#daniela imagines

the smell of coffee was prominent, daniela just made a whole pot for the both of you. you sat on the kitchen counter, legs swinging back and forth. you sported one of daniela’s oversized hoodies, the warm mug in your hands.

you’ve always liked daniela, but you knew she wasn’t into you, she wasn’t even into girls in general. it was something she said years ago that you held onto.

“you make coffee way better than i do.”

“you just need to practice, besides i really like your coffee.. it’s bitter in a good way.”

you laugh — a sound that comes easy to you, a sound that made daniela’s chest feel warm.

the sun’s glow on your figure was enough to make daniela forget how to breathe.

daniela didn’t know when it started happening — the long stares, her pumping heart, the way your face was plastered in her mind.

you raise a brow, “what?”

“nothing. you just look like you belong here.”

“in your house?”

“something like that.”

⋆˙⟡

the bed was a mess of blankets and snacks, a cheesy movie playing on the screen, though neither of you were actually watching.

you were half asleep, eyes threatening to close as your head rested on daniela’s shoulder — fingers drawing invisible shapes into the palm of daniela’s hand.

daniela’s heart was beating like crazy, she could smell the vanilla shampoo you’d used earlier, the scent blending with her floral one.

when the characters in the movie kissed, you smiled softly, “took them long enough.” daniela whispered, her voice quiet. you almost laughed, “you’re one to talk..” you mumble into her sleeve.

“what do you mean?”

“just.. you’re impossible.. it’s nothing.”

daniela wanted to bother you for a better answer, but then your arm wrapped around her waist and she forgot about everything, all at once.

⋆˙⟡

rain fell in a rhythmic pattern against the window, the pattering sound bringing you comfort. daniela began to clean up the board game, glancing at you every so often.

she was curious about what you were drawing, finally peeking over to get a look.

“that’s really good.”

you close your book and fake pout, “dani.. i told you to wait until after.”

she laughs at your words, “i couldn’t help it, it’s been thirty minutes, i had to look.”

you offer a genuine smile. “i’ll forgive you, only because you said it looked good.”

daniela playfully gasps, “i need to stop feeding your ego.”

“no you don’t.” you both laugh — you were used to this. your heart swelling with warmth. you kept it in because the woman in front of you wouldn’t return your feelings, but daniela felt something even stronger. her attraction to you wasn’t so subtle anymore, and she couldn’t even deny it.

⋆˙⟡

the kitchen was a mess, flour was everywhere, the white powder visible on your clothes, and on daniela’s face.

“okay. i think you added way too much sugar.”

you stick your finger into the bowl, tasting what the both of you made.

“uhm impossible, sugar is love.”

“you’re going to make us diabetic.”

“worth it.” you smile as you dust the flour off your clothes.

daniela watched you— she really watched you

the way your eyes moved when you smiled, the way your lips twisted when you were focused, the way you looked perfect. impossibly perfect.

her chest felt full, the words were right there — i think i’m in love with you — but she couldn’t find the courage to say them.

instead, she grabbed a pinch of flour and threw it at you, giggling at your state.

you gasp in shock, “you’re so going to get it!” you do the same, the both of you going back and forth with flour and feelings.

she could live in this moment forever

⋆˙⟡

days went by, same routine as always. you took the time to send silly pictures, leaving small sticky notes with sweet messages throughout her house, daniela cooked for you both, loving the warmth you brought into her life.

⋆˙⟡

one night you were asleep on her lap, daniela reached to brush a strand of hair out of your face, smiling. “you’re ridiculous. you have no idea what you do to me. i love you.”

you stirred a little, muttering a small, “love you too.”

her heart stopped, she thought it might give out.

“you’re not allowed to say that when you’re asleep..” she playfully scolds, her smile contradicting her words.

⋆˙⟡

the warm mugs helped shield you two from the cold, your eyes on the view but your mind stuck on the woman next to you. “you’ve been acting weird lately.”

“how?”

“softer..”

daniela bit her bottom lip, blurting out the three words that could ruin everything. “i love you.”

you turn to face her, a smirk displaying across your lips. “yea?”

“yea.”

“took you long enough.” you whisper, before placing a small kiss onto her lips.

it was soft and unpredictable— absolutely perfect in every way.

⋆˙⟡

weeks turned into months, you and daniela in the happiest relationship possible. waking up with her in the mornings felt like a ritual, you wore her hoodie and she made coffee.

daniela handed the coffee with a kiss which you happily returned. “you taste better than the coffee.”

“good.”

“you know you’re mine forever right? i’m never letting you go.”

you smile at her words, “sounds perfect.”

and with that, daniela realized she’d never have to chase happiness ever again.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

The first time you slept with Daniela, it was a mistake. A half-remembered party, too many people, her laugh in your ear, and hands that didn’t hesitate. You weren’t friends. Barely acquaintances. Just two girls in the same scene who thought it’d be a one-time thing. No strings.

That was months ago.

Now, every time she had a day off—she ended up at your place. No flowers. No real conversation. Just that damn car in your complex again, and Daniela stepping through your door like it was hers.

And stupidly, you let her.

You told yourself you could handle it. That it was just physical. That she wasn’t your type anyway. You’d never done the friends-with-benefits thing before. Never slept with someone without catching real feelings. But she was so magnetic. So casual about it all. You told yourself you could be, too.

But you were already falling.

—

She was on your couch again, legs stretched out, hair still wet from the shower she took in your bathroom. You stood across the room, arms crossed, trying to act like you weren’t unraveling.

“You’re here early,” you said.

She didn’t look up from her phone. “Wrapped early.”

“That’s rare.”

A shrug. No smile. No acknowledgement of how long it had been. Like the last time she left without a word hadn’t crushed you. Like nothing was out of the ordinary.

You sat on the far edge of the couch. Careful. Distant.

She glanced at you, eyes trailing your frame. “You’ve been thinking about me.”

You stiffened. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Her smirk grew. “You only clean when you’re spiraling.”

“Maybe I just like clean counters.”

“Mhm.”

God, she was impossible. Always so smug. Always assuming she still had you wrapped around her finger.

You pulled your knees up, curling into yourself. “You could at least pretend to care.”

That gave her pause. She turned to look at you more fully, something quieter crossing her face. “You know I do.”

“Do you?”

Silence. Weighted.

Then she moved. Fluid. Sure of herself. Her hand found your thigh, warm and grounding.

“Y/N,” she said, softer, “I’m not good at this.”

“At what?”

She didn’t answer.

You didn’t press. But something inside you cracked, anyway.

You sat there—close, not quite touching, both pretending the tension wasn’t devouring you alive. Her hand brushed your leg again. Your breath caught.

You hated that she could still do this to you.

You weren’t dating. Weren’t even something as simple as lovers. You didn’t know what you were.

But when she looked at you like that, you let her stay. You always did.

Even though you knew she wouldn’t tomorrow.

Even though you knew she never would.

—

Days passed. No messages. No updates.

But your feed knew everything.

Photos from her Lollapalooza weekend hit like gut punches—Daniela backstage with some radio host, laughing like they were best friends. Then with fans, signing autographs, perfect smile in full display. And the worst of them: a blurry party photo. Daniela, drink in hand, body angled toward a woman who stood just a little too close. Hands grazing. Flirting too obvious to ignore.

Like you were nothing. Like she hadn’t been in your bed days before.

You told yourself not to care. You tried to pretend it was fine. That this was what you signed up for.

But the ache stayed.

It stayed when you passed the couch and remembered the sound of her voice. When you opened the fridge and saw the grape bag she left half-finished. When you caught yourself checking your phone like she’d suddenly start caring again.

It stayed because you still wanted her.

Even if wanting her meant breaking your own heart over and over again.

Even if she never looked back.

—

You shouldn’t be this restless.

Not at 1:32 a.m. Not after a long, exhausting day where your body should’ve collapsed into sleep the second your head hit the pillow. But no. Your skin is buzzing like an open wire, heat pooling low in your belly, mind racing with thoughts you shouldn’t entertain—thoughts you’ve tried and failed to keep at bay. The apartment is quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of the streetlights bleeding through the windows. Your blanket is too warm. Your body, too aware.

And then your phone lights up.

dani (DO NOT FALL FOR HER FML): Hey

You don’t reply. Not immediately.

Because she knows you’re awake. She always knows.

The air suddenly feels heavier. The silence, louder. You shift under the blanket, the cotton of your sleep shirt clinging slightly to the light sweat on your skin. The fabric rides up your thighs when you move, cool air kissing the bare skin between them. Your heart thuds once, twice—then settles into an anxious rhythm.

