the front. Han-jae reluctantly agreed but it was clear he wasn’t happy.

“And then Jihoon found out that Han-jae planned on going behind his back and he got angry. Han-jae was drunk one night and started threatening Jihoon, which only made him more angry. But before he could do anything, Taemin stepped in and shot him.”

“Taemin?!” you ask, surprised..

Yoongi nods. “He knew of his dad's plan for the Benitoite and he wasn’t fond of Jihoon, so he did what he had to to protect his dad. But Jimin was there.” His expression darkens. “He watched his best friend shoot his dad, who was bleeding out in front of him. I’m so grateful we were with him that day…” He trails off, exhaling as he looks down.

He doesn’t need to say anymore for you to know what he means – Taemin was going to have Jimin killed too.

Your head lowers too. You don’t allow your thoughts to wonder what would’ve happened if Jimin had been alone, you’re just glad he got out. Though you can’t imagine what he must’ve felt given his relationship with Jihoon.

“Did he get to have a funeral for his dad?”

“Yeah,’ Yoongi answers. “Han-jae had just lost another one of his friends and the blood was on his hands, so he sent the body back to Jimin and tried to make amends, but Jimin wasn’t having it. He was already against everything they were doing and now that his dad had gone and he’d lost Taemin as a friend, he had no reason to keep ties with them.”

Leaning back into the cushions, you mull over everything he’s just said. For years, you stayed away from these families who were such a big part of your life growing up, and now you learn that they’ve fallen apart as well.

After a moment, Yoongi speaks again. “I was surprised when they brought you in.” You look up at him as he continues. “I thought he might’ve recognised you, but he said nothing.”

“Do you think he does?” you ask, remembering the look on his face when he first saw you. “But he’s just not saying it?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Might be. If he does remember you though, he’ll say something.”

“Are you going to tell them?” you ask, looking at him.

“Only if you want me to.”

After a few quiet seconds, you shake your head. “At least not yet.”

Yoongi nods and it goes quiet again. You close your eyes, leaning against the headboard as you think back on everything that’s happened, and then it comes to you.

“Dani and Siho,” you say, opening your eyes again as a heavy weight settles on your chest. “Did you get them out?”

Solemnly, Yoongi nods. “I sent them back to their families and have offered to make all the necessary arrangements for anything else they need.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Let me know what they say, I’ll sort it out for them..”

Yoongi nods again, pursing his lips as this time he reaches forward to take your hand and comfort you. “They knew the risks, Y/N, better than anyone else.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But it’s different, they were there because of me.”

“Yeah, but they made that choice, they wanted to fight for you,” Yoongi says, shifting on the bed. When you look at him, he winces slightly. “Sorry if this isn’t helping, you know I’m shit at comforting people.”

You smile. “I know.”

“Hey, you’re not any better though,” he says defensively, “you didn’t even hug me properly when my mom passed away.”

“What?” you chuckle. “I tried to, but I know you don’t like hugs.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Not normally, but then I would've liked it.”

“Oh…” Now you feel bad. “Really?”

He nods, only looking up at you when you fail to respond. Seeing your face, he smiles. “It’s okay though, I got lots of hugs from the guys here.”

Scoffing, you absentmindedly pull the covers over your legs again, feeling cold from the aircon. “Yeah, you’re telling me Park Jimin was giving out hugs?” It comes out sarcastically and without much thought.

“Yes, actually,” Yoongi answers simply.

Pausing, you realise what you said and his response. You don’t know why you feel surprised when the Jimin you knew was nothing but caring and considerate towards others, oftentimes more than he was towards himself.

As though he can read your mind, Yoongi smiles. “Surprised?”

“Kind of.”

“You knew him though,” he says, as though that makes it so obvious.

“Knew,” you repeat. “I didn’t expect him to still be the same.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. “I wouldn’t say he’s changed, but I wouldn't exactly say he’s the same either…” looking up, he smiles again. “I guess you’ll get to see for yourself now.”

“I guess so,” you say, reaching for an apple from the bowl beside you. Seeing Jimin again has been weird, but you can’t ignore the part of you that is ready to welcome a part of your old life back, someone familiar, someone you liked very much. Like Yoongi said though, you’ll get to see for yourself if he’s anything like you remember him. Although you were both younger then, you don’t think he would’ve changed much from what Yoongi has told you so far.

“D’you want something a bit more filling than that?” Yoongi asks, nodding to the apple you’ve just bitten into. “Dinner is just about to be served so you can come down to eat or I can bring it up for you?”

“Oh, yeah, actually,” you answer, hearing your stomach growl after receiving a tiny morsel of food. “I am quite hungry, so I think I'll come down.”

