#also he’d himself like to keep breathing

[vxlvted]

pussy drunk!bang chan

pussy drunk!chan who is absolutely addicted to you. the moment he gets a taste, it’s over for him. he would start all slow and controlled, wanting to savor your reactions. but the second you moan his name or tug at his curls, his self control shatter.

he’s sloppy with it, getting so into it, he doesn’t care about how messy he gets. lips and chin completely covered but he loves it. he practically drowns himself between your thighs, gripping them so tightly as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

he gets lost in you, moaning against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. when eventually pulls away for air, his voice is breathless, pupils blown wide. “You taste so fucking good, baby” he groans before diving back in like he’s starved.

he’s always talking between kisses, between long strokes of his tongue. whispering how much he loves this, how good you are for him, how he never wants to stops. when you pull his hair or grind against his face—his nose rubbing hard your clit—he whimpers, low and desperate like he’s the one being ruined.

if you try to push him away when it gets too much, he won’t budge. his arms will lock around your thighs, keeping you there as he murmurs “Just one more, baby…. just one more for me.” but it’s never just one more. once isn’t enough. twice isn’t enough. he could spend the entire night between your thighs and still wants more. he’ll kiss his way back up your body, his lips swollen and voice husky and plead, “again?”

he gets smug when your legs start to shake. he open his eyes briefly to watch as you grab at the sheets, his shoulders, your pillow, at anything you can. he loves watching you fall apart for him, because of him. “That’s it, let me hear you.”

and there’s no way he isn’t turned on while doing this. he gets hard from just eating you out. if he has you on your back, he’s grinding into the mattress, into the sheets. if he’s got you sitting on his face, he’s rutting up into nothing, only feeling the slight shift of his sweatpants when his hips thrust upwards. sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he gets embarrassingly close.

If you ever just grab his hair and hold him there, he’s a goner. his moans get louder. vibrating against your folds. I’m a firm believer in Chan being a pleasure dom. he loves making you feel good, that includes you using him for your pleasure.

I’m also a firm believer in Chan having a praise kink. I feel like he’d rather be praised than degraded. the second you call him good—your good boy, good baby—he loses it. gripping your thighs even harder, pulling you closer and working his tongue even faster to make you come undone. He lives for your praise, and he’ll do anything to earn it.

once he’s finally had enough, he’s pressing soft kissing into your thighs, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you slow your breathing. he’d be so gentle afterwards, holding you close and whispering how perfect you are, how much he loves you. and if you let him, he’s falling asleep with his head still inbetween your thighs, completely spent but happy.

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@yaorzu-blog

dividers from @/saradika-graphics

[kathaelipwse]

More Than Best Friends | L.Minho

Synopsis: After being abandoned by your boyfriend upon discovering your pregnancy, you struggle to navigate motherhood alone—until your best friend, Lee Know, steps in. As he becomes your greatest support and the perfect father figure for your daughter, buried feelings resurface. But will you have the courage to confess that you have fallen in love with him?

Warnings: Just fluff honestly-

Word count: 1.1k

Authors Note: Ah!! Lino as a girl dad <33

The pregnancy test sat on the bathroom counter, its two pink lines staring back at you like a reality you weren’t ready to accept. You felt your breath hitch as you sat on the floor, your arms wrapped around your knees. This wasn’t supposed to happen—at least, not like this. Your boyfriend, or rather, the man who was supposed to love you, had left as soon as you told him.

“I can’t do this,” he had said. “I’m not ready to be a father.”

And just like that, he was gone.

For days, you kept it to yourself, pushing away the one person you knew would see right through you—Lee Know, your best friend since childhood. If you told him, he’d worry, and you didn’t want to burden him. He had his own dreams, his own life to focus on.

So you avoided him.

You ignored his texts, dodged his calls, and canceled every plan you made. It wasn’t easy. Lee Know was persistent, showing up at your apartment unannounced, but you always found an excuse to push him away. He never pried, but you knew he was hurting.

Yet, even as you tried to keep your distance, you couldn’t erase him from your life completely. The ultrasound pictures sat on your bedside table—a reminder of the tiny life growing inside you. And, in some way, they were also a reminder of him. You had always imagined Lee Know being there, maybe as the fun uncle, spoiling your kid with treats and making them laugh. But never had you imagined him as more.

Until the day he found out.

Lee Know had finally had enough of your avoidance. He used the spare key you had given him years ago and let himself into your apartment, fully intending to scold you for acting weird.

“Alright, what’s your deal—” His voice cut off as his eyes landed on the small black and white images on your side table. He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what those were.

His heart pounded as he slowly stepped closer, picking up the ultrasound picture with shaky fingers.

“Is this…?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You stood frozen in the doorway, your face drained of color.

“Lee Know, I—”

“Since when?” he demanded, turning to face you fully, his expression unreadable.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears prick your eyes. “A few months.”

“A few months?” His voice rose. “You’ve been dealing with this alone for months?”

You looked away, shame washing over you. “I didn’t want to burden you.”

Lee Know let out a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Burden me? Are you serious right now? You’re my best friend! How could you think I wouldn’t be here for you?”

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks. “Because I was scared! He left, and I—”

Lee Know’s jaw clenched. “Who?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” he growled. “Tell me his name.”

You didn’t, but that didn’t stop Lee Know from feeling a burning rage in his chest. How could any man walk away from this? Walk away from you?

“I hate him,” he muttered under his breath before stepping closer. “But you’re not alone. You have me.”

And just like that, the weight you had been carrying for months felt a little lighter.

A few months later, you gave birth to a baby girl.

The moment you held your daughter in your arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and protection. But what surprised you most was the sight of Lee Know, standing by your side, looking down at the baby as if she were his own.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, eyes soft.

You turned to him, exhaustion evident in your voice. “Will you name her?”

Lee Know’s eyes widened. “Me?”

You nodded. “You’ve been here more than anyone else. You deserve it.”

He looked down at the tiny baby in his arms, her little fingers wrapping around his. And with a soft smile, he whispered the name that felt perfect.

“Minji.”

As the years passed, Lee Know became more than just your best friend. He became Minji’s protector, her playmate, her safe place. Even with his busy schedule, he always made time for her, whether it was bedtime stories, dance parties in the living room, or simply holding her when she had a bad dream.

And while you adored watching Lee Know bond with your daughter, a part of your heart ached. Because you had fallen in love with him.

But how could you ever tell him?

You weren’t the same as before. Motherhood had changed you—physically, emotionally. You weren’t the same girl Lee Know had grown up with. Your body had become curvier, softer, a reminder of the life you had brought into the world.

One night, you stood in front of the mirror, tugging at your oversized hoodie, trying to hide yourself. But Lee Know caught you.

“What are you doing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You turned away. “Nothing.”

Lee Know stepped forward and gently pulled your hoodie up, revealing the small folds of your stomach. “Stop hiding.”

You flushed. “I just… don’t look the same.”

He scoffed. “So?”

“So, I don’t feel beautiful anymore.”

Lee Know stared at you before shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”

Your eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

He leaned in, his hands resting on your waist. “You carried a whole human being. You think a few curves make you any less beautiful? If anything, you’re even sexier now.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as he smirked. “Seriously. I love every part of you.”

Your breath hitched. “Lee Know, I—”

“Mommy, Uncle Lino!” Minji ran into the room, interrupting the moment.

Lee Know laughed, picking her up effortlessly. “What’s up, princess?”

Minji pouted. “Why are you ‘Uncle Lino’ and not my daddy?”

Silence filled the room.

Your chest tightened as you looked at Lee Know, searching for an answer. But instead of hesitating, he just smiled.

“You can call me whatever you want, Minji.”

That night, you found the courage to confess.

“I love you, Lee Know,” you admitted, bracing yourself for rejection. “I know I come with baggage, and I—”

Lee Know rolled his eyes and closed the distance between you.

“Took you long enough,” he teased before lifting you onto the kitchen counter, trapping you between his arms.

You barely had time to process before his lips were on yours, soft yet demanding, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. “I’ve been yours this whole time.”

Minji’s giggle rang out from the doorway. “Eww, Uncle Lino!”

Lee Know turned, smirking. “Guess I’ll have to get used to ‘Dad’ now.”

And just like that, your little family was complete.

---

[wonkizz]

blossom of a flower

in which: you post yourself doing a sexy choreo for the first time ever and it makes enhypen feel…hot and heavy.

엔하이픈 x fem reader genre: highly suggestive warn: very suggestive language, flirting, usage of pet names, cursing, reader can be picked up in riki’s

now playing ▶️ : dance for you by beyoncé

희승

you had posted it on purpose, knowing your boyfriend had your post notifications on. no caption, just the video alone.

you were currently apart, you at your own practice while heeseung was at his. although it wasn’t long before he called you.

“hello,” you answered, trying not to giggle as you heard his harsh breathing on the other end of the phone.

“you’re fucking crazy, you know that?” he says, not even waiting for you to answer before going on a spiel.

“i know you and i know you did that on purpose, knowing we’d be apart. im not there to tease you. not there to tell you how well you did, how good you looked. i can only imagine what was going through your head doing that. was it me? were you thinking of me, baby?”

“i’m always thinking of you hee,” you respond, feeling the temperature in the room get 10x hotter than it already was.

“just wait until later, i’ll give you all the attention you’re probably craving right now.”

종성

your background in hip hop made the genre of dance very easy for you to do and accomplish. jay always praised you whenever you posted a new video of you doing choreo, complimenting you moves. though you had never done something like this.

you decided you wanted to expand your horizons and give another type of dance a try. you didn’t tell jay, wanting it to be a surprise for him as well as your fans.

when you posted it with him right next to you, watching as he got the notification, you gauged his reaction. his eyes widened hearing the song and its lyrics, but his eyes followed you on the screen, watching you move across it in ways he didn’t know you could move.

as the video finished, jay didn’t move nor speak for a moment.

you finally chose to break the ice, “so, what’d you think?”

“i think i have a problem and only you can solve it,” he says, tossing his phone aside, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bedroom.

재윤

jake was your biggest hype man. nobody did it for you like him.

whenever you posted a new video showcasing your talents, he’d be the first one to text you, complimenting you on how good you are.

this time though, when you posted, your phone was eerily dry in terms of texts from him.

you sat on your shared couch, confused as to why he hadn’t texted. did he not like it? was he angry you had posted something like that?

the door suddenly swung open, showing an out of breath jake, sweating like he’d just ran a marathon.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, immediately concerned.

you get up, vying for the kitchen to get him some water when a hand grabs you from behind, turns you around and lips crash onto yours.

the kiss is heated and you can barely keep up as jake moves hurriedly, discarding every piece of clothing he can reach.

“do you know how fucking crazy it drove me seeing you move like that. i had to run out of practice before anyone saw how hard i was.”

성훈

sunghoon was in the dorm when you sent him the link.

“tell me what you think 😘” you had said.

and he watched it, not knowing what to expect.

but the way he immediately got hard was astronomical. he had to use a pillow to cover himself before anyone could see.

“get over here immediately.” he texted back.

you arrived 10 minutes later, jolly with yourself.

the others had thankfully retreated to their rooms, not there to witness sunghoon’s embarrassment. he practically dragged you to his room, throwing you onto his bed and locking the door.

“you think you’re so fucking funny huh?”

you laid there, pleased with yourself if the smile on your face said anything, “i think i’m pretty much a comedian.”

sunghoon started undoing the tie on his sweats, “i’ll show you funny, sweetheart.”

선우

sunoo was also very big on supporting you. he always did his best to show you love and affection, cheering you on with everything you did. this time was no different. he texted you almost immediately after you had posted the video, giving you a live reaction.

“omg im watching it now.”

“okay, love the song choice”

“ohhh this is different for you!!”

“how do you move like that, seriously??”

and then it was quiet for a few minutes.

“are you okay?” you had texted, worried something had happened.

the text bubble popped up immediately and you couldn’t help but laugh at his next text.

“i’m okay, but im hard and horny now :( how could you do this to me?”

“do you need me to come help you?”

“yes please.”

정원

you and jungwon danced together frequently.

today you decided to show him a new choreo you had learned with your choreographer. he was excited of course, always ready to see whatever it was you wanted to show him.

what he wasn’t expecting was the loud bass and slow melody to come out of the speakers.

nor was he expecting the way you moved to the floor. the way you moved…how else could he describe it other than enticing and absolutely beautiful? by the time you finished, he had to wipe the drool that had escaped his mouth.

you walked up to him, laughing at his shocked face, knowing this was something you’d never done before. something he’d never seen before.

“so, what’d you think?”

jungwon had to take a second to think about his next words. he got up, going to the door of the practice room, locking it.

he came back to you, “i think i need you right now and i can’t wait until we’re back home.”

니키

riki was in the bedroom, getting ready to go out with the guys while you were sat in the living room.

you posted the video on purpose of course, your intention to make him stay home with you, without words of course.

within seconds, you could heard the video playing from the bedroom. you giggled to yourself, praying your plan worked.

you thought it would end after one play, but then you heard it play three more times.

is he good? you thought to yourself, but not getting up to check on him.

suddenly, he came out of the bedroom, phone in hand, video playing again for a fourth time, half dressed by the way.

“if you wanted me to stay home, you could’ve just asked,” he said, smirking at you.

you shrugged your shoulders, “maybe i just needed a reason to post the video.”

riki suddenly ditched his phone in favor of picking you up off the couch and carrying you to the bedroom as you laughed.

“we’ll see how much you’re laughing by time i’m done with you.”

WONKIZZ 2025

note: i got kinda lazy as we went so pls ignore that :/ i hope u enjoy anyway andddd yeah hehe

[batboysanonymous]

Watching, Waiting, Wanting (Extended Version)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel was never a good man, not when it came to her—his darkness, his obsession, his carefully crafted devotion was something no one, not even the Mother herself, could sever.

Continue reading below ⬇

───────────────────────────────

Y/n didn’t know he was there.

She never did.

Not really.

She moved through Velaris with a softness Azriel could never replicate. A kind of weightlessness that made him feel like he could breathe when he hadn’t even realized he’d been drowning.

She sat by her window now, curled up in an armchair with a book in her lap, one hand absentmindedly twirling a loose strand of hair. The golden glow of candlelight flickered against the glass, painting her in hues of warmth, softness—everything that was hers and hers alone.

And yet, she wasn’t alone.

She had left her window cracked. Just slightly.

An invitation. A mistake.

Azriel stood across the street, concealed by the darkness, his oldest companion. He shouldn’t be here. He told himself that every time, and yet, every night, he returned.

His little dove.

So delicate. So blissfully unaware of the wolf watching from the shadows.

He told himself it was for her safety. That he needed to ensure nothing happened to her, that Velaris was not as safe as she believed. That if he left her alone for too long, something might come along and take her from him before she even knew she belonged to him.

He was simply looking out for what was his.

She should be more careful. Should know better than to let anything in.

But he liked that she didn’t.

That she was soft in a way that let his darkness wrap around her, unseen, unheard.

That she hadn’t yet learned to fear the thing lurking just beyond her reach.

Because once she did, he would have to remind her—

Fear wasn’t necessary.

Not when it came to him.

─────

Azriel had known her for years, long before the bond snapped.

At first, she had been nothing more than a curiosity, a shift in his peripheral vision that made him look twice. He had encountered countless beautiful females in his lifetime, had trained himself not to be swayed by a pretty face or a soft smile. But her…

She was different.

It started with glances.

Fleeting moments where she felt like an anomaly, an itch beneath his skin he couldn’t quite scratch.

Then, it became more.

He memorized her routine before he even let himself admit how deeply she consumed him.

She had a habit of visiting the same café every morning, ordering tea with three sugars and just a touch of honey. She always brought a book, always tucked her hair behind her ear as she read, always tilted her head slightly when she was deep in thought.

She walked through Velaris without a care, trailing her fingers along shop windows, the rough stone walls of old buildings, the velvet-lined chairs in bookstores.

As if she needed to ground herself to the world.

She never saw his shadows.

Never flinched from them the way others did.

If anything, they curled toward her, drawn to her warmth, her light.

Like him.

And that was the moment he knew.

He wanted to be the one to keep her that way—untouched, unbothered by the horrors of reality.

But he also wanted her to see him.

Not just as the quiet male in the shadows.

But as something inevitable.

─────

It had escalated quickly.

At first, he told himself it was only coincidence.

That every time he found himself in her favorite café, in the bookstore she visited every Sunday, in the marketplace she passed through on her way home—it was chance.

But it wasn’t.

It was control.

His control.

She just didn’t know it yet.

His presence lingered in every corner of her life, woven into the spaces between her laughter and solitude. He made sure she was safe. Made sure no one got too close, no one posed a threat.

She would never have to know about the drunk male who had followed her down an alley one night, only to disappear before he ever reached her. She would never have to know about the shopkeeper who let his gaze linger too long and found his storefront mysteriously wrecked the next morning.

She would never have to know about the nightmares Azriel erased before they could ever touch her reality.

Because he would handle them all.

And he did.

─────

The bond was a mercy.

The bond was a curse.

A relief, because now he knew.

A curse, because it made his hunger insatiable.

She didn’t know yet. He hadn’t told her.

Not because he didn’t want to, but because she wasn’t ready.

She had spent years living a life without him in it, and he would not rip that away from her in one fell swoop.

No.

He would ease her into it.

Let her come to him, let her feel the pull of fate in her own time.

Because once she did, there would be no going back.

And he wanted her to accept it willingly.

To crave him the way he already craved her.

To need him.

The way he needed her.

─────

Tonight was different.

Tonight, she had made a mistake.

She had gone to dinner. With him.

Azriel knew the male wasn’t worthy.

He had watched them together, seen the way his hand had brushed over her wrist, how he had leaned too close, spoken too softly.

As if he had any right.

Azriel waited outside her townhome as the male walked her to the door, his fingers clenching as he lingered.

She was smiling.

And Azriel saw red.

His shadows writhed around him, screaming for violence, for blood, for retribution.

He let the male walk away.

For now.

It didn’t take long to find him.

The scent of her lingered on his skin. The scent of her laughter, of her soft smiles, of the warmth she had freely given.

Azriel stalked him through the empty streets, silent, patient.

When the male finally noticed him, it was already too late.

Azriel was on him in a breath, shadows wrapping around his throat, a blade pressing just below his chin.

“You will not see her again,” Azriel murmured, voice a deadly whisper.

The male stilled, his pulse hammering against the cold steel.

“I—I don’t understand—”

Azriel pressed harder, just enough to make the male’s breath hitch.

“She’s mine.”

The words sank into the silence between them, unshakable.

And then, he was gone.

But the warning was given.

If the male touched her again—looked at her again—

He wouldn’t live to regret it.

─────

Her voice was soft when she answered the phone.

“Hello?”

Azriel didn’t speak.

He just listened.

She hesitated, the silence stretching between them.

She should have hung up.

She didn’t.

She knew.

Not fully, not yet. But some small, secret part of her understood she wasn’t alone.

That something was watching.

That he was watching.

The realization made his lips curl.

He let the silence stretch, let the tension coil between them through the receiver.

Then, softly, possessively—

“I’ll see you soon, little dove.”

And he hung up.

─────

Y/n felt it before she saw it.

That unsettling prickle down her spine.

The feeling of something—someone—watching.

It wasn’t new. No, it had been there for weeks now, an ever-present ghost in the edges of her awareness. She’d tried to ignore it at first, chalking it up to paranoia, to her own mind playing tricks on her in the dead of night.

But then the signs started piling up.

The way the candle by her window flickered unnaturally some nights, as if a breeze had disturbed it—but the window was never open. The way her door, locked before she went to bed, sometimes felt…wrong when she woke. As if someone had touched the handle, pressed against the wood, lingered on the threshold.

And the phone calls.

Always silent. Always stretching long enough to make her heart pound.

She could hear it now—her heartbeat in her ears, the weight of her own breath, the pulse of something unseen tightening its grip around her world.

Still, she told herself it was nothing. That she was being ridiculous.

That she was safe.

She wanted to believe it.

And maybe she would have.

If not for the note.

──────

She found it the next morning.

A single slip of parchment, placed delicately atop the book she had left on her nightstand.

She stared at it for a long moment, her fingers hesitating before picking it up.

One sentence.

“Don’t be afraid of me. I’m what you need.”

Her breath hitched.

The ink was bold, deliberate. A declaration, not a plea.

Her first instinct was to run.

To leave, to get out of her house, to flee into the streets where she wouldn’t be alone.

But something in her made her pause.

A different kind of fear creeping up her spine.

Not of whoever had written the note.

But of what would happen if she disobeyed.

Azriel watched from the rooftop across the street, his shadows curling around him.

She had found his gift.

Her reaction was predictable—wide eyes, sharp breath, that moment of hesitation where she debated running.

But she didn’t.

His little dove was clever.

She was learning.

Good.

He had no desire to chase her.

Yet.

He had been patient. Had watched, waited, ensured she felt his presence before she ever truly saw him.

And now, the game was beginning.

Y/n carried the note with her the rest of the day.

She didn’t know why.

Perhaps some part of her wanted proof. Evidence that she wasn’t imagining things, that the slow-burning paranoia clawing its way into her bones was real.

That someone had been in her room.

And that whoever it was—

They wanted her to know it.

She almost told someone. Almost mentioned it when she ran into Feyre at the market, when Cassian joked about how exhausted she looked.

But the words stuck in her throat.

Because there was something else.

Something deeper than fear.

Something darker.

A part of her that wanted to know who it was.

Not to expose them.

But to understand why she wasn’t afraid the way she should be.

Why, when she read the note again, her skin didn’t crawl—

It burned.

──────

Azriel moved through the shadows, trailing her like a silent storm.

She was thinking about him.

He could tell by the way she bit her lip, the crease in her brow, the way she kept reaching into her pocket—fingering the note he had left.

Good girl.

She was holding onto him already.

It was only a matter of time.

Tonight, she would see him.

Not fully, not yet.

But enough.

Enough to know that running was useless.

Enough to know that she belonged to him.

──────

She felt him before she saw him.

Like always.

She had just gotten home, the door locking behind her with a quiet click. But it didn’t ease the tension in her chest, the feeling that the walls weren’t enough to keep something out.

Something had changed tonight.

The air felt heavier. Thicker.

She hesitated before pulling the curtains shut, her fingers trembling against the fabric.

And then—

A shadow moved outside her window.

Slow. Deliberate.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Not a flicker of darkness.

Not a trick of the night.

A shape.

A figure.

Standing just beyond the glass.

Watching.

Waiting.

She knew she should scream. Should run. Should do anything but what she did—

Which was step closer.

The candlelight illuminated just enough.

Just enough to catch the glint of a scarred hand pressed lightly against the windowpane.

A warning.

A promise.

She barely had time to suck in a breath before the shadows swallowed him whole, disappearing into the night as if he had never been there at all.

But he had been.

And he would be again.

Her fingers curled around the note in her pocket, heart hammering.

Not in fear.

But in anticipation.

Azriel sat in the darkness, the memory of her face burned into his mind.

She had seen him.

Not enough to run.

But enough to understand.

He was not leaving.

He was not letting go.

She would come to him soon.

Whether she meant to or not.

He smirked, whispering softly to the night.

“Don’t run, little dove. You won’t get far.”

──────

Y/n woke with a gasp.

The room was silent, but the weight pressing against her chest was suffocating, as if the air itself had thickened, filled with something unseen, something oppressive.

Her skin burned.

Not a fever. Not exhaustion.

Something deeper.

Something wrong.

She sat up, shoving the blankets away, her breath uneven, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

It was happening again.

That feeling—like she wasn’t alone, like something lurked just beyond her senses, waiting.

Her fingers clenched into the sheets, nails digging into the fabric.

This was worse than before.

Worse than the silent phone calls. Worse than the shadows shifting outside her window.

Because this time—

It was inside her.

Something inside her was fracturing, splitting open, unraveling at the seams.

And she knew.

Knew what it was.

Knew what it meant.

The bond.

It was snapping.

And she had no way to stop it.

──────

Azriel felt it the moment it happened.

The bond, taut for so long, frayed and frayed until it could stretch no more—

Finally gave.

Finally snapped.

He had been waiting for this moment.

Had anticipated it. Had prepared for it.

And yet, as it hit him like a violent storm, like a brand searing into his very soul—he almost drowned in it.

The air in his lungs vanished.

His vision blurred at the edges.

And all he could feel—

All he could taste, breathe, consume—

Was her.

Panic. Confusion. Fear.

But beneath it—beneath the terror lacing her scent—

Was the undeniable pulse of recognition.

Of need.

She was calling for him.

Whether she realized it or not.

And he was coming.

──────

Y/n stumbled to the bathroom, gripping the sink with trembling hands.

She could barely recognize herself in the mirror.

Her pupils were blown wide, her skin flushed, her lips parted as if she couldn’t get enough air.

She was shaking.

This wasn’t right.

This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Mates.

Azriel.

Azriel.

His name slipped into her mind like a whisper, a call, a demand.

Her chest ached at the thought of him.

Not the normal kind of ache—the kind she had pushed down for weeks, months.

No, this was worse.

It was splitting her apart, tearing into the deepest part of her, pulling her toward something she had no hope of resisting.

Her legs nearly buckled, her grip tightening on the sink.

She needed air.

She needed out.

──────

Azriel had barely given himself time to process before he was moving.

His body acted before his mind could catch up, his shadows twisting through the night, pulling him forward, faster, to her.

She wouldn’t be able to handle it alone.

Not the bond. Not him.

She had fought it, denied it, ignored the inevitable—

But she would not ignore it now.

She couldn’t.

And neither could he.

He had played the game long enough. Had given her space, let her adjust, let her dance along the edges of something she didn’t yet understand.

That time was over.

She was his.

She had always been his.

And now—

Now, she would finally know it.

──────

Y/n barely made it to the door before it blew open.

The shadows came first—pouring into the entryway like living ink, swallowing the light, wrapping around her ankles, her wrists, her throat.

And then—

Him.

Azriel.

He stepped through the threshold like a nightmare incarnate, like he had walked straight from her fears into reality.

Tall. Dark. Eyes burning with something lethal.

