#it's so nice to get some quiet time with each other

[wrotebymii]

MAYBE ITS ME? … | Date Everything x gn!reader

Summary: After leaving your house because you can’t handle being hated in your very own home, Sam talks with you while your house becomes quiet…

Warning: minimal angst, honestly it’s a little fluffy with you and Sam. The objects are miserable now. There will be a part three and four!!

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | READ ME

Sam has been the most understanding friend what felt like your only friend she tries her hardest to bring you out of your slump and rationalize while simultaneously making fun of you as to why your relationships within your home have a burning hate for you.

She’s pointing fun yet logical, allowing you to rant about what you did and where you possibly went wrong with each. She sat across from you, leaned forward with her elbows on her knees in full concentration. You were sat back practically melting into the furniture that didn’t despise you, moving a hand around to exaggerate your speech with the other stuffing your face with food like you haven’t eaten in weeks. Lowkey, you haven’t.

“When I talked to Hoove, being nice and supportive while telling him not to work too hard—I thought I was being sweet ya’know—“ You stuff your face and swallow.

“—but apparently NOT?? He got angry with me, when I tried backtracking and apologize which crazy by the way he said he HATED ME?!” You shout, you can feel your face heat in anger at the thought before tears well up.

“Or how I tried to speak with Daisuke—“

“Who’s that one?”

“Oh my tableware, he’s like tall about yay-high with black hair a portion of it in a bun with like dishware themed robes…I heard from others in rhe kitchen that he’s into taking things seriously” You explain with a wave of the hand.

“I actually…heh I thought that we’d get along, he likes taking care of the dishes and even tries to fix them if they crack due to me but that’s not the point I too like fixing things, I want to fix things…but I guess unlike him or fake it till you make it like Tony…I just make it worse…”

“I…I just wanted to be friends or the I don’t know? Date? The whole reason of the damn glasses.” You mutter, you push the snacks away and use a napkin to clean yourself.

Dating them, any of them wasn’t the main goal. Sure it’s interesting but realizing the things around your home have their own lives in the house was so cool!

Being a hermit, a homebody it felt like a this was a way to help you as well, to get better with being social and maybe let you learn that the outside wasn’t so scary and not everything was out to get you.

But, you messed it up—perhaps you tried too hard, pushed too much, didn’t push enough, didn’t flirt when needed to, too flirty for some, or didn’t have enough specs for the correct dialogue and it came out lame. Now, you’re both miserable in the house and out of it.

Sam was trying, really was. As you spoke she’d occasionally glance around her apartment as if the ranting was making her paranoid about her house. Sighing she runs her hand down her face. She should’ve said something about the weird black stuff in that bathroom, maybe it was the fumes getting to you, but she shook her head.

“What else happened?…”

“The breaking point?”

“Yeah, what made you take off the glasses?”She asks, you groan, slumping back and wiping away a few stray tears as you remembered.

“I was going to the Breaker Box Club, ‘cause Eddie and Volt were still nice-ish from our previous conversations—I hadn’t talked to them in a bit by then cause I was trying to salvage whatever was going on between Harper the hamper and Dirk dirty clothes. I wanted to catch up and help Eddie with some of his work like last time.” You shift in your seat uncomfortably.

“When I entered it was packed, I was happy for them that their business was getting bigger but I knew it was gonna be a lot to take on so I went to find one of them to offer help…”

“…you try and help a lot…”

“I do, it’s…the only thing I can give to them—“ you stop yourself, continuing the story of the night prior.

“But, I knew I wasn’t welcomed. Everyone avoided me, whispering around like I was back in school. Again, Volt saw me. I remember waving at him as he walked over way too quickly. We talked as he pushed me along the way I came from, when I noticed I was confused and…worried I lost another person again…” You take in a deep breath.

“I did…the gossip around the club didn’t go unnoticed by the owners he wanted to get rid of me so it didn’t disturb the customers. I tried talking to him saying that I wasn’t a bad…person…” You don’t sound convinced yourself by that statement.

“He wasn’t having it, his…skin almost turned this light blue? His hand gripped my arm to drag my away from the prying eyes, it hurt…not to make him anymore mad I let him, throw me out…” Voice trailing off, Sam looks stunned, like this was the most juiciest soap opera ever.

“You got kicked out of your own break box—“

“YES, I GOT KICK OUT” you yelled but not at Sam, yelling at the absurd thought of being thrown out of your own break box.

“Crazy…” She elongates the ‘zy’ in the word, unsure how to handle the rest of this.

“Do you think there’s a way to start over with them? All of them I mean?”

The sun was setting, making the silence seem light and comforting. You’re tired, and don’t know where to tread next, so many ideas run in your mind that you—wait…

There might be a very dubious way to get your life back to normal. The thought felt terrible, too personal and guilty, but you don’t seem to have any other option. At least not right now. So, you’ll pin the idea with Keith in the back of your mind. And let it fester or wilt as you and Sam brainstorm together.

Back at the house.

The ones that cheered for your leave are quiet, basking in the dullness of the house. Sure they can talk to one another but…that’s uneventful. The house is missing apart of itself the part of you. The human part. The fragile, unpredictable, unproductive, and lonely ways of you has gone missed.

But everyone refuses to say it out loud. They’re all still bitter and angry with how you treated them—wait…why exactly are they all mad? Some can’t remember but feel justified, although, looking back they just remember you trying. No.

No. You hurt them. They think…

…

…

Okay—well they aren’t sure…not anymore.

The lights are off because there’s no need to see, the sinks and baths don’t run because there’s no one to draw it for, the wall creaks and settles sadly, coffee pot remains unused along with the beauty products, television, books, sofa, stove—all of it. All of them are…completely bored?

Maybe, making your life inconvenienced and almost down right harassed in your day to day life after you stopped interacting with them wasn’t the right way to express their anger. A day turned to four then a week then two weeks.

Dorian can feel the worry in every room about when you’ll return, he huffs. Bedroom Dorian stands still, looking up at the ceiling then down to the floor, watching Florence quickly scramble around her time book with all the new complaints and meetings for Celia.

He reluctantly…steps forward. Away from his position to stand right in front of the poor woman. He rather be doing his job, the thing he thinks so highly of. However, he too is miserable more miserable than laundry room closet Dorian because what is his purpose now that the one who he open and closes for…is gone?

But he’s convinced himself that speaking with Celia will help.

Or so he hopes.

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[erwinsvow]

you’re running late, and you’re never late, not for anything. it’s your own fault—you just wanted to finish the chapter of the book you were reading, just had to know if they got back together yet or not. 

it was so good that you were immersed in their world and completely forgot about your own—the one where it’s sunday night, and you’ve been staying up each day of the weekend and your schedule is off because of this stupid, fantastic book.

your alarm isn’t set and you fall asleep with the book still open, the page you were on forever lost. 

you wake up because something in your body is telling you that this is unnatural. how relaxed the sleep feels, how comfortable you are, how your alarm still hasn’t gone off and you’re so well-rested. when you open your eyes and grab your phone to check the time, you jump up.

eight am. more specifically, seven minutes past eight. school starts in less than thirty minutes and you haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.

fuck, fuck, fuck. stupid book. they didn’t even kiss and make up yet. you scamper through your apartment, brushing your teeth while assembling your work bag, throwing in the lunch you packed yesterday and filling your water. you lock your door while tugging your sneakers on and leave through the main entrance while you make sure your laptop is in your bag. and in all the commotion, you don’t even realize that someone held the door open for you.

you mutter thank you while running out, checking the time again, turning back only to see a glimpse of a broad back and salt and pepper curls. 

fuck. phantom neighbor. and you didn’t even get to see what he looked like because you’re so behind, possibly for the first time since you’ve moved here. 

what if he didn’t hear your quiet thank you? what if he thinks you’re rude? you basically jog to the school, walking in with a sheen of sweat over you as your kids were beginning to line up by your classroom door.

you suppose it was a lion king sort of day, anyways. while the kids are glued to the screen and you’re contemplating if you qualify for worst teacher of the year, you sit and try to understand why you’re so hell-bent on meeting this man and figuring out how old he is and seeing for yourself if he’s as nice as your other neighbors think he is.

even if he is, which is more likely than not, given how he held the door open for you even though he was coming in before you, it’s not like it means anything. you level it out to be sheer curiosity—when you can’t see something, you don’t believe it’s real. and all of that aside, you have a bit of a complex when it comes to making people in your life, especially ones older than you, like you. it’s been that way since you were a kindergartner, bringing drawings to your teachers in the hopes that they could tell you were a good kid. and even now, when a student pads up to your desk with the tenth drawing of a rainbow that day, you smile so big and pin it up behind you somewhere and tell them thank you, and mean it.

maybe ever since mrs. p told you he was nice, you just needed to make sure he would be nice to you too.

god. it’s all true what they say—you really never outgrow some things. it’s really one of those days. you put on finding nemo right after, your friend across the hall standing in your window with a quizzical look, motioning to the screen. you step out to explain, but you don’t think your students would notice if you all but evaporated while dory is on the screen.

“two movies? how hungover are you? wait, yesterday was sunday-”

“i’m not hungover! i just… i was late and i think i left half the lesson plans at home anyways. and they’ve been good and the year’s almost over so,” you wave your hand around, looking for more ways to justify it.

“it’s fine. mine are watching cars right now. but then again, i’m actually hungover.”

“what happened to yesterday was sunday, huh?”

“well if you had come out with us, you’d know we got sidetracked. there was, like, so many cute guys there. i think all the rich doctors come there after their shifts or something.”

“next time. i promise.”

“sure. that’s what you said last time,” she says, laughing and smiling to make sure you know she’s just kidding. she starts walking back towards her classroom. “i gotta go. but let me guess, you were reading a book?”

god, were you really so predictable? you go back inside and watch the rest of the movie just to distract yourself from your own thoughts. it’s not until much later, when you’re back home, clean and showered, that you remember what she had said. 

all the doctors come there, or something like that. maybe next weekend you should tag along, meet the phantom face-to-face. then reality checks in—you don’t even know what kind of doctor he is, much less that he works at this specific hospital and goes to this specific bar. and he works nights, meaning he wouldn’t even be there, not unless the bar was open at eight in the morning, the time you had seen him returning home this morning.

god. give it a rest, you try to tell yourself. your mind is spinning stories, likely out of sheer boredom. 

j. abbot, whoever he is, works nights and opens doors for his rushing, running late neighbors. he’s also very nice and might possibly go to bars with his colleagues. that night while you cook dinner, you’re so distracted with what the j could stand for that you miss six-thirty altogether, the time you know he leaves for work. 

you want to catch another glimpse but you haven’t since the first one and the one this morning. and every time you try to remind yourself that you sound crazy, it fades away when you remember he held the door open for you. 

was it a bit much to turn off the kitchen hood to see if you could hear him at seven, incase he too was running late today? maybe. you still do it though.

and he’s a doctor, you tell yourself while moodily stabbing at your pasta. doctors probably don’t run late for their shifts, even though you can’t recall the last time you had a single appointment that was on time.

well, you don’t know anything else about john abbot. or maybe jake abbot. james abbot? you shake your head as if you could physically remove the thought from your brain before settling on your couch with the book from yesterday night. you make sure to set your alarm first, turn off love island, and then dig in. it’s only eight or so, and you can probably finish the rest of it before you go to bed for the night.

or maybe the universe is really against you finishing this book. not even thirty minutes later, you hear it—a loud, pained yell, not the kind that you think is just someone being silly, the kind that makes you get up and look through your peephole—something you have been doing a lot of lately—and investigate as much as you can from behind your door. and then just a little later, you see mrs. p open her door, holding her hand with a towel wrapped around it. 

you think she’s coming for your door, so you open it up immediately.

she shows you her hand, unfortunately sliced up by a mishap with her kitchen knife while she tried to make a late dinner.

“i think we should go to the emergency room,” you say, trying to stay calm. it’s something you’ve gotten pretty good at, ever since you started teaching. never freak out because then the kids freak out is a sort of daily mantra for you and your school of education friends. 

mrs. p, however, looks queasy and can’t stare at her hand for too long. before she can say anything else, you run in to grab a jacket for her and then one for yourself, and then you lock the apartments, tell her to keep holding the towel tight but not to look down at it, and hurry her to the nearest emergency room.

and around eight-thirty, an hour and a half into what he thought would be just any other shift, jack finds his elderly neighbor sitting in the chairs with a bloody kitchen towel around her hand, and someone vaguely familiar at the window, catching the ending half of you arguing that she needs to be seen sooner rather than later because she’s getting dizzy from the blood—

“-not the blood loss, no, but still, i think it’s a valid reason-”

“okay, okay, miss. and what is your relationship to the patient? daughter?”

“no, no i’m her neighbor-”

[kuriri9]

Kitty!

[zoro, shanks, ace]

synopsis: how to take care of them if they were cats 

author’s note: should i make this a small series? if so, who should i do next >_< (my requests are also opened atm! go visit my pinned!!)

Zoro:

Zoro kitty has a weirdly bad sense of direction, and no one knows how to fix that. Maybe you should install a tracking system on his collar just in case if he gets lost (he will)

Has a strange obsession with swords and alcohol. Will force you to switch on the TV every night to watch swordsmen competition shows

He likes to hang out with his friends a lot, but every time they meet up for a play date somebody starts a fight with another group of kitties

Zoro’s arch enemy seems to be this blond cat named Sanji that lives next door. Last time they were together alone they tore the neighborhood garden into shambles (4% of the time they’re nice to each other, but you shouldn’t risk it)

Isn’t too affectionate, but he does protect you when it comes to it, and you know he loves you

Shanks:

Shanks kitty likes to go out a lot. So don’t worry if you came back home to find him gone one day, he’ll return by himself when he’s done partying!

Likes to drink alcohol for some reason, you better lock up your liquor cabinet before he gets to it

Loud, and loves attention. Don’t ignore him for too long, he’ll tear the house down

He’s friendly too, anyone can give him a pet, but his stomach is reserved for you only.

Rarely hisses at anyone, unless they show threat to you or his other friends, then you better watch out, he might get in a fight

Ace:

Stray kitty you found on the streets. Very quiet and vigilant at first, but as long as you’re kind to him, he’ll show his clingy side. Just be patient

Ace has a naturally warmer temperature, so don’t worry, he’s not sick!

It may not look like it but he is very sensitive emotionally, so do give him a lot of attention before he thinks he did something wrong that made you upset

He will isolate himself if he overthinks or if he’s upset. A pet on the head and some kind words would definitely help in times like this

Please be patient and love him a lot!

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

james being with a girl out of his league, and she lets him fuck her and he's completely in awe, he couldn't stop bucking his hips and whining, even after he cums he keeps going because he just cannot pass up fucking her, his hesitant touches while basically crying from how amazing it feels, calling her mommy and being praised the entire time

Btw it's Archie I'm going insane

A/n: Really thought you could just leave me after you found a man 🙄

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, light dacryphilia, overstimulation, praise kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

The parties in the Thrash scene were basically just the same people in different settings. There were a few gangs that came and went but for the most part it was the same hundred or so crowds piling into different venues, houses, wherever the party was at with good music.

You were bound to party with the same people, hear the same bands, it didn't matter because it was all for the fun of it, and god was it fun.

Metallica was a newer band on the scene, they were getting out there and making a big fuss. You liked them quite a bit, mostly you liked the quiet, timid front man, James Hetfield. He was cute, shy, had the look of metal in him but the second you tried talking to him he got this big ol' grin and his cheeks just lit right up before he found a way to get out of there.

You found out little bits of him from other people, he was a year younger than you, raised quite religiously, sweet guy, loud when you got to know him.

James found out what he could about you from anyone and everyone he could, your favourite foods, bands, what you ordered from the bar, cigarettes you smoked. He made a little list of things, thinking one day he'd get the courage to get you a gift basket or something and that would swoon you.

What ended up happening instead was you went to see Metallica, got right up front, and when their set was done you pulled James off the stage. Every time you came up to him he died a little bit inside, you were gorgeous, well known around Frisco, like the same music as him, GORGEOUS, and you were talking to him? Now you were dragging him off stage, offering a room that wasn't occupied by three other men.

Your parents were out of town, granting you the house to yourself, and you were taking this opportunity. James was not going to turn it down, he'd be an idiot to turn such an offer down, but it wasn't turning out the way he'd fantasized, with him pulling up in a nice car, whisking you away to a fancy restaurant with you in a dress and him in a suit. He'd get you all your favourite things, and then at the end of the night you'd make sweet, sweet love by the fireplace.

You were driving your beat up old car, James was sitting next to you in the passenger seat and nervously fidgeting with his hands in his lap. When you got to your house he complemented the furniture, you had to laugh at how shy he still was.

He was inexperienced, but when you got to your room and kissed him his worries washed away some, his hands holding your face, slowly slipping into your hair. He followed your lead, your tongue venturing into his mouth. For several moments you just stood in the middle of your room, getting used to each other.

You started leading James back to your bed, he pulled away just before you made it there. "Wait, uh, shouldn't-shouldn't we close the door first?" He asked with a nervous chuckle, looking past you before losing his balance, you had him at a weird angle, and falling onto the bed, trying and failing to make it look like he was just sitting down.

You glanced back at the opened door. "My parents aren't home, Jamie." The nickname nearly made him moan. He watched your hips sway as you walked back to the door. "But if it makes you more comfortable." His eyes darted back up when you turned around after closing the door.

"It-it does." He choked out, cheeks flushing as the reality of the situation hit him.

You came back and straddled his lap, resting a hand on his shoulder and one in his hair as your lips crashed down on his once more. He kissed you back, trying to be more dominant this time but it wasn't working out too well for him.

He was still leaning back on his hands, not sure if he should touch you or not, let you do all the work, maybe then you wouldn't notice how little he knew what he was doing.

The kiss deepened, you got needier. It didn't feel like he was that into it, he wasn't touching you like everyone else was, he wasn't saying anything either. Eventually you had to pull away. "We can stop if you want, James." You said, hot breath fanning over his face.

James was quick to shake his head, hands instinctively going to your hips to hold you there. "No! No-no, I want this, please don't stop." His grip on you was firm, pleading. His eyes flickered over your face desperately.

You smiled back down at him. "Alright." You purred, getting off his lap and sinking onto your knees in front of him. His eyes bugged out of his head, jaw falling, he felt like a cartoon character but he didn't have time to think about that when you were getting ready to do this to him.

You pulled your hair back before realizing you didn't have an elastic. You smirked up at James and took one of his hands. "Hold this for me, would you?" You asked, guiding it to your hair. He took the makeshift ponytail and held it loosely. You took his bullet belt off, dropping it on the floor, and went to undo his fly.

His jeans got pulled down just enough for his cock to spring free, James was frozen through all of this, eyes wide and face flushed a deep shade of red, similar to his leaking dick. "So needy for me." You mused, placing two fingers on his tip and pulling down, letting it bounce back up to his stomach, drawing a whine from him. "Just let me take care of you, don't worry about a thing." You assured.

You were impressed by his size, bigger than average when it came to both length and girth, you were pleasantly surprised. Your lips wrapped around his tip, slowly taking more of him into your mouth while he held your hair back, watching you take him deeper down your throat.

James bit his lip so hard it drew blood, he just had to sit there and watch you blow him like it was an every day thing. Like it wasn’t driving him insane.

You took half of him then pulled back slightly, clenching your hand into a fist to suppress your gag reflex. You hollowed your cheeks and took the rest of him, watching as his eyes rolled back, his hips jerking forward. Albeit a little unexpected you weren’t too surprised he came so fast, it just made this a little more fun for you.

You pulled off of him and looked up, wiping your mouth. His cock was already twitching back to life, which was a good sign. “Is that so?” You asked with a smirk.

James stared back at you, mortified that he’d cum that quickly. “I-I didn’t- sorry, I can still do it, I promise!” He assured you, mostly himself. He wrapped a hand around his cock and gave it a few firm strokes, you caught the little whine he let out at the sting of sensitivity.

You smiled up at him, pleased with his need to keep going. “Alright.” You mused, standing back up and pulling your shirt off. His eyes were glued to your tits, the deep red shade of your bra. “Why don’t you lay down, then?” James was frozen in place for a moment, just staring at you, but he listened, scrambling to get further back on the bed. You unclipped your bra and took the rest of your clothes off. James attempted to do the same but he was still shellshocked that you were actually doing this with him.

He kicked his jeans and boxers off the edge of the bed, shirt and battle vest getting tossed off somewhere as well. His cock stood tall, leaking pre again. You crawled onto the bed and straddled his lap once more, hands resting on his chest. You bit your lip, doing a once over of him. “Fuck, it feels good to finally have you.” You purred, hands gliding over his skin.

“To have me?” James asked, completely thrown for a loop. “It’s good- you? You’re lucky?” He stammered.

You laughed at him and nodded. “Yeah, a lead singer in my bed? That’s good.” You leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss again. He was almost too surprised to kiss you back. You kept one hand in his hair, the other reaching down to his dick, lining him up with your cunt.

“Should-shouldn’t I make you cum, first?” He asked, not wanting to break the kiss so he just spoke into your mouth. His jaw dropped as his tip got pushed into you, a soft moan leaving him. “I-I’m sorry.” He muttered breathlessly once he bottomed out in you. You looked up at him, seeing that look of pure ecstasy on his face once more. Your smirk widened into a grin as you felt him twitching inside you.

“What? Gonna cum again?” You asked, lifting your hips before slamming them down, a moan leaving you. A squeak left James but he shook his head. “No? Gonna hold out just for me?” He nodded vigorously, desperate to please you. You repeated the motion with your hips, moving faster while James lay under you, trembling, forcing his hips to stay still no matter how badly he wanted to buck up into you.

You sat back, bouncing faster on his cock. He couldn’t hide them anymore, his fingers digging into your hips and forcibly holding you still so he could fuck you like he wanted. A few fast thrusts and he was slowing down again, his cum pumping into you. Your grin widened further.

The blush from his cheeks was spreading down his chest and stomach, he was so big but so small as a person. You were definitely going to have fun with him. “You’re not done yet, are you?” You asked, just to be flipped onto your back with a gasp, James now hovering over you. He shook his head, looking over your body. He loosened his grip on your hips and rolled his hips into you, brows furrowing slightly as his still sensitive dick was pushed back into you for more.

You wrapped your arms around him, helping him out a little by shifting so he was angled to hit your sweet spot with every thrust. Gradually his thrusts grew faster, still staying deep, until he found a good rhythm he could keep that had you moaning loudly for him. He tried to ignore the building high in him once more, hoping it would just go away and he would have to stop again before making you cum.

“Hah! Fuck, Jamie, yes!” You moaned, hands roaming over his back. Your moaning wasn’t helping him postpone his third orgasm. “Oh god, James!” Your head fell back against the pillow, cunt squeezing him tighter. You smiled, feeling his cock twitch. When he pushed his face into the crook of your neck you knew he was done for, hips sputtering, your moans falling right onto his ears. You figured after that he was done, but he started moving his hips again. “Jamie, you don’t-”

“Yes, yes I do.” He mumbled against you, weakly kissing your neck. “Gonna make you cum, I promise.” His words were starting to slur, mind fogging slightly. You smiled, impressed with his determination.

“What a good boy.” He whined at that, hips accidentally snapping into yours at the name, when he heard you moan at it he did it again, and again when he realized you liked it, you liked it a lot. It was brutal for him, pulling almost all the way back and ramming his cock back into you, a painful feat for him, but he didn’t complain.

His hands were squeezing your hips, before he reminded himself to not hurt you. You weren’t fragile, he knew that better than anyone. He was big, and he knew that much. He was huffing and whining, hands ghosting up your sides. “So-so pretty.” He mumbled, pulling back enough to look at you, resting on his elbows. His cum was acting as lube, making it easier for him to fuck you, but it was impossible for him to hold onto himself, already slipping again as he felt his gut tighten.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling his face into your chest. “Fuck, such a good boy, gonna fuck yourself braindead.” You mused, voice wavering with moans.

James moaned loudly against you, lips parting and his tongue lolling out, lazily licking you. “Ngh! Oh, god, mommy…” He mumbled, shooting up when he realized what he just called you, his hips halting in their movements, ruining the high that was building. “I didn’t-! I don’t think, like, I wouldn’t-” He was cut off by your laughter before you pulled him back down.

“It’s ok, baby boy, just keep fucking mommy until you can’t anymore.” You purred, rubbing his sides to encourage him to continue. He slowly started rolling his hips again, quickly finding his old pace before slowing down again, hoping to push his next high back. He was just too sensitive, it hurt to fuck you but it hurt so good. “Mh, that’s good, that’s really good, Jamie.” You moaned, though the constant switching his pace and rhythm was an interesting choice.

James’s arms slowly wrapped around you, moving nervously like he was scared you’d kick him out any second for cumming before you… not that he could count how many times at this point. His thrusts became more desperate, faster until he was just humping into you like a bunny in heat, whining against your chest. “M’sorry, mommy, m’sorry- I-I can’t stop, can’t stop cumming!” Tears were building in his eyes, a few rolling down his cheeks.

You had to suppress your giggles, he was so out of it, so needy. So adorable. “Hah, that-that’s ok, Jamie.” You assured, body bouncing with his thrusts. You ran your fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face so you could see his little pout, brows knit together. “Such a sweet boy, just wants to make mommy feel good~” He whined, leaning into your touch. “Just one more, alright?” He nodded, burying his face back in the crook of your neck, desperately rutting into you.

“Just one more.” He mumbled to himself. “Just-just one more.” He kept repeating it to himself, his cock pulsing painfully inside you, your gummy walls squeezing him so tight. “Just one- just one-!” His hips snapped into you a last time, body jolting as strings of cum shot into you. “Ah~ oh-oh… Mommy…” He tried to keep himself held above you but he was so tired, slowly lowering himself on top of you.

His arms were still wrapped around you, holding you tight while he was buried to the hilt in your pussy. Your arms were wrapped around him as well, hands running through his hair. “My boy’s so tired…” You purred, kissing the top of his head. James bucked his hips into you again. “Jamie?” You asked, turning his head to look at you. His eyes were glazed over, lips still pursed in a pout.

James shook his head. “M-m’not done…” He mumbled. “Gonna-gonna make mommy cum.” You smiled at him, kissing his temple.

“What a sweet boy.” You mused. Relaxing back into the mattress as he kept rutting into you, desperate to please you but too tired to actually do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Bonus Story~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James was at a bar, Metallica had just played through their set. He was trying to be a part of conversations as people came up to him but he was quiet and kind of tired. The bartender came over and handed him his drink, he looked at it and saw it wasn’t what he ordered. “Hey-hey, excuse me?” He called, trying to get the workers attention.

“Excuse me, sir?” You called, coming up behind James. It got the bartenders attention and he came back. “He didn’t order this.”

He looked at the drink and then to you, then to James. “Sorry, what was it?” He asked, taking the glass back.

“Just a Jack is fine.” James said, smiling politely at the bartender, who then went to get the right drink made.

You wrapped your arms around James, nuzzling into his neck from behind. Lars came over, eyeing the situation curiously as he sat down. You pecked his cheek and told him you’d be by the stage, to which he nodded. “Dude.” Lars muttered. “How the hell did you get that?”

James stared at you, thanking the bartender and sipping from his drink. “I have no idea.” He answered, shaking his head, knowing that later tonight you’d be driving him home, sneaking into his bed, and he’d be begging for you to let him cum again.

[true-blue-sonic]

I got inspired to write Merhog fanfic ^-^

The Purpose of Fishing

Words: 1835

☆☆☆☆☆

Fishing, as Sonic has extensively experienced ever since he took up this new hobby, can have far more to it than just getting said animals out of rivers and oceans.

The big problem lies in that Sonic doesn’t like eating fish. And emptying the ocean for fish that he won’t do anything with wouldn’t be so nice of him, the speedster quickly determined. Thus he’s taken the angle of sport fishing, and everything he catches gets dutifully released, after he’s logged each fish in his notebook with a description.

And a picture drawn from memory, which has caused Sonic quite some hilarity ever since picking that habit up.

With the tip of his tongue pinched between his teeth Sonic drags the pencil over the paper. The fish had a tail shaped like so, and fins sticking out here and there… “Tadaah!” the speedster concludes as his shoddy sea bass reaches a poor completion: if the one Sonic fished up had looked like this, it couldn’t have been doing so well. Baby steps, the speedster laughs to himself. This sea bass at least looks a bit more like a fish than the previous three basses he’s drawn. Not that his environment helps: Sonic’s notebook rests on one knee, while with the other he’s awkwardly keeping his fishing rod pressed against the wooden pier he’s sitting on. Meanwhile he’s trying to draw in a half-scrunched downward lean to not have the book slide away. At the same time he’s keeping an ear perked up, in case anything were to bite into the hook trawling through the waves still. Considering all that, his artworks are actually quite beautiful!

But as Sonic un-scrunches himself to put his notebook away and grab his fishing rod anew, the ocean waves ripple in that quiet, silent way that shows a predator is lurking nearby.

Sonic has long learned it’s actually just his new Merhog friend popping in for a visit, though.

“Heya!” he thus greets, notebook dropped beside him as he looks up to shoot Silver a beaming smile. “How goes it, Silver?”

Golden eyes narrow his way.

“It was going well,” Silver huffs as he holds the hook of Sonic’s fishing rod above the ocean’s surface.