“Sure,” Yoongi chuckles, “you must be hungry, you’ve been sleeping for almost three days.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Three days?!” When he nods, you immediately reach for your phone. “I need to call Moni, she’s probably wo–”

“I already have,” Yoongi says, interrupting you quietly.

Fingers freezing over her name, you look up at Yoongi. “What?”

“I already called her.”

A frown settles on your face. “What did you say?”

Yoongi has always been aware of your wish to keep everything hidden from your grandma, so he hesitates now, knowing this would be your response when he told you he called her. “Everything, but Y/N, she needed to know.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “Sorry.”

For a moment, it goes quiet and you lower your phone to the covers. Yoongi is right, she did need to know about this, and it’s not like she’s a stranger to this kind of stuff. Besides, what happened wasn’t related to any of the stuff you’ve been doing for Yoongi, which is what you always wanted to keep from her, and what’s happening now does seem to involve you, and therefore her.

“Sorry,” you say. “You’re right, I just didn’t…” you sigh, trailing off as you think about how worried she must be. Your grandma is a strong woman and you’re everything to her, just as she has been yours.

“I know,” Yoongi says, understanding what you mean without you saying it; he knows your grandma well enough too.

“What did she say?”

“First, she just wanted to know if you were safe,” Yoongi answers. “After that, she didn’t say much except that she’ll come as soon as she can.”

You nod. Knowing she’s coming brings a smile to your face, you’ve missed her a lot. Before you can respond, your stomach growls again.

“Come on,” Yoongi says smiling, getting up and pushing the covers back, “let’s get you some food.”

“You still remember it?” Yoongi asks, a tone of surprise in his voice.

Taking another step, you shrug. “I wasn’t that little when I was last here, I must’ve been, what, eleven? Twelve?”

“Hm, Yoongi hums. “Still impressive.” He keeps a hand hovering around you should you need him, but you’re doing just fine, walking slowly down the hall you recognise as being the third floor.

The Park Estate isn’t much different from what you remember. The estate sprawled across acres, is a masterfully designed blend of elegance and practicality. The entrance opens to a grand foyer, splitting into two distinct wings. The East Wing houses the biggest office which used to belong to Jihoon, and now you assume it would be Jimin’s. It’s flanked by a suite of offices, all of which are bathed in polished woods and leather tones, belonging to his closest men. The West Wing, larger and more personal, feels more like a home. It rises three floors (taking the space above the East Wing) to accommodate the family’s quarter’s on the top most floor, a lounge and other rooms on the second, and downstairs is a dining room, a sleek kitchen caters to formal gatherings and another lounge.

Yoongi points out his room as you pass it, as well as naming some of the other guys whose names you try to pay attention to as you ignore the mild pain that spreads through your leg.

As you approach the stairwell, you notice another dimly lit corridor leading off the main hallway. You can’t see anything down the corridor as you pass, only a wall with light coming from the left and you assume it continues on.

“Jimin’s room is down there,” he says, answering your unspoken question.

“Ah,” you nod, carrying on. It makes sense for his room to be separate from the rest.

The second floor has a few extra guest bedrooms which are rarely used, and a private lounge which is different to what you remember, with a huge balcony that overlooks the gardens and the furniture has changed from mostly dark colours to a much warmer colour palette.

Downstairs, the split between the East Wing, and the West Wing is much more noticeable. The entrance to the West Wing from the grand foyer is always guarded and behind is a much more private hallway with more guards at the end for extra security, and the only way to go upstairs is from the two staircases within the West Wing. The staircase you’re approaching now takes you downstairs where the kitchen is.

As you approach the stairwell, you freeze, your eyes landing on a painting hung up on the wall at the far end of the hall. Yoongi says your name as you begin to walk towards it, but you don’t respond as an old memory suddenly returns to your mind, from the night your father was murdered.

“Lightning… is it a storm?” you asked, standing next to your dad in front of the easel.

“Yes,” he said, ruffling your hair with his elbow as his hands were smudged with paint.

“What does it mean?”

“Sometimes it can mean power,” he answered, turning back to the canvas in front of him. “But sometimes it can also mean punishment.”

You looked up, frowning.

He smiled. “Sometimes, too much power isn’t a good thing. If you’re not a good person, then it can be dangerous.”

“Oh…” You looked back at the canvas, admiring the deep shades of blue and black and grey he’d used to paint the night sky. In the centre, a spear of light struck the violent waves of the sea below. “Who is it for?” you asked.

Your dad’s smile disappeared as he looked back at the canvas. “An old friend.”

The painting is just as vivid as you remember, and seeing it now brings tears to your eyes as you feel a bout of nostalgia.