Something hungry.

She stumbled back.

The bond roared.

She choked on a breath, her body betraying her, heat curling deep in her stomach, her instincts screaming at her to move toward him even as her mind screamed the opposite.

“No—” Her voice wavered, hands braced behind her against the wall, nowhere to go, no escape.

His head tilted, slow.

Predatory.

“You feel it.”

Not a question. A statement.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

He took a step forward.

She pressed harder against the wall, as if it could swallow her whole, as if it could save her from what was coming.

“I—” She shook her head, her breath shallow, her body betraying her with every second that passed. “You—”

She couldn’t get the words out.

Because he was right.

She felt it.

The tether between them, pulling, strangling, refusing to be ignored.

His eyes darkened, his scars flexing as his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“You ran from it,” he murmured, voice like velvet-wrapped steel. “You ran from me.”

She flinched.

His shadows curled tighter around her wrists, not touching—not yet.

“But you can’t anymore, can you?” he breathed.

Her throat closed.

The bond was suffocating.

Too much.

Too strong.

Her body was on fire, her vision blurring, her skin screaming for contact.

And he knew it.

His lips curled, his head tilting as he drank her in.

“You feel what I feel now, don’t you?”

His voice was low, deep, meant only for her.

She tried to deny it.

Tried to shake her head, tried to push down the sharp, desperate pull in her chest—

But she couldn’t.

And he saw it.

Saw the exact moment she broke.

Azriel moved—too fast, too sudden, too much.

His hands slammed into the wall on either side of her head, caging her in, his body pressed close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the strength, the ownership.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he murmured, his breath a ghost against her lips.

Lies.

She should be.

She was.

But beneath that fear—

Was something else.

Something worse.

Because her body—traitorous, weak, his—was leaning into him.

Was giving in.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking.

He let her.

Let her pretend she had a choice.

But then—

Then his lips brushed against her temple, just once, just enough to send a violent shudder through her body.

“I am what you need.”

Her eyes snapped open.

Met his.

And she knew.

There was no running.

There never had been.

Not from him.

Not from this.

The bond had snapped.

And Azriel—

Azriel was never letting her go.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Taglist: @kathren1sky_blog, @willowpains, masbt1218, @antonia002, bookishcait, fuckingsimp4azriel, @fanficscuziranout, buttermilktea11, @lilah-asteria, quiettuba

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[imreidswifey]

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬

A Spencer Reid x Reader Fanfiction

Summary: While spending a golden evening in a meadow, you and Spencer Reid take photographs of each other, capturing fleeting moments and unspoken emotions.

Warnings: Fluff & Soft Romance, Light Angst (Insecurities, Vulnerability), Mutual Pining, Brief Touch-Starvation Themes, Spencer Being an Awkward but Adorable Mess

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——–

The golden hour had just begun, stretching long shadows across the meadow as we wandered through the tall grass. The sun dipped low, casting everything in a warm, honeyed glow, and I knew this was the perfect moment.

“Okay, Spencer, hold still.” I lifted my camera, adjusting the lens as he fidgeted in place.

“Technically, it’s impossible to hold completely still,” he said, shifting his weight slightly. “The human body is in a constant state of micro-movement due to circulatory and muscular functions.”

I lowered the camera and raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you trying to tell me you’re incapable of modeling for me?”

He smiled sheepishly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “No, just… statistically speaking, perfect stillness is unachievable.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning. “Well, statistically speaking, you’re also adorable, so I think it balances out.”

His ears turned pink, and I took that as my cue to snap a picture. The click of the shutter echoed softly in the open field, and Spencer blinked at me in surprise.

“That was sneaky,” he murmured.

“That was art.” I smirked, stepping closer. “You look good in this light, you know.”

He ducked his head, his unruly hair falling into his eyes. “I doubt that.”

I huffed. “You seriously don’t see how beautiful you are, do you?”

Spencer hesitated, looking at me like I’d just spoken in an entirely different language. “I… I don’t really think of myself in those terms.”

I sighed, setting the camera aside and reaching up to brush a stray curl from his face. “Good thing I do, then.”

His breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, we just stood there, the wind stirring around us, carrying the scent of wildflowers and salt from the distant ocean.

“You know,” he said softly, “I could say the same about you. The way the sunlight catches your hair, the way your eyes light up when you’re behind the camera—you’re breathtaking.”

My heart did a little somersault, and I swore the warmth in my cheeks had nothing to do with the sun.

“Then prove it,” I challenged, handing him the camera.

Spencer blinked. “You want me to take pictures of you?”

“Unless you’re scared,” I teased.

That was enough to ignite something in him. His lips twitched, and he took the camera carefully, adjusting the settings with nimble fingers. “I’m not scared,” he said, tilting his head. “But I should warn you—I’ve never actually done this before.”

I shrugged, stepping back into the field, the tall grass swaying around me. “Just capture what you see.”

He lifted the camera, peering through the viewfinder. His expression was one of deep concentration, brows furrowing slightly, lips pressing together.

The first click sounded, and I felt the slightest flutter in my chest.

“That’s it,” I encouraged. “Just keep going.”

Spencer took another picture, then another. I twirled, letting my dress catch the breeze, laughing when he made a surprised sound at how the fabric billowed out.

“You look like something out of a fairytale,” he murmured, half to himself.

I stilled at his words, watching him over the top of the lens. He hadn’t even realized he’d said it out loud.

“Spencer Reid, are you flirting with me?”

His hands fumbled slightly on the camera, and he cleared his throat. “I don’t— I mean— Not intentionally?”

I laughed, walking toward him as he lowered the camera. “Not intentionally?”

His gaze flickered between my eyes and my lips, the golden light making the amber in his irises stand out. “Well… maybe a little.”

“Good.” I say smiling warmly

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Good?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Because I think we should do this more often.”

He was still holding my camera, his fingers curled gently around the body of it, hesitant but careful—like he was holding something precious.

“Alright,” I said, tilting my head at him. “Now that you’ve taken some pictures of me, let me take some of you again.”

Spencer hesitated, shifting his weight slightly. “I’m really not a good subject for photographs,” he muttered, looking away.

I took a step closer, nudging his elbow playfully. “That’s not true. I think you’re my favorite subject.”

His ears turned pink again, and I felt an absurd amount of pride at being able to do that to him.

“Just—try to relax,” I said, raising the camera to my eye. “Pretend like I’m not even here.”

He huffed out a small laugh. “That’s statistically impossible, considering you’re standing less than three feet away with a camera aimed directly at my face.”

I groaned. “Spencer.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I’ll try to be a good model for you."

He pushed his hair back from his face, the motion instinctive but charming, and I snapped a photo before he had a chance to overthink it.

Click.

The way the golden light caught in his eyes was mesmerizing.

Click.

The wind ruffled his curls slightly, making him look softer, more unguarded.

Click.

He tucked his hands into his pockets, tilting his head slightly, that thoughtful expression settling over his face—the one he got when he was deep in thought, figuring out something complex and beautiful.

Click.

I lowered the camera and sighed dramatically. “You’re really not making this easy for me, you know.”

Spencer blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said, stepping closer, “you keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

I gestured vaguely between us. “Like you’re cataloging every single thing I do and saving it for later.”

He opened his mouth, then hesitated. “I—well, I suppose I do tend to remember things in extreme detail…”

“Yeah, I know,” I said softly. “And I love that about you.”

His breath hitched slightly, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how.

Instead of pressing him, I simply raised the camera again. “One more?”

Spencer nodded slowly.

I took a step back, positioning the shot just right. And for once, he wasn’t overthinking it.

He just looked at me.

Click.

I lowered the camera and exhaled. “Perfect.”

He swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I see?”

I flipped the camera around, showing him the last shot. His expression softened slightly as he took in the image—him standing in the middle of the field, golden light pooling around him, looking at me like I was the most fascinating thing in the world.

He was quiet for a long moment.

“I… didn’t know I could look like that,” he admitted finally.

I reached out, curling my fingers lightly around his wrist. “That’s how I see you. Every single day.”

Spencer glanced up, his gaze locking onto mine, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The world around us faded—the rustling grass, the distant waves, the hum of insects in the evening air. It was just us, standing there, wrapped up in something unspoken but undeniable.

Then, tentatively, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers were warm against my skin, lingering just a little too long.

“You make everything feel… different,” he murmured.

“Different how?” I whispered.

“Like—like maybe the world isn’t as scary as I think it is when you’re in it.”

My heart clenched in the best possible way.

I reached up, cupping his cheek lightly. “Spencer Reid, you are the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

His breath stuttered, and for a second, I thought maybe—just maybe—he was going to kiss me.

But instead, he smiled. That rare, beautiful, completely unguarded smile.

“Come on,” he said softly, threading his fingers through mine. “Let’s take more pictures before the sun sets.”

And just like that, we were moving again—laughing, running through the meadow, chasing the last bits of sunlight, capturing each other in every possible way.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt infinite.

Remember to like ♡

We walked through the field, Spencer still holding my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Every few minutes, I would stop, lifting the camera to take another picture of him—sometimes posed, but more often candid, when he wasn’t paying attention.

Spencer Reid in golden light. Spencer Reid laughing under his breath at something I said. Spencer Reid pushing his hair back, lost in thought.

I was collecting moments, like fireflies in a jar, afraid that if I didn’t, they might slip away too quickly.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head as he watched me snap another photo.

“Of course I am,” I said, grinning. “You’re my favorite subject.”

He huffed a small laugh, but I could see the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides, as if unsure of what to do with the compliment.

We reached a small clearing where the grass was shorter, the wildflowers sparser but still present, dotting the earth like flecks of paint on a canvas. The horizon stretched out in front of us, endless and breathtaking.

Spencer hesitated, then turned to me. “Can I take another of you?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Gaining confidence in your photography skills?”

He gave me a shy, almost embarrassed smile. “More like… I just want to remember this.”

My heart tripped over itself.

I handed him the camera without a word, stepping back into the open space. “How do you want me?” I asked, my voice softer than before.

Spencer exhaled, lifting the camera, and I could tell he was thinking. Analyzing. Mapping out the shot the way he would with any other pattern or statistic.

Finally, he said, “Just be you.”

Something about that made me still. Be me. No posing, no forced smiles. Just… exist.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the wind move through my hair, breathing in the scent of the evening.

Click.

I turned slightly, opening my eyes again, finding Spencer watching me through the lens.

Click.

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling a little too seen, a little too vulnerable. “How’s it going?” I asked.

He lowered the camera, looking at me in that way of his—like I was something to be studied, understood. Like I was something worth understanding.

“I think… I think I get it now,” he said.

“Get what?”

He hesitated, then held up the camera. “Why you love this so much. Taking pictures. It’s—it’s a way to hold onto things, isn’t it? A way to make sure they don’t fade.”

My throat felt tight. “Yeah,” I whispered. “Exactly.”

Spencer looked at the camera in his hands like it was something precious, something sacred. “I think I’d like to do this more often.”

I smiled, stepping closer, reaching for the camera. Our fingers brushed as I took it back, and he didn’t move away.

“You can take as many pictures as you want,” I murmured. “Of me. Of anything.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “I’d rather just keep looking at you like this.”

My breath caught.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with something unsaid, something unspoken but undeniable. The sun had nearly set, leaving only a soft, glowing haze behind.

Spencer lifted his hand hesitantly, brushing his fingers lightly against my cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, like it was a secret he wasn’t sure he was allowed to say out loud.

I leaned into his touch, my heart pounding. “Spencer—”

He stepped closer, his hand trailing down, his fingers skimming my jaw, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. His gaze flickered from my eyes to my lips, then back again.

I could feel the warmth of his breath, the way his chest rose and fell.

“Can I—?” His voice was barely above a whisper, uncertain but hopeful.

I nodded.

And then, finally, finally, Spencer Reid kissed me.

It was hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right. But when I reached up, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, something in him melted.

The kiss deepened, slow and soft, full of things we had yet to say out loud. He tasted like sunlight and something sweet, something uniquely Spencer.

When we finally pulled away, he was breathless, his eyes still half-lidded as he looked at me like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

I smiled, brushing my thumb over his cheek. “Took you long enough.”

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “I was just—statistically speaking, I didn’t want to ruin anything—”

I cut him off with another kiss, because honestly, I didn’t need statistics right now. I just needed him.

The camera hung forgotten around my neck, the sunset fading into twilight, but I didn’t mind.

Because in that moment, with Spencer’s arms around me and his lips against mine, I knew—

I didn’t need a picture to remember this.

I would never forget.

[ohburgee]

Now I want to make them a little possessive. So when you're talking to another man, well, your friend, but your husband's eyes gleam with jealousy towards your friend.

They watched as the nobles talked and laughed, their eyes subtly scanning the room until they landed on you.

As a noble yourself, you were engaged in polite conversation with others, attending the grand celebration for the Imperium and the Emperor himself. The higher-ranking officials mingled nearby, including your husband, a powerful Primarch conversing with the elite.

You exchanged words with various nobles until your gaze caught a familiar face. Your childhood friend, also from a noble family, smiled and gestured to you. You approached, and he respectfully kissed your hand before you began chatting. Minutes passed, filled with light laughter and fond memories, but an unsettling sensation crept up your spine.

Slowly, you glanced upward, only to see your husband watching your friend intently, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

...

The Primarch had been speaking with the High Lords and other influential nobles, paying little mind to your interactions until he saw you laughing and smiling. That smile, shared with another man, ignited something dark inside them.

When your friend casually rested his hand on your waist, the Primarch’s composure shattered. Without a word or excuse, they walked away from the High Lords, eyes locked on you. You noticed his approach, your breath catching as you quickly stepped away from your friend, discreetly brushing his hand off you.

But it was too late.

Your husband seized your friend by the collar, dragging him forward with terrifying ease.

“If you ever touch what’s mine again, I’ll cut that hand of yours,” he growled, voice low but dripping with menace. Your friend paled, his terrified eyes.

You gently placed a hand on your husband's arm, attempting to soothe them.

“Please, stop. Don’t make a scene,” you whispered, glancing around at the surrounding nobles, their conversations slowing as they began to take notice.

The Primarch turned to you, their grip loosening as they met your pleading gaze. They released your friend with a shove, still fuming.

“It’s the Emperor’s celebration,” you reminded them softly. “Your father’s celebration. You don’t want to ruin it.”

They sighed, pulling you close instead, their apology meant only for you, not for the friend who dared touch what they considered theirs. Forgiveness wasn’t an option.

“Come, let’s talk with the others together,” you suggested, not wanting to risk another outburst. They nodded, keeping you at their side, their arm possessively winding around your waist.

As you walked away, they glanced back at your friend, smirking. Then, to make his dominance clear, they kissed your head, their grip on you tightening.

Your friend? Just an ordinary noble. Powerless, insignificant. Compared to your husband, a son of the Emperor, a Primarch, your friend was nothing.

And that made you powerful too. You carried your husband's strength, just as he carried yours.

If anyone dared touch you again... Well, you’d see your husband return to you covered in blood, grinning like a predator that had torn apart the fool who crossed the line.

He’d kill for you and you knew he’d enjoy it.

n: I realized I've been writing these scenarios on a celebration event settings. The world of 40k is full of war, so this is what my mind got :]

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Haunted- Tom Riddle "x" Reader-oneshot

Summary; Tom uses the basilisk to make his first Horcrux-except something else latches onto his diary, and then-to himself.

warnings; murder, death, vengeful sprit behavior, blood, horror images. meh 2nd half plot.

i like the first half of this fic better then the 2nd,but i ran out of ideas halfway through and just went through the story. i wanted this to be more of a...haunted horror fic? but also funny because ghost fucking with Tom??? idk enjoy?

=

When Tom made his first Horcrux, the diary-using the basilisk to kill a girl who’d been crying in the girls bathroom. It wasn’t that Myrtle girl like Tom planned-it was some random girl, wearing a Slytherin tie-but that didn’t matter, Tom successfully got away with it and all he needed to do was formally split his soul to put into his diary.

Except he couldn’t, when he tried, it was like something was already inside it-like something had already put its soul into his diary.

He was confused-his diary was from a muggle supply shop-how could it have a soul in it already??

Tom huffed to himself, glaring down at his diary. It was a secondhand diary anyway, stupid muggle things-stupid lack of funds. He placed his soul back inside him, nearly throwing up at the feeling. He cleaned himself of the pitch-black potion and put it away for later use-glaring at his diary again.

He picked it up, flipping through it to look at his past entries.

He found the pages about the night he killed the girl-only to find them scribbled over, in writing he never put.

WHY?

That was the only word that was scribbled over his entries in scratchy writing, Tom frowned, snapping his diary closed, feeling slightly uneasy.

Then he tossed his book away, keeping it hidden beneath his bed until he could find use for it again.

The next day, he spotted a girl staring at him from far away, others not really paying attention to her, and…her eyes were odd. They were black with a tiny white dot staring at him-black tears going down her face. His brow furrowed, staring back at her. “what are you staring at?” his follower Nott asked, looking to where Tom was staring.

But saw nothing.

He said as such and Tom swallowed, blinking and the girl was gone. It seemed he had a ghost on his hands, the girl he’d murdered with the basilisk, instead of being a roaming ghost-she’d attached to him, to his diary.

He wasn’t scared, no, he was never scared-not since he was young. But he was frustrated. Frustrated at another set back, frustrated this girl was clinging to him-preventing him from making his first Horcrux.

So he found an easy exorcism spell-preformed it on his diary. It seemed to work, as the scribbled words on the pages disappeared. He got out the pitch-black potion again, took out his soul-and was about to put it in his diary when two deathly pale ghostly hands gripped his wrists, coming from behind him-phasing through his shoulders.

He was yanked back-he let out a yelp as he hit the floor of the chamber of secrets, his head starting to pound as heat built in his nose. He couldn’t move his arms, instead they moved against his will-putting his soul back inside him forcefully.

He tore his eyes opened-breath catching as he saw the girl, black tears dripping down onto his face-staining it-her beady white dot eyes staring down at him. Wide. Unblinking.

Angry.

Tom swallowed hard, releasing his grip on his soul-and the girls ghostly painful grip faded too. She’d once more prevented him from making his horcrux-except this time, instead of possessing his diary-she’d physically stopped him. She’d attached her soul to his.

She knew he killed her, she’d seen him before she died-saw him order the basilisk to murder her. She was angry, confused, vengeful.

And Tom knew then and there that he’d never be rid of her.

-

Rosier noticed Tom wasn’t doing to well these days, especially after summer ended, and everyone returned for their next/final year. Tom was head boy now, but he was distracted, looking at things that others couldn’t see, sometimes speaking to something that wasn’t there. His followers grew concerned, seeing the dark circles growing under Tom’s eye, the way his hair became less-tamed as weeks went on.

“Tom-my lord-are you alright?” Nott asked Tom-who sat quietly at the library table they were studying at. Tom remained quiet, his eyes locked onto his essay, others unaware of the invasive presence hovering just behind him.

It was the girl, her name was, or had been, (y/n).  She didn’t speak to Tom, not once, only staring at him. She didn’t glare, she didn’t sneer, she only stared. Blank and angry.

Her black tears that dripped down her face had long stained his uniform and skin-but no one else could see them. He couldn’t wash them out, couldn’t charm anything clean-the stains would remain, always there, like acid on his clothes and skin-burning him with every new drop.

He felt like he was losing his mind.

She made him lose sleep. Nightmares of death plaguing him every night, of being killed by the basilisk, dying alone in a ditch, killed by a muggle serial killer, left alone in a forest to starve, hit by a car and left to bleed to death, unable to move as a train sped towards him.

Each nightmare-all of his very worst fear-left him bolting up at night, screaming-tears streaming down his face, only to be met with the blank angry stare of (y/n), making him jolt back-sometimes falling out of his bed, sometimes smacking against his headboard.

They’d stare at each other, for what felt like hours. She blended into the darkness of his room-sometimes only her eyes visible. “Leave me alone!” Tom screamed, it had been months after she’d begun to haunt him. “Just-go away! Why are you still here?!”

She got into his face, her mouth opening-blood-black and putrid-dripped out, staining her chin, teeth, his shirt as it splattered on him. He felt like puking, turning his face away as an inhuman pain filled scream came from her, making his ears ring and nausea fill his throat.

“Stop!” Tom screamed-covering his ears, clenching his eyes shut. “Stop stop! I’m sorry-I’m sorry! You weren’t the one I meant to kill! It was meant to be someone else-just stop!”

The non-apology, without any true remorse, meant nothing to (y/n). for the rest of the night she kept hovering over him, her face only inches away, her black blood dripping onto his face.

He didn’t get any more sleep that night.

-

During winter break of his 7th year, he went back to London-took a train to Little Hangleton, and met his uncle. A putrid man, a vile thing that was deformed from years of incestual breeding. He could only imagine that if his mother hadn’t bred with his father, Tom Riddle, the thing in front of him would’ve been his dad.

It was a disgusting thought, and Tom could only feel slightly grateful for a muggle man being his father, since he gave Tom his dashing looks. He stole his uncle's wand and the gaunt ring, aiming to make the ring his first Horcrux now that his diary had been prevented from being made one by (y/n).

She was still there, hovering behind him, following him everywhere, staring silently. She followed him to his fathers, his family manor. It was old and decaying, the rich muggle family clearly not carrying enough to put money into repairing it. Tom had heard as he traveled through the town about the Riddle family-cruel uncaring people, who were the ‘lords’ of the town, who didn’t help anyone in need and kept all their money to themselves, dreadfully paying the taxes due.

Such a waste. If he had such money-if he had been able to grow in a manor like this-he would’ve kept it in a state of beauty, not allowing the family to horde it pitifully.

He confronted his family, his grandparents and father. They were frightened, especially his father-who quickly assumed Tom was the bastard son of the witch who had raped him years back. Tom could understand such fear-and as his father spat insults at him, bred by the fear-he understood why his father didn’t stay. He never knew why his parents had gotten together, only sort’ve knowing his mother was abandoned by his father, thus abandoning Tom when he was still unborn.

He hadn’t known the lengths his mother had gone, and while he still felt angry, he understood. Who would stay with someone who had raped them? Possibly under a love spell for so long.

Still, Tom wanted his father, his muggle ties, dead. He raised his uncles wand only for a cold ghostly grip to wrap around his wrist, forcing his hand down. He glared at (y/n), who stared right back-preventing him from murdering his father, who was quick to run.

“Let me go-let me go! He needs to die!” Tom screamed, feeling terribly frustrated, feral with anger-he blasted her with a spell he’d discovered a few months back-one that worked on ghosts.

She flew back, hitting a chair that tumbled over-Tom didn’t care. He raced after his father, eyes wide and gleaming green under the light of the death curse. He caught up to his father, and drew his wand. “AVADA KADAVRA.” Tom bellowed, and his father dropped dead.

He did the same to his grandparents.

He breathed heavily, eyes wide as he stood over their bodies, their faces still with death and fear, the thrill of it all thumping in his chest. He almost waited for their ghosts to appear-but muggles couldn’t be ghosts, especially not when killed by the killing curse, for it destroyed the soul with it.

He looked up, seeing (y/n), staring at him again, black tears dripping off her chin to stain the very old ruined carpet. “Oh, shut it. I had a bloody reason for them. They deserved it.” Tom hissed at (y/n), turning on his heel to leave the bodies of his muggle family on the floor to rot. He found the safe-it had all the money. He pocketed it and left the house, returning his uncle's wand to him-it would be too easy to frame him.

He got on the train and returned to London. He felt giddy with it all-he knew he’d get away with it, just like he got away with (y/n)’s death as well, he ever got a bloody reward for catching her murder. He’d framed Hagrid but whatever, the half-breed didn’t belong at Hogwarts anyway, especially with his habit of bringing dark creatures into the school full of children.

(y/n) sat, or well, hovered on the seat across from him. Her uniform, stained with her black tears, seemed to melt into the shadows of the train seat. For the first time in a while, he looked at her-really looked at her. She still looked the same as she did when she died. 16.

He’d grown. In a few days he’d be 17.

He’d taken her life and now it was bound to his. “Why do you keep following me? Surely you’d rather pass on, haunt someone else?” Tom muttered, spinning the Gaunt ring that was now on his finger-he wanted her gone-he knew if she was around he wouldn’t be able to split his soul into the ring-she’d stop him. Just like she stopped him every other time he tried to make his diary a horcrux.

“Why?” Tom heard her rasp, audibly for the very first time. He looked up at her, she was close now-face only inches from him. “Why?” she asked again, her voice croaky with a death rattle, unnerving and making him queasy.

“It wasn’t meant to be you,” Tom admitted, looking down at his ring. “it was meant to be that crying Ravenclaw girl, Mortie or something, I planned for her to be the death I needed to make a horcrux, I didn’t know you were in there.” (y/n) just kept staring at him.

That wasn’t the why she wanted.

So Tom told her.  About his fear of death-which she must’ve already knew due to the nightmares of death she always gave him, about how he found out how to cheat death, with horcruxes. How killing someone was one of the steps to make one.

He waited for her to leave after that, to fade away or something. But she didn’t. she stayed. She kept haunting him.

Fearing death was not a good reason to murder someone. To take life away was the ultimate sin, and (y/n) was going to make sure he died. She would make sure he never became immortal.

-

She didn’t even let him make the potion this time, she shattered the jar he kept it in at school-preventing him from using it. Then she kept ruining his second potion attempt, shoving him, scaring him, screaming in his face; The potion kept blowing up in his face or became unusable because her distractions ruined it.

Another Horcrux object went unused. The ring now just a reminder of what felt like his only accomplishment; killing his muggle family and framing his uncle. He was the only heir to Slytherin now, even if he had a ghost that refused to let him rest.

She kept haunting him through the rest of the school year-his followers thought he was going mad, glaring at something that wasn’t there, or even yelling at something, her, that they couldn’t see.

He never told anyone of (y/n) haunting him, not wanting to seem pathetic-after all he was the upcoming dark lord. He was the one who would cheat death, he was the one who was going to rule the world one day. A silly ghost girl would not defeat him.