She hasn’t been here in weeks. Her tour schedule’s been brutal—different time zones, back-to-back performances, nonstop fan engagements. You’ve seen the clips. Watched them in the dark like some kind of masochist. Replayed every fancam like it mattered, like it meant something to see her smiling somewhere that wasn’t here.

Still, distance hasn’t dulled anything.

If anything, it’s made it worse.

You think about her constantly. In the quiet moments. In the chaos. When your hand slips under the sheets late at night, chasing a high that never hits quite the same without her voice in your ear. Tonight was no different. Your thighs are still sticky with the evidence, your body still tingling from the release you gave yourself an hour ago. But it didn’t help.

Because it wasn’t her.

The cherry red Mustang outside your building was idling like it had nowhere else to be, windows tinted dark, engine humming with that lazy, arrogant purr you could recognize from three blocks away. No one else drove that obnoxiously flashy car like it wasn’t practically screaming for attention.

Your screen buzzes again.

dani (DO NOT FALL FOR HER FML): Let me in.

Your eyes widen. A breath catches in your throat.

And then—there it is. The faint roar of an engine outside your building. You know that sound. The Mustang.

She didn’t even wait for an answer.

You scramble up from the couch, smoothing your shirt, dragging fingers through your hair that’s probably a mess. You barely make it to the door before she knocks, just once.

And when you open it, she’s there.

Leaning against the frame like she’s got all the time in the world, a red Mustang behind her still cooling down. Her camo puffer jacket is unzipped, revealing a fitted black croptop underneath. Red pants hug her hips, paired with that same camo “G” cap she’s been photographed in. Her dark curls are loose and glossy, framing her face like she just walked off a stage.

She’s impossibly good-looking. And she knows it.

She tilts her head slightly. “You gonna let me in, or…”

You arch a brow, heart thudding. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

Daniela’s smirk is lazy. “Didn’t know I needed an invite.”

You hesitate a second longer than necessary before stepping aside. The scent of her shampoo hits first—clean and sharp. Then comes the weight of her presence, flooding your small apartment like it belongs to her.

She tosses her cap onto the entryway table, kicks off her sneakers, and shrugs out of the jacket like she’s done it a dozen times before. Like this is normal. Like she didn’t just crash back into your orbit unannounced.

“You look flushed,” she says casually, eyes raking over your bare thighs. “Rough night?”

Your jaw tightens. You say nothing.

Her gaze drifts toward your open window. “Didn’t bother closing the curtains?”

“Didn’t see your message .”

Daniela hums, low and amused. “That so?”

She takes a step closer. Then another. Her body language is relaxed, but her eyes are anything but. They flicker across your face, down your neck, over the rise and fall of your chest under your thin shirt. You cross your arms.

“Did you drive all the way here just to make observations?”

“No,” she says simply. Her fingers brush your hip like it’s accidental. It’s not.

You know what this is. What it always is.

Except this time, she doesn’t close the distance completely. Not yet. She leans in, just enough to make your breath catch.

“You touched yourself tonight.”

Your lungs stutter around the air you try to take in. Her voice is low—dangerous and steady.

You try to move. Maybe to deny it. Maybe to push her away. But your feet stay rooted, body betraying you like it always does when she’s this close.

Her fingers trace the hem of your shirt. “Were you thinking about me when you came?”

Silence stretches between you, taut and charged.

You don’t answer.

Yet.

But she’ll get it out of you.

She always does.

And God, part of you wants her to.

Daniela walks you backwards until your legs brush the edge of the couch. Her grip is firm, her presence even firmer. She doesn’t push you down—no, she likes watching you obey without needing to be told twice. Her hands find your hips, fingers slipping just under the hem of your shorts like she’s done it a hundred times before. Like your body is hers by default.

“Sit,” she says, voice low, eyes unreadable.

You sink into the couch, heat blooming low in your stomach.

Daniela doesn’t join you yet. She just stands there, hovering, letting silence stretch long and slow. The soft lamp light halos around her—should’ve looked out of place in your dim apartment. But somehow, she fits. Too well.

“Why didn’t you text me back?” she asks, hands slipping into her pockets, jaw clenched just enough to show it’s not casual.

You look up at her, lips parting. “Because I didn’t want to seem desperate.”

Her laugh is quiet. Not mocking. Just knowing.

“You came thinking about me, didn’t you?”

You hesitate. Not because it isn’t true—because it’s too true.

Daniela steps forward. Drops to her knees between your legs, like the space there belongs to her. One hand settles on your bare thigh, thumb brushing up and down.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, head tilting slightly. “What were you thinking about? When you touched yourself? What did you picture?”

Your mouth goes dry. Your pulse stutters.

“Was it my hands?” Her fingers graze your skin, trailing upward. “My mouth?”

You suck in a breath. She’s not guessing—she’s confirming.

“You needed me that bad, huh?” she whispers, her lips so close to your thigh you feel her exhale before it lands.

Still, you say nothing.

“Say it,” she breathes. “Say you thought about me.”

You give in. “I thought about you.”

Her smile is slow. “Good girl.”

The praise makes your body jolt, a soft tremor running through your spine. Your head tips back as your thighs part, needy. She sees it, rewards it. Her hands slip under your shorts, thumbs dragging fabric down your legs like it offends her.

When Daniela sees you—really sees you—she swears under her breath. Her palms roam your thighs, your hips, slow and reverent. You shiver.

“This was all for me?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“Let me see.”

You lift your shirt, exposing your chest to her. Daniela leans in, mouth pressing hot kisses down your torso. Each one leaves a searing echo behind.

Her voice is low, almost a growl. “You’re already soaked.”

You gasp. “I thought you were busy.”

“I was,” she says, voice dipping. “Didn’t mean I didn’t think about this. About you.”

Her lips trail lower. She kisses your inner thigh, again and again, teasing you open with nothing but her breath. You twitch beneath her.

“Stay still.”

And then she licks you.

Her fingers slide into you without warning—deep, slow, filling you until your head tips back against the couch. The stretch is perfect, the drag of her knuckles deliberate, curling just right until your mouth drops open on a sharp inhale.

“Say you’re mine,” she says, voice low and patient. Her thumb brushes against your clit in an unhurried circle that makes your thighs twitch. “Say you’re my toy.”

You shake your head, breathless—not because you don’t want to, but because the words feel like surrender, and you’re clinging to the last scraps of control.

Her fingers thrust again, harder this time, and her mouth ghosts over you. “You’re my toy,” she repeats, slower, like she’s branding it into you. “All you’re good for is this.”

The sound you make is embarrassing—high, needy.

“Say it,” she murmurs, curling her fingers again.

“I’m—” you gasp, hips twitching, “I’m your toy.”

She hums in approval, but doesn’t let up. “My useless toy. That’s all you are, isn’t it?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, the humiliation and heat tangling until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

“Yes—” the word tears out of you, wrecked. “I’m your useless toy.”

Her smirk deepens against your skin. “That’s right. Just something for me to use whenever I want.”

The way she says it makes you clench around her fingers, and she feels it. Her pace picks up just enough to make you gasp, but she keeps you right there—balanced on the knife’s edge, unable to tip over.

Her fingers never falter, sliding in and out with that maddeningly perfect rhythm—deep, curling just enough to make your hips twitch each time. Her mouth finds you again, tongue tracing tight circles that make your thighs tense.

“You feel that?” she murmurs against you, her breath warm and heavy. “That’s what a good little toy does. Just lies there and takes it.”

The words make your stomach flip, shame and desire twisting together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. You want to move, to chase the friction you need, but her grip is unyielding.

Your breathing gets faster, the telltale heat pooling low in your belly. She feels it immediately—the way your walls clench around her fingers, the tiny gasp you can’t swallow.

“Mhm, there it is,” she says softly, almost like she’s praising you. “My useless little thing’s getting close.”

“Please,” you gasp, not even sure what you’re asking for anymore.

“Please what? Please make you come? Please use you until you can’t think straight?” Her voice is velvet and venom at once, coaxing and cruel.

“Yes—please—”

Daniela’s mouth leaves you for just a second, long enough for her to look up, her lips glistening. “You don’t get to beg like that unless you remember what you are to me.”

“I’m your toy,” you whisper, desperate.

Her brow arches. “Not good enough.”

You swallow hard, shame bubbling in your chest, but the words come out anyway. “I’m your useless toy.”

The smirk she gives you is pure hunger. “That’s right.”