“Oh! Be careful with that,” Sonic realises, leaning over to grab the hook before it can get stuck in Silver’s skin like it does with the fish Sonic’s catching. Considering how the Merhog shakes himself out, Sonic can put two and two together… “You didn’t get hurt, did you?” he inquires, studying Silver all over. His body seems unmarred, but still…!

“Nah. A bit close for comfort, but I saw it in time.” In one fell swoop Silver smooths down his head quills. “I did lose the fish I was tracking down, though. But that’s alright, it was just for a snack. I’ll catch a real meal later.”

Reeling in his rod so the hook is safely away from Silver, Sonic hums apologetically. “Sorry, I’d hoped something would bite while I was busy. But no such luck.”

“The fishes know people try capturing them here. Only dumb ones or tiny ones go to such shallow waters,” gets mulled back. With a lash of his tail Silver propels himself above the water’s surface, hands grasping the pier to push him up further. Sonic raises an arm to protect himself against the spray of salty droplets, notebook protected with his other hand…

Though as he peeks open an eye, Silver’s gaze isn’t on him, but on Sonic’s equipment. It gets given a curious poke, Silver studying it all over. “Though I’m surprised that there’s even a single fish that would bite this tiny thing in the first place.”

Sonic’s eyes drop to the fishing rod laying beside him. Sturdy wood and strong rope are its main constituents, and Big had assured Sonic its weight and handling made it great for starters and semi-experienced fishers. “Tiny?” he thus repeats.

“Hmhm. It doesn’t look like anything special. Makes sense that you throw everything you catch back. It’s all very small fishes.”

“Well, small or not, I’ve caught a lot with it so far!” Reaching out Sonic grabs his notebook, showing Silver his writing and cruddily-drawn pictures. “A sea bass just now, even.”

Silver studies the indication of length Sonic had scrabbled beside the latest drawing, before making an approximation of it with his hands. A foot or so, and Sonic nods. “That is really not very big. You’ll be hungry again in no time if you ate that,” Silver states next, in a tone of voice that Sonic can’t exactly place. Definitely blunt, but also a bit… worried, maybe?

Still, Sonic smiles. “Heh. Anything bigger than this, and the line is going to break, you know.”

Sonic’s poor fishing rod gets regarded as if it’s a product of most inferior quality that should be ashamed for ever having made its way to an ocean to proceed with fulfilling its purpose. “Wait here,” the Merhog hums.

And then he pushes himself away, and sinks underneath the water’s surface with nary a ripple.

Sonic is left staring at his smooth departure.

“…Huh. Seems like someone has opinions on you, old girl,” the speedster pipes up to his fishing rod, giving it a couple of assuring pats on the handle. It honestly makes him laugh, a fond headshake about Silver and his peculiarities following as he scoots back towards the pier’s edge. Some studying of the ocean below Sonic’s feet reveals only blue, and no glinting of silver scales, so Sonic figures Silver is not around anymore to potentially get snagged in the hook.  

With some whistles Sonic casts out anew, the wind caressing his fur and the sun making the ripples of the ocean shine so gorgeously. With some time and patience, a couple more fish find themselves snatched up and quickly studied before being let loose anew. Peace and tranquillity enshroud Sonic…

Until the ocean stirs again.

But this time, not quietly and silently.

Instead the water’s surface gets broken by bubbles and rapidly-growing ripples, white foam rising up too. “What the-?” Sonic gasps, eyes widening. He can’t have caught anything big himself, there’s no tension on his rod, but he reels it back in just in case-

His hook is empty. But the ocean waves glitter with silver and grey…!

And Sonic’s jaw drops open wide at a giant fish getting unceremoniously pushed above the water’s surface, enshrouded in cyan.

Beside it, Silver surfaces as well, sharp teeth spread out in a smug grin that’s almost as big as the fish. “Hey,” gets nodded Sonic’s way most casually. “I got you a far better fish than whatever you can catch with that tiny thing. So you’ve got something decent to eat.”

Oh, Sonic thinks to himself. Oh yikes. That fish is altogether massive. Easily as long as Sonic is tall, and definitely more broad. At his feet Silver pulls himself up on the pier once more, a clawed hand giving Sonic a sympathetic pat on his knee. “I get it. Those fish you’re catching with your rod won’t fill you up anytime soon. So here,” the Merhog continues, as his psychokinesis drops his catch on the pier as well. The wood heaves out a pained creak, which Silver doesn’t react to otherwise. “So you’ll be fed for the coming days.”

“Er…” Sonic responds. Fed? “Thanks…?”

Smugly Silver nods. “You’re welcome. It’d be sad if you were to starve because you couldn’t catch anything big. It’s okay: I had to learn to be good at hunting fish too. It’s a process.”

Sonic’s mind clues together that he and Silver seem to have entirely different ideas about what the purpose of Sonic’s hobby is.

“That’s sweet of you,” he thus settles on, before clearing his throat. “But… Silver, I don’t eat these fish.”

Far less smugly Silver takes to staring. “Come again?”

“I catch them for fun, not sustenance,” Sonic explains as a little smile begins forming on his face. This specific poor fish certainly didn’t have fun: it looks a little bit too dead for that. Considering Silver’s gleaming sharp teeth and fingers adorned with threatening claws, Sonic can easily put two and two together once again. “That is, I let them go because I don’t want to eat them. I don’t eat fish every day,” he adds. Or all that often to begin with. Almost never, even.

“Oh… Hm.” Silver rubs his chin slowly. “So fishing for you is… entertaining?”

“Yeah! It’s just relaxing to sit here and listen to the waves and make my little drawings. Plus, I got to meet you, and that makes it the best hobby of all,” Sonic winks. It earns him a curious look, but then Silver smiles back.

“That is true, I guess…”

“I just don’t want to empty out the ocean with fish I won’t do anything with. That’s why I put them back again.”

Which… is actually not going to work with this fish, considering the status of its aliveness which shall never become anything different from what it is now. “But thank you for catching me something,” Sonic continues with a hum. “I’ll definitely eat this one, because you got it for me.”

“Well… If you’re sure. It’s a bit too big for just me to eat.”

“Of course I’m sure,” Sonic warmly smiles back. The matter of Silver being longer than Sonic is and thus maybe also needing more food to stay alive is one Sonic decides not to touch upon. A silence follows, in which Sonic ponders how he’s supposed to drag a giant fish along with him back home and in which Silver’s eyes flit between him and the giant fish in question. Carrying a Merhog in his arms who is in turn carrying a massive fish with psychic powers might create a bit of an unwanted spectacle… “I have a friend who is a fish expert and also very strong. I’ll go get him and ask for help,” the speedster settles on with a chuckle.

But before he goes to find Big or comes up with an explanation for how he acquired this massive fish in the first place, the speedster flops down and grabs his notebook anew.

He draws the giant fish, and its details. But at the same time he also draws Silver, chasing after it with sharp teeth bared and claws outstretched. It becomes a bit of a silly drawing because the Silver on the paper is far goofier than the Silver who’s pulled himself onto the pier more so he can snuggle against Sonic’s back while leaning over a peach shoulder to see, but Sonic nods contently at it all the same.

And the next day, after Sonic and Big have taken the fish to Big’s place and the thing has been slowly roasted over the night so they can actually eat it, Sonic and Silver both agree that it is the tastiest fish both of them have ever had.

I've got another question about Merhog!Silver, actually: what does he eat? I presume it's fish or maybe kelp and algae because he's a sea creature... but I was thinking about Sonic and his newfound fishing hobby that you described. I had to chuckle about the idea that Silver sees Sonic with his fishing rod, raises an eyebrow, and then returns with a freshly-caught fish (like, something MASSIVE, lol. Like a 15-foot tuna XD) for Sonic to take home <3

your idea gave me drawing inspo! 🤍

[saythenametotheworld]

dear reader... again | dy, jn, jh

One island. One daughter. Three possible dads. You just wanted peace and quiet—what you got was chaos, old flames, and a little girl asking for three dads.

Genre: destination au, smut Pairing: NCT Doyoung/Johnny/Jaehyun x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) MDNI Notes: 22k words. Loosely based on the 2008 movie, Mamma Mia!. Sequel to dear reader, but can be read as a standalone fic Disclaimer: I do not know them, nor claim they would ever in real life behave the way they were portrayed in this fic. If you see the same exact fic in a different blog, for ENHYPEN, that is me. I did not plagiarize myself. Otherwise, pls let me know.

The drawing room was a war zone. Empty cups on every surface, leftovers here and there, balloons all over the floor. Your daughter had retreated to her bedroom to play with her new toys, leaving you with a garbage bag in one hand and three ghosts of your past sitting awkwardly on the couch.

You didn’t look at them as you threw another stack of paper plates into the bag. It was a good thing that your friends and two of Emma’s godmothers were keeping the room noisy as they helped you clean up. But at some point, Lea and Amy found a spot far across the room where they could interrogate you.

“Which one is it?” Lea asked immediately, like she hadn’t already asked the same thing three different ways in the past three hours.

Amy nudged her. “Were you listening? She didn’t check which one it was, remember?”

“What are they doing here anyway? Did you invite them?”

You huffed, glancing over your shoulder just long enough to catch the three of them talking. “No idea. They just showed up out of nowhere.”

“On Emma’s birthday? That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not a coincidence,” Lea muttered, shaking her head conspiratorially.

Unfortunately, she was right. It wasn’t a coincidence. When they showed up on your doorstep earlier, all three of them, the first question you’d asked had been: What are you doing here? And apparently, they had an answer.

Each of them had brought a letter from you. Letters you didn’t remember sending—because technically, you didn’t.

After a discreet interrogation with the staff, you found out how it happened. Last week, while clearing out the attic, you’d accidentally left a box on the counter marked “outgoing.” Inside were things you meant to throw away—old receipts, scribbled notes, and three unsent letters you’d written four years ago.

You remembered them now. You’d written those letters when Emma was in the hospital, and needed a blood transfusion, but her blood type was rare. You were scared. Desperate. You almost mailed them. But she got better before you had to.

Now here they were, delivered years late and right on time to ruin your peaceful little life. Still, that didn’t explain how they got here on the same day, at the exact same time. But when you asked, Doyoung had said:

“Oh, we actually missed the ferry, and Mr. Johnny here was nice enough to offer his yacht.”

You’d scoffed. “Still parading the seas with that yacht?”

“Yeah, no,” Johnny had replied smugly. “This one’s new. Got it just last year.”

Doyoung was the first to speak, stepping forward with a smile. “So... we were wondering,” he said, glancing briefly at Johnny and Jaehyun, “if there might be any rooms available here? Just for a few days while we’re on the island.”

You raised an eyebrow but kept your voice steady. “You’re not leaving yet?”

Johnny chuckled. “Why am I getting the feeling you don’t want us here?”

“Honestly?” you sighed. “Doesn’t matter much to me. But if you’re looking for a room, try somewhere else. I’m fully booked.”

Doyoung cleared his throat. “We’d pay, of course. No trouble.”

You shook your head firmly. “Sorry. You can pay me double, but the calendar will still be full until the end of the month.”

There was a pause as Doyoung glanced over at the other two. You saw Johnny shrug before saying, “The boat’s got plenty of rooms. You guys can crash there while I’m around.”

Doyoung nodded quickly, but Jaehyun hesitated, eyes flicking to you. Johnny turned back. “Guess that settles it. We’ll be on our way, then,” he said, offering a small wave.

“Yes. Please go,” you said briskly, waving your hand dismissively. Don’t come back, you wanted to add—but didn’t.

“It’s good to see you, sweetheart,” Johnny grinned, winking before sliding on his sunglasses and turning away.

You grimaced, rolled your eyes, and went back to your chore. You reached for a trash bag, but someone else grabbed it before you could. It was Jaehyun, and you could still feel the warmth of his presence behind you even after he’d moved away. Doyoung and Johnny had left, but he was still here.

“What are you doing?” you asked, though it was clear he was trying to help.

Of course, he was. You didn’t even have it in you to stop him when he started scraping paper plates into it, like this was just a normal evening in some alternate universe where he was your partner and this was his house, too.

“She’s very lovely,” Jaehyun said after a moment of nothing but silence between the two of you. “Emma, I mean.”

“She is,” you replied flatly despite the nervousness slowly creeping up your chest.

“She’s six?” he asked and you nodded. “Is her dad around?”

You exhaled sharply, dropping the broom. “It’s really none of your business, Jae. I’d rather we don’t talk like we’re old friends. Or act like we knew each other at all.”

Jaehyun sighed, saying your name softly, but you didn’t want to hear it. You walked out of the hall and found something else to do in the kitchen, hoping he’d be gone at some point without you having to interact with him anymore.

You kept yourself busy, moving from one task to the next—stacking empty cups, folding napkins, wiping down surfaces—anything to avoid looking Jaehyun’s way. Every now and then, you caught him quietly working alongside you, silently scraping plates or gathering trash, never saying much.

You thought he would leave if you ignored him long enough, but the hours ticked by, the party noise died down, and still, Jaehyun stayed. You resisted the urge to ask him directly to go, too wary of what might come if you did.

Finally, as the last of the balloons were deflating and the floor was almost spotless, he gathered the last trash bag and gave you a small nod. Without a word, he slipped out the door. Relief washed over you.

Later that night, you sat in the living room with Amy and Lea, nibbling on some ham and cheese from the kitchen. The house was quiet, the staff had left, and Emma was sleeping quietly upstairs. A TV show was playing in the background, but no one was really watching.

“So,” Amy said, passing you the plate, “All three of them are here. Shy Boy, Lover Boy, and Play Boy. What’s going on?”

Lea shook her head, eyes narrowed. “Even with the letter mix-up and fate or whatnot, I still don’t get why now, after all these years.”

You shrugged, chewing slowly. “I don’t know. The universe probably has it out for me.”

Amy leaned back, thoughtful. “You seemed tense around Lover Boy earlier. What’s his deal?”

You glanced at the ceiling, choosing your words carefully. “He’s…” You threw your hands up in the air, frustrated. “He’s Lover Boy.”

“Oh,” said Amy, nodding in realization. “Of course. Yeah, I get it.”

“What is it?” Lea asked cluelessly. “I don’t get it.”

“Jaehyun is Lover Boy,” Amy explained plainly, though it wasn’t enough for Lea. “He’s complicated because, you know, he’s the guy she fell in love with, but then he left her because he was engaged to some other girl.”

Lea gasped. “Oh my god! Yes! I forgot that we called him Lover Boy because she was gaga about him.”

“I was not,” you said coolly, lifting your glass to your lips to hide your lie.

“Were too,” Amy said in a sing-song, smirking. You huffed and slapped her thigh, earning a surprised yelp and a fit of giggles from both of them.

“Whatever. I’m not doing this with you guys,” you said, standing and brushing crumbs from your lap. “I’m going to bed.”

“Who else would you talk to if not us?” Lea called after you, laughter chasing you up the stairs.

You padded down the hallway, quiet now that the party was over and the girls were left to their wine and gossip. Your bedroom door was ajar, but you kept walking past it and down to the end of the hall where Emma’s room was.

You pushed the door open gently and peeked inside. She was fast asleep, curled into a soft lump beneath her blanket, one arm wrapped tightly around the new stuffed animal she’d gotten today. You stepped in and sat lightly on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair from her face. Her breathing was steady. Peaceful. The sight of her always had a way of quieting something wild inside you.

“Goodnight, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

You stood to leave, carefully pulling the blanket back over her shoulder, but just as you turned to go, a small voice cut through the quiet. “Mommy?”

You turned instantly. Emma had stirred, eyes half-lidded, voice thick with sleep. She reached out a hand, and you crossed the room again without hesitation, crawling gently onto the bed beside her. “I’m here, baby,” you whispered, wrapping an arm around her as she snuggled into your side.

She was quiet for a moment, her little fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. Then, softly, “Who were those men?”

You blinked. “What men?”

“At the party. I didn’t know them. The tall men.”

You hesitated, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. “Just tourists, sweetie. They were asking for some rooms.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “Are they mean?”

You frowned. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

“They made you sad,” she said simply, her voice already fading as sleep tried to reclaim her. “I saw you do the forehead thing.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat. That was the thing about Emma. Even when she didn’t fully understand something, she felt it. She had always been so in-tune with you, too sensitive for her own good sometimes.

“No, baby,” you whispered, kissing the crown of her head. “They’re not mean. Just a little complicated.”

Emma hummed, snuggling closer. “I don’t like that word.”

“Yeah, me neither.” She didn’t say anything else after that, and within moments, her breathing evened out again. You stayed where you were, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across her ceiling. You weren’t ready to explain who those men really were. You didn’t even have the full truth yourself yet. And quite frankly, you never really thought about introducing Emma to her dad one day. But then again, life has its own way of kicking you in the ass. With all three of them here, you knew you would eventually have to confront the truth and put a face on the dad you’d kept from Emma all these years. You just hoped she’d be ready when that day came. Or that you would.

The next day, you spotted them before they saw you—Doyoung with a juice in hand, Johnny chatting up the girl at the counter, and Jaehyun lingering by the window like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

Of all the cafés on the island, of course, they came to your favorite one. Amy followed your gaze and made a low, amused sound. “Would you look at that. Shy Boy, Lover Boy, and Play Boy, all in one place.”

“I told them to leave,” you muttered, flipping over the menu board even though you knew you were gonna order the same thing as usual.

Lea, who owned the cafe, leaned over the counter, eyes narrowing at the trio. “Shy Boy’s in flip-flops. I don’t think they’re leaving. Maybe they’re here for my famous croissant?”

“Sure,” Amy snorted. “Croissant. Closure. Co-parenting. Who’s to say?”

“I don’t care. They have to leave,” you huffed.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” Lea chuckled, turning to welcome another customer who’d just walked through the doors.

Johnny was the first to spot you, unsurprisingly. He made a show of removing his sunglasses, flashing a smile so wide you wondered how it didn’t split his face open.

“Good morning,” he called, walking over to where you were standing by the counter. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Can’t say the same with you.”

Johnny chuckled like the jab didn’t bother him. “Yeah, I missed you, too. Say, how would you like to join me today? I’m sightseeing.”

“Pass. Some of us have real jobs,” you deadpanned, eyes still fixed on the menu.

“You’re gonna bore a hole in that thing,” Johnny said after a few seconds of watching you stare at the piece of cardboard.

You exhaled sharply and placed the menu down. Behind him, you caught Doyoung’s gaze, and he gave a small sheepish wave. Jaehyun didn’t approach—just gave a slight nod from where he sat, eyes cautious.

“What do you want?” you asked Johnny, arms crossed.

Johnny lifted a brow. “Coffee? A warm smile? To not be treated like a disease?”

“You can have the coffee,” you replied, nodding to the barista. “Smile’s out of stock.”

Johnny grinned. “Where’s Emma?”

“School,” you replied briskly. “Not that it’s any of your business where my daughter is.”

“It’s not. I’m just trying to make conversation.” 

You didn’t say anything to that, just gave him a deadpan expression. Johnny raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to speak, and seemingly trying to gauge if the look meant anything, but when you didn’t, he took a deep breath and shrugged. 

“Well, this place has a nice vibe. We’ll order something and be on our way. No need to panic.”

“I’m not panicking,” you snapped. Which, unfortunately, sounded exactly like someone who was panicking.

They sat at a table in the corner, quietly eating. Doyoung tapped on his phone. Johnny flirted with the waitress. Jaehyun stared out the window. You pretended not to watch them, but your ears picked up every laugh and cough and scrape of a chair.

Amy leaned over again. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, poking at your food aggressively.

Lea leaned in as she pushed a small cup of espresso your way. “Be honest. Are you more mad that they came back, or that some part of you isn’t entirely mad?” You placed your fork down and didn’t answer.

“Oh my god. I can’t decide if I’m enjoying your despair or if I’m terrified of it,” said Amy, tutting as she shook her head at you,

“They’re just tourists,” you said through gritted teeth. “Let’s treat them as such.”

Just tourists, you told yourself. Just tourists my ass.

The sun was too bright for a Tuesday. You squinted up at it as you stepped out of a grocery store, two bags dangling from your arms, the baguette sticking out comically like something out of a cartoon. You walked down the winding road, exchanging smiles and pleasantries with a few people you knew.

Just as you were turning a corner, you spotted Doyoung in front of an old book shop, staring up at the sign with sunglasses far too big for his face. The owner, an old man with a permanent slouch, came out to greet him and usher him inside.

He hadn’t seen you yet. You considered ducking back inside and hiding in the alley between a patisserie and the bookshop, but fate was quicker. Doyoung turned at the perfect moment, smiling as soon as he recognized you.

“Hey,” he called, jogging over before you could pretend to be invisible. “I could help with that,” he offered.

You adjusted the bags in your hands. “No. I’ve got it.”

“Yes, but I insist, please.” He reached for one anyway, and you didn’t stop him, mostly because you were too tired to argue.

You walked side by side in silence for a few seconds. The streets were still sleepy at this hour—too early for tourists, too late for locals.  

Doyoung cleared his throat, shifting the bag in his hands. “So, uh, this place is lovely. The pastry is amazing. I had something yesterday—some kind of tart with fig and honey? It was amazing. I mean, not that I know anything about pastries. Or figs. I’m more of a donut guy, really. But you know—when in Rome. Or, uh, Corsica.”

You glanced at him sideways. He wasn’t looking at you, just staring ahead. He went on. “Also, everyone keeps smiling here. Like, aggressively friendly. One would think you’re not in France at all. Last time I was in the country, I went to Paris, and if someone smiled at you like that, they either want to sell you something or they’re about to scam you.”

That made you laugh, unexpectedly. Doyoung heard it and looked over, clearly startled, then smiled sheepishly. You cleared your throat after a few seconds, still a little red in the face. “You haven’t changed at all, Doyoung.”

Doyoung shrugged like he disagreed. “I did change a little. But you certainly haven’t.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at you, lips twitching into a small smile. “You’re just as beautiful as the first time I met you.”

You smirked. “On second thought, maybe you have changed.” You pointed to his choice of clothing. “You look more put-together. You must be doing better now.”

Doyoung smiled, that soft, earnest one that you used to find so endearing. “I am, thank goodness. My job is less stressful now. I’m doing much, much better. You, though? How have you been?”

“I’m fine. I’m sure you can tell that much.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he replied, nodding. “And you’ve got a daughter. Emma, right? She seemed really bright. She reminds me of you.”

You frowned. “You don’t know her.”

“I know enough,” he said gently, then added quickly, “I mean—not in a weird way. Just, you know. I saw her for a few hours, and she seemed... like she knows exactly what she wants. Just like you always did.”

You didn’t respond to that. The road curved ahead, and you were quiet again, but it was less awkward this time, more familiar. Like an old coat, neither of you knew how to take off. You stopped walking as your house came into view. Doyoung did too. You turned to face him. “What are you doing here, Doyoung?”

Doyoung looked confused. “Helping you with your bags?”

“No, I mean here here. On this island,” you clarified, sighing. “Why did you come here?”

Doyoung blinked. “What do you mean?”

You shot him a look. “I know you came because you thought I asked you to, but we cleared that up, didn’t we? So why are you still here?”

“Vacation,” he offered quickly. “I’m here on vacation. Sometimes I like to do solo trips. You know? Pick a spot on the map and go there. I’m a spontaneous person.”

“No, you’re not.”

Doyoung chuckled. “No, I’m not.”

You didn’t say anything to that, just shook your head and looked over your shoulder at your house by the cliffs.  “I should get these home,” you said finally, nodding toward the bags.

Doyoung blinked like he’d forgotten he was still holding one. “Right! Of course. Sorry. I’ll, uh—I’ll leave you to it.”

You turned toward the path that led back to your house, but paused after Doyoung called out your name. “It’s really good to see you again,” he said. And you knew he meant it.

You nodded. “Thanks.” Then turned and kept walking.

You thought you’d feel calmer the second you stepped back inside your house. But the moment you opened the door, laughter—loud and familiar—echoed through the hall and made the veins in your temples throb. Johnny was sprawled across your sofa, drink in hand, laughing at something Amy had said.

“There she is!” Amy called brightly the moment she saw you.

“My sweetheart,” Johnny added, getting to his feet with arms outstretched like he expected a warm welcome.

You dodged the hug before he could reach you. “Ames, did you check the mail? Something came for you.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Already? Wait—what day is it?” She didn’t wait for an answer, scrambling off the couch and disappearing into the study, which you’d turned into your office.

Johnny followed you into the kitchen after Amy left, looking around the place. “Nice place you’ve got. Very you. Minimalist but cozy.”

“Glad you approve,” you deadpanned.

He grinned, tipping back the last of his drink before setting the glass on the countertop. “So... how have you been? You know, since our amazing little summer.”

“I’ve been fine.”

“Just fine?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “‘Fine’ fine, or ‘not fine’ fine?”

“‘None of your business’ fine.”

Johnny laughed, clearly entertained. “Okay, Ice Princess. What did I do? Why am I getting the cold treatment like we didn’t part in great terms on the best of circumstances all those years ago?”

The circumstances he was talking about were definitely not the best for you, but you didn’t wanna get into that with him. “I’m just trying to maintain a quiet life, Johnny. Having you here gives me anything but that.”

Johnny shrugged, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright, fine.”

He was quiet for a minute, watching you pile up the groceries in their respective containers and cabinets. “Village’s changed a lot, hasn’t it?” he said after a while, glancing around. “I mean, there’s a wine bar now. A wine bar. When did this place get so bougie?”

“Not too long ago. More and more tourists are finding this place.”

“Is that why you turned this into a BNB?”

You hummed. “The plan was a hotel, but that takes so much more work, so I’m putting that on hold for now.”

Johnny nodded slowly, then looked at you again, this time more carefully. “Your daughter Emma is adorable. I didn’t know you got married.”

You paused, hand hovering in the air as you were closing an overhead cabinet. “I didn’t.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh. Huh. I just assumed. You know... kid, house, the whole ‘maintaining a quiet life’ spiel. Is the father out of the picture?”

You huffed, unwilling to have this conversation with him for the most obvious reason. “It’s really none of your business, but if you must ask, no, he is not in the picture. I have a daughter and I’m not married. That’s it.”

He gave a slow, thoughtful nod, like he was tucking that information away for later. “Yeah, I doubt you would have enjoyed being married. You always did like being independent.”

You said nothing, just continued your chore and pretended he wasn’t there. But it was easier said than done.

“I missed talking to you,” he said with a lilt. “Even when you’re being mean.”

“You are bothering me while I’m working. I’m not being mean.”

“Oh, I know,” he chimed, tilting his head. “This is you being civilized. It’s kinda hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “I thought I told you to leave?”

“I’m the master of my own fate, sweetheart. I don’t let anyone tell me what to do,” he said smugly. “Besides, this place is magnificent. Can’t blame a man for staying and reliving the nostalgia.”

You didn’t bother replying. Just turned away and kept unpacking, hoping he’d take the hint. Johnny smirked, clearly enjoying pushing your buttons, but then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it, sighed, and shook his head. “Well, I should probably let you get back to your kingdom of quiet,” he said, stretching.

You didn’t bother to say goodbye, just kept sorting the groceries. Johnny grinned like he knew he’d won some invisible game and turned toward the door. “See you around.”

You heard the front door close behind him, and the sudden silence was almost deafening. The sound of footsteps signaled Amy’s return. “Johnny’s gone,” she said, placing a letter on the counter. “I guess I’m gone too. But more gone than he is.”

Your brows furrowed. “Whatever does that mean?”

Amy lifted the paper. “They’re summoning me back. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to say goodbye to my little break and go back to working my ass off for a new Chanel purse.”

You chuckled. “You’re your own boss, Amy.”

“Pep talk? Nice. I can always trust you to lift me up when I’m down.”

“No, I mean literally,” you clarified, laughing. “You literally own your company.”

Amy sighed and sank into a chair. “I know, right? Who knew being a boss could be so demanding, too?”

You smiled, placing the last jar of jam in the cabinet. “You always did say you wanted to build an empire.”

“I was picturing more champagne and yachts. Less spreadsheets and back-to-back Zoom calls.” She pouted. “But alas, I must answer the call of capitalism.”

You leaned against the counter, arms folded. “When are you leaving?”

“Couple more days. Figured I’d squeeze in a few more sunsets before I go back to breathing recycled air in my office.”

“That gives us time for at least one more girls’ night.”

Amy grinned. “You, me, Lea, a bottle of wine, and us talking about Emma’s drop dead gorgeous dads?”

“Possible dads.”

She raised her hands in surrender. “Right, possible dads. But seriously… you okay with me leaving?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll survive.”

Amy narrowed her eyes. “You always say that when you’re suppressing deep emotional turmoil.”

“Then you must be thrilled I’m so consistent.”

Amy smirked, then stood to stretch. “I wish I could move here too.”

You shook your head. “Yeah, like you’ll survive the quiet.”

She grimaced, standing up at once and heading for the stairs. You watched her climb upstairs with her heels click-clacking on the marble floor, smiling as she disappeared from view.

You were halfway up the ladder, squinting against the late afternoon sun as you twisted the new bulb into the patio fixture. The scent of oranges permeated the warm air, sweet and delightful, and cicadas buzzed in the distance.

“Hey—careful,” came a voice behind you, gentle but urgent. You turned slightly and found Jaehyun standing near the base of the ladder, brows furrowed. “You shouldn’t be up there,” he said. “What if you fall?”

You huffed a small laugh, focusing back on the bulb. “Then I’ll fall. And hopefully someone will find me before the birds do.”