“My dad painted this,” you say quietly as Yoongi joins you in front of the huge canvas.

He doesn’t say anything, but instead looks up at the painting, admiring it in its entirety as though he’s never seen it before. “It’s beautiful.”

Nodding, you blink a few times to get rid of the stinging sensation in your eyes.. You realise now that Park Jihoon was the old friend your dad mentioned; realising he called him an ‘old friend’, you know your father must’ve known in those months leading up to his death that he couldn’t trust Han-jae and Jihoon.

Just then, Yoongi’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Reading a text, he quickly excuses himself. “Come down if you can, or I’ll ask someone to come up,” he calls out as he’s already walking off towards the stairwell.

“Okay,” you answer absentmindedly, still looking at the painting.

It’s not often you allow yourself to dwell on the past, but it’s also not often that you find yourself face to face with things that remind you so much of the past. There’s a reason your grandma decided to leave Seoul all those years ago and it’s a decision you agreed with. Even when you moved back to Seoul, you knew you couldn’t return to your old home, not when all you had there was fond memories of a life that was so unfamiliar to you now. But now, standing in front of your father’s own hand painted work, a flood of memories return and you find it harder to fight the lump that settles stubbornly in your throat.

You don’t realise you’re standing there for long until you hear someone approaching behind you. Turning around, you recognise the man approaching you as one of the ones who were with Jimin that night at your home. He smiles as he comes to a stop beside you.

“Admiring the art?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, still watching his face – you didn’t realise then but now you see just how handsome he is, you feel like you can’t stop staring.

He chuckles, glancing at the painting. “You know I was talking about the painting, not me?”

Shaking out of your daze, you smile. “Yes, sorry. I just recognised you from the other night.”

“Ah, yeah, sorry we had to meet in such a way,” he nods, still smiling. “I’m Seokjin, but call me Jin.” He extends his hand which you shake.

“Y/N, and it’s okay, not your fault.”

“How’s the wrist?” he asks, pointing to your wrist.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you answer, lifting your arm for him to see. You can still move your fingers fine, just the occasional stretch or twist of your wrist hurts.

“Good. And the leg?”

“It’s mostly fine,” you nod.

He smiles again. “That’s good. Your wrist will heal fast, the leg might take a few weeks but it’s looking good so far. I didn’t expect you to be up so soon though,” he adds, raising a brow as though impressed.

You shrug.

“I take it this isn’t your first time getting hurt like this?” Seokjin says casually.

“What makes you think that?”

“You didn’t flinch that night, when we all aimed our guns at you. And the way you handled your own gun…” he shakes his head, smiling. “It definitely wasn’t your first time, and no normal person would point their gun at a mafioso at that.”

Chuckling, you turn back towards the painting again. “I guess I like getting shot at.”

“Just like everyone else here,” he laughs. “Well, you must be hungry, Yoongi asked me to walk down with you.”

“Sure,” you nod, turning away from the painting. You can return to it later. “So what about you?” you ask Seokjin as you approach the stairwell.

He watches carefully as you descend the first few steps. “What about me?”

“This definitely isn’t your first time stitching someone up,” you remark.

“Ah,” he nods. “Definitely not.”

You have to pause, reaching out for the banister to continue on. “So you’re a doctor?”

He snorts, stepping along beside you. “No, but I should be. I’ve done this kind of stuff enough times.”

Smiling, you know his statement is true enough. Injuries like yours must be a regular occurrence in the Park household. Stepping onto the landing, you take a breather and sit on the bottom step for a moment before you continue on. At the same time, you hear hurried footsteps running towards you and Seokjin.

“Jin hyung!” A bubbly voice sounds from down the corridor. You look towards the source and see two men who you recognise from that night – the man bun guy and the slender brown haired one behind him. They can’t see you sitting on the bottom step but as they get closer, Jin nods in your direction, turning their attention to you.

They both smile warmly when they see you, bowing their heads.

“Oh, miss L/N,” the first one comes forward, extending a hand. “I’m Jungkook, nice to meet you.” He has an adorable bunny smile and you can’t help but return it with one of your own.

“Nice to meet you Jungkook,” you reply, shaking his hand. “And you can call me Y/N.”

“Y/N, got it,” he nods, taking a step back so his other friend can greet you properly.

“Hi, Y/N, I’m Hoseok, Hobi for short,” he grins, shaking your hand.

“Hey.” You return his handshake, feeling slightly taken aback by how relaxed these guys are compared to their stoic looks from when you first saw them. Jungkook looks like a bunny rabbit in human form, and Hoseok beams like a ray of sunshine.

“How are you feeling?” Hoseok asks, motioning towards your leg.

“Um, it’s okay,” you smile. “I can still walk at least.”

