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foolinafable · 7 months ago

Text

squeeze you in

SYNOPSIS: Viktor barely has the time, but he makes it for you PAIRING: Viktor x reader WORDCOUNT: 5.2K TAGS: S1 Arcane, set around Act 1 and before Act 2, 5 year age gap, assuming arcane uses weekdays and seasons. Fem pronouns towards the end NOTES: spent all weekend writing this, hope you all enjoy. try not to mind any editing errors

This was decidedly a bad idea. Wandering the halls of the academy at night wasn’t dangerous, even with the recent attack from the undercity, that's if you could even really call it an attack. To you, it seems to be children getting involved in things they shouldn’t. You could remember them now, the swirls of brown, red and blue running along the roofs of Piltover after the explosion in the apartments of the academy. While many around you felt fear, all you saw were children. Sure, they looked only a few years your junior, but even Heimerdinger tells you that you are only on the cusp of adulthood, still shadowed by childish tendencies. You suppose that he is correct; twenty is only one year off nineteen, and that age is considered a teenager despite its adult allowances.

You take a deep breath as your hand curls around the handle to Heimerdinger's office, unsure as to why you feel so nervous. It’s not as if you're stealing anything but rather retrieving it. You had foolishly left behind your notebook during your meeting with him when it had been interrupted by the council having an impromptu meeting, something you are sure had something to do with Talis. You needed it for a meeting the next morning with another professor about your dissertation, your last piece of work as a student at the academy, and you couldn't go to the meeting without it. Least you look unprepared, surely your job offer as a researcher for the academy could be rescinded if you didn’t appear completely committed.

So, despite your better judgement, your anxiety outweighed it as usual as you slowly opened the door to the dean, your mentor's room. You crept inside, even though nobody was around, afraid even the slightest noise could get you caught snooping after hours. Quickly, you found your notebook on the chair. You had left it opposite Heimerdinger's desk; he preferred it when you told him of your research and studies without the aid of your writings, so you had placed it next to your body on the chair. You picked it up, signing in relief that this was as easy as you hoped, when another notebook caught your attention, one that certainly wasn't on the desk when you left. Curiousity about getting the better of you as you reach for it, opening it to the first page, eyes widening at the text ‘If found, please return to Jayce Talis'. Your mind quickly remembered an interaction you had overheard in this very office earlier that day.

You were walking the path towards Heimerdinger's office, only this time it was daytime, the sun was out despite the slight winter chill warming anyone in its path. You slowed as you got towards your mentor's office, frowning at the sound of voices coming from inside. Did you get the time wrong? You wondered, looking down at your watch, showing that you were, in fact, on time. Your hands are sweaty now, anxiety crawling at the idea of interrupting, deciding to stay outside for a few moments to calm down.

“Why can’t I read it?” An exacerbated voice rang out, his accent making your face feel hot

“That Talis’ work was dangerous; the explosions in the city were proof of that; you don’t need to be involved, Viktor”, Heimerdinger's voice rang out, proud as always

“I hardly see how simply reading what he was working on is such a bad thing. I thought the greatest scientific ventures were the ones that bent the rules of the institution.” The man Viktor, you assume, tries to manoeuvre the conversation to his favour, but Heimerdinger is seemingly having none of it. Moving closer to where you are by the door as if to get the boy out of his office, you quickly knock on the door, worried that he would open the door and see you eavesdropping. Both voices stop at the sound of the knock, and Heimerdinger quickly opens the door. You awkwardly smile at the dean, eyes rising to meet the amber ones of the other body occupying the room.

“Can I come back later?” You twiddle your fingers, nervousness wracking your body at interrupting whatever this is

“No, no, come in”, Heimerdinger exclaims, pulling you by the hand into his office, yelping at the sudden contact as he continues to speak. “We were done here anyways”, his eyes solely on Viktor, who seemed to have mellowed out your presence, quickly giving his goodbyes before leaving the room, closing it behind him.

So this was what the man was interested in, what he was forbidden from reading. You tap your fingers on the book cover before quickly placing your notebook on top of it, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth as you quickly depart from the office, might as well make all your worries worthwhile.

—

It wasn’t until later the next day you saw the man you were looking for; it was early afternoon, and you were packing up after having lunch when a head of unruly brown hair caught your eye, sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, coffee in one hand sandwich in the other. Grabbing Jayces book, which you had procured the night before, you quickly made your way towards the man before you lost your cool. Unceremoniously dropping the book in front of the man whose eyes darted from you to the book, mouth opening and closing in clear shock.

“I hope whatever is in there is worth it,” you muttered, adjusting your bag on your shoulder before turning to leave.

“I-how?” Viktor called out, but you only replied with a cheeky smile, finger covering your mouth in secrecy as you walked away, thinking that to be the only interaction you would have with your mentor's other protege when his voice called out to you, not so far behind

“Wait”

You stood stock still as he approached quicker than you would’ve thought given his cane, but you suppose it was a silly thought that an ailment could stop a man on a mission. Once he catches up with you, he continues to walk, so you join him, slightly confused as to what he may now want.

“Have you read it?” he asks.

“It would be a lie to say I don't know of its content,” you replied, noticing his smile at your remark, eyes sparkling with wonder.

“What did you think?”

“I think...” You trail off, trying to come up with the right words as you both round a corner. “What he wants to do is revolutionary...” Your words scamper off slightly as you notice his eyes on the side of your face.

“But” he reads your mind.

“But”, you echo “I am unsure if he completely knows what he is doing or how he plans to do it”, trying to be as vague as possible due to the students scattered all around “I wrote some notes”, you gesture to the book “Things I thought could be helpful, I assume that's why you wanted it, to learn”

“And how did you get it?” he wonders aloud. “Last time I checked, Heimerdinger wasn't giving out illegal independent research to anyone”, he said with a smile on his face.

“Let's just say it certainly wasn't by asking nicely,” you tease, matching his grin with one of your own “Well, you should probably go read and hide that before Heimerdinger sends out a search party for it.”

“I probably should” Viktor smiles as he turns back the way the two of you came, the book held tightly in his unoccupied hand.

Continuing to walk the way you had been, you couldn’t help but feel relief at the fact that the book was now out of hands and the man, Viktor, seemed just as keen to keep this a secret as you did, even if you did spend all night essentially peer reviewing Jayce Talis’ work, unfortunately, your need to stay out of trouble with your superiors greatly outweighed your want to indulge in what he and assumedly Viktor was planning, you could only hope that your words you had spent all night working on where a help instead of a hindrance. You especially wanted to know how Viktor would take the words you wrote specifically for him at the front of the book:

‘The greatest scientific ventures are the ones that bend the rules of the institution’

—

One of the benefits of being the dean's newest protege was that the academy gave you your lab, a small space just for you, it even had your name on a metal plaque on the door, probably due to the academy's narcissism, thinking that they would keep you even after your graduation, not that they were wrong. A fact that slightly irritated you.

You didn’t usually get many visitors, just Heimerdinger, to see what you were working on, but those meetings were usually scheduled so he could ensure you were tallying in your lab and not at one of your usual haunts like the library. So you couldn’t help but jump at the sound of a knock on your door, eyebrows furrowed as you called out to whoever stood outside your door.

“Come in!”

Your confusion lingered as Viktor walked in. It had only been a few days since you’d given him Jayce’s book, and from what you had heard, the two were now employed to continue Jayce’s studies non-illegally this time, being funded by Councilwoman Medarda, which they have named ‘Hextech’

“You’re not an easy woman to get ahold of”, Viktor claims as he takes a seat at your desk “I have been stopping by your room for a few days, but you were never in”, he continues, eyes piercing as he takes in the view of you, stood by another desk filled with colanders and Bunsen burners

“You sound like Heimerdinger when you say that” You smiled slightly in truth, scoffing at the face he made, clearly not appreciative of your parallel “What?” you laugh “he has said similar things on various occasions”

“I understand why,” he remarked.

“I spend a lot of time in the library, researching. Especially at the moment with final deadlines coming in, as I’m sure you remember,” he hummed at your explanation “And it’s not as if I’m a professor with allocated office hours, I don't need to be here,” you tell him passively looking back at your work at the table, deciding to turn off the flame not going to get any worthwhile work done until he's gone.

“So what can I do for you?” you asked when the man still sat in silence, seemingly comfortable to just watch you work he blinked, taken away from wherever he went upon registering your words.

“Oh well, I just wanted to thank you, Jayce, as well, for getting his book and your notes, they were more than helpful with working through the kinks in his theory- instrumental really to the breakthrough”, he admitted somewhat bashfully, stumbling over his words a little not that you noticed nervousness crawling up your spine at his approval of your words.

“Oh, um, you're welcome. I mean, a fresh pair of eyes is always helpful..” you murmur, unsure of yourself now as he stares at you, not daring to make eye contact, knowing it will only make your nerves worse.

“We were wondering, Jayce and I, if you would read some of our other research in the future, help us out. We would give out any references in the future for any work you do after study” he speaks delicately, soft and slow and if worried, he would scare you off like a child being caught doing something they shouldn’t. Your heart seems to slow from its anxious thumping as you contemplate his offer.

“I don't see why not”, you ponder absentmindedly, but your mind is already made up.

“Really?” he asked, though he didn’t sound shocked, more like he was trying to egg more words out of you.

“If you can find me, that is” You smile, the nerves falling away from you as he laughs a little

“I’ll go tell Jayce the good news; he's going to be over the moon. You didn’t hear it from me, but he has always wanted to work with you. He said something about loving your approach in an article about the arcane:” You looked at the man again, but he simply walked out of the room, not sparing you another word. You had honestly forgotten that your last article had been published, and the fact that academics that you knew had read it and enjoyed it made a smile appear on your face, maybe this was going to be better than you had thought.

—

A routine had been established this past few months, as winter made way for spring, you had found yourself in a comfortable pattern with the boys.

Once a week, on a Wednesday, you would spend the entire day in your lab working, and at some point, Jayce or Viktor would drop by with some work for you to look through and maybe a comment or two on things you had written the week before. These meetings were usually brief as they quickly needed to get back to work, so you would spend hours going through papers, tweaking diagrams, and sometimes even trekking to the library for a book that might help them. It wouldn’t be until the sun had made way for the moon in the sky that you would be done, taking the work down several corridors and stairs to get to their workspace, where they would still be working to drop them off. The two would then call it time for a break, so the three of you would scamper your way to the cafeteria for a change of scenery while you all ate the food you packed for lunch but had yet to get to.

Today, however, Viktor seemed hellbent on breaking the schedule the three of you had unknowingly created. He had appeared at your lab, maybe a little earlier than he or Jayce usually decided to grace you with their presences, but it was of no matter to you, honestly, the earlier, the better, as it meant you may finish earlier than the hour of the wolf. He did bring a stack of papers with him, but instead of dropping them at your desk, sharing a few complimentary words, and then leaving, he dropped the work at your desk and then sat himself in the new chair he and Jayce had procured that was placed on the other side of your desk so they would have somewhere to sit, not that either of them had used it up until now.

“You alright?” you ask, grabbing the top paper from the pile, you could immediately tell this was Jayce’s as the handwriting is much neater and the use of a very inky pen you quickly grabbed your pink pen and started to read the words on the page only to look up and give the man a sarcastic glower at his lack of words to which he simply smiled, not even the slightest bit disheartened by your look.