-

He was laughing, painfully and manically-Slytherin’s locket tight in his grip-shaking and dripping with blood as he stood. He’d done it. He’d made a Horcrux-after 10 years of discovering the power of the dark magic-he’d made one.

He snickered as he looked over at (y/n), who was stuck in a small summoning circle-made to keep her trapped so she couldn’t stop him this time. “oooh don’t look so sad darling,” Tom snickered, his eyes wide as he stumbled to his feet, walking over to (y/n)-staring down at her with a wide toothy grin. “isn't this what you wanted? To torment me forever? Now you can! Till the end of time.” Tom laughed, chuckling as he stumbled away, collapsing onto the bed of the inn room he’d rented, the body of a muggle sex worker on the floor-her expression white with fear, blood soaking into the wood.

(y/n) stared, anger rising.

She would make sure he died.

-

(y/n) was filled with glee-watching his spell backfire on a fucking baby. A baby killed him-it was poetic justice! But she didn’t fade away-she watched as his soul fled, a piece of it latching onto the poor baby in the crib-crying his little heart out.

Stupid horcruxes.

This baby, little Harry Potter, was the one from the prophecy-foretold to destroy Voldemort as he called himself now. (y/n) latched onto the soul piece within him.

She would make sure this boy survived to kill Voldemort. She would protect him, watch him grow, keep him safe.

Voldemort would die, she’d make sure of it.

…

Harry liked his friend. She was his imaginary friend of course, a curious girl wearing a curious outfit, with funny eyes. She protected him, from Dudley, from his uncle and aunt. She could make things move around him-scaring away his uncle, sometimes she appeared to them-especially Dudley; screaming in the boys face, black tears and all.

Harry loved her, she was maybe the closest thing he had to a mom, but she seemed to prefer if he thought of her as his sister or something. For many years he assumed she was some sort of imaginary friend that-somehow-could interact with the world around him.

When he got to Hogwarts, and she followed him-he learned what she really was. A ghost. She’d been there on the night his parents were murdered, she told him as such. “I was attached to Voldemort-he murdered me when we were both 16, I was, am, angry about it, so I latched onto his soul-following him, haunting him. I vowed to make sure he’d die, you somehow were able to do it, at least mostly. He’ll be back one day, and I’m going to make sure it’s him who dies, not you.” (y/n) told him one night, after he’d settled into Hogwarts.

Harry smiled, closing his eyes as her ghostly hand brushed over his head. “Thanks (y/n),” he murmured, falling asleep as (y/n) smiled back at him.

“You’re welcome Harry, sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

She stayed with him for three more years-helping him in his fourth year-when he’d been forced to go through the tri-wizard tournament. “I cant believe they’d make you go through it!” (y/n) ranted as Harry got ready for the first task-going against a dragon. “I mean-you’re only fourteen-they updated the age rule for a bloody reason!”

Harry was quiet, his hand shaking as he clipped together the front of his sport robes. (y/n) saw as such and sighed, moving to hover in front of Harry. “it’ll be okay kid, you’re smart-you’ve practiced the summoning charm for your broom, and you’re a wicked flyer. If you can catch a snitch with your mouth, you can get a fake egg.” (y/n) said and Harry smiled weakly.

He managed to complete the first task, and the second. The third was the worst, because it ended with him in a graveyard with Cedric, and his scar beginning to hurt.

“Harry-go now!” (y/n) yelled, having followed him through every task, her eyes going over towards a grave that went into the ground, Harry was trying to tell Cedric they should go but Wormtail killed Cedric and pinned Harry to the Riddle family tombstone statue-the statue of death holding Harry tight.

“It’s him,” (y/n) growled, her visage becoming terrifying to Harry for the first time as black tears actively poured from her eyes, her white glowing eyes becoming thin dots as Voldemort was reborn.

The reborn dark wizard didn’t even get a moment-(y/n) appeared before him-letting out a high-pitched scream that shook both Harry and Voldemort's heads. “No! I thought you were gone!” Voldemort yelled back, swinging at the vengeful ghost but she caught his arm-bearing her teeth at him-Wormtail couldn’t see her-only seeing his master swinging and yelling at something that wasn’t there.

“YOU WILL DIE!” (y/n) screeched at Voldemort, her hand grabbing at his throat, forcing him away from Harry. “I’LL MAKE SURE OF IT!” Voldemort snarled back-falling to the ground with the vengeful ghost atop him-deep scratches appearing on his face with no origin-at least to Wormtail.

Harry used this as a chance to slip out of the grip of the statue, toppling over himself before finding his wand and getting to Cedric-summoning the Triwizard cup and portkeying back to Hogwarts.

(y/n) didn’t come back with him, once more haunting Voldemort.

He hated it, the last 13 years spent as a wraith had been almost blissful without the spirit of his first victim  haunting him, he had fitfully assumed she had moved on-assuming he died. He was stupid to think that, she knew of his Horcruxes, he had made them in front of her after all.

“Would you just go away?” Voldemort hissed at (y/n) who glared back, more like an annoying pest instead of a vengeful silent spirit. “No.” (y/n) hissed back, following him through the Malfoy manor. Voldemort sneered at her and she tripped him-right in front of Lucius.

“My lord?” Lucius squeaked out in fear as Voldemort got back on his feet, Nagini and Lucius staring at him in…mostly concern. “I’m fine.” Voldemort hissed, glaring at (y/n) who was floating behind Lucius, snickering. “ignore what just happened. It didn’t happen.” Voldemort said, pointing his finger at Lucius who nodded, quickly leaving the corridor.

“Stop humiliating me in front of my followers,” Voldemort demanded, Lucius hearing him talk to…nothing just before he was out of earshot. “No. It’s funny. You deserve it.” (y/n) sneered, snickering as Voldemort sent the torture curse at her, it went right through her, hitting the wall behind her and marking the wallpaper. “Really?” she drawled, following him again as he let out a frustrated huff and continued on his way through the halls.

“You. are a pest.” Voldemort hissed at her, going into his room-allowing Nagini to slither in before closing the door, attempting to do so in (y/n)’s face but she just phased through.

“Do you want me to be worse? How about the nightmares again, or keeping you up all night, or making you seem insane to all your little friends? Huh?” (y/n) said with an intense stare and wild grin, getting in Voldemort’s face. He glared at her, flinching at the feeling of her acid tears dripping on his face again, a feeling he never got used to-even after 50+ years of it.

“Move on. I wont die. Not this time-Harry Potter will die by my hand, and you’ll watch.” Voldemort hissed and (y/n)’s wild grin turned to a near-feral snarl, grabbing his face-filling his mind with horrific death scenarios, torturing him with his worst fear once again.

“Release me!” Voldemort roared, attempting to shake (y/n) off-but she did not let go. She’d never let go. “No. I will hold onto you, I will make you suffer through the rest of your days, I will make you regret this path. I will make sure you die.” (y/n) said, glaring down at Voldemort, refusing to release his mind.

-

She continued to make Voldemort look pathetic in front of his followers, humiliating him as well. Tripping him, making him slam his face into his food, flinging his robes up over his head, only sneering back at him with every rage filled scream he aimed at her. She was ruining his image, they all thought their master was going insane-unaware of the vengeful ghost that haunted him, a spirit only Voldemort, Nagini, and Harry could see.

Voldemort attempted to exorcise her or banish her from him many times-but she held strong, clinging to his soul to torture him like a persistent parasite, haunting him at every moment, once more haunting his nightmares-making him relive his death again and again, along with filling his nightmares about a second death-no horcruxes to save him, and Harry Potter killing him.

He was going utterly insane. He was losing sleep again, unable to focus-his plans becoming sloppy. He needed (y/n) gone, but he knew he couldn’t force her to leave, she was going to be haunting him until he died.

So, as he laid on the grounds of Hogwarts, his Horcruxes destroyed and his life draining-she stood over him, staring blankly again, black tears dripping onto his face. she knelt over him, tilting her head ever so slightly, then grinning, black blood staining her teeth. “Die.”

-end-

[wwereaderinserts]

Hey @wwereaderinserts you think you could do that with Damian Priest and Rhea Ripley NSFW alphabet too?

Please 🙏🏾💗

So I've gone ahead and done the whole alphabet for this one and I chose Priest, though I did find doing the whole thing a little overwhelming so I will say that going forward I will do one character and 5 letters at a time per request.

NSFW under the cut, MINORS DNI.

NSFW Alphabet with Damian Priest

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) He doesn’t even think about himself after sex until he knows for sure that you’re completely satisfied and taken care of. He’ll check in and ask if it was okay for you or if it was too much for you at all. He’ll hold you afterwards if that’s what you want from him, too.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) On himself, his hands. It doesn’t matter if he’s just running his hands over your skin or groping certain parts of you, he loves the feel of your body under them and how good he knows he can make you feel with them. On you, it’s a tie between your ass and chest. He loves grabbing a handful of your ass during sex if he can, but he also can’t restrain himself from marking your chest up either.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He prefers to finish inside you, but if you don’t want him to do that, his second choices would be on your lower back or chest/stomach depending on positions.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He’s definitely dominant during sex, but he has this fantasy of you tying him to the bed and taking your time with him, letting you take control of the reins just for once. You both tried it one time and you used handcuffs. Somewhere in all the excitement, you misplaced the key and couldn’t find it anywhere after you two were done. He was cuffed there for about an hour and a half while you were pulling up videos on your phone to try figuring out how you could fully get him out of the cuffs. After that whole debacle, you both decided to stick to ropes for the foreseeable.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Oh he knows exactly what he’s doing, he’s very experienced. He could actually probably even show you a few things.

F = Favorite position The crab. He likes having you on top in general, but there’s something even more special about watching you spread your legs wider for him in this position so he can watch himself moving in and out of you. Being able to see just how much he’s splitting you open does it for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) He knows how to have a laugh in the moment, of course, so he’s not strictly serious, but this man also means business. He’s not satisfied until your legs are shaking and you’re completely fucked out.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) He definitely keeps it well maintained down there. Trimmed rather low, maybe even clean shaven if the mood takes him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He can be rather intimate at times if it’s not just a quickie. There’s near constant eye contact, he’s whispering sweet nothings in your ear, kissing you so passionately to the point of taking your breath away.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Even before you got together, it wasn’t really all that frequent, so nothing has really changed there. He can go for a fair amount of time without because he’d rather get all his pent up energy out when he gets the chance to be with you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Knife play. He’s not above taking one from his collection of weapons to use on you, not to scratch or anything more than that, but just for you to feel the sensation of it against your skin if he’s not using it to rip your underwear off. If he cools it off or heats it up slightly too? Whole different ball game from that sensation. Though if that’s a definite no from you, he’s not going to try convincing you to try it at all and he respects that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Prefers keeping things private in the setting of your home or your hotel room if you’re on the road, but he’s not against finding a secluded spot and going for it with you in the car either if neither of you can wait any longer.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) If he’s not totally beat after a long day, being upfront with him about what you want and that it’s him who you want it from is enough to get him going, whether it’s telling him directly or him walking in on you, spread out, ready and waiting there for him. Nine times out of ten, this man is gonna pounce.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) He’s pretty open minded, but he’d never do anything that you didn’t want to do or anything that crosses your boundaries, nor would he hurt you in any way.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He likes receiving too, but he’s giving for his pleasure as well as your own. Give this man the chance to bury his face between your thighs and it’s like something snaps inside him, and he can’t get enough.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) It depends on what mood he’s in. If it’s a quickie or if it’s been a while and he can’t wait to have you, he’s fast and a little rough with it. But if you two have the time to yourselves, he’s taking it slow and sensual with you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He doesn’t mind them. He’d much rather be able to take his time with you, but he won’t turn down the opportunity for one if you’re also up for it. Even though it’s just a quickie, he’ll still leave you utterly satisfied.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He’s up to experiment a little bit if you are, though there probably isn’t much left that he hasn’t already tried at this point.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He knows how to pace himself, so he easily has two rounds in him at the very least which last quite a while.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He doesn’t personally own any himself, but he’s more than willing to use yours on you if you own any. He’s not opposed to them at all, he finds that it makes things even more fun.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He does like to tease a fair bit. He likes you pent up and begging for him. It makes all the build up all the more satisfying when you fully get your hands on each other that way.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) He’s more of a grunter and a groaner, but you’ll be able to drag the odd moan out of him as well. He gets quite vocal too and he 100% will talk you through it, praises you, asks you how it feels, tells you that you’re taking him well, etc.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He might be a little obsessed with the size difference between you both…in many ways. He loves the way he towers over you, the way you drown in his shirts when you slip one on, how his hands dwarf yours, the way he can easily overpower you in bed, how you struggle to take all of him sometimes…the list goes on.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) He’s a big boy. He’s on the thicker side, and his length isn’t anything to turn your nose up at either, so it’s probably a little intimidating to look at first off. I’d say he’s probably 7 inches in length at the very least. Has a few prominent veins and curves slightly to the right.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) It’s not ridiculously high. He can survive without his fill of you for a little bit if you’re both busy, but he definitely doesn’t take much convincing to get down to it and it’s usually him that’s the instigator.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He’ll intentionally stay awake for a bit, just to make sure that you don’t need anything else from him at all. Even then, he doesn’t fall asleep easily after sex, unless you absentmindedly play with his hair while you two are cuddling together afterwards

[ppyopulii]

maestro’s muse 💿 interview no. 13

PREVIEW. Has HYBEHAX always been this… unserious?

FEATURING. lee jihoon x gn!reader, various non-idol!hybe groups & reader GENRE(S). coming of age, fluff, some angst WC. 2.2k CONTENT WARNINGS. soonyoung is chaotic. & i guess one (1) curse word

JAY’S MUSINGS. prologue (part two) for maestro’s muse, the series. not every part will be written in screenplay, just like how not every part will be written in smau format, just like how not every part will be written in prose, etc etc... just havin’ fun writing (: enjoy!

www.hybehax.tech/interview

THE INTERVIEW FADE IN.

A cozy dorm room lined with comforting trinkets. The digital clock sitting on a neatly stacked shelf indicates it's almost half past seven o'clock. It’s quiet in the shared bedroom, and YOU (college freshman, music fanatic, prospective HYBEHAX organizer) sit at the desk, nervously tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth.

A monitor shows the join feature of a Zoom call. YOU stare back at yourself through the small camera screen displayed.

There’s a soft ping from a notification. A pause, and then YOU take a deep breath and click the join button.

On the screen, SEUNGCHEOL (college junior, President of HYBEHAX, mutual acquaintance of YOU) smiles at you from his impressive HD face-cam.

SEUNGCHEOL Hello, we’ll get started in just a minute. Soonyoung is having some difficulty logging on.

Shuffling noises sound from another screen. JIHOON (college sophomore, Internal Vice President of HYBEHAX, music theory classmate of YOU) grumbles under his breath.

JIHOON (irritated) You’d think with this being his thirteenth interview he’d have gotten the hang of it now.

SEUNGCHEOL (warning) Jihoon.

JIHOON mumbles a sorry and mutes. A minute passes and SOONYOUNG (college sophomore, External Vice President of HYBEHAX, friend of YOU) pops up on-screen, face grainy from bad internet.

SOONYOUNG Hi! Nice to see you!

YOU (warmly) Hey, Soonyoung. Still doing alright in your math classes?

SOONYOUNG (groaning) Not the same without you, man. You actually carried me through calculus.

YOU Aren’t you just in business statistics now? How hard can that be?

SOONYOUNG Don’t ask.

There’s a few coughs from SEUNGCHEOL. Conversation dies down and SEUNGCHEOL moves his camera to center himself on screen.

SEUNGCHEOL Alright, hello and welcome to your HYBEHAX organizer interview! Thank you for taking the time to apply; we were impressed by your application. Now that we’re here, think of this as a time for us to get to know each other, and for you to ask us any questions you have.

SOONYOUNG (interjecting) It’s really lowkey, don’t worry.

SEUNGCHEOL clicks his tongue. SOONYOUNG giggles and mutes.

SEUNGCHEOL We’ll start with a round of introductions. I’m Choi Seungcheol, a rising senior and double major in computer science and mathematics. I’m also the current President of HYBEHAX. I run pretty much… everything? Let’s see… uh, I’ve been an organizer of HYBEHAX since I was a sophomore, but I’ve been involved with hackathons since I was fifteen. I actually remember trying to code my first project in that 24-hour period. Even though I barely had any idea what I was doing, all the organizers and my teammates were so nice. Made me feel really welcomed.

YOU (smiling from ear-to-ear) Fifteen? That’s some serious dedication, I respect it. What drew you to want to be HYBEHAX’s President?

SEUNGCHEOL’s lips part in an ‘o’, like he’s surprised YOU asked a question.

SEUNGCHEOL Well… I guess you can say I’ve grown attached? The people that I’ve met and grown with through HYBEHAX have really made my college years worth it. That, and I want to be able to keep organizing a space that made me feel as safe as I did as a kid.

YOU Yeah, I understand. That’s really admirable, congratulations!

SEUNGCHEOL Thank you, that means a lot. I really hope I can continue to make this upcoming hackathon worthwhile to attend, especially since it’ll be my last year being an organizer.

SOONYOUNG unmutes.

SOONYOUNG And it’s our 10th year!

SEUNGCHEOL (laughing, albeit stressed) Yeah, that too. Ah… how could I forget?

A tense silence falls on the four. YOU shift your focus to SOONYOUNG to alleviate the tension.

YOU Wanna introduce yourself next?

SOONYOUNG Oh! Yeah, I can. You already know me, but I’m Soonyoung, EVP of HYBEHAX. I manage all the external affairs, like talking to building managers for renting and university officials for fundings of our hackathon. I’ve been organizing for awhile too, like Cheol-hyung, and I’m super excited for this year!

YOU (joking) You, trusted with money?

SOONYOUNG (mock offense) Yah, I’m literally a business major!

YOU Yeah yeah, whatever. What’s been your favorite part?

SOONYOUNG’s eyes light up.

SOONYOUNG Shopping!

YOU Shopping?

SOONYOUNG For the hackathon! I’m in charge of it.

SEUNGCHEOL (exasperated) With my card.

YOU watch JIHOON snort silently. He unmutes.

JIHOON You get reimbursed by the university, at least.

SEUNGCHEOL (sulking) But does he have to do it with my card?

SOONYOUNG You’re the president!

JIHOON rolls his eyes and scoffs good-naturedly.

JIHOON Hey, we’re in an interview right now.

SOONYOUNG (dismissively) So what? We all know them, and they know us. We worked with them last season when they were a volunteer.

YOU raise an eyebrow.

YOU Shouldn’t we at least try to maintain some formality though? Just for record’s sake?

SEUNGCHEOL …they have a point. Jihoon, go ahead and introduce yourself and we’ll actually start asking questions.

JIHOON Hi. My name is Lee Jihoon, I’ll be your Internal Vice President. Rising junior, computer science major. I work specifically on the inner-running logistics of HYBEHAX.

YOU nod and go silent at his lackluster introduction. SEUNGCHEOL chuckles.

SEUNGCHEOL Ah… Jihoon-ah is what keeps this club running. Think of him as the maestro conducting the orchestra—his back is to you but he’s secretly doing all the work.

SOONYOUNG (laughing) You’re making him sound like he does more than you.

JIHOON presses a palm to his face. His facecam slightly lags, blipping the view for a second.

SEUNGCHEOL (clearly enjoying the teasing) Well, at this point he basically does. Once I graduate he’ll be first runner up for President.

SOONYOUNG grins. His camera goes slightly out of focus as he rocks back and forth in his chair.

YOU Well, it’s nice to meet you Jihoon.

JIHOON Likewise.

There’s a beat of silence as YOU and JIHOON stare each other down via webcam. His gaze is sharp, meticulous. Yours is relaxed with a hint of a smile.

SOONYOUNG So formal. Why don’t you go next?

YOU Alright… hi everyone! Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I’m a computer science major with a focus in front-end development, but I hope career-wise to go into front-end regarding data science. I was a volunteer this past fall for HYBEHAX and I really loved helping with the event, so I want to try my hand at organizing this year.

SOONYOUNG You were running around like crazy during the event. I think I saw you like, twice?

YOU (laughing awkwardly) Yeah… the last Marketing Team lead kind of recruited me. I ran around with them a lot getting pictures.

SEUNGCHEOL (amused) I specifically remember you during the welcoming speech. The President and I were trying to talk into the mic and you kept telling us to move slightly to the left ‘cause it looked better on camera that way.

YOU Hey! Because of me we had great shots. We can use these for marketing this time around.

SOONYOUNG Oh? You sure you don’t wanna be a part of Marketing Team?

YOU Oh, hell no. 

SEUNGCHEOL and SOONYOUNG burst into laughter. The corner of JIHOON’s lips crack open to reveal a small smile.

SEUNGCHEOL Relax, the Marketing Team Lead from last year left. Our Lead this year will be a lot better.

YOU Glad to hear that.

SEUNGCHEOL Are there any questions you have for us before we get into the specifics of your role?

YOU No, not that I can think of.

SEUNGCHEOL Sounds good! If there are any questions you have along the way, feel free to ask.

SOONYOUNG (raising his hand, not unlike a too-excited kid in school) I have a question!

Metaphorical lights dim. YOU fidget with the hem of your shirt. JIHOON bites his lip to fight a smirk.

JIHOON Yah, you’re the EVP, not Pres.

SEUNGCHEOL (skeptically) No, go ahead Soonyoung.

SOONYOUNG What made you choose Design Team instead of Tech? You’re a CS major, aren’t you?

YOU smile, as if expecting this question.

YOU I did briefly mention this in my application, but I feel like the integration between the arts and technology is so important to cherish and understand these days. Bridging that gap between two worlds that are seemingly unrelated is what I want to do—technology can be used to create art, and art can be used to create technology. It’s all relative, I feel.

JIHOON nods along appreciatively to your words. SEUNGCHEOL is listening intently.

SEUNGCHEOL As an organizer, you’re expected to specialize in your team’s work. You, on the other hand, have experience in multiple aspects—marketing, tech, design. Like Soonyoung said, we all saw how hard-working you were last season as a volunteer. We’d love for you to join us as a proper organizer for our 10th year.

YOU Thank you, that's very sweet of you. I'd be honored!

SOONYOUNG Oh, right. You said you’d be interested in being a Team Lead, too—are you still interested in that?

YOU Yeah, I think it would be fun. What specifically does Design Team Lead do?

SOONYOUNG You’ll be in charge of designating tasks to the members. Last season we only had, um, one member on Design Team. It was a lot and incredibly overwhelming and they quit. Understandably. So having someone who oversees everything would be preferable.

SEUNGCHEOL Yep, things like the sponsorship packet that goes out to sponsors, merchandise for the organizers and participants—those tasks wouldn’t necessarily be completed by you, but you would be in charge of making sure they’re getting done on time and in a professional manner.

YOU That sounds doable. If I’m being honest, I’d feel better managing tasks. I feel like I’d be pressured a lot to go above and beyond if I was just a regular organizer.

JIHOON Do you have experience in leadership?

YOU Only a little bit, but I’m definitely open to learning more, of course. I lead an outreach organization for my scholarship program.

SEUNGCHEOL (nodding along) Impressive.

SOONYOUNG We can call it, right? They’ll be our new Design Team Lead?

YOU Hey, I’d be down if you guys are down. This interview is more relaxing than I thought; barely even one at this point too.

JIHOON (shrugging) Only because we know you from the previous season.

YOU smile at him and JIHOON breaks eye contact.

YOU Question.

SEUNGCHEOL Yeah, what's up?

YOU Has HYBEHAX always been this… unserious?

SOONYOUNG Yes—

SEUNGCHEOL, JIHOON (simultaneously) No.

YOU Well. Glad to join the team anyways.

SOONYOUNG excitedly claps his hands. His screen lags.

SOONYOUNG Does that mean it’s a yes?!

YOU ‘Course. Anything for my calc buddy.

The man pumps a fist into the air and his webcam freezes. JIHOON audibly sighs.

JIHOON We’ll send you the contract via email soon. It just goes over more generalized rules about being an organizer—attending weekly meetings, making sure you keep up with your team, the usual.

SEUNGCHEOL Happy to have you!

YOU Thank you guys so much. I’ll be sure to not disappoint!

SOONYOUNG’s frames cut back into view. He’s peering at the camera and making gibberish noises.

SOONYOUNG Hello? Hell-oo? Can you guys hear me?

JIHOON (mumbling to himself) …and this is why he’s the EVP and not on Tech Team.

SEUNGCHEOL (exasperated fondness) Yes, Soonyoung, we can hear you.

SOONYOUNG Awesome! We’ll send you the paperwork right away so you can officially become an organizer!

JIHOON I already said that.

SOONYOUNG pouts and begins to whine, to which JIHOON huffs at. SEUNGCHEOL forcibly mutes them both.

SEUNGCHEOL

Anyway, I’ll also send you the Discord link to the server with the contract. That’s our main way of communication. As for the contract, it’s a PDF—you can sign it by like, opening it up in Adobe and using the pen tool. No need for fancy formalities.

YOU (laughing) Alright, sounds good. Thank you guys again for this opportunity!

SOONYOUNG is making cringey aegyo hearts at his camera. Your laptop begins to whirr softly from overheating.

SEUNGCHEOL Thank you for being interested in joining us. Details about our first meeting will be out soon. See you then, okay?

YOU See you then! Have a good night!

SEUNGCHEOL beams at YOU. YOU note his barely there dimple and fight back a smile.

On the other hand, JIHOON types a ‘Have a good night, thank you’ before promptly leaving the call. SOONYOUNG waves goodbye for an eternity before being kicked off by SEUNGCHEOL.

YOU wave and press the leave button. The call drops and your laptop quiets down. It’s suddenly silent in the bedroom, and YOU let out a yawn as YOU stretch your arms above your head.

YOU Welp. Design Team Lead, here I come.

FADE OUT. END.

[moonriizing]

invisible string | s.jy (18+)

Less than a month before your wedding, you answered a call from someone who introduced himself as Jay Park—the exact name of the man you believed to be your soulmate. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you embark on a trip to Italy to meet him, believing that it is fate’s way of telling you to fulfill your destiny.