He stepped closer, placing one hand on the side of the ladder without climbing. “Seriously. Get down. Let me do it.”

“It’s fine, I’m almost—” You gave the bulb a final twist and straightened. “Done.”

He exhaled through his nose like he didn’t quite believe you, but wasn’t going to argue. His hand stayed lightly on the ladder until you made it to the ground. You felt it—the worry in his eyes—before you even looked at him.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

He nodded, glancing up at the light fixture. “You always do these things by yourself?”

You shrugged. “Mostly. The handyman comes by when something major breaks.”

“Don’t you have someone who could help with this kind of thing?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “A partner, or… someone?”

You scoffed. “Why? Because women shouldn’t be doing things like these?”

“That’s not what I said,” he said quickly. “I just meant you should be more careful and leave these tasks to other people.”

“Did you come here to boss me around?” you smirked, walking toward the shed with your toolbox. “Old habits die hard, huh?”

“I’m not bossing you around. I never did that,” he replied, following behind you. “You just don’t like being told what to do.”

“You know me so well,” you scoffed, digging through the shed for shears. “Good for you.”

You turned to him and handed him the shears with a crooked smile. “Here. Since you think I shouldn't be doing everything myself, you can help with the oranges.”

He took the shears without protest, the metal glinting faintly in the late afternoon light. You started toward the nearest tree, brushing your fingers against the low-hanging branches as you walked. The fruit was ripe, some already beginning to speckle with sunspots.

Jaehyun trailed behind, quiet except for the occasional snip of the shears. You didn’t offer instructions—he knew what to do. You remembered that much.

For a while, the only sounds were the rustle of leaves, the snap of stems, and the distant hum of insects. You filled a basket between you in silence, neither of you in a hurry. 

“These trees are doing well,” he said eventually, pausing beside you to drop a few oranges into the bin. “I didn’t think they’d survive the dry season.”

You crouched down to pick one that had fallen between two roots. “They almost didn’t. I had to replant a few.” You dusted off the dirt and added it to the pile. “They’re tougher than they look.”

He glanced at you, and you knew it wasn’t about the oranges. But you didn’t acknowledge it. Jaehyun shifted his weight, rubbing his palm over his neck like he always did when he was thinking too hard. “It’s peaceful here.”

“It was,” you said dryly, then added, “Still is. Mostly.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but it faded quickly. He nodded and turned back to the tree, reaching for another cluster of oranges. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. But I figured, when I did… you’d look like this.”

You arched a brow. “Like what?”

He hesitated. “Like… settled. Happy.”

You didn’t respond right away, just adjusted the strap of the basket on your shoulder. “Yeah, life doesn’t just stop for anyone. It keeps going. But you know that already.”

Jaehyun didn’t say anything. Instead, he stepped forward, brushing past you to reach a particularly high branch. His arm stretched over your head, close enough for you to feel the warmth of him, but you didn’t move. He clipped the stem and handed the orange to you quietly.

You took it without meeting his eyes. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he murmured. You placed the orange in the basket, then stood there for a few moments, letting the quiet stretch between you. You didn’t want to open your mouth and speak the words you were dying to say. But you needed to know.

You exhaled softly. “Are you going to tell me what you’re really doing here?”

He looked at you, lips pressed thinly together like he didn’t want to speak. You met his gaze. “Why are you here, Jae? Why now?”

“No reason,” he said, though his voice was softer now. “I just wanted to see the island again. You know what it meant to me.”

You sighed. “I know, that’s why I’m asking you why. You came all the way out here, just to reminisce?”

He didn’t answer right away. You could see it—the hesitation behind his silence. Maybe he was debating what to say, or maybe he didn’t even know the answer himself.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually. “Still figuring that out,” he said quietly.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Then figure it out somewhere else. I want nothing to do with you.”

You placed the basket of oranges down and turned to walk away. But then you paused, sighing to yourself. “Jaehyun,” you said, glancing back. He straightened, eyes hopeful.

“Don’t do that thing where you pretend we’re fine.”

His face fell, just slightly. “Okay,” he said softly. “Then I’ll do the thing where I hope we will be.”

You didn’t say anything else. Just walked away, the sun edging down the horizon, and the memories of your past heartbreak pressing hard against your chest.

In a small, dimly lit pub in the heart of the village, Johnny, Doyoung, and Jaehyun had found a corner table near the back, enjoying the local cuisine and some drinks. It was by Johnny’s recommendation, seconded by Jaehyun, who agreed that this place had the best food.

“So you’re all here by coincidence?” the pub owner asked, appearing at their table with a towel slung over her shoulder. She was in her fifties, with sharp eyes and a playful lilt to her voice.

Jaehyun smiled faintly. “Guess so.”

“I remember you,” she said, pointing at him. “You were here six years ago, weren’t you? Your hair was shorter then. Stayed a few weeks. Always ordered the sardines and left a good tip.”

Jaehyun smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like me.”

She turned to Johnny. “I saw you here before, too, with the fancy yacht.” To Doyoung, she said, “You all know each other?”

Doyoung offered a polite smile. “We didn’t know each other until this week. We all thought she—uh, someone—had asked us to come.”

“Misunderstanding,” Jaehyun added flatly.

The woman let out a long, amused hmm. “Three strangers, all drawn back to the same place, for the same woman? That’s either bad luck or fate.”

Johnny chuckled. “Feels a bit like both.”

The pub owner grinned. “Well, I’ve known her since she moved here. Lovely girl. Strong as hell. We all helped her when she had little Emma—Lord, that was a night.” She laughed to herself, then added fondly, “She did good, you know. Raising her child like that.”

That was when she tilted her head. “So…” she said slowly, eyes darting between the three of them, “which one of you is the dad?”

Silence fell all of a suddden. Jaehyun blinked. Doyoung choked on his beer. Johnny just stared at her, lips parting but nothing coming out.

She laughed, waving a hand. “Oh, don’t all look so spooked. Just thought it was funny—all of you turning up like that. I figured one of you must’ve come back for your kid.”

Doyoung leaned forward. “Sorry—our kid? Are you saying one of us could be Emma’s dad?”

She blinked, then grinned. “So you don’t know?” She looked genuinely entertained now. “You did all sleep with her, yeah?”

The three of them exchanged stunned glances, which only made her laugh harder. “That’s the part I’m having trouble wrapping my head around. Young people really are something,” she said, already turning away. “Just don’t cause trouble for our girl while you’re here, alright?”

The three of them stepped out into the cooling evening air, the sea breeze curling through the narrow streets. They walked in silence at first, shoes scuffing against cobblestones, the buzz of the pub still echoing faintly behind them.

“She’s got your laugh, Johnny,” Doyoung said suddenly. Johnny and Jaehyun both turned to look at him. “I mean—” Doyoung shrugged, a little sheepish now. “Emma. The kid.”

Johnny lifted a brow. “You’ve barely spoken to her.”

“I know,” Doyoung said, hands jammed into his pockets. “But I heard her laugh.”

“You don’t think she’s yours?” Jaehyun asked Doyoung.

Doyoung shrugged. “I feel like she’s mine, but I also think she’s not. I mean, me and her mom only met briefly and you two seemed to have a longer history with her.”

Johnny didn’t answer. He was looking up now, watching the clouds across a lilac sky. “A daughter. My own daughter. How odd.”

Doyoung gave him a sidelong glance. “You think she might be yours?”

Johnny smirked faintly. “The timeline fits. And we did have a wild summer.”

Jaehyun scoffed. “None of that would have happened if I never left the island.”

Johnny stopped walking and watched Jaehyun carefully. “So it was you?”

Jaehyun stopped too, glancing over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

Johnny narrowed his eyes, wagging his index finger. “The guy who left her in that state of despair six years ago.”

Jaehyun didn’t speak, but the way his jaw clenched and looked away made Johnny snigger. “Knew it. Guess I owe you for that. If you hadn’t messed up, I wouldn’t have had my chance.”

They exchanged glances, Johnny with a smug smirk on his lips and Jaehyun with darkened eyes, neither of them saying anything. Just a step behind, Doyoung was watching cautiously. 

“Are you gonna punch each other in the face? Please don’t punch each other in the face,” he rambled. “I’m a pacifist, but physically pacifying two grown men fighting is not my best skill.”

Jaehyun glanced at him and smiled. “No. No one’s punching anyone.”

Johnny nodded in agreement, and Doyoung visibly relaxed. Ahead, near the edge of the orange orchard, he spotted a small figure darting between the trees—Emma, the child they had all heard so much about.

“Emma!” he exclaimed, pointing at the orchard.

They all followed his finger, watching as Emma ran barefoot over the grass with two other kids, her hair bouncing, eyes bright with mischief. They all noticed how she tilted her head just like you did when you were thinking hard, and caught themselves smiling at the resemblance.

Jaehyun exhaled slowly. “We need to talk to her mom.”

Doyoung scratched the back of his neck. “We should, but she clearly doesn’t want us here.”

Johnny nodded slowly, his gaze still on the orchard. “Makes sense now, doesn’t it? Why she was so cold. She’s been raising a kid this whole time and we show up out of nowhere?”

A long silence stretched between them, heavy with everything that needed not be spoken. 

“Hi there,” came a voice behind them. They all turned. Amy stood there, smiling mischievously.

“Amy!” Johnny exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “Didn’t see you there.”

Amy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Three grown men, spying on a little girl. I wonder what’s going on here?” she chimed, tilting her head playfully.

It didn’t take much to convince Amy. Just one sincere talk beneath the stars, and Amy’s usual knack for stepping into matters she absolutely shouldn’t. 

Okay, there was also a bribe of some sort from Johnny too.

By morning, she and the three men had come to some sort of unspoken agreement, though you’d never hear the details from her. She wouldn’t tell you yet, but Amy agreed to gave the men time to get to know Emma. Little windows of time, a few stolen moments. A chance to see Emma from a distance without disrupting her world. 

The girl remained blissfully unaware, chattering to her friends, running through trees, and sitting cross-legged on classroom floors while three very confused, very quiet men watched her and quietly lost their minds.

Johnny had his time with her first. He was sitting outside the café in the square, dark sunglasses over his eyes, arms crossed as if he wasn’t creepily surveilling a six-year-old. Emma sat three tables away with a coloring book open in front of her and a glass of peach juice beside it—served, oddly, in a champagne flute.

“She refuses to drink from plastic,” Amy muttered, sipping her espresso beside him. “Told me once it was ‘unsightly.’”

“She’s not wrong,” Johnny scoffed.

“She’s six.”

Johnny let out a faint snort. Emma was focused, brows pinched slightly, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth as she colored inside the lines. Not scribbles—clean, even strokes. Her sundress was bright. Her sandals were spotless. And when a tourist’s kid squealed nearby, Emma looked up with a flick of her lashes that Johnny knew all too well.

“She might be mine,” he murmured, eyes focused on the kid. “What a terrifying thought.”

“Terrifying that she’s yours?” Amy asked dryly.

Johnny nodded. “Yeah. I mean, can you imagine? Me? With a kid?”

Amy snorted. “You’d put her in designer overalls.”

Johnny puffed his chest proudly. “She deserves nothing less.”

Jaehyun saw her later that afternoon, under the fig tree by the orchard. Emma was crouched in the dirt, arranging pebbles into a messy circle around something she’d scratched into the soil with a stick. A butterfly landed nearby. She didn’t move—just watched it in silence, eyes wide with wonder.

A woman came over, offering some pastry to Emma who immediately stood up to look at the food. When she scrunched up her nose at it, Jaehyun smiled to himself, recognizing that stubborn streak.

Amy stood beside him, arms crossed loosely. “She’s very picky. She hates raisins,” she offered. “Picks them out of everything. Cookies. Bread. Throws them at birds, sometimes.”

Jaehyun blinked. “Birds?”

“It’s her favorite animal. Always the highlight of her drawings.”

“She likes to draw?”

“She does,” Amy replied, smiling.

He didn’t answer. Just kept his eyes on Emma as she adjusted one final stone, then stood back to admire her handiwork. A small, crooked flower drawn in dirt, circled with mismatched pebbles. She clapped once, proud of herself.

Jaehyun smiled faintly. “She’s my daughter,” he said, soft enough that even Amy might not have caught it. “I know it.”

Doyoung saw her at the school library. Emma was curled on a beanbag in the corner, a book nearly as big as her lap open across her knees. Occasionally, she’d whisper something to herself, then giggle like she’d cracked a private joke. Her glasses kept slipping down her nose, and every few minutes she’d push them up again with an absent-minded jab of her finger.

“She likes logic puzzles,” Amy whispered from the next shelf. “Reads ahead in class.”

Doyoung watched in fascination as Emma turned a page and promptly bonked herself in the forehead with the stiff cardboard. She made a dramatic little “oof” sound, then looked around—saw no one had noticed—and laughed at herself.

“She’s smart,” Doyoung murmured, smiling despite himself. “And clumsy.”

Amy looked at him knowingly. “Like someone you know?”

Emma had already gone back to reading, entirely absorbed, glasses slipping again. He watched her, chest tugging strangely.

“I feel like she’s mine,” he said finally. “I mean, she’s smart, clumsy. Her demeanor reminds me of myself.”

None of them spoke it aloud to each other. But in their separate corners of the island, in different lights and at different times, they all began to wonder the same thing.

What if she really was my child?

The first time you saw Emma hanging out with one of his potential fathers, you went batshit. You almost lashed out on Jaehyun—who was with her at the time, but Lea was able to stop you just in time before you could make a scene with your daughter present. Lea and Amy had to take the brunt of your anger.

Amy explained that all three of them had heard from someone that one of them could be Emma’s dad. It took some serious convincing—one which involved sitting your down while Lea and Amy held you on either arms to calm you down—before you eventually agreed that they deserved to at least get to know Emma.

That weekend, you watched Johnny and Emma spend time together. They were crouched side-by-side at the back of the bookstore. You sat at the café next door, pretending to read while watching them through the open window. You didn’t like this idea at all, but you wanted to give it a chance.

Emma, legs swinging from the edge of a stepstool, flipped through a picture book while Johnny knelt beside her, pointing at words and asking, “What do you think happens next?”

“She gets turned into a snail,” Emma replied seriously, like it was obvious.

Johnny chuckled. “Solid twist.”

You lingered to watch them longer than you meant to. When Emma eventually noticed you, she ran up to join you with Johnny in tow.  He just smiled at you and said, “We found the weirdest book. It’s kind of amazing.”

You only offered a clipped nod before turning to Emma as she showed you the pictures in the book. Doyoung’s turn came with the weekly beach clean-up. He somehow ended up carrying Emma in one arm and a leaking bucket of seashells and rocks in the other, grinning despite the mess.

“I’m starting a rock museum,” Emma explained when she spotted you. “Uncle Doyoung’s the janitor.”

Doyoung wiped his sandy hands on his jeans. “I asked to be head of security, but apparently I wasn’t intimidating enough.”

You didn’t stay long, just long enough to see him trip over a bucket and nearly fall into the tide. Emma cackled, and you couldn’t help the reluctant smile that pulled at your lips. She was having fun. That’s all that mattered.

And then there was the art fair too. You’d gone mostly for the free churros, but Emma got sucked into the craft tent, and of course Jaehyun was there—already drawing with a group of overly ambitious kids.

When Emma wandered over to him, she handed him a stick of chalk and said, “Can you draw a castle?”

So he did. A sweeping, moss-covered thing, all turrets and arches, delicately shaded like it was made to be hung in museums. Emma crouched beside him, adding a purple dragon with uneven wings. You stood across the square, your heart crawling up into your throat. And when they stepped back to admire their work—her tiny hand brushing his—you had to look away.

Through it all, you kept your distance. Smiled when Emma came home with funny stories. Listened when she said she hoped she’d see “the bookstore guy” or “the rock guy” or “the drawing guy” again. And quietly braced yourself for the moment it would all become real. Because deep down, you knew it couldn’t go on like this forever.

“Uncle Doyoung’s silly. I like him.”

Your heart twisted a little. “You do?”

“Uh-huh. And I like Uncle Johnny too. He said he’s got a big boat.”

You chuckled, running your hands gently through her hair. “Yeah, he does.”

“Your friends are not mean, Mom. They’re okay,” she added, beaming. “And did you know Uncle Jae is an architect?”

“I did.”

“He said architects draw houses and buildings. It’s cool.”

You smiled. “Do you wanna be an architect?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I want to be a marine biologist.”

“Oh?” you asked, propping yourself on your elbow. “What does a marine biologist do?”

She launched into a surprisingly detailed explanation about dolphins, seaweed, and how sharks weren’t actually evil. You listened, nodding along, trying not to think about how easy this all seemed for her. And how hard it still was for you.

The next morning, you told your friends about your conversation with Emma. It was late afternoon when the three of you gathered on the patio, just far enough from the orchard that your voices wouldn’t carry. You had lemonade in your glass, sunglasses on your head, and your jaw clenched just slightly as you watched Emma zip between the trees, her laugh echoing on the breeze.

Johnny, Doyoung, and Jaehyun trailed after her like oversized puppies. Doyoung was trying to toss fallen oranges into a basket while Emma called out scores like a basketball referee. Jaehyun was crouched beside her, gently brushing dirt off her knees with a folded napkin. And Johnny, of course, was doing the most Johnny thing imaginable—standing a few feet away, watching it all quietly, sipping from a water bottle like he was above the chaos but secretly just shy around Emma.

“It’s Lover Boy,” Amy said, plucking a grape off the plate in front of her.

Lea blinked. “You said your vote is on Playboy.”

“That was when I hadn’t met Emma in the flesh yet,” Amy popped the grape in her mouth. “Now that she’s grown, and I’ve met Lover Boy, I’m pretty sure it’s him. She’s got her hatred for raisins to back it up, too.”

Lea snorted. “Nah. It’s Shy Boy. Emma’s being a massive klutz can only be explained by genetics.”

“Oh, so that’s hereditary now?” Amy asked, chuckling.

“It could be, who knows?” said Lea, shrugging. “I will say, though. She’s got Playboy’s eyes.”

You didn’t say anything. Just sipped your lemonade, eyes tracking Emma as she darted behind a tree, making all three men spin around to look for her.

“She’s got pieces of all of them,” Lea said after a moment. “Honestly, I can’t tell. She’s... Emma. You know?”

Amy nodded. “She takes after her mother a lot. Anyone would have a hard time guessing which one is her dad.”

There was a pause while you all watched Doyoung lift Emma onto his shoulders so she could try to reach a branch. She shrieked with laughter when he spun in a slow circle and nearly tripped over his own feet. Jaehyun instinctively reached out to steady them both, and Johnny looked up from where he was sitting, brows furrowed in concern. The three men exchanged glances—then they all laughed.

“At least the three of them get along,” Lea commented. “Men are more civil than I thought.”

You hummed but said nothing, eyes lingering on Emma as she stuck out her tongue and made a silly face. She was glowing. She had no idea that her entire life might be shifting beneath her feet.

Amy nudged your elbow. “You okay?”

Before you could respond, you noticed Johnny approaching, and quiet fell over your small circle. He slowed when he reached the edge of the patio, giving a polite nod to the others before looking at you.

“Hi,” he said, hands in his pockets.

“Oh wow, would you look at the time,” Lea said suddenly, standing up. “I need to check on the muffins!”

“Right. Muffins in the oven. Burning. Very urgent,” Amy said, scrambling up after her.

Johnny smirked as he watched your friends scramble away on purpose. “I love your friends. They’re very tactful.”

You scoffed. “And very nosy too.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Johnny agreed, sitting on the chair Lea had just vacated. “So, Shy Boy, Lover Boy, and Playboy.” Your brows furrowed, but you didn’t say anything.

“Nice nicknames. Who came up with it?” he grinned, leaning back on the chair and crossing his legs. “Let me guess, Lea?”

You couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah. But where did you even hear that? Have you been eavesdropping this whole time?”

“No, but I’ve heard it a few times in passing. I mean, obviously I’m Playboy,” he said, pointing to himself. “Doyoung’s definitely Shy Boy. And that makes Jaehyun your Lover Boy.”

He turned to you, grinning mischievously. “He was the guy who broke your heart, right? I ought to thank him. That summer changed my life.”

You rolled your eyes. “Are you here to gossip, Playboy?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head and leaning in. “I’m here to ask why you never told me she might be mine.”

Your mind stopped functioning for a second, completely caught off guard by the question and the way he dropped it so casually. You opened your mouth to speak, but didn’t. You just took a deep breath and looked away.

Of course. This conversation was doomed to come.

You’d never seen her this happy. Emma had always been bright, quick to laugh, quick to love, but this was different. This was lit-from-within, cheeks-pink-from-running, never-stopping-to-breathe kind of joy. You’d opted to let the three of them check into the BNB so they could spend more time with her.

Emma tore through the orchard like it had been made for her. Hair in a frizzy ponytail, arms flapping like wings, cheeks flushed from the heat. And trailing behind her like loyal satellites were the three men she’d only just met.

Doyoung was her obvious favorite at first. He’d found an old chalkboard and some planks and convinced her they could build a lemonade stand, even though he had no real plan and kept hammering nails crookedly.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” she scolded, tapping the plank he’d just attached.

“I’m not!” Doyoung said, offended. “I saw someone do it this way and it worked out fine.”

Jaehyun, naturally, had to take over. Inside the house, you pulled the laundry off the line and folded it stiffly. You paused when you heard her laugh again—clear as glass—and glanced out the kitchen window.

Johnny was under the fig tree with her now, holding a clipboard and pencil. He was showing her how to draw a map of the orchard. She leaned close to study his handwriting, her forehead creasing a little in concentration. He watched her like he didn’t want to blink.

When you stepped out onto the porch with a basket of folded sheets, Jaehyun was crouched near the steps, gently wiping dirt from Emma’s scraped knee with a napkin. She sniffled but didn’t cry. He smiled at her, whispering something you couldn’t hear, and she nodded solemnly before getting up and dashing off to find the others.

Jaehyun stood slowly and noticed you. “You’ve got a few loose planks back there,” he said quietly, pointing to a spot behind the house. “I could fix them. It wouldn’t take long.”

You didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ve lived with them this long.”

“I know. But I’m here now.”

That made you look at him. His face hadn’t changed—still calm, still thoughtful—but there was meaning behind those words. Like an apology, or a promise, or both.

“I’m not gonna play house with you, Jaehyun.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he said calmly. “I just… want to help.”

“Well, don’t,” you replied, lips pressing into a thin line. He nodded once and stepped back.

That evening, the lemonade stand had collapsed, the map was unfinished, and Emma had declared herself “Queen of Orange Land.” She demanded a crown. Jaehyun made one out of wildflowers. Doyoung gave her a sticker badge. Johnny carried her on his shoulders as she waved at no one.

From the patio, you watched it all. Arms crossed, with an unreadable expression. You’d spent six years guarding your peace. Six years building a world that revolved around you and your daughter, just you two, always. And now these men had arrived, pulling at old threads. Disturbing your peace.

Doyoung approached you later, holding out a glass of lemonade like a peace offering. “Hi.”

You took the glass without looking at him. “Thanks.”

“She’s a lot like you,” Doyoung said. “Bold, smart, very pretty. She has big dreams, too. Like you.”

You didn’t say anything, just quietly sipped on your lemonade.

Doyoung continued. “Remember in Paris? You said you wanted to run your own hotel and—”

“I don’t remember,” you cut in.

His smile dropped for just a second. “Right. Well… Back then, I said I’m gonna stay in your hotel as a guest. And—”

“Stop it, Doyoung,” you replied without missing a beat. “There is a chance that you might be Emma’s dad, and if you were, you could be a dad to her if you want. But that’s between you and her. That relationship doesn’t extend to me.”

You rose to your feet and left before he could say anything. You heard him call out to you, but you didn’t look back.

Later that night, long after Emma had passed out in bed, you ran into Johnny in the hallway. He was barefoot, hair damp from a shower, heading toward the kitchen.

He noticed you first. “Still mad at me?”

You walked past him without stopping. “No.”

Johnny turned, surprised. “Really?”

“That would require emotion.”

He didn’t smile. “Got it.”

As you walked away, you remembered how he asked you a few days ago why you didn’t tell him about Emma. You remembered being unable to say anything in response. Johnny said it was fine and that he would wait until you were ready to tell him.

“But as you know, I’m a busy man and I’m not very patient,” he’d said at the time, basically giving you a deadline, and you didn’t appreciate that at all.

The sun had set. Emma had fallen asleep after a tantrum over popsicle colors—red was the only acceptable flavor, apparently—and for the first time all day, the house was quiet. You were in the kitchen twisting at a jam jar with far too much effort, when Doyoung walked in.

“Need help?” he asked, smiling.

You jumped a little. “I got it,” you said, grunting once before giving up. “Okay, no, I don’t. I think the lid’s glued shut.”

He took the jar, twisted once, and popped it open. You stared at him like he’d just performed a magic trick.

“I loosened it,” you said defensively.

He handed it back with a smile. “Yes, you did. Great job.” 

The compliment caught you off guard, and you looked down at the jar in your hands, like you had suddenly forgotten why you wanted jam in the first place. Doyoung noticed your expression.

“Sorry. It just came out,” he said after a second. “My fiancee says she doesn’t know if I mean them sometimes, or if I’m just complimenting her out of habit.”

You glanced at him. “Fiancée? You’re engaged?”

Doyoung nodded, almost bashfully. “Since December. She’s great. Very not-me, which is probably why it works.”

“Congratulations,” you said, feeling a genuine warmth in your heart.

He looked at you, serious now. “I didn’t come to bother you or anything. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

You flattened your lips together and shrugged.

“I was just really surprised to get that letter,” he added, chuckling softly. “And I came because it sounded urgent, and I wanted to help with whatever it was. You didn’t give me details, just that you wanted me to come as soon as I can.”

“I know,” you replied, shaking your head at yourself. “That was kind of the point. And I did need your help at the time, but things got better.”

“What did happen?” he asked, leaning on the counter. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

You sighed and looked at him, really looked at him. Doyoung had been a sweetheart when you first met. He was a clumsy, nervous wreck, but he was endearing. You had your best memories of Paris with him, but he probably had the worst memory of you leaving him with nothing but a note. 

He didn’t deserve the hostility he got from you the first time you saw him again after six long years.

“Emma was sick, really sick,” you confessed. “I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. And for the first time, I thought… maybe she needs her dad.”

You looked away. “But like I said, things got better. So I didn’t have to send those letters after all.”

Doyoung hummed, nodding as he took in the information. “I followed you here, you know. Six years ago.” He said after a few seconds. “But Corsica is a big island and I didn’t know where to look, so, I gave up and went back home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I wasn’t upset about it,” he chuckled, then paused to think. “Well, I was, a little bit. And it took a while to recover from the bruised ego I got that day.”

He glanced over. “Can I ask you something?” You nodded.

“Did you hate it? That night?” Doyoung let out a shaky laugh. “I just—I’ve thought about it a lot. About how I must’ve said the wrong thing or done something wrong. And I’ve always wondered if you left because of that.”

“No,” you said quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t hate it. I just…”

You took a breath, then admitted quietly, “You scared me. When you said you were in love with me.”

“Huh…” He nodded, seemingly coming to a realization. “I get it. Looking back now, it was kind of a stupid thing to say.”

You snorted. “Yeah. It was.”

“But that’s all in the past,” he declared, exhaling. “And I didn’t come here for a second shot at this, or anything. I just really thought you needed help, and our time might be short, but to me, you’re an old friend. I like helping old friends.”

You smiled at that, genuinely moved. Then he added, “And of course, after finding out about Emma, I had to stay. I needed to stay. The idea that I could be a father is just… I don’t know. Exciting and scary at the same time.”

You didn’t reply right away. Just watched him, this man who used to be a charming, blabbering mess, now standing in your kitchen talking about being a father. “I think you’ll be a good one,” you said at last.

Doyoung smiled, softer than before. “I hope so.”

“Not just with Emma,” you added, and you meant it. “You’ll be a wonderful dad to your kids, Doyoung.”

“Thank you,” he said, bashfully scratching the back of his neck. His ears had turned a little pink. “I’d love me a daughter. I’d spoil her rotten.”

You sighed. “If Emma turns out to be yours, please don’t spoil her too much. She’s already spoiled enough as it is. I can’t even.”

Doyoung snorted. “She’s not that bad.”

You gave him a look. “She threw a fit over popsicle colors. Colors, Doyoung.”

He laughed, loud and boyish. “Right. She did.”

You smiled despite yourself. Just for a second, it felt like old times again—comfortable, uncomplicated, and a little silly. But only for a second.

The night was still and quiet. Cool air clung to your skin as you stepped onto the porch, barefoot, holding a half-empty mug of tea. You’d part ways with Doyoung after a hearty chat, and Johnny was nowhere to be found ever since Emma fell asleep. So, you weren’t expecting to see anyone else.

But there he was, crouched at the edge of the yard, a flashlight balanced between his knees and a screwdriver in his hand, fussing over the fence.

You blinked. “I told you to leave it.”

Jaehyun looked up, startled. “Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

You took a slow sip. “Didn’t realize you packed a toolbox.”

He glanced down at the pitiful setup: a multitool, a roll of twine, and what looked suspiciously like a spoon. “Improvising.”

You scoffed under your breath and stepped down from the porch, walking over to the shed nearby. “The toolbox is here.”

He followed you quietly to the shed. You flicked on the light, crouched, and pulled out the battered red toolbox from under a shelf.