He smiles with you, helping you as you start to get up. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

You hum in response, allowing Seokjin to continue walking beside you as Jungkook walks ahead, leading you to the extensive lounge.

Distractedly, you look around the familiar room. The coffee table you’re sitting at is still the same as it was when you used to have extra helpings of dessert with Jimin, secretly given to you by the housemaid who had a soft spot for Jimin. Being here reminds you so much of your father too, and knowing how much of a huge part of his life this family was makes you miss him dearly.

Before any of the guys notice you’re not tuned into the conversation, you return your attention to what they’re saying. It hasn’t escaped you that none of them have said anything about your identity, and you reckon it must be because Jimin hasn’t recognised you – if he did, surely he would’ve told these guys since they were there too. You’re not sure if they know anything at all about you – perhaps you should’ve asked Yoongi about that before you came down.

Whether they know anything or not though, they keep the conversation away from anything that would involve you from sharing too much, and you realise now, how their warm smiles and easy conversation is a stark contrast to the tense memory you have of first meeting them the other day. However, there’s some missing.

“Are there more of you?”

Jin, in the middle of swallowing a big sip of water, nods and hums.

Hoseok answers for him. “There’s Yoongi, who you saw already, and Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin.”

“They were there the other day,” Jungkook says, his tone dimming slightly.

“Namjoon and Taehyung will be joining us,” Jin adds, ignoring the last comment and keeping up his chipper attitude. “We always eat together whenever we can and they’re about somewhere.”

It doesn’t escape you that he didn’t mention Jimin’s name though.

“Taehyung is probably in the wine cellar,” Hoseok says.

“Ah, yes, Taehyung loves to pick out the wine for dinner.”

Jungkook snorts. “He thinks he’s a sommelier.”

You smile. “Well, does he make a good choice?”

“I can never tell,” Jungkook shrugs.

Hoseok jerks a thumb in his direction. “He’s not matured enough.”

“Hey!” Jungkook starts, but is interrupted by Jin, glancing toward the doorway.

“Ah, speak of the devil!”

You look up and see two more men entering. One has dark curls and sharp features, his posture relaxed but his gaze calculating as it sweeps over the room. The other one has dark grey hair and broad shoulders, wearing glasses that give him a sophisticated air. You recognise both of them from the other day.

“Yoongi said you’d come down,” the man with dark curls remarks as he approaches. His tone is calm, and a slight smile plays on his lips. “I’m Taehyung. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Hi, Taehyung,” you reply, shaking his hand. His grip is firm but not overbearing. He’s undeniably striking, and there’s something about his presence that feels both inviting and enigmatic.

The broad man steps closer, adjusting his glasses as he nods at you. “I’m Namjoon. I handle most of the boring work around here.” His smile is disarming, and his voice carries a hint of dry humour. “Finances, logistics, making sure this place doesn’t fall apart.”

“Nice to meet you, Namjoon,” you say, shaking his hand. His words make you curious about just how much he handles behind the scenes.

Namjoon takes a seat in the armchair across from you and sinks into it comfortably. “How are you? I imagine this isn’t how you thought your day would go.”

You smile wryly, keeping your responses guarded. “Not exactly, no.”

Taehyung sits down next to Jungkook and returns his attention to you immediately. “Yeah, you put up quite the fight. Most people would’ve frozen in your position.”

“Not the first time I’ve had to defend myself,” you reply simply, not offering much else.

There’s a beat of silence as they all exchange glances, clearly intrigued but not pressing further. You appreciate the lack of prying.

“So,” Hoseok pipes up with an ever-cheerful tone. “Yoongi mentioned you might like spicy food. We had the chef prepare something special just in case.”

“Spicy works for me,” you say, grateful for the change in subject.

Jungkook claps his hands together. “Great! That makes two of us. The food here is amazing – you’ll love it.”

As the conversation shifts to lighter topics, you glance around the room again. The faces around the table are new, but the setting is steeped in nostalgia. Flashes of your childhood in this house flit through your mind – running down these halls, playing games late into the night, and the quiet presence of your father when he was here.

You force yourself to focus, tuning back into the conversation just as Seokjin asks, “So, Y/N, what’s your impression of the estate so far?”

“It’s... different,” you reply honestly, but keep your tone light. “Bigger than I remember.”

Seokjin tilts his head. “You’ve been here before?”

You curse yourself for slipping up but recover quickly. “Not this one exactly. Just a similar setup.”

Namjoon raises a brow but doesn’t say anything else, and you’re thankful for the reprieve.

The door from the far end of the room opens, and an older woman with an apron tied around her waist steps in, carrying a pitcher of water. Her hair is neatly pinned back, and her face is composed but kind. You immediately recognize her – Ara, one of the housemaids from your childhood.

Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and something flickers in her expression. She knows who you are. You’re certain of it. But to your surprise, she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she places the pitcher on the coffee table and begins pouring water into the glasses.

“Thanks, Ara,” Jungkook says warmly, and she nods with a small smile.

When she reaches you, she hesitates ever so slightly before pouring the water, her gaze lingering on you. You hold her gaze for a beat, searching her face for any sign that she might say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she finishes and steps back, her expression carefully neutral.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Ara says softly, glancing at the rest of the table before leaving the room.

Namjoon watches her leave, then turns back to you with a faint smile. “She’s been here for a long time. Reliable, like everyone else here.”

You nod, trying to mask the unease and nostalgia that her presence has stirred up.

On the opposite side of the room, Yoongi comes in from the corridor you came through. With a smile at you, he then nods at everyone. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat before Jungkook inhales the entire table.”

Jungkook laughs, not bothering to deny the accusation. Everyone rises from their seats, and Yoongi gestures for you to follow them to the adjoining dining room.

"Taeheyung, did you choose a bottle for dinner then?" Hoseok asks.

"Of course. It’s spicy food so I brought up a Riesling."

"Nice one," Yoongi murmurs in approval.

"I want a beer," Jungkook says, with no regards to Taehyung's expression.

"More for us then."

As you walk, Namjoon falls into step beside you. “You’ll find this place can be both a refuge and a maze,” he says softly. “It’s easy to get lost, but it has its charms.”

You glance at him, wondering if there’s a deeper meaning to his words. “I’ll try not to get lost, then.”

He smiles faintly. “If you do, just call out. Someone will find you.”

Returning the smile, you find that any uneasiness you'd been feeling, begins to dissipate. It’s clear these men, while different in personality, share a bond that goes beyond mere loyalty to Jimin. You can see why they’ve been by his side for so long – they feel like a family in their own right.

Once everyone is seated at the table, conversation flows more freely and the atmosphere is surprisingly warm. Jin sits at one end of the table, serving himself a generous helping of the roasted chicken and rice dish.

“Jin-hyung, don’t hog all the drumsticks,” Jungkook whines as he watches Jin’s plate pile up.

“Then grab faster,” Jin quips with a smirk, not slowing his pace.

Taehyung leans back with an amused grin, observing the chaos. “I’m telling you, Jungkook, he does this every time. You should know better by now.”

“Should I?” Jungkook huffs dramatically. “Maybe next time I’ll just take the whole plate first.”

“Do it, and I’ll poison your portion,” Jin deadpans, but with a twinkle in his eye.

Hoseok chuckles as he passes you the salad bowl. “Don’t worry, Y/N. They act like this every meal. You get used to it.”

You smile faintly, watching them banter. It’s strange to see these men, who just days ago were all sharp glares and deadly precision, behaving like siblings teasing each other.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Do you always eat so quietly? Or are you just plotting something?”

You blink at him, caught off guard. His face is serious, but his lips twitch with suppressed amusement.

“Maybe I’m just afraid to get between Jin and his drumsticks,” you reply lightly.

Laughter ripples around the table, and Taehyung raises his glass in salute. “Smart answer.”

Jungkook grins at you between bites of food. “Yeah, but next time, you should at least try to grab a piece before Jin wipes out the whole plate.”

“I heard that,” Jin retorts, mock-offended. “I’m ensuring quality control.”

“You’re ensuring there’s nothing left for the rest of us,” Hoseok counters, sipping his water.

As the banter continues, you allow yourself to relax a little. It’s a stark contrast to what you expected when you first woke up in the Park estate.

“By the way, hyung,” Namjoon says, turning to Jin. “Have you checked the medical inventory reports? They were due yesterday.”

“Oh, are we doing shop talk at the table now?” Jin sighs dramatically. “Can’t a guy just eat in peace?”

“It’s your own fault for procrastinating,” Namjoon replies smoothly, adjusting his glasses.

“Don’t drag me into your world of schedules,” Jin retorts. “I’m a free spirit.”

“You’re just lazy,” Jungkook interjects, earning a flick of a bread roll from Jin.

“Enough guys,” Hoseok says, raising his hands in mock exasperation.

Namjoon’s phone buzzes on the table, followed immediately by Hoseok’s. They both glance at their screens, and their smiles fade slightly. Exchanging a look, they nod in unison before standing up.

“Sorry, something’s come up,” Namjoon says, sliding his phone into his pocket. “We’ll catch up later.”

“Don’t eat all the dessert without us,” Hoseok adds with a wink as they head out.