Genre: destination au, mistaken identity, smut Pairing: Sim Jaeyun/Jake Sim x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), MDNI, lying Notes: 21k words. Loosely based on the 1994 film, Only You. I noticed that long fics are uncommon in 5th gen fics here on Tumblr, but I'm shooting my shot with this one. I hope you like it! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally nor claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol, that is me. lol xoxo, cal.

Enjoy~

The flickering candlelight shone on your faces as you, your sister, and Katie huddled around the Ouija board, the air cold from the summer storm raging outside your house. A shot glass, upside down and resting on the board, was the only thing standing between you and whatever spirit you had just summoned.

“Are you here?” Katie whispered, looking around slowly and nervously.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then slowly, unnervingly, the glass inched toward YES.

You all yelped, immediately shushing each other. “Keep your hands on the glass!” your sister hissed, eyes wide. “If we let go, the spirit might get mad.”

Your fingers clung to the glass tighter, your pulse hammering in your throat. Katie exhaled sharply. “Okay, okay. Um… what’s your name?”

The glass trembled beneath your fingertips, dragging across the board. J. Then O. Then N.

“Jon?” you echoed.

“Jonathan?” Katie guessed.

Your sister shushed you both again, her face serious. “Don't interrupt. It might stop talking.”

A chill ran down your spine. You weren’t sure if it was from the candle’s wavering light or the idea that there really was something with you in the room, something unseen but present.

One by one, you and Katie took turns asking questions—How did you die? Are you a good spirit? Will we be rich someday?—each answer making you shriek, then dissolve into nervous giggles. But when the laughter faded, the heavy silence that followed always felt chilling.

Then, feeling reckless, feeling thirteen, you blurted out the one question that had been on your mind for years. “Who’s my soulmate?”

Katie gasped. Your sister shot you a look. “Are you sure you wanna ask that?”

But the glass had already started moving. It slid to J. Then to A. Then to Y.

You barely breathed as you read the letters aloud. “Jay…”

A rush of excitement fluttered in your stomach, getting more nervous. “Do you know his last name?”

The glass stilled for a second. Then it moved again. P. A. R. K.

“Jay Park,” you whispered. You repeated the name to yourself, the way it rolled off your tongue, the way it already felt right. Destiny had spoken. The universe had handed you a name, a direction, a soulmate. And from that night on, you chased it.

You had a comfortable life—a good job, a cozy home, loyal friends, and Sunghoon, your kind, dependable boyfriend. He’d proposed a year into your relationship. Your family adored him, your friends admired him, and you felt… happy, for the most part.

But something was off. The thought of marrying him felt too easy, like a decision you were supposed to want, yet couldn't fully commit to. After the proposal, you confided in Katie, admitting you weren’t sure if you loved him enough to take that step.

“It’s not the right time yet,” you lied, knowing it wasn’t time that was the problem. You loved the idea of stability, the way Sunghoon made everything seem simple, like life would follow a clear, predictable path. But something about that terrified you more than it comforted you.

“Maybe you’re just scared,” Katie had said. “But he’s a good guy, and he loves you. You should talk to him.”

You hadn’t, though. Instead, you bottled it up, relieved that Sunghoon hadn’t told anyone about the proposal yet. You said you’d think about it, and that’s all you’d done for the last few days.

Now, lying in his bed, his arm wrapped around you, you tried to picture forever. It should’ve felt comforting, but it didn’t.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

“Yeah. I was just thinking about us,” you replied, almost in a whisper.

His voice fell when he spoke, and guilt twisted inside you. “I know it’s sudden. If you’re not ready, I understand.”

“No, I’m fine. Let’s do it,” you replied briskly, smiling at him and hiding the fact that you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I don’t want to force this on you.”

Your dearest Sunghoon—so gentle and thoughtful. You forced another smile. “I’m sure, Hoon. Let’s get married.”

The warmth of Sunghoon’s presence should reassure you, but instead, it felt like a tether pulling you further into something you didn’t know how to escape. When he kissed your forehead, you wished you could love him the way he deserved—but the words 'Let’s get married' tasted hollow, even as you forced yourself to say it.

Days passed quickly, and suddenly, the wedding was just twenty days away. The venue, guest list, and reception were all set—only the invitations and the final dress remained. Your mother pushed for a custom gown, but you insisted on RTW, wanting at least one decision to be entirely yours.

At the boutique, Katie and your sister helped you pick dresses. It was fun at first, but with every gown you tried on, the unease in your stomach deepened.

“Okay! This is the tenth one,” your sister called, and as you stepped out, the room fell silent and everyone had their hands over their mouth. 

Curious, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sure enough, you even ended up gasping at the beautiful image reflected back to you. The dress was perfect—elegant, breathtaking. It fit like a dream, like it belonged to someone sure of what they wanted.

“You look stunning!” Katie gushed, hugging you.

Your sister teared up. “My baby sister is getting married!”

But as you stared at yourself, the lace felt suffocating. Your stomach churned. The boutique walls seemed to close in. Your breath turned shallow, ragged. Panic gripped your chest. Then the room began to spin, forcing you to close your eyes.

“Excuse me,” you muttered, pushing past them. You barely made it to the sink before throwing up.

Katie and your sister rushed in after you. “Are you okay?” Katie asked, concern etched in her face.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” your sister blurted.

“No, of course not,” you said, shaking your head. Your hand instinctively touched the implant in your arm, reassuring yourself it was still there. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh, dear,” your sister sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you stepped out of the restroom. “It’s the stress, isn’t it?”

She might have been right. Stress often manifests this way for you. But they didn’t ask again until you were sitting at a nearby coffee shop, sipping a citrus drink to calm your nausea.

“You’re still not sure about this, are you?” Katie asked gently.

You hesitated and they could see it in your eyes. “What’s bothering you?” your sister asked softly.

You sighed. “I don’t know if I’m overthinking or if I really just don’t want this.”

Your sister’s gaze softened. “If you need more time, take it.”

“It’s not time,” you admitted. “It’s him. I love Sunghoon, but I never pictured us getting married. Now that it’s happening, it all feels… wrong.”

Your sister’s expression turned serious. “Then don’t. It’s not just nerves if it doesn’t feel right.”

Katie took your hand. “Talk to him. Whatever happens, choose what makes you happy.”

You promised them that you would, but you couldn’t. Not when you came home to him smiling brightly at you, kissing you tenderly and holding you in his arms as warmly as he always did.

The next day at the office, you were in your boss’s office to get some paperwork signed when the secretary’s phone started ringing. You ignored it at first, knowing it wasn’t your job to answer. But after the third ring, you picked it up, just in case.

“Mr. Lee Heeseung’s office. How can I help you?”

“Hi. Is Heeseung there? He’s not picking up his cell, and I need to talk to him urgently,” came a clear voice on the other end.

You grabbed a pen and pad. “He’s out for lunch right now, probably left his phone behind. But I can pass on the message.”

“That’ll work. Thanks.”

“No problem. Can I get your name, so I can let him know who called?”

“Jay Park. Just tell him I need to chat.”

You froze, fingers tightening around the receiver. “Sorry—what was your name again?”

“Jay. Jay Park.”

The name echoed in your head like a spell conjured straight from the past. Jay Park. Your Jay Park. The one the Ouija board had spelled out ten years ago. The name you had whispered to yourself on sleepless nights, half-laughing at the absurdity of believing in it, half-wishing it meant something.

Somewhere along the way, you had let it fade. You had convinced yourself it was just a childhood whim. But now—out of nowhere—he was real. On the other end of this call.

“Jay Park,” you repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

“Uh… yeah?” He sounded mildly amused. “Listen, I was supposed to meet Heeseung, but I overslept, and now I’ve got a plane to catch. Can you let him know I called?”

“A plane?” you asked, gripping the receiver tighter. “Where are you going?”

“The airport,” he replied casually. “Heading to Venice.”

“Venice?!” you blurted, trying to figure out how far Venice was from where you were. You didn’t know for sure, but you knew it was very far.

He chuckled, probably at your stunned silence. “I know. It’s a shame we couldn’t meet, but unavoidable. Anyway, gotta run. Can I count on you?”

Don’t go yet. “No,” you blurted before quickly correcting yourself. “I mean, yes. Yes, of course.”

“Cool. Thanks a lot. Bye.”

“No. Wait—” But the call had already ended, and all that ever made it back to you was the beeping tone of the call being hung up.

You lowered the phone onto the desk, your hands trembling. Then, in a single breath, you dropped your folder onto Heeseung’s desk and sprinted out of the office.

By the time you reached your own desk, you had already dialed Katie. She picked up after two rings.

“I found him!” you burst out.

“Who?” she asked, sounding distracted.

“Jay Park!”

She paused, then said, “Remind me how I know a Jay Park?”

“Jay Park! The guy from the Ouija board!” you practically shouted, adrenaline coursing through you.

A beat passed before her excited squeal echoed through the phone. “Wait. You’re telling me you found your soulmate Jay Park?”

“Yes! He’s friends with my boss, and he’s heading to Italy—right now!”

“Italy? Why Italy?”

“I don’t know!” you squealed, pacing wildly. Your heart was racing, your skin tingling, your mind whirring in a thousand directions. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. When you spoke again, your voice was steadier, but the conviction was the same.

“Katie… I think this is it. The sign. I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Oh my god. Girl, no,” she deadpanned.

“Katie, my dearest friend, we have been through everything together.”

“Yes, and you are not an impulsive person. Don’t start now.”

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had spent your whole life making careful, rational choices. Always choosing the safe, predictable path. And now, standing on the edge of something wildly uncertain, the thought of staying still terrified you more than the thought of running.

“I love you. I’m going to Venice.”

“Wait—”

You hung up, hands shaking as you pulled up flight tickets. The screen loaded painfully slowly, your pulse hammering with every passing second. Maybe this was insane. Maybe you were making the biggest mistake of your life. But something about this just felt right.

But maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what you were meant to do.

dion2

When you were thirteen, you played Ouija with your sister and Katie during a blackout. It was supposed to be just for fun, but when you asked the board for your soulmate’s name, the glass moved—spelling out Jay Park.

As a teenager, you half-believed it. Enough to spend hours searching the internet for a Jay Park that felt like your Jay Park. There were plenty, but what were you supposed to say? Hey, a spirit spelled out your name on my Ouija board. Are we soulmates? It was ridiculous. Katie had laughed at you then, telling you that if it was fate, you wouldn’t have to search—he’d find you eventually.

Now, pacing around her living room, you pointed at her dramatically. “This is it, Kate. The moment you were talking about! I forgot all about him, and now, just when I’m questioning everything, he appears.”

Katie watched you with her arms crossed, unimpressed. “This is madness.”

You stopped mid-step, the playful grin slipping as you turned to her. “I know.” Your voice was quieter now, more uncertain. “But what if this is my chance?”

She sighed, giving you a long, hard look, clearly hoping you’d snap out of it. But when you didn’t, she exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. But I’m coming with you. I’m not letting you run off to Europe alone for some random guy.”

Joy burst through you, and before she could change her mind, you threw your arms around her. “Good! Great! We’re going to Venice!”

Katie groaned. “I hate you already.”

Later that evening, you came home to find Sunghoon lounging on the couch, feet propped up, half-asleep in front of the TV. He looked up when you walked in, his face lighting up as he beckoned you over. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Crazy. How was yours?”

He exhaled dramatically. “Oh, you would not believe it. First, I had to assist a seven-hour surgery where the patient suddenly went into cardiac arrest, and while we were reviving him, the head neurosurgeon decided it was the perfect time to grill me about my suturing technique—because, you know, that’s obviously what matters when a guy’s flatlining on the table.”

Your eyes widened. “What the—?”

“Oh, it gets better,” he cut in, shifting so he could see your face properly. “After that, I went to the university to teach a class of third-years, and right in the middle of my lecture, one of the students passed out—just full-on face-planted onto the desk. Turns out he was pulling three all-nighters in a row, living off nothing but caffeine and biscuits. Poor kid woke up to me standing over him and thought he had died and I was some kind of angel.”

You burst into laughter. “No way.”

“I swear.” He nodded solemnly. 

“You do look like an angel though,” you mused, kissing his cheek.

“I spent half an hour convincing him that no, he was not dead, and yes, he should consider eating a proper meal from now on.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “Okay, that’s insane.”

“Not as insane as yours, I bet,” he said, his smile softening as he studied your face. “What happened?”

Your laughter faded as nerves twisted in your stomach. You’d rehearsed this conversation a dozen times on the way home, bracing yourself for anger or heartbreak. But when you turned off the TV and faced him, you saw only warmth in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you started softly, “and I would never want you to think you deserved anything less than the best. But… I don’t think I can marry you, Sunghoon.”

For a moment, silence settled between you. Then, to your surprise, he let out a quiet breath and cupped your cheek. “I know.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. “You do?” you whispered.

He nodded. “I’ve known since the moment I asked you.”

“How?”

He took a deep breath and kissed your knuckles. “Because it wasn’t just you. I’ve felt it too—this… feeling that something wasn’t right. I kept brushing it off, thinking maybe I was just overthinking things, but then I saw it in you too. And I realized, no matter how perfect we seemed, something was missing.”

Your throat tightened. “Oh, baby…” You curled into him, pressing your face against his shoulder.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I know that for sure. And I kept hoping that if I proposed, that strange feeling in my gut would go away.”

“Did it?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

“It got worse.”

A shaky laugh escaped you. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Sunghoon exhaled, his fingers brushing your hair. “I don’t regret us. Not for a second. But I think we both deserve more than just… settling.”

You nodded, blinking back tears. “I love you, Sunghoon.”

“Just not enough to spend the rest of your life with me,” he finished for you.

Your silence was answer enough. His lips pressed against your forehead, lingering there, before he pulled back with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry I asked,” he said. “It wasn’t fair to you.”

“I’m sorry I let it get this far,” you admitted. “I almost dragged you into an unhappy marriage.”

His expression softened. “I wouldn’t have been unhappy with you. I just… would have always felt like something was missing.”

“Yeah.” You swallowed hard. “Me too.”

For a long moment, you just sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing this was one of the last times you would. It was strange, how love could still be there—real and warm—but not enough to hold you together.

Sunghoon let out a slow breath. “So… what do we do now?”

You told Sunghoon you were going to Italy with Katie for some soul-searching, leaving out the part where the ‘soul’ you were searching for might actually be your soulmate. He only nodded, telling you to have fun, and after a calm discussion, you both decided not to call off the engagement just yet—only to cancel the wedding date.

A part of you ached at the thought of what you were leaving behind, but another part felt relieved. You weren’t wrong. This wasn’t where you were meant to be. So that night, you held onto Sunghoon, whispering sweet nothings into the darkness, both of you pretending this wasn’t the beginning of the end.

The next morning, he drove you and Katie to the airport. There were no dramatic goodbyes, no messy emotions, just an exchange of quiet I love you’s that somehow felt like a farewell. He pulled you in for one last hug and a small kiss on your temple.

As you walked away, you resisted the urge to turn around, knowing he was still watching. And as the plane lifted off, a thrill surge through you, something unfamiliar and intoxicating. Fear. Freedom. Possibilities.

Whatever it was, you knew there was no turning back now.

The flight to Italy was long, but you didn’t feel tired at all. Instead, you were giddy, filled with excitement about searching for your soulmate. Your boss had called your story ‘mental’ when you told him, but he still gave you Jay’s Instagram, warning you that Jay mostly kept to himself and rarely used electronics.

“Why do you think he loves Italy so much? It’s the vintage charm. He goes every year,” Heeseung had explained.

You had thanked him for his help, but he waved it off, saying it was the least he could do since this was your first real vacation in the three years you’d been with the company. You even asked for a photo of Jay, but Heeseung couldn’t find one. Jay’s Instagram was just filled with landscape shots and street photography. Apparently, he does photography part-time and had been contributing to the magazine ever since its launch, but his work was mostly behind the lens, not in front of it.

“Shouldn’t you have known if a Jay Park was contributing to your magazine?” Katie had teased.

“Katie, I’m an accountant. I don’t know anything about who’s behind the production side.”

When you landed, you wasted no time pulling up Jay’s profile. A fresh post showed a hotel in Venice, and you and Katie rushed to get there. But speed was impossible in a city of canals, so you settled for soaking in the scenery, capturing snapshots as you floated past elegant bridges and centuries-old buildings.

“Whatever happens with this search, we have to go sightseeing,” Katie gushed. “It's so beautiful I could literally pass out. Look at that gargoyle sculpture thing!”

You giggled, finding it cute how easily impressed she was. A few minutes later, you arrived at the hotel and a porter helped you off the boat, carrying your luggage with a polite inquiry about where you were headed.

At the front desk, Katie immediately asked about Jay Park.

“Jay Park?” the elderly receptionist asked back. In heavily accented and broken English, he said he does not give out information about their guests.

“Look, sir,” Katie persisted, leaning in with determination. “We came all this way to see him. If you could just tell us if he’s here, that would be enough.”

You tugged at her sleeve. “Let’s just check in. His post was only an hour ago—he’s probably still here.”

“Fine,” she muttered. Then, turning back to the receptionist, she added, “But just so you know, my best friend thinks this guy is her soulmate. So, if you’re withholding information, you’re basically interfering with fate.”

“Katie!” you hissed, scanning the lobby to make sure no one overheard.

“The boatman said there are five branches of this hotel. We need to know if we’re even in the right one!” she insisted.

Just then, a smooth voice cut in. “Excuse me, ladies. May I help?”

You both turned to see a handsome Italian man watching with amusement. He had the kind of charm that made heads turn, confident but not overbearing.

“Yes, thank you!” Katie said, exhaling in relief. “Could you please tell this kind old man that my best friend’s soulmate is Jay Park, and we just need to know if he’s here?”

A flicker of amusement crossed the stranger’s face, but he dutifully translated your story to the receptionist. The two of you stood there gawking cluelessly. If he was translating for real or talking crap about you in Italian, you wouldn’t have known. You just trusted this stranger to do your work for you.

After a brief exchange, he turned to you. “It looks like Mr. Park has already left the premises.”

“Left? He was here just an hour ago,” Katie questioned.

“Indeed he was, but he left just a few minutes ago. I’m afraid you missed him.”

The receptionist said something else and the Italian stranger translated smoothly. “He stayed the night and left just after breakfast.” Then, the receptionist held up a key with a number on it, adding one last detail.

“He also said your friend is heading to Rome.”

“Rome?” you repeated, heart pounding.

The elder man nodded with a smile. “Yes, Rome.” 

You thanked them both and got ready to leave, pulling up your phone to see if Jay had a new update. But just as you were stepping out of the building, the Italian man called after you.

“Ladies!” 

You turned, and he approached with an easy smile. “I am under the impression that you need a place to stay for the night.”

You hesitated. “Thank you, but we really need to find this guy.”

“Yes, but Rome is a long way from here.” He gestured around with a flourish. “It’s Venice. Wouldn’t it be a shame to leave without seeing its beauty?”

“He’s right,” Katie said, already walking toward him. “We could use a tour. And a nice handsome local to show us around.”

They exchanged flirtatious looks, and you sighed, giving in. Maybe you could use a little break from the chase. You were tired, anyway.

Andre, as he’d introduced himself, took you on a motorboat to another hotel. The ride was short, the cool breeze skimming over the water as the city lights flickered against the rippling surface. Soon, your luggage was being hauled out of the boat and into an elegant, upscale hotel. You and Katie booked a suite with a Queen-sized bed to share, and the moment she told you to head up first, you wasted no time making a beeline for the bathroom.

A hot shower worked wonders, washing away the fatigue from the long journey. By the time you stepped out, towel-drying your hair, you found Katie sprawled on the bed, giggling at her phone.

“Where’s Andre?” you teased, eyeing her amused expression.

“Oh, he left,” she replied with a sly grin. “Said he had to take care of something at his store.”

“His store?”

“Yep. A dress shop.” She wiggled her brows. “He must be doing pretty well, ‘cause he paid for this room.”

You paused mid-step. “He paid for the room?” Katie hummed, still grinning. You raised an eyebrow. “And you just let him?” 

“It’s fine, he likes me.” She flipped onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands. “A girl shouldn’t buy her own drinks at the bar, and a lady definitely shouldn’t pay for her room in Italy.”

You snorted. “Sounds like you’re cashing in on ‘pretty privilege.’” You nudged her foot off your lap as you walked to the dresser for the hairdryer.

“Hey, his words, not mine,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out.

Rolling your eyes, you turned on the dryer, running your fingers through your damp strands. “So, has Mr. Andre invited you to dinner yet?”

“No, but,” she sing-songed, “he did say he’d be back at seven to take us to an opera house.”

“Ooh, fancy.”

“Right?” Katie wiggled her eyebrows. “You should come.”

You and Katie spent the rest of the day sightseeing, hopping from one landmark to another, filling your phone with endless snapshots of the city’s charm. You tried a variety of food that left you both stuffed but happy as you wandered through the nostalgic streets. By nightfall, Katie was dressed in a sleek black bodycon dress, ready for the opera. You clapped, approving her choice, and took a few pictures for her Instagram.

She struck a few playful poses, flashing sultry smirks and mischievous winks.

"Are you sure you don’t want to come?" she coaxed, swiping through the pictures. "It might be fun! You never know what might happen."

"I’m fine, Katie," you reassured her. "After all that walking, I’m beat. Besides, I’m sure Andre would appreciate having you all to himself tonight."

She giggled. "You're right, but I’d hate to leave you all alone."

"Just go, hun. And make sure he’s not a creep."

Katie laughed. "If he was, would you come with me?"

You made a show of heading for your suitcase. "Let me grab something nice, and I’ll join—"

"No, no!" she interrupted with a dramatic wave of her hand. "I’m a big girl. I can handle myself."

You smirked. "Seems like you’re the one who wants some alone time with him."

She giggled again, clearly unbothered. "Well, he is cute."

Shaking your head, you plopped back onto the bed, waving her off with a teasing have fun! The moment she left, you flipped on the hotel TV, settling in for a cheesy romcom. It wasn’t the most thrilling way to spend the night, but it did the job of passing the time.

Halfway through the movie, drowsiness crept in. You were just about to doze off when your phone buzzed.

Jay just posted a photo!

You shot up, tossing the remote aside. Heart pounding, you opened the app. A single image filled the screen, accompanied by a cryptic caption: “Two.”

Confused, you studied the photo—a collection of pastel dresses. When you tapped the location, your stomach sank a little. A dress shop in Rome.

“He really is in Rome,” you sighed, standing up to pack your stuff quickly. As soon as the day breaks, it’s GO time for you and Katie.

What were the odds that the dress shop Jay visited was owned by Andre? Maybe 0.10%—unless he secretly owned every boutique in Italy. But as luck would have it, he owned that specific one. Which was how you found yourself cruising to Rome in his sleek convertible, seated in the back while he and Katie shamelessly flirted in front of you.

Not that you were paying much attention—you were too busy scrolling through your phone for any updates.

“How much longer till we get there?” you asked, stretching your legs. Two hours in the car had you itching for a break, so when they pulled over by the roadside, you stepped out for some air. The road stretched endlessly ahead, mostly empty, but the surrounding scenery was breathtaking. Rolling hills, sunlit fields, and rustic vineyards—it was like something out of a postcard.

“Just thirty more minutes,” Andre replied, gesturing toward an approaching crossroad. “If we take this route, we should arrive sooner.”

Katie, who had borrowed your phone to stalk Jay’s feed, suddenly shot up from where she’d been lounging on the grass. “How much sooner?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”

“Perfect, let’s go now,” she declared, shoving the screen toward you. “Our mystery man is at this church.”

Your eyes widened as you grabbed the phone. "Two minutes ago?!"

"I know! Let’s move!"

Your heart pounded, caught between her infectious excitement and a nagging sense of guilt. Katie didn’t have to come along on this ridiculous chase, yet here she was, urging you forward like she always did. Since you were kids, she had been there through every wild idea, every leap of faith, every heartbreak—cheering you on, even when she didn’t share your beliefs about fate and love.

With Katie, you had come to understand that love in friendship was just as powerful, just as unwavering.

“Is this it?” Katie asked as the three of you stood before an imposing church.

“Yes. Basilica of St. Agnes,” Andre confirmed. “Same one in the photo.”

You compared the images, your gaze sweeping over the church’s grand façade. Even after confirming it was the right place, you couldn’t help but be awed by its sheer beauty. Tourists wandered about, snapping pictures, their voices echoing through the open square.

“Something’s off,” Andre murmured.

“What do you mean?” Katie asked.

He pointed at the entrance of the church. “It’s closed. No visitors allowed in.”

Your stomach dropped slightly. “Why?”

“I’ll go find out,” Andre said, walking off in search of an answer.

You and Katie remained where you were, scanning the crowd for any sign of Jay Park—not that you even knew what he looked like. All you had to go on was a name and a vague assumption that he was probably Asian. Yet, even as you studied every possible contender, you couldn’t make a single guess.

“If the church is closed, does that mean he never made it inside?” you asked, glancing at Katie.

“For all we know, he could’ve left ages ago,” she sighed, frustration creeping into her voice.

When Andre returned, he confirmed that the church was undergoing renovations. You longed for a break, but Katie insisted on looking around first. You humored her, even going so far as to ask random Asian men if their name was Jay Park—unsurprisingly, you had no luck.

As lunchtime approached, you finally admitted defeat and suggested heading to a nearby restaurant. Normally, pasta could lift your mood, but today, it tasted bland.

You were starting to feel like coming here was a bad idea. A part of you is still giddy for the adventure but seeing Katie made you feel like you were bothering people for something ridiculous. Even Andre, a complete stranger, had been roped into this wild search, all because of your stubborn belief in fate.

You shook your head, pushing the guilt aside. Instead of feeling like a burden, you reminded yourself to be grateful. Katie was here because she cared. And while Andre’s interest seemed to lie more with her than with you, he had stuck around too.

You ate in silence, scrolling through Jay’s feed again. His photographs were breathtaking. You wondered if he was as beautiful as the images he captured—if he was as delicate as the subjects of his photos. Did he take them at random, or was there meaning behind every frame?