Her tongue is back on you in an instant, this time harder, faster—working in perfect sync with the steady thrust of her fingers. The change in pace is brutal; it hits you like a wave, and suddenly you’re right back at the edge, teetering.

Your thighs clamp around her shoulders, but she forces them apart again, holding you wide open as she pushes you further. “Don’t hold back now,” she says between licks. “Come for me.”

It’s all you need. The coil inside you snaps, and the release rips through you—hot, blinding, unstoppable. You cry out her name, your body jerking under her hands, legs trembling so hard you think they might give out if she weren’t holding you.

But she doesn’t stop.

Her fingers keep moving, her mouth still on you, dragging every last aftershock out until you’re gasping, raw, twitching under the overstimulation.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, finally easing her pace but not pulling away entirely. “Did so well for me.”

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, still feeling the faint, steady press of her mouth like she’s not quite ready to let you go. You’re breathless—raw, trembling—but she’s not finished. She wants more.

Because now it’s not just lust humming between you. It’s something heavier, sharper.

Somewhere in the background, your playlist shifts. Jhené Aiko’s voice drapes over the room like smoke—“I touch myself just thinkin’ about you and what that mouth do, yeah.”

Daniela doesn’t comment. She doesn’t have to. Her grip on your thigh tightens, her mouth lingers against you, and you feel the faintest smile against your skin.

She heard it.

And she knows exactly who it’s about.

Daniela barely gave you a second to breathe.

Your back hit the wall just outside the bedroom, her mouth on yours, hands roaming like she couldn’t decide what to touch first. Her lips were soft but urgent, pulling sighs from your chest as she pressed against you. Every inch of her body screamed tension and want—like the weeks apart had frayed her nerves down to this very second.

You were tugging at her shirt before your mind caught up, desperate to feel skin, not fabric. She chuckled into your mouth, low and breathless, letting you pull it over her head. Her curls, tumbled out around her face—messy, untamed, perfect.

“Eager?” she teased, voice husky.

You didn’t dignify it with a reply. You shoved her lightly toward the bed, where she landed with a huff, propping herself up on her elbows. The moonlight from the window painted silver along her cheekbones, catching in her eyes as she looked up at you like she didn’t want to blink.

“You always look at me like that,” you whispered, crawling over her.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re trying not to fall in love with me.”

Her expression faltered. Just for a second. Just long enough to twist something in your chest.

She didn’t reply.

You kissed her again, slower this time, tasting the silence she left behind. Your hands slid down from her waist to the band of her sweats, fingers hooking inside. She arched an eyebrow at you, but didn’t stop you when you tugged—slowly peeling them down over her hips. The soft fabric slid easily along her legs until you tossed them aside, leaving her in nothing but thin shorts underneath.

Her hands fell to your waist as you straddled her hips, gripping just hard enough to bruise. You rolled your hips forward, and the friction made your breath catch. You slid further down, until your bare core was pressing against the firm muscle of her thigh.

Warm. Solid. The perfect pressure.

Your breath hitched as you ground down again, her grip tightening on your waist like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hold you still or push you harder.

Her lips found your neck, warm and insistent. “Trying to take control now?” she murmured, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.

“Is that a problem?” you shot back, though your voice wasn’t as steady as you’d hoped.

Daniela smirked, letting you set the pace—for now. She let you grind against her thigh, the friction deliciously sharp, stealing your breath in ragged bursts. Every shift of your hips made the muscle beneath you flex, dragging another wave of heat through your body.

Her hands didn’t stay idle. They roamed—sliding up your sides, fingertips skimming your ribs, palms slipping under your shirt until her warm skin pressed to yours. She touched you like she was learning you all over again, committing each curve and shiver to memory.

A gasp tore from you when she deliberately flexed her thigh under you, pressing up into your slick heat. “You’re soaked,” she murmured against your ear, voice low and reverent.

You could only nod, burying your face in her shoulder, your moans muffled as you chased that high.

But Daniela wasn’t about to let you take it so easily.

Her grip shifted—quick, decisive—and in one practiced motion she flipped you onto your back. The mattress dipped under your weight, and before you could catch your breath, her hands had pinned your wrists above your head. She slid her thigh between yours again, but this time she held you there, immovable, her weight pressing down in a way that made escape impossible.

“Did you really think,” she asked slowly, her voice a dangerous purr, “I’d let you come just like that?”

Your breath stuttered. “No—”

“Good.”

She let go of your wrists, but her eyes didn’t leave yours. Even as her hands drifted down, tracing the inside of your arms, she watched every shift in your expression like she was cataloging it. Her palms smoothed over your stomach, slow enough to make your skin prickle, before sliding down to your thighs. She kissed her way after them—soft, deliberate presses of her mouth like she was worshipping you inch by inch, making you feel seen, claimed, treasured.

By the time her lips reached the tops of your thighs, your breathing was uneven. Then she dipped lower.

Her mouth found your center with an ease that made you gasp, the first slow, devastating lick pulling a helpless whimper from your throat. The sound made her grin against you, her breath warm and deliberate against your skin.

“You taste even better than I remembered,” she murmured, the words dripping with hunger.

Your fingers twisted in the sheets, hips jerking forward as she buried her face between your legs. Her grip on your thighs was firm, almost possessive, keeping you spread open for her as her thumbs traced idle patterns along your skin. Her tongue moved in patient, calculated strokes—slow circles, teasing flicks—giving you just enough to make your breath stutter, but never enough to let you fall. She wasn’t rushing. She wanted to take her time, to pull you apart one shaky exhale at a time until all that was left was her.

When her fingers slid inside you, the stretch was perfect—curling just right, just deep enough to hit that spot that made you cry out without shame.

“Do you do this for anyone else?” she asked suddenly, her tone almost casual, though she didn’t pause her movements for a second.

You blinked, dazed. “What?”

“This,” she clarified, her voice warm but edged with something sharper, more dangerous. Her lips brushed your inner thigh as she spoke. “Touch yourself thinking about someone. Ride their thigh like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.”

The image hit you hard, shame and desire tangling in your chest. Your answer came out on a gasp. “It’s always you.”

Her hands stilled for the briefest moment—just long enough for the air between you to thicken, the tension to sharpen.

Then she moved again, harder this time, her fingers driving deeper, her mouth working in perfect sync. The sudden intensity made your back arch off the bed, your breath catching on a sound that was more cry than moan.

She didn’t speak after that. She didn’t have to. Her hands and mouth said everything—possessive, desperate, reverent. Like she had something to prove. Like she needed to make you remember who you belonged to.

Her fingers found that spot again, and this time, she didn’t hold back. She drove into you, curling and stroking as her mouth latched to your clit. You came with a cry that sounded like her name, every muscle tensed, your body trembling as you came undone beneath her.

She gave you a moment to catch your breath, letting the aftershocks fade just enough for you to stop trembling. Then her hands slid to your hips, dragging your body lower on the bed until she was perfectly aligned with you again. Her fingertips traced along your jaw, light and deliberate, grounding you in the moment.

But she wasn’t finished.

“Say it,” she murmured.

Your lashes fluttered. “Say what?” you asked, voice dazed, still trying to find air.

“That you need me,” she said, her tone low and unwavering. “That no one else gets you like I do.”

Your chest rose and fell, breath catching. “I need you.”

Daniela leaned in, her hand curling around your jaw—not rough, but firm, making sure you couldn’t look away. “Say I’m the only one who makes you feel like this.”

Your throat tightened. “You are. You’re the only one.”

Her eyes darkened. “Say this is ours. That what we have… it’s not something you want with anyone else.”

Your voice cracked under the weight of it. “I only want you.”

Her lips crashed into yours, urgent and unyielding, like she couldn’t stand another second without the taste of you. Her hand slid back between your legs, fingers stroking you in soft, coaxing passes—gentle enough to make your body shiver, steady enough to build that heat all over again.

It didn’t take long. You came again, slower this time, your whole body curling into hers as she held you through it, keeping you close, murmuring things you were too gone to catch.

When your breathing evened out and you finally opened your eyes, she was looking at you differently. It wasn’t just lust in her gaze anymore. It wasn’t even pride.

It was fear. Wonder. And love—love she wasn’t ready to say out loud.

—

Daniela didn’t say a word when she helped you up from the bed. Her touch, still tender, was a stark contrast to the way she’d had you moments ago—shaking, wrecked, clinging to the sound of her voice like it could save you. Your body was sore, humming with aftershocks, and your legs trembled as you padded barefoot to the bathroom. You flipped on the faucet to fill a glass, but the trembling in your hands was too much.