“Jayce is off for the day, something to do with his sponsorship with the Kirammans. Told me to take the day off” he shuffled in the chair, attempting to get comfy as his hand grabbed at your notebook, deciding that he would read through some of your work for once

“And you have decided to spend your time here? Doing more work?” you questioned, though not paying the man much attention, mumbling to yourself on the words on the page, completely unphased by Viktor’s lack of decorum, it’s not as if it’s the first time he got bored and decided to read it. “Would mixing it with metal only make it more unstable?” you mutter, not expecting an answer “As an alloy, maybe, or would that make it worse..” you tap the pen on your cheek in thought before scrambling to write your thoughts in the margins of Jayce’s research

“I don’t see reading through your essays and research papers as work”, he admits, a shameless smile gracing his face as he watched you mumble to yourself “More of a palate cleanser, really”

“I just thought that a rest day was supposed to be resting, like having time away from work?” you tried to put the idea of leaving and maybe getting some sleep into the man’s head, his eyebags were becoming a permanent feature on his face like a shadow he cannot be rid of.

“Quite hypocritical, don’t you think?” a teasing look on his face at your words “Is today not also your day off?” he questioned even though he knew the answer. You simply rolled your eyes, trying to smile as he barked out a laugh.

While today was your break from lessons, it had quickly become anything but a rest day after you took the boys up on their offer, there was no way that you could complete your last year's work and help them if you didn’t give up your rest day- so undoubtedly you were a hypocrite, much to your chagrin.

“Just because I give up my days off to help you doesn’t mean you need to do the same,” you tell him, not wanting the man to feel obligated to help you.

“Maybe I want to?”

Well, you can’t argue with that.

The two of them work on your rather small desk with an ease you wouldn’t expect, but you find yourself very comfortable working alongside him and somehow, the work seems to go by faster.

Maybe it was because you wouldn’t need to spend countless hours trying to figure out what chicken scratch either of them had written on your own. Instead, a second pair of eyes, Viktor’s eyes, made the process go by much faster, albeit with some laughter at what on earth either of them had written. You had even managed a trip to the library, something you rarely had time for, usually going to pick up books for the boys the day after, or Jayce would go the day after with a slip of paper. Not only did you and Viktor have the time to pick up some books, but you also went through and verified if they could have something useful inside.

The sun was still shining bright in the sky when you and Viktor had dropped everything off at his lab, still a few hours left of the day. It was an uncharacteristically nice day outside, certainly warmer than you would’ve expected from the spring in Piltover, so the two of you decided to eat your packed lunches outside on a bench within the academy grounds, both too tired to bother going exploring the city for somewhere nicer.

“Now you have helped me, do you think I could convince you to go home and get some sleep, the bags under your eyes are also large enough to be considered their entities” You smiled, laughing quietly at the man sitting next to you as he coughed back his food, clearly not expecting your smartmouth

“As if you’re one to talk”, he quipped as you let out a shocked gasp, though quickly matching his smile

“How about I promise to go back to my apartments and take a breather if you go to yours?” you propositioned. Honestly, some time in bed sounded heavenly

“Only if I walk you back, I don’t want you to sneak back to your office, I hear you can often find yourself in places you aren’t supposed to”, he joked

“It’s a deal then” Both of you chose not to comment on the matching grins on your faces.

—

When Heimerdinger said your last year of study would be the hardest, you believed him. But never did you imagine you could be so swamped.

This past week, you had corralled a table in the library to yourself, spending more time sitting in the uncomfortable seat than anywhere else. It was deadline season, and to say it was hitting you hard was an understatement. No matter how well prepared you thought you were, the workload was unimaginable, leaving you with barely enough time to sleep or eat. Jayce had joked that during his last year, he essentially became a book within the library, and while it was funny at the time now, you understood why, feeling more and more like an encyclopedia by the day.

Luckily for you, your self-imprisonment was soon coming to an end; all you needed to do was read through your coursework one more time, and it would all be done, your last piece of work as a student of the academy. You would dwell on its bittersweetness another time as you read through another paragraph, completely absorbed in your work, completely missing the familiar sounds of footsteps and the tapping of a cane coming your way.

“I swear I need to get a tracker on you” Your head shot up at the sound of Viktor’s voice

“I’m not that hard to find”, you complain as he sits himself down in the chair closest to yours, cane leaning against the table

“I don’t think you get much of a say on the matter, your not the one who has to aimlessly wander around the academy”

“Whatever”, you glower, attempting to get back to your reading when his hand reaches out to grab yours. you jolt, looking up as he intertwines your fingers

“How are you doing be honest” he holds eye contact as his thumb rubs at your index fingers, stopping just after he knuckle before traveling back up

You smile “I’m drowning”

he hums “I can tell” You slump rather unceremoniously into your chair, eyes closed as he continues to rub affectionately at your knuckle, a half-hearted attempt to seep all the tension away from you “Have you got much more to do?” he questions voice soft

“No, just need to read through it once more, then it should be good to submit” You let out a large breath of annoyance, wishing you were finished, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep

“Then you’re done?” he probes

“Completly done, well, until my contract starts as a researcher in the summer”, you clarify, eyes opening slightly, not missing the slight smile on his face, looking down when you heard a rustling of papers only to see Viktor’s non-occupied hand grabbing at your work.

“Take a break; I’ll give it the last read-through. Knowing you, it’s already perfect.” his soft yet stern voice didn’t leave much room for argument, so you closed your eyes again, only for a moment letting the constant feel of his thumb lull you into a calm you had never known.

It was only, however, when you heard the unmistakable voice of Jayce that your eyes opened again, you sent a sheepish smile his way at the admittance that you had, in fact, fallen asleep, trying not to laugh too loudly at his remarks on how much Viktor must have been boring you, if only he knew.

—

Since you had officially handed in all your work and your classes had finished, you now found yourself with a lot of free time, a prospect Viktor and Jayce very much enjoyed. Coming every morning to your door to walk you to their lab for a day of work. Not that you minded, but before Hextech, your plans for the summer would’ve been reading or doing whatever Heimerdinger would see as befitting, so the work was beneficial to you, stopping you from going extensional on what it is you want to dedicate your academic life to, especially since you had no ideas, other than those to help the boys revolutionalise hextech, their current program with the hexgates you were sure was due a breakthrough any day.

You found yourself sat at Jayces desk, him gone for the afternoon schmoozing with some counsellors to try and get as much funding off them as he could. You found yourself tapping along to the melody of the song Viktor had put on, the only time you could have music was when Jayce was out, as he claimed it was too stimulating for him. Working exactly where the man had left off, creating a small prototype of the hexgate, one of many that were to be used in tests planned for later in the week. You barely batted an eye as Viktor appeared next to you, used to him appearing closer than most would

“It’s looking good”, he gestured to the model in your hand you simply hummed in response, adding the final gear, shoulders slumping when you put it down.

“How many do we need again?” you ask, hands rubbing at the tension in your neck from huddling to get a good look at what you were doing.

“Too many”, you groaned at his sheepish admittance. It was silent for a moment or so before he spoke again, an unknown quality to his voice that made you look up at him in confusion.

“Jayce and I were thinking..” he trailed off slightly

“Oh no”, you joked, smiling when you caught the amusement now on his face

“I know, how scary”, he smirked “Anyway, as you’re coming back as a scientist for the academy, we thought, why not make your place with us permanent.”

“Really?” you questioned, do they honestly want you to help them all the time with the work that could improve lives and be the history pages?

“I don’t think we’d be able to function without you now” he admitted

“I’d love to,” you tell him smiling

“Good”, the relief flooded the man “Because we already asked and got the go-ahead from Heimerdinger”, he confessed

“That confident?” you teased

“Obviously”

—

You thought you had done a good job at pretending that today was just any other day, but clearly, as Viktor sat next to you with a cupcake with a candle in it - you had been wrong.

“How did you know today was my birthday? I didn’t tell anyone?” you asked, astonished.

“Heimerdinger told me”, he revealed after you stared at him, clearly pleased with himself

“How does that end up in conversation?” you wonder

“Don’t be so nosey”, he teases, hand coming to grab at your nose

“Says the one who went to our mentor to ask about my personal life”, you accused, but the large smile on your face showed no malice in your words

“Touche”, he forfeited this round, lighting the candle on the cake before pushing it back into your face you simply sent him a look of victory before blowing out the candle, he quickly disposed of the candle before giving you the cake to eat

“Got any big plans for twenty-one?” he wondered aloud

“Work with you” You shrugged your shoulders, laughing lightly as you dug into your birthday cake

“A noble pursuit, I’m sure” It was silent for a short while as you finished your cake, but you didn’t make a move to speak, knowing the look on his face, he wasn’t done “Not going out celebrating? With a boyfriend, maybe?”

“No, no boyfriend, never had the time for any of that. Heimerdinger told me that when a woman dedicates her life to academia, she does not bother dreaming of a family or a relationship, and I agree not many would be able to handle it. Why do you ask?” you admit

“Don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes is all”, he speaks nonachanlty despite his words being anything but

“Well, your not”, you promise, lacing a hand with his

“Good” he brings your hand up his lips

—

You both had way too much stuff. The prospect of moving in together while still exciting the amount of work you had left made you gnaw at your bottom lip. You had a lot of help from Jayce and a rather reluctant Caitlyn to get the boxes into your and Viktor’s new home, and while she commented on its quaintness, it was certainly bigger than anywhere the two of you had ever dreamt of living in

“A family home”, Heimerdinger had teased the two of you when you told him, and you suppose he was right. You didn’t think much about the two spare rooms when you had purchased the house, thinking they would probably be offices, but Viktor absolute reluctance and disdain at your idea to turn one of the rooms into a library after looking at the sheer amount of books the two of you owned made you think differently, it wouldn’t take a smart man to know what he wanted to do with them.

“Stop that” Viktor pulled your bottom lip away from your teeth, an annoyed glint in his eyes, clearly thinking about how many times he had told you those same words you simply kissed his thumb, making him smile at your affection

“There’s so much to do”, you inwardly groaned as you rested your head on his shoulder, making sure not to put too much of your weight on him

“We have the week; don’t need to do it all tonight”, he reminds you, giving a kiss on the top of your head

“Come on, I’ve already started in our room” You straighten up and follow him into your room looking at the picture frames he had already put around the room, one was placed on his bedside table, a photo Jayce had taken at your graduation with your cap and gown arms warped around Viktor a huge smile, all teeth as you look at the camera while Viktor is smiling proudly looking at you, smiling at the photo you move on to the frame he placed on the dresser, a piece of paper framed within it your hands grip the frame looking at the familiar words you had written:

‘The greatest scientific ventures are the ones that bend the rules of the institution’

You turned to the man who was busying himself with a box filled with jumpers you had never seen him wear

“You kept this?” you smile as he turns around, noticing his bashful expression at being caught.

“You holding it, arent you?” he asked, trying to drive the conversation

“Why,” you asked, not giving up so easily even as he caressed your face in an attempt to distract you groaning, he relented, he could not give you what you wanted, ever so spoiled by him you were

“At first, it was to remind me that it was all worth it”

“At first?” you echo

“Then I kept it because it reminded me of you, of the future I want us to have, and that will only be possible if I kept working, even if it means going beyond the council and what they want.”

“I was only shadowing your view, what you had said to Heimerdinger, something I wasn’t even supposed to hear”, you remind him.

“Well, I’m glad you did”, he admits “And I’m even more glad that you stole Jayces book because bending the rules is what brought us together”, his hand not on his cane gripped at your hip.

“I’m glad I did, too”, you confirm your words with a kiss.

#viktor arcane x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #arcane x reader #arcane

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beforetimes · 4 months ago

Note

Foaming at the mouth at the mere mention of role reversal Binghe and Yuan, don't mind me

Also don't mind me just spitballing here, you can take this as a prompt or not! But can you imagine Binghe's reaction to seeing Shen Yuan years in the future, probably still at Jinlan city? Not only is he taking in how different Shen Yuan looks, either in regards to how the abyss changed him or just how he's grown, but Binghe doesn't have prior knowledge that Shen Yuan would live through the abyss.