“Here,” you said, setting it down at his feet.

“Thanks,” he murmured, kneeling beside it. 

He opened the lid, hesitant, like it felt wrong to accept even this small gesture from you. You turned on your heel to leave, but he spoke before you could take a step.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “But I wouldn’t mind the company.”

You considered him for a second, then walked out without a word. He took that as a no. Ten minutes later, you were back with your mug refilled, your sleeves pushed up, and a blanket tossed over one shoulder.

“Is it that hard? Or are you just slow?” you asked flatly.

He didn’t smile, but you saw his lips twitch. “Just trying not to wake everyone.”

You set your mug down on the steps and sat, knees pulled up. You didn’t know why you came back. Maybe it was the quiet, or the way his voice had sounded—not desperate, just inviting.  And familiar.

You watched him work. He was careful with his hands, looping the twine where a nail was missing, reinforcing the base with wood from a broken crate you’d nearly thrown out. He moved quietly, methodically, and with expertise like the handyman that you remembered him to be.

“You still like fixing things that don’t concern you?” you asked before you could stop it.

He glanced at you, surprised. “Only the ones I have a shot at fixing.”

You didn’t reply. But the words stayed with you, nestled somewhere in your chest like a jab you were sure he didn’t mean to throw. “You always did think everything is a fixer-upper,” you mumbled bitterly, looking away and taking a sip.

The night stretched on. A few crickets chirped in the distance. Jaehyun finished tying off the last bit of twine, wiped his hands on his jeans, then came to sit beside you on the steps. Not too close.

“How have you been?” he asked, voice low. “All these years.”

You took a sip of your tea. “Fine.”

He didn’t press. That was how he always was—patient, never pushing. And maybe that was part of the problem. Back then, he’d waited too long to be honest. By the time he said something you needed to hear, it had already been too late.

Now here he was again, waiting. Sitting beside you like no time had passed. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Emma likes having you around.”

A small smile crossed his lips. “She’s incredible. Bright. Funny. Stubborn as hell. Bet she gets that from you.”

You scoffed, though you were unable to hide your smile.

“She also has a big heart,” he added, looking at you. “And big dreams, like you.”

You looked away. The stars were dull tonight, almost invisible.

“I didn’t think I’d be back here,” he said after a while. “But I’m glad I am.” You said nothing.

“I’ve missed this,” he added, quieter now. “Being around you.”

You looked at him then. At the soft way his features caught the porch light, at the steadiness in his gaze, even when he wasn’t meeting yours. At the man he’d become, or maybe always was, and you just hadn’t seen it through the pain of what didn’t work out.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Jaehyun,” you said quietly.

“I don’t want anything,” he replied. “I just want to be around… if you’ll let me.”

You didn’t respond. Not yes, not no. Just reached for your mug again, letting the warmth seep into your hands, into your chest. It was easier not to go there—not with him, not with anyone. Those memories were too bright and too warm. Too dangerous.

After a while, Jaehyun said, “Sometimes I wonder if I could’ve done anything different. Stayed a little longer. Said something sooner.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t look at him. “I don’t spend time wondering about the past,” you said before rising to your feet and walking away. 

But you did spend time wondering about the past. More often than you cared to admit.

After a restless night and too much thinking, the beach felt like the only place wide enough to hold all the noise in your head. So you walked there early the next morning. The tide was low, and the sand was damp beneath your feet. The breeze smelled like salt and oranges. It was early enough that the sun was still halfway behind the hills, casting a soft glow across the water. You stopped near the shore and closed your eyes for a moment, just breathing it in.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite girl on this island.”

You turned, unsurprised to find Johnny strolling your way—barefooted, linen shirt unbuttoned all the way down, hair a tousled mess like he’d just rolled out of bed and decided to head to the beach first.

“Okay. Second favorite,” he corrected himself. “Emma’s first. Obviously.”

You gave him a look. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“What could be better than running into you on this fine morning?” he asked back, joining you by the water.

You sighed through your nose and kept walking, letting the waves graze your ankles. Johnny fell into step beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I saw you sneak out this morning,” he said. “Fishy.”

“I wasn’t sneaking out. It’s my house, my home. I do whatever I want.”

“Okay, someone woke up grumpy,” he teased. “What happened? Lover’s quarrel with Shy Boy or Lover Boy?”

You turned to give him a deadpan expression. Johnny grinned. “What? It couldn’t be me. I’m perfect. I’d never quarrel with you.”

You snorted. “You’re many things, Johnny. Perfect is not one of them.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stretched lazily, arms overhead. “So what are we doing today?”

“We?” you echoed, arching a brow.

“Yes, we. Don’t be selfish. Count me in.”

You shook your head, walking faster, if only to end the conversation. “I came here to be alone.”

“And look how well that turned out,” he said easily, falling into step beside you. “Come on. You haven’t eaten, have you?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t. But your stomach wasn’t the one making noise—it was your mind. Still echoing with words left unsaid on the porch. Johnny was watching you like he already knew that.

“Why?” you asked finally.

“Because I’m starving,” he said, like it was obvious. “And I know this place just around the island. Best pastries I’ve ever had.”

You gave him a look. He gave one right back. “And you could use a distraction. Didn’t they say carbs cure everything? Especially for grumpy women?”

You scoffed under your breath. “No, thanks.”

You turned to continue walking, but a loud, unmistakable grumble made you stop. It was coming from your belly, making you place your hand instinctively over it. Behind you, Johnny chuckled in satisfaction. 

“See? You need to eat. Come on.” He grabbed your hand with a smile, and you let him drag you back to his boat just by the docks. You followed reluctantly, but not unhappily.

Guess this was better than returning to the house. To the quiet rooms and the questions you weren’t ready to ask yourself yet.

The boat was different from what you remembered from summers past, but the vibe was nearly identical—sleek, spotless, with that casual arrogance that seemed woven into the very leather of the seats. A floating extension of Johnny himself.

“What happened to the other one?” you asked as he helped you aboard.

“Sold it,” he replied casually. “It was getting boring, so I had to get a new one.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his unchanging attitude. “Of course you did.”

He laughed, unfazed, and nodded at the captain onboard. They exchanged a few quick words while you looked around, then the engine rumbled to life, and the boat pulled smoothly from the dock. You leaned against the railing, letting the breeze blow through your hair.

It was strange, how easy it was to fall into old rhythms with Johnny. Like no time had passed at all. But time had passed. Years of it. And not all of them kind.

The ride was short, maybe twenty minutes around the island, but smooth and indulgent—like most things in Johnny’s life. He talked the whole time, mostly nonsense, from complaining about the awful airline food he endured on the way here to ranking the best gelato spots in Corsica. He claimed to be an expert, though you were sure he was mixing up two different towns. You didn’t mind. It was welcome noise, and it kept your mind from drifting too far back into the night before.

They docked at a small port just off the main road, where a sleepy little restaurant with blue-striped umbrellas waited, already smelling of butter and espresso. You chose the table closest to the water. Johnny insisted on pulling your chair out with exaggerated courtesy. You rolled your eyes but sat anyway, draping your blanket loosely over your lap. A waitress brought out a basket of warm bread and two menus.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” Johnny said as the waitress approached, his tone casual but his eyes still on you.

You didn’t meet his gaze. “You don’t even know what I want.”

“I know you have good taste. I trust you.”

You glanced up at him then, just briefly. Johnny always said things like that. Like none of it ever cost him anything. “You picked this place,” you said, eyes back on the menu. “Shouldn’t you be the one with recommendations?”

He only shrugged, smiling. “Doesn’t matter. I trust you.”

You rolled your eyes again, but the corners of your mouth twitched. After placing your orders, you took a moment to look around. The restaurant had brick walls and wooden beams overhead, mismatched chairs and wobbly tables, potted plants hanging on the eaves. It had that classic Corsican charm—weathered, warm, and beautiful.

You bit back a smile and looked out at the sea. “This place is nice.”

“It’s better with company,” Johnny said, leaning back with his arms stretched along the seat, completely at ease.

You shot him a look. “Well, obviously you’re always surrounded by company.”

“Not your company,” he said smoothly.

You gave a noncommittal hum, breaking off a piece of bread. “Flirting before breakfast. Bold of you.”

“Flirting? Who’s flirting?” he asked, mock offended. “I’m just appreciating the view.”

You gave him a flat stare. Johnny grinned. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re easy on the eyes. You should apologize for that.”

You snorted. “You haven’t changed at all.”

He reached for a slice of bread, tearing into it like it was a croissant at a Paris café. “Sure, I have. I’ve matured. I drink my espresso black now. I read the news.”

You raised an eyebrow. He grinned wider. “Okay, I skim headlines. But still. Personal growth.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself, and that only made his grin widen. “There it is,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get a laugh out of you for days.”

You looked at him then, caught off guard by the simple truth of that statement.

“How have you been?” he asked when you didn’t say anything.

You hesitated, but only for a second. “I’ve been okay. Busy. Tired. But okay.”

Johnny nodded. “Motherhood looks good on you.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your shoulders loosen just a little. Maybe it was the sun. Or the coffee. Or Johnny’s ridiculousness.

“What about you?” you asked, cutting into your food. “Still cruising through life with no plans?”

Johnny hummed thoughtfully. “More or less. No wife. No kids. No fixed address. You know me. I like the freedom. Wake up wherever I want. Say yes to whatever I want. No five-year plan. No mortgage.”

You raised a brow. “Living the dream, huh?”

“Something like that.” He gave you a slow smile. “Though… I might be willing to settle down. For the right person. You know, someone who cooks. Someone like you.”

You gave him a look, unimpressed but amused. “I don’t cook.”

“Ah,” he said, feigning disappointment. “There goes my dream.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you took a bite.

“I’m serious, though,” he said, grinning. “Don’t you feel lucky? You could be the one to tame me.”

“I think I’d rather wrestle a crocodile.”

Johnny laughed, tossing a sugar packet at you. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

You shook your head, biting into a still-warm pastry and letting the silence settle for a moment. His words echoed faintly in your mind—the right person—but you didn’t give them space to take root. Not now.

The sun had climbed higher now, and the light on the water shimmered like glass. You exhaled quietly, letting yourself enjoy the moment. Just for now.

The breakfast with Johnny had ended the way most things with him did—on a laugh, with one too many compliments. He walked you back to the docks like a gentleman, offered you his jacket when the wind picked up, and only let go of your hand once he helped you down from the boat.

“You sure you don’t want to grab lunch too?” he asked, hopeful.

“It’s nine in the morning.”

“Exactly. Gives us plenty of time to work up an appetite.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “If you know what I mean.”

You scoffed. “Keep your dick in your pants. Don’t just go around brandishing it to every girl you meet.”

Johnny grinned like he was being tickled. “So territorial. Exactly how I like my women.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. “Bye, Johnny.”

Back at the house, you barely had time to slip your shoes off before you heard someone knocking out back. You peeked through the window. Jaehyun, holding a sack of soil in one hand and a small potted herb in the other.

You stepped out, and he gave you a small, wordless smile before heading toward the garden bed like it was the most normal thing in the world. When you asked what he was doing, he only said, “The basil was dying. Figured you’d want fresh ones.”

You didn’t say thank you. But you brought him a glass of water anyway.

That became the pattern. Johnny would show up late mornings or just after lunch, always with something in hand—coffee, pastries, once even a new pair of designer sunglasses he claimed were on sale from the mainland. He flirted shamelessly, but never crossed the line.

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who looks good rolling her eyes at me,” he said once, after catching you doing exactly that. “Dangerous, really.”

You swatted him with a dish towel. He looked like he might thank you for it.

Jaehyun, in contrast, never announced his visits. He just showed up. Fixing the busted shutter. Watering the trees before you could. Replacing the broken porch light without saying a word. He never tried to be noticed, which just made it harder not to notice him.

When Emma asked Johnny to help with a school art project, he brought glitter. So much glitter. The three of you spent half the afternoon scraping it off the floor. When Emma asked Jaehyun, he brought her to the orchard, showed her how to press flowers between books. Taught her the names of each one like they were old friends.

You found them that evening at the table, heads bent over an album they’d made from scratch. She called it ‘Island Things That Make Me Happy.’ The last page had a pressed bloom labeled Mom’s smile.

You didn’t ask who picked that one.

Johnny took you and Emma on short boat rides when the weather was good. Taught her how to steer while you sat beside them, bare feet up on the seat, pretending not to enjoy it too much.

Jaehyun walked with you both through the orchard when it was too hot to do anything else. Sometimes he said nothing for minutes at a time. And it wasn’t awkward. It was just peaceful and satisfying.

They were opposites in every way. Johnny loud and golden, like the blinding sun at noon. Jaehyun was quiet and constant, like the breeze you didn’t feel until it was gone.

And you? You kept your heart carefully tucked away and you were starting to feel it stir.

In laughter that slipped out before you could stop it. In the way your eyes found them without meaning to. In the little moments between breath and memory, when it felt almost comforting to imagine what might’ve been if things had gone differently.

“So... who’s winning the boyfriend Olympics?”

You nearly choked on your drink. Amy snorted. “Yeah, we’ve been keeping score.”

You gave them both a flat look from across the kitchen island. “That’s ridiculous.”

But even you had to admit, the past few days had taken a turn. Johnny had declared open season on flirtation, popping up everywhere you went—elbowing his way into your errands, offering dramatic compliments every time you so much as tied your hair up. Jaehyun, though he didn’t say much, would always show up when you needed someone, fixing things around the house and helping in any way he could without being asked.

Different approaches. Same intentions.

“She blushes more around Johnny,” Lea whispered behind her wineglass.

“No, no,” Amy countered, eyes narrowing through the open shutters. “Watch her when Jaehyun’s around. She goes all weird and soft.”

Doyoung, who had been half-listening while Emma played with his shoelaces under the table, finally spoke up. “Honestly? I’m just glad no one’s betting on me. That would be a very sad chart.”

Lea laughed. “Please, you’re clearly the fan favorite in the under-six category.”

Doyoung raised both hands in surrender. “What can I say? Emma has excellent taste.”

“Knock it off,” you told your friends as you sat on the chair next to Doyoung’s. “No one’s winning whatever competition you think is happening here.”

Amy nudged Doyoung’s arm with a mischievous grin. “Come on, Doyoung. If you had to choose—Team Playboy or Team Lover Boy?”

Doyoung blinked. “Why are you asking me? And wait, Playboy and Lover Boy? What’s my nickname?”

“Shy Boy, of course,” Lea replied, and that made Doyoung grimace.

“Come on, Shy Boy. Pick a side,” Amy said cheerfully. “You have to because you’re already here… And because you gave up too easily.”

Doyoung frowned. “I didn’t give up. I was never in the running. Didn’t even have the intention of joining.”

“Oh please,” Lea chimed in, eyes sparkling. “You had a head start. You were the first candidate. First night. First everything. And now look at you—sidelined, like a retired soccer player coaching kiddie league.”

Doyoung narrowed his eyes at her. “Wow. Okay. That was a little offensive.”

Amy cackled, clearly delighted. “Look at him. He’s sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” Doyoung muttered. Then he paused, glanced down at Emma, tangled around his foot, and sighed. “I’m just a maybe-dad, happily engaged, trying to eat a muffin in peace.”

Lea made a show of whispering in Amy’s ear. “He’s sulking,” she said loudly.

You laughed when Doyoung’s brows furrowed deeper. Then, trying to de-escalate the teasing, you told them to stop. “That’s enough, girls. It’s never gonna happen.”

All three of them looked at you. “They could have pieces of Emma. But none of them are getting another piece of me,” you declared, which was more of a reminder to yourself than to anyone else. You caught Doyoung’s gaze beside you. 

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him and pointed with your index finger.  “Not even you, Shy Boy.”

He groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on! I said I’m not—” he huffed, giving all three of you a flat look. “Whatever,” he muttered finally, biting into his pastry with another huff.

The girls burst into laughter again, and Doyoung muttered something through a mouthful of muffin. Outside, the sun climbed higher over the garden, where Johnny’s lounging by the fountain and Jaehyun kept quietly working in the dirt, unaware—or maybe perfectly aware—of the scoreboard inside.

The night was warm and glittering, the sky clear and wide above the orange orchard as lanterns swayed in the breeze. Lea had gone all out with the decorations, stringing up lights between trees, setting up a long table draped with linen and wildflowers. Music was playing from a speaker, and the air was rich with grilled food, wine, and overlapping conversations.

It was Amy’s last night on the island, and she was determined to make it count.

“Come on, one more round!” she shouted, raising her glass from where she stood atop a chair. “Here’s to endless summers and hoping wrinkles and fine lines don’t show on our faces until we’re eighty!”

Everyone laughed and drank to that—including you, seated between Doyoung and Lea with Emma fast asleep in Doyoung’s lap, a flower crown lopsided on her tiny head. Johnny was across the table, looking like he belonged in a magazine spread—tan, teeth flashing, wineglass in hand. Jaehyun stood near the grill, quietly flipping skewers, but he paused to honor Amy’s toast.

You and Doyoung brought Emma upstairs, making sure she was sound asleep before rejoining the party. The night blurred sweetly—giggles and half-shouted conversations, music thumping louder, Amy pulling you into a spin, Johnny joining with a twirl that nearly knocked over a candelabra.

Past midnight, your girls were lying on blankets under the stars, too drunk to form coherent sentences. Amy had pulled Doyoung onto the grass with them, drunkenly urging him to take a group photo.

You wandered away from the crowd, down the winding stone steps to the beach, where the music faded into background noise. The sea stretched before you, dark and quiet, and the breeze carried the faint smell of salt and sand.

“You’re sneaking off again,” came Johnny’s voice behind you.

You turned to see him leaning against the railing of the stone steps, wineglass still in hand but half-empty now. He looked softer in the moonlight. Less like a flirt and more real.

“And you’re stalking me,” you said, scoffing.

Johnny smirked, stepping closer. “Guilty. But only because every time I blink, you vanish. Starting to think you’re avoiding me on purpose.”

“I am.”

That made him laugh. “You’re very honest. Would it hurt to sugarcoat things a little for my heart’s sake?”

You chuckled, then turned your gaze back to the sea, arms folded loosely over your chest. The waves lapped at the sand gently. “Shouldn’t you be back up there? Being charming?”

“I should be, but there’s no point since you’re not there anymore,” he replied without missing a beat.

You let out a dry laugh. “You are such a flirt.”

He shrugged. “Don’t you already know that?”

“Yes, and it still surprises me every time,” you sighed, tutting. “I gotta get better at that.”

You glanced at him then, and he was already looking at you. The smile he gave you was gentler this time. “Think me sticking around would help you get lots of practice with that?”

“Probably,” you said half-heartedly, shrugging.

“No, but seriously,” he beamed, tilting his head as he looked at you. “Would you?”

You snorted. “You’re not seriously talking about staying, are you?”

Johnny shrugged, pushing one hand in his pocket as he finished the contents of his glass. You blinked, genuinely perplexed. “Whatever, Johnny,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Johnny fixed his gaze to the sea, considering. “Maybe I’m serious. Or maybe I’m just floating ideas. Who knows, I might finally be ready to be someone’s stable domestic guy. You know? Have kids. Grow tomatoes. Settle down.”

You laughed. “Settle down?”

He grinned. “I could even do the whole marriage proposal surprise thing. Maybe a grand church wedding on top of a hill, too.”

You looked at him, trying to read the expression behind the smile. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” He laughed lightly. “Okay, maybe I am. But it’s not a bad idea. I’d definitely give it a try for you.”

You stared at him, mouth parted slightly, not sure if you were supposed to laugh or run. He was joking. He had to be. It was Johnny, after all.

Johnny, who flirts like it’s his life’s calling—who didn’t do ‘serious’, who didn’t believe in marriage or love, let alone surprise proposals and weddings on hills. And even if he meant any of it, even a little, you didn’t want to believe it.

He took a step closer, but didn’t touch you. Just looked at you like he was waiting for something. You blinked, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

You didn’t answer. And then he moved slowly, reaching to place his hands on your shoulders. You knew what was coming. Could’ve stepped back. Should’ve.

But you didn’t. You stayed frozen in place, caught somewhere between disbelief and curiosity, until his mouth brushed softly against yours. It was fleeting, too quick, almost like it didn’t happen at all.

When you didn’t move or react, he came back for more.

The next kiss was nothing like the first. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer until your body was pressed against his. His mouth moved against yours like he’d been waiting to taste you all night.

You gasped into him, one hand flying up to grip his shoulder, the other threading into his hair. He groaned when your hips grazed him, walking you backwards until your spine hit the stone wall behind you.

Then his hands started moving. His fingers slid beneath your shirt, his palms hot against your bare skin as they roamed your back, your sides, your hips. You clung to him, legs slightly parting to let him press in closer, and he did—grinding into you with a slow roll of his hips that made your breath catch.

“Shit,” he muttered against your mouth. 

You felt drunk, even though you weren’t. Dizzy, lit up from the inside out. Johnny pulled away just enough to look at you and utter your name like a prayer. 

Then you were kissing him again, deeper this time, like you couldn’t help it. His hand cupped the back of your neck, tilting your face to kiss you harder and rougher. His other hand slipped down, gripping your thigh, dragging it up against his hip—and you let him, desperate for more of that friction, of that hard, raging bulge between his legs.

You were losing yourself. You wanted to lose yourself. And maybe you would’ve—if not for that voice in the back of your head. The one that reminded you of the promise you made to yourself.

You pulled back, gasping, lips swollen and fingers still tangled in his shirt. Johnny’s chest rose and fell against yours. 

“Hey,” he said breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I can’t… Johnny, I can’t do this.”

He blinked. The confusion hit first, then frustration. “Why not?”

“Because,” you whispered, stepping back, shoving your hands through your hair. “I said I wouldn’t. I can’t. I’m not supposed to—”

“To what?” he asked, voice low. “Feel something?”

Your heart raced in your chest. But you didn’t answer. You didn’t even look at him again. You needed air. You needed distance. You needed to get out of your own head.

You turned and ran barefoot across the sand and up the stairs, heartbeat roaring in your ears. You continued to run up the path until the music was faded and the lights from the party were nothing but soft specks in the distance.

You didn’t stop until your feet hit sand again. Until the beach opened up in front of you again. And you found someone already there—Jaehyun, standing by the shore, surprised at your sudden appearance.

Great, another storm, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he called out, brows furrowing with concern when he noticed your expression. He stepped closer. “Are you okay? Are you—are you crying?”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears. Not until his hand came up to gently brush one from your cheek. You slapped it away, then turned your back to him, dragging your sleeve across your face.

“What are you doing here, Jae?” you muttered.

“I… I was here first,” he said, voice cautious. He tried to close the distance again, but you took a step back. “What happened? What are you running from?”

You laughed bitterly, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking down at your bare feet. “God, don’t start with that.”

Jaehyun sighed, but didn’t say anything. He walked over to you, taking off his sandals and offering it at your feet. You stared at it for a moment, then at him.

“Please. Just take them,” he said softly. “It’s cold.”

You didn’t take the sandals. You didn’t move at all. Just stood there, arms still wrapped tightly around yourself, refusing to look at him. Jaehyun didn’t insist. He just left them at your feet and turned away, hands in his pockets, gaze flitting toward the cliffs.

Above you, perched on the hill, your house glowed faintly through the trees—lit up like a beacon against the dark cliffs. The old haunted mansion, now bright and lively, strung with fairy lights and memories.

“You remember that night?” he said quietly. “We sketched the plans for your hotel on the back of a pub’s order sheet. I can’t believe I’m seeing it all in real life. Well, part of it.” Your hands curled into fists at your sides.

“We were mapping out every room,” he continued, smiling faintly. “You said you wanted a courtyard with a fountain. But not a flashy one, just something simple and charming.”

“Stop,” you said.

He paused. “Stop what?”

“Stop talking,” you replied bitterly. “Don’t stand there talking about floor plans like we built that place together. Like you had anything to do with it. Don’t act like you get to be part of that story.” Your voice was cold, and you didn’t regret a single word.

“But I was part of that story,” he said gently.

“You were supposed to be,” you smirked, turning to face him. “You said you’d stay. You said you’d be here and that you’d build a life here with me. We made plans. And then you left.”

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to speak—but you weren’t done.

“And I know. I know I told you to leave, but that’s not the point. The point was that you never fought for me, Jaehyun. You never fought for us.”

Jaehyun uttered your name helplessly, reaching for you but you stepped back before he could. You took a deep breath, looking up at the sky in hopes that your tears wouldn’t fall. “You didn’t even try to fix it,” you continued, voice breaking. “You didn’t write. You didn’t call. You just vanished. And I waited—God, I waited so long, thinking maybe you’d at least try. But you didn’t.”

“I tried,” he said softly, you almost didn’t catch it.

You scoffed, mocking.“Well, apparently you didn’t try hard enough!”

“I came back!” he snapped. The sudden rise in his voice startled both of you. “I broke off the engagement and came right back!”

That stopped you. His outburst and his confession—it stopped your from talking, your mind suddenly slow at comprehending his words. You gawked as Jaehyun’s jaw clenched before he continued. “I came running back to you because I wanted to make things right. But when I got here, I was told you were off with someone else!”

You blinked at him, stunned. “What do you mean?”

He scoffed. “Oh, so that wasn’t true, then? You weren’t off having the time of your life with some guy?”

“It was true,” you said briskly. “It doesn’t matter. What do you mean you came back here?”

Jaehyun took a step back, hurt and regret were evident on his expression, and the moonlight glinted in his eyes, wet with tears he was holding back. He took a deep breath, ran his hands through his hair and looked out to the vast ocean.

He didn’t say anything for a few moments. Neither did you, still reeling in confusion and hurt at his revelation, your anger unraveling slowly and painfully. You had built this story in your head, over and over—the story where he just didn’t love you enough to fight. But now, all of a sudden, it cracked down the middle.

You had been wrong, and it hurt.

“I made a mistake,” he said after a while, looking down at his feet. “I was scared, and stupid, and I let my pride get in the way. But I never stopped thinking about you. Not once.”

You looked away. The tears were hot again, the ache crawling back up your throat.

“I never got to tell you,” he continued. “That I came back and that I love you. I thought I was too late. I just… I just went home.”

“I went home,” he repeated, laughing at himself. “My fiancee called me a fool and married me to prove it.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just kept quiet. You just stood there, tired, trembling, toes dug into the cold sand, staring at the man you once thought you’d never see again He took a step forward, close enough for you to feel the heat of his body. He raised a hand, hesitated, then tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, letting it sink in. Letting yourself feel it for a second. Then you stepped back. “You’re too late, Jaehyun,” you said. But even you didn’t believe it.

The sun was high and bright when the three men boarded Johnny’s yacht, one after another, as if summoned by some invisible alarm. Doyoung had mentioned that it was about time he had to fly back home for work, and they all knew they couldn’t keep avoiding the topic forever. Not when the answer might change all of their lives.

They sat around the polished table on the deck, a bottle of wine already open but no one had poured a glass yet. Doyoung spoke first. “Are we really doing this?”

Johnny leaned back in his seat, sunglasses perched on his head, his face unreadable for once. “It’s now or never, boys. It’s not like we can just stick around the island forever.”

“You’re right, we can’t,” Doyoung agreed, sighing. “I mean, this place is lovely, but like I said, I have to go back soon.”

Jaehyun didn’t say anything. He was standing by the railing, arms folded, eyes fixed on the stretch of sea. The silence hung for too long before Johnny pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and stood.

“Let’s go see her.”

The three of them walked up to the house together—quiet and a little awkward, like kids on their way to the principal’s office. You greeted them at the door, bleary-eyed and exhausted from the night before, but you didn’t turn them away. Emma was at school, and you weren’t sure if it was a blessing or a punishment that this talk had to happen without her around.

You led them to the sitting room. Nobody sat, but you did. Johnny cleared his throat. “We figured it was time to talk about everything.”

You gave a tired nod. “Okay. Talk.”

Doyoung stepped forward, looking as sheepish as ever. “First of all… sorry. We didn’t mean to corner you like this. We just thought it’d be easier if we were all here. Together.”

“Less yelling that way,” Johnny muttered.

Jaehyun ignored them both. “She looks like you,” he said quietly, eyes on you. You weren’t sure if he meant it as comfort or accusation.

“Yes, exactly,” Doyoung agreed. “And that makes it hard to guess which one of us is her dad, so… I think it’s time we figure that out.”

Johnny chimed in casually. “She laughs like my sister’s kid. They could pass as siblings, to be honest.”

Doyoung shook his head. “Have you seen her nose? That’s gotta be from me.”

Jaehyun raised a hand. “She has dimples.”

“Yeah,” Doyoung agreed, though his shrug said otherwise. “But her voice sounds exactly like my mom’s.”

Johnny scoffed. “Your mom sounds like a six-year-old child?”

Doyoung gave him a flat look. “What about her eyes, then? Don’t they look like mine?”

“No, they don’t. But she has posh tastes,” Johnny replied, smirking. “Pretty sure elegance and class are hereditary traits.”

“More like extravagance,” Jaehyun muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Johnny questioned, glancing at Jaehyun with a scowl.

“Guys, enough,” you chided, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Are you here to argue resemblances or what?”

Johnny shrugged. “We should just check. Get DNA samples and find out once and for all. Although, I would be totally fine with assuming fatherhood if you guys wanna back out.”

“No one’s backing out,” Jaehyun snapped. “This is a serious discussion. You can’t make jokes like that.”