She was behind you in seconds, her arms sliding around your waist, the heat of her body pressing into your back. Her chin rested in the curve of your shoulder, and her voice came soft but steady. “Let me,” she murmured, taking the glass from your hands. She guided it to your lips, watching until you swallowed.

A single kiss brushed your bare shoulder. “You should get some rest,” she whispered, but there was something in her tone—something already pulling away.

You turned in her arms, just enough to see her face. “Are you staying?”

Her gaze darted away. “I can’t. My manager called earlier. They moved the flight. I need to be at the airport by six.”

You didn’t check the clock. You didn’t need to. It didn’t matter if she was telling the truth—the answer still sank like a stone in your chest.

“Oh,” you said, and it came out smaller than you wanted.

Daniela stepped back, her hands falling from you. “I didn’t think it’d get this late. I really shouldn’t have stayed this long.”

You let out a laugh, dry and sharp. “You barely stayed at all.”

She flinched. “Don’t do that.”

You crossed your arms over your bare chest, the sudden chill in the room making your skin prickle. “Do what? Call it what it is?”

“Y/N,” she said quietly, “I didn’t mean for this to turn into a fight.”

You looked at her—really looked. Her hoodie hung half-zipped, her curls slightly tangled from where your hands had been buried in them. Her lips were still swollen, her jaw faintly marked by the kisses you’d left. She looked wrecked—like she’d been ruined by you—and still, she was walking away.

“You came here like you needed me,” you said, your voice rough. “Like it was more than just getting off. You looked at me like you meant it.”

Daniela shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”

“No,” you shot back, sharper now, “it’s exactly that simple. You don’t want to deal with the mess of what this is, so you pretend it doesn’t mean anything.”

She was already reaching for her bag.

You followed her to the door, arms crossed tight over your chest, your jaw locked until it hurt. “Is this the part where you say, ‘I’ll call you,’ and then disappear for another month?”

Daniela didn’t answer. She didn’t have to—her silence was answer enough.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching her slip her shoes on, watching the slow, painful transformation of her turning into a stranger again.

“I think about you more than I should,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “And you’re still leaving.”

She froze, one hand on the door.

“I didn’t ask you to feel the same,” you continued. “But don’t lie and act like you didn’t. Like tonight wasn’t different.”

Her fingers curled tighter around the doorknob. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

That was all she said.

The door clicked shut behind her.

You didn’t cry—not right away.

You stood there in the silence she left behind, the sheets still warm with her imprint, the faint smell of her perfume clinging to the hallway air like a ghost that refused to leave.

You touched the counter, the faucet, the back of the couch where she’d kissed you. Every surface still seemed to hold her in it.

And still, she was gone.

You crawled into bed alone. You didn’t bother changing the sheets. You didn’t even bother closing the curtains.

The city glowed outside your window—blinding, too bright for how hollow you felt.

She hadn’t even looked back.

The days stretched long and thin, sharp at the edges. They didn’t blend into one another; they dragged—jagged, raw—through your chest. It wasn’t a heartbreak you could name yet, not when no one had ever said the word love out loud. But it hollowed you out anyway.

Daniela didn’t text. Not the next morning. Not the next day. Not even a half-hearted apology or a random picture at 3 AM like she used to. Her name stayed pinned to the top of your messages, read receipts off, the conversation untouched since the night she walked out.

She didn’t look back.

And you didn’t chase her.

But you wanted to.

You replayed the night like a curse—the sound of her voice in your hallway, low and distant. The way her fingers curled tighter around your waist when you were still trying to believe she might stay. The taste of her on your lips. The silence after the door shut.

You told yourself to get over it. That she was never yours to begin with. Friends with benefits—that was the rule, the deal. But every time you tried to swallow it down, it caught in your throat like glass.

You started sleeping on the other side of the bed.

Not because you thought she’d show up.

Just because it still smelled like her.

You buried yourself in anything that wasn’t her—cleaned the apartment twice in one day, caught up on work, deleted half your playlist. Tried to convince yourself that if you kept moving, the ache would slow.

It didn’t.

On the seventh day, you opened Instagram and saw her tagged in a fan post—smiling, laughing, caught mid-spin, like she hadn’t ripped you open and left you hollow. You stared too long, thumb hovering over her name, like touching it might make her appear. Like the ghost of her would slip back through your screen and finally explain everything she didn’t say.

But ghosts don’t apologize.

So you muted her stories. Not because you didn’t want to see her. But because you did.

You didn’t tell anyone. You didn’t know how. There was no label for the grief you were feeling. No box to tuck it into. How do you tell someone you’re heartbroken over a girl who never promised you anything, who never even called it love?

You weren’t sure what hurt more: that she left, or that she never gave you the right to be mad about it.

So you bottled it. Shoved it down. Pretended to be fine.

Until Friday night.

The bar was too loud—some rooftop place your coworker had dragged you to. Music pulsed through your ribs, laughter buzzed in your ears, and nothing felt grounded. You had a drink in hand and a smile on your face, the kind you’d perfected lately—the one that didn’t even bother trying to reach your eyes.

You felt her before you saw her.

A shift in the air. That prickle down the back of your neck. And then you turned—

And Daniela was there.

Not across the rooftop. Not hidden in a corner. Right there. Ten feet away, half-shadowed by neon and cigarette smoke. Same curls, same sharp eyes, same leather jacket you’d nearly torn off her two weeks ago. She looked good—obscenely good.

And she was looking at you like she’d seen a ghost she wasn’t sure she had the right to touch.

You didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

She took a step forward.

You turned on your heel and walked away.

You’d made it halfway to the exit when her voice threaded through the noise.

“Y/N.”

You stopped, your jaw locking so hard it hurt. Your hand curled tighter around your empty glass.

She caught up slowly, eyes searching yours like they were trying to find an old map. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Clearly,” you said, and it landed sharp enough to make her wince.

Her lips pressed together. “I… can we talk? Somewhere quieter?”

You let the silence stretch, watching her squirm in it.

“You don’t get to do this,” you said finally, voice calm but cold. “You don’t get to walk out like you did and then act shocked that I’ve moved on.”

Her eyebrows pulled in, her mouth parting. “You moved on?”

You stared at her for a beat. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” she said, too quickly. “It matters.”

You laughed under your breath, no humor in it. “No, Daniela. What matters is you leaving. You walking out without looking back. What matters is you making me believe I was nothing more than—” you shook your head. “Forget it.”

“I didn’t make you believe that,” she shot back, defensive, desperate.

“You didn’t have to make me believe it,” you snapped. “You proved it.”

Her hands twitched like she wanted to reach for you but didn’t trust herself. “I messed up, okay? I was—” She broke off, glancing away before forcing herself to look at you again. “I was scared. I told myself it would be easier to leave than to stay and risk… whatever this was.”

“Easier for who?” you asked. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t for me.”

Her throat bobbed. “I know. And I hate myself for it.”

You folded your arms. “So what now? You want to pick up where we left off? Sneak around again? Pretend it’s casual until it breaks me all over again?”

Her gaze didn’t waver this time. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” she repeated, softer now. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to act like you’re just… someone I can walk away from.”

Your laugh was quiet, bitter. “You’re saying all the right words, Dani, but you already taught me how easy it is for you to walk away.”

“I didn’t walk away because I didn’t care,” she said quickly. “I walked away because I cared too much, and it scared the hell out of me.”

You swallowed hard, hating the way your chest tightened at her words. “You could’ve told me that.”

“I’m telling you now.”

“That’s convenient.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me tonight,” she said, stepping a fraction closer, enough for the smell of her perfume to cut through the rooftop’s stale beer and smoke. “But I need you to know that I didn’t stop thinking about you. Not once. Every night, I’d close my eyes and—” she stopped herself, jaw tightening. “You never left my head.”

You stared at her, your pulse in your throat. “And what am I supposed to do with that? Say thank you? Say it makes everything okay?”

Her voice was almost a whisper. “I’m asking you to believe me. Just this once.”

The hurt was still there, raw and waiting. But so was she. And you weren’t sure yet which one would win.

Daniela didn’t try to follow you after you walked away from the rooftop. She stood there, half-hidden in the neon haze, looking like she wanted to — looking like she was holding herself back on purpose.

It should’ve felt like a victory. It didn’t.

You didn’t see her for another month. Not in person, anyway. But she was everywhere else.

Clips on TikTok. Interviews. Tour vlogs. She smiled the same way she always had — on cue, just wide enough for the cameras — but even through a phone screen, you could see it. That small delay before the laugh. The way her eyes didn’t track with her mouth. The distracted glances toward the floor when someone else was speaking.