“Like we’d wait for you,” Jin calls after them before turning his attention back to the table.

“Do they always leave like that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Pretty much,” Taehyung replies, leaning back in his chair. “They’ve got the busiest jobs out of all of us. It’s a miracle they even sit down for meals sometimes.”

“Or they just like to be mysterious,” Jin adds, rolling his eyes. “Half the time, it’s probably nothing.”

You smile, but you feel the weight behind it all. These men might act carefree, but there’s no denying the underlying layers to their lives.

After a while, another two housemaids quietly enter to clear some of the empty dishes.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks, drawing your attention back to the table. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

You nod, brushing it off. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Understandable,” Jin says, rising from his seat. “You should rest. Recovering from an injury takes time.”

The others murmur in agreement as they begin to disperse, leaving you with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. The warmth of their camaraderie is undeniable, but beneath it all, you can’t shake the feeling of what’s happened, and what is undoubtedly yet to come.

Only Yoongi remains at the table. He sits across from you and smiles. “It’s bringing back memories, huh?” He asks, seeing right through you.

“Yep.” You look around. “Loads. I don’t know how this might sound, but it feels like I missed it.” You look across at Yoongi, expecting to see a puzzled expression but he just smiles.

“I think it’s normal. You were young when you came here and I don’t think you have many bad memories associated with the place. Only good ones, right?”

He’s right. Back then, coming here usually meant evenings filled with laughter, hiding in closets with Jimin, and Jiyoung’s occasional teasing if she was here. Your dad was still alive, and this house, in a strange way, felt like an extension of home. Now, it’s like walking through a memory you can’t decide if you’re grateful for or aching to forget.

You smile softly at Yoongi and nod, letting the silence stretch as you stand. He doesn’t press you further, only watching as you cross the room to the wide, cushioned window seat at the far end. The large pane of glass offered a view of the front of the house. Settling into the seat, you lean against the frame, your gaze drifting outward.

Outside, the estate is alive with movement. Men are stationed around the house, their presence a constant reminder of the life you’re now steeped in. From the East Wing, you spot four men climbing into a sleek black Escalade. Then your attention shifts to the house’s front steps, where Namjoon and Hoseok emerge, walking with purpose.

Behind them, another figure appears and you recognise him instantly.

Jimin, dressed sharply from head to toe, walks across the front drive. He pauses briefly in front of his Porsche, glancing back toward Hoseok, who says something you couldn’t hear. A moment later, Hoseok and Jin climb into the car, and Jimin gets into the driver’s seat. The engine roars softly to life, and within moments, his Porsche is gliding down the private lane, the Escalade following closely behind.

Your gaze lingers on the lane until the cars disappear into the distance. Though you can’t see the estate’s gate from here, you can picture it clearly in your mind – a familiar marker from years ago.

“Where are they going?” you ask without turning, your voice quiet but curious.

“Something’s wrong with one of the shipments we received from the Takahashis. Akira has been a bit of a pain these past few months. Jimin reckons they’re now involved with the Lees and are trying to keep us distracted.”

You hum in response, saying nothing more, but your eyes stay fixed on the far-off trees that bordered the estate. Centred in front of the west wing, a fountain catches your attention, its centrepiece intricate and elegant. It reminds you of the one in Jimin’s mother’s garden and absently, you wonder if that fountain was still there.

As you shift, a sharp pang shoots through your leg, where the knife wound throbs dully. Your wrist isn’t much better, but the pain in your leg is what makes you wince audibly.

Yoongi notices immediately, his gaze darting toward you. “I think you’re due for your meds again.”

You exhale softly, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You wanna stay here or go back up?”

You push yourself to stand, biting back a groan as the strain makes your voice tight. “Mm, I know I slept for days, but I’m actually still exhausted.”

Yoongi chuckles, rising to help steady you. “That’s to be expected. Don’t worry.” He gestures toward the far end of the room. “We’ll go up, but this time we’re taking the lift.”

You can’t help but smile faintly at his consideration. “Appreciate that,” you murmur as he slides a steadying arm under yours.

The dim light of the ensuite glows behind you as you step into the bedroom, a towel draped over your head. You had just woken up after another long nap, your internal clock utterly thrown off by the days of rest. It's late now, just past midnight and the night is quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the soft padding of your feet on the carpet.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you absentmindedly rub the towel through your damp hair.

Your gaze drifts to the shelves by the dresser table, now stocked with an array of skin and hair care products. A small smile tugs at your lips as you stand to examine them, fingers lightly trailing over the meticulously arranged items. Appreciatively, you sit and carry out a full skin and hair care routine – after three days without it, you definitely need it. You wonder if it was Ara who must have put them here. You're certain she recognised you at dinner and when you think about it now, you think it would be nice to speak with someone familiar.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the bed. Turning, you see the screen light up with an incoming FaceTime call. The name on the screen sends a swell of emotion through you.