Johnny turned to him, smirking in amusement. “Okay, Lover Boy. Relax.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Doyoung chimed in, raising a hand. “I, myself, would love to find out if she’s my daughter, but… hear me out. I know it’s gonna sound crazy, but I don’t mind being half her father.”

There was a pause. You looked up at them. Doyoung shrugged, smiling. “Or one-third, for that matter. I mean, we’ve all met her. She’s wonderful. I’d rather have a third than nothing at all.”

Jaehyun sighed, placing his hands on his waist. “Sorry to break it to you, Mr. Kim, but that’s not how the world works. You can’t just claim to be one-third of a dad.”

“Why not?” Johnny said. “She’s already got all of us wrapped around her little finger. What difference does it make who passed on the stronger jawline? And finding out she’s not mine would honestly devastate me, so I’d rather not take my chances.”

Jaehyun was quiet for a long moment. Doyoung looked between the two of them, then back at you. “Two versus one? Guess majority wins?”

You scoffed and rose to your feet, exasperated. “Okay, you know what, guys? You need to shut up, all of you. And get out of my house.”

None of them moved, just stared at you in confusion. Johnny was the first to speak and say, “Don’t you think it’s time we find out which one of us is her dad?”

“No,” you replied smugly, tilting your chin up so you could meet their gazes. “You don’t get to come here and demand to be a father to my child. You may have helped create her, but you don’t get to walk in now and play the father card. It doesn’t work like that.”

Jaehyun called out your name softly but you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. “No. I’ve done well by myself and I didn’t need any of you. I went through everything without you. I’m not gonna need you now that she’s older and my life is better.”

“But you didn’t have to do it all alone,” said Doyoung, making you glance at him at once. He looked over at Johnny and Jaehyun, then back at you. “If you had told me… no, if you had told any of us, I think I speak for all of us when I say we would’ve been there for you. We wouldn’t have let you go through all of that alone.”

You stared at him—at all of them—and for a second, no one said anything. Not even you. Then you turned toward the door. “Get out,” you said. “All of you, get out.”

The house was unusually quiet for a weekend. No laughter echoing from the garden, no sound of someone tinkering in the backyard or somewhere around the house. It was just the soft ticking of the old wall clock and Emma’s tiny feet padding into the kitchen, where you were nursing a cold cup of tea you’d forgotten to drink.

She climbed onto the stool across from you, legs swinging, chin resting in her hands. “Where is everybody, Mommy?” she asked.

You smiled, reaching over to tuck her hair behind her ear. “They’re not here, honey. They must have chores and other things to do today.”

“But they weren’t here yesterday either,” Emma said, pouting as she lay her head on the table. “They said they were taking me out to sea today.”

“Who said that?” you asked softly, brushing her hair with your fingers.

She shrugged. “My dads.”

You blinked, hand pausing. “Your what?”

Emma lifted her head to look at you, eyes bright and serious. “My dads. Johnny, Doyoung, and Jaehyun.”

Your stomach turned. You hadn’t heard those names spoken so casually in the last forty-eight hours—not since you threw them out of your house. You set your cup down. 

“Emma, they’re not your dads,” you said carefully, patting her head. “They’re just friends.”

She tilted her head, confused. “But Auntie Amy and Auntie Lea said one of them is my dad.”

You froze. “They… said that?”

Emma nodded. “They were whispering but I still heard them. I have super ears, mommy. I hear everything.”

“Emma, what did Mommy say about eavesdropping on grown-up conversations?” you asked, trying to keep your tone steady.

She looked sheepish for a second, then brightened again. “But it’s true, right, Mommy?”

You sighed, moving around the counter to crouch in front of her stool. “Emma. Do you… want a dad?”

She shrugged again, legs still kicking back and forth under her seat. “I think so. Everybody has dads.”

You smiled softly, cupping her cheek. “Yes, sweetheart. But having no dad is not so bad. You have me, and Auntie Lea, and Auntie Amy and everyone else in the village who loves you.”

“I know,” she said quickly, then added, “but I still want one. Dads are fun.”

You sat back on your heels, forcing a smile for your daughter. “Are they now?”

She nodded enthusiastically, eyes sparkling. “They buy ice cream and ribbons. They show you all the cool stuff. And they can carry you…” She raised both arms way above her head. “This high!”

You couldn’t help the little laugh that slipped out. God, she was too much sometimes. “I can carry you that high.”

“No, mommy. You’re not tall,” she giggled as you scooped her into your arms.

You carried her out of the kitchen, but her voice dropped again, more thoughtful now. “Leo’s dad picks him up and spins him like this,” she said, arms stretched like an airplane. “It looks like flying. Uncle Johnny did that too. I liked it. It was fun.”

You felt your chest tighten. She wasn’t asking for much—just a little bit of wonder. And here you were, too busy shielding her from the past to even consider the possibility of what a father could mean to her now.

And to be honest with yourself, you weren’t sure if you were doing it for her anymore. Or was it for yourself all along?

“Can I have one?” she asked, small voice in your ear. “Just one?”

You looked at her—your bright, curious, heartbreakingly hopeful daughter—and felt your heart break in two. “Do you have a favorite?” you asked, sitting on the couch with her.

Emma thought hard, pressing her finger to her chin. “Not really. Uncle Doyoung is nice and buys me stuff. Uncle Johnny has a cool boat. And Uncle Jae is strong.”

She sighed, frustration painting her expression and you couldn’t help but laugh. She turned to you with a pout, “I like all of them. You have to pick one for me, Mommy.”

You paused, scrambling for an answer that didn’t exist. Before you could say anything, Lea appeared with a box from her café. “How would you feel about three dads?” she asked, setting the box of cookies on the coffee table and sitting on Emma’s other side.

Emma gasped excitedly. “I can have three dads?” she asked Lea, practically vibrating on the couch.

Lea looked at you with a knowing smile. “Of course. What’s better than one dad?”

She turned back to Emma and winked. “Three dads.”

Emma gasped again, absolutely buzzing in her seat. “Three dads! I want three dads!”

You smiled nervously. “Emma, slow down. You can’t just decide that on your own.”

“Why not?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

You glanced at Lea, then turned back to your daughter. “Because the dads—uh, the men—have to agree to it too. It’s a big responsibility. You can’t just call someone ‘Dad’ without asking first.”

Emma’s brows furrowed. “But they’ll say yes. They like me.”

Of course they do. It wouldn’t take much to convince those three men, but you had to help Emma manage her expectations. “They do like you,” you admitted, heart softening despite yourself. “But liking you and being ready to be your dad are different things. They don’t live here with us and even if they become your dad, you won’t exactly see them every day.”

Lea chimed in. “But they will come see you as much as they can.”

“That’s okay. I’ll ask them,” she said firmly, arms crossed with a serious pout. “I’ll ask all three.”

Lea let out a laugh. “Well, that should be fun to watch.”

You gave her a look, but there was no real hate in it.

The next morning, just as you were folding laundry in the living room, there was a knock on the door. You hesitated. Emma was still in her pajamas, sitting on the floor playing with seashells. Lea had left earlier to open the café. You weren’t expecting anyone.

You opened the door slowly. Doyoung was standing there with a bouquet of wildflowers. Johnny held a box of pastries from the bakery, and Jaehyun just had that awkward, earnest look on his face that you knew far too well.

“Hi,” Doyoung said, flashing that disarming smile. “We, uh, Lea said you wanted to see us?”

Johnny raised the box. “We brought breakfast. Peace offering. Don’t throw us out yet.”

You stepped aside wordlessly, letting them in. Emma looked up and immediately lit up like the sun. “My dads!”

You shot her a warning look, but the guys all froze. “Oh my, god,” you muttered, facepalming as you turned to hide your face.

“Did she just—?” Johnny asked voice breaking so he had to clear his throat.

Doyoung’s hand was on his mouth. “She said dads.”

“She did,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead and shaking your head, still unable to look at them.

Emma ran over and hugged Doyoung’s leg. “You came back!”

Jaehyun crouched down in front of her, eyes soft. “Did you miss us, munchkin?”

She nodded hard. “Mommy said I can have three dads, if you say yes.”

Johnny let out a quiet laugh and stepped forward. “Of course, we’ll say yes. You don’t even need to ask, princess.”

“Hold on,” you said quickly, gently tugging Emma away from them. You looked at the three of them—her dads. “First, let’s, uh… Let’s talk about this. Follow me.”

All three looked at you but followed you anyway when you went to the kitchen. Doyoung told Emma to stay and promised her it wouldn’t take long.

“Three dads?” Johnny asked as soon as you were out of earshot. He chuckled, like he couldn’t believe it. “She’s okay with three dads?”

You groaned. “Oh, you have no idea.”

You placed your hands on your hips, stomping your feet as you stared at the three men before you. “Okay. I care about Emma more than anything in this world. More than my own life.”

“Of course—”

You raised a finger at Jaehyun. “Let me talk.”

Jaehyun nodded, stepping back. Doyoung mimed zipping his lips. You took a deep breath before continuing. “You can check if you want to. I won’t stop you. Or you can do what you said—you can step up. Be her dads. All three of you. I don’t mind, as long as she’s happy.”

“But she’s going to need consistency. She doesn’t need three men floating in and out of her life when it suits them. If you’re serious, you don’t just show up when it’s fun. You show up even when it’s hard. Even when you don’t feel like it.”

Doyoung nodded. “We know that.”

“I’m not asking you to stay here forever,” you added, more gently this time. “You have lives. Jobs. People waiting for you—Doyoung, you’re getting married soon.”

“I’m not expecting you to drop everything and move to this island. That would be unfair. And Emma doesn’t need you to be here every day. She just needs to know you’ll be there when it matters. That she can count on you, even from afar. If you can do that, then,” you paused, raised your hands in surrender, and sighed. “Then be her dad—Dads! Whatever you want to call it.”

Jaehyun looked down, nodding slowly. “Yeah. We can do that.”

Johnny let out a breath. “Long-distance dad duty. Shouldn’t be so hard.”

Doyoung simply said, “We’ll make it work. Promise.”

You smiled, genuinely this time.  “Okay,” you said softly, nodding toward the door. “Go on. She’s waiting.”

The three of them turned to leave, and Johnny laughed out loud when he spotted Emma peeking from behind the curtains. “Oh no. We’ve got an eavesdropper!” he announced, grinning.

Emma shrieked, bolting from her hiding spot, her giggles echoing through the house as Johnny chased after her. You followed behind, just in time to see her leap into Doyoung’s arms, then reach for Jaehyun’s hand, then tug at Johnny’s sleeve, all while talking a mile a minute.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a strange fullness in your chest. You still didn’t know how any of this would work. But maybe it didn’t have to make sense. Maybe love was enough.

The sea stretched wide and sparkling under the Corsican sun, gentle waves lapping against the hull of Johnny’s yacht as it cut smoothly through the water. Emma was practically vibrating with excitement, darting from one end of the deck to the other, yelling about dolphins that no one else could see.

Doyoung and Jaehyun were lounging at the back, one lazily flipping through a comic book offered by one of Johnny’s crews, the other peeling oranges and throwing slices at Emma who cackled every time she caught one in her mouth. Johnny was at the helm, sunglasses on, wind tugging his hair as he grinned.

You sat near the bow, sunbathing on a sunbed with Lea and a half-empty drink in hand, watching your daughter live a little dream. She had three men completely wrapped around her finger and absolutely no idea how rare that was.

“Amy would’ve loved this,” said Lea, sunglasses perched on her nose. “What do you think she’s doing right now?”

“Drinking Dom on some wealthy investor’s superyacht?” you guessed, grinning.

Lea giggled. “Dressed in something skimpy that’s definitely fit for the yacht but wildly inappropriate for the business transaction she went there for.”

You both giggled, your mind drifting back to sunkissed days on the beach in places you couldn’t even pronounce. Trusting Amy to talk your way into expensive bars where all three of you could charm handsome tourists to buy you drinks. Sneaking into exclusive yacht parties and pretending you belonged there. It all seemed so far away now.

“Wow, we’re old,” Lea sighed. “When was the last time we had fun like we did in college?”

You thought about it. “Probably that summer before we found out I was pregnant with Emma.”

“Right. The summer after college,” she said, then glanced over at the helm where Johnny was. “We were in Johnny’s boat at the time.”

You nodded, remembering the days. “Yeah, we were.”

Johnny had his crew take the day off, so you and Lea had packed food for the trip. At lunch, Johnny grilled fish on the little onboard stove. Doyoung handled the drinks, Jaehyun cut fresh fruit, and Emma supervised them all like a tiny captain. The laughter never died \own. Even you found yourself relaxed, for once—letting your walls down just enough to smile without second-guessing it.

You’d lost count on how many times you had to reapply Emma’s sunscreen because she just kept jumping into the water with Jaehyun. Johnny had the yacht dock at a secluded shore, where Doyoung and Emma spent almost an hour looking for marine life in the shallows and taking pictures of them. The word ‘Dad’ had been echoing all day.

The sun began to dip by the time you made it back to the village. The sky had gone from blue to soft, velvety lilac, and the yacht anchored close to shore for the night. Emma had fallen asleep below deck, wrapped in one of Johnny’s warm blankets and snoring into a pillow. Jaehyun, Doyoung and Lea were still above, playing cards and arguing about the rules of some ridiculous game you’d never heard of.

Johnny brought you another drink and asked if you wanted to sit with him up front, where the sea was quiet and the stars had just begun to wink into view. You followed him. The two of you sat side by side on the padded bench near the front of the yacht, legs stretched out, drinks in hand. The breeze had softened, brushing against your skin like a whisper. Waves lapped gently against the hull. From the back of the boat, you could still hear muffled voices—Lea laughing, Jaehyun protesting something, Doyoung talking over it—but out here, it felt like you were in a different world.

Johnny took a slow sip of his drink, then leaned back, eyes scanning the dark horizon. “Today was nice,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “Yeah. Emma’s probably dreaming of dolphins right now.”

Johnny smiled at that. “She’s a great kid.”

“She is.”

You were both quiet for a moment, just gazing out into the sea and taking in the cool air. Johnny broke the silence first. “About the other night. Amy’s party.”

You turned your head slightly but didn’t say anything. You would rather not talk about it, really, but it wouldn’t be so bad to bring it up now. He shifted, resting his elbows on his knees. “I wasn’t drunk. I know I acted like it, but I wasn’t. I knew what I was doing.”

You hummed, acknowledging him without saying anything. Johnny continued, “And I knew what I was saying. I meant it.”

“Meant what, Johnny?”

He chuckled under his breath. Not the smug kind, the self-deprecating kind. “I meant it when I said I don’t mind settling down with you.”

Your brows furrowed. Johnny glanced at you, more honest than he’d ever been. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve spent years chasing things. Business, money, women, parties, noise. But it’s like I keep coming up empty. Then you wrote to me and it was like a hand was reaching out to me. I thought maybe if I came back, everything would fall into place. I thought maybe you could fix me.”

You stared at the ocean. “You wanted me to fix you?”

“I didn’t think of it that way at first,” he admitted. “But yeah. I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing at first. I told myself it was fate or just some unfinished business. But the truth was I just wanted someone to look at me and see something worth saving. And I thought it could be you.”

Another wave rolled beneath the yacht. You felt the dip and sway of it in your chest.

“I want to be someone better,” he said. “You make people better, you know? You make them want to do things right. I’m willing to change. I’d give up the boat, the business, the whole damn playboy act. I’d stay. If it meant a shot at a different life. A better one. With you.”

You turned to face him. “Johnny…”

He gave a small smile. “I know. It sounds desperate. And stupid. It probably is.”

You hesitated before speaking. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Johnny. But… I don’t think I can do that for you.”

You meant it. He came here chasing something, and you weren’t what he needed. Not in the way he thought. “I’m not what you’re looking for, John,” you said gently. “You don’t need a relationship to fix you. You need to find meaning on your own.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “I know. I mean, I didn’t, but I know now.” He chuckled. “It was a mistake coming here thinking you could fix me. Only I can fix myself.”

“But,” he added, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I don’t regret coming. I met the most wonderful girl in the world and became her dad. That’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Your breath caught. “Johnny…”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. I’m not asking for anything else. You were right to say no. But I still get to be there for her. And that means everything to me.”

You smiled, a little teary now. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he murmured.

Your chest tightened. He wasn’t talking about you anymore. And yet somehow… it felt like the most honest thing he’d ever said. “I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“I know,” he replied, his signature smirk appearing on his lips now. He relaxed in his seat, taking a deep breath. “Though I bet you would have wanted to be the one who gets to tie me down, don’t you?”

That made you laugh, genuinely, head lolling back and cackling type of laugh. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to even if I tried.”

Johnny shrugged, “Yeah, but you wish you could, don’t you?” he asked, winking.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide how it made you smile. “Fine. I would have considered it an honor to have tied down the menace of a playboy that you are, Johnny Suh.”

Johnny leaned back in his seat, that familiar smirk tugging at his mouth, but his eyes were calm now. You mirrored him, your laugh fading into a sigh as you leaned your arms on the railing again, the sea stretching endlessly beneath the moonlight. It was peaceful. Comfortable, even. Until Johnny’s gaze flicked upwards.

You didn’t notice at first. But then his smirk widened, and he clicked his tongue. “Lover Boy’s lurking,” he muttered.

You blinked, turned slightly—and there he was. Jaehyun. Leaning against the side rail up the deck, pretending to look out at the horizon but very clearly trying not to stare your way. One hand holding a glass he hadn’t touched in a while. The wind catching his hair and blowing it out of his face to reveal a slight crease on his forehead.

You looked away too quickly. Johnny laughed under his breath. “God, you’re so bad at this.”

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

Johnny raised a brow. “You don’t even realize you’re lying to yourself. That’s the problem.”

You exhaled. “Johnny—”

“Okay,” he said, groaning as he stood up. “But if you don’t do the follow your heart thing and say yes to him, you’re an idiot.”

You scoffed indignantly. “Since when were you an expert at following your heart?”

“Since I flew out here after getting a letter out of nowhere,” he replied, grinning smugly. “I followed my heart and it brought me to my little girl. Who, speaking of, probably needs cuddles.”

Johnny turned to leave and you called out to him. “What she needs is to be taken back home! In her own bed!”

Johnny raised a hand without glancing back. “On it!”

You stood there a moment longer, palms resting on the cool railing, heart beginning to beat somewhere in your throat. And then you tilted your head up. Jaehyun hadn’t moved. He looked right at you, and his gaze made you swallow something in your throat. You gave the smallest nod, and in the next second, he was gone—probably making his way down as fast as he could.

You hadn’t taken more than a few steps before Jaehyun appeared at the end of the corridor, breath shallow like he’d run down the stairs. His eyes locked with yours, and the hallway spun just a little from the adrenaline thrumming through your chest.

“Hi,” he said, voice low. “I just—I.. You called me over. I didn’t read that wrong, did I?”

You took another step forward, smiling. “No.”

Jaehyun smiled, relief washing over his face as he stepped closer. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you echoed.

“How are you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“No, I meant…” he paused, chuckling. “The other night, at Amy’s party. We didn’t get to finish talking.”

“Yeah, we didn’t,” you agreed, looking away.

“I meant what I said,” he declared, seemingly holding his breath. “Every word.”

You studied his face. It was written all over him—the years of regret, the ache of what was lost, the unbearable need to be here with you now. Then he reached for you. His fingers brushed your cheek, ever so gently like you would disintegrate right then and there if he held you too hard. 

“I love you,” he said softly.

That was all it took for your restraints to collapse. You grabbed him by the collar and kissed him—hard, desperately, like it was the only thing that could fill the void in your heart. Jaehyun kissed you back instantly, a low groan slipping from him as he cradled the back of your head, angling you just right like he’d done a hundred times in his dreams.

Your fingers curled in his shirt, tugging him closer until his hips pressed against yours and you could feel every inch of him. Jaehyun pulled back only long enough to breathe, his eyes locked with yours.

Then without a word, he kissed you once more. “Come with me,” he whispered against your lips.

He led you down the corridor with a hand at your back and urgency in his steps. He opened the nearest cabin door and pulled you inside, closing it behind you with a soft click. The room was dim, swaying gently with the motion of the yacht. But you barely noticed any of that. The second you locked eyes, you shoved him back against the cabin door and kissed him hard, fingers working fast on the buttons of his shirt. 

You pressed your palm against his bare chest and exhaled sharply. “I swear to God, if this is a dream—”

“It’s not,” he groaned, pulling your dress over your head in one motion. “It’s not, it’s not.”

You kissed him again, slower this time but deeper, your hands tangling in his hair. He held you firmly by the waist, then lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his hips as he walked you to the bed. You landed with a soft thud on the mattress, your bodies still tangled, his lips dragging down your jaw, to your neck. You gasped when he nipped at your skin, clawing at his back.

It was euphoric, the urgency and reverence—a passionate middle ground where every movement was fueled by something you’d long yearned for. His hands roamed your body like he couldn’t touch enough, couldn’t believe you were real and here and his again. All while you arched under him, pulling him closer, hands mapping the curves of his back, the dip of his waist, every familiar part of him you had tried to forget.

His mouth moved over your chest, your collarbones, your stomach. His hand found the space between your legs, cupping and pressing firmly before slipping into the thin fabric of your underwear. You held your breath—waiting for that familiar touch, anticipating.

But Jaehyun paused, looking into your eyes. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, though you could see the desperation in his expression—as if begging you not to.

“Don’t you dare.”

He smirked and dipped his head almost immediately, tugging your panties off before his lips met your cunt. You arched off the bed, biting your lip hard, your hand gripping the sheets while the other tangled in his hair.

He was slow, testing at first, teasing out every sound you could make. Then he went harder, sucked deeper, and both of your hands clutched his hair, hips bucking into his mouth as you chased more of that delightful sensation. He growled something against your skin and climbed back up to kiss you, mouths hot and hungry and impatient.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, grinning. “But I need you. Right now,” he said, kissing you before you could say anything.

You barely noticed anything, too lost in the heat of the moment and the feeling of his lips in yours. You felt him nudge at your entrance only for a second before he slid in with one smooth, desperate motion.

You gasped into his mouth, legs locking around him, and he cursed softly against your shoulder. It felt too much and not enough—all at once. 

“You feel—fuck,” he groaned into your ear, holding you tighter. “God, I missed you.”

“Jae,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “Jae, I missed you too.”

He moved deep and slow at first, soaking in every sound you made, every desperate plea whispered into his ear. But it didn’t take long for the rhythm to quicken, hips snapping into yours with a force that made the headboard thud lightly against the wall.

You closed your eyes and bit down on your lip to keep from crying out too loud—Johnny’s yacht might be big, but not that big—and  Jaehyun smiled at your expression. He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. “Open your eyes, baby,” he whispered, kissing your temple again. “Look at me.”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the years melted away. It was just him. Just you. And this. Jaehyun kissed you again and his lips tasted like longing, like something once lost and finally found again. He moved inside you slowly, deeply, dragging every second out like he wanted it carved into memory.

Your hips rose to meet his, greedy for more, and he groaned as he sank deeper. “Fuck,” he whispered, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. “You feel the same. No—better.”

He moved faster now, each thrust rocking through you in waves. The headboard tapped lightly against the wall, your hand flailing briefly before gripping the pillow to muffle your sounds. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he murmured, hand sliding up your thigh to pull your leg higher around his waist.

His mouth found your breast, tongue swirling over your nipple until you arched into him, crying out softly. He kissed down your sternum and back up to your mouth, whispering, “I never stopped missing you.”

You kissed him again, open-mouthed, desperate. His hand gripped your hip, guiding your rhythm until you matched him thrust for thrust. Every inch of your skin was on fire, every nerve in your body dancing with every drag and press and pull of his body.

When he angled his hips just right, you gasped, back arching, hands flying to his shoulders. “Right there,” you whimpered.

Jaehyun growled, deep in his chest. “Yeah? You gonna come for me, baby?”

You nodded, unable to speak, your body trembling beneath him. He watched you fall apart, eyes dark and locked on your face, his own breathing sharp and erratic. The climax rushed through you, long and loud and blinding. You buried your face in his neck, biting down on his shoulder to muffle your moan as he pushed deeper, losing himself to the heat and tightness of you.

With a few more hard, ragged thrusts, he followed, spilling into you with a grunt and a trembling curse of your name. His body froze, collapsing into you as you both chased your breath.

Silence. Just the sound of your breaths. Tangled limbs. Sweat and warmth and that aching fullness in your chest. Neither of you moved right away. And he held you, lips pressed to your shoulder, his thumb brushing along your jaw.

Softly, you said, “Say it again.”

Jaehyun hummed, lifting his head to look at you. “Say what again?”

You shifted under him, and he moved to lay beside you on the bed, propping his head on his hand. He watched you fondly, smiling. 

“What you told me earlier,” you replied, turning on your side too.

Jaehyun let out a relieved breath, reaching to cup your cheek. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. I love you then, and I love you now.”

“Wow.” You chuckled, heat rising to your cheeks, making you look away sheepishly. “That’s four times.”

“I love you,” he repeated, your name rolling beautifully on his tongue.

“Five,” you muttered, exhaling. “Okay. Enough. I get it.”

“It’s true,” he said, like he needed to convince you.

You took a deep breath and met his gaze again. This time, you were wearing a stern expression. “And if it is? Who’s to say you wouldn’t leave me again? You said you’re married, didn’t you?”

“No,” Jaehyun said quickly. “I mean—yes, I was. But—”

You gasped and sat up in complete shock. “I just slept with a married man,” you blurted, the fact suddenly dawning on you.

“No. That’s not—” Jaehyun chuckled, sitting up too and pulling you into a hug, then planting a soft kiss on your lips. “That’s not what happened.”

You shook your head and were about to say anything but he shushed you. “I was married, but only for a year. We’ve been divorced for five.”

“Oh,” you muttered, nodding and feeling a wash of relief. “Okay. Good. That’s… That’s very good.”

His hold tightened around you, and you hugged him back, melting into his warmth. You stayed like that for a while, just basking in the aftermath.

“So?” he prompted after a few moments of silence. “What now?”

“Now?” you paused, too shy to say it out loud. “Now you stay.”

Jaehyun lifted your chin so you’d meet his gaze. “I will.”

He smiled, genuinely this time, with more relief and confidence. “I will, love. See, you’re gonna need someone to boss you around this island.”

You scoffed, though your heart was full. “If my memory served me well, I think I made it clear to you that I don’t need a man bossing me around my own property.”

“Yeah, you made it very clear indeed, but,” he replied, pausing to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Wouldn’t you want to be dependent on someone from time to time? From what I can see, our dream hotel still needs a lot of work.”

Our dream hotel. The words echoed beautifully in your ears.

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him. “And you’re gonna lend me your expertise for free? No architect fee?”

“All I ask for is a room, my love,” he grinned, kissing the side of your head. “Preferably yours. I like sharing with you.”

You nudged his shoulder with a smile, cheeks flushed. “You’re asking for a lot, Mr. Jeong.”

“Oh, I’ll give a lot,” he murmured. “I’ll give you everything.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, and then quietly, you said, “Okay. I guess we can share a room.”

Jaehyun smiled, watching you with a slight crease on his forehead, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard it right. But you didn’t repeat yourself. You just laid your head on his chest and closed your eyes.

You didn’t make it back to the main deck. Instead, you stayed in that guest cabin, where the night continued with soft sighs, ragged breaths, and tangled limbs. You didn’t stop at once. Or twice. You lost track somewhere in between kisses and confessions, in the way he said your name like a prayer, in the way you held on to him like he was home.

And by the time sleep caught up to you, your body sore and your heart full, you were curled against his chest with the sound of the sea lulling you into the deepest peace you’d known in years.

The door creaked open, sunlight streaming in just enough to make you wince. You stepped out first, hair still damp from a rushed shower. Jaehyun followed, looking fresh but not fooling anyone—his hand brushing the small of your back as the two of you made your way up to the deck.

The first thing you heard was a gasp. A loud, ridiculous, over-the-top gasp from Lea, who sat dramatically sprawled on a lounge chair. Johnny nearly choked on his juice. Even Doyoung was trying not to laugh, hiding behind a magazine she wasn’t reading. Emma, bless her, was too busy coloring beside Doyoung to notice.

“Really, guys?” Johnny deadpanned. “In my boat? Right after breaking my heart too?”

You raised an eyebrow, brushing past him with a smirk. “Your suite is amazing, Johnny.”

Johnny gasped again, clutching his chest. “In my suite?!”

“Yes, where else?” you lied shamelessly, taking a seat and reaching for the coffee pot. “And your dimmers are cool.”

Jaehyun, behind you, was trying so hard not to laugh. Johnny looked personally victimized. “You absolute heathens,” he declared, hand flying to his mouth for added effect. “I’m gonna throw up.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t be dramatic.”

Everyone burst into laughter. Even Jaehyun.

And as you sipped your coffee, Jaehyun sitting close, your daughter now leaning against your arm with her sketchpad, and the rest of your chaotic, unexpected little family chatting around you, you could feel warmth blooming in your chest.

The summer was over. And something better had begun.

[fin]

[sinnabarmoth]

The God, The Dragon, & The Girl

Pairing: Rafayel x Fem|Reader x Sylus

Prompt: Sharing a heart with someone but sharing a soul with someone else can be a tricky business. Thankfully your god and your dragon are willing to share. (This is a polycule! Raf and Sylus love their girl but also love each other! Happy pride!)