“idk she just seems off lately?” “she looks tired fr.” “this is the least happy i’ve seen her in a vlog in YEARS.”

You didn’t like knowing it, but you didn’t like seeing it either.

Meanwhile, you changed.

You didn’t realize how much until people started pointing it out — your coworkers, your friends, even your own reflection. The circles under your eyes were gone. You were showing up early to work, saying yes to plans again. You laughed without having to think about it first.

And maybe it wasn’t because you were over her, but because you’d stopped waiting for her.

It wasn’t until a Tuesday evening, stepping out of work, that you saw her again.

The red Mustang was impossible to miss — parked at the curb in front of the building, engine idling low, paint catching the last bits of daylight. Your chest went tight the second you recognized it. Same car you’d watched pull into your apartment lot more times than you could count. Same one you’d once thought of as hers in the same way you thought of her hands, her mouth, her voice — yours, until they weren’t.

She was leaning against the driver’s side door, hair falling into her face, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. She looked up as soon as you stepped outside, straightening, like she’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice carrying easily over the hum of the street.

You slowed your pace but didn’t stop until you were a few feet away. “Dani.”

Her eyes swept over you — the way your hair fell differently now, the new clothes, the faint lip gloss that caught in the fading light. She smiled, but it didn’t reach.

“You look… good,” she said, like it cost her to admit it.

“You don’t,” you replied without heat, just honesty.

She flinched, like you’d pressed a bruise. “I know. The fans know too. They… they keep asking what’s wrong.”

“That’s not really my problem anymore, is it?”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead her voice cracked. “It’s not the same without you.”

You didn’t answer right away. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you walk away from people, Dani. They keep going without you.”

Her jaw tightened, but her eyes were glassy. “And you’re happier now.”

You didn’t correct her. Because you were.

You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder and angled toward your car parked a few spaces down. She moved quickly, stepping away from her Mustang to plant herself between you and the driver’s side door.

“Please,” she said, her voice low but urgent, “just talk to me. Five minutes.”

“About what?” you asked. “So you can explain why you disappeared? Or maybe so you can tell me you’ve been miserable and I’m supposed to… what? Feel bad?”

“I didn’t come here to make you feel bad,” she said, shaking her head. “I came because I couldn’t keep pretending I’m fine. I’m not. And it’s not because of work, or the schedule, or the travel—it’s because of you.”

Your laugh was short and disbelieving. “You don’t get to put that on me.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I know I don’t. But I can’t stand watching you look better without me while I—” Her voice caught, breaking just enough to draw the attention of someone walking past the lot.

You kept your gaze steady. “That’s not my fault, Dani. You made your choice. Now you live with it.”

Her fingers flexed at her sides, like she was resisting the urge to reach for you. “I’m already living with it,” she said quietly. “Every day.”

You unlocked your car and pulled the door open, stepping around her. She didn’t try to stop you this time.

Not physically, anyway.

You could still feel her eyes on you through the windshield as you started the engine and pulled away.

the village you basically grew up with now gradually changed into one of the worst nightmare people had ever conceived. it all started with a drunk guy getting murdered near the famous bar in the village—and that's enough to shock the whole villagers—to guys who had done a bad deed in their life got murdered every week.

and yet, the serial killer hasn't been caught by the police officers. it's hardly foreseeable for a serial killer to be good at shrouding clues with their strategic thinking to protect their identity but didn't even bother leaving the lifeless bodies exposed to the public to show the result of their wrongdoing.

after all, psychopaths have a lack of empathy. even worse if they can mimic empathy to fool people. it's one of their charms when it comes down to it.

and that's the reason why the victims could be easily lured by her gesture that was contrived to deceive.

daniela avanzini.

a face of an angel, with devilish intent. she was never a saint.

but she knows how to mimic a saint effortlessly to fool the sinners masquerading as saints. daniela would use her usual trick—with those bewitching eyes and false flattery of her silvered tongue, just the way they like it—before killing them in ways whatever she wants.

the sound of their begging was her favorite part of the killings. daniela relished their desperation, so feral and frantic it reminded her of rabid animals. and she finds it ridiculous for the sinners crying for mercy, blind to the fact they’ve never granted it to begin with.

however, it's even hilarious for stained condemning the stained. as it is often said, a sinner’s worst enemy is a sinner of a different kind. yet daniela would rather silence their breaths than hear them linger. because to her, the living were nothing but mistakes better erased—and nothing is wrong if it serves her satisfaction.

the same goes for anything she desires. she ensures she gets whatever she sets her mind on. for example; you. jeung y/n.

for the first time she lands her gaze on you when you enter her shop, her heart that no longer beats for anything but indulgence begins to beat for another reason.

desire.

for daniela, desire is the same as having.and she would do whatever it takes to get you all by herself.

“unnie, we should ask father to leave this village,” yoonchae began to speak, breaking the silence between the two of you in the small kitchen. “i’m worried for his safety.” she added, concern clear in her tone.

“but you know father won't leave this village just like that,” you replied to your younger sister, your eyebrows knitted together in concern. “and yes i’m worried for his safety too. but he's a police officer, yoonchae. we can't let him abandon his job like it's nothing. it's not just us that he has to protect."

yoonchae could only rub her temples with a small groan, overwhelmed by the feeling like the killer breathing down her neck when the murder kept increasing day by day and the police couldn't do anything about it.

a number of villagers had already abandoned their homes, terrified of being the next victim. those who stayed pressured the authorities to protect the village further, to prevent any more deaths.

silence merely lingered as they sat across from each other, letting the heavy rain speak in their stead. “do you ever think that we could be their next victim?” yoonchae asked, looking up at you now.

“well, if you asked me, i don't think so,” you replied, rubbing your chin to think further. “because, if you notice, the serial killer is only targeting guys and not women,” you added, now sitting down across yoonchae. “i consider women to be safe for now. but i’m still worried for our father because he's a guy.”

just before yoonchae could speak more, multiple soft knocks interrupted their conversation that made both of you turn your head.

“i’ll get it!” yoonchae exclaimed, rising from the chair as she jogs to the door.

“during heavy rain? could it be father? why is he coming earlier than most days?” you whispered to yourself, getting up from your chair to heading towards the door too. but then, you stopped yoonchae from turning the lock. “be careful.”

“right, okay.” yoonchae opened the door with a slow creak and peeked through the narrow gap, only to find daniela, a woman whose beauty didn’t fit the blood and steel of a butcher’s life, she thought to herself.

“meat delivery from avanzini’s butchery to mr. jeung’s house~” daniela sang her words in a lilting cadence, the tradition she used to seem polite in front of people although the heavy rain is pissing her off.

“oh, daniela!” you said with a smile as your eyes lit up when your eyes met hers. “you should come in! it's dangerous to be out there in this weather.” you offered, taking the meat from daniela as you usher her inside while yoonchae closed the door.

truth to be told, you had been captivated by her for the moment you entered her butchery shop. you recalled how gentle the curve of her smile rising to greet you, and much to your surprise, you two got close—like it's still normal to find peace—in the midst of chaos in the village.

“thank you for the meat, unnie!” yoonchae exclaimed eagerly, watching you put the meat inside the fridge.

“your welcome, yoonchae. your father ordered it the morning before he gets to work,” daniela casually remarked and sat on the couch. “oh ya where is mr. jeung? still working?”

“probably,” yoonchae grunted, now flopping onto the couch with a pout. “i hope he's doing fine, i don't want him to be the next victim.”

“hm… anyone could be the killer’s next victim,” daniela said without a care, her eyes unreadable as she watches you serve hot chocolate milk in each glass on the coffee table. “perhaps even him.”

silence.

you and yoonchae turned your heads to her in unison, disbelief etched across your faces as though her words demanded to be heard twice. however, it could be possible and daniela is not wrong. none of you could deny the truth.

the corner of daniela’s lips twitch when the silence stretches further, hinting her to say something to break the silence. “okay, that came off too harsh. but isn’t it true? the killer doesn’t care who it is.”

“yeah... you're right,” you muttered before sipping your glass of hot chocolate milk, as if doing so could wash away the uncomfortable feeling. “unless it comes to women.”

“yeah actually i wonder what makes the serial killer target on men,” yoonchae looks at you, then daniela, searching for an answer. “there must be a reason…” she added, leaning back to the cozy sofa.

“i thought you knew the reason since your father handled the case?” daniela questioned. “oh yeah did the police find a clue?”