Can you imagine the shock? The misunderstanding as Binghe doesn't react to anything because he's still processing that his beloved disciple is THERE, he's ALIVE. He was though to be dead for years, but somehow he survived the abyss.

heyyyy anon so glad that i’ve managed to inspire the same obsession in you that’s spawned in me seemingly overnight. anddd i didn’t even consider the possibility of this scene when i came up with this scenario but let me try my hand at what it’d look like… also i know i wrote his name all as shen yuan in this but i only noticed after i finished and i don't want to rewrite. smile. enjoy!!

[og au post here!]

…

Jinlan city carries with it a chilled breeze, curled up quietly against Luo Binghe’s skin under the edges of his robe, where flesh meets air. Face impassive, mouth a straight line and eyes heavy with poison-bourne-exhaustion only a few hours into the trip, everything spells out the path to his inevitable turning in for the night soon. The sun’s joined in his lulling to slumber, touching the horizon as the sky turns orange from blue.

Luo Binghe drifts, a reed swaying in the wind by the riverside as he investigates the town, slipping away from Liu Qingge and Mu Qingfang to survey the ghost town in his lonesome.

Everything is par for the course, almost mundane enough that Luo Binghe feels a muted frustration grab at the epicentre of his chest, wrapped around the raw meat of his heart. Always muted, desaturated and less than every sensation could be, as though Shen Yuan took with him a shred of Luo Binghe. If he were an artist, then Shen Yuan wasn’t just his muse but every hue of colour, enshrined in Luo Binghe’s memory in smudges of peach, white, green, and rosy pinks.

Of course, Luo Binghe hasn’t felt like much of anything in a long time. Every day feels like going through familiar, pre-determined motions, drifitng in and out of classes with a commitment inspired in him that never possessed him before the Immortal Alliance Conference. Even this mission, a slight deviation from the norm, feels easy enough to slot into a quiet part of his mind, where everything mundane gathers dust. Months, almost years worth of memories tucked away in a damp corner.

This should be more of the same. Luo Binghe is anticipating nothing else.

Then—a figure bumps into him, bringing him to a stumbling halt.

He’s practiced; the figure picks up speed when his gaze passes over them, so Luo Binghe pursues, numbness clenching at the hollow of his chest like a bird nipping fingers. Short bursts of static aimed at his hummingbird heart as he ducks into shadowy alleyways, a maze bringing him eventually to the second story of a seemingly-abandoned home.

Hand resting on his sword, Luo Binghe creeps up the stairs. Opening to a room, his gaze skips over the furniture in his first sweep before he stills at the sight of the balcony. Silhouette traced against the setting sun, the figure lowers their hood as Luo Binghe unsheaths his spiritual weapon. Its hardly silent, and the figure’s face snaps over to meet Luo Binghe’s eyes.

Lightning strikes, a shock to the heart.

Shen Yuan exhales a moment later, and it hurts almost twice as bad.

“Shizun…” He says, words so quiet he’s almost mouthing them to himself. Cultivation pulled from the equation, Luo Binghe doesn’t think he would have heard them. Here, however, they twist a blade into his palpating, trembling chest. “It’s really you here?”

He opens his mouth but words loathe to creep past his throat and spill over his teeth. Luo Binghe can only stare, drinking in details he never dared imagine, his disciple last remembered bloodied and sobbing at the ridge of a gorge touched by years Luo Binghe thought Shen Yuan had lost because of his Shizun’s incompetence.

Gone are the gentle greens and whites of Qing Jing Peak, replaced with navy blue, near black, and charcoal gray robes that layer over themselves thrice over, as though Shen Yuan tries to keep himself warm. His face lost its last vestiges of baby fat, severe green eyes dulled yet still imbued with life. Hair shiny, longer, left in a simple updo unbefitting of Qing Jing Peak’s strict standards. Luo Binghe’s mind wanders back to hazy mornings spent brushing his disciple’s hair before he’s forcefully yanked back to the present.

“I suppose Shizun suspects this lowly demon to be responsible for the plague?” Shen Yuan asks, unsurprised yet words saddled with inexplicable defeat. “With word from Qing Jing Peak’s immortal master against this one, I suppose there’s no point in dragging out the inevitable trial, though Shizun can decide if this one should dare show his face to the other Peak Lords Shizun’s brought with him.”

“Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe manages to croak, mind speeding to such an extent that forcing words out feels like fighting past a hot charcoal shoved down his throat.

“Or,” Shen Yuan continues, as though uninterrupted, starting to pace in a way so familiar and practiced that any imagined excuses of possession or imitation vanish themselves from Luo Binghe’s mind, “Or maybe Shizun wants to bring this stupid evil demon to the Sect Leader himself before executing him—maybe he wants to claim the glory of becoming Jinlan’s saviour, maybe—maybe Shizun wants this disciples head on a spike, or—“

Shen Yuan whips around, eyes burning into Luo Binghe’s with intensity that would unwaver him if he wasn’t already off-balance. Hazy and near-floating, feeling his heart beat outside his frail body. Despite the weight of it, there’s a vulnerable desperation that robs him of breath, too reminiscent of days Shen Yuan spent at the end of Luo Binghe’s bed on days where the world pinned him to the sheets without mercy. Violent and fervent hope seems to overtake Shen Yuan.

“Or maybe Shizun just—? WIll—this one knows that Shizun wants… But everything else has changed, I can— This one—Maybe Shizun wants me to live?”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Luo Binghe manages to say, and watches Shen Yuan’s expression freeze before shuttering, scrubbed away from a too-pale face and replaced with a jade-like twist to his lips so cold it feels as though it cuts at Luo Binghe’s skin.

He reaches out and Shen Yuan flinches.

You’re supposed to be dead, Luo Binghe thinks, standing days away from home yet able to feel the press of grass and stone under his knees as he stares at a solitary grave in Qing Jing Peak’s bamboo forest.

You’re supposed to be dead, he thinks, watching Shen Yuan turn from disciple to stranger, any hope in his former student's shoulders deflating until Shen Yuan’s taking up very little space, completely unaware he’s done it at all.

You’re supposed to be dead, Luo Binghe thinks, remembering every single conversation with Liu Qingge where they both quietly tell themselves there’s no body, there’s always a chance. They both knew they were lying to each other. I mourned you. I mourned you I mourned you I mourned you.

In the same room, Shen Yuan retreats, and despite being closer than they have been in years, Luo Binghe can feel the channel of one-sided hatred between the two of them grow ever-deeper.

masterpost

#svsss #svsss au #svsss headcanon #svsss fic #scum villain #scum villain au #scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #bingqiu #shizun luo binghe #disciple shen yuan #milez writing #milez asks!#milez's role swap au

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shadowkoo · 4 months ago

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Up In Flames - Part 1

→ Summary: When your sister calls with an emergency, you drop everything to house-sit while she’s out of town. What she forgets to mention is that her fiancé’s friend, a handsome stranger who might have saved your life earlier, is already expecting to stay there too. Awkwardly sharing the space, you manage to get through two weeks with Seungcheol—only to unexpectedly cross paths again when he saves you from another dangerous situation outside your therapist’s office.

Seungcheol, a wildland firefighter, is back in the city taking his leave and debating whether to join Station 17 or return home. While sorting out his own issues, he keeps finding himself in situations where he has to save you—the fiery, stubborn little sister of his best friend’s fiancée who has a terrible habit of calling him the most obnoxious nicknames ever. Despite your resistance to being rescued (and his denial of how much you affect him), the sparks between you two continue to ignite. As you grow closer, it’s only a matter of time before everything goes up in flames.

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | Part 1 = 18.9k (42.7k words total, i’m so sorry but also not really 🗿) | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, action, slow burn, firefighter au, author au, damsel in distress au, ‘let me help you’ wildland firefighter!cheol x ‘i can do it myself’ miss independent yet clumsy!reader

→ Warnings: fire, car accident, extreme burns, graphic & traumatic death of non-significant characters (read at your own risk!), seungcheol suffers from panic attacks and ptsd, solo masturbating (seungcheol gets a lil freaky in the bathroom one morning), grinding in a hot tub, fingering, protected & unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex, cheol is a proud muncher, body worship, taking plan b, jealous coups, slight possessive coups, breast play, nipple sucking & biting, dirty talk, soft sex, rough sex, creampie, praise, begging, aftercare, stripping, heavy teasing & banter, tongue fucking, cheol loves to rub himself through your fold, praise kink, semi-public sex (cheol fucks you hard against a firetruck), injury, cuts, smoke inhalation and other dangerous elements (again, please read at your own risk!)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiariesnet @keopihausnet

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: thanks to maren @wooahaeproductions and lexi @heechwe for helping me come up with some of these funny nicknames used in here a few months back! and a big thank you to booki @kwanisms for reading this over for me so last minute. this is the first fic of my station 17 collab, check it out here and stay tuned for the next fics from alta @haologram sevń @aaagustd and yannie @wonuwoe!!! dedicated to all my coups girlies, i know you’ll love this <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

→ READ PART 2 ⟡⋆⟡ SERIES MLIST ←

“No, no, no! Oh c’mon! This can’t be happening right now,” you whine, twisting your body so you can see the damage done after hearing the dreadful sound of fabric tearing.

Yep, your pants just ripped. Want to know what’s even worse? Your pink hello kitty underwear is showing right through the large tear on your left butt cheek.

You curse under your breath and pull your shirt down, trying to cover up as much as you can. This would have never happened if you just said no to your best friend and older sister, Kate.

See, Kate is in a very committed, loving relationship, and has been for the past four years. Unlike you, who has been on at least fifty horrible first dates, sometimes even second dates that never seem to go anywhere, in that same time frame.

She set you up with this supposedly amazingly hot, ultra-rich, single and ‘ready to commit’ guy she knew through a friend of a friend, blah blah blah. You should have known then how tonight was going to go. Of all the blind dates you had been on, this one easily became the worst.

It started alright, with a cute Pho restaurant in the middle of downtown being the meeting place. Seojoon waited outside for you with an umbrella since it had started to sprinkle, and even held open the door and helped you in your seat once inside.

But his good manners stopped there. For the rest of the night, he was extremely rude to the wait staff and condescending toward you, making it a miserable experience.

Needless to say, he deserved what you did. After you finally had enough, you not-so-accidentally let a ‘my god, shut the fuck up already’ slip out of your mouth. And yeah, you might have told him he has the emotional intelligence of a toad (and even that was too kind compared to what you really wanted to say).

Quickly after, you excused yourself and were more than ready to leave. But then you saw them. The perfect couple seated in the front half of the restaurant; your ex and the woman he left you for.

Which is why you ended up hiding in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, before deciding that escaping through the small window would be the best option. You used the toilet at leverage to boost yourself up (that was the easy part), gripped onto a nearby tree branch to pull yourself out the window, and then jumped out. It was during the ‘jumping out’ part when your pants got stuck on the branch and proceeded to rip.

The plan wasn’t perfect but it got you out of there, with ripped pants, but what the hell. At least you’re on your way to your car now, rather than being stuck in there with the three most odious people you have ever suffered through knowing.

You make it maybe three blocks before giving up on trying to cover your ass. Whatever, you’re almost back to your car now anyway.

“Oh, what now?” you sigh, digging through your purse for your phone that’s ringing somewhere in there. Your sister’s face lights up the screen; she’s probably calling to see how your date went.

“I hate you,” you grumble while unlocking your car, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“What? Why?” Kate questions, “I was calling for a favor. I didn’t even get to that, so you can’t hate me yet.”

“Tonight was my date with Seojoon and it ended with me climbing out the bathroom window.”

“Oh, Seojoon is so old news. Actually, I should have set you up with–”

“No, I’m stopping you right there,” you say, interrupting her. “I’m not going on any more blind dates with terrible men that you barely know.”

“But–”

“No.”