Word Count: 2300

You were in a bit of a pickle.

Standing in front of your bed you had two dresses picked out but you could only wear one to dinner. One was in a pretty pink that had some nice flow and bounce to it when you walked, the other was in a deep crimson red that was more slinky and sexy and moved like rippling wine. They were such polar tastes to what your boyfriends preferred on you.

“Cutie,” Rafayel appeared in the doorway, “are you almost ready to--you’re not even dressed yet?”

“I can’t decide which dress to wear and I can’t do my makeup until I know what color I’m wearing.” you sighed. “Help.”

Rafayel came over and inspected the choices you laid out. “I like the pink one--”

“But the red would look even better on her.” Came Sylus’s voice from down the hall.

And here it went again.

“The pink is cuter!” Rafayel shouted back to Sylus.

“Red is hotter.” Sylus shouted back.

“I will fight you on this, lizard man!” Rafayel stomped out of the room.

“Come try your luck, fish boy.” Sylus said, humor in his voice.

“Useless, the both of them.” you sighed then went to the door. “No quickies you two! We have a reservation and I have been dreaming about going to this restaurant for weeks and we are not missing it!”

“Then get dressed, kitten.” Sylus’s head popped out from his room down the hall. “You’re the one that’s going to make us late.” He then grabbed Rafayel by the collar and yanked him into the room.

You rolled your eyes and went back to your closet, grabbing a pretty blue dress with black accents instead. You really needed to stop asking their opinion when you knew they were going to have such polar opposite thoughts on them.

It had been strange when your memories started returning. It had happened the first time at an art show with Rafayel, Sylus happened to be there looking for a new acquisition and ran into you. Trying to explain how you knew Sylus to Rafayel and vice versa had been a bit of a challenge but something happened when you had the two of them together. It was like something had unlocked in your brain and memories pulling you between two different pasts started unraveling in your mind. The Sea God’s bride and the dragon’s sorceress. Your heart with Rafayel, your soul with Sylus.

You had started hyperventilating and they ushered you away from the crowd and let you calm down before telling them what was going on in your head. They were quiet for a long time before it all came spilling out. Your story. Your lives that you had lived with both of them.

They were shocked and a little adversarial at first when they realized they were sitting next to someone who you had been in love with in a past life. But you were still reeling so had put it aside to comfort you until everything had made sense in your head. You remembered them both. You loved them both. Your heart and body strained to compete with the pull between them.

There was so much pain from the past. So much that you had lost with both of them only to be reunited now. You couldn’t fathom being apart from either of them ever again but you didn’t know if your god and your dragon would let you be with another, even if you were still with them.

They had been surprised too when they learned that you shared such a large part of yourself with another. The clear panic you showed when they started bickering about who had more of a right to you was enough to get them to stop. They never wanted to hurt you. You had finally returned to them after so long, they couldn’t in good conscience deny you the other half of your heart or your soul. So an arrangement had been made. You could have both of them and they would love you without interfering with the other.

The more time that passed of this arrangement though something even more unexpected started happening, that was the feelings that grew between Rafayel and Sylus themselves. It was a relief to you that not only were they getting along but that they were also interested in each other. It felt less like you were being shared between two men and more like you were all living harmoniously in mutual love and attraction between the three of you.

Rafayel and Sylus argued and bickered like an old married couple and nine times out of ten it ended with them pouncing on each other. Which was why you were now rushing to get ready so they didn’t get the chance to completely ruin their appearance sucking on each others faces, or worse.

You were clipping on your earrings as you moved down the hall. “Loves of my life, you had better be decent because I’m ready to leave now.”

“Coming!” Rafayel said, stumbling out of Sylus’s room with disheveled hair.

“Well, not anymore.” Sylus said, following behind him with his tie askew and a new hickey poking out from his collar.

“Unbelievable.” you rolled your eyes. You straightened Sylus’s tie and smoothed out Rafayel’s hair. “I said no quickies.”

“Sylus is making it sound worse than it was.” Rafayel assured you.

“Or maybe our kitten is just jealous she didn’t get to participate.” Sylus said, giving you a kiss.

“Still hate that pet name.” Rafayel grumbled. “She’s much cuter than those feline monsters.”

“Raf, my darling, it’s just a name.” you gave Rafayel’s a quick kiss. “Now come on, let’s get going.”

“I thought you were choosing between the pink and red dress.” Sylus said, appraising your new choice.

“Don’t worry about it.” You grabbed their hands and left the house and made your way over to the restaurant. When you got there you were shown to your table and you marveled at the spectacular view out the high windows that looked over the rest of Linkon.

You sat down to eat and took the time over your meal to catch up on what was going on in the lives of your boyfriends. Rafayel had an art show later that week and had been trying to get out of going to it but Thomas was being adamant and Rafayel knew when to cut his losses. Sylus was meeting up with some protocore sellers the same night as Rafayel’s show which left you to decide who to go with.

Rafayel would be bored out of his mind without you at the art show but things could get dicey with Sylus’s meeting and he could use backup if things came to blows. Why did they have to have plans on the same day? It made choosing so difficult.

“Go with Raf,” Sylus said after you had kept quiet trying to decide all through the entree course.

“But--”

“I’ll be fine on my own, promise.” he leaned in closer, bringing his voice to a whisper, “Besides, if you don’t go with him then he’s going to pout the entire next day and for our sanity we should avoid that.”

“Good point.” you agreed.

“What are you two whispering about?” Rafayel asked.

“Nothing, honey!” you beamed at him. “Just discussing plans for Saturday. Sylus might be able to come to the art show after he is done with his meeting.”

So, Saturday evening Sylus left for his meeting and you and Rafayel went out to the art show. It was pretty boring but joking around with Rafayel made it more tolerable. So did the hors devours and glasses of champagne floating around the room.

You were arm in arm with Rafayel, half-listening as he chatted with a patron when your stomach gave a large gurgle.

Eyes turned to you and you smiled awkwardly. “Excuse me, must have been those mini quiches.” you joked. You ate a lot of hors devours in your boredom this evening. It was probably just indigestion.

There was another loud gurgle and groan followed by a sharp stabbing pain in your stomach. Okay. Not indigestion. Much worse than indigestion. “Can you excuse me for one moment?” you extracted yourself from the group and went to the bathroom. You gripped the bathroom sink, taking in several slow long breaths as you tried to fight down the pain radiating from your stomach.

Then your world tilted as a wave of nausea crashed over you. You turned around and dashed into one of the stalls, hurling into the toilet. Damn it. Was it food poisoning?

“Cutie, you in there?” Rafayel’s voice called through the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine--” you cut off as you hurled again. “No. I lied. Having a bad time in here.”

“I’m coming in.” you heard the door open and felt his hand on your back. “Oh no, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“Yeah. I think I got food poisoning from the hors devours.” you muttered.

“We should get you home. Think you can move?”

You limply shook your head.

“Okay, be right back.” Rafayel dashed from the bathroom and came back a moment later with a glass of water and your coat. You washed out your mouth and spit it back into the toilet before letting Rafayel cover you with your coat and lift you up into his arms. “Let’s go home.”

When you got home Rafayel called Sylus to let him know you had left the show early cause you got sick. You tried to get him to stop since you didn’t want him worrying about you when he was trying to work but it was useless.

“Hey babe,” Rafayel said once he got a hold of Sylus, “No we had to leave early. Our darling girlfriend went ahead and ate something spoiled and now has food poisoning. She’s not doing too great right now. Yeah. Okay. See you when you get here, love you too.” he hung up.

“Sylus is on his way back, he said he loves you and that he’ll be home soon.”

“I told you not to bother him…” you muttered.

“And let him find out that you were sick and that we didn’t tell him immediately instead? No thanks, I’d rather not deal with his snappish behavior if we did that.”

By the time Sylus got home Rafayel had already helped you out of your clothes and changed you into something more comfortable. You were still curled around the toilet, face sweaty and burning as a fever started to set in.

“Oh sweetie,” Sylus said, sitting on the bathroom floor with you. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” you sent him a glare. “What kind of question is that?”

“She’s been crabby since we got home. Tread carefully.” Rafayel whispered to him.

“It was a dumb question. I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well.” Sylus said, rubbing your back and moving some hair away from your face.

“No, I’m sorry.” Rafayel sighed, “That caterer should have been screened better. Their hors devours were suitable at best but not great and they clearly didn’t care about food safety. They should never have been hired.”

“All that food…wasted…” you groaned, staring at the toilet like it personally offended you.

“You stay with her for a minute. I’m going to go out and get some medicine, I didn’t realize we were so low until we got home.” Rafayel said.

“Yeah, you go. I got her.” Sylus stayed next to you, speaking soothingly as your body writhed in pain.

“I know, sweetie. I know it hurts. Once your body flushes out the bacteria it’ll all be over.” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Can you just kill me instead?”

“Literally nothing in the universe could convince me to do that, my other half.”

“Ugh!” you groaned.

You rolled over and held out your arms. Sylus gave you a pitying smile and pulled you onto his lap, keeping you secure and comfortable in his arms. “You’re burning up, here.” he used his evol to grab a wet hand towel from the sink and pressed it to your burning forehead. You sighed in relief, melting more into Sylus, your eyes falling closed. “That’s it, rest. We’re going to take good care of you.”

When you woke up again you were in your bed, either boy was laid in bed next to you. Rafayel was fast asleep but Sylus was awake, his reading glasses on with a book in hand. Upon noticing you wake up he set the book aside. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great but better than I was earlier.” you took the towel off of your head. “Is it still night?”

“About five AM, I’ll probably be going to bed soon but I wanted to stay close in case you needed anything.”

“I said I had her.” Rafayel mumbled sleepily on your other side.

“Good morning to you too, dear.” Sylus smirked. “I’m nocturnal, it was only natural I stay by her side.”

“If it is still that early I’m going to go back to sleep.” you slumped back under the sheets. Rafayel immediately enveloped you in his arms.

“Glad you’re feeling better, my heart,” he yawned.

“Since she’s doing better I’ll let you two sleep. I’m going to go back to my bed.” Sylus moved to stand up but you grabbed his arm. “Need something, sweetie?”

“Stay.” you said, “Just until I fall back asleep. Please?”

“Of course.” he reclined back on the bed one hand playing gently with your hair. You were being pulled back under very quickly and just before you were lost to dreaming you felt a shift in the bed and the press of lips to your head. “Rest well, my dears.” Sylus whispered.

[wonyology]

Blueprints Of Us (m!reader x IVE's WONYOUNG) - part I

Summary: A heartbroken architect. An ambitious girl. They didn't know each other existed - until the day they met in Hong Kong. What began as a pleasant encounter slowly turns into something neither of them planned: a connection, and perhaps... a new beginning.

tags(?): fluff, post heartbreak stuff, wony being beautiful, i don't even know man

WONYOUNG x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~10k - big shoutout to @stewpidcheescatarinabluu for the hong kong suggestion, i tried something new this time so... hopefully u guys like it. also, i know nothing about architect. as always, enjoying reading!

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Incheon International Airport

It was 11:00PM, you sat quietly at Gate 21, the ice americano in your hand somehow tasted really bland now. Too bland. The terminal was quiet, not the peaceful quiet kind - just empty. A few other passengers sat scattered across the rows of seats, some half asleep, others just looked dead inside, just like you. You weren’t in a rush since your flight to Hong Kong wouldn’t board for another 40 minutes. Moments like these just sucked somehow. 

You scrolled through your phone again. Nothing to check, Just the usual emails from work, maybe too many unread group chats that you didn’t even bother to open in days, and that message - still sitting on top of your Kakao like it was waiting for you to accept the truth. 

[내지민이🩵]

(My Jiminie🩵)

im sorry oppa

let’s not keep dragging this out

you know we’ve been over for a while

You stared at it for a moment. No typing dots. No follow-up.

It was from your now ex-girlfriend, Jimin - Yu Jimin, your hoobae from SNU. You met on campus, she was in Interior Design and you were finishing up your architecture degree. She was popular - the looks, the bright energy, the bubbly personality, she had it all. People noticed her. A lot of guys chased after her. But somehow, she’d only looked at you. She was the one who confessed first - bold, smiling, a little nervous. You still remembered the way she’d asked if you always looked that serious, even when the sky looked nice. Somehow you’d ended up together. For almost 2 years. At one point, Jimin was even talking about moving in together. But… it hadn’t been good for a while. She said she’d been tired and you had no better excuse than ‘I’ve been busy’. You weren’t cheating. You weren’t lying. You loved her too much for that.

But last night - the look in Jimin’s eyes told you she was serious. You got down your knees in the middle of the street, apologizing and begging her for one last chance with tears in your eyes. You never thought you’d ever be that desperate, pleading guy in a drama. You never really begged for anything before. But last night, you begged for her. Jimin cried too, but she still walked away. No yelling, no accusations. She said it hurt too much to keep this relationship alive. She didn’t hate you but she couldn’t survive loving you like this anymore.

You cried too. Harder than you ever had. So much that you weren’t even sure if you could make it to Hong Kong today. But somehow you managed. 

Your studio, DPR, was young but quickly gained a reputation for its thoughtful and unique design. It was catching attention, even getting shortlisted for awards in the recent months. You’d joined it after graduating from SNU - one of their only rare junior hires as the team started expanding. The founder - your boss, Yu Barom, was only in his late 30s - maybe a bit young for his field but respected by many for his work. There was something easy about talking with him - not quite a mentor, more of a close friend. He noticed the shift in you for the past few months but he never pushed. When a partner in Hong Kong invited your studio to consult on a small renovation project, he offered it to you.

“Take the job, Haejoon-ah.” he said. “Explore Hong Kong a bit, maybe get lost for a few days. Might help.”

You knew it wasn’t about the project. Still, you were thankful for the chance - not just for work but also for his understanding behind it. You were still lost in that thought when the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. Well… enough sadness. It was time to get your shit together and board the plane.

Somewhere in the sky, you found yourself staring out the window, watching Korea disappear into clouds. Becoming an architect was never really something you planned - maybe not at first. But you were good with your hands, better with space than words and building things just felt like the one thing you could make sense of the world around you. You weren’t from money, nothing was ever handed to you easily. But you worked your way up, maybe got lucky along the way - through school, through military service, through sleepless nights at SNU until you ended up here. Thirty years old. Employed straight after university, luckily, in this economy. Respected. And still somehow feeling like something or maybe someone was missing in your life.

The next few days passed in a blur - full of site visits, meetings and late night drafts. The renovation project wasn’t anything massive - just a quiet redesign of a small hotel tucked along Sheung Wan. The work culture in Hong Kong was a bit fast paced but nothing you couldn’t keep up with. You spent your days listening, observing and sketching like you always did. Hong Kong was packed but beautiful, chaotic and sharp-edged in a way Seoul wasn’t.

A bit like that game, Sleeping Dogs. Minus the kungfu part. Underrated game.

Until that day, your early meeting had been canceled and you decided to wander around with no purpose, letting the city carry you away. At some point, you ended up at Tsim Sha Tsui harbor, the scenery looked exactly like those in the 90s Hong Kong movies. And there, tucked at the end of the Star Ferry Pier was a clean, minimalist cafe. You’d seen a bunch of those cafes before. Clean concrete, soft wood counters, art gallery vibes. A cup of coffee won’t hurt. But damn, Hong Kong was fucking expensive. You wandered near the window to calm yourself down while watching the world move. The bitterness hit a bit but you didn’t mind. Not there for the coffee anyway. 

Then she walked in. She took your breath the moment she got into your vision. She was wearing a matching cream and navy stripes crochet set. The cropped cardigan clung lightly to her shoulders, unbuttoned to show the black top underneath. Her high waisted shorts helped compliment her long legs, making her already tall frame even more attractive. Her long hair was braided over one shoulder, giving her look a retro but not too old fashioned vibe. A thin choker with a small pendant was wrapped around her neck, and those earrings just made her look so elegant and rich.  But the main point of her look was the glasses. She walked in while adjusting them - casual but confident, like she knew people were watching her. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. She ordered in English, voice soft but confident? Sounded a bit American? Tourist?

You didn’t really care at first, not until she ran into trouble while paying. Her card wasn’t going through. She shifted awkwardly and laughed it off with the barista then muttered something out of frustration. In Korean, loud enough for you to hear.

“아 뭐야, 또 외 이래…?”

(What the hell, again…?)

Korean!

Before you could think of anything else, you stood up and walked to the counter, phone already in hand.

“It’s ok. I’ll pay for her.” you said in English - more confident than you thought.

 She turned, blinking in surprise.

“Oh no! Please, you don’t have to…” in English again.

You shook head slightly and switched back to Korean.

“I’m Korean, too. It’s fine.” 

She hesitated for a second then offered a small bow with a tint of pink on her cheeks.

“Ah… thank you so much. Really.” voice now relieved. “I didn’t expect to run into a Korean here.”

“Me neither.” you offered a small smile.

She took her drink from the counter then just stood there clutching her cup of coffee with both hands for a moment. She wasn’t moving away. Her eyes flickered around the cafe then landed back on you.

Shit… she’s so beautiful.

You glanced at an empty table near the window.

“Do you… want to sit with me?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound too desperate.

“Ah-umm…” she was caught off guard for a second, eyes dropping to her drink then back to you. Then she let out a soft laugh.

“I mean… yeah. Sure.”

The both of you moved to sit down, she carefully placed her cup of coffee before adjusting her cardigan slightly. You noticed how she kept tucking those few strands of her behind her ear, like she was nervous of something. Neither of you said anything for a moment. 

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” she finally spoke first, the corners of her lips curling slightly.

“No, you’re doing fine.” you smiled.

She nodded, taking a sip of coffee before smiling again.

“...Can I ask for your name?” her voice was a bit more confident now. “Feels weird just saying ‘thank you’ to a stranger.”

You chuckled under your breath. 

“Yeah, it’s true. I’m Haejoon. Han Haejoon. And you?”

“I’m Jang Wonyoung.”

“Nice name. It suits you a lot.” you meant it.

There was a beat. Then she tilted her head, slightly blushing.

“Can I ask how old are you, Haejoon-ssi? Just… you know. So we know how to talk.”

You smiled.

“I’m thirty, in Korean age. International… twenty nine.”

“I’m twenty two, so… Oppa?” she replied immediately, her eyes were sparkling - like she was testing you, waiting for a reaction.

Fuck.

You coughed. Only once. Just enough to embarrass yourself. You then looked down at your coffee like it suddenly needed your attention.

“That’s fine. I mean, if you’re comfortable with that…”

You scratched the back of your neck.

“Or not. I don’t… mmm, whatever works best for you.”

She laughed - really laughed this time, covering her mouth with two hands. She was clearly enjoying how flustered you got.

“You’re really shy for someone who just rescued me with a cup of coffee, oppa.” she teased.

You raised one eyebrow, trying to recover.

“Yeah, well. Confidence is situational sometimes.”

Wonyoung took another sip of her drink, eyes quietly scanning you from head to toe then landing back on your eyes.

“You don’t look like a tourist, oppa.” she said, tilting her head. “Are you living here?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m here for work. A short project.”

She nodded slowly, fingers playing with her cup. 

“I thought so. You look like you just stepped out of a meeting or something.”

You glanced at yourself - slightly dark tailored suit, the shirt still stiff from rushing in the morning.

“Too obvious?” you asked, smirking.

“A little.” she grinned. “But in a good way. Sharp. Clean hairstyle. Professional. Korean vibe, definitely.”

“Thanks… I think.”

She covered her laugh with her hands again. Feminine. Effortless. Drawing you right in.

“Where do you live in Korea, oppa?” her tone still playful but curious.

“Uhm, Seoul.” you replied. “Mapo-gu side. Not too far from Yeonnam-dong.”

“No way. I live over there too. Right on the edge of Yeonnam, close to Mangwon market.” she gasped a bit.

“Really?” you blinked.

“Um, my friends and I are actually planning to open a floral studio somewhere around that area.”

You leaned back, surprised but kind of amused.

“That’s fairly close.”

“Fate?” she teased.

“Are you stalking me or something?” you narrowed your eyes, taking a risky shot.

Wonyoung gasped, clearly playing it for effect.

“Oh no… I’ve been caught. I guess I’ll have to find a new victim.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Nah, you don’t look like the criminal type.”

She sipped her drink with a small smile. “That’s how we criminals get you.”

You leaned forward a little, resting your forearms on the table.

“Floral Studio? Is that your full time job?”

She pouted her lips a bit before answering. 

“Kind of. Maybe not yet. I just finished school a few months ago. Took a break to travel around with my friends before… you know, real life hits.”

“Graduated from?”

“Ewha” she replied. “Fine Arts. I focused on stuff like fabric theory or styling but ended up falling in love with floral work along the way. I guess it also makes sense because I’ve liked it since I was a kid.”

“Floral work… Like not exactly a florist but arrangements and stuff?” you hummed. 

Wonyoung nodded, swirling her coffee around.

“Yup, like styling, visual work… Maybe it sounds a bit corny but I like how flowers can change the vibe of a place. I did a few stuff with bridal studios, concept shops, even a magazine shoot, once. I guess it just clicked along the way.”

You leaned back again, amazed.

“So not a shop that only sells flowers.”

She smiled.

“Definitely not that. I don’t just want to sell flowers. I want to create spaces and atmosphere that bring memories or scent to people. Does that even make sense?”

“Actually, yeah. It does.” you gave her a small nod, impressed.

There was a brief pause before she spoke up again. 

“I don’t know if it’ll work yet,” she said, looking down at her cup then back at you. “But we’re giving it a shot.”

“And ‘we’ is…?”

“My friends. Two of them. We’ve been dreaming about it for a long time now. I’m actually traveling around Hong Kong with them right now.”

“That’s brave. Really.”

Wonyoung smiled at your words, cheeks faintly pink - then she suddenly looked away and pressed her lips into her cup before speaking up again.

“Why did I just overshare like that?” she mumbled. “I don’t usually talk this much with people I just met.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. It was nice to hear.”

She glanced at you from under her lashes, a little flustered. Then, she straightened.

“Anyway. What about you, oppa? What’s your job? Besides saving girls with card problems and drinking coffee at expensive places.”

“I’m an architect.” you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head.

“Ah, called it.” her eyes lit up.

“You guessed?” you blinked.

“Nice tailored suit. Clean look. Sharp eyes. You’re either an architect or a rich guy who works in finance. Or IT.”

You raised a brow. “Are you always this observant?”

“Only when I’m bored.” she smiled again, this time relaxed.

Then she paused, eyes narrowing.

“Wait. If you think I’m that observant… guess my MBTI, oppa.”

You let out a quiet laugh.

“We’re moving on to MBTI already?”

“It’s fun, oppa. Every Korean has to do this. C’mon, one guess.” she said, leaning in.

You studied Wonyoung for a second. Confident posture. Confident speech. The way she caught herself oversharing but owned it anyway. Stylish. So goddamn beautiful, too.

“You gotta be an E…”

Her eyes sparkled a bit.

“EN… No, ES… ESTJ.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“How?

“Confident. Bright energy. I’d say organized but a bit dramatic. The good kind. I’d say stylish too but that doesn’t really count in MBTI.” you just smiled, taking a sip of your coffee like it was obvious.

I got a bit lucky too, Wonyoung-ah.

Wonyoung squinted at you.

“Okay, wait. That’s scary. I’m an actual ESTJ.”

“I’m good, right? Got it on the first try.”

“I’m suspicious now.” she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Do you just study MBTIs in your free time?”

“Nope. An architect’s instinct. I worked with many different types of people too.”

She smiled. “Alright, my turn. Let me guess yours.”

You leaned back, enjoying her presence.

Wonyoung’s lips slightly pursed in thought.

“You’re definitely not an E. Too calm. Quiet but not too awkward. You seem like you hate small talk but… listen well. Hmm..”

Here’s your chance. 

You saw your chance and went right for it. 

“Maybe I do hate small talk.” you said, your voice steady. 

“Just… not with you, apparently.” 

Smooth. 

Wonyoung’s eyes widened just a bit - not expecting that. She blinked then let out a lovely laugh, flustered but pulling her hands up to cover her face.

“...Wow, okay.”

“That was smooth, oppa. You don’t really seem like the flirty type.”

You shrugged, a faint smirk playing at the corner of your mouth.

“No, I’m not. Also, confidence is situational, remember?”

Wonyoung shook her head, laughing into her hands for a second before finally lowering them again. Her cheeks were a soft shade of pink, eyes still amused.

“I swear, if this is how you talk to every girl you meet…”

You raised both your hands in defense.

“I swear on my architect degree, from SNU - you’re the first.”

Wonyoung blinked.

“Wait. Seoul National University?”

You nodded.

“No way.” she stared at you for a second, genuinely taken aback.

“Why? Is that surprising?” you smiled, a little unsure.

“Yeah, that’s like the SNU. Our country’s top school so… you must be something yourself.”

You chuckled, shy now.

“Well… yeah. It wasn’t easy.”

She shook her head slowly, lips parting a little.

“That’s seriously impressive, oppa. I’m kind of… wow. No wonder you’re all quiet and mysterious.”

You laughed under your breath.

“Mysterious? That’s a first.”

“You’ve got that hidden backstory energy, oppa. Do you like, build buildings and stuff?” she asked, sipping her drink.

You smiled at her wording.

“Not exactly. I don’t physically go out with a hammer, if that’s what you’re picturing. I design them. Sometimes interior stuff too.”

Wonyoung laughed, covering her smile again with her hand - a habit you were finding endearing. But it was her eyes that got you. The way they shut lightly when she smiled or laughed, crinkling just a bit at the corner - genuine. Soft. Like the kind of laugh that showed she wasn’t pretending with you. You didn’t mean to stare, but you did. Just a bit longer than you should have.

“Do I have something on my face, oppa?”

“Nothing… Uh, your eyes look pretty when you laugh.”

She paused, her ears turning pink.

“...Well, that’s nice of you to say that.”

You were now aware of how warm your face felt too.

“I mean, it’s true.”

You leaned back slightly, gaze drifting toward the window before returning to Wonyoung. An awkward pause before you spoke.

“Anyway… yeah. I’m taking the architectural license exam this August. And then two other stages… at the end of the year. Then if things go well, I will finally be a licensed architect.”

“Hmm… that’s a big deal, isn’t it?” Wonyoung blinked, clearly impressed.

“It’s… a long time coming.”

“That’s amazing,” her voice sounded so genuine. “Like, really impressive. You must’ve worked so hard for this.”

You shrugged. Wonyoung’s words hit deeper than you expected. She then leaned forward, resting her chin in one hand with her eyes on you.

“I don’t know. There’s something really attractive about people who build things. Like it’s not just work… Care, thought, vision…”

You let her words settle in the space, trying to figure out what this beautiful girl is trying to do. Then she tilted her head slightly with her chin still resting in her palm.

“Wait… can I ask you something a bit random?”

“Sure.” you replied, curious.

“Did you do your military service already? Or are you one of those guys who contribute something big to the country and get exempt status?”

You laughed, it did catch you off guard a little.

“I’m not that lucky. I did mine right after high school.”

“Wow, so you got it out of the way early.” her eyes widened a bit. 

“So if someone dates you now, oppa… They don’t have to worry about you disappearing for two years?”

“That’s one way to… put it.” you said with a low laugh. “Guess I’m low risk that way.”

She nodded, like she was seriously considering it.

“Good to know.”

A short pause came again. Wonyoung glanced at you, down at her coffee, swirling around for a bit. Then she spoke with her eyes still on the cup - quieter this time.

“Umm… can I have your number, oppa?”

She peeked up at you, her tone casual but her cheeks a little pink. 

“Just in case I need to repay you for the coffee. Or, you know… if you feel like talking again.”

You smiled - couldn’t help it.

“Sure,” you said while pulling out your phone. “I’d love to meet you again.”

She took your phone gently, fingers moving quickly as she typed something in.

“Oh - do you want my Instagram too, oppa?” she asked, glancing up with a slight tilt of her head. “Just in case Kakao feels too formal.”

“Sure. Just head into the app and follow your account.” you chuckled.

She did exactly that, tapping around before handing it back to you. You looked at the contact name and had to bite a laugh back.

워녕이녕이🐰

(Wonyoungie🐰)

“A bunny?” you asked.

She looked smug, proud of herself. 

“People say I look like one.”

“Hmm, accurate.”

You barely had time to glance up when two other girls walked in - both stylish, maybe around Wonyoung’s age, laughing about something between them. One girl spotted her first.

“Wonyoung-ah!”

Wonyoung turned, eyes lighting up.

“Oh, unnie. Here!”

But then, the other girl’s gaze shifted to you - and paused. Recognition ran straight to your brain instantly.

“Haejoon-oppa?”

“Yena?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The four of you ended up at the same table, drinks in hands. Yena sat between you and Wonyoung, occasionally throwing glances your way, while Hyewon, her other friend, chimed in now and then with curiosity. 

Yena and you had always had a nice relationship - playful jabs, easy conversation and banter, which was easy when you did military service with her older brother years ago. She’d seen you through highs and lows. Wonyoung seemed both surprised and amused - not uncomfortable. If anything, she looked a little more relaxed now, sipping her coffee as conversations bounced around. Then, in a moment when the other two were distracted, Yena leaned in closer to you while lowering her voice.

“Oppa… are you cheating on Jimin in Hong Kong?”

You froze a bit, the question hitting harder than it should’ve. You absolutely forgot about Jimin when Wonyoung got here. Which was incredible - considering Jimin was on your mind 24/7 ever since you landed in Hong Kong.