“no… the killer is too good at hiding their identity,” you sighed softly. “i feel bad for my father and his co-workers, they tried so hard to find a clue but the villagers kept pressuring them,” you continue with a low grunt, sipping the hot chocolate to calm down. “those men should've helped the police to find a clue instead of barking like a dog.”

“well, only those who barks the most must've done something bad in their past that they are so afraid of being the next victim,” daniela said casually, finishing the hot chocolate milk. “hm, sweet. i love your hot chocolate, y/n.”

while you were busy flustering over daniela’s compliment, yoonchae furrowed her eyebrows and noticed something odd about daniela for tonight. she convinced herself she's just paranoid, but when daniela mentioned something bad in the past for those men, chill ran down her spine instantly.

how would she know?

“yoonchae,” your voice pulled her back to her senses as she blinked two times before realizing she's in the same room as someone who gave her creeps.

yeah, now daniela creeps her out.

“you look tired, yoon. you should go to sleep.” you added, pinching her cheek softly.

“but what about you?” yoonchae asked, tilting her head aside.

“i will be sleeping later,” you replied with a smile. “i want to talk more with daniela.”

as much as yoonchae wants to voice out her concern, she doesn't want to seem obvious. with that, she decided to keep it to herself for now.

“goodnight, unnie.” yoonchae kisses your cheek and looks at daniela, giving her a small wave before heading off to her shared bedroom.

now that you were left alone with daniela on the small couch, you brace yourself to not embarrass yourself in front of the girl you had a crush on. silence enveloped between you and daniela as you don't know what to talk about. your eyes stayed on the empty glass on the coffee table.

then, daniela slid smoothly close to you until your shoulders brushed against each other, her right arm resting on your back as if she knew her touch could make you nervous.

“so when are you going to sleep, y/n?” she asks casually, her eyes trailing over your features while her warm breath hits your skin. “it's late.”

“i um… want to talk to you more,” you reasoned, eyes darting everywhere around the room but daniela. “it's dangerous to go back to your place at this hour, so it'll be good if you stay in my house until the rain stops.”

“cute, just say you miss me, y/n,” daniela teased, the corner of her lips curling up into a knowing smirk, loving every second of how easy your body language was for her to read like a damn open book. “it's been awhile since we hung out. i miss you, you know…”

“i miss you too, but work keep you busy and i don't want to disturb you,” you state, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly. “you work until late night, and im afraid you bumped into the killer. who knows if the killer changed plans. they're sick in the head,” you pout, finally looking up to look into daniela's sharp eyes. “i don't want to lose you.”daniela's sharp eyes softened, her hands moved to cup your cheeks. “don't worry, they won't kill any women they see,” she muttered without a care, but seeing those big clueless eyes, she continues. “because they only target on men, don't they?”

you nodded your head wordlessly, somehow lost in her gaze that you can't even focus on anything else at that moment.

how could you not? when she looks so beautiful under the incandescent lights. however, you would never know the danger outside that keeps you aware of everything around you that was never there, but rather in front of you, a devil dressing as a pretty butcher by hiding her dirty little secret behind her charms.

“would you mind if i kiss your lips to stop my mind from wondering what it tastes like?” daniela asked you like she's asking where the toilet is. and that makes you jolted awake from your thoughts.

your eyes widened as your cheeks flushed red, you weren't expecting to hear something like that from daniela. especially when you just met not long more than a month. “kiss my lips…?”

“mhm, i want to claim your lips for mine to kiss,” daniela replied with her voice low and seductive, leaning closer towards you to trap you deeper into her dangerous gaze. “...you’re mine, y/n.”

without wasting time, daniela closed the distance between you and her, stealing away your breath as her lips crashed against yours deeper, as if not wanting you to break the kiss.

your hands were awkwardly above daniela’s hips when her hands gently guide yours to rest on her shoulders, while hers trail down your body to stop and stay on your hips. the kiss was great for a first kiss. your first kiss. and she seems experienced by the way she leads. you wouldn't mind. your crush is kissing you. and you couldn't think of anything but her lips on yours.

then, you break the kiss, your hands still on her shoulders as you're trying to catch your breath. the sight of you out of breath makes daniela licks her lips. regardless of how much she wants to kiss you again, daniela has to hold back for now. she can't afford to lose control.

not when someone's watching.

“i’m heading back to close my shop,” daniela said as she stood up from the couch, smoothing her shirt while looking at the top of the stairs where yoonchae is peeking. “you shouldn't be sneaking up like that, yoonchae,” she added before pinching your right cheek casually. “do it better next time.”

“i’m sorry…” yoonchae whispered an apology as she stood up. you could only hide your flushed face with a pillow, not wanting anyone to see how flustered you were when you realized your very own sister caught you kissing with daniela.

“daniela…” you called her name softly, though muffled by the pillow. you open your one eye and look at daniela with a shy expression. “be careful.”

“i will be, don't worry,” daniela answered as she walked close to the door but stopped to glance at you again. “love you, y/n.” she winks and walks out of the door, leaving you all flustered.

once the door clicked shut, the silence lingered in the living room for one minute before yoonchae spoke up.

“so care to explain since when you're dating daniela unnie?”

but you were so flustered that you can't even mutter an explanation for yoonchae. you could only bury your face deeper in the pillow while squealing.

yoonchae only shakes her head. she wants to tell you about her bad feelings about daniela, but now that she found out you were with daniela, she can't make herself look like she's trying to ruin your relationship.

with a sigh, she fetch her rain jacket and open the door, the heavy rain show no sign of stopping at any time. “unnie, i’m going out to meet father at the police station,” yoonchae tell you while wearing her rain jacket. “i’ll be back later.”

“but it's dangerous, yoonchae…” the concern in your voice stopped her from taking another step outside. “the heavy rain isn't stopping, why don't you just wait for our father like we always do?” you questioned, tilting your head aside.

yoonchae didn't reply right away. instead, she looks at you. “don't worry, the killer only targets men, don't they?” she gives you a reassuring smile and closes the door shut as her legs lead her to the police station.

“still… be careful, yoonchae…”

elsewhere, daniela closed her shop like usual, it had become her second nature by how often she has done it. however, her mind couldn't stop playing over the moment you and yoonchae kept worrying about your father with filial affection.

it pissed her off. so fucking much.

for daniela, your father is just as equal as the men she murdered. pretending to be a saint, while their past explains that they are just stained saints. in her mind, if those are done, then nothing could erase the bad deed.

by nothing daniela won't even spare anything to let your father walk alive for tonight. she needs to kill him. blood for blood.

daniela wears a black coat after taking off her rain coat—making it easier for her to blend in the shadows—and tossing it somewhere. without a sound, she stealthily slipped into the alley your father was known to take, her hand tightening around the kitchen knife with the firm intention to murder him.

at the exact time the clock struck twelve, daniela caught a glimpse of the shadow of a man she had claimed as her prey moved down the alley alone. his body slouched as he plodded down the alley with an umbrella in his grip, each footstep echoing his weariness of the day.

a smirk etched into daniela's lips as she follows him from behind, who's completely unaware of the danger lurking behind him.

“die.” daniela whispered under her breath—though drowned out by the heavy rain—as she swung the kitchen knife precisely onto his back.

he crumpled to his knees with a yelp instantly, the umbrella he's holding now on the dirty wet ground, pain wracking his body as his wide, frantic eyes searched the shadows to find the threat ahead.

“who the hell—” he choked out, struggling for air as he scrambled upright. unfortunately, he received another strike under his ribs from behind that put him completely under a vulnerable position. the rain washed over him, mingling with his blood as it seeped into the puddles.

daniela's wicked grin stretched wider as she moved closer, slipping the gun off his belt out of his reach. “pathetic.” she taunted, stepping over his wound while ignoring his cry of pain.

“l-let me go…” he gasped. the heavy rain made it hard for him to call out for help. for now, he had to endure the pain and fight back the killer. “my daughters are waiting for me–”

he choked on his own cries as daniela stepped harder into his wound. “woah, you're a devoted father now, aren't you? strange… where is the same devotion when a little girl you abandoned for the price of a bribe back then?”

his eyes widened, the pain suddenly clouded by adrenaline. his heart beats twice faster than before as he recalled the time he let his greed take over him for a bribery. “i’m sorry... i’m wrong… spare my life, please…”

“as always, stupid people will admit their wrongdoing after getting called out,” daniela said as she rolled her eyes. nothing's new when she kills men. but their writhing pain makes her keep going. “and what's the point of apologizing to me? go crawl to that little girl's grave and apologize properly to her.” she said as she kicked his body like he's nothing but a piece of trash.