Kate sighs on the other line, “Okay, fine. I’ll drop it for now. Can we jump to what I was calling about?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Jun’s father had a heart attack and we’re on the way to the airport, can you house-sit for the next two weeks?”

You hesitate to answer and she uses the opportunity to persuade you.

“I know it’s a lot to ask but our food is obviously free game, we have the coziest living room for movies, the hot tub just had its routine maintenance, and I’ll even let you bring Mika. Please, please, please!”

Mika is your sweet but sassy husky, and Kate usually can't stand all that hair. So she must be pretty desperate if she’s letting your energetic furball mess up her peaceful mountain cabin.

“Okay, yeah. I should be able to make that work. Maybe I can finish my next book while I’m up there.”

“Oh thank god!” she celebrates, relieved that you can help out. “You’re the best. I love you so much.”

“You better,” you remark.

“I have to go, so I’ll make it quick. There’s a note on the fridge with some house rules because I know you’d say yes. I’ll text you when we land. Okay, bye! Thank you!” She rushes, quickly hanging up on you before you have the chance to change your mind

It didn’t take very long to grab Mika, some clothes, and the essentials once you had gotten back. In less than half an hour, you had the car packed and ready to go.

You’re now about an hour into the drive up to Kate and Junhui’s mountain home. Your sister’s house-sitting favor couldn’t have come at a better time. You finally feel like you can write again.

A couple of years ago you self-published a fantasy romance book, and out of nowhere, it went viral on BookTok. It’s been nice living off the royalties from its success, but you know your readers want another. The problem is you’ve lacked focus lately; always finding an excuse or something else to do in your free time.

But that’s going to change in the next few days.

"Is that...snow?" you mutter, squinting through the windshield as tiny white flecks swirl down in front of you. It’s basically spring in the city and you haven’t seen snow in weeks, forgetting that the temperature is colder up here. With the high elevation, though, it makes sense.

Mika barks from the passenger seat, her tail thumping excitedly as the flakes fall heavier, dotting the windshield. She presses her nose to the passenger window, eagerly watching the world turn white. Unlike you, she loves the snow and all things cold.

You sigh, imagining yourself on a beach somewhere, basking in the sun, with the hint of frost in nowhere sight. But yet, here you are driving through a surprise snowstorm with a husky who’s living her best life.

You ease up on the gas, knowing that the roads are probably going to get icy soon. Mika’s barks become louder and more frequent.

"No, Mika-Ika-Poo," you say, using one of her many ridiculous nicknames. It's a habit of yours to give everyone, pets and people alike, the most absurd nicknames possible. "You have to be quiet now."

Naturally, your attempt at shushing her only makes things worse. Mika tilts her head, lets out an even louder bark, and then starts whining excitedly as if your words were some sort of encouragement. You can’t help but smile; it’s impossible to keep her quiet, especially when she senses snow.

“You are so sassy today.” You reach an arm over to scratch her neck, she’s just being a dog after all.

Glancing back at the road, you slam on the brakes as you go around the next bend. A truck has crashed into an electricity pole, leaving live power lines strewn across the icy road. But it's too late to stop in time. The road is too slick, and you're already sliding forward.

Your car glides helplessly into the downed lines, tires screeching on the black ice. Before panic can even set in, the front of your vehicle erupts in flames, fire licking up the hood. Smoke quickly surrounds you, blackening the windows until visibility is gone. The stench of burning plastic fills the air, and the heat becomes unbearable. Everything around you vanishes in the thick, choking cloud, leaving you trapped in a suffocating haze.

Shit. Now what?

As Seungcheol drives along the winding road ahead of him, a thin wisp of smoke catches his eye, curling up through the trees ahead. It snakes its way into the sky, growing darker and thicker as he approaches. The distant haze drifts ominously, making his pulse quicken. Something’s definitely wrong up ahead.

He comes to a halt, taking in the scene before him. Twenty-foot flames engulf a car, tangled in the chaos of fragmented power lines, flickering wildly against the night sky. To the left, a pickup truck is smashed against the base of an electric pole, which has split and fallen over.

“Are you good?” he hollers to the truck driver; he’s outside of the vehicle and on the phone with what he assumes is emergency services. The man nods and points back to the car frantically, “Help her! I don’t know how to get her out!”

Seungcheol rushes back to his own vehicle and pulls out a fire extinguisher from his backseat. He chuckles to himself, he knew it would come in handy one day. Call it firefighter’s intuition.

He throws on his spare flame-resistant jacket and heads back towards the fire. If the gas tank leaks, things could go very, very wrong.

He pulls the pin on his fire extinguisher and sprays the car, aiming for the engine which is where he believes the fire began.

“Are you alright in there?” He asks once getting the situation mostly under control.

“No, I am not alright! My car is on fire in case you haven’t noticed?”

“Besides the car, are you hurt?”

“No. I don’t think so? Mika looks okay too.”

“Your baby?” His heart races, stomach bile rising in his throat. Not again.

“My dog.”

Seungcheol calms himself. It’s a dog. It’s just a dog.

“Can I get out? Is my car going to blow up?” the woman asks with a shaky voice.

“Um, that’s a good question. I’m not sure. But I don’t want you to worry. I’m a trained firefighter and we’re going to figure this out, okay?

“What do you mean you aren’t sure? Aren’t you supposed to know what to do in this situation?”

“Not really, I fight fires in the mountains, not usually cars that drive across active lines,” Seungcheol jokes.

“Of course, the universe would send me an incompetent firefighter in this situation.”

Seungcheol huffs, “I’m not incompetent, I was kidding. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N. I’m Seungcheol. I need a few minutes to think about the safest way to get you out, in the meantime I want you to remain calm.” He hears the faint wail of sirens in the distance. Help is almost here, but he can’t wait. The anxiety is clawing at his neck. He needs to save you. You can’t die too.

The thought of rescuing you from the vehicle feels like a dangerous gamble. One wrong move, and you could step on a live wire and electrocute yourself to death. Seungcheol’s mind races through everything he’s heard about accidents like this: stay in the car, don't touch metal, don’t risk it.

But he also knows that it’s only a matter of minutes until you’re out of safe breathing oxygen in the cabin, and time feels like it’s slipping away. He glances at the ground surrounding your car, finding the safest path for you.

“Okay, I have a plan,” he says, after going over it in his head. “Are you able to crawl to the backseat?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He listens to the sounds of your shuffling, “Okay, I’m in the back with the dog.”

“Good, I’m going to break your driver’s side window. Then I want you to climb back into the front and I’ll help you out.”

“No, I’ll give you my dog first.”

“Alright, the dog goes first. Listen, there’s a chance that when I break the window the airflow and pressure change might cause the fire in your engine to ignite again. I will take care of it, I don’t want you to worry.”

With a surge of adrenaline, he smashes the car window with the end of the fire extinguisher. Shards of glass scatter onto the seat, and the dog whines from the sudden noise.

He leans down and peeks his head inside, his eyes immediately locking with yours. You're huddled in the backseat, arms tightly wrapped around your large dog, seeking comfort. Your light brown hair is tousled, strands falling across your face, but it’s your vibrant green eyes that stand out, even in the dim light. There's a mixture of exhaustion and relief in them.

He gently takes the leashed dog from your arms. "I’ll be right back for you," he promises, stepping cautiously away from the car, avoiding wet spots, and keeping a wary eye on the live wires.

The police are the first to arrive. “Pop your backseat open, I’ll put the dog in there,” he says, and the officer quickly obliges, opening the door for him.

As he turns to head back for you, the fire and rescue team pulls up, jumping into action. He heads toward the firefighters who are assessing the power line situation.

“Look who it is,” a familiar face grins, walking up to hug his old friend.

“Mingyu, it’s good to see you.” Seungcheol hugs him back.

”I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. Always in the middle of the action. I gotta ask, are you interested in a job? We’ve got an opening if you’re sick of roughing it in the wilderness.”

“You know me well,” he smiles. “I’m on leave right now. Gotta work through some things. You know how it is.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Mingyu agrees, knowing all too well and definitely knowing better than to ask. “Let’s grab a drink one of these nights while you’re still around.”

“Sure thing, have fun dealing with, well, all of this,” Seungcheol chuckles, motioning at the mess surrounding them.

By the time he heads back toward you, you're already out of the charred vehicle, the rescue team guiding you into the backseat of the cop car.

He watches from a distance, realizing that once again, he didn’t get the chance to keep his promise.

The rescue team moves swiftly, pulling you from the wreckage and checking you over to make sure you aren’t hurt, even though you insist you aren’t.

“Ma’am, I know you say you’re fine, but it’s my job to check.”

“Sorry,” you grumble, “I’ve just had a shit day and I’m worried that Mika is scared.”

“Your dog? Don’t worry, we can head over there right now.” They gather your belongings from the trunk of your sizzling car before guiding you to the safety of the squad car where your dog is already waiting, tail wagging despite the chaos.

Now that you're out of danger, you finally take in the scene around you. It's far worse than anything you could have imagined. The devastation is overwhelming, and the air is still heavy with smoke.

A wave of gratitude washes over you for the stranger who helped calm your nerves when everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. Without his reassurance, you’re not sure how you would’ve kept it together.

You spot him; he’s standing among the firemen, deep in conversation. His tall frame towers over most of them, and the broad set of his shoulders makes his jacket seem almost too small. The sparking power lines cast flickering shadows across his face.

Unlike the others, his jacket has a different department name stitched across his back, making him stand out from the crowd even more. There's something about the way he carries himself all calm and controlled, like he's seen this kind of devastation too many times before, that piques your interest.

Like he senses you looking him over, he glances over toward the patrol car as it pulls away from the accident.

You sink into the seat next to Mika, feeling the warmth of her fur against your side, grateful she’s okay. You’re relieved but still shaken, and with the smell of smoke still clinging to your clothes, are desperate for a nice hot shower to wash off this horrible day.

The officer pulls up to your sister’s house and helps carry your bags to the door. Before leaving, he hands you a copy of the accident report and the business card for the tow company that hauled off your car.

"Take care now," the older man says with a nod, waving from the driver’s seat as he reverses down the driveway.

“Thanks!” you return, Mika also joining in with a quick yap.

Using the spare key your sister gave you years ago, you unlock the door and step inside. Mika bolts down the hallway, likely heading for the living room to claim her favorite nap spot on the couch.

Kate’s house rules will have to wait. Right now, all you care about is scrubbing off the sticky residue of smoke that clings to your skin. Mika, meanwhile, seems unbothered. Her rolling in the snow earlier did wonders for cleaning up her fur. She’s back to her usual gray-and-white self, but you’ll still have to wrangle her into a bath at some point. You don’t have the energy for that battle tonight.

Dragging your bags toward the bedrooms, you drop them on the floor inside the master. You rummage through the top duffel, fishing out an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants for after your shower. Clothes in hand, you head for the attached bathroom.

Peeling off your smoky clothes, you turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat up. Steam begins to fill the small space as you step beneath the heavy spray, the warm water washing away the grime and some of the day’s tension.

The face of the stranger from earlier flashes in your mind as you shampoo your long locks. Maybe you should have waited to say goodbye to him, and say thank you, before leaving the scene. You were in too much of a panic state to think about the proper way to handle anything. Hopefully, he understood that.

You’re just about done with rinsing off the remaining bubbles of the divine body wash your sister has in the shower when Mika runs into the bathroom and starts whining.

“I’m almost done, Mika Mouse” you comfort her through the glass wall, thinking her nerves are probably just acting up after today.

She whines again, slinking behind the bathroom door with her tail tucked low.

‘That’s odd’, you think, turning off the water and stepping out. ‘Maybe she doesn’t feel well?’

You wrap yourself in a thick towel, still worried about her behavior when a dull thud echoes from the far end of the house.