“Moni?” you answer, settling back on the bed as your grandmother’s face appeared.

The sight of her brings a pang of guilt and relief all at once. Her tired eyes search your face and you can tell she must have been worrying nonstop. “Y/N,” she says softly, her voice warm. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure her quickly, though your heart aches knowing she must have been so anxious. “Really.”

She gives you a sharp look, the kind only she can manage, and her tone turns brisk. “Good. Stay safe there, you hear me? We're figuring out what's going on and Yoongi will tell you more when he can."

You nod, knowing better than to argue. Her expression softened just a little as she continued. “Tell me about Jimin.”

“He hasn’t said anything.”

“About recognizing you?” she asks, her brow lifting slightly.

You nod. “Nothing.”

She sighs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation crossing her features. “I don’t imagine he would. But I have no doubt he does. You haven’t changed much. He, however... he’s different.”

Her words hang in the air, and you find yourself looking up, your thoughts turning to Jimin.

“Life hasn’t been kind to him,” she continues, her voice tinged with melancholy. “When I last saw him, I didn’t see the same little boy I knew.”

A bittersweet smile crosses your lips. “Life hasn’t been kind to any of us.”

Your grandmother purses her lips, acknowledging the truth of your words. “Do you remember his father?”

“Of course I do,” you say without hesitation. “It’s hard to forget a man as cold as him.”

“And Mr. Lee?” she asks, her tone cautious.

You nod, already anticipating where this was headed. “I know, Moni,” you say quietly, cutting her off.

She looks up at you, her expression briefly surprised, but it fades just as quickly. "Of course, I should have expected you would piece it together."

“I know it was them,” you say, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “They did it. They killed Dad.”

She lets out a slow breath, her gaze steady on yours. “They were his best friends,” she says softly. “And then, all of a sudden…” She trails off.

You nod. You can only imagine that the sting of betrayal is still fresh even after all these years. Your grandmother's gaze remains on you, sharp and searching. “You’re there now, though… so, do you trust Jimin?”

You pause, memories of the night at your house flashing through your mind -- seeing Jimin in your kitchen with your gun aimed at him and he didn't retaliate in the slightest.

“I didn’t, at first,” you admit. “But I think I do. Besides, I trust Yoongi, and Yoongi trusts him."

She exhales slowly, relief evident on her face and a small smilw touches her lips. “You’re safe there, Y/N.”

You tilt your head slightly, meeting her gaze. “You trust Jimin?”

“I do,” she says without hesitation. “I trust him with you, and you’re my everything.”

The words wrap around your heart, and you wish you could reach through the screen to hug her. Instead, you nod and smile.

“You need to rest,” she instructs, her tone turning firm again. “I’ll call you later. Baek-hyun and I might come to see you. I think he wanted to see Yoongi too.”

Your lips quirk up at the thought. “That would be nice.”

"Good," she nods, and you eventually exchange goodbyes.

As the screen goes dark, you set the phone down, feeling a renewed sense of comfort. The thought of her visiting makes you smile softly as you sit in the quiet of the room.

Still restless though, you wander to the window, gazing out at the sprawling grounds bathed in the moonlight. You spot three men stationed at the back of the house, conversing together as they keep watch. The gardens stretch endlessly, just as you remembered. You can’t see the part of the grounds where Jimin’s mother’s garden would have been as it's hidden beyond the trees, but it would be nice to visit it tomorrow when the light returned.

As you shift, you feel your leg still aches, but it's different this time, more like the dull stiffness of inactivity than pain. Restless energy courses through you, and you decide a walk would do you good. The house is big enough and you need to keep your legs moving.

Stepping out of your room, you close the door quietly behind yourself and hear the faint hum of distant voices and sounds that tells you that not everyone is asleep yet.

As you move through the corridors, memories of Jimin filtered into your mind -- moments you hadn’t thought of in years now rising to the surface with startling clarity and they give you a strange sense of familiarity.

Eventually, your wandering brings you to your dad's painting again. You stop in front of it, the vivid strokes of lightning and sea send a wave of nostalgia over you, gratitude mingling with sadness. You remember you have a few of your father's paintings hanging up at home too and you make a mental note to ensure they're safely retrieved.

“Can’t you sleep, little bear?”

The voice, familiar and gentle, pulls you from your reverie. You turn to see Jimin standing a few feet away.

Dressed casually now, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up, he looks markedly different from the composed figure you saw earlier.