“y/n… yoonchae…” he mutters his daughters’ name under his breath as he tries to crawl away from daniela weakly. “y-you sick psycho… you're not as good as you think for killing people you think are bad!” he yells through the heavy downpour as he's struggling to breath due to the wound under his ribs. “kill yourself because you're just as bad as people you killed!”

then, he forced himself onto his back despite the pain as he writhed. when daniela kicked his face, he immediately caught her foot and pulled her down to the ground.

“fuck!” daniela grunted as he staggered on his knees to choke her. “bold move, old man.” she huffed out a small laugh while he tightened his grips around daniela’s neck. her hood now slipped down revealing her face under the moonlight.

“d-daniela?” he muttered, disbelief written clearly on his face as his grips loosen up. he couldn't bother to wipe the blood on his nose. “w-what.. w-why did you…”

“your daughters are waiting at home,” she smirks, still managing to overpower the man with just her words. “too bad their father is going to abandon them tonight,” she added before her smirk went off as she fetched the kitchen knife and immediately sliced his neck, blood splattering out like fireworks. “like how he used to abandoned that little girl.”

he coughs out blood and pressed his neck, as if the efforts itself can stop the blood from flowing out. unfortunately, there's nothing he can do about it. he has to wait for death to get him. and that's why daniela is standing in front of him with a triumphed grin.

“die, old man,” she sneers, watching his lifeless body laid unmoving on the wet ground while his blood bled into the torrents, vanishing in the flood of rain. “hope you find her and apologize properly.”

"father!”

yoonchae’s piercing scream rang out the empty alley, cutting through the heavy rain. she was standing at the end of the alley, her eyes wide with fear, unsure if she should move forward.

without further ado, daniela quickly lifted down her hood to hide her face and fled away from the scene before yoonchae could chase her.

that was close. daniela thought.

but well, the job is done and she's satisfied with her wrongdoing. that's what matters to her.

“no, no, no…” yoonchae mewl softly under her breath as she cradled her father in her arms. “wake up… please…”but the body remains stilled despite the pleas.

suddenly, yoonchae notices a glint in the puddle. at first she thinks it’s just a glass or a coin left on the ground, but slowly, she picks it up and scrutinizes the earring, her brow furrowed when she recognizes daniela had the same one.

“what… why would her earring be here..?”

a week passed, the situation became increasingly chaotic as many residents had left the village out of fear—where they thought it was better to leave than to rely on the hopeless authorities—until the village seemed abandoned.

and somehow, the killings dwindled too. as if the killer got bored and decided to stop. the case was left unsolved and those men who were murdered never got justice.

nor did they deserve any.

“make sure to get home safe after you visit his grave, unnie,” yoonchae murmured in concern as she hugged you tight. “i’ll stay and pack what's left in here.”

“i will,” you replied back with a small smile after pulling away from the hug. “don't worry, yoonchae. i won't leave you alone. i'm still here.” you pointed your index finger above her chest. “you too, be careful, okay? we will leave this village tonight.”

yoonchae wordlessly nodded her head, watching you leave the house until your figure disappeared from her sight. then, she let out a quiet sigh before returning to pack some food.

after losing your father, you were so sad that you cried so much until your eyes were red and puffy. even so, you still let yoonchae stay by your side, sharing grief together.

daniela, too, in fact stayed by your side. she doesn’t try to talk too much. instead, daniela would hold your hand in silence, or keep you close in her embrace while you cry. even planting comforting kisses on your temple after you broke down. the kind of gesture you would believe she was being thoughtful.

honestly, that puts yoonchae in doubt whether to trust her instinct about something is wrong with daniela. especially when she noticed daniela is missing the earring that she found last week. however, seeing how comfortable you are with daniela and how daniela takes care of her older sister makes her hesitate.

not long after, multiple knocks on the door from outside enough to jolt yoonchae awake from her train of thoughts. she puts down the last lunchbox she filled with apple slices and makes her way towards the door, wondering if it's you.

but then when she opened the door, she's wrong.

it's daniela.

“hey, yoonchae,” daniela greeted the younger woman with a faint smile. she seems like she's about to leave the village too. judging by the way she dresses and the white van she owned parked outside. she usually walk to get here. “can i come in?”

“sure, unnie, why not.” yoonchae mirrored the same gesture—despite feeling uneasy—as she let daniela step inside, closing the door and guide her to sit on the couch.

“your sister isn't home?” daniela asked yoonchae, seemingly looking for you.

“yeah, y/n unnie is out visiting our father's grave for a while,” yoonchae answered, coming back with two glasses of ice chocolate. “what makes you come here, unnie?”

“ah, that's quite unfortunate,” daniela sighs softly, but then changes her wording. “i mean, i want to meet your sister… but she's out visiting her father's grave. i miss her.”

yoonchae didn't reply right away, she offered a glass of ice chocolate to daniela. “our father means so much to her. especially after our mother passed away,” she muttered softly, taking a sip of her ice chocolate. “and she wants to visit his grave before we leave tonight.”

daniela nodded her head, taking every word in her head. “me too, i mean it's no use to open my shop here anymore, most people leave this town and it's getting boring. so i should do the same,” she sighs, not touching the ice chocolate. “so that's why i want to see you and your sister for the last time.”

“ohh i see..” yoonchae nodded her head, uncertain to ask daniela a question that has been stuck in her head for a long time. “um, unnie, can i ask you something?”

daniela nodded her head casually, leaning on her elbows on her knees while tilting her head aside. “what is it?”

yoonchae took the earring out of her pocket pants. her fingers tightened around the small earring, its silver surface glinting faintly beneath the couch’s incandescent lights. “did you lose one of your earrings? because..” yoonchae trailed off, slowly holding up the missing earring to daniela. “i think this belongs to you.”

for the first time, daniela froze. just for a heartbeat. too quick for most to notice. then her lips curved into a practiced smile, now barely reaching her eyes. she reached for the earring with careful fingers. “so that’s where it went,” she laughed lightly. “i thought i'd lost it. thank you, yoonchae.”

without waiting for a response, daniela probes gently. “where did you find it?”

yoonchae swallowed, her heart tightening. “in the alley… near the police station.” she answered cautiously, still wanting to hear daniela’s response.

for a second, silence stretched between them. but then, daniela stood up from the couch slowly, her eyes sharp on yoonchae. “are you okay? you look tense…” she stated.

when yoonchae didn't answer and started backing away, she tilted her head deceptively. “why do you look at me like that, yoonchae? did i do something wrong?”

yoonchae held back her tears and forced down a lump in her throat. “you… did you kill my father?” she asked straight away.

daniela remained silent, a faint smile playing on her lips. “i would never,” she finally answered. though her voice carried the eeriness of the tension between them. “what makes you think that?” she takes another step closer to yoonchae but the younger one falls off the couch and that makes her stop. “that’s horrible.”

“you scared me.”

with that, daniela's smile faltered that made her jaw tightened. “don’t say that.”

“leave,” yoonchae breathed out. “you need to leave.”

daniela simply let out a little chuckle. and just like that, her hands immediately shoot out to grab yoonchae by the collar with a surprisingly strong grip. “you’re just as annoying as your stupid father,” she clenched her teeth. “people like him don’t get second chances, yoonchae. i make sure of that.”

“w-who gives you the right to kill him for his sins!?” yoonchae snapped, although her voice shakes with dread. “y-you’re scarier than the monster you claim he was!”

as daniela held her silence, yoonchae carried on.

“you're just a fucking monster!”

just then, daniela burst out a sharp laugh, the kind of humorless laugh that sent shivers down yoonchae's spine. “no, no… i’m not a monster… monsters kill people for fun. i kill people for a purpose. there’s a difference,” she explained to yoonchae proudly, being self-righteous about herself. “i’m not a monster.”

“i’d rather die in your hands than hearing you admit yourself that you're not a monster.” yoonchae spat.

daniela's lips twitch into a smirk, her eyes glinted with twisted amusement. “if that's what you want…” daniela trailed off, her hand reaching out a pocket knife behind her pocket pants before lifting it up. “i’ll grant you that.”

before daniela could bring the knife down, the front door swung open. both daniela and yoonchae look up and find you're standing at the doorway, clearly terrified of the sight before you.

“daniela?” you croaked out. when you notice the glint of the pocket knife in daniela's grip right above yoonchae's head, you immediately run to push daniela off your younger sister without a second thought.

“unnie!” yoonchae shouted, quickly hugging you tight with a sigh of relief escaping her lips. “you came back.”