Mika peers up at you with wide, nervous eyes, the look clearly saying, ‘Don’t even think about asking me to check that out.’

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Of course not. So much for being a big, tough dog, huh?”

You tip-toe carefully toward the noise, the cool air against your damp skin making you shiver. The sound is coming from the kitchen, and Mika creeps along behind you, practically glued to your leg.

“You’re no help, you know that?” you whisper, glancing down at her. “What if I need backup?”

Mika simply stares at you, her blue eyes wide and unblinking, as if to say, ‘You’re on your own, Mom.’

Another louder crash stops you in your tracks. Your pulse quickens as you peek around the corner. There, in front of the open refrigerator, stands a stranger.

Adrenaline floods your body as you grab the nearest weapon (a spatula from the island counter), you let out a war cry and charge.

“Hey! What the—OW! Stop hitting me!” the intruder yells, raising his hands to shield himself.

“Who the hell are you?” you demand, swinging the spatula one last time for good measure.

“Wait! I—Ouch! What is wrong with you?” He twists around, finally revealing his face. And recognition slams into you like a brick wall, it’s the hot firefighter from earlier.

“You!” you hiss, lowering the spatula but not your guard. “Why are you here? Did you follow me here?”

“What? No! I’m staying here!” he snaps, rubbing his arm where you hit him.

“Uh, no you’re not. This is my sister’s house,” you say, crossing your arms. The movement makes you suddenly, painfully aware of how little you’re wearing.

He blinks at you, then gestures vaguely between you and the kitchen. “You’re Kate’s sister?”

“How do you know Kate?” you demand. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m one of Jun’s friends,” he explains, looking somewhat flustered. “He told me I could crash here for a few days. Kate agreed and said it was fine.”

You frown, your brain scrambling to make sense of this. “Well, nobody told me.”

“I thought they were here. I figured... maybe they were in the shower,” he says, his eyes flicking to your dripping hair. “But I guess that was you. Where are they?”

“They’re out of town,” you mutter, pulling the towel tighter around yourself. “And clearly, no one thought to clue me in on their little hospitality arrangements.”

“I just spoke with Jun yesterday. He didn’t say anything about being out of town,” Seungcheol says, his brows furrowed.

“Well...it was sort of last minute,” you reply, hesitating. You’re unsure how much you should share, but curiosity about his reaction nudges you to continue. “His dad had a heart attack. They asked me to house-sit while they went to be with him.”

Seungcheol’s face shifts from confusion to alarm, genuine concern washing over his features. “Oh my god, Mr. Wen had a heart attack? Is he okay?” His eyes search yours, desperate for answers.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I haven’t heard any updates yet. I was hoping Kate would call once they got there.”

He nods slowly, processing the news, then looks back at you.

“So...how do you know Junhui?” You cross your arms, still skeptical.

“We grew up together and are still good friends,” he says simply, holding your gaze.

You narrow your eyes, trying to read him. He seems genuine, but the whole situation still feels a little too coincidental.

“Look,” he says, sensing your doubt, “I can prove it. I’ve got old photos of us on my phone. Or, better yet, check the living room. I’m pretty sure there’s a framed photo of us from a beach trip we took a few years ago. It was on the mantle the last time I visited.”

You pause, weighing his words. There’s something about his tone that makes you think he might actually be telling the truth. Still, you’re not ready to let your guard down just yet.

“Fine,” you say. “But if I find out you’re lying, I’m coming back with something worse than a spatula.”

“If you’re anything like Kate, I wouldn’t doubt it,” Seungcheol says with a chuckle, now leaning up against the kitchen island.

You shoot him a look before walking over to the fireplace, where Kate displays all her smaller framed photos. It doesn’t take long to spot the beach photo he mentioned, and sure enough, a younger Seungcheol is standing next to Jun, both grinning under the sun. He looks leaner in the picture, less muscular than the version currently smirking from the kitchen.

“Well?” he calls from the island, his tone teasing. “Did I pass the test?”

You place the photo back on the mantel and turn to face his direction. “Don’t move. I need to get dressed and call Kate.”

“Not going anywhere,” he replies with a shrug, clearly amused by the whole ordeal.

You hurry back to the bedroom, finding Mika burrowed under the covers on the bed, probably retreating there after your spatula ambush.

“Coward,” you huff, stepping over your bags. Reaching the clothes you set out earlier, you quickly throw them on, silently cursing yourself for choosing the frumpiest option. But how would you have known you’d need to look cute and presentable for... company? Comfort had been the only thing on your mind.

Grabbing the towel draped over the vanity, you cover the base of your skull and twist your damp hair into a quick headwrap. Fixing your hair can wait, sorting out this unexpected houseguest with Kate takes priority.

Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you march over to your bags and rummage through them until you find your purse. Digging inside, you finally fish out your phone, silently pleading with the universe that your sister will pick up.

This was the last situation Seungcheol had expected to find himself in tonight. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, staying rooted to the spot as promised. It’s not hard to keep his word, he figures moving any closer might make things worse.

He gets why you’re being cautious. Honestly, he’s glad you are. Still, it bothers him a little that you don’t feel entirely safe around him. He’d even stepped away from the fridge, putting himself by the island within your line of sight, hoping it might ease your discomfort. Given the circumstances, though, your reaction is understandable.

The sound of soft footsteps echoes down the hallway, announcing your return before he even sees you. When you step into view, his breath catches. You look ridiculously cute with your hair twisted up in that towel, even if you’re frowning. Not that he’d admit it, but he preferred the towel’s previous location—wrapped around your damp, glistening body.

Damn it, ‘Cheol. Not the time.

“I can’t get ahold of Kate or Jun,” you say with a frustrated sigh. “They must still be on their flight.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to slip into problem-solving mode like it’s second nature. Anything to erase that frown from your face. “If it helps, I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. It’s far from the bedrooms, and you can barricade your door if that makes you feel better. I swear, I’m not a threat.”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, your voice laced with doubt.

Without missing a beat, he responds, “Would you like to talk to my mom?”

“What?” you blink, your expression equal parts skeptical and confused.

“I’ll call my mom,” he says, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “She can vouch for me. Would that make you feel better?”

You tilt your head, clearly debating it. Before you can respond, he’s already tapping the screen a couple of times before holding the phone out to you.

“It’s ringing.”

“Hello? Cheolie, dear?” a warm, motherly voice answers.

“Um, hi,” you say awkwardly, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Oh, hello! Is my son there?”

“I’m here, Mom,” Seungcheol calls out, loud enough for her to hear. “Y/N has a question for you.”

“Alright, dear,” she replies, her tone curious. “What’s the question?”

You glance at him, then back to the phone. “I’d like to know if Seungcheol is...honest and trustworthy,” you say, your eyes narrowing slightly as you study his face.

“Oh, well, that’s an easy one!” his mom chirps. “My Cheolie is a sweetheart! Did you know he’s a firefighter? Some might even call him a hero. He’s one of the most honest and trustworthy people you’ll ever meet.”

“Right,” you murmur, trying not to smile. “So, you’d say it’s safe to sleep under the same roof with him?”

“Well,” she chuckles softly, “that depends on whether he remembers his manners. But I’d bet good money my son has plenty of self-restraint—”

“Okay, Mom, that’s enough. Thanks!” Seungcheol interjects quickly, his ears burning. “I’ll call you later. Love you, bye!” Ending the call, he looks up to find you grinning.

“Cheolie?” you tease, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“Don’t call me that. Ever,” he warns, though the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “So... what’s the verdict?”

You give him another once-over, still weighing your options. “You can sleep in the guest bedroom. I’ll take the primary. Most of my stuff is already in there anyway.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind the couch,” he offers sincerely.

“It’s fine,” you reply with a wave of your hand. “You did save me earlier, after all. I’m not going to kick you out in the middle of the night when it’s storming. We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when it’s not so late.”

“Thanks,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay, by the way. Did the rescue team check your throat for smoke inhalation? And what about your dog? Wait—where is your dog?�� His head swivels as he realizes he hasn’t seen Mika.

“She’s hiding in the bedroom, like the coward she is,” you say with a huff. “And yeah, we both got checked out. The worst of it was my car... and my clothes.” You glance at the clock on the wall. “Anyway, I’m heading to bed. Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I know my way around. I’ll grab some water and call it a night too.”

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You disappear down the hall, leaving him standing in the kitchen, feeling oddly better than he had all day.

Seungcheol’s hand trails across your jaw, his tough is light yet as his eyes sear into yours. His fingers trace the delicate curve of your face before slipping into the hair behind your ear, his grip gentle but possessive as he leans in.

His lips brush against yours, warm and inviting, sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss is tantalizing and slow, yet perfectly in sync, drawing a soft sigh from your lips as you melt into him.

And then—buzz.

Wait. Are his lips...vibrating?

A second buzz jolts you further from the haze of your dream, and before you can process it, another vibration tickles your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, reality crashing in as you realize your phone is pressed between your face and the pillow. You must have dozed off without setting it on the nightstand.

Blinking heavily, you grab the device, squinting at the screen. It’s your sister.

You swipe to answer, your voice thick with sleep. “Hello?”

“Shoot, were you sleeping? I’m sorry,” Kate says, already sounding guilty.

“For waking me up or for forgetting to mention the house guest you invited to stay here?”

“Oh my god.” A beat of silence, and then she groans. “Y/N, I am so sorry. Everything happened so fast with Jun’s dad, and it completely slipped my mind that Seungcheol was coming to visit. Is he there now?”

“Yeah. And I might have whacked him a few times thinking he was breaking into the house.”

Your sister snickers on the other end, clearly picturing it. “You attacked him?”

“We’ve resolved it. Mostly.”

Kate bursts into laughter, and you roll your eyes, already regretting telling her.

"I bet he loved that," Kate snickers. "Seriously, though, I just wanted to call with an update, except there isn’t much of one. The doctors are running every test they can to figure out why he had a heart attack in the first place. Basically, we’re stuck in a waiting game for now.”

Your stomach twists. “How’s Jun handling it?”

She lowers her voice, the weight of concern evident. “I think he’s scared. But he’s putting on a brave front for his mom. She’s beside herself right now.” A pause. “Actually, the doctor is coming now. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Give Jun a big hug for me. Keep me updated. Love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Bye.”

The line goes dead and you glance at the time, it’s just past 8 a.m. Mika stretches beside you, yawning dramatically before perking up, her bright blue eyes locked onto you. Now that she knows you’re awake, there’s no stopping her. She’s practically quivering with morning energy, and it won’t be long before she starts pawing at the door, demanding her outdoor time.

You sigh, already mourning your sweet slumber and the very interesting dream that had been so rudely interrupted.

Mika whines before hopping off the bed and trotting to the door, tail wagging expectantly.

Cracking it open, you peek into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is still closed. Good, at least one of you gets to sleep in.

Tip-toeing toward the entryway, you slip into your winter gear before heading toward the back deck. The crisp morning air nips at your face as you slide the glass door open and Mika dashes past you in a blur of fur, instantly prancing through the fresh snow.

She lives for the cold, yet somehow refuses to do her business unless she has a bare patch of ground. An interesting quirk of hers. With a resigned sigh, you find a shovel nearby and clear a small area for her.

While she tunnels through the snow, occasionally popping her head up like a mischievous little arctic fox, you shove your gloved hands into your pockets, bouncing on your heels to stay warm.

Once she’s finally done playing and has taken care of business, you barely have to say the magic word, breakfast, before she’s bounding back inside, tail wagging like she just won the lottery.

She sits patiently, her tail sweeping across the floor as you prepare her usual breakfast, dry kibble topped with blueberries and salmon. The combination makes your nose wrinkle, but to her, it’s a five-star meal. She lets out a soft huff, urging you to hurry up, and the second you place the bowl down, she dives in enthusiastically.