“No.” you swallowed once. “We broke up like almost two weeks ago.”

Yena’s brow lifted. “Really?”

You nodded slowly.

“Just before I left for Hong Kong. She didn’t tell anyone yet, I guess.”

She leaned back slightly, eyes scanning your face, maybe she was trying to figure out if you were serious or you were considering cheating on Jimin with the girl sitting next to her. You met Yena’s gaze. You weren’t in the mood to defend yourself - especially when things already ended the way it did.

“Damn. I’m sorry.” her voice genuine, a mix of apology and shock.

“I mean… it hadn’t been good for a while.”

Yena didn’t press further. She just nodded the turned back toward the others, tone shifting back to light as if nothing just happened. Then, you felt Wonyoung glancing at you - her gaze was curious. She hadn’t heard the exchange. But something told you she noticed the shift in your face. And you weren’t sure if that made you uneasy or a little more drawn to her. 

How did I forget about Jimin so easily when you got here?

The conversation drifted back into easier topics - the weather, their trip, stuff in Hong Kong. You stayed mostly quiet, letting the girls talk, sipping your coffee while catching Wonyoung’s gaze looking at you now and then. Then, Yena suggested, casually.

“Oh, oppa. We’re going to eat somewhere at those skyline places tonight. Wanna come?”

Wonyoung looked at you. Her lips pressed like she was trying not to smile but the tiniest spark lit up in her eyes. She didn’t say anything right away, but the others knew.

You looked at Hyewon.

“Are you sure?”

She just smiled and shrugged, totally chill. 

“It’s fine, oppa. More people, more food.”

Yena raised an eyebrow at you, half a smirk on her face - clearly excited.

“Soooo?”

Your gaze turned to Wonyoung, who now was clearly staring right at you.

“Umm… yeah, I’m in.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You sat on your bed in the nice hotel room that Barom booked for you, studio money - crazy money by the way. You were still in your suit, tie slightly loosened now. A lot went through your mind after you left the cafe. For some reason, you didn’t want to be alone with your thoughts for too long. Like usual, you tapped into your contacts and hit call on your favorite person whenever you were in a situation like this

[다빈형] (Dabin-hyung)

He picked up on the third ring.

“Uh. You alive over there? In lovely Hong Kong?” 

“Barely.” you let out a breath, tired. “Also, hyung, are you on the toilet?”

“I’m efficient with my time, man.” he said, completely unbothered. “What’s up? You miss me or are you in trouble right now?”

You rubbed your face. “No, not really.” “Got time to walk around Hong Kong yet? You’ve been there for like one, two weeks?”

“Barely.”

“Site visits killed you already?”

“Nope, not that.” you lied back on the back, staring at the ceiling. 

“I met someone today.”

There was a short pause. Then a groan came from the other line.

“Damn… Don’t tell me you fell in love mid site visit like that. Is she from Hong Kong? Or is it a he? Wait… is it a he?”

“Hyung, shut up. It’s not like that. I just… I don’t know. I feel weird.”

“What kind of weird?”

You hesitated.

“Good weird, I think... Bad timing.”

“You thinking about her again?” Dabin hummed knowingly.

You didn’t even have to mention who her was.

“I forgot about Jimin today,” you said. “Just… like completely forgot. The second this girl walked in.”

“Is she from Hong Kong?”

“Uh… no, from Korea. Seoul. Lives near Yeonnam-dong too. Super weird.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m not kidding.”

“She’s traveling with her two friends. One of them is a close friend of mine, I enlisted with her brother at the same time.”

“That’s really weird.”

“Yeah, but this girl… She’s bubbly, cute, beautiful… said she’s about to open a floral studio with her friends. There’s something about her, flirty but just enough. She… uh.” you trailed off, suddenly self conscious. 

“She called me oppa like five minutes after meeting me. I swear, hyung, my brain just shut off right there.”

A snort came from the other line.

“Jesus Christ. You’re down bad.” he said, his American accent popping off.

“I’m not, hyung.”

“You are, Haejoon-ah. You forgot your ex for hours because the way a pretty stranger said oppa sounded so sweet. That’s not normal, at least for you.”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face.

“I’m just… confused, okay? I didn’t plan for this.”

“No one plans to fall in love in foreign land, Haejoon-ah. It just happens.”

You laughed, maybe at yourself.

“She’s different, hyung. She’s bold but sweet, confident but also shy. She actually listened when I talked about my architecture license exam - like, really listened.”

“Huh… that’s a first. You rant for hours about this and it always scares women off.”

“C’mon, man.”

A beat passed, then Dabin’s voice softened.

“Look, I get it. You’re in a weird place - post breakup, in Hong Kong, maybe tired from all the work. But it feels ok to feel something, even if you don’t know what it is yet. Just overthink it too much.”

You closed your eyes for a second.

“I’m having dinner with them tonight.”

“Already? I thought you’re shy and all.”

“No, not like that. Yena’s there. Our mutual friend. She invited me.”

“And you said yes.”

You hesitated. “Well… yeah.”

“Good.” he sounded satisfied. 

“At worst, free dinner and maybe a decent view. At best, you get a second chance at romance.”

You didn’t reply to him right away.

“Maybe I’m her type.” you added under your breath. 

“The way she talked to me… you know.”

Another snort.

“You’re so screwed.”

You stayed quiet for a second, and he didn’t let that slide.

“Seriously, though - this is why you can’t do casual, Haejoon-ah. You were built to be a hopeless romantic.”

“I’m not-” you groaned.

“You are, dumbass.” he cut in, in English, then the latter part back in Korean. 

“You look and act quiet all the time but deep down you want to be in love. You just won’t admit it.”

You turned around on the bed.

“She smiled so prettily, hyung.”

“Oh god.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know. That’s what makes this fun to watch.”

You smiled a little.

“Shut up and get out of the toilet, man.”

“Already did. I multitask really well.”

You shook your head. 

“Anyway, thanks hyung.”

“Anytime, man. Don’t overthink stuff. You always do that. Wear something good and enjoy the dinner. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I overthink a lot.”

“Yeah, go impress your floral girl. I’m out.”

And he hung up. You stayed there for a moment longer, staring at the ceiling again. Maybe you were really screwed. But you didn’t hate the feeling.

The steam still lingered faintly in the bathroom mirror when you stepped out of the shower. Were you nervous? Not too sure. You dried off and ran your hands through your hair and sprayed on a bit of cologne. Then you reached for the shirt - the striped Oxford you’d laid out before the shower. Clean lines, soft fabric. It slipped on easy, giving a casual but sharp vibe - yeah, you’d pulled this off before. You rolled the sleeves and went for the white trousers. Not quite clean fit but slightly wide legged, relaxed. Your shoes were black, polished, a little more formal but complimented the look well. Casual, comfortable, but presentable. Just the right line between effortless and intentional, you thought so.

You were reaching for your watch and glasses when your phone buzzed on the bed. It was Dabin.

[다빈형]

don’t chicken out man

just act like your normal self and you’ll be fine 

You stared at the screen, lips twitching. Typical. You slid on your watch, put on the glasses and gave yourself one last look in the mirror. You didn’t forget to grab the wallet before reaching for the door.

Let’s see where the night goes.

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped into what felt like another world. Hong Kong was really like those 90s movies, or even better. The restaurant wasn’t open air, it didn’t need to be with this kind of view. Glasses stretched from floor to ceiling, wrapping around the entire dining space, revealing the Hong Kong skyline in its night glory. The scenery below shimmered like jewels, skyscrapers glowing in all kinds of colors as the city exhaled into the night. On the far side, Victoria Peak…is it Victoria Peak?... cast a quiet silhouette against the fading sunset. Inside, the lighting was soft and warm - elegant and expansive. It was decorated with polished floors and golden accents. Everything didn’t feel loud - just intentional, to emphasize that quiet luxury vibe. A curved bar hugged one side of the room. Every detail, from the wine bottles gleaming to the jazz music felt like it was designed to make you stay longer and spend more. 

You scanned around the space - there they were. Near the window, seated at probably one of the best tables in the restaurant, Wonyoung along with Hyewon and Yena looked like they really belonged there. And next to Wonyoung, an empty seat was waiting for you. Here we go. You exhaled once, calming yourself before walking toward them.

Yena spotted you first as she lit up and raised one hand, half standing from her seat.

“Oppa! Over here.”

Hyewon turned and gave you a small, friendly wave. 

Wonyoung looked up at you briefly then dropped her gaze with a small smile. A bit shy, maybe. You reached for the table. She was wearing a tweed mini-dress, the kind of clothing that looked straight out of a Milan runway but still fit her like it was custom made. Those golden sequin trimming sat at the collar, cuffs, and hem - giving her look a playful yet youthful, elegant vibe.  It caught the warm restaurant lighting so well whenever she moved. Her hair was down, long  and softly curled over one shoulder. Her bangs emphasized her features so well, giving her an almost doll like vibe. But it wasn’t just about the look. The way she carried herself - composed, like she was completely at ease in this kind of place. 

This girl must come from royalty.

You found yourself smiling at Wonyoung before you even realized it.

“Sorry, I’m late.” you said, adjusting your watch out of habit. “Hong Kong traffic was insane.” 

Yena scoffed dramatically.

“We were about to order without you, oppa.”

“Yah, you were not.” Hyewon added with a laugh, nudging Yena lightly.

Wonyoung didn’t say anything, fingers fiddling with her wine glass before looking up at you again.

“At least you made it.” she smiled.

You scratch the back of your neck out of habit.

“Yeah… wouldn’t want to miss the view,”  you said, eyes flicking briefly to hers before quickly adding.

“I mean, the city - the skyline.”

Wonyoung looked like she was trying not to smile too much. You nodded towards the empty seat toward the empty seat beside her.

“This one mine?”

“Obviously, oppa.” Yena smirked. “Where else?”

You then carefully slid into the seat beside Wonyoung - close enough to catch the subtle perfume she wore, faint but lingering. Deadly. Her arm brushed lightly against yours as she shifted, and neither of you moved away too quickly. 

“Glad you could make it.” she whispered loud enough for the two of you to hear.

You turned your head, this time not able to look her in the eyes.

“Me too. You look stunning by the way.”

That made her pause for just a short beat. Then her smile appeared - a little shy, a little warm.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, oppa.” Wonyoung tilted her head. 

“That shirt looks really good on you.”

It was your turn to be shy, unsure whether to thank or deflect this time, but-

“So how’s Hong Kong treating you, oppa?” Yuna cut in, her eyes glinting as she leaned across the table with her face in her palm. “Working hard? Or just pretending to?”

You exhaled, wasn’t even sure if you were thankful or disappointed with this vibe shift.

“Umm… both, I guess. It’s not a big project but we’re packing in as much as we can.”

“What’s the project again?” Hyewon asked, curious.

“A small hotel in Sheung Wan. Mostly renovation. Nothing massive but enough to keep me up the past few nights.”

Wonyoung gave you a knowing glance.

“Sounds like you don’t get enough sleep.”

The corner of your mouth was tugging upward.

“Yeah, well… comes with the job, I guess. Can’t really complain.”

She hummed softly in response - like she understood more than she let on.

“Still… I hope you get at least one good night here. Would be a waste otherwise.”

You glanced at her, something light but still meaningful passed between the two of you.

“Sooo” Yena cut in, eyes sharp with curiosity. “What’s it like back in Korea? Your job, I mean. You said your studio’s in Seoul, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s on Mapo-gu side. I got snapped up right after I finished the five year program, it was hell - honestly.”

“Architecture major?” Hyewon asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, SNU. Lucky enough to land the job straight out. The team’s pretty tight - a younger studio but we’ve been gaining attention lately. That’s why I can’t sleep these days.”

“Ooh, smart and stable.” Yena said with a fake dramatic tone. “Sounds like someone’s type.”

Wonyoung muttered something under her breath, half laughing.

You ignored the burning feeling on your ears and continued. 

“The pay’s not insane, but good enough for me to afford a nice apartment, help my family and still have enough to save… or splurge once in a while. I’m taking the architect license exam this year so… hopefully better pay after that.”

“Help your family?” Hyewon repeated. “That’s really good of you.”

You nodded, now a little self conscious under the weight of their attention. 

“I mean… they did a lot for me. Wouldn’t be here without them.”

Wonyoung gently traced the rim of her wine glass. The way she looked at you had changed. Warmer. Respectful, maybe. Enough to kill you.

“And what do you splurge on, oppa?” Yena swooped back in with a grin. “Don’t say boring stuff like books or anything like that.”

You chuckled.

“I mean… I bought a nice car off from a friend a year ago. Sometimes… travel, hobbies if I have time. And, you know - those dinners where my friends drag me out and the wine list has names I can’t even pronounce but I pretend anyway.”

That earned a laugh from Hyewon.

Wonyoung tilted her head.

 “Ooh, red or white, oppa?”

You raised your eyebrows. 

“I mean, they taste the same to me. Anything is fine, depends on the company.”

Wonyoung blinked before looking away at the Hong Kong skyline with a breathy laugh, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear like she was trying to compose herself.

“Oh, wow.” Yena muttered. 

“You really are someone’s type.”

You looked down at your glass. You didn’t mean to put it like that. Whatever the case was, it lingered in the air between you and Wonyoung, even as Hyewon and Yena picked the conversation back up.

“Okay, we need food before I get drunk. Who’s hungry now?” Hyewon was already looking at the waiter.

You relaxed into your seat, feeling Wonyoung leaning closer to you. But neither of you pulled away.

By the time the food arrived, the atmosphere had settled into something warmer. Comfortable. It came with good drinks and beautiful Hong Kong city lights, with laughter spilling out between bites. You were swirling your wine glass absentmindedly, half listening to Yena and Hyewon debate over where to go after this. Then the conversation drifted again.

“So how was that spot you and Yena-unnie went to see? The one near the bookstore?” Hyewon turned to Wonyoung as she asked. Wonyoung’s face lit up instantly.

“Oh, it was actually so cute.” she said, nodding. “In Yeonnam-dong, not too big but the lighting’s really great. Especially in the afternoon.”

“And the outside looks beautiful too.” Yena added, grinning. “We were already planning a small coffee counter in front and Instagram photo spots.”

Hyewon looked impressed. 

“You two were out there for like, what, over two hours?”

“Over one hour, unnie.” Wonyoung replied, smiling. “But we saw the vision.”

You looked between them, your architect side was genuinely intrigued now.

“Sounds like a solid location.”

“It is,” Wonyoung said, her voice certain. “We’ve been talking about this studio for so long, it finally feels like it’s happening.”

“We’re just basically waiting on the right person to help us design it,” Yena added, throwing glances your way.

Hyewon caught the way Yena looked at you and smirked. “You’re not even subtle now.”

You raised your eyebrows, not saying anything yet. Wonyoung, however, didn’t look away.

“We had someone before, but the timing didn’t work out. So…” she said, calm. “We’re open to new ideas.”

Then she tilted her head just slightly, her eyes meeting yours.

“Or maybe the right person’s already here.”

A short pause arrived at the table. You exhaled a small laugh, surprised but not at all opposed.

“That sounds a lot like a pitch.”

She smirked, smiling into her wine glass. You glanced down at your plate, suddenly a little more aware of how warm your face felt.

“I mean, I could show you guys some on the projects I’ve worked on. If you’re curious.”

Wonyoung looked up first. 

“Really, oppa?”

“Yeah, I got a few files on my phone. Not all flashy, but solid enough.”

“Solid enough?” Yena said. “You’re underselling yourself, oppa.”

“I’m just saying.” you muttered, “They’re not exactly viral cafe material or anything.”

“Still.” Wonyoung said, her tone softer now. “We’d love to see them.”

Her gaze lingered, warm and steady. She really meant it.

“We’re serious.” she added. “Send them later. Or show us now if you want.”

You hesitated for half a second, then reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, unlocking it with a swipe.

“...Okay. Just don’t expect an aesthetic Pinterest board.”

Yena immediately. “Don’t worry, oppa. We’re not like that.”

You opened an app and tapped into a folder you hadn’t shared with anyone in a while now - site photos, render stuff, construction shots and a few finished interior works. Some cafes, a private rooftop home renovation, even a small art gallery for a chaebol’s daughter tucked in some corner of Gangnam-gu, that project paid really well. All designed just the way you liked it.

The three of them scooted in without hesitation, gathering on your side of the table. Yena leaned over your right shoulder. Hyewon peered in from across the table, leaning closer to get a better look. And Wonyoung - she was right next to you, too close. You could smell her perfume again. Then, without warning, she shifted even closer and rested her chin or your shoulder, like it was nothing. You felt like you were clinically dead. Her fingers reached out for the cuff of your rolled up sleeve. She began fidgeting with the fabric - gently folding it up and down, smoothing it out like it needed her help. Like she knew she was clearly setting every nerve in your arm on fire. Your breath stopped for a moment and your heart felt like it forgot how to beat. No one else seemed to notice.

For the next fifteen minutes, the restaurant faded out. They asked about your lighting choices, space planning, even what kind of clients you dealt with. 

“You can go into the other folder. There are more pictures…uh, easier to see how they turned out.” you said.

Wonyoung lifted her chin slightly and reached forward, tapping the screen.

“This one?”

“Yeah, that’s the finished shot.”

Her eyes scanned the photo, then she smiled - drawing you in.

“I like how you designed this space,” she pointed at a spot on the screen. “It feels like a nice touch. Like it’s lived in.”

And then - as if it was the most natural thing in the world - she replaced the hand that had been playing with your sleeves with the other one, letting her fingers drift along the back of your hand. She traced small circles there. You knew, she was actively trapping you with the gentlest, most casual touch in history. 

She’s got you good now.

You didn’t even know how to feel anymore. She didn’t look at you but her fingers never stopped moving. Yena and Hyewon, on the other hand, were busy talking and discussing about how the design would fit into their studio - where the flower prep area could be, how much the light could control the whole space, how their storage area could be hidden. And then, Yena swiped one more time before pausing. 

That photo. You were standing in the middle of a large gallery, dressed sharp and clean. On one side, Moon Seo-yoon - the chaebol’s daughter - radiant in a white jumpsuit. On the other side, her supermodel friend, Lee Gawon. Their arms hooked through yours and leaning a little too close to your shoulder, Gawon's face tilted toward yours like she had something to tell you.

Oh fuck. That wasn’t supposed to be in there.

“Wait, oppa.” Yena gasped. “Is that you?”

You cleared your throat, dreading this already.

“Uh, yeah, The small art gallery for the chaebol’s daughter I told you guys about a few minutes ago. That’s… uh, Moon Seo-yoon. The opening for her art gallery.”

Hyewon leaned in closer to confirm. “The Shinsegae girl?! You worked with her?”

“Uh… yeah,” you muttered, the wine glass suddenly looked so interesting.

Yena squinted at the screen. “Is that… Gawon?! The model Gawon?!”

You nodded slowly. 

“Yeah, she’s friends with Seo-yoon. That was…kind of a last-minute invite.”

Yena let out a low whistle. “You really are in the higher society, oppa.” 

“No, I’m not that kind of person. I just… work with them a lot.”

And just as you were mentally preparing for another disaster to strike, you felt Wonyoung’s fingers rhythm change - no more circles. She pinched the skin near your knuckle.

Once.

Twice.

Quick. Barely painful but somehow definitely felt too territorial. You turned your head slowly to look at her, your eyes wide. Wonyoung wasn’t looking at you - her face was perfectly neutral, like she was just watching Yena scrolling on the phone and nothing else. She nodded, playing along. You felt like she just claimed ownership of you in front of her two best friends. But her fingers returned to exactly where they were moments ago, this time resting against yours. 

And then, just as your heart began to settle, Wonyoung launched another attack. You felt a soft pressure on your shoe, the tip of hers stepping lightly on yours under the table.  Just enough to let you know she was there. That she knew exactly what she was doing. You couldn’t move. Not when she had a hold of your hand and foot.

Your ears were burning. Your chest was tight. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Wonyoung said nothing. Then-

“Wait-” Yena spoke up, rescuing you from the moment. “Is that who I think it is?”

Hyewon gasped. “No way.”

“Huh?” you blinked, dazed.

“This one.” Yena turned the photo to show a photo of you, maybe a few months ago. You, standing inside of what looked like a sleek, private room. Behind you were works of art - like actual pieces from international artists, you didn’t know who they were but their paintings seemed too expensive for you. They didn’t pay attention to that. But more importantly, right beside you stood T.O.P from BIGBANG, hand over your shoulders, smiling while wearing sunglasses even indoors. To your left, an actor and some directors. Well, not an ameteur actor. It was the Lee Byung-hun. Yena looked at you, mouth open.

“Oppa. You know T.O.P and Lee Byung-hun? Why does he have his arm over your shoulder like you two hang out?”

“It was his gallery room at his house.” you replied, the pressure of Wonyoung was still on yours, like she was still making a silent claim. 

“I helped… uh, worked on that. Not alone, obviously. But he was really cool. I've been a big fan of BIGBANG since I was a kid so…”

“You were at his house?” Hyewon asked, eyes wide.

“Just for meetings and other stuff.” you said quickly. “And a few celebrations.”

Yena shook her head in disbelief. 

“Is this normal for you? Like high profile people and celebrities?”

You let out a breath, thinking of what to say. “No, not really. Our studio does a lot of stuff for those people, private commissions and stuff. I just happened to end up working with them sometimes.” you replied, trying to keep your voice casual.

None of those celebrities, those clients had ever made you feel as dismantled as you felt right now - under Wonyoung’s control. Still, you haven’t said a thing. No one else noticed the power struggle happening at the table, except the two of you. Wonyoung was winning. Effortlessly. Quietly.

Eventually, Yena passed your phone back with a shocked look in her eyes, muttering something about reevaluating her life. Hyewon sipped her drink and leaned back, stretching. Everyone shifted in her seats, the dinner settled back to its normal rhythm. Wonyoung drew her hand back and sat properly in her chair, crossed one leg over the other and turned her head towards you - her eyes soft and her voice calm.

“Oppa.” she opened, casually. “About the floral studio…”

You looked over at her, trying not to look too hopeful.

“Would you, you know… maybe help us with it?”

Her tone was light, but she didn’t smile this time. Like she really meant it.

“We want something warm and open. Something people walk into and just feel good by already being there. I think…” she paused, searching your face. “You get what we’re going for.”

There came the offer. No teasing anymore. Just honesty. You blinked twice before answering.

“Yeah… of course, I’d love to. Need a call to my boss but he trusts me.”

And this time, Wonyoung smiled. 

Damn, she’s beautiful.

Before either of you could say anything, Yena clapped her hands together.

“Then let’s celebrate. More drinks. Yayyy!”

Hyewon raised her glass. 

“Yayy! Cheers to our studio.”

“And to our new architect oppa who we found in Hong Kong.” Yena added, raising her glass.

You laughed under your breath as your glass clinked with theirs. Wonyoung took a sip, this one longer than the last ones. A few minutes passed in relaxed chatter, then Yena turned to Wonyoung, who was now resting her cheek on one hand, the other playing with her glass.

“Wonyoung-ah,” Yena said, suspiciously. “Are you okay? You know you’re a light drinker.”

“I’m fine, unnie.” Wonyoung replied, too quickly as she straightened up in her seat. “Totally fine.”

“You say that everytime.” Hyewon laughed.

“She’s almost at that stage.” Yena explained to you.

“She’s about to get all red, pouty and whiny. It’s slowly coming now.”

“I don’t pout.” Wonyoung mumbled in her breath, definitely pouting. You bit back a smile and looked into the scenery before she caught it. 

When the bill came and the plates were cleared, the mood stayed light. Yena stretched and stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“We were gonna walk around a bit before heading back to the hotel. Maybe grab something light to eat along the way.”

Hyewon then turned to you.

“You should come with us, oppa. You’re already out, might as well stay longer, right?”

Wonyoung looked up at you then, eyes softer, sparkling under the warm lights. You paused.

“Yeah. Sure… Why not?”

The Hong Kong night air had cooled down just enough for the walk to feel nice. The four of you strolled along the Tsim Tsa Tsui Promenade, shoes tapping against the stone path as the city night life goes on in the background. Stunning. The skyline glittered on the other side of the water - skyscrapers lit up in colors, typical Hong Kong. 

Yena and Hyewon had drifted ahead, laughing at something between them. You knew it wasn’t an accident. They didn’t walk too fast - just far enough to leave you and Wonyoung behind. Wonyoung? She was blushing now - cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling from the wine, her steps were slower and a bit uneven. She was still very elegant. But her restraint was on a thin line, in the most dangerous way possible. And then, this girl reached for your shirt collar. Two fingers, light grip. Enough to pull you down, her lips were close to your ear, too close. You stiffened, holding back your breath.

And then, she whispered, slow and warm:

“...I know about your ex, oppa.”

Your heart dropped, heavy.

What the fuck?

“Yu Jimin.” she added. “Yena-unnie told me about her.”

You didn’t move any further. Well, you couldn’t anyway.

“She was beautiful, you know.” Wonyoung murmured, candies to your ear. 

“I spent like thirty minutes stalking her Instagram when I got back from the cafe.”

Her breath was so soft, hitting your ear and neck. Warm too. Her words did things to you that you couldn’t describe.

“Perfect skin. Beautiful face. The kind of girl that people noticed even when she’s not trying. Nice… body, too.”

You swallowed hard. You didn’t know what that tone of her was. Jealousy? Bitterness? That made it even worse. Then, Wonyoung let out a quietest laugh, enough to kill you.

“I was really sad when I thought you were one of those guys, you know? Fresh out of a breakup, walking around all polished and lonely. Looking for some new girl to satisfy your needs.”

No, I’m definitely not that type of guy.

She paused then pulled back slightly - just enough to tilt her head and look up at you, lashes heavy, smile lazy from too much wine.

“Oppa, you’re not those guys, right? 환승연애*…?”

*환승연애/hwanseung yeonae: like transit love, when some one’s fresh off a relationship, starting a new one but still deeply in love with the previous lover. Popular term recently in Korean, it went off due to a few dating programs.

Those words hit harder than any punch you ever took. You were about to answer, opening your mouth when Wonyoung cut in. 

“Yena-unnie vouched for you. Said you were a really nice, serious guy. Proper. Mature. The kind of man who does not play around. Just my type, oppa.” her smile widened, just enough.

And then she slid her hand up, slowly, calculated - the one that had been resting at her side, brushing over your chest before moving up to your throat, tracing around. Then, she hooked her finger at the second button of your shirt and unbuttoned it. Just one. But it felt like she had just stripped away all of your remaining confidence. Wonyoung then looked up, her voice low, dangerous.

“I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

You blinked.

“And I’ve never acted like this around anyone before…sober or drunk.”

And then she decided to finish you off with one last action. She poked you on your chest - right where your heart was - a few times, lightly.

“So… you better gain my trust, oppa.”

Wonyoung didn’t wait for a reply. She knew she had you in the palm of her hand. She turned and kept walking to catch up with Hyewon and Yena. Her hair was flowing in the wind, shining under the city glow.

Am I in a 90s Hong Kong romance?

You stood there for a few seconds. Breath shallow, chest burning. One button undone. Wonyoung did all that to you in just under one day. You dragged your hand over your face and exhaled.

Fuck…

The four of you eventually reached the end of the promenade, a quieter area where Yena was calling for the rides, Hyewon humming something while scrolling on her phone. Wonyoung was leaning slightly against a railing, Miu Miu bag over her shoulder. This girl looked far too classy and elegant to be tipsy - until you walked to her. She turned to you when you approached, eyes a bit wide, lips pouting in that dreamy, tipsy fashion. 

She could kill a thousand men with that look.

“Oppa.” she muttered. 

“Was I crazy… or annoying today?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Just wondering.” She leaned in again - the same way she had all night. 

“I don’t act this way normally. Or touch that much. Or…”

Her voice dropped, sultry but still had you waiting.

“...look at someone like this before. I just want to let you know that.”

Without waiting for your answer, she reached up to adjust the collar of your shirt, her knuckles intentionally brushing your jaw.

“I’m a little drunk.” she whispered, cheeks blazing. What were you supposed to say now? 

“But I still know what I’m doing, oppa.”

Her eyes wide, glassy, shining under the city glow. You could feel that lingering closeness. Then Yena called her, standing near a car. Wonyoung blinked slowly, like she didn’t want to let go before taking a small step back. One hand brushing her hair, the other playing with her expensive bag. Before she left, she said just one more thing. An order. Her voice low, sultry.

“Don’t disappear on me, okay?”

And then she walked away. You were now at a new chapter in your life.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

That night, you were on your bed. The hotel ceiling felt like it was spinning slowly above. Not from the wine, you were sure. You were on your phone, looking at her Instagram.

@for_everyoung10 - she already hit the follow button when you gave her your phone to add her contacts. She had already followed you back too.

140K followers. Not a celebrity. Not an influencer. Just… Jang Wonyoung. She wasn’t exactly a model either. But you could tell a few small local brands already caught on - tagged her in photoshoots for linen clothing, soft pastel colored clothing, “princess core” type of fashion. Nothing over the top. All clean, natural. Wonyoung looked like she belonged in every frame. You scrolled. Slowly.

A few GRWM (get ready with me) vlogs in her reels.

“Hi guys, get ready with me to…”

“Today I’m going for a smart casual look…”

“I’m using this foundation from…”

Fuck… her voice is so addicting.