“i’m here, i’m here.” you whispered gently to yoonchae, hugging her close to you.

daniela hurriedly got on her knees with a grunt and pulled you away from yoonchae, hugging your body from behind as she held out the pocket knife, daring yoonchae to come closer.

“come closer, and i’ll kill your sister right in front of your eyes,” daniela threatens with a firm voice, pressing the pocket knife above your neck. “i’m not joking.”

“yoonchae, please—” you gasped, hands gripping uselessly around daniela’s arm. “please, listen to me, listen to me…” you sobbed, having trouble speaking when a pocket knife is one inch away from slicing your flesh.

“yes…” daniela bared a twisted smile, her legs dragging away further from yoonchae as her grip around you got tighter possessively. “listen to your sister, yoonchae…”

“run…” you muttered under your breath, sniffling while looking at yoonchae with misty eyes. “and don't look back.” you added softly.

“but—”

“go!” you shouted, making her flinch but quickly get up to run out of the house.

she followed what you said to her; run and don't look back. and definitely run to the police station right away to get some help.

“how could you do this to me, dani?”

“he better off dead, y/n…” daniela replied with her voice low and seductive. her lips hovering closely over your neck while the knife is now placed near to your chin, as if a reminder that you're trapped in this situation. in her arms. “his sins will stain you,”

“you're talking nonsense!” you cried out, squirming to get away from daniela but it was no use. you can't even move an inch. “that’s just a lame excuse for you to kill my father!” you barked, tears now wetting your cheeks.

daniela only let out a low laugh, her breath hitting against yours as she places a soft kiss on your wet cheek. “cute,” she whispered, sharp eyes trailing over you; that fear in your eyes, the tears, the ragged breathing, and the determination to escape. it intrigued her. “don't leave, y/n…”

“let me go!! please! i hate this! i hate you!” you cried out, now desperately, as if begging farther could make daniela change her mind.

but escaping is impossible to you when the wolf had finally lured the rabbit into her trap. most importantly, there was no way out. and possibly, you won't make it out alive.

“you hate me?” daniela repeated the last sentence. in an instant, you're now placed on the ground while daniela sat on top of you, wicked grin stretched wider as she throws the pocket knife aside to wrap her hands around your neck. “hate me all you want. i’ll make sure you won't leave me,” daniela remarked, her eyes and her grin tells you enough that she's holding onto her words. her fingers now began to tighten around your neck. “because i don't hate you, y/n. i love you.”

“if you love me, you wouldn't do something like this to me, dani!” you choked out, struggling to breath now that you're getting choked. “you—you sick!” you added, legs began to thrashing around.

“beg,” daniela purred, her thighs clamping around your hips to hold you firmly from moving too much and her hands refusing to ease. “say my name and let me hear you beg properly, pretty.”

“please—” you coughed out, right hand helplessly gripping daniela's shoulder. “p-please, daniela, please… please let me go!” you beg harder, tears blurring your vision as your trembling fingers reach to the pocket knife, praying daniela wouldn't notice.

“i love you… hah… i love you, y/n.” daniela whispered, leaning down to kiss your lips as her grip around your neck loosen to cradle your tear streaked cheeks.

your fingers eventually clench around the pocket knife and without wasting time, your hand swings to stab daniela’s shoulder.

daniela yelped in pain, clutching the pocket knife that was stabbed deep in her shoulder, blood seeping out of the wound. “fuck!” she screams in rage more than pain.

you quickly kick her chest and get on your feet to run out of the main door to escape, a relief dangerously clinging to you.

however, daniela pulled out the pocket knife and threw it straight to you, the blade sharply stabbed right in your calf as you fell on the porch.

“don’t leave me, darling…” daniela chuckled softly, her voice laced with possessive warmth—that makes your stomach knotted with dread—as she tangled her fingers in your hair, guiding you back into the kitchen. your weak hits landed against her legs helplessly, your cries spilling out in ragged breath but she only pulled you closer, as if holding something precious she refused to let go.

“j-just kill me…” you panted, teary eyes locked with daniela’s intense gaze. “you'll only make me suffer if you do this to me.”

daniela didn't reply right away, but her wicked grin twitched the thought of killing you. she never thought of killing you, no, never, at all, and when you bring it up, it makes daniela's heart stutter in her chest.

weird, her heart never beat for consternation.

however, twisted amusement never runs dry for a psychopath like daniela.

“if you want me to kill you so bad…” daniela paused, letting the silence stretch between them as she wrenched the pocketknife from your calf aggressively, your cry of pain only making her eyes linger on the stream of blood spill out of your flesh. “then let's die together, sweetheart.”

that’s when her eyes landed on the gasoline tank sitting against the wall, hidden beneath the sink as a dangerous, wicked smile tugged at her lips. daniela tilted her head—the gesture that mixed with curiosity and giddiness—as her fingers twitched at her side, seemingly itching for it.

“wouldn’t that be romantic?” she murmured under her breath, eyes turning back to you. “to end it all in fire… turning us into nothing but ash?”

“please, daniela…” you plead, ignoring her obvious intention. “just stab me or—”

your words died on your tongue when she kissed you, this time, gently like she's kissing you for the first time. “no, y/n.” daniela refused the idea of killing you after breaking the kiss, her tone as gentle as the previous kiss. “as cruel as i may be, i can't just take the life of one so precious to me.”

without giving you a chance to speak, daniela rose to her feet and seized the gasoline can, pouring it across the kitchen and living room while your pleas fell on deaf ears.

“if i can’t have you alive, i’ll at least make sure you aren’t taken without me.” daniela declared after discarding the empty tank with a careless thud.

then, daniela fished a lighter from her pocket pants, thumb rolling over the metal with the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times in her mind. she crouched near the trail of gasoline, eyes fixed on you with that unnervingly tender smile.

“now, we'll never be apart.” she whispered, almost like a wedding vow, before flicking the flame alive.

the fire caught in one blink of an eye, racing across the slick floor in a greedy flash. heat licked up the walls, the kitchen erupting into a snarling fire where you sat slumped down against the kitchen drawers.

your screams tore through the air, raw and desperate. but within moments, the roar of the fire swallowed them whole until only the crackle of burning wood remained.

“please get there faster! you have to capture the killer and save my sister from her!” yoonchae cried, demanding for the policemen to drive faster towards her place.

“wait what's that?” one of them asked, pointing at the direction as yoonchae's eyes shifted to the smoke lingering in the air, coming from her place. the sight before her knocked the breath right out of her as a scream tore out of her lungs in the police car.

“it's hot, daniela! stop it! stop it!” you scream while stumbling back from the growling fire, coughing and choking, fresh tears streaming down your face as you fight to breathe.

“shh.. y/n..” daniela kneeled in front of you and wiped your tears, brushing the messy strands of your hair before cradling your face in such a tender touch despite the storm around them. “it'll stop.”

“i don't want to die, please…” you plead, looking into her eyes. “yoonchae… i don't want to leave her alone, please let me go…” you added while gripping her shoulders tightly, both in pain and fear. “i don't want to die…”

“you told me to kill you earlier, now you don't want to die?” daniela chuckled, the sound that used to make your heart race for affection now changed to fear. “cute. you held such devotion like your father, but you're so pure, that's what i love about you, y/n.”

“what are you…”

“you never make me feel like this throughout my life…” she began to pour the words out from her heart, her hands now holding tight with yours, her thumb brushing yours as if to comfort you. “for the first time i laid my eyes on yours, my heart raced with desire for the first time…” she trailed off, flashing a smile that always meant for you—not twisted, but pure with affection that she never thought would have it in her. “and i don't want it to fade, so i have to end it like this. just to be with you.”

“daniela… this is—”

“say it,” daniela cut you off with a firm voice. “say that you love me,” she said as she brought your hands close to press her lips against your knuckles. “please, y/n…”

defeated, you mutter weakly. “i love you, daniela.”

a burning beam crashed to the floor behind her, sparks erupting closer to where you are. she didn’t even look back. her eyes were merely locked on yours, as if she saw nothing beyond you and the fire that would seal you together.

“i love you too, y/n.” she whispers, her thumb now smearing soot across your cheek tenderly. after that, she leans down again to kiss your lips gently, to steal away your breath, to end it all with a kiss when the ceiling groans above, ready to fall.

“you’re mine in life,” she whispered between the kiss with a soft gasp, her words slow and deliberate, while her firm eyes locked on your eyes that filled with fear. “and you’ll be mine in death.”

with that having said, even a gentle kiss hides the ruin it brings in the end.