As you watch her eat, the weight of yesterday’s events settles over you. The bad date, the phone call, the fire, and the unexpected houseguest. Despite all the chaos, there’s a lingering sense of gratitude warming your chest. Things could have been so much worse.

Deciding you want to thank Seungcheol, you rummage through the pantry and fridge, gathering everything you need to whip up a nice breakfast for yourselves. It’s the least you can do for him.

With your favorite indie playlist humming through the speakers, you settle into the rhythm of cooking. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as the french toast sizzles on the stove. Lost in the process, you sway a little to the music, waiting for the perfect moment to flip the slices.

Until something in your peripheral catches your attention, and when you glance up, your breath hitches.

Seungcheol steps out of the guest room, still half-asleep, his dark hair tousled in an unfairly attractive way. But that’s not what has you flushing, it’s the fact that he’s shirtless, with his toned chest and defined abs on full display. The gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips aren’t helping your already scattered thoughts.

Your gaze lingers a second too long. Maybe three. Or five…

By the time you snap out of it, his smirk is already forming. Oh, he definitely caught you looking. The heat creeping up your neck betrays you, and his smirk deepens.

“Morning,” he says, voice still rough with sleep.

You clear your throat, quickly turning back to the stove. “Morning. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“Smells good,” he muses, stepping closer. “Need any help?”

You swallow hard, focusing on flipping the french toast before it burns. “You know what would be helpful?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the pan, not on him.

“What’s that?” he replies, stretching his arms above his head.

You steal one last glance, just a quick one, watching the way his muscles ripple with the movement. Damn it. Get a grip.

“If you’d go throw on a shirt, Rolie Polie Cheolie.”

His laughter is instant, loud and unapologetic. “Wow. That nickname is uncalled for.” He runs a slow hand down his chest, smiling smugly. “Is this too much for you? I totally understand why.”

Your grip tightens around the spatula as you flash him a sickly sweet smile, waving it in your hand as a reminder. “Should we revisit last night?”

His smile falters, eyes darting to the spatula like he’s considering his odds. “Damn, woman. Okay.” Still chuckling, he lifts his hands in surrender and backs away. “I’ll go find a shirt. But for the record…” he pauses in the doorway, glancing back at you with a knowing grin. “You didn’t have to stare.”

Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the stove. This man is going to be the death of you.

It’s day three of surviving Seungcheol.

You don’t know when you started keeping track, but at this point, it feels necessary. Every glance, every smirk, every damn stretch of his ridiculously sculpted arms even when he’s innocently putting away the washed dishes after a meal, chips away at your resolve.

Kate hadn’t helped. Last night, after calling with an update, she’d gone there*.*

“If you’re looking for some fun*,* Seungcheol is definitely the way to go,” she’d said, voice full of mischief.

You’d nearly choked on your water. “Excuse me?”

“He’s so fine. Not as fine as Jun, of course, but Seungcheol is a man if you know what I mean.”

Your gaze had drifted traitorously toward him. He’s comfortably sprawled in the corner chair, book in hand, looking every bit like a romance novel cover come to life.

You’d hissed into the phone, “Shut up,” even though he’d need superhuman hearing to catch onto what she was saying.

“All I’m saying is, you never know what might happen over the next few days. Have some fun.”

Heat crawls up your neck as you rise to grab a drink from the kitchen. Why is it suddenly so warm in here?

“Nothing is going to happen,” you’d whispered back, firmly.

“Boo. You’re no fun.” She’d let it go after that, moving on to say they’d likely be home by next Wednesday. Nine more days. That’s all you have to survive.

Nine days without making a fool of yourself.

Nine days without giving in to the way he makes your pulse stutter.

Three down and nine to go. Twelve total…You can do it. Right? You just need to focus. Like on your book.

Yes. Writing. That’ll keep your thoughts free of Seungcheol.

After your usual morning routine of walking Mika, enjoying breakfast, and tidying up, Seungcheol casually mentions that he’s heading out for a run.

Jogging in the cold sounds like actual torture to you, but you still offer him a small smile. “Have a good run!”

“Thanks,” he says, rolling out his shoulders as he stretches. His muscles flex with the movement underneath his tight zip-up, and you have to remind yourself not to stare. “When I get back, I’ll cook us dinner.”

That certainly piques your interest. “Oh? Do you cook often?”

“You could say that. Plus, I wouldn’t want you starving under my watch,” he teases with a wink before heading out the door.

You narrow your eyes at the space he just vacated. Has he figured out that your culinary skills barely extend beyond breakfast foods? Maybe the fact that you reheated frozen leftovers twice yesterday tipped him off.

Once he’s gone, you settle into your writing space with a hot tea nearby and your laptop open, fingers poised over the keyboard. The hardest part is always getting started, but once you do, the words tend to flow. Today, they’re flowing especially well.

You’re making great progress on the prologue, recapping the last book’s events and weaving in the setup for the new characters. But as you flesh out the love interest, describing his dark, chocolatey hair and toned physique, a realization hits you.

You’re using a certain someone as inspiration.

The realization makes your fingers hesitate over the keyboard. Seriously? You shake your head, trying to brush off the thought, but it lingers, settling into the back of your mind like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

Your main character’s love interest is supposed to be effortlessly charismatic, strong, and just the right amount of a cocky attitude. Traits that, annoyingly, align all too well with the man currently out on his run. The way he smirks when he catches you looking, the deep timbre of his voice, the way he makes your heart race anytime he’s within touching distance.

You groan and drop your head onto the table. This is ridiculous.

Maybe Kate was right. Maybe your subconscious is betraying you, channeling all that pent-up energy into your writing instead of…well, other things.

Before you can spiral further, you take a deep breath and push those distracting thoughts out of your mind. Focus. You force your attention back to your screen, determined to channel this energy into something productive.

You finish fleshing out the details of your character, the way his eyes darken when he’s deep in thought, the way his presence commands a room without effort. You tweak a few lines, refining his dialogue until it feels just right.

Satisfied, you move on, letting the story take shape one sentence at a time. The tension between your characters simmers, the chemistry practically leaping off the page. It’s electric, intense…and maybe, just maybe, a little too familiar.

You shake off the thought and keep writing, ignoring the way your mind keeps circling back to a certain firefighter with a teasing smirk and frustratingly perfect timing.

“Whatcha working on?”

You nearly jump out of your seat. A damp towel hangs around Seungcheol’s shoulders, his hair still wet from a shower. He’s also wearing different clothes than earlier, a fresh pair of lounge pants and a fitted black tee that does nothing to hide the way his broad shoulders and toned arms fill it out.

When did he even get back? You didn’t hear him come in, let alone get undressed and shower.

“You were so engrossed in whatever this is,” he motions to your laptop screen, “that you didn’t even hear me say I was hopping in the shower.”

Your heart is still trying to recover from the surprise, and maybe from the sight of him standing so casually in front of you, all post-workout and freshly showered.

“W-what?” you stammer, snapping your laptop shut on instinct. “I was…just writing.”

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. “About what?”

Absolutely not. There is no way in hell you’re telling him the truth.

“Um, I’m an author. I have a book due soon as part of my contract.”

Seungcheol nods, clearly waiting for you to elaborate. His gaze makes you hesitate, do you dive into the full truth about writing romantasy smut or keep things vague? A simple character plotting excuse could work, but something about the way he’s watching you makes you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s, um, about a warrior heiress whose assigned protector is a human hybrid. He can morph into a giant guardian dog at will. And, well…she kind of falls for him.” You pause, watching his reaction, then, without thinking, add, “Do you know what knotting means?”

The second the words leave your mouth, you want to crawl under the table.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Do I want to know?”

Your face is on fire. Abort. Abort. You shake your head rapidly. “No, probably not.”

He chuckles, clearly amused by your panic but merciful enough to let it slide. “Alright then,” he says, using the towel to dry off his hair some more. It’s enough to distract you.

Little do you know, he’s definitely planning on looking it up later.

“How was your run? And shower?” you babble, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Both were good,” he replies smoothly, eyes still holding a trace of interest in the previous topic of conversation. “But I’m starving now. How about you?”

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus. “Well, I won’t say no to food,” you say, standing up and stretching, trying to act casual.

Seungcheol smirks like he knows exactly where your mind wanders. “Good. Because I plan on impressing you.”

“Oh? Bold of you to assume I’m easily impressed.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not up for the challenge,” he says, his voice dripping with confidence. “You want to help, or are you still lost in your little fantasy world?”

The teasing in his voice makes your eyes narrow. Without hesitation, you snap your laptop shut before he can read another word. “I’ve hit my goal for the day. Put me to work, chef.”

He laughs, “Wow, such enthusiasm. Almost convincing.” He slings the damp towel over his shoulder. “Let me toss this in the laundry hamper, and then we’ll get started.”

As he disappears down the hall, you exhale, pressing your palms against the cool surface of the table. Seungcheol has no idea what you were writing, but the thought of him finding out makes your stomach twist. And not necessarily in a bad way.

By the time he returns, you’ve found an apron and slipped it on, attempting to tie the strings behind you. He stops mid-step, taking in the sight of you. His grin is slow and approving. “Look at you, all dressed for the part.”

You place your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously. Now, Super Couper, what’s on the menu?”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair before shooting you a playful glare. “How many more ridiculous nicknames do you have up your sleeve?”

You tilt your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “An endless amount.” Your smile is far too triumphant. “It’s a habit of mine. And lucky you, you get to be the exclusive recipient for the next several days.”

He shakes his head at the new ridiculous nickname, but the grin on his face gives him away. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely,” you tease, adjusting the apron strings behind your back. “Now, tell me what I’m chopping, stirring, or burning.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. His hands brush over yours as he takes over and ties the apron for you, pulling the strings snug. The warmth of his fingers lingers even after he steps back. “We’re making spicy kimchi fried rice with seared steak.”

Your stomach growls in approval, and he smiles. “I’ll handle the steak since I don’t want you to accidentally ruin it,” he teases. “You’re on chopping duty. Can I trust you with a knife?”

You scoff, grabbing a knife. “Duh.”

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with amused eyes. “We’ll see.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the way your pulse skips as you start slicing. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two adults cooking together. It’s definitely not a big deal that you can feel his body heat every time he moves past you, or that his deep, husky chuckle makes your stomach flutter.

You won’t admit it, but you’re totally impressed by the way Seungcheol moves around the kitchen with ease, like he was born to do this. He’s completely in his element. You find yourself wondering why he became a firefighter instead of a chef at some high-end restaurant.

Seungcheol watches as you slice into an onion, “Here, let me show you how to hold it properly—”

“I know how to do it,” you huff, gripping the handle tighter. “I’m capable of chopping vegetables, Seungcheol.”

He raises a brow at your defensive tone, then softens. “Of course you are,” he says gently. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Something about his concern makes your stomach twist. Maybe it’s the way he automatically took over, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s right, but either way, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He seems to realize it too because he steps back, letting you finish on your own without another word.

The tension lingers as he takes the chopped veggies and tosses them into the pan, sautéing them before mixing them with the rice. You know it’s ridiculous to hold a grudge over something as small as knife skills, but the silence stretches between you as you both eat, neither wanting to be the first to break it.

Even Mika, who’s happily munching away at her dinner, doesn’t offer a distraction from the lingering silence.

Seungcheol wouldn’t know this, but people have been stepping in to ‘help’ you your whole life, whether you wanted them to or not. Being a little clumsy means that, more often than not, others take over, deciding you’re too slow, too messy, or just better off watching.

You’ve fought to prove yourself capable in small ways, learning things at your own pace, and taking pride in figuring them out on your own. You know Seungcheol didn’t mean it that way. His help wasn’t condescending, it wasn't just let me do it move like you’ve experienced before.