There’s a softness to him now, something that reminds you of the boy you once knew. His smile, small and tentative, feels as though it might disappear if the silence breaks too loudly.

You smile back, and the corners of his lips lift a little more.

Realising what he just said, his words stop you short – it’s the name of the book you gave to him the first time you met him, so many years ago.

Jimin steps closer, the lamp’s dim light casting soft shadows on his features.

As he nears, the subtle scent of his cologne reaches you – a delicate blend of cedarwood and something faintly sweet, familiar yet grounding. It lingers in the air between you, quietly drawing your attention to his presence.

Despite the weariness evident in his eyes, there’s a steadiness about him, a calmness that feels both reassuring and disarming.

“Y/N,” he says, your name leaving his lips quietly, as though testing how it feels after all these years. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognise you?”

“I wasn’t counting on it,” you admit, your voice soft. “I’m surprised you remember the book.”

Jimin’s smile grows, faint but genuine. “How could I not? I never got to thank you for it properly.”

“Thank me?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

He nods, shifting as if the memory is a tender one. “It was a comfort to me for a long time. I wasn’t allowed picture books of my own, so… thank you.”

You remember then how he once told you about his father’s strict rules. A cold man, his father likely saw no value in picture books – if they didn’t teach something useful, they weren’t worth having.

“You’re welcome,” you say softly.

Jimin’s gaze lingers on your face, and you feel a warmth creeping into your cheeks. Turning back to the painting, you focus on the familiar strokes of your father’s work.

“He was talented,” Jimin says quietly, standing beside you.

You smile faintly. “He was.”

After a moment, he adds, “I can have it moved to your room, if you like.”

You shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. This is where it belongs.”

Jimin laughs softly, the sound low and soothing. “It’s actually covering up a stain we couldn’t remove. You might remember it since it was you who put it there.”

“Me?” you ask, eyebrows rising in surprise as you look at him.

He nods, a playful glint in his eyes. “Yep. One of the nights our fathers were away, and you had to stay over. Jiyoung was babysitting us, and we were painting. When it was time for bed, you didn’t want to sleep, so you ran away from her – with all the paints.”

As he speaks, the memory surfaces, vivid and sheepishly embarrassing. “Oh gosh, I remember. I tripped, and the paint went everywhere.”

Jimin smiles wider now, clearly suppressing a laugh. “We tried to paint over it a few times, but the colours were too bright. Eventually, my dad decided to put this up.”

You shake your head, laughing softly, though you still feel a twinge of embarrassment. “I can’t believe that’s still here.”

Jimin’s smile lingers, and the space between you feels quieter, weighted by an unspoken familiarity. His eyes flicker back to the painting, then to you. “It’s been a long time since then,” he says, his voice gentle, almost reflective.

You glance at him, catching the subtle shift in his tone, something deeper beneath the surface. “Yes,” you reply, turning your gaze back to the painting. “Though being here again… it almost feels like no time at all.”

Jimin studies you for a moment, his expression softening. “I imagine it feels different,” he says, “without your father?”

“Exactly,” you answer, the memory stirring a pang of longing. “It felt safe wherever he was.”

“And now?” His question is soft, careful, as though he’s weighing each word before speaking.

You hesitate before answering, meeting his gaze. “I want to say yes,” you admit honestly, “but experience tells me not to feel safe anywhere.”

Jimin nods, his expression contemplative, and something about his calm presence makes your honesty feel less vulnerable. “You’ve learned not to trust anyone,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet understanding.

You look at him, searching his face, but his steady gaze gives nothing away except an openness that feels disarming.

“You’re right to think that,” he continues, his tone neither judgmental nor apologetic, as if he understands the walls you’ve built all too well.

The words sit between you for a moment before you ask, carefully, “Can I trust you?”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, silence fills the space between you.

“Yes,” he says, his voice quiet but certain. “But you’ll make that decision on your own.”

You nod slowly, his answer settling something inside you. There’s no urgency in his response, just a quiet assurance that feels like a small but solid anchor. It’s not a promise – it’s an invitation.

“Until then,” he continues, his voice softening, “please, make yourself at home. You’re safe here.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything else, but you catch the way he watches you, something unspoken but soft in his expression. You feel it yourself too – after so many years there is so much to say, to ask, but for now you take the peaceful quiet for what it is.

His presence feels closer now and you find yourself smiling faintly, glancing back at the painting.

It occurs to you now, how strange it is, that this time, there is something familiar that Jimin’s presence stirs in you – a reminder of what it feels like to trust, even if only a little.

note. thank you all so much for reading! please don’t be a silent reader :’) this fic takes me forever to write and I’d love for you to share your thoughts w me -- i really wanna know what you guys think! and rb toooo <3333

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