As you mindlessly scrolled, something caught your eye—an old post from last year, taken in Italy.

So he really does come here every year, you realized, your heart racing.

You kept scrolling, and a pattern emerged. The very first picture from that trip was of a hotel in Venice, captioned simply, “1.” The next was a dress shop in Rome—“2.” Then the church you had just visited. The sequence continued, leading to a restaurant, also tagged in Rome. You scrolled back another two years. Different photos, same places.

“He travels in a pattern,” you blurted out.

Katie and Andre stopped mid-flirt to look at you. “Who?”

“Jay. Look at this!” You thrust your phone toward Katie, your excitement bubbling over as you explained the pattern you’d discovered. She caught on immediately.

“So if you’re right, he’ll be at this restaurant next?” she asked, her eyes shining with anticipation. You nodded confidently, feeling a surge of hope.

Katie turned the phone toward Andre. “Do you know this place?”

He read the location and nodded. “I do. It’s a local favorite, about fifteen minutes from here.”

Since it was already past lunchtime, you assumed Jay would go there for dinner. Andre confirmed that the restaurant opened at 3 PM, making it primarily a dinner spot.

After checking into a hotel downtown, you planned to rest before the evening. But you were feeling restless, and instead of lying around, you decided to explore the city. Katie offered to join, but you urged her to take a break. She didn’t argue, which only confirmed what you already knew—she preferred to spend time with Andre. Not that you minded. It was nice to see her having fun, rather than just being dragged around by your whims.

You wandered through charming streets, going in and out of shops, mostly window-shopping but picking up a few souvenirs along the way. Andre was adamant that you visit his dress shop and told you its location. He said he’d call them to let them know you were coming. You felt grateful for his help in this journey, and decided to take him up on it.

The moment you stepped inside, the staff greeted you by name. Within minutes, a few attendants gathered around, treating you with the kind of care reserved for VIP clients. As it turned out, Andre had instructed them to help you pick out something stunning for the evening.

Accepting such generosity from someone you had just met felt daunting, but you were grateful nonetheless. The staff encouraged you to choose your favorites, and you eagerly tried them on, feeling giddy at the prospect of finally meeting Jay.

An hour later, you returned to the hotel with a large box containing a dress far bolder than you’d planned. You pouted as you walked in, immediately catching sight of Andre and Katie looking cozy on the second bed of your suite.

“I really appreciate this, Andre, but why make me go through all those trouble if you were just gonna pick the dress for me anyway?” you asked, feeling both shy and exasperated.

Andre raised his hands in innocence and pointed at Katie. “It was me,” she admitted, grinning. “To be fair, you still got the dress you chose,” she added, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Yes, but not the color!” You huffed. “I almost freaked out when they insisted I take this one.”

Katie sauntered over and lifted the lid, revealing the dress inside—red satin, draped elegantly over white feathers.

It was a really nice dress. The original cream color you had chosen was soft, classic, safe. But in red? It was something else entirely. Vivid. Captivating. Sultry.

Dinnertime arrived before you knew it. Katie helped you get ready, lacing you into the dress and fussing over your makeup. You stared at your reflection, feeling nervous. The dress was daring and bold but your delicate makeup felt like it didn’t match the fire of the outfit.

“What are you talking about? You look amazing!” Katie reassured you. She grinned, adjusting the straps on your shoulders. “The goal is to get noticed, hon. Red will definitely grab his attention. And unless Jay Park is blind, you’ll be the star wherever you go tonight.”

You sat by the window of the restaurant, curiously looking around the quiet place. You are now convinced of Andre’s influence, getting you a table easily even with the long queue outside. You wondered if Jay was already here or if he was outside queueing. 

The thought crossed your mind to message him but that made your stomach twist. You had flown across the world to find him, yet the idea of actually reaching out felt more terrifying than anything else. And what would you even say?

“Hey. I followed you all the way to Italy because I think you're my soul mate.” Cringe.

For now, you were content with just catching a glimpse of him. You’d decide what to do next after that. Surely you’d know if he was the one, right? It wouldn’t be something you could explain, but it should feel right.

“Now where are you, Mr. Park?” you muttered to yourself as you refreshed his feed, heart fluttering when you found his most recent upload—a table filled with food, one that looks similar to your table. He’s here! 

Your fingers tightened around your phone as you examined the photo, scanning for any identifying details. In the corner, you spotted a glimpse of navy blue fabric—a sleeve, barely visible. You leaned back, gaze flickering around the restaurant, searching for a navy blue jacket. Several of them were dressed in similar shades, their jackets blending into the dim ambiance.

Then you looked at the picture again and wondered if instead of him, maybe it was whoever he was with. Maybe he wasn’t alone. With that thought, you could narrow down your search to tables with two people in it.

You sighed, shaking your head at yourself. “I’m a creepy stalker,” you muttered under your breath.

The waiter soon arrived with your order and you took the opportunity to ask him. “Excuse me, but… is there a Jay Park dining here tonight?”

The waiter blinked, then broke into a knowing smile. “Jay Park? Ah, Mr. Park! Yes, he’s here.”

“Are you sure it’s him?” You couldn’t help but question.

The waiter chuckled confidently, “Madam, Mr. Jay Park always makes his reservations a year in advance. He is here tonight. Right there.” He pointed toward a table halfway across the room.

You followed his gesture, and your eyes landed on two Asian men seated together. Both wore navy blue—one in a sharp suit, the other in a button-down shirt. Your breath caught in your throat, but your excitement wavered.

Which one was Jay?

You turned to ask the waiter again, but he was already walking away.

You turned to ask the waiter again, but he was already walking away. Sighing, you picked up your fork, pushing your food around your plate as you stole glances in their direction. From here, you could faintly make out their features.

The one in the suit had medium-length hair, styled in a comma hairstyle that was trendy nowadays. The other had longer hair that reached the nape of his neck. A mullet, maybe? You weren’t sure. They looked similar in build, and from the way they were seated, you couldn’t tell which one was taller.

So one of them was Jay Park. They look great, but now what?

They stayed for a while and you stayed too, mostly because you didn’t know where to go and you were hoping they’d somehow glance your way and you’d manage to take a better look at their faces. But since you only stole glances instead of flat-out staring at them the whole time, you wouldn't have known if either of them noticed you at all.

By the time you finished your fifth glass of wine, a tipsy warmth had spread through your skin. Katie had been checking in through texts, and as you lazily tapped out a response, your fingers moved a little too freely over the screen.

Katie: What do they look like? You: I’ll take a picture of them after paying.

You waved down the waiter for the bill, fumbling slightly with your bag as you reached for your card. But before you could hand it over, the waiter smiled and said, “No need, madam. Mr. Jay Park has already covered it.”

Your stomach plummeted and your head snapped toward their table, pulse racing only to find that was already empty. The chairs were neatly tucked in, the wine glasses half-finished. They were gone.

He paid for your food. He noticed you. How can he pay for your food and NOT talk to you at all? That’s just ridiculous. 

Without thinking, you bolted out of the restaurant, the cool night air hitting you like a shock. Your eyes darted wildly over the crowd, searching for navy blue amidst the crowd of tourists and locals. And then, you spotted him—the man in the suit, walking ahead in an unhurried pace.

“Hey.” you called out to him, but he was too far to hear your voice over the noise of the city. You pushed forward, weaving through people, determined to catch up.

As you did, your heel got caught in a crack in the pavement. You wobbled, nearly toppling over, cursing under your breath as you yanked at your foot. The damn shoe wouldn’t budge, and he was getting farther away, disappearing into the sea of moving figures.

“Fuck it.” you grunted, kicking your foot free, abandoning the shoe entirely as you took off barefoot, chasing after him.

The uneven pavement pricked at the soles of your feet, but you didn’t care. You ran and ran, until finally—he was gone. The streets stretched before you, unfamiliar and strange. The city surrounding you was lively, but all you could feel was the disappointment and defeat sinking into your chest.

He was right there. Just almost within reach, but you’d been too shy to approach him, now he was gone. What was the point of all this, then? Did you really come all the way here to find him, and assumed it would all magically fall into place?

Your foot throbbed where the missing shoe should have been, and that reminded you that it was a shoe your sister had gifted you. The thrill of the chase had fizzled into something hollow, leaving you standing there, lost in a city that no longer felt exciting. You felt ridiculous. Heartbroken over someone you had never even met.

With a sigh, you slumped down onto the edge of a fountain and pulled out your phone, fingers trembling as you dialed Katie. It didn’t take her long to find you.

“We were close by. What happened? Where’s your shoe?” she asked, her worried gaze sweeping over you.

You exhaled shakily. “He’s gone.”

“Who, Jay? Did you meet him?” she asked, but you shook your head, staring blankly ahead.

That’s when a man approached you, asking in Italian if you were alright. He was holding your abandoned shoe with a smile playing on his lips. Amidst the words you didn’t understand, you caught a chuckle as he referred to you as Cinderella.

“Your shoe!” Katie exclaimed at the man. “Thank you, sir! Thank you!”  she beamed, while you remained dazed.

The man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, finally, someone who speaks my tongue,” he said, kneeling beside you. “Allow me?”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, barely paying attention. He carefully pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping your foot, brushing away the dirt from your reckless chase.

“My, is that you, Prince Charming?” Katie teased, making the guy chuckle.

“You look gorgeous, by the way. Mind giving me your name?” he asked smoothly.

His question went past you as your turned to Katie. “Should I just DM him?” you murmured, anxiety creeping into your voice.

“Honestly, I was wondering what was taking you so long to do just that,” she replied, smirking.

“You’re right. That would’ve saved us a lot of trouble,” you sighed, pulling out your phone and staring at the screen like it held all the answers.

Katie nudged your shoulder. “So what happened at the restaurant?”

“Well…” You hesitated, replaying the events in your head. “He paid for my meal. That has to mean he noticed me, right? But if he noticed me, why didn’t he talk to me? Was he just out there paying for everyone’s dinner tonight?”

“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Prince Charming interjected, “but may I ask how long you’re staying in the city?”

You didn’t look up from your screen, leaving Katie to respond. “Not long. We’re here looking for someone.”

“Would you tell me his name? Maybe I know him. The Asian community isn’t that big in places like this.”

Katie shrugged. “I don’t know… He’s a tourist, not a local.”

“Oh, I’m a tourist too, so—” he started, but you suddenly stood up.

“I did it. Let’s go. I can’t be here when he replies. I’d freak out,” you blurted, grabbing Katie’s wrist and dragging her toward the car. “Oh! Thanks a lot, by the way!” you called over your shoulder, offering him a quick bow.

“Wait!” He rushed after you, stepping in front of the car door to block your way. “I didn’t catch your name.”

You reached for the handle, unimpressed. “I didn’t say it.”

“Well, I’d love to know it.”

“Thanks for finding my shoe, sir, but I really have to go.”

His lips twitched. “Then at least tell me who you’re looking for. If I can’t have your name, I’ll take that instead.”

“Who is it then? The guy you’re looking for? I’ll take that if you can’t tell me yours,” he insisted. 

You sighed in frustration, staring straight at him. You gasped when you realized who he was. “It’s you.”

He backed away slightly. “You know me?”

“No, not really, but…” You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. “At the restaurant. I saw you there.”

A smile curled his lips, his sharp cheekbones lifting with amusement. “Yeah, I saw you there too.”

Your breath hitched, exhilaration coursing through you. “I’m actually looking for Jay Park,” you admitted, pulse racing. “He paid for my dinner.”

His jaw dropped for a split second before he quickly recovered. “That’s funny because…” He let out a short laugh. “I’m Jay Park.”

Your knees nearly buckled. The rush of wine, adrenaline, and disbelief swirled together, making your head spin. Before you could stumble, his arms caught you, steadying you on your feet. His hands were warm against your skin, his eyes wide with concern.

“Whoa, are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, gripping his forearm for balance as you stared at him—really stared at him. “Yeah,” you murmured, still breathless. 

“It’s just… I’ve been looking for you since I got here.” Your voice wavered. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been searching for you way longer than that.”

Jake felt a pang of guilt for lying, but the truth could wait. If he told you now, you’d get in that car and disappear from his life forever. He’ll just tell you the truth later.

So he smiled, tilting his head slightly. “Well,” he chimed, “I guess you found me.”

Rome at night was magnificent, and you were reveling in it as you walked the cobblestone streets with Jake, who you now believed to be Jay. You had no idea of his pretense, but you were on cloud nine, convinced you had found what you came for. He was everything you had dreamed of, and considering he had found you while you were chasing someone else, you couldn't help but believe fate was behind the whole thing.

“Accountant? That’s cool. I work for a fashion brand.”

You hummed. “Let me guess… shoes?”

He chuckled. “What gave it away?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure, but you were pretty delicate with my foot tonight, and you even mentioned it wasn’t the right size. That was true, by the way. These were gifts, and they’re a size too small.”

“They look beautiful on you either way,” he chimed.

You scowled at him, though you couldn’t quite suppress your smile.

“And I’m a photographer for the brand,” he added. “Not a designer or anything.”

“Photographer, huh? Yeah, I heard you were.”

Jake stepped over a short fence enclosing a neatly trimmed lawn, then reached out to help you over. You hesitated for a second before taking his hands, letting him pull you in.

“Please tell me you don’t have this weird fixation on…” You paused, pursing your lips before adding, “…feet.”

He laughed loudly, tossing his head back. “For a first date, that’s a pretty big question.”

You chuckled. “This is a date?”

“I hope so,” he murmured, tilting his head as he studied you. A warmth spread through your chest. “And to answer your question,” he continued, smirking, “no. Some feet are pretty, but no, that’s not my thing.”

“I see. Good to know.” You sat down on the lawn, and he followed suit, stretching his legs out beside you.

Jake propped himself up on his hands, then nudged you lightly. “Come here.”

You leaned in without hesitation, resting your head on his shoulder. The night sky stretched vast and deep above you, the stars hidden, but the moon glowing bright. Wisps of clouds drifted lazily across it, painting soft streaks in the dark.

“That’s pretty,” you murmured, admiring the waning moon.

“It is,” he agreed. “But it’s prettier in Positano. By the beach, with the stars and the sea breeze.”

“You’ve been there?” you asked, instinctively leaning closer to his warmth.

“Yeah, once. A long time ago, during a short break in college. I’ve come here several times since, but I never really went back there; I was mostly just here for work.”

“I see. Your Italian is really good.”

“Well, I come here often. One of our designers lives in Rome. He holds a showcase every year, and I always come to take the photos.”

“So… you’re busy?”

He shook his head. “Not anymore. The show was earlier today. I’m officially off the clock.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, letting the quiet settle for a moment. Jake relaxed beside you, resting his cheek against your hair.

“Take me to Positano,” you murmured, trying to sound confident despite the shyness in your chest.

He hummed, nuzzling into your hair slightly. “I’ll take you tonight if you want me to.”

You scoffed, nudging him playfully. “Tomorrow, maybe?”

“Tomorrow then.”

You smiled to yourself, but a thought tugged at the back of your mind, prompting you to sit up and turn toward him. “Right. Earlier tonight, at the restaurant.”

Jake straightened slightly. “What about it?”

“You paid for my food. Did that mean you noticed me?”

He exhaled, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “Are you serious? Of course, I noticed you. Ever since you walked in, actually. I could barely keep my eyes off you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Then why didn’t you talk to me? I was eyeing you all night.”

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “If I had known that, I would’ve approached you. But I was with a friend, and I didn’t want to disturb you. Plus… I didn’t think you’d be alone all night.”

“Why is that?”

Jake shrugged, his lips lifting into a smile as he gazed at you with warmth and admiration in his eyes. “You were too beautiful. It was hard to believe you were alone in that restaurant.”

You couldn’t help the grin that formed on your lips. “Well, we should be grateful you picked up my shoe then.”

“I know,” he chuckled, exhaling like he had narrowly escaped something. “I was actually on my way back to the restaurant to see if I could talk to you, but then I found you running around and leaving a shoe behind like Cinderella.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Quite a story.”

“One for the books, if you ask me,” he agreed, smiling, his dreamy eyes fixed on you. 

You met his gaze, caught between feeling self-conscious and utterly seen, as if he could stare at you forever. And the way he looked at you like you were something precious, something to be cherished made your heart swell.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked, his voice low and thoughtful.

You snorted. “Are you seriously asking me that? Me, the person who flew all the way here because I believed in fate a little too much?”

You had told him everything: the Ouija board, the search, how you had followed him just because you’d answered a call that wasn’t meant for you.

“Touché,” he shrugged, lips curving into a smile. They looked so full, so inviting, even under the moonlight. You stared at them for a second too long, wondering if they were as soft as they appeared.

“Would you like to try and see?” he asked, catching your gaze on his lips.

Your breath hitched. “Huh?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks at his indirect invitation, and before you could compose yourself, he tapped his bottom lip. You instinctively bit your own in an attempt to mask your shyness, but it only revealed your hesitation.

Then he leaned in. His intention was obvious, with your lips set as his goal. You could tell him no, dodge, even make a move to refuse, but you didn’t. Instead, you leaned forward, meeting him halfway.

Your lips brushed, then pressed together, soft—just like you imagined they’d be. But as he moved, his kiss grew firm, insistent, claiming yours in a slow, deep pull that sent warmth coursing through your veins. Instinctively, your hands found his neck, fingers curling at his nape as you surrendered to the moment, eyes fluttering shut.

When he finally pulled away, you opened yours to find his beautiful brown ones gazing right back at you. He smiled, and your heart swelled.

“Hi,” you blurted out, brain momentarily short-circuiting.

Jake laughed, then stole a brief kiss—quick, playful—before pulling you back into his arms.

It was past midnight when you finally parted, lingering at your door, neither of you willing to let go. His fingers brushed against yours even as he talked about tomorrow, and you kept saying "yes" to Positano, over and over, as if the promise of it wasn’t already sealed between you.

If it weren’t for Katie scolding you for leaving the door wide open, you might have spent the entire night just standing there, lost in each other’s eyes.

“See you in the morning,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you rested your head against his chin.

“See you in the morning, Jay.”

You felt him freeze at the name, his expression flickering for a split second before he smiled, saying nothing. Instead, he waved, taking a few steps backward before finally turning to leave.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the giddy rush bubbled over, and you twirled in place, unable to contain it.

Katie chuckled from the couch. “You look obscenely happy.”

“Thanks. I am,” you admitted, a proud smile stretching across your face as you stepped into the bathroom for a quick wash, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on your skin.

The morning was beautiful from your window, but sadly, you were set to leave Rome today for the beaches of Positano. You were excited and it seemed like Katie was too because she was the first to drag her stuff out of the room. 

A hotel attendant helped with your luggage, leading you down to the parking area, where two sleek cars and two equally gorgeous men were waiting.

“Good morning,” Jake greeted, opening his arms just as you ran into them. “Are you excited?”

“Can’t wait.”

He chuckled and tapped your nose affectionately. Glancing over at the other car, Jake asked if they were ready too. Andre raised a thumb in response.

“We’ll be right behind you,” he told Jake, who waved before ushering you into the car.

The ride was lively, filled with music and wind whipping through your hair. Jake’s camera rested in the center console, and when you asked if you could use it, he handed it over without hesitation, walking you through the settings. Once you got the hang of it, you turned the lens on him, snapping pictures as he drove.

Noticing this, he started posing dramatically, making you giggle.

“You look great, Jay,” you commented, flipping through the shots.

“I’ll take pictures of you later,” he promised, reaching over to press a kiss to your hand.

Positano unfolded before you in a breathtaking display—lush greenery, vibrant cliffs, and the sparkling sea stretching beyond them. Compared to Rome, it was quieter, more provincial, yet no less stunning. Jake mentioned your hotel was right by the beach, and after a few more winding roads, you arrived. The driveway was expertly lined with tall trees on each side, giving it a majestic entrance.

“Food!” Katie declared the moment she spotted the hotel restaurant. “Great, because I’m starving.” She grabbed your wrist and dragged you along, leaving the men to handle the check-in and your luggage.

You ordered a feast, and before long, Jake and Andre joined you at the table, both noticeably lighter without their bags.

“Miss Destiny,” said Andre, referring to you by the nickname he’d coined for you as he sat next to Katie. “I hope you don’t mind if Katie and I share a room.”

You cocked an eyebrow at Katie, who smiled sheepishly. “Oh, come on. You have Jay,” she reasoned, pouting. “You won’t be alone.”

You met Jake’s gaze, and he gave you a small nod. “If you’d rather have your own room, I can book another,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine,” you replied, even as the thought of sharing a room with him so soon made you nervous.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his hand resting lightly over yours on your thigh.

You placed your free hand on his arm, offering him a reassuring smile. “Yes. I don’t mind.”

“Alright.”

The food was, as expected, incredible. Katie had picked the restaurant’s best-selling dishes, earning her praise from both Jake and Andre. You were especially impressed by how familiar Jake was with the cuisine and language. Despite his earlier claim that he only visited Italy for work, he seemed to really like it here.

Later, as you wandered the beach together, he continued to share small facts about the seashells you picked up, his camera never straying far as he snapped random pictures of you. You listened intently, amused by his little trivia moments.

“That one’s different,” he commented, taking a shell from your hand for a closer look. “It’s not usually found here. Must’ve been carried in by the current.”

“It looks like you,” you mused, holding it up beside his face for comparison.

He grinned. “How?”

“The color. It’s got the same deep brown as your eyes. This shell is you, Jay.”

Jake laughed, taking the shell and tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll keep it then. Souvenir from the best vacation of my life.”

You scoffed playfully. “You’re such a flirt, Mr. Park.”

“That’s because you’re pretty, Miss,” he shot back, pulling you snugly against his side.

You giggled, slipping your arm around his waist as you continued walking, the waves crashing softly in the distance.

At some point, you managed to steal his camera again, snapping pictures of him as he stood against the backdrop of the sea. He looked regal through the lens, but even the camera couldn’t quite capture what you saw in real time. He was breathtaking, like the sea breeze and the view right before you. He was gorgeous and golden, like the sun that was setting down the horizon.

“Look,” he said suddenly, pointing toward the sunset as he stopped in his tracks. You followed his gaze, taking in the golden hues painting the sky.

Without thinking, you leaned into his chest, letting his warmth wrap around you as silence settled between you. None of you were talking, tired from goofing around all afternoon and just utterly speechless by this—the quiet, the beauty, the understanding between two people who had stumbled into something that felt impossibly perfect.

Yet, in the back of your mind, a small fear was lurking. This moment felt too good, too perfect, and you didn’t want it to end. You wished you could stay here forever, pressed against him, watching the sky change colors until night fell and the sun eventually rose again.

“Would you be surprised to hear that I might be falling in love with you?” Jake asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant—like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

“Yes,” you admitted, tilting your head slightly. “But it would make me happy to hear it too.”

His heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek. “I like being here,” you murmured. “Right by your side. It feels right. It feels good. And I don’t think I’m gonna let anyone take this away.”

Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head, making you look up. On impulse, you reached for him, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

“Would you stay?” you whispered against his mouth.

He lifted your chin, deepening the kiss just enough to seal his answer before pulling back slightly. “I’ll be wherever you are,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “Wherever you want me to be.”

And so, as the last traces of sunlight dipped below the horizon, you kissed again, understanding, without needing to say it, that this moment wasn’t just fleeting. It was the start of something inevitable. Something fated.

Days with Jake blurred into a dream of sun-drenched adventures and stolen kisses. You went boating, scuba diving, hiking, and cruising along the coast in Andre’s small yacht. If you weren’t taking pictures of each other, you were tucked away somewhere cozy, his lips moulding with yours. In the privacy of your suite, you were tangled together beneath the sheets, talking about each other’s lives, strengths and fears, childhood memories, favorite songs, and the kind of futures you had always imagined. Five days in Positano had you realizing you had never told so much about yourself to anyone until now. 

He photographed you endlessly, claiming the camera loved you almost as much as he did. And you, oblivious to the truth, still believed he was Jay Park—the person fate had written into your story.

Jake, on the other hand, found it harder to maintain the lie. The closer you got, the heavier it sat on his chest. He told himself it shouldn’t matter. A name was just a name. But you spoke about destiny with such conviction, as if the universe had carefully arranged every thread of your lives to lead you here. You still believed that thread was tied to Jay, but Jake wanted to believe it was tied to him. Maybe it was. Maybe fate had simply used another name to bring you together. He wanted to believe that when you eventually find out, you’d understand. 

But when you looked at him like this, like you were certain that he was the Jay Park of your dreams, he wasn’t so sure anymore. What would happen if you found out?

“Jay, where are we going?” you asked as he led you through the dense bushes.

“You’ll see.”

Faint orchestral music drifted through the air, growing louder with each step. Beyond the hedge, golden lights shimmered, illuminating a grand estate that looked more like a palace than a house. Silhouettes of elegantly dressed guests moved through the gardens, their laughter mixing with the music.

You tightened your grip on Jake’s hand. “Please tell me we have an invitation for this.”

He barely glanced at you before chuckling. “Of course not. We’re not Italian socialites.”

Your jaw dropped. “We’re gatecrashing?”

He pressed a finger to his lips, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re just a couple of lost tourists who took a wrong turn looking for the bathroom.”

“Yeah, no. I’m going back.”

“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Oh, it’s currently having tea with my common sense. Let me go.”

But Jake didn’t let go. He just grinned and kept walking, tugging you along with him.

You exhaled sharply, scanning the lavish scene. “I have a feeling you’ve done this before.”

“For once, you’re wrong,” he said, too cheerfully. “This is my first time.”

Your head snapped toward him. “Wait—so you don’t have an exit plan?”

“Have you heard of spontaneity? You should try some.”

You scoffed. How dare he say that to you, of all people. “I literally flew to Italy on a whim.”

Jake straightened his tie and smoothed his jacket. You did the same, thanking the fact that you were both out for a fancy dinner tonight and your nice clothes are helping you blend in easily with the crowd.

With an exaggerated bow, he held out his arm. “Welcome to the Baron’s Ball, my lady. Shall we?”