Finally, you exhale, deciding to move past it. No point in sulking over it.

“So,” you say after taking a drink of your water, “Can I ask you something?”

Seungcheol glances up, mid-bite, eyebrows raising slightly. “Of course.”

“You seem really comfortable in the kitchen,” you pause, watching the way his shoulders stiffen. “Why firefighting? Why not something food-related?”

“I spent some time in culinary school, but I like doing things my own way. It wasn’t for me.” He leans back slightly, twirling his fork between his fingers. “Firefighting is…different. It’s this rush of energy that takes over your body. You assess the situation, cut the wildfire off from its resources, do everything in your power to stop it from growing. It’s intense, but it’s rewarding.” He exhales, his gaze momentarily distant. “But I’m not sure it’s exactly for me anymore either.”

“Oh? Really? Why’s that?”

He hesitates for a beat, then shrugs. “I have a few things to figure out, some important decisions to make. That sort of thing.” His tone makes it clear he’s not ready to elaborate, so he shifts the conversation instead. “What about you? Have you always liked writing?”

“God, no,” you say with a short laugh. “I’ve always been an avid reader, but I kept looking for a specific type of book that either wasn’t well written or didn’t exist. Eventually, I just decided to write it myself.” You glance at your mostly empty plate. “I’m still new to it all, this is only my second book, but I like it.”

Seungcheol nods, offering a small smile. “That’s good.”

You let the comfortable quiet settle between you as you both take the last few bites of dinner.

“Thanks for dinner, by the way,” you say, getting up to take your dishes to the sink.

“Thanks for helping.”

Day Five of Surviving Seungcheol

Yesterday wasn’t particularly eventful, just another day of coexisting with the infuriatingly perceptive man currently occupying your space. The most eventful thing that happened was Seungcheol shoveling the driveway and front steps after the snowfall, which, for Mika, was basically an invitation to turn the entire ordeal into a game. She chased after flying clumps of snow, leaping at them mid-air like an overexcited puppy, completely unbothered by the cold.

Unlike you.

Even though the sun shined for most of the day, the mountain air bites sharper than usual, cutting through every layer you’ve thrown on. No matter how many sweaters or blankets you bundle yourself in, warmth remains elusive. And now that the sun has gone down, the temperature seems to have dropped again.

“God, I miss the warm weather,” you mutter, pushing off the couch in search of yet another blanket.

Seungcheol frowns, his eyes tracking you as you disappear down the hall. He already turned up the thermostat earlier when he noticed goosebumps on your arms, and you’ve thrown on a sweater since then. He sets his nearly finished book down, rolling his shoulders as he stands.

By the time you return, arms wrapped around the thickest blanket you could find, the unmistakable crackle of fire fills the living room.

You stop in your tracks, eyes flicking to Seungcheol, who’s crouched near the fireplace, adjusting the logs. The warm glow of the flames casts flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the quiet concentration in his features.

Somehow, he always catches onto things and does them before you even think to ask.

“It should warm up in here pretty fast now,” he says, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you, uh…want to watch something while you write, or would that be distracting?” he asks, unsure.

“I could use some background noise. Put on whatever you want.”

Seungcheol grabs the remote and flips through the options before settling on the latest action movie. It’s loud, fast-paced, and (at least in theory) should hold his attention.

Except it doesn’t.

He’ll admit, he hasn’t got a single clue what’s happening on the screen. Explosions, car chases, intense fight scenes; they all blur together as his focus repeatedly drifts to your laptop.

It’s not his fault. Really.

He had every intention of watching the movie. Based on the description, it seemed like something he’d enjoy. But the moment his gaze flickered toward your screen, all thoughts of entertainment evaporated. His curiosity got the best of him, and now he’s stealing glances, completely distracted by the way your fingers move over the keys with effortless ease.

And after reading a line, all rational thought leaves his head.

Dash looks up at me with fire in his eyes. “You’re mine. Your heart, your mouth, your sweet cunt—it’s all mine.” A deep growl vibrates from his chest as he pulls me onto his lap, his hardening length pressing against me through his pants.

Seungcheol swallows hard, eyes darting between the flashing scenes on the TV and the words on your laptop. Jesus Christ. He stiffens, willing his expression to remain neutral. But it’s impossible to unsee the words, impossible to ignore the way his brain short-circuits at the imagery.

Dash shreds my corset with his claws, discarding the tattered fabric like it’s nothing. His mouth latches onto my nipple, his hand cupping the other, his touch rough yet reverent. I whimper as he spreads my thighs, lifting my skirt to reveal—

He sucks in a sharp breath, snapping his head back toward the TV. Nope. Nope. Nope.

But now he’s hyper-aware of you sitting beside him, completely unbothered as your fingers move effortlessly over the keys. You’re so focused, so immersed in crafting this sinful scene like it’s just another day at work.

He wants to laugh. He wants to tease. He wants to ask you what the hell kind of research you’ve been doing for this book, but more than anything, he kinda wants to know what happens next.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to enjoy a smutty book,” you muse, lips curling into a knowing smirk. You should probably be embarrassed that he’s been sneakily reading, but watching the initial shock on his face shift into reluctant curiosity is far too entertaining.

Seungcheol’s head snaps toward you so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. Shit. I’ve been caught.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out before you can stop it. Eventually, Seungcheol joins in, shaking his head in amusement. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. You’re good, though. I can see why your last book sold so many copies.”

Your brows lift in mock surprise. “Ah, have you been doing a little research on me?”

He smirks, completely unapologetic. “Maybe just a little. I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with the beloved BookTok queen.”

That makes you laugh even harder, the sound ringing through the room. Seungcheol watches you, taking in the way your eyes squint when you laugh, how your whole face lights up. Damn, he thinks, you’re gorgeous.

Seungcheol pushes himself up from the couch, partially to hide his growing hard-on and partially to grab a snack. He’s so attracted to you, more than he ever expected to be. “Feel like popcorn?”

“Yum, yes! That sounds fab,” you say, already diving back into your smut scene.

A few minutes later, he returns with a freshly popped bowl of popcorn and two cold beers. “Wasn’t sure if you drink, but I can grab you some water instead if you prefer.”

You smile at his thoughtfulness. “Nah, beer is great. Thanks.”

The two of you settle in, watching the last half of the movie together. Not that you’re paying much attention, you’re pretty sure Seungcheol isn’t either, as you keep stealing glances at each other. Plus, the plot is all over the place, and you both seem equally lost.

Then, just as things finally seem to be wrapping up, one of the love interests dies. And just like that, you’re completely checked out. If there’s one thing you cannot stand, it’s an unhappy ending. You’re a die-hard Happy Ever After lover. What was the point of all that buildup if they were just going to rip it away?

Seungcheol stretches, letting out a deep yawn as the credits begin to roll. “That felt longer than I thought it would.”

“Sleepy?” you ask, hoping maybe he’ll say no and you can keep hanging out a little longer.

But he yawns again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, surprisingly, I am. I better head to bed.” He shoots you a tired smile. “Sweet dreams.”

…

Seungcheol hesitates for half a second before nodding and retreating to his room. As he shuts the door behind him, your expression lingers in his mind. There was something there, just for a moment. Maybe he imagined it.

He shakes his head. Don’t be stupid. He won’t get his hopes up about you having any sort of feeling for him. And he refuses to put you in that position.

Exhaling deeply, he climbs into bed, exhaustion weighing on him. Sleep comes quickly, but the comfort is short-lived.

The memory that haunts him returns, just like it always does. His body tenses, breath shallowing as he’s yanked back into the nightmare that never leaves him alone.

Fire. Smoke. The metallic taste of fear coating his tongue.

He tosses and turns, jaw clenched, fingers twitching as though trying to dig through rubble that isn’t there. His face contorts in distress, beads of sweat forming at his temple as the scene replays, relentless and unforgiving.

No.

He sprints toward the smoldering wreckage of what was once a home, his heart pounding harder than his boots against the ashy ground. The house was still standing only hours ago. He told them to leave, practically begged them to, but the charred remains of their car in the driveway tell him all he needs to know.

Still, he digs. His hands work frantically, shoving aside collapsed beams and shattered drywall, hoping—praying—that he won’t find what he’s looking for. That his gut feeling is wrong. That by some miracle, they made it out.

But then, he sees them.

A pair of burned bodies curled around something small. No, no, no, no…

His stomach twists violently as he stumbles back. The infant cradled in their lifeless arms, the baby he promised would be safe, is gone too.

His breath catches. The awful taste of failure coats his tongue, choking him.

You had planned to sleep hours ago, but the book you’re reading is just too good. Mika is curled up at your side, warm and comfortable, and you’ve convinced yourself that one more chapter won’t hurt.

Just as you shift under the covers, a faint noise catches your attention.

You sit up, ears straining. Was that… talking?

At first, it’s too muffled to make out. Maybe Seungcheol is on the phone? But then, clearer this time, desperate and pleading.

“No! No, please no!”

A shiver runs down your spine. That wasn’t the voice of someone having a casual conversation. That was pain.

You rush out of bed, heart hammering, and press your ear against the guest bedroom door. Faint whimpers slip through the painted wood, his distress clear even from the hallway.

“Seungcheol?” You crack the door open slightly, hesitant to intrude. “Is everything alright?”

But then he lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Screw privacy.

You rush to his side, your hand finding his trembling shoulder. “Hey, it’s just a bad dream,” you say gently, settling onto the bed beside him. His breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, his face twisted in agony. You shake him, not too hard but firm enough to pull him from the nightmare’s grip. “Seungcheol, wake up. You’re safe. It’s alright, everything is alright.”

His eyelids flutter, his gaze unfocused as he blinks up at you. “Y/N?” His voice is hoarse, heavy with exhaustion and something else, perhaps something raw like grief.

“I’m here,” you whisper, your touch instinctively soothing as you rub slow circles along his back. “Shh. Go back to sleep.”

His ragged breathing gradually evens out, his body loosening as the tension melts away. Just as you think he’s fully drifted off, you start to move, planning to slip away quietly.

But before you can, his arms tighten around you.

You stiffen, every muscle locking up as he pulls you back down, tucking you against his chest.

The warmth of him is immediate, wrapping around you like a cocoon. He moves on instinct, tossing the blanket over you, his hold protective, unconsciously seeking comfort.

You fit perfectly against him.

You try not to think about it. About how steady his heartbeat sounds beneath your ear. About how his breath brushes against your hair. About how ridiculously pretty his eyelashes are up this close. Or how full his lips look, even now, parted slightly in sleep.

You tell yourself you’ll stay just a few minutes. Just until he’s completely settled. But your eyelids grow heavy, the warmth of his embrace lulling you into quiet surrender.

And before you know it, you’ve slipped into slumber beside him.

A few hours later, sunlight peeks through the blinds, lighting up your face as you stir awake. You blink against the brightness, momentarily disoriented until the empty space beside you registers.

Seungcheol is gone.

You sit up quickly, heart stuttering. Shit. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep here. You should’ve woken up first and slipped out unnoticed, so you could pretend like nothing ever happened.

Did he realize you stayed? Of course, he realized. You were next to him when he got up.

Swinging your legs off the bed, you brush a hand through your hair and take a steadying breath before padding out into the main part of the house.

Through the window, you spot him outside with Mika. He’s already shoveled a bare patch for her, ensuring she doesn’t have to trudge through the deep snow just to do her business.

Your heart gives an inconvenient little patter.

Of course, he would remember to do that. He’s always so considerate, always catching onto things, even if you don’t realize he does.

You quietly retreat back to the primary bedroom, rifling through the duffel bag of clothes you brought. If you’re going to pretend last night didn’t happen, you might as well do it while looking cute. You settle on a cozy but flattering outfit, then jump into the shower, hoping the hot water will help clear your head.