A few clips of her dancing around with Yena and Hyewon somewhere.

A few clips of her trying out new cafes with her other friends.

You kept going. You didn’t even know you were smiling. Or that your chest was beating irregularly. What the hell was she doing to you? You were still staring at her feed when it hit you.

Shit. The studio.

You had casually agreed to a design project on the spot - with a girl who’d unbuttoned your shirt, poked your heart and walked off like she hadn’t messed up your whole system. You sighed before tapping on the group chat with Dabin and Barom.

[You]

you guys up?

[바롬보스] (Barom Boss)

barely. why? don’t tell me u got arrested in hongkong?

[다빈형]

is it that girl again?

it’s 12am in korea rn

[You]

video?

The screen flashed. Incoming video call. You answered.

Barom’s face filled the top corner, probably on his bed too. Dabin joined later - his face already grinning.

“Okay.” Barom said. “Talk.”

You rolled over on the bed.

“Hyung, I may have… accepted another project.”

Dabin squinted. “Define may have.”

Barom raised a brow. “Define project”

You sighed. 

“A floral studio. In words. In Yeonnam-dong.”

Then Barom broke into a laugh, switching to English with his Australian accent.

“A what? Since when do you design flower shops?”

“Since he met that dreamy girl this morning.” Dabin added, not without laughing.

“Why do I have to talk to you guys in English everytime?” you said.

“Deal with it. I’m your boss, us two are 교포*.” Barom replied.

*교포/gyopo: ethnic Korean but born and raised/living in foreign countries.

“Heritage.” Dabin said.

“So what’s the story? Client fell for your crisp suit and mysterious vibe.” Barom asked.

“Nothing like that.” you replied.

“Tell us.”

“So they’re just starting the studio - flower based shop, maybe a small coffee counter at the front, photo friendly interior. It’s been a passion project for them. They had someone to work on it but it didn’t work out. Wonyoung - the girl, asked me over dinner. I said yes before thinking too much about it.”

“Wonyoung?” Barom asked, confused.

“The girl I’m… you know.” you replied, rubbing your temple.

Barom nodded, like he understood exactly what you meant.

“Look, I get it. Your performance over the past few months has been solid. And honestly, we don’t have a crazy load right now. You’ve been clean on deadlines since day one. As long as it doesn’t clash with other projects, I’m okay with it. But…”

He stared right at you through the screen.

“Don’t take the job just because she’s pretty. That shit doesn’t end well.”

Dabin nodded.

“Yeah, especially with you, man.”

“C’mon, man.” you replied.

“But hey, I trust you. When you come back from Hong Kong, talk to me more about this and if it’s okay, I’ll send you out to lead this project. Like usual, you do most of the work and I just take a look at it before signing it off. Perfect teamwork.”

“Hey, thanks, man. I appreciate this trip, you know. After the break up and all that.”

Barom nodded, understanding your position.

“Yeah, you needed a break. Honestly, I should’ve made you take one sooner.”

“You almost worked yourself into death.” Dabin added.

“C’mon man…” you sighed.

“So how did you meet this girl?” Barom asked.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

After 30 minutes of video call, you set the phone down on your chest, exhaling slowly to calm yourself down. For a second, it was quiet before your phone buzzed.

[워녕이녕이🐰] sent you 2 images

You didn’t even have the chance to text her first. This girl always managed to surprise you. You tapped on the notification.

Wonyoung on her bed - makeup still there, cheeks a little flushed, long hair splayed around in that messy perfect way. The light was warm. Soft. Your brain short circuited immediately. Still staring when another text came. Stunning.

[워녕이녕이🐰] 

do i look cute?

hyewon unnie took it for me

she said i looked like i was in a drama  ㅋㅋㅋ

You hovered over the keyboard. Typing before you backspaced. Rewrote it.

[You]

i think you just ended me

[워녕이녕이🐰] 

so should i post it on insta?

or…

keep this between us?

like a gift for u

Your heart skipped. You didn’t even know how to answer.

Damn… she got you good.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

yayy!! wony is the best!!! so i tried something new. at least that's what i thought. pls let me know what u guys think about this. i had a lot of fun writing this. thanks for reading!!

[cook-a-little-chicken]

That Agent and Supervillain scene was so sweet, and we got some of the best acting I've ever seen from AJ!

^ Acting-wise, yes I think it might be for AJ, and Sam was an amazing foil!

And I could tell Tom really enjoyed it too! We might've gotten a record number of audible Tom laughs in a scene, with 10 in under 6 minutes!

Some of my favourite moments (specifically with the tone of voice and expressions):

"I see you've fallen into my little trap"

"it still excites me each time. How am I going to get you this time?"

"confusing I know"

"I'm not obsessed with you"

"how come you don't follow me"

"I did like a fire emoji, the other day" + the glint in his eye as he said that

"you made me a collaborator on the post"

"I've actually deleted it. I just- It's not good for my mental health"

"You've changed my name every time. You don't even know my name!"

"you're not even like on my top five nemesis" [gasp of pain and betrayal] "I have tried to do the vorst things just to get you to come and haunt me down"

[tearfully] "I was just trying to get your attention"

"I don't give a fuck about- he's not hot. He's like "oh!", you know, it's- no"

AJ's quiet little "uhkay"s

the whole pre-hug bit

Tom's face after AJ's "one hug and then that's it. And then- I promise, you'll never see me again"

AJ's desperate whispered "please"

the gentlest hug from AJ

Also, I can't explain it, but the little "uhkay"s that AJ does after "it's too much. you're right" sounds so similar to how Sam said it in a livestream from home, which AJ found funny and repeated. I have no clue which livestream it's from and this is such a vague clue that I doubt anyone will get it but I'll just put this out there-

And here are some nice parallels with Thirsty Vamps!

starts with Sam being held captive in AJ's lair

it's later revealed that he was caught on purpose

AJ is confused by the name he's given

AJ starts off as this evil villain but turns out he's slightly whiny and desperate for love and attention

one-sided gay attraction (love how we've been given both Sapphic and Achillean versions, and both are masterpieces)

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi! can I get an order of the buttered popcorn with a milkshake with a ticket to the swings??

Come on down to the fair!

Order up: Eddie Munson with hurt/comfort and miscommunication

Summary: After he introduces you as his girlfriend without talking to you first, you and Eddie have to have a conversation about where your relationship is going.

The bar is packed as you sit and watch Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin get on stage. This is definitely a bigger crowd than usual and that’s because you took it upon yourself to put out flyers advertising the show tonight. You know people love live music and you thought this would be a great way to get the band some new fans. It’s the least you could do for your-well, you don’t exactly know what Eddie is to you because you never discussed it. You’ve been hanging out and sure, you’ve slept together quite a few times, but you’re still unsure.

The lights go down and you turn, giving the band your undivided attention. You sip on your drink as a spotlight shines down on Eddie. Now he’s the only other person in the room as everyone else seems to disappear. That’s how it always is when the two of you are in the same room together. It’s almost like no one else matters.

He turns to his left and gives you a smile as he sings one of the many songs he wrote for you directly to you. You hope to talk about where your relationship stands after the show. You know you like each other, but the status still hasn’t become clear. You just want to know what it is so you can stop thinking about it. It’s taken up every inch of your brain but you’re actually too scared to ask him.

Eddie has been head over heels for you since the second he saw you sitting on that very stool all those months ago. He wants to tell you that he loves you-that he wants to be more than-well, whatever you are. He wants to be able to introduce you as his girlfriend even though he’s more than nervous to do so.

He’s never felt this way before. He’s never actually fallen for anyone he’s hooked up with. He wasn’t supposed to fall for you, but god, did he. And he fell hard. When he thinks about his future, all he can see is the two of you together. He pictures you on the road with the band, cheering him on. He sees the two of you getting married and having kids-if you want them. Even though you’ve only known each other for a couple months, he’s in this for life.

Their short performance ends pretty quickly and Eddie makes a beeline for you as soon as the last note is sung. He pulls you in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek before throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Guys,” he says as you make eye contact with his three band members. “This is y/n, my girlfriend.” Everything goes still as the words leave his mouth. You’re trying to play it off like he’s said those words a million times, but you’re actually mentally freaking out. You wish he would have at least talked to you first before introducing you as his girlfriend to his closest friends.

They all tell you that it’s nice to meet you and you feel like a dick for basically ignoring them, but you’re too in your head right now. You’re honestly just trying to think about how you want to go about bringing it up to him. He obviously seemed really excited to use the word in reference to you, but you guess it just caught you off guard.

You’re both silent when you leave the bar and head to Eddie’s van. He’s embarrassed that you were so rude to his friends. He doesn’t usually introduce his hookups to them, but thought you were different. And he still thinks that you are but that it was just a bad night.

You sit in the van, still both quiet as Eddie puts the keys in the ignition but he doesn’t crank it. You turn to him and he gives you his undivided attention as he prepares for whatever you’re going to say. Even though he has a pretty good idea. You’re going to break up with him. This is it. The end. Why else would you be acting so weird?

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, breaking the silence. “I just-I wish you would have talked to me before introducing me as your girlfriend.” He didn’t even think about that. He honestly thought that the two of you were on the same page. He was sure that you were just as into him as he was to you-that you were together and just didn’t need to discuss the specifics.

“I really like you, Eddie, and I do want to be your girlfriend, but I just wish you would have talked to me first.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies, scooting closer to you. He takes your hands in his and looks you directly in the eyes, his pretty brown ones boring into yours. “I won’t ever do that again. I was just-excited and I really wanted you to meet my friends.”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have been so rude to them. I’ll fix it next time. That is, if you want to give this a shot?”

“I’d love nothing more,” he says, leaning in for a kiss. You both smile into it-your first one as a couple. And all of that anger melts away as you pour everything into it, feeling like nothing but the luckiest people on the planet.

[date-everything-headquarters]

Realization spoilers (spoilers after you realize a character, any character)

I love Sam's reaction after hearing how you created a whole human being.

Because after learning about Realization, but before I had the SPEC points to actually realize anyone, I too was worried about making these objects human.

Like, don't they realize how harsh the outside world can be?

Plus, they have absolutely no paperwork. No birth certificate. No Social Security Number. No bank account. No money.

How would they be able to survive? To even get a job or a place to stay?

So after I realized my first character and Sam brought all of these points up, I was like "yes! Yes it's a real concern! These things are asking for human life, but can they handle human life?!"

Very funny that the game was like "hey, don't worry about it. It'll turn out fine!"

But I do think it would be interesting to explore how that would work out, probably with specific characters because doing all of them at once might be overwhelming.

Like, you have a new person (Or persons, demanding if you realized Volt and Eddie, or the Hanks) in your house!

And both of you realize that they have no money, no bank account, no birth certificate, no social security number....

They were planning on leaving, but... How could they?

So now you got yourself a new roommate(s).

And you help them adapt to living as a human. Like, needing to eat, and shower, and sleep.

(and you two coming to the realization "oh, there's only one bed in this house... Guess we have to share...")

And it must be really weird for the object/newly turned person, right?

Like, ok, imagine looking at a table... And usually that table would be Abel. But it's... Not. It's just a bunch of wood.

Or the shower being Johnny, a wanna signer. But now it's just... A shower. An object.

Or imagine looking at what YOU used to be. Imagine touching what you used to be. Now you're just... A bunch of metal/plastic/wood/whatever.

And the house is so quiet. You're so used to the house being so full, nearly 100 different people/things. There was always something going on.

In the living room Telly used to constantly be on, shouting references. Or Mateo would be dealing with the inanimals. Or Keyes would be playing some music. Or Rainy would be playing and dancing.

But now it's so... Empty. The people you used to call your friends are just... Things.

And the only company you have is the Homeowner. Which is nice, but sometimes you wish for a little... More.

You can't help but want to ask them to realize other objects too. So you can finally talk to your friends. But you never do. The living arrangements are already tight with just one bed. And they're already stretching their monthly food budget to feed you as well. You can't ask for another mouth to feed.

So you spend your time watching Telly, watching the News, trying to learn more about the human world. And you can't believe you're expected to go and live in... That. In that world.

In that *messed up* world.

You almost want to ask the Homeowner if Skylar can reverse the Realization. That you can go back to being an object.

As an object you didn't have to worry about global warming, or the cost of living, or what your career is going to be, or where you're going to live.

Your home was confined to the walls of this home. The place was a bit small, but there were lots of people. And it was... Simple.

But looking around at the things in the house. All of the things you can't talk to.

You realize you're not apart of their world anymore.

... Ok that kind of got away from me, lol. But I do think this would be a good fic premise! Send me in suggestions of who you want me to write as the First Realization, I have some ideas in my head for a few characters, lol. And I think each character will react to being the first in different ways! So feel free to suggest any character!

[dreaminofdixon]

Twenty.

This is just kind of a fluffy filler chapter. :)

The kitchen was warm—the kind of warmth that came from people working close together, from steam rising off the pot of boiling water on the makeshift stove, and from the rare, fleeting comfort of companionship.

Honestly, it was nice to spend some time with these two. Felt like I hadn’t really talked to Carol and Lori in ages—not like this. Not with laughter and easy conversation and the kind of relaxed silence that made the world outside feel just a little less broken.

I missed them.

That realization hit like a quiet surprise. Soft, but sharp. Was this what having friends felt like? Not just surviving side by side, but sharing something human in the middle of all this ruin?

“It’s almost like a real family dinner,” Carol said, voice light but laced with something deeper.

She stirred a pot of wild greens—hands steady, eyes far away. Some other kitchen. Some other life.

I snorted and glanced down at the rabbit in front of me.

“I mean, I’m not sure about you, but I never had to butcher my own protein for a family dinner.”

I dragged the knife along the rabbit’s skin, trying not to waste anything. The blade caught, and I grimaced.

“As made obvious by my lack of skill in the practice…”

I let out a self-conscious laugh and shook my head at the uneven cuts.

“We’re all learnin’ on the fly,” Lori said, chopping carrots with that steady, mom-who’s-seen-it-all rhythm.

The soft thud of her knife mixed with the fire crackling outside.

“I’ve never had to do half the stuff I’ve done these past few months. Laundry by hand, for one.”

“Washer broke once,” Carol added quietly, rinsing a handful of herbs. “Ed refused to replace it. So I learned how to do it the old-fashioned way. Scrubbing shirts in a bucket until my knuckles were raw.”

She went quiet, her hands pausing in the water. Memory pressed down on her, shadowing the space between us.

I looked up. Her eyes were somewhere else. Her fingers hovered in the basin, herbs dripping, forgotten.

“You never forget,” she said, more to herself than to us.

She shook her head and forced a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I couldn’t imagine,” Lori murmured. “Carl’s clothes were always a mess. Not having a washer would’ve been a nightmare.”

I nodded, trying to lighten the mood.

“One time, my washer broke and it took a month to get the parts. My apartment looked like a laundromat. I was using a wooden spoon to agitate clothes in the bathtub. Like some kind of pioneer woman.”

I chuckled, the sound weirdly bright in the gloom, and set my knife down with a sigh.

“I’m thankful you learned how to do laundry, Carol. Because you were able to teach us.”

“Mm… thankful now,” Carol said, that familiar glint in her eye. “But at the time, I wanted to wash his clothes in the toilet.”

“That’s one way to get a spin cycle,” I grinned.

We burst into laughter. Loud and echoing. For a moment, we weren’t fighters. Weren’t survivors. Just three women in a kitchen, sharing jokes over dinner prep like the world hadn’t gone to hell.

“What are you ladies laughing at?”

Rick’s voice cut in, warm and teasing.

He stepped inside, boots soft on the floorboards, and wrapped an arm around Lori’s waist. Kissed her temple like it wasn’t a miracle just to still have each other.

“Old days,” Carol said with a smile.

“Old days, huh?” Rick leaned against the counter, giving us a look. “So how far back exactly was it we were doing laundry in the toilet?”

He laughed as Lori swatted at him with a towel. Missed him by inches, but she grinned anyway. The rest of us joined in.

“Anything you need, ladies?”

“No, thank you,” I said, still smiling.

“Alright. I’ll check in with Daryl and Shane about tonight’s watch. Looks like we’re gonna eat well.”

One last kiss on Lori’s head, then he slipped out, door creaking shut behind him.

“Speaking of Daryl…” Carol said.

And just like that, I froze.

Didn’t even have to look up. I felt it. The energy shift. The sideways glances.

“What do you mean?” I asked, aiming for casual. Landed somewhere around guilty teenager.

Carol raised a brow. That smirk forming. The one that meant trouble.

“You and Daryl? You sneak off more than teenagers at a party. What’s goin’ on there?”

“We’re friends,” I said too quickly. “Friends do that.”

“...with benefits?” Lori chimed in, leaning close, eyes wide.

I wiped my hands on the towel, trying to will the heat out of my face.

“Sorry, ladies. I’ve got nothin’ to report.”

“Not even a little something?” Lori pressed.

“Or you know… big?” Carol added, barely holding in her cackle.

My jaw dropped.

“Did you just—?!”

I stared at her in horror. Mortified. Laughing anyway.

“Oh come on,” Lori said. “Please tell me you’re—”

“NO. Oh my God. I cannot with you guys right now.”

I buried my face in my hands, half laughing, half groaning.

“She’s married, and I’m… whatever I am,” Carol smirked. “We need distractions. Give us something.”

“I… I can’t even deal with you two.”

“Just know we’re always watching,” Lori said, ominously.

“You guys are the worst.”

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” Carol asked suddenly, more serious now.

“No,” I said. Quieter. “Definitely not. Just… been a while.”

“Honey, I was married and it’s been a while,” Carol scoffed. “Please tell me you’re planning to…”

I let my head fall back again.

“You are relentless.”

“Alright, Carol, I think she’s had enough,” Lori said, laughing gently. She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll know, though. Won’t we?”

She winked.

“I’m going full robot from now on,” I warned. “No emotions. No tells. You’ll never know.”

“Sure, sure,” Carol grinned.

The laughter faded. Quiet settled in again.

I reached for a cloth to wipe the counter… then paused. Their teasing had been harmless. Loving. But it clung to me a little—like a song lyric that stuck in your head and meant something you didn’t want to admit.

Was I really that obvious?

Lori stepped a little closer.

“We’re just messin’ with you, sweetie,” she said softly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

I nodded, offering a small smile, and wiped the counter like it meant something.

“I know. It’s just… nice to have this. You guys. Even if you’re the worst.”

Carol squeezed my arm gently.

“Anytime, hon.”

And as we turned back to the pots, the herbs, the rabbit—and the world outside waited to crash back in—I realized I didn’t have to say anything at all.

They’d be there, either way.

**** So, I decided to cheat...and I asked ChatGPT to format this specifically for Tumblr (pardon my newness to this fantastic tool, but, did you KNOW that it could do that?!). I usually just proof it, edit until I'm tired of reading it, and then make sure it's legible in the post. Do we like this kind of formatting instead? It's easier on the eyes, I think...? I dunno. Not sold.

@imadisneyprincessiswear

@knight-of-the-doctor

@lisluvstwd

*****

[lyxchen]

You know I really love how Squid Game pushes it's scenes so far that it makes you feel that sense of urgency and distress that the characters feel. It can easily happen that if a scene goes on for too long for the purpose of keeping you in suspense that it then gets boring or annoying. But that never happens in Squid Game. Some scenes are incredibly long, especially the games, I know I got so stressed out watching Dalgona for the first time because the scene just would not end. But that's exactly what the length of that scene is supposed to do for you. Often when you are feeling a lot of anxiety or are in a moment of intense stress everything around you can feel slower. Like time takes longer to pass. Especially when you have a time limit and still need to concentrate and not make any mistakes. And in my opinion Squid Game conveys that perfectly. The games, they drag on even though a game itself is often not that long. Red Light, Green Light has a timelimit of 5 minutes. That's so little!! But they make you feel every damn second of it while watching. I'm not sure if the actual scene was longer than 5 minutes, but it probably was. But they don't cut out stuff. Often when things happen over a span of time in shows and movies they don't add in parts where not much happens and just cut to the part that's interesting again. But in Squid Game because it is life or death and because of how anxiety can make you feel like time is passing slower every moment for the players feels so long and every moment is important. And that's what I really love in how they made the show. Because yes scenes may be going on for a long time. But they're showing you in the most realistic way possible how the players experience these moments. Add to that that there's almost no added in music like pop songs and in general there's not that much background music either. Because it would just take you out of the intensity of the scene, seperate you from the character's point of view. So a lot of scenes are very quiet in the way that every sound you hear is also a sound that a character inside the show is hearing too. Squid Game, just in the way it's made and filmed and in how long scenes take, is made to be so realistic and wants you to feel as closely as possible to what the characters themselves are feeling too. I really love this way of making a show

Btw I made this post because I realized that this doesn't just happen in the games but also outside of them. When Gi-hun is searching for the recruiter we get a montage of all of them searching, the days passing and Gi-hun ripping off pages from his calendar, but even here that montage takes longer than a montage to show the passage of time usually takes. Because it is long. They can't show us every day of Gi-hun just searching again and again but they can sure make us feel like we've just watched that. And you start out watching it thinking "oh they're gonna show us them finding him in like the next 30 second" but they don't. And there's one point where you think the montage is over but then it isn't. And you get frustrated watching it because "why can't they find the recruiter already?? This is taking so long" and that's Exactly how Gi-hun is feeling in that moment. They drag it out, they show you so much of everybody just searching and days passing and they Want you to be annoyed, because then you're really getting it. You're really getting how fucking long it took to find the Recruiter and what a painfully and annoyingly slow and exhausting process it was. And that's just another way that this show is so damn amazing!!! Because it's so fucking good at making you feel exactly what a character is feeling!! They're not just telling you "oh yeah this took long but they did it", no. They're Showing you exactly how long it took.

And suddenly we've arrived at one of my favorite story telling rules which is "show, don't tell" and I think Squid Game applies this rule really really well

(I have more rambly thoughts under the cut that have a little bit to do with this post but focus on another part of it. Also if the structure of this post feels weird that's probably because I had many different thoughts and just kinda put them where I felt they fit in best so idk, I have a hard time rereading stuff I've written so sorry if the flow of it feels off)

Tbh I think it might also be a little bit why the show appeals to so many people and why so many people go and participate in Squid Game the Challenge or that Mr Beast shit. With the way Squid Game is made and filmed to be so immersive it has the power to give the viewer that same rush of adrenaline that the players inside the show feel. But us viewers sit at home and we know we are safe and so we want more of that adrenaline. It's maybe kind of like Bungee Jumping. You get that rush, that thrill of "holy shit I'm Falling", but you know you're safe. You're doing something you would otherwise only experience right before death. And obviously that is what Squid Game the Challenge is like, because being in it you know if this was real, as in real the way it is real in the show, then you'd be very close to death at any given moment. But you're not. Because you don't die if you fail. But you still get that thrill because of that association with death without actually having to be afraid of it. And that's when it gets fun. And while I don't think that this was intended the show is partly also as popular as it is, Because just by watching it you get a little bit of that adrenaline that's fun for you because you know you're safe

Also another thought about the 'show, don't tell' point of it all. There's not that much talking happening in Squid Game. Like people obviously speak to each other but often there are also long periods of time where nobody is speaking at all. But that doesn't matter because this show is so good at showing us everything that is important without much words needed. I'm pretty sure you could watch it without sound or subtitles and still get most of the plot of it. And that's really impressive

[wardingshout]

Hi!! I just wanted to say that the way you draw characters/use colors in your art is an absolute dream, I've never seen anything prettier. Do you have a specific way you pick/use colors, or any advice for coloring? You inspire my art so much, and I'd love to learn how to color like you someday :)

@braventheninth gonna reply to both of you here hope that's cool!

aaaah thank you so much I'm really honoured to hear you both like it and that it inspires you anon !! ;v; I don't actually know much about art theory-wise, aside from very basic colour theory that I always forget so most of my choices are pretty instinctual and based on my own preferences!

i can do my best to explain my thought process though! uuh it is. lots of text though just as a warning.

one thing I tend to do with almost everything is pick what kind of colour mood I'm going for! usually, since I love orange and also warm feelings, I'll aim for some kind of warm tone and when doing that I try to slide every colour I pick towards the warm end of the colour wheel. Blacks and whites are especially good for this! As a general thing I almost fully avoid picking any colours along those edges of the colour picker

instead I'll move all my colour choices a nudge into the square for the colours towards the tone I want (in this case warm) (the white is there be warm too I just forgor to type it).

and since I wanted warm colours for this drawing I desaturated the blue of Brain's pants so it would fit in better. I once heard someone say you should always pick one main colour and saturate fully and the further away from it on the colour wheel you got, the more desaturated your colours should be. I don't really do that bc I like my colours to stay bright but I do keep it in mind to mess around with sometimes.

I'm not always great at keeping this consistent, but I think it usually makes for pretty decent results... Other things I keep in mind are that when I pick the colour for my shadows I always make a little slide on the colour wheel towards the opposite tone of what I based my main colours on. oh and picking the right base colours ?? no clue tbh I always put every colour on it's own layer and then I spend a couple minutes adjusting them all seperately until I feel like they go well enough together. I usually avoid the bottom to right section of the square fully, bc I find they often get oversaturated and muddy, but that's just a personal preference I guess.

also since I enjoy the way coloured lineart works for my stuff I tend to mess around with layer settings for my lineart! usually the end results will look something like this:

where the clipped layer is clipped on to my colours folder. lineart is the only place where I just use plain black since I'm gonna change it with these layer settings later. it often still shows up as black for darker colours (and especially blues?) but it keeps a slightly coloured edge that I enjoy. if the blacks of the end result don't look good, messing around with the layer opacity usually changes stuff up. sometimes I'll also erase part of the lineart from one of the layers as a way to adjust.

I think what might be more relevant though, is the way I've been picking my colours for most of my recent posts though, which is. very differently. and also quite dependant on the fact I've been drawing on Tegaki! Tegaki has a limited colour palette that looks like this

only the 6 colour slots next to the bottom greyscale can be replaced by your own colours. As shown here I only bothered to add something to half of them; mainly the beige-ish colour I like to use for whites, a brown that I never use bc it's ugly with everything else here and a purple? that I only Think I added. both the brown and purple suffer from being too desaturated for the rest of the palette, which makes them stand out in a pretty bad way when used tbh.

I have. absolutely no idea what I'm doing with colours on this site though ngl. I think it just automatically pushes you to be a little more chaotic with the choices? a simple example is the green I picked for Link's tunic here doesn't really have any good, easy choice for shading imo. most of the "darker" green tones just feel more saturated, and it sticks out pretty bad as a shading colour for the more muted green I picked for the tunic. Removing those, the choice was either a mossy green or a blue.

and while the mossy green is still green, it feels far too dark a shading colour compared to what I picked as shading for the rest of the drawing. The blue has the added bonus of being closer to the purple I used for the black-ish parts.

I think my point is that it's really easy to push yourself to make some fun new choices when the tools you're using limit you a bit in a way? Looking at it now, I'm also seeing that the hands were lined with very different colours. I remember just thinking that I couldn't be bothered to find the exact same purple I used for the first hand so I just went with the first thing I landed on, that being a pink. But now I think it works pretty well since the one hand is lifted a bit more into the light and that goes well for a bright colour like pink. happy accidents and all that right ?

I am fully just yapping at this point 🧍 but the point still goes for most things drawn on this site.

like there was no reason to add the blues or reds or pinks to the heather here but I only had so many purple shades to work with. it might be less realistic but I don't think it would've come out as well if I had stuck to only the purple shades from my reference photo.

This ended up way way too long and I have no idea if any of it made sense or was helpful at all, but it was surprisingly fun to reflect on my own choices a bit more! especially since I often just do whatever I feel like I think it's helpful to sit back and consider what instinct actually tells me it's the right thing to do.

in an attempt to do something actually helpful uuh I recommend messing around with 2 specific things and switching around with them a bit; namely limited colour palettes (like 1 or 2 main tones imo) and then just going absolutely ham and just using whatever colour for everything (make them orange! put some blue and purple on the bark! leaves can be blue if they want to! (go more ham than I did tbh))

I think just messing around does so much for making some kind of sense of colours even without Knowing how they work. it's easy to say we should all study, but personally I'm pretty bad at it and it's more fun to just trial and error it... errors do happen a lot though omg do they happen, but that's helpful for figuring stuff out too!

[vaguely-concerned]

I was going to have rye maaaybe start to buy into solas' whole johnny silverhand deal a little bit more in the post-weisshaupt talk -- to Progress the Arc tm/set up the beginning softening in that relationship and heighten the effect when it eventually goes. quite another way entirely -- but the sheer spectacular cruelty in hindsight of 'at least you still have varric to talk to' is such that considering where I'm intending to end up with this narratively, the stoic 'not here to make friends you fucker gimme your intel' option is simply irresistible. gotta have that echo rattling around rye's head forever when he decides that you know what? I have had enough of being nice, actually. I do want to go ape shit. someone hold my coat for me please I have some work to do and I don't want to stain it. guess for now the ol' watcher training & instincts are still kicking in enough for them to treat solas like a tricky spirit you should treat with respect and good intentions, but also shouldn't be out there offering little fingers to unless you have a whole arm lying around to spare haha

[figureitoutinthemorning]

Hmmmmm okay you all can ignore this lmao I’m just going to Complain On The Internet for a bit because I’m pretty sure it’s that or tell the next person to say hi my entire life story, and no one wants that, least of all me ✌️