Despite yourself, you giggled, slipping your arm through his. “Lead the way, my lord.”

Inside, the grandeur was almost dizzying. Gowns and suits shimmered beneath the glow of a massive chandelier. There was an actual orchestra playing a waltz, and while some guests lingered by the edges of the room, others twirled effortlessly at the center.

Jake maneuvered through the crowd with ease, nodding and offering brief greetings as though he belonged here. The casual confidence made you feel a little less like an imposter—until he steered you straight toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” you hissed under your breath.

He only squeezed your hand in reassurance. “We can’t pass up a chance to dance at a swanky party,” he whispered in your ear, kissing the side of your head right after and leaving you warm and nervous.

“Good evening,” a passing gentleman greeted, and Jake nodded smoothly in return.

“Good evening,” he replied, his posture relaxed, his charm effortless.

That’s when you realized—he’d been doing this all night. A nod here, a smile there. Enough to make you look like you belonged. And somehow, against all logic, it was working.

The moment you reached the dance floor, Jake pulled you into position, guiding you effortlessly into the same graceful stance as the other couples. One hand settled gently on your waist, the other laced with yours, while you rested your free hand on his shoulder, your thumb unconsciously stroking the nape of his neck.

“Relax, love,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “You got me. We’ll be fine.”

His voice was a melody of its own, putting you at ease. You closed the gap between you, pressing your ear on his chest as you swayed. Just like how it had always been ever since you met him, you felt the fulfillment of belonging to something, to someone. It put your heart at ease.

You had been right to book that flight, and fate had been generous to let you pick up that call. Everything in your life had felt uncertain for so long, but now, with him here, it was as if the universe had finally put things into place, you were right where you were supposed to be. 

“Is this destiny?” he asked. You lifted your head, smiling as you met his gaze. He was already smiling too, cheekbones lifting and eyes crinkled at the corners.

“It is,” you said softly. “Because if it isn’t, then it shouldn’t feel this right, Jay.”

His smile faltered for just a second—so brief you might’ve imagined it—before he masked it with a kiss to your forehead. “I’m just asking because I’m not big on destiny and soulmates and all that stuff. But a friend told me that everything you do, everywhere you go, everyone you meet, you meet them for a reason. The reason was destiny. Do you think so too?”

You nodded. “I always have. I believe people are placed in our lives on purpose. Every friend we’ve lost, every enemy we’ve made, every person we’ve loved and stopped loving. Even the stranger at the grocery store or the student scrolling through his phone on the train—we were meant to cross paths. Sometimes we play a role in their lives, sometimes we don’t. But every meeting happens because it was supposed to. And we begin in a random place, navigating through people and relationships and places until we find where we belong.”

“That’s beautiful.”

You smiled, tiptoeing to press a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s even more beautiful now that I’ve found you. This… this is where I belong.”

His arms tightened around you. “I feel the same,” he whispered. “Does that mean everything that lead up to this moment doesn’t matter anymore? I mean, we’re here now. We’ve found each other.”

The music shifted before you could think of a response. People started cheering and heading for the dance floor, cramping the space. Someone bumped into you, throwing you off balance, but Jake caught you immediately.

Your heart pounded as you took in the scene. Everyone was moving into formation. Everyone except for you two.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you muttered. The music had paused, and the dancers stood poised, waiting for the cue to begin. You glanced around anxiously. “Should we leave?”

Jake only grinned. “Relax. It’s a cotillion. Just blend in.”

Before you could argue, the music resumed—and the dancers sprang into motion with eerily coordinated formations and synchronized steps. Jake twirled you, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Dance, love! Dance like this is your last night in Italy!” he beamed.

With a breathless laugh, you gave in, mirroring his exaggerated, silly dance moves. The embarrassment melted away in the absurdity of it, but it wasn’t long before you noticed heads turning. People were starting to watch you.

“The guy in the red suit,” Jake said under his breath, “I think he’s a guard. Or a butler. Or something.”

“What?” You followed his gaze and spotted a man flipping through what looked like a guest list. Your stomach dropped.

Jake leaned in. “When he comes this way, we run for that door.”

Your head whipped toward the exit he was pointing to. “Wait, that’s not where we came from—”

“It’s a better escape route.”

“Oh god,” you breathed, eyes darting back to the guard. He was looking right at you now, brows furrowed in suspicion. You didn’t wait for Jake’s signal—you grabbed his hand and bolted.

“Oi! Hey!” a voice called out behind you.

Jake abruptly stopped, dropping to his knees. “Shoes.” He tugged at your heels. “They’ll slow you down.”

Cursing, you kicked them off, barely giving him time to grab them before you both took off again.

Shouts rang out behind you, the man barking orders in rapid Italian, but you didn’t look back. You tore through the grand entrance, past a sprawling garden, and straight toward the massive gates.

The guards outside barely had time to register the sight of two guests sprinting into the night before you were already gone.

You didn’t stop running until you were far from the venue, your laughter mixing with Jake’s as you both collapsed by the seawall. Breathless and giddy, he hoisted himself onto the ledge, patting the spot beside him in invitation.

You sank down next to him, still panting, and leaned against his side for support.

“You good?” he asked, his arm coming around you, his fingers kneading gently at your shoulder.

“Yeah. You?”

“Better than ever.” He grinned, and you both broke into laughter again—genuine, breathless, and a little bit wild.

After a moment, you straightened, turning to look at him. His face was still alight with exhilaration, his eyes gleaming under the dim streetlights. “You’re a bad influence,” you murmured.

His grin widened. “I know.” Then, after a breath—“Can I kiss you?”

You glanced at his lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He closed the gap between you in a kiss that was long and slow, lingering like the adrenaline still thrumming in your veins. He kissed you until neither of you could tell if your lightheadedness was from the run or from this—whatever this was between you. And by the time you pulled apart, breathless and undone, you were sure of one thing.

You didn’t regret a single second of it.

When you arrived at the hotel, the receptionist greeted him as Mr. Sim. You frowned, catching his sleeve as the elevator doors closed behind you. “Mr. Sim? I thought you were Mr. Park.”

He barely looked at you, too busy tugging you flush against him. “Probably another Asian guest. To these people, we all look the same.”

You laughed because, knowing him, he was probably right. But before you could dwell on it, his lips were on yours, swallowing any thought that didn’t involve him. You barely made it to his suite before your hands were everywhere—fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching at the fabric of his shirt as he pressed you against the door, kissing you like he was starving.

You knew where this was going, had known it since the first time his lips brushed against yours. But even as you gasped against his mouth, even as he trailed kisses down your neck, you forced yourself to slip from his grasp, your hands still lingering on his shoulders.

“There’s something you should know,” you murmured, breathless. His fingers were already tracing the curve of your waist, sending shivers down your spine. “It might change things.”

He exhaled a laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t think anything you say can change how I feel about you.”

Your chest tightened, his words making your resolve waver. You kissed him, long and deep. His mouth traced a path down your jaw, nipping at your pulse, making you shudder. “The truth is…”

“Hm?” he hummed, lips brushing your collarbone.

“I’m…” You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “…engaged.”

Everything stopped. His grip on your hips tightened, his heavy-lidded eyes snapping open. “You’re what?”

“I’m engaged. I was supposed to be married in a week.” You exhaled, searching his face.

He backed away just enough to take a good look at you. He was still holding your arm when he asked, “Then why are you a thousand miles from home looking for a soulmate in a complete stranger?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to get married. And I—I answered your call by accident. It was meant for my boss, Lee Heeseung. But when you told me your name… I don’t know, I just felt like I had to find you.” Your fingers traced his cheek. “I thought maybe it was fate.”

His silence made your heart pound, but then he kissed you again, deeper, hungrier—like he had decided for himself what fate meant. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you toward the bed as his lips claimed every inch of skin he could reach. You arched against him, his hand slipping underneath you to unzip your dress.

“That doesn’t change anything?” you asked.

His mouth curved against your shoulder. “If we found each other… isn’t that all that matters?”

You nodded, pushing your hand inside his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. “Well, yeah. What could be worse than that?”

He flashed a grin before he kissed you breathless, pressing you into the mattress. His hands roamed lower to palm your breast, setting your skin on fire, but just as you started to lose yourself in him, he mumbled against your lips, “My name’s not Jay Park.”

In a daze from the sensation of his kisses and his touches, you couldn’t quite process what he just said. “You're not?”

“My name is Jake Sim.”

Suddenly, clarity crashed down on you. “WHAT?!” You shoved at his chest, but he barely budged.

He groaned, laughing breathlessly. “Oh, come on. You just said none of it matters!”

“Yes, except for that!” With a burst of strength fueled by sheer outrage, you pushed him off of you. He tumbled onto the floor with a thud.

He groaned, rolling onto his back. “Wow, you’re strong.”

“You lied to me?” you asked, appalled like you couldn’t believe he was capable of doing that.

“Hey, it’s just a name.”

You stood up angrily, grabbing your purse, coat, and shoes from where they were scattered across the room. “You’re a liar. A jerk! A horrible, horrible person!”

“Hey, calm down,” Jake tried, reaching for you, but you shoved his hands away.

“Don’t touch me!”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Alright. I lied. But only about my name. The rest of it was true. All of it. My dreams, my hopes, how I feel about you... all of it. My dreams, my photography, I didn’t lie about any of those.”

“You lied about the one thing that mattered most!” you snapped.

Jake exhaled, shoulders sagging. “Come on, love—”

“Don't call me that.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I did when I thought you were Jay.”

His jaw tensed as he followed you to the door. “Jay isn’t even the guy you think he is. Be real. He’s a stranger. You don’t know him.”

“You would be a stranger too if you hadn’t lied about being him.” You pressed the elevator button, glaring at him. “Do you even have a conscience?”

He stepped closer. “Just—please. Give me a chance. How do you even know he’s the man you’re looking for?”

“I’ll figure that out myself.” You stepped into the elevator and pulled the steel gate shut before he could follow. “Why did you even do that?”

Desperation flickered in his eyes. “I did it because I’m in love with you!”

You scoffed, completely, utterly frustrated and exasperated. “And you expect me to believe that? What am I stupid?”

“Baby!”

“Leave me alone!” you hollered, just as the elevator door closed.

You pounded on Katie’s door with trembling fists, your vision blurred by tears. When it finally opened, she stood there, bleary-eyed from sleep, Andre peering over her shoulder. You didn’t care. Pushing past them, you collapsed onto the couch by the window, sobbing uncontrollably.

Katie rushed to you, her hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Let’s go home, Katie.” Your voice cracked between sobs. “You were right. This was madness—coming here, chasing after some ghost, believing in stupid fate. All of it. This is the worst trip of my life.”

Katie glanced at Andre, silently asking him to give you both space. He understood and slipped out without a word. She sat beside you, offering a glass of water once your sobs quieted.

“What happened? Where’s Jay?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “He’s not Jay, Katie. He lied. His name is Jake Sim.”

Her brows furrowed. “What? Why would he do that?”

You shot up from the couch, pacing the room. “Because he’s a terrible person, that’s why! He probably thought this was all some joke. Like he could just lie his way into my bed and get away with it. Well, guess what? His honesty was five days too late! He wasted my time, my effort, everything! I will never believe in fate or destiny or love or any of that crap ever again!”

Katie sighed, taking the glass from your shaking hands. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” you snapped.

Her voice softened. “Really? You won’t believe in fate or destiny? And love too?”

The words hit sent a pang in your chest. You sat back down, burying your face in your hands. Your whole life, you had believed in love and destiny. Every good thing that happened to you, you thanked fate. Every bad thing, you told yourself it was leading you to something better. You believed in love because your parents had shown you it was real, because you grew up in a home where love was the foundation of everything. And now, just because one stranger had broken your heart, you were ready to throw all of that away?

Katie’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “Maybe this is destiny too,” she murmured. “Getting hurt is part of everyone’s growth. What he did was wrong, and he was a jerk for doing it, but don’t let him be the reason you stop believing in the things that make you who you are.”

You sniffed, wiping at your damp cheeks. “Let’s go home, Katie.”

She squeezed your hand. “Okay. We’ll go home.”

The next morning, Katie was alone in the hotel room, packing up both your things and hers for your flight home. She had taken it upon herself to gather all your belongings from the room you had shared with Jake, finding it empty when she arrived. You had left early with Andre to book tickets, determined to get out of Italy as soon as possible, leaving Katie to clean up.

She was nearly finished when a sharp knock sounded at the door. At first, she thought it was you or Andre, but when she opened it, she was greeted by a massive bouquet of flowers. Katie sighed, immediately swatting it away, already knowing who was behind it.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Not-Jay-Park?”

Jake peeked over the bouquet. “Katie. Is she here?”

“She’s not.”

Jake exhaled sharply. “Can you tell me where she is?”

Katie scoffed. “She’s booking tickets for our flight home.”

“You’re leaving already?” His voice dropped slightly.

“Yes. Early tomorrow. But if she finds a flight for today, she’ll take it. The sooner we leave, the faster she forgets about the jerk she met in Italy.”

“Come on, Katie. Not you too,” he pleaded. Katie just scoffed louder and started closing the door, but Jake wedged his hand against it. “Okay, I know. I know I messed up. But can you please hear me out?”

“You’re not worth my time, Jake.”

“I get that,” he sighed, pushing his way inside. “But I’m begging you. Please listen to me because she won’t.”

Katie folded her arms across her chest. “Fine. Three minutes.”

“Great.” He set the bouquet on the table. “The thing is… I’m in love with her.”

Katie let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Are all guys like this? Willing to say anything to get laid?”

“Hey, for the record, I have no problem getting laid.”

“You’re admitting that you sleep around? Gross.”

“No—wait. That’s not what I meant—” He ran a hand through his hair and took Katie to sit down on the chair before he crouched on the floor before her. “Listen to me.”

Katie rolled her eyes but stayed put. “Make it quick.”

He nodded. “Okay. So, I never believed in fate the way she does. I think it’s crap.”

“Is that why you tricked her? Because you think she believes in crap?”

“Will you let me finish?”

She motioned for him to continue, unimpressed.

“I wasn't even supposed to be here. I was supposed to be home, taking care of my dog. For the first time since I started working, I finally had a vacation. But then—boom—last-minute call. The photographer who was supposed to come here canceled, and I got sent instead.”

He took a deep breath. “So there I was, back in Italy, tired of shooting the same things every year. Taking pictures of that old, grumpy Marchetti’s shoes—which, by the way, are nice, but not nice enough for him to earn my respect.”

Katie frowned. “You're rambling, Jake.”

“Right, sorry.” He took another breath, refocusing. “So I’m in Rome, relieved the show is over, thinking I can finally go home. Then I run into my old friend, Jay Park. We haven’t seen each other in ages, so we grab dinner. And then—” He gestured dramatically, “in walks this gorgeous, gorgeous woman in a red dress. It’s like whole world was out of focus, and all I can see was her, looking around before sitting alone.”

“She was there for Jay.”

“I know! I mean, I didn’t at the time, but I do now.” Jake let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to talk to her, but I had Jay with me, and ditching a friend for a girl is kind of a dick move. So I just… stole glances. Jay noticed and told me to go talk to her. I figured I’d just pay for her food instead, but he insisted.” He gave a small, almost amused shake of his head. “He even paid her bill and said I should repay him by talking to her.”

Katie nodded slowly. “I see. So that’s what happened.”

“Yes,” Jake said, shifting his weight. “And then my friend left, and there I was, just watching her sip wine after her meal, waiting for the right moment. But then—” He huffed, looking away. “I chickened out. So I left.”

Katie cocked an eyebrow, clearly waiting for him to continue.

Jake pushed off the chair and started pacing. “So I left, right? I was walking the streets, thinking about her, and then suddenly this girl rushed past me. Same dress, same hair, and I just knew it was her.” He gestured vaguely, like he could still see the moment playing out. “I followed her because I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t. But your friend is a fast runner, did you know that?”

Katie smirked. “She did track and field in high school.”

Jake snapped his fingers. “That explains it.”

Then, without missing a beat, he went on. “Anyway, I found her shoe, stuck in the cobblestone. So I picked it up and started looking for her. Luckily, she wasn’t hard to spot in that dress.” He shot Katie a pointed look. “Thanks to you, by the way. I heard it was your idea.”

Katie gave a small shrug.

“So, I finally caught up to her, and she was… upset. And then, out of nowhere, you guys were leaving.” Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I knew I had to stop her. I had to at least get her name because I’d regret it if I didn’t. If she got into that car and disappeared forever—” He shook his head. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

His voice softened. “And then she told me she saw me too. That she had been looking for Jay.” He hesitated before continuing, rubbing his temple. “I thought… I thought it would be easier to make her stay if I just said I was Jay.”

Katie let out a sharp scoff. “Or you could have just said you knew who Jay Park was.”

Jake groaned, throwing his head back. “I know! But hey, I panicked, okay?” He let out a humorless laugh. “I was… desperate, I guess. I’ve never felt this way before. Ever.”

His voice grew quieter. “My mom told me to take this trip. Even though I had to work, she said something great might happen to me here.” He looked down, then back up at Katie, eyes filled with something raw. “And I know this is it. Finding her was the ‘something great’ my mom meant. I don’t know how I know. I just do.”

He swallowed hard. “And now I messed it all up. I can’t let her leave, Katie. Not when I just got to know her.”

Katie sighed, crossing her arms. “That’s actually kind of romantic.” Then, with a pointed look, she added, “But it was wrong from the get-go.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed.

“This was a big deal for her, Jake,” she continued. “She left home to pursue this. She left her fiancé. And you? You lied to her.” Katie shook her head. “She’s mad at you right now, and honestly? If I were her, I’d be mad too.”

“Is there any way I can make it up to her?”

“Bring her to your friend, Jake. She just needs a look, a confirmation that she won’t be making the wrong decision.”

“What? About her marriage?”

“Yes. It's not my place to tell, but she’s conflicted.”

“Yeah, I think I know the gist of it.”

“You know? Good. Then you also know how much this means to her.”

Before he could respond, the door suddenly swung open. Andre stepped in, freezing for a moment when he spotted Jake. Then, with a dramatic shake of his head, he sighed. “Buddy, you messed up, man.”

“I know,” Jake sighed, standing up from the floor and grabbing the bouquet. To Katie, he said, “Thanks, Katie.”

Katie nodded. “Good luck, Jake.”

The tickets were booked, and you were set to leave in the morning. As you knelt beside your suitcase, you gave your belongings a final inspection. “We have to leave super early, Katie. The flight’s early, and we don’t want to miss it.”

“I know, I know,” Katie said, fastening an earring. “Andre and I are just going to drive around for a bit. It won’t take long.”

“You don’t have to rush your date,” you said, zipping up a side pocket. “Have fun tonight. Just make sure we’re on time tomorrow. We have to leave before that jerk comes looking for me.”

You hesitated, fiddling with the zipper pull. “Did he… come looking for me?”

Katie turned to you with a knowing smirk. “You like him, don’t you? You’re crazy for him.”

You scoffed. “I am not. I mean… I liked him because I thought he was someone else. I thought he was my soulmate.”

Katie tilted her head, considering your words. “So you liked him just because you thought he was your soulmate? And now that he’s not, your feelings just disappeared? That doesn’t really sound like fate to me.”

“You don’t even believe in fate.”

“I don’t believe in chasing fate,” she corrected. “I believe it comes to you when it’s time.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Whose side are you on?”

“No one’s.” Katie grinned, clipping on her other earring. “So tell me… you’re really not in love with him?”

“I hate him,” you said with conviction.

Katie’s grin widened. “Good. Because that’s what I told him when he came here with flowers for you.”

Your heart stuttered. “He came here?”

“While you were out booking tickets.”

Your stomach twisted. “And you told him I hated him?”

Katie shrugged, all too pleased with herself. “You don’t?”

You pressed your lips together, looking away as you shoved a pair of shoes into your suitcase. “None of that changes the fact that he lied.”

Katie gave you a look—one of those smug, all-knowing looks you hated. “Good. Then we can go home without regrets. I’ll go sightseeing with Andre, and you can stay here and… I don’t know, weep?”

“You’re mean.”

“Maybe,” she giggled, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. “Have fun being lonely.”

“Katie—”

“Bye,” she called out, slipping through the door before you could protest.

The night came and went. Morning arrived with the sound of birds chirping outside your window, but you hadn’t slept much. Instead of feeling relieved about finally going home, a strange heaviness settled in your chest. Part of you wanted to leave, to put everything behind you—but another part hesitated.

“Ready?” Katie asked as you buckled your seatbelt in the backseat of Andre’s car.

“Ready,” you exhaled, forcing a smile.

Andre started the engine, but just as he was about to pull out, a loud thud made all of you jolt. Jake stood in front of the car, his palms pressed against the hood, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“Wait,” he panted. “Don’t go yet.”

You scrambled out of the car, heart pounding, expecting him to plead his case again. “What are you doing?”

Jake inhaled sharply, then gripped your shoulders. “Please don’t leave. Let me make it up to you.”

You scoffed, shaking him off. “Nothing you do will ever change my mind, Jake.” You made sure to emphasize his real name.

His jaw tensed at the way you said his name, something flickering in his expression—fondness, longing. He swallowed. “Oh god,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blinked. Then, with an incredulous scoff, you turned to get back in the car.

“No, wait—please.” Jake stepped in your way again, more urgency in his voice now. “I messed up, okay? I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. That’s why I’m here. I want to apologize and make it up to you.”

“How? By sweet-talking me?”

Jake shook his head. “No, Jay. I know where Jay Park is.”

You froze, hand hovering over the car door handle. Slowly, you turned back to face him. “You’re not lying?”

“I’m not.” He ran a hand through his hair before exhaling. “He told me in Rome that he’d be in Amalfi on the 5th. Today is the 5th. He’ll be there for a few days.”

“Amalfi?” you repeated, turning to Katie and Andre. “That’s nearby, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Andre confirmed. “And it’s worth a shot.”

Jake nodded, pulling out his phone. “Here. I have his hotel number. You can contact him.”

Your eyes narrowed. “How did you get this?”

“I pulled some strings,” he admitted. “But I’m sure it’ll work. Have you changed your mind about finding him?”

You hesitated, glancing at Katie for her opinion. She gave you a small nod. You sighed, looking back at Jake.

Looks like Destiny didn’t want you to leave just yet.

You changed your route from the airport to Amalfi. The trip wasn’t long—less than an hour—and soon, you arrived at the hotel Jake had mentioned. He followed, of course, though you had refused to ride with him, settling instead in the backseat of Andre’s convertible. You felt a little ridiculous for pursuing this after everything you’d said about fate being a sham, but you’d come all this way. A glimpse of Jay Park should be enough. You weren’t even trying to see if he was your soulmate anymore—you just wanted to fulfill the goal that had brought you here in the first place.

At the reception desk, you asked to use the phone, and the receptionist pointed you toward it before leaving you alone. Your friends had gone off as well, leaving you standing there, staring at the white receiver as nerves took over.

“Gosh, you can’t back out now,” you muttered under your breath. Just as you reached for the phone, your own buzzed in your hand. Reading the notification made your jaw drop.

By some miracle—one whole week since you’d sent the message—user jaypark_js had finally replied!

You stared at the screen in disbelief before quickly opening the chat. Jay apologized for seeing your message so late, and after a bit of back-and-forth, you asked if he’d be willing to meet for dinner since you were in the area. He agreed without hesitation, even promising to treat you to some great food.

It was set. You were going to meet Jay Park.

Back in your hotel room, you picked out a simple yet elegant white dress from your luggage, getting ready while Katie did the same. She was excited for you—even more so since she and Andre had plans for the night too. You were halfway through getting dressed when Andre arrived, Jake trailing in after him with a box in his hands.

You yelped and ducked into the bathroom, clutching your dress to your chest.

“I’m gonna go,” Katie announced, looping her arm around Andre’s. “See you later, okay?”

“See you!” you called out from inside.

As she passed Jake, Katie smirked. “See you later, Jake.” The way she said his name was teasing, almost conspiratorial, before she shut the door behind her.

Jake knocked on the bathroom door. “I got something for you.”

“Maybe later, Jake. I’m kind of naked right now,” you chided and Jake’s ears reddened at the idea of you naked in there.

“Uh… Just take it. I won’t look. You’re gonna need it.”

You cracked the door open slightly, just enough to grab the box from his outstretched hands. Inside was a pair of white shoes. “Thanks, but how did you even know my size?”

Jake hesitated before grinning. “Uh… intuition?”

You gave him a skeptical look through the gap before shutting the door again.

Left alone, Jake turned away, glancing around your room—until his eyes landed on the dress you’d left hanging in the closet. Without thinking, he plucked it from the hanger, brushing his fingers over the fabric as he moved back to the door.

“Good guess. It fits perfectly,” you called out from inside.

Jake smirked. “Of course it does.”

The door cracked open again, a single hand reaching out. “Hey, Jake, can you grab my dress? It’s the white one on the—”

Before you could finish, he hooked the hanger onto your finger. You blinked, surprised, before pulling it inside. “Thanks.”

Jake then went over to the dresser and picked up a set of earrings and a bracelet. Sure enough, the door cracked open once more.

“Oh, and I also need my earrings—” You stopped when he placed the pair in your palm before you even finished asking. You frowned slightly. “And my silver bracelet—”

Again, he handed it over without hesitation. This time, you poked your head out, eyeing him curiously. He was standing right outside, waiting, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“What?” he asked, amused.

You shook your head. “Nothing. Thanks.”

After getting dressed, you stepped out of the bathroom to find Jake lounging on the couch, flipping through an Italian magazine. He barely glanced up, but when you hesitated, fidgeting with the back of your dress, his eyes finally met yours.

“Can you button me up?” you asked, a little shyly. “I usually manage on my own, but zippers are easier.”

Jake set the magazine aside and pushed off the couch. “Yeah, no problem.” His fingers brushed your exposed shoulder as he gently turned you toward the mirror.

You met his gaze in the reflection—just as handsome as when you first met him. That effortless elegance, his smooth skin, the fullness of his lips. You caught yourself staring, remembering how they felt against yours, your hand absently touching your lower lip. 

Jake fumbled with the buttons, his brow furrowing in concentration. When one hand wasn’t enough, the other left your shoulder, grazing the bare skin of your spine. A slow, warm shiver spread through you.

“Damn buttons,” he muttered under his breath before fastening the last one. He met your eyes in the mirror and smiled. “You look great.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, still caught in his gaze. He clenched his jaw slightly and shoved his hands into his back pockets.

“You should go. Jay’s probably waiting.”

You exhaled, smoothing down your dress. “Thanks for bringing me here, Jake.”

His expression darkened. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t call me Jake.” He took a step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“But… that’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he murmured, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “And it sounds so good when you say it. It was meant for your lips, for your voice…”

“Don’t do this right now, Jake…”

He let out a sigh that made you hold your breath. His lips brushed against your shoulder in a featherlight kiss. Then he backed away.

“Go to Jay. See if he’s really your soulmate.”

You let out a bitter chuckle, turning to face him. “Are you mocking me?”

But there was no amusement in his expression. Only frustration. Only defeat. “I’m telling you to go,” he said quietly. “Because maybe if he makes you happy, I’ll finally move on.”

Something in you ached at the way he said it. You lifted a hand to his face, and he closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of your touch. When you started to pull away, he caught your wrist, pressing your palm back against his cheek. His other hand found your waist, tugging you closer.

You weren’t sure what it was that drew you to Jake. Was it his charm? The way he made you feel like you were all he wanted? Or something deeper, something you didn’t want to name? Whatever it was, it pulled you under again, made you tip forward and wrap your arms around his neck just as he captured your lips in a tender kiss.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, eyes shut, his forehead resting against yours. “Stay.”

You swallowed hard. “This is what I came here for, Jake. I have to do this.”

You let go of him and took your purse. Jake turned his back, not giving you a look even as you bade him good night. 

He opened his eyes, searching yours, then he let go.

You grabbed your purse and turned for the door. He turned away too, not sparing you another glance as you bade him a quiet goodnight.

The night was young, and the breeze carried a biting chill. You regretted not bringing a coat, but the thought barely lingered as you made your way down to the restaurant on the lower floor. The warmth of the space wrapped around you, easing the goosebumps on your arms.

At the entrance, a man greeted you. You gave him the name on the reservation, and he gestured for another to escort you to your table.

Jay was already seated, and the moment you saw him, your intuition from that night in Rome was confirmed. You had followed the dark-haired man back then, and he had turned out to be the real Jay Park.

He stood as you approached, offering a handshake. “Hi.”

You accepted it. “Thanks for accepting my invitation,” you said as you took your seat, the waiter pulling out the chair for you.

“Thanks for asking,” he replied smoothly.

You ordered food and chatted for a bit. He was a bit different from what you thought he would be. You had based his personality on the quality of his photography. They were taken with delicate care and attention so you assumed he’d be the sentimental type, but the man before you seemed to be on the manlier side; suave, easygoing with a more rugged demeanor. His build, his voice, and even his mannerisms. But then again, you reminded yourself that appearances could be misleading.

“By the way,” you said, setting down your glass. “That night at the restaurant in Rome… you paid for my dinner.”

He paused, as if searching his memory. Then his expression cleared. “Oh, the girl in the red dress? That was you?”

You nodded.

“I remember now.” He leaned back slightly. “I was with a friend—Jake Sim. We ran into each other in Rome, and I told him I’d treat him to dinner. Then he saw you.” Jay’s lips curled into a small smile. “You looked incredible, by the way. That dress definitely turned heads. Mine included.”

You chuckled lightly. “Is that why you paid for my meal?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted. “That was Jake’s idea. He wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to leave me hanging, so he decided to cover your bill instead. I told him I’d pay and that he should just go talk to you.”

The realization sank in slowly. “Ah… so that’s what it was.” You stared down at your plate, a strange feeling settling in your chest.

You felt an odd sense of dissatisfaction with this meeting. Something that made you feel like you were forced to be here, like you were complying with something even when this dinner was your idea in the first place.

Jay’s voice pulled you back. “Did he?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Did he talk to you at all?”

“Yeah. We talked.” You hesitated. “Actually, he’s the one who brought me here. I really wanted to meet you.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m flattered. But what for?”

You didn't want to reveal more about the whole crazy soulmate thing to him so you cooked up an excuse. “I’m a fan of your work. I follow you on Instagram and I saw that you were here so I thought I’d meet you since I also happened to be around.”

Jay seemed pleasantly surprised. “Oh, wow. Thanks. I appreciate that.” He paused. “Though, I mainly do photography as a hobby. My wife liked looking at pictures.”

Your heartbeat faltered for a second. Relief flooded through you before you could process why. “You’re married?”

“Was,” he corrected gently. “She passed away a few years ago.”

Your stomach twisted. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said easily. “I’m fine. I’ve moved on. But right now, I’m not in a place where I can entertain the idea of a relationship. Might sound obnoxious, but I hope you didn’t come looking for me for that.”

You shook your head. “That’s okay. I really just wanted to get to know you.” Desperate to steer the conversation, you added, “My boss, Lee Heeseung, you know him, right?”

Jay’s face lit up in recognition. “Right. Heeseung. Of course. You work for him?”

“Yes. I saw some of your pieces in our magazine. That’s how I knew about you.”

You could barely believe yourself. After all the ways you had tormented Jake for lying, here you were, doing the same to save face. It was minor, sure—but a lie was still a lie.

No, it was completely different. Jay didn’t need to know you obsessed over his name through your teens. You needed to know if the person you almost hooked up with and threw your relationship with Sunghoon for was really Jay. It was different and whatever Jake’s excuse was, he still did a terrible thing to you.

“You okay?” Jay’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Huh?” You looked up. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

The dinner was nice. Despite the uncertainty you felt in the first part, he turned out to be fun to talk to. You found that you were more alike than you initially expected, interests on a couple of similar things.

Afterward, you agreed to take a walk by the beach, wrapped in his coat to shield yourself from the chill. He mostly told stories about his travels—crazy encounters with strangers, unexpected adventures overseas. He asked about you, too, and you shared a few interesting bits about yourself. At some point, the conversation drifted to how he met his wife in Italy. Ever since, they had visited the country every year, always drawn back to the sea in Amalfi, their favorite place to be.

“Must be nice to be in love like that,” you mused, spotting the restaurant as you neared your starting point.

“It is.” He exhaled, the faintest smile on his lips. “I was lucky to experience that kind of love.”

You hesitated, then said, “I know it’s not my place, but… I think you should try again. Maybe you’ll find someone else who makes you happy. Maybe you’ll get to experience love like that again.”

He chuckled. “You know, sometimes I think she’s up there saying the exact same thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That’s the kind of person she was.” His voice was steady, no trace of sadness—just reminiscent and fond. “She wouldn’t want me to be lonely just because she’s gone. That’s why, instead of grieving, I chose to live. I still revisit the places we loved, still carry those memories with me—but I do it with a happy heart. And if someone else comes along, someone who changes my life the way she did…” He shrugged, smiling softly. “Then I’ll welcome her with open arms.”

You nodded, returning his smile as you reached the stairs leading up to the seawall. He offered his hand for balance, and you took it without hesitation. At the top, you slipped off his coat and handed it back.

“I think we both know that someone isn’t me,” you quipped, prompting him to tilt his head playfully.

“Well…” He slipped his coat back on. “You’re a lovely woman, and I probably would’ve fallen for you in no time, but nah. I don’t think so.”

You both laughed.

“I’m big on soulmates and destiny, you know?” he continued. “I like to believe that if she’s out there, I’ll know. There has to be a sign. Or a feeling. I don’t know exactly what, but when it happens… I’ll just know.”

You felt an odd sense of familiarity with him, not in a romantic way, but in a way that made you feel like you’d known him much longer than just tonight. He was proving once again that you two were more alike than you’d expected.

“That’s funny,” you mused. “Because I actually came here to fulfill my destiny.”

You giggled at how ridiculous you sounded, but Jay only looked intrigued. “You did?”

“Yeah. I was looking for my soulmate. I got his name when I was thirteen, and ever since then, I believed he was the one for me.”

Jay stopped walking, staring at you with growing realization. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Don’t tell me…”

You winced. “Yeah. The Ouija board gave me your name, Mr. Jay Park.”

His eyes widened. He covered his mouth with one hand, but you could see the laughter threatening to spill out.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned. “I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

He pressed his lips together, but amusement danced in his eyes. “I’m not judging.”

You threw your head back with a laugh. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Now that I think about it, my friend or my sister was probably behind the whole thing. They must’ve rigged the board or something.”

Jay grinned. “Hey, who knows? Maybe you were right to come here.”

You snorted. “No offense, Jay, but I don’t want to be the stand-in for your great love.”

He laughed. “That’s not what I was gonna say.”

“Oh? My bad. Go on, then.”

“I’m saying… you came here looking for something. At first, you thought it was me. But maybe what you were really chasing was your destiny. And maybe, if you stick around a little longer, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

ou caught a glimpse of Jake at the restaurant’s veranda. He had a glass of wine in hand, which he downed a little too quickly when he realized you’d caught him looking. Then, as if it hadn’t happened, he turned away, pretending to be absorbed in conversation with Andre and Katie. Not even a few seconds later, he stole another glance, only to look away again just as fast.

Meanwhile, Jay was still talking. “I always believe that everything you do, everywhere you go, everyone you meet, you meet them for a reason. The reason was destiny. Destiny brought you to Italy. I’m sure she has big plans for you.”

You froze. A sudden sense of déjà vu swept over you. You’d heard that before from Jake. A friend said it to him. Was that friend Jay Park?

“You know what? I agree,” you muttered, still watching Jake from afar. Then, turning to Jay, you asked, “Hey, listen.”

“Hm?”

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that to be a wingman for your friend?” The accusation in your tone was light, but you were determined to know the truth.

Jay blinked. “What friend?”

“Jake Sim.”

“Oh, Jake?” He looked thoughtful. “No, the last time I saw him was in Rome.” Then, after a beat, he added, “Didn’t you say he was here too?”

“He is.”

Jay perked up. “Great. We should all meet for a drink.”

“We should. Look. He’s right there.” You gestured toward the restaurant. “Would you like to join us? We’re here with some friends.”

“I’d love to.”

“No need to call him. He's right there,” you said, pointing at the restaurant. “Would you like to join us? We're here together with some friends.”

“I would love to.”

Back inside, you led Jay to the bar, introducing him to Katie and Andre—making sure to subtly warn Katie not to act weird around him. You had drinks by the bar, chatting and laughing through the night. 

Jay fit in effortlessly, and Andre took an immediate liking to him, prodding him for stories about his travels. Jake, on the other hand, barely looked at you. His attention was fixed on Jay and Andre, his expression was unreadable, though he chimed in every now and then. 

You, meanwhile, stood by, sipping your drink, quietly laughing along while thinking hard about the Jay Park that you obsessed over, Jake Sim who you thought was Jay, and the fate that brought the three of you here in the beautiful Amalfi.

“Are you okay?” Katie asked, noticing your silence.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” you replied. It wasn’t even an excuse. You really were tired and just wanted the night to end.

“We can go back now if you want,” Katie offered, her concern evident.

You appreciated it, but after seeing how cozy she was with Andre, you didn’t want to ruin her night. “I’ll be fine. I can go back by myself. You guys have fun.”

Slipping away quietly, you left her to explain your absence to the others. The stairs leading to your suite were winding, and as you ascended, a wave of dizziness hit you. You weren’t drunk—just a little tipsy from the wine and dizzy from all the thoughts about Jaek swirling in your mind. 

You huffed when you reached the second-floor landing. One more set of stairs and you’d reach your suite, so you inhaled and took another step. But you ended up losing balance on your heels and falling over. The next thing you knew, you were on the floor, the impact more frustrating than painful.

“Hey,” came a voice from below, followed by hurried footsteps. Jake reached you quickly, eyes scanning you in concern as he helped you up. “What happened?”

“Your shoes are stupid,” you grumbled, yanking them off and standing with his support. “Why would you even give them to me?”

Jake let out an awkward chuckle. “I don’t know. I saw them and thought you’d look great in them.”

“Well, I did. But they’re crap,” you huffed.

Jake sighed as he walked up the stairs beside you. “Was the date bad? You seem to be in a mood.”

“No. The date was great. Jay is a great guy. He’s funny, he’s nice, and he’s honest.” You emphasized the last word, making sure he caught your point.

Jake exhaled. “I’m sorry. I really am. I brought you here to make it up to you. But seeing that you’re still mad, I guess it didn’t work?”

You stopped in front of your door and turned to him with a stern gaze. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I told you. I wanted to make it up to you.”

You sighed. “By setting me up with your friend? I thought you were in love with me.”

“I am!” he confessed, running a hand through his hair. “But you were mad at me because I messed up.” He let out a defeated sigh. “So to apologize for wasting your time, here’s Jay Park.”

“But you’re in love with me,” you repeated.

“That’s still true.”

You sighed as frustration swelled inside you. Dropping your purse, you reached for his collar and clutched it tightly. “Then why?” you asked, voice raw, close to breaking. “Why would you set me up with him if you’re in love with me?”

Jake seemed startled, his hands instinctively gripping your elbows. Confusion flickered across his face as he searched for the right words. “I… What—What do you want me to say?”

“You even bought me shoes,” you went on, voice shaking. “What if we ended up liking each other? What if he really was my soulmate? Were you just gonna let me go?”

“Fuck, no,” he blurted, quick and desperate, cupping your face in both hands. “I’d fight him for you. I’d keep trying until you told me to get lost. Hell, I’d even follow you back to Seoul and stop your wedding.” His grip tightened, his breath warm against your skin. “If I lost you here—if I missed this chance—I would… I would…”

He exhaled sharply, pulling you into a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I would never forgive myself,” he murmured.

You stood still, feeling his warmth seep into you, his breaths unsteady against your skin.

He kept going. “I know how stupid it sounds to fall in love with someone so quickly, but I did. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. I knew you were the one for me. I knew you were everything that was meant to be.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “And I’m sorry I lied, but I did it because I was scared I’d lose you forever without even knowing your name.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you reached for his cheek, your fingers tracing over his skin as you stepped closer. Then, without hesitation, you kissed him.

He croaked out your name but you silenced him by kissing him again. This time, when you started to pull away, he didn’t let you. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back with everything he had, reeling you into a surge of sensations and emotions that clouded your head. 

When he pulled away for a brief moment to look into your eyes, you wanted to reach for him again, to feel him and be engulfed by his warmth again.

“Take me, Jake,” you pleaded and that made Jake exhale sharply before holding your hand firmly and pulling you into his room.

Jake barely made it two steps inside before he kicked the door shut, hands already roaming your back as his lips devoured yours. Your fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, impatient and desperate. The fabric slipped from his shoulders and hit the floor just as his own hands worked at the fastenings of your dress.

A sharp rip echoed through the dimly lit room. You pulled back, gasping. “Jake!”

“Sorry, love,” he murmured, unapologetic as he tugged you close again. “I’ll get you a new one.”

His lips found yours before you could argue, his kiss hot and consuming, stealing your breath and any lingering protests. He stepped back until his knees hit the bed, sinking down and pulling you with him, your legs straddling his lap. The heat between you intensified, kisses turning feverish—tongues tangling, teeth grazing. His hands slid up your back, deft fingers unclasping your bra with ease, and before you could react, it was gone, flung somewhere into the room. You barely noticed.

His lips traveled down your throat, dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, leaving heat in their wake. When his teeth scraped over your pulse, a gasp escaped you. He sucked at the spot, hard enough that you knew it would leave a mark.

You knew how it would look in the morning and you knew everyone would see it but you didn’t mind. The thought of people seeing it tomorrow, seeing proof of tonight, made your head spin.

Your hips rolled against him instinctively, and he groaned, his grip tightening on your waist as you ground down, desperate for friction. His hands roamed greedily, fingers tracing your curves, learning every inch of your skin.

Then, in one swift motion, he flipped you onto the bed, hovering over you, eyes dark and full of hunger. The dress, or what remained of it, slid off with ease, leaving you bare and naked beneath him. Jake’s gaze burned as he took you in, his breath ragged and quick. He reached out, trailing the back of his fingers over your cheek, slow and reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice raw. “It hurts.”

Your fingers curled around his wrist, guiding his touch lower, placing his palm right on your breast. “Touch me, Jake,” you pleaded, voice barely above a breath.

His lips parted, a hushed curse falling from them before he obeyed, hands mapping out the softness of your body, fingers exploring, worshipping.

His lips followed the same path, leaving heated kisses down your collarbone, between your breasts, along your stomach. He palmed your breast, kneading firmly before diving in to put his mouth where his hand had been. Your fingers curled in his hair, urging him on, desperate for more. 

“You’re impatient,” he murmured against your skin, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Jake,” you whined, arching into him, seeking friction.

He chuckled, hands gripping your thighs, pushing them apart. His head followed, teasing at your inner thighs, exploring and inching closer to where you want him to be. The closer he got, the quicker you breathed, and when he finally gave you what you wanted, a gasp tore from your throat.

Your fingers tightened in his hair as pleasure rolled through you in waves. He was relentless, lapping and sucking at your sensitive sex, memorizing which angle made your breath hitch and your body twitched. When your thighs trembled around him, he only gripped you harder, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. 

The pleasure built higher and higher until it crashed over you, leaving you breathless and dazed.

Before you could fully come down, Jake was already moving, lips trailing back up your body, whispering sweet nothings against your skin. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, while his hands slid down your thigh, folding your knees up.

“I need you,” he rasped against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours, breath unsteady.

“Then take me,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer.

His gaze locked onto yours, dark and filled with something deeper than lust—something consuming. He reached down to tug his boxers off, manhood springing free. He prodded at your sex, teasing just enough to make you whimper before finally pushing in, stretching you, filling you completely.

A grunt left his lips as he halted, savoring the delightful clench. “Fuck,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut, as if trying to keep himself together.

Your fingers dug into his back, and you lifted your hips, urging him to move. That was all it took for him to snap, his control falling apart as he began to set a steady rhythm—deep, slow thrusts that had you gasping into his mouth. He kissed you through it, swallowing your moans, his own sounds muffled against your lips.

When you came here, you never imagined having sex with someone, not even the soulmate you were desperately searching for. And Jake—he was a stranger, and the way he made you feel was something entirely new. You’d always been the sensual kind, taking things slow and steady. Jake was steady, but rough. Each thrust sent a sharp, delightful ache through you, unraveling you in ways you hadn’t known were possible.

You gasped, clutching onto him as he moved, hitting that perfect spot that sent your mind spinning. The pleasure built rapidly, coiling tight in your stomach, making you cry out his name.

He moved harder, deeper, chasing his release as you spiraled toward yours. Every thrust, every touch, every breath between you pushed you closer until—

“Oh, Jake,” you gasped, holding onto him for dear life as waves of pleasure surged through you in a dizzying rush.

His movements turned erratic, his grip tightening as he buried his face against your neck, groaning as he followed right after you. His body tensed, and then he froze, his breath warm against your skin as he came undone.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, tangled together, breathless and spent. The only sound was your unsteady shallow breaths, and the pounding of your heartbeats.

Jake finally lifted his head. “Fuck,” he blurted, looking down at your fucked out expression and grinning. He leaned to place a lazy kiss to your lips before rolling onto his side, pulling you against him. 

“Well,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “That wasn’t how I planned to end the night, but I’m not complaining.”

You let out a breathless laugh, nuzzling into his chest. “Me neither,” you admitted.

His arms tightened around you, and he pressed another kiss to your forehead, murmuring something against your skin that you couldn’t quite catch. But you felt it—in the way he held you, the way he touched you.

And somehow, that was enough.

Two years later, you stood at the podium, facing the person who would be officiating your wedding. Friends and family were present to witness this day, even Andre Marchetti—who, much to Jake’s grumbling, turned out to be the son of the Italian shoemaker he loathed. He and Katie had ended their fling before you left Italy, but he still earned an invitation for playing a role in your love story.

Park Sunghoon was there too, holding his beautiful baby girl in his arms, his wife beaming beside him. The two of you had remained good friends, and as fate willed it, he had even found his own destiny and married before you. Everything had fallen into place, just as you always believed it would.

And now, standing before Jake, it felt like everything had been leading to this moment. He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off nerves. Then he smirked—because of course he did—and said, “Before I met you, I never thought much about fate. To me, life was about choices, and love was just something you built, not something written in the stars. And then you happened.”

His grip on your hands tightened. “You came crashing into my life, with all your stubborn belief in destiny, and somehow, despite all my skepticism, I started to believe too. Not because of some cosmic plan, but because I couldn’t imagine a world where I don’t end up loving you. And that’s a big deal coming from someone like me.”

A small laugh rippled through the guests, but Jake kept his eyes locked on you. “So, I don’t know if the universe wrote this for us. But I do know that if I had to choose over and over again, I’d still end up right here. With you.” He tilted his head, smiling slightly. “Even when you drive me crazy.”

You let out a soft breath, eyes stinging, and squeezed his hands back. You tried to steel your resolve, willing yourself not to cry too soon. With a shaky breath, your spoke next, “I spent my whole life believing in destiny. I followed signs, searched for meaning in the smallest things, and held onto the belief that somewhere in this world, fate had written a love story just for me. But no sign, no name on a Ouija board, no whispered wish upon a falling star could have prepared me for you.”

Your voice wavered slightly, but you pushed through just like you’d practiced dozens of times before today. “You were unexpected, messy, and completely wrong by every rule I thought I had set for myself. And yet, I found you because, somehow, even through all my searching, all my mistakes, you were always meant to be the one.”

Jake exhaled, something flickering in his gaze that made your heart ache in the best way.

“I love you not because fate said so,” you continued, voice softer, “but because I wanted to. I chose you. So today, I don’t just promise to love you because it’s meant to be. I choose to love you, again and again, every day, in every lifetime, in every version of the story. I will always choose to love you.”

Jake swallowed hard, his hands tightening around yours, and when the officiant finally spoke, inviting you to seal it with a kiss, you surged forward before he even finished the sentence. The crowd erupted into cheers as Jake kissed you like it was the first time all over again, like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life. 

Across the room, Katie and your sister stood together, glasses in hand, watching as guests approached your table to greet you and congratulate you. At one point, Katie nudged your sister, motioning toward where you stood chatting with Jay Park. 

“Look, it’s Jay Park. The soulmate she was raving about for years. Looks like he played a completely different role in her destiny.”

“Jay Park?” your sister echoed, tapping her glass as she too stared at the guy greeting you and Jake.  “Why does that name sound familiar?”

 “The Jay Park. The one from the Ouija board. The soulmate the spirits chose for her.”

Your sister gasped. “Oh, yeah. The one I made up!” she exclaimed, bursting into laughter.

“What?” Katie questioned, confused.

“Jay Park. I made him up. I didn’t even think hard about it, I just randomly came up with that name.”

“No. You couldn’t have. I was there too.”

“Yeah and you were both dumb enough to freak out over moving glass so I kept messing with you all,” she laughed, taking a sip from her glass.

Katie was fully scandalized. “Do you have any idea how long she held onto that name? She was online searching every Jay Park on the internet and guessing which one was her soulmate. She even had a crush on the singer Jay Park because of it!”

“Of course I know. It was hilarious,” your sister said with a shrug. “She stopped bringing it up, so I figured she got over it.”

Katie sighed in exasperation. “Eonnie, we literally flew to Italy for Jay Park. That’s how she met Jake.”

It was your sister’s turn to gasp. “No, you did not!”

“Well, we did,” Katie deadpanned. “And now she believes the Ouija board led her to Jay so he could lead her to Jake, her real soulmate.”

“Oh my poor sister,” she winced. “Who’s gonna tell her?”

“Don’t tell her,” Katie chided, shaking her head. “She’d freak out and she’ll never forgive you. That almost happened with Jake.”

You, oblivious to their conversation, laughed at something Jay had said, completely unaware of the revelation unfolding behind your back.

But then again—who’s to say your sister’s innocent little prank wasn’t destiny’s design all along?

[fin]

[ratyts]

would it be weird

(leon x gn!reader)

masterlist

continuation of this from leon’s perspective. leon escapes the friendzone. also its 4am sorry for any typos i need to post this now!!!

warnings: friends to lovers, romantic tension, resolved romantic tension

word count: 2.5k

Leon blinked. His arms loosened around you, slipping down your torso. His breath stilled, lips pressed tightly together. What was it you'd said to him? He was your… best friend? Right. He could get on board with that. You were definitely his best friend as much as he was yours. His best friend whose skin was brushing against his lips, seated on his lap, holding onto him like a lifeline. His best friend who he could hardly stand to keep his hands off of, who would pick up his calls at all odd hours of the night, who consumed just about every one of his waking thoughts. He let the silence linger too long after you spoke. Leon couldn’t admit it now that his plan had failed, but thirty seconds ago, he thought he’d finally found the perfect time to casually confess his love for you. He would have to reconvene with himself later. 

Leon had never really had a best friend before you. He had no frame of reference for how it was supposed to feel. He knew he felt differently, more intensely, about you than he did his other friends. He also knew that your relationship was different from every romantic relationship he’d had in the past. But that was a given, because you weren’t his partner and you weren’t just a normal friend. You were everything to him. There wasn’t an appropriate category for you in his mind, your relationship was liminal, but he at the very least knew “best friend” wasn’t enough. The thought of only being that to you– forever, it made his heart clench. Even more so when you whispered it right into his ear like a love confession. Worst birthday gift ever.

He chuckled, refocusing himself in the moment, “I know, you’re my best friend too.” Your breath seemed to tremble at his response, and he wondered if you also knew that wasn’t enough. 

The two of you stayed like that for a moment longer before he pulled away, looking up at you with a wry smile. Past the twitch in his eye he could feel brewing, Leon could see some humor in his situation. He was in the friendzone. At the rate he was going, he’d find himself in the “you’re like a brother to me” zone before he knew it. He’d done it to himself, really. It had taken him far too long to admit to himself that he loved you as a friend, and by the time he was ready to say that, he already loved you much more and in a much different way. You weren’t to blame, he decided. Leon had marched his way into the friendzone, and it was his responsibility to claw his way out. 

That night ended as peacefully and normally as it could’ve, considering the occasional twitch of Leon’s eye and his sudden insistence to leave you alone even less than usual. He’d coaxed you into his bed (even though you always shared the bed when you came over), and latched onto you as he slept (he was always a wild sleeper), and was very proud of himself in the morning. 

In a moment of retrospection the next morning, as he watched you dig through his cupboards, completely disheveled and barely awake, he realized he had been subconsciously acting on his feelings for a long time. He thought back to the time you walked in on him changing. How it was the reddest his face had ever been, and how he embarrassingly made an effort to wear more tank tops around you– and sometimes skip the shirt completely, in the aftermath. You seemed pretty unaffected at the time, laughing it off much easier than Leon did. 

He thought back to a time even before that, the time he’d held you– really held you, for the first time. His memory of the night was blurred, he must have had one drink too many, but he remembered how it ended. It was the only time he’d cried in front of you, the only time he’d cried in front of anyone in the better part of ten years. It wasn’t over anything in particular, but you didn't ask. You just slid closer to him, wordlessly wrapping an arm around his back. Neither of you moved for a minute, then Leon raised his head and his teary eyes met yours. He wasn’t sure which one of you moved first, but before the next tear rolled down his cheek, the two of you had connected like a puzzle piece. Thinking back on it, he thought he should've known by then that you were always going to be the most important person in his life.

In his kitchen, you whipped around, empty handed. “Where’s all the food?”

“Top left,” Leon gestured towards the cabinet, the corners of his lips upturning as you returned to your search. He abandoned his position by the entrance, slowly moving closer to you. It would be so easy, so normal to close the distance. He wanted to kiss you.

“Pancake mix?” You said, stretching your arm out to grab the box, “When was the last time you went to the store?”

“A while ago,” he chuckled, walking up behind you, his chest inches from your back. “Wanna go with me?” 

Your head turned towards him, eyes widening slightly (because of his proximity, he hoped), “Uh, yeah.” You elbowed him, creating some space between the two of you, “You- you go get ready.”

He nodded, turning around to do as you said, wondering if he could’ve grabbed you. What would’ve happened if he had leaned in a little closer. He brushed it off. Leon couldn’t even disobey an offhand remark you made.

You were always so collected. It was wishful thinking, assuming you had ever been remotely flustered by him, he thought. Leon hopped around his room, slipping on a pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt he hadn’t sweat through during the night. He could be stoic, broody even, that much Leon could admit– at least to himself. He wasn’t affectionate, he wasn’t emotional, never vulnerable. Except with you. Around you, Leon was embarrassingly honest, in his mind, at least.

He passed you as he left his bedroom, you grumbling something about needing ten minutes to get ready and that he should “make some coffee or something.” He looked over his shoulder as you shuffled away, shutting the door behind you. Again, he took your suggestion. Moving on autopilot, Leon emptied his bag of coffee grounds into the machine and flipped the on switch. The machine grumbled, shaking on the countertop as the coffee streamed into the pot. His gaze drifted towards the clock, then his bedroom door, then back to the pot. He sighed, pulling two mugs out of the cabinet– both gifts from you– as the stream became drips then finally stopped. He poured your cup first.

“Hey.” He jumped, coffee spilling onto the countertop as he spun around to see you standing only inches away from him. 

“Jesus,” Leon said with an exhale, setting the pot down then running a hand over his face. 

“Weren’t you just bragging about your super fine tuned reflexes?” Your expression was mocking, lovingly mocking, as you looked up at him. You bent sideways, glancing at the coffee dripping from the countertop to the floor then back at him with a raised brow. “You’re jumpy today.”

He rolled his eyes, painfully aware of your proximity, “I have no rebuttal.” He lifted a hand to pinch your cheek, wiping the smugness off your face, “You win, let’s go.”

He stared at your face in the moments before you pushed his hand away. Leon’s ability to read your expressions was nowhere near consistent. He could read you like a book anytime you weren't looking at him. The second you directed a look at him, it was his best (or worse, really) guess. He squinted, eyes following the back of your head as you stalked to the front door, slipping some shoes on. 

Leon sometimes thought he was a horrible friend to you. He was constantly crossing lines, pushing boundaries, going a bit further than rationality should’ve allowed. Usually, you didn’t push back. In fact, you almost always accepted anything he had to offer with willing and open arms. Except a confession. He hoped that one had been an accidental misstep.

You shuffled alongside Leon, bundled up in one of his sweaters, wincing each time a burst of chilling wind hit your face. It took him about thirty seconds to goad a reluctant yes out of you to walk the few blocks with him to the grocery store rather than drive. Leon looped an arm around you once you were outside, spinning you around to walk on his other side, away from the curb. He said something about the wind, but kept his arm around your shoulder even after you had been repositioned. It was his pesky desire to be as close as possible, to protect you from, what? The empty neighborhood street? That much he couldn’t even rationalize to himself.

Leon liked to position himself as your protector. Although you had never needed his help before, he was half sure that was because of his preemptive protective measures. There’s a fine line between possessiveness and protectiveness, he had come to learn. Leon toed it frequently. He didn’t think of possession in the usual sense– despite the places his jealousy would occasionally lead him. You weren’t an object, not something to be owned. You weren’t a doll either, you didn’t need him, not in that sense at least. But, to a certain extent, he couldn’t help it. As the two of you walked side by side, he could barely take his eyes off you to look in front of him. He tripped once in the produce aisle and somehow flat tired you twice in the deli then once in canned goods, but he couldn’t stop. 

You pulled him backwards by the collar of his sweater, stopping him at the checkout line. His eyes snapped back to you, refocusing on the task at hand. He gave a lazy smile and a shrug in response to your furrowed brow. 

“You okay?” You asked, releasing his collar, looking for an answer in his expression. He blinked, nodding, likely too obviously hoping you wouldn’t find one. You were quiet for a beat before relaxing your face, wordlessly nudging him towards the cashier.  

The walk home was colder. The bag dug into the palm of Leon’s hand, and even though you kept asking if you could carry it, Leon insisted. He kept close, your shoulders brushing with every step, even as the weight of the bag threw off his rhythmic steps. You glanced over at him every few seconds, checking for silent communication. Leon was still thinking about his failed confession. Wondering how much longer he had before someone else swept you up and away. How much longer he could hold onto you like you were his. His eye twitched again. 

By the time the two of you got back inside, he was sure his face was flushed entirely red. He kept his eyes on you as he dropped the bag in the kitchen, doubting how much of the redness was from the cold.

“Finally,” you shivered, kicking off your shoes and collapsing onto the couch. You rubbed your hands together, looking over your shoulder to see Leon standing feet away, hesitating. Before your confusion could grow, he quickly followed your suit, settling down next to you. You turned away, satisfied, turning on the TV and flipping through the channels. Leon was sitting close enough that his knee brushed against yours, his hand brushed against the side of your thigh. He looked at you with a pensive expression, eyes continuously flickering back down to your lips. He wasn’t sure when it started, but it felt familiar, like he’d been staring all day. He swallowed, hard. Then before he could think, his lips parted.

“I want to kiss you,” he blinked, eyes wide as if his words surprised himself. Leon kept his voice steady, betrayed only by the blush on his cheeks. 

You were silent for a moment before you paused your ministrations on the remote and turned your head towards him, brows furrowed, “Huh?” 

“You heard me.”

“No-” You blinked, shaking your head, losing the remote in the crevice of his couch, “No, what? Say it again.”

He sighed, embarrassment creeping up and the looming fear of rejection hanging above his head, “Remember when I said I love you? Last night?” 

You nod, your face painted with confusion and something else Leon couldn’t decipher. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, shifting to rest his arm along the top of the couch, “I… Damn it. Can I kiss you or not?”

Your mouth fell open, then shut quickly. Processing for a moment, you begin a slow nod, your eyes boring into his, “...You can kiss me.”

Leon freezes, and you don’t move either. He’s not sure who leaned in first, but a moment later your faces are inches apart and his half lidded eyes snap open as he sees yours flutter shut. He inhales sharply and grabs the back of your neck, bringing your lips together. You recoiled, pulling away as quickly as it had happened, a hand shooting up to cover your mouth and Leon swears the cloud of rejection is floating above him again.

“Holy shit,” you said, your words muffled by your hand.

Leon nods, hesitantly, heart threatening to beat out of his chest, “Yeah.”

“You love me?” You swallow, voice small.

He nods again, certain his cool facade has melted into something pathetic and desperate by now. He moves to release his hold on your nape and your hand grabs his forearms before he can, keeping him in place. In a less than graceful maneuver, you use his hand to pull you closer. Then, inches apart again, you raise your hands to cup his cheeks and lean in. By the time Leon realizes you haven’t slapped him and stormed out, you’ve already peppered kisses across every inch of his face you could reach. 

Oh, God, he thinks. He’s so stupid.

His hands regain purpose, and he pulls you in with a new force, pressing his mouth against yours without hesitation. Leon’s free hand found itself at your waist, pulling you in until you were chest to chest. Your arms wrapped around his neck, falling on top of him. You gasped, and he took advantage of the opening, deepening the kiss, holding onto you like you were the last tether he had to earth. A shiver ran down his spine as you pulled away, chest heaving, eyes locked onto his. He placed a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth then pulled you back down into an embrace, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face, so he just chuckled and held onto you tighter.

“Leon,” you began, breath hot on his skin, “I feel so stupid.”

He laughed a little harder, feeling your smile against his neck, “You have no idea.”

[muttsupreme]

subby romey getting overstimmed,,? in a nice way? 🫠

of course nice. we’re all nice here, right? looks around the room

Roman is a crybaby. Hey, to an extent, he deserves to be, and it kind of validates you, because he’s not uninterested in making you cry about half of the time. But he’s also mean, so mean, and he takes your kindness like a snippy dog at first.

It’d start off with him burying his face in your hair. You’re jerking him off on the couch as Truly, Madly, Deeply plays. What? It’s romcom night! He’s not really watching anyways, he’s got his eyes closed and his pants pulled down to his mid-thigh, still dressed in his work clothes aside from the shoes he’d kicked off as soon as he walked through the door. He’d make little whines and mumble stuff and slowly stutter his hips up to fuck your hand in return. he tries to imagine it’s your hole — any of ‘em, really.

“Thank you, baby, good job, taking over like that,” you encourage when he slams his hips in a nice little rhythm that still stutters and falters, but it’s almost like he thinks he’s fucking you. He cums like he is, with a quick, “oh ff-fuck,” mere seconds before he creams your hand, pulling back to make sure your palm catches it as it spurts out the tip. It drips down his dick and onto his balls, but at least it didn’t hit your face or his shirt. He thanks god his instincts saved him some minor embarrassment.

But your hand doesn’t stop. you keep on keepin’ on, even as he softens. He squirms, and jolts when you lean to cup his balls.

“Fuck you, what am I, your joystick?” he whines as you massage his sack and jerk his cock.

“Just one more. I barely got to enjoy it the first time, you came so quick.” He moans at that, thighs clenching.

“Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, kissing down your neck to your collarbone. It’s more for him than you, really. He likes your taste, breathes deeply in shaky, sharp breaths. He sounds like he’s getting hurt, like someone just knocked the breath from his lungs. He softens, a little more than you like. You straddle him.

“What do you want,” you say it as a soft demand. It’s less of a question. “Speak, use your big boy words.” It’s like you’re talking to a dog — a very beloved dog, one you let sleep at the end of your bed.

“In the whole world, or—?”

“You know.”

“This’n,” he slips his hands under your skirt. Feels around, finds your pussy lips, pulls them apart at the front through your panties. His eyes can’t see through fabric, and he doesn’t lift the skirt, he’s just being sort of sweet, you think; innocent, almost. Which is surprising when you consider that he’s basically the devil any other time.

“What’s ‘this one’? Hm?” you ask sweetly, like coaxing his obedience, like making him say it out loud is comparable to making a dog do a trick.

“Your cunt? Pussy? The slip-n-slide in? Do you just like hearing dirty words?”

“You know what to say,” you say, kissing the arch of his nose and then the tip. God, you don’t ride his face enough, you gotta do that more often, utilize his assets.

He whines and bucks his hips, cock jostling and jumping. You’re so beautiful above him. Why does he think he can treat you like this? You’re not one to joke with. You’re a goddess. Your presence is so unique. Irreplaceable. You’re strong, tough in ways he’s not sure he can really replicate. He’d have to either kill himself or become the next unabomber if you left him. There’d be nothing left of him, no remnants, not a scrap.

“Your royal hotness, may you please stick my teenie-weenie in your peeeeeerrrfect puss-puss?” he has a giggle, a drunken one. Your feet curl under the backs of his knees. He likes their warmth, he likes that it makes him feel both big and strong while also being your fucking accessory. You can climb all over him if you want.

“Nope. Try again,” you allow him a second attempt, knowing that he’s still high off of having just came and still twitchy. You grind down on his soft cock.

“C-Caaaaann…I please, please use your pussy?” His hands grip your upper thighs.

“My what? My what pussy? Is it nice?” you decide to coax, tease him, playfully bully him even, into being sweet.

“No, it’s mean—,” he says, half-joking. “Yeah, yeah your pussy is nice. It’s…pretty. It’s warm. Your pretty pussy.” All the blood is rushing from his brain back to his oversensitive cock at the thought of it.

“Good. Nice boy,” you clumsily fumble on his lap to tug your panties down and off. “Real good job.” Your skirt is lifted, held in your hands.

He’s salivating. Literally feels his mouth water a little bit. His eyes are staring, just completely entranced by your pussy, gentle hands softer than you can imagine spreading your pussy lips and drooling over your clit.

He grabs his dick, lines it up with your hole. You’ll allow it, you’ll clench over his pulsing, leaking tip begging to be let in and grin as he lets out some breathy, sharp exhale. His brain is marshmallow fluff, a fluffernutter sandwich, and his hips twitch up to try at slipping the tip inside, just the tip, please.

“Uhn-uhn,” you angle your hips in a position where his tip is still pressed against your hole, but you know he can’t get in. “You can’t handle that right now.”

“Fuck you,” he mumbles, so immature. “Yes I can. I’m — do you think I’m some cuck, king of celibate town?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence where he kind of cedes his case. Like yeah, okay, you might be just kidding, but you’re kind of right, so I give up. He’s all pouty and twitchy. You roll your hips, his tip slips from the home it’s made, edging at your pussy, and the girth of his cock spreads between the puffiness of your labia. It has you both a little surprised by how good it feels.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he whines, hips twitching up and down in an almost embarrassing fashion, slightly out of control in his own body from having came mere minutes ago and now this. Yeah, maybe he can’t handle being inside, but he wants to be close to you. You’re ruining his whole ‘romance’ thing.

“Then it’s perfect for you,” you say, riding his cock — except, his cock between your pussy lips. He grips tight, whining, bucking his hips beneath you as you try to keep a steady pace. His eyes look watery.

“Mean. You are mean tonight, bitch,” his voice wobbles. It’s so, so silly, because you know he’s exactly where he wants to be right now, and it puts you in a nice position. He’s all yours right now, and you like, kind of can do whatever the fuck, and he’ll just nod his little head and pucker his lips for a kiss.

His hips twitch and twitch as you rub back and forth on his cock, and fuck — the tip prods your hole again, just a little. Your hole flutters, because he’s just leaking, and his cock is so hot and throbbing against you. You give some small mercy, your hands caressing his face, thumbing over his eyes and eyebrows down to his scruffy cheeks, kissing him sweetly and chastely. He follows you, tugs you back down, and you allow it. Perfect moment to let his tip push in, right?

He gasps into the kiss but doesn’t — can’t stop kissing you. You think you feel him trying to mumble your name through his lips mashing against yours sloppily and desperately, you think you feel wetness around your mouth and a little dribble of drool as his tongue puppy-dog kisses you.

“Told you, you couldn’t handle it right now.”

“Huh?”

You just snicker. He’s out of it, and even just the tip has his balls drawing up, fucking ready to blow his load.

“Nothing, Romeyrome,” you kiss a speckled mark on his cheek near his nose. “Go ahead, get it over with,” you encourage.

“Get it — ffuck, fuck, over with? You’re so romantic, I’m buying you a Nicholas Sparks novel to compare notes with.”

He whines as you laugh, partly because of your laugh, because he made you laugh. You reach down to rest your warm palms on the throbbing base and oh fuck, he can’t take it. He jerks his hips, grabbing your free hand to kiss the inside of and mumble your name into. He playfully gnaws at it until his head falls back. His eyes still look up at you, even when you look away.

You run your hand down from the base of his cock, your hips still wiggling with just the tip in, and you cup his ballsack, rolling them with your thumb and squeezing them gently.

“Let me in, let me just cum inside, I can’t hold back anymore,” he pleads, breathless.

“No,” you grin, “you can’t take it, honey. Just the tip.”

But he’s a tricky boy, tricky — the minute he gasps, clearly cumming, he lifts his hips off the bed, holding your hips down, pushing all the way in, nice and deep. You decide, okay, that’s his choice, next is mine, right?

You ride him as he cums and long after, and fuck, he’s making almost pained noises. He’s crying, actually, haphazardly gripping your thighs.

“Please, please, can’t you just, fuck, you’re milking my load out of me, fuck you, you — you fuckin’—,” he can’t finish his sentence without an awful, heartfelt little whine, loud as can be, like a pitiful puppy. “Incubus,” he finally finds the word, his thighs twitching beneath yours, hips stuttering up.

“Cum for me, too, what — what do you, can’t you just tell me what to do,” he’s so desperate in his pathetic babbling that it’s sweet.

“Just enjoy it, Roro,” you soothe. He’s so sweet. You can’t resist planting little kisses across his face. He leans into them all.

“Can’t stop, Jesus, can’t fucking stop—,”

“Then don’t stop, get it all out.” You kiss away a few stray tears, and he’s already came once outside of you and once inside, but from how he grips your hips and tries slamming up into you from beneath, you’re pretty sure he came a third time.

There’s a pause. You stop only for a moment, and he’s practically wheezing trying to catch his breath. It’s been a while, you get it; cumming three times in a row, not having to hold back for some fucking fulfillment of a role or whatever, it exhausts you both.

“You gotta let me eat your incubus pussy now.”

“Nooo,” you say, the way one would scold a puppy. “You need to go to bed, honeybunch. That’s that. Doctor’s orders.”

“The doctor’s a quack, let me at it. You drained me dry with your cum-sucking vampire-pussy, so can’t you just let me…sate you?”

You kiss him on the lips.

“I’ll use my face washcloth to clean you up if you drop it.”

He shuts up real quick. Makes a motion of zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

[phoenixmetaphor]

<<< previous . beginning

october november 29 (lol) - crack

heeeeeeeey everyone, i am not dead and neither is this comic!

i got a little stuck trying to figure out how to handle chris draining the aqua ring. i definitely do not want to just… draw a panel by panel recreation of an re puzzle. no thanks 🤣. but it felt like maybe skipping a little too much to not mention it at all.

we shoooooould be timeskipping next time tho. chris has made his intentions clear so hopefully it will be less jarring when i just… go there.

i am going to be so happy once these sharks are dealt with you guys don’t even know.

also I am so relieved to get something posted this month.

[glitchfang]

i would like to study leon. he fascinates me in a way i dont think was intentional.

[nanaslutt]

roommates!gojo & geto jerking each other off while thinking abt their cute neighbor they both want soooo bad

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

“do it harder.” geto groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he laid back against satoru’s pillows. said man currently had his hand wrapped around his cock, albeit poorly. his hand was soft as fuck, but he was touching him like he had never touched a dick before. “jerk me off how you jerk yourself off.”

gojo snorted, his words breathy as he spoke, “what if i like it soft?” geto shook his head and curled his toes when gojo wrapped his hand around him tighter. “these walls are thin, i’ve heard you having sex and i know you don’t like it soft. those poor girls.”

gojo laughed, “they love it, i think she would love it too.” he said. geto licked his lips, starting to paint an image in his head. “what would you do to her?” he asked tentatively, his eyebrows furrowing together when gojo focused on his cock head like the bastard he was.

“mmm i think id start with fingering her.” gojo said. “i’ve seen her a couple times in the laundry room bend over in those tiny shorts—you know the ones. and her-“ he stopped talking to groan when geto stroked over a particularly sensitive vein. “they don’t cover much.”

geto nodded, seeing you bent over in his head. “you think she’s sensitive?” geto asked, cracking his eyes open to peek at gojo. his eyes were lidded and focused on the hand around his cock. geto tried not to shy away when he felt his pre cum drip into his hand. he’d never jerked anyone off before—besides himself.

“oh yeah,” gojo responded, biting his plush lip. for some reason it made geto’s mouth water. “i think… fuck, i think i could make her squirt with just my fingers.” gojo’s face was getting flushed now. it made geto want to tease him. “yeah?” he asked, squeezing his hand tighter around his shaft and relishing in his reaction when he sucked in a breath through his teeth and arched his back. “would you make her squirt all over our couch?”

gojo moaned at his filthy words and nodded, his head tipping back against the headboard. “yeah.” geto nodded, looking at his roommate even though his eyes were closed. “what would you do if i walked in when you were making her cum?” he asked, paying attention to the head of his cock.

“i-id let you suck my fingers clean.” he groaned, making geto’s balls throb at the visual. “god, she’d probably get so hot… trying to press her thighs together watching me suck your fingers.” gojo nodded, his mouth falling open in a small O.

“would you want her pussy or her ass?” geto asked, his breath coming more quickly. “ass, i know it’s so tight and warm. god. would you want her at the same time?” geto nodded despite him being unable to see. “yeah, just think about how good she would look with tears down her face trying to take us both.”

suddenly, a hand way being wrapped around his wrist. geto opened his eyes fully and watched with rapt attention as gojo cursed before his back arched. he continued stroking him, despite knowing what was gonna happen. he cringed when hot ropes of cum spilled from his dick, coating his hand and his cock and making a lewd sound from the stroking.

gojo gripped geto’s wrist to stop him, and geto pulled it away and made a face at the mess on his hand. gojo also had stopped jerking him off, just weakly holding his throbbing cock. “that did it for you huh?” he teased. gojo laughed before removing his hand from geto’s cock.

gojo crawled off the edge of the bed and bent down to grab a towel to wipe his cock clean with. geto gripped his cock and languidly started stroking, waiting for gojo to help him get off. “your turn, one minute man. come keep this fantasy going so i can blow all over your hand and pretend it’s hers.”

a cruel smile twisted on gojo’s face before he dropped the towel and zipped his pants back up. “i’m sure you can finish yourself off.” getos mouth opened in disbelief. “if you need some help, i have porn from last night still up on my laptop, feel free to check it out. it’s really good stuff.” with a wink, he left geto gaping and alone in HIS room with his stiff cock in his hand.

fucking biiiitch.

[empresskylo]

of fucking course simon riley has your location on. he needs to make sure you're safe. likes to keeps tabs on you. he says he’s completely normal about it, but that is a lie--he obsessively checks it.

and he knows all your common locations: your apartment, your friend’s place, the grocery store, the target you like to go to. so when he sees you at a random address one evening, your little marker on the map not moving,--meaning you’re not just driving past--he raises a brow. he immediately texts you. and when you don’t respond, he’s calling you.

and when you don’t answer… he’s in his truck faster than he thought he could move, beelining it straight for your mysterious location.

and when he pulls up in front of someone’s house, watching as you walk out the front door, laughing at something the man trailing you says, he’s furious. he was worried you might have been hurt. in a sticky situation. but cheating on him didn’t even cross his mind.

he storms out of the truck and you look at him with a gasp. “simon? what’re you doing—?”

“who the fuck is that?” he demands, gesturing to the guy behind you.

“simon…” you say exasperated. “i told you yesterday I was meeting up with friends to plan her bachelorette party.”

his eyes soften slightly, but he’s still reaching for you, hands wrapping around your arms. “doesn’t answer my question.”

“this is her childhood friend.” he glares over your shoulder at him, like he doesn’t believe you. like he wants to kill him. “her gay childhood friend.” you add, hands on your hips, a little annoyed he’d embarrass you like this.

when he hauls you into his truck, he takes a few beats before he apologizes. “m’sorry, love. you weren’t answering your phone and when i saw you at some random—“ he stops mid-sentence as he glances over at you in the passenger seat, expecting you to be glaring at him, ready to tear him a new one. but much to his surprise, you’re taking your shirt off.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, his hands tightening on the wheel to stop from reaching over and touching you.

“that was the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” you whisper, a little embarrassed to admit it. but protective simon? the simon who was ready to beat a guy up just for making you laugh? yeah, that turned you on even if it shouldn’t.

he’s thankful it’s nighttime so no one driving past can see you topless in his truck. he’s also thankful the roads are rather empty this late on a weekday.

“wait till we get home, yeah?” he asks, his voice strained.

you shake your head. “simon, please,” you whine. “i can’t wait.”

he groans in his throat, knowing your place is only 5 more minutes away. he’s already hardening in his pants, and he’s tempted to pull over and drag you into the back seat. but he doesn’t. instead, he reaches his large hand and slides it over your thigh, his eyes on the road as he pushes your skirt up. and you bite your lip, holding back a moan as he rubs you over your underwear. “so fuckin’ wet,” he says astonished.

you buck your hips up and he almost laughs. you weren’t kidding, you really couldn’t wait. he slips his fingers past your panties and dips them into your heat and you grab the door of the car for support, shutting your eyes. he starts a steady pace, his fingers making obscene sounds as they fuck you. you groan and mewl and simon worries he might not make it home either.

it takes you just about a minute to climax, your heat pulsing rapidly around his two fingers, earning a growl from simon. “fuckin’ hell, love,” he breathes, amazed at how fast and hard you came. loving that it was all because of him.

he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and he’s storming around to your side, trying to get you to put your shirt back on, desperate to get you inside. he hauls you over his shoulder, his hand resting on your skirt so no one accidentally gets a free show. “naughtily little thing,” he hums to himself. “can't wait to properly punish you.”

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