By the time you emerge, refreshed and dressed, Seungcheol has come back inside.

“Morning,” he greets, looking up as you approach.

You hesitate, searching his expression for any hint of last night’s events, of waking up tangled together, of his unconscious grip pulling you closer.

But he doesn’t mention it. Huh, interesting.

“Hi,” you reply, forcing a casual smile. “Good morning.”

And just like that, it’s as if nothing ever happened. You keep your expression neutral, though a tiny pang of disappointment lingers. Pretending was your plan, so why does it sting a little when he beats you to it?

“I noticed the kitchen faucet was dripping this morning,” Seungcheol says, before drinking the rest of his coffee. “Tried fixing it, but I think it needs to be replaced. I’m gonna run into town to grab a new one. Want to escape for the day? We could grab lunch while we’re out.”

A break actually sounds nice. You haven’t gotten much writing done anyway, and the weight of waiting for feedback from your agent and publisher is pressing heavier by the hour.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I sent in my rough outline and a few chapters yesterday, but I haven’t heard anything back yet. I think the suspense is killing my creativity.”

He nods in understanding. “Makes sense. Want to get ready first?”

“Yeah, give me five minutes.”

Back in your room, you sift through your bag before settling on your favorite pair of jeans and a cropped crewneck that sits just right at your waist, warm enough for layering under your winter coat. You twist your hair into a claw clip, swipe on some mascara and lip gloss, then take one last glance in the mirror before heading out to meet him.

When you return, you find Seungcheol has changed too. He’s now wearing a flannel, dark slacks, and a ball cap. You squint, trying to make out the embroidered words. Dude’s Bait & Tackle.

“Who’s Dude?” you ask while slipping on your boots.

“My brother.”

Your head tilts slightly. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah, he’s a few years older than me. I probably don’t visit him as often as I should.” He shrugs, grabbing his jacket and the note he jotted down with the faucet’s dimensions. “Not that he minds, he’s not much of a people person.”

You nod, filing that little detail about him away. “Ready when you are.”

Grabbing your purse, you turn to Mika, crouching down to scratch behind her ears. “Be good, we’ll be back soon. I love you so much. Make good decisions, okay?”

Seungcheol fights back a laugh, secretly charmed by the way you treat Mika like a tiny, furry human. Instead, he simply shakes his head and opens the front door for you, following you out to his truck.

Without hesitation, he moves ahead to open the passenger door for you too.

Chivalry isn’t dead, after all.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling a little guilty for making him go out of his way.

“I know,” Seungcheol replies easily, offering his hand to help you up into the seat. “But I was raised to be a gentleman.” Then, with a small smirk, he adds, “Plus, I don’t mind helping a pretty girl.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Oh, so if I was ugly, you’d just slam the door in my face? That's what you’re saying, Coupcake?”

His smirk deepens as he shakes his head, then suddenly leans in to buckle your seatbelt for you. Your breath catches, he’s close, so close. You catch a hint of his cologne, warm and woodsy, and your cheeks heat despite the cold air outside.

After clicking the buckle into place, he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I need to start writing these down. You’ve got some good ones.”

“Don’t encourage me, or I’ll have to pull out the big guns,” you tease, lifting a brow.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he steps back and shuts the door. A second later, he’s sliding into the driver’s seat beside you, the corners of his mouth still tugging into a smile.

And just like that, the day suddenly feels like it will be a lot more interesting.

Seungcheol wakes up feeling more rested than he has in a long time. A rare kind of warmth settles deep in his bones, the kind that makes him want to stay in bed just a little longer. He takes a slow breath in, and his senses are instantly flooded with you. Vanilla, soft and sweet, mixed with something else he hasn’t quite figured out yet.

His arms tighten around you instinctively before his brain fully catches up. Why are you in my bed? He doesn’t remember. But fuck, he’s not complaining.

Snuggling in a little deeper, his palm glides over your side, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist. You fit against him perfectly, your body molding into his like you were meant to be there.

And then you shift.

A small, unconscious movement, but it sends your ass pressing right against his already half-awake length, making him inhale sharply through his nose.

Shit.

He freezes, willing his body to relax. Don’t ruin this for me right now, he thinks to himself, demanding his body to behave. Clenching his jaw, he wills little Coups to calm the fuck down before this gets embarrassing.

And for a second, he thinks he has it under control. Until you shift again, this time pressing even closer, your warmth seeping through the layers of fabric between you.

Then, in the softest murmur, barely above a whisper, you breathe his name.

“Mmm, Seungcheol.”

His stomach clenches. His fingers twitch against your skin.

Holy. Fuck.

Yeah. He needs to get up. Right now. Before time reverts and he’s turned back into a horny teenager, about to embarrass himself in ways he will never recover from.

Carefully, Seungcheol pulls away from your warmth, slipping out from beneath the covers with as much stealth as he can manage. You barely stir, completely unaware of the hold you have over him. Over his mind, his body, his every last ounce of self-control.

He needs distance. Immediately.

Making his way down the hall, he beelines for the bathroom at the far end of the house, somewhere safely out of range, where he can get his shit together before he does something unbelievably stupid.

Like pinning you against the bookshelf in the living room and fucking you until you scream his name.

Or bending you over the kitchen counter, pushing your hair aside so he can bite down on your shoulder as he takes you from behind.

Or his personal favorite—his absolute fucking favorite—you on top of him, sinking down onto his cock inch by inch, gasping as you stretch around him. Maybe even making that same sinful little sound you let out the other night at dinner, when you were upset with him but still savoring every bite.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest as he steps into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

And finally, finally, he shoves his boxers down and wraps a fist around his aching cock.

Seungcheol drags his thumb over his needy tip, a shudder rolling down his spine. His body is desperate, pulsing with heat. He pulls his hand away just long enough to spit into his palm before wrapping it back around his aching length.

Shutting his eyes, he delves into the fantasy, one that feels so damn real he almost swears he can still smell your vanilla scent clinging to his skin.

In another world, he wouldn’t have left that bed. Wouldn’t have forced himself to walk away. No, he would’ve pulled you closer instead, arm tightening around your waist as his hand slipped beneath your sleep shorts. His fingers would have teased their way down, brushing over your clit before dragging through your folds, already damp and so warm. The moment he pressed inside, you’d gasp, surprised, shifting in his arms but not pulling away. Never pulling away.

His strokes quicken, his breath growing uneven.

You’d turn toward him, sleep-heavy eyes blinking open, and without a word, your thighs would part just a little wider, it’s an invitation. A plea he’d answer by curling two fingers deep inside you, coaxing those needy little pants from your lips, watching as your face melted with pleasure.

His grip tightens. His hips jerk up into his hand.

He knows exactly how it would go. Knows that soon enough, you’d be begging—please, Cheol, more—and fuck, he’d give it to you. He’d slide your shorts down, tug that tiny tank top over your head, confirming what he already knew. That you have the most perfect fucking tits. And then he’d sink into you without hesitation, stretching you open, watching your mouth fall open as you take him. With every thrust, your body would give, your back arching, your breasts bouncing, your nails digging into his skin as he buried himself deeper.

Seungcheol groans low in his throat, head tilting back against the wall. His hand moves faster, chasing the high that feels so close.

Jesus fuck.

You’d let him know you were close, breathless and needy, voice barely more than a whimper. Cheol, I’m gonna—

And just to push you over that perfect edge, he’d press his thumb to your swollen clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, slow and deliberate. He’d swirl it in tight circles, watching your body tremble, feeling your walls flutter around him as you gasped his name. And that would be it.

The way you’d squeeze around him, your body tightening, back arching as you came apart beneath him…it would wreck him completely. He’d follow you down, groaning against your skin as his own pleasure took hold, spilling deep inside—

Seungcheol’s stomach clenches as the tension finally snaps. A low, strangled curse leaves his lips as his release spills into the wad of toilet paper in his hand, his whole body shuddering with relief.

For a long moment, he just breathes. Letting the fantasy slowly fade, leaving only the lingering heat and the undeniable truth that settles deep in his chest. You have him wrapped around your fucking finger.

The worst part? You don’t even know it.

And if this morning was any indication, this sure as hell wouldn’t be the last time he nearly loses it in front of you.

He cleans himself up and steps out of the bathroom, only to be met with Mika sitting in the hallway, staring at him with what can only be described as judgment.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. “I’m not admitting to anything,” he mutters, sidestepping her as he grabs his boots.

Carrying his boots over to the sliding glass door, he slips them on before letting Mika outside. The mountain air is sharp and bracing, biting at his exposed skin, but he welcomes the chill. He needs it to clear his head, to get his damn hormones in check before he faces you.

His eyes land on the shovel propped against the railing, right where you left it. With a quiet sigh, he picks it up and starts clearing a spot in the snow for Mika. It’s a small thing, but he knows she won’t go until she has her designated space. He’d caught onto the routine not long after watching the two of you in the mornings, your sleepy voice murmuring to her, the way she’d nuzzle against your leg as you shoveled.

It’s second nature to you. And now, somehow, it’s becoming second nature to him too.

On his way back inside, he peeks into the bedroom. You’re still curled up beneath the blankets, your breathing soft and even, completely oblivious to the chaos he just put himself through. He swallows, shaking his head, and reaches for his sweatpants that are flung haphazardly over the dresser. He tugs them on before heading into the kitchen, flicking on the coffee pot. As he fills it with water, his gaze catches on the steady drip, drip, drip of the kitchen faucet after he’s turned it off.

Perfect.

It’s a small issue, easy to fix, but also the perfect excuse to escape the house with you for a few hours. Get out. Get some air. Act like a normal human being who isn’t fantasizing about his housemate every time she so much as breathes.

It’s a genius plan, really.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

And when you wake up, stretching with a sleepy yawn, he casually tosses out the idea. Just as he predicted, you happily agree. Now all he has to do is behave in public. Where other people are watching.

…

In the hardware store, Seungcheol notices how you’re walking closely by his side, the subtle shift in the space between you making his pulse quicken. He casually scans the aisle signs, looking for the one he needs, but his mind isn’t entirely focused on faucets. He feels the need to linger, to have you near just a few seconds longer.

Without overthinking, he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the right aisle. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels significant. He pretends to inspect the faucet options, even though he already knows exactly which one he’s going to grab, but he takes his time, savoring the small moment.

While he’s there, he picks up a couple of tools he might need, he’s pretty sure the surgeon doesn’t have much in the handyman tool department. Junhui’s first aid kit, however, is incredible, containing everything from bandages to advanced trauma gear. All of which is perfectly organized. As a first responder, Seungcheol can respect it.

As he heads toward the checkout counter, his gaze drifts to a box of dog toys. He adds one to his pile without a second thought, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as he imagines Mika tearing into the new toy with her usual enthusiasm.

…

At lunch, you get a ding on your phone, and Seungcheol notices the frown that appears on your face.

“Everything alright?” he asks, thinking it might be a not-so-good update from Kate.

“I don’t know, it’s an email from my publishing team.” He watches as your eyes pan back and forth as you read the message, noticing the slight slump of your shoulders. “They want to have a call tomorrow morning to go over what I’ve submitted. That can’t be good.”

“Why do you think that?” he asks, his concern growing.

“They think I’m not exactly meeting expectations…” you sigh, hesitating for a moment before opening up. “I’m struggling with writing what they want versus how I see the story unfolding. I’m not sure the direction they’re pushing me in is the right one.”

Seungcheol leans back, thinking for a moment. “You should just write what you want. Forget about what your readers expect, forget about what your team suggests. Focus on what you want the story to be.”

You take another bite of your meal, letting his words sink in. A part of you feels the weight lift just a little, even as you continue to grapple with the balance between creative freedom and external pressure.

“I’m not sure how much help I’d be, but if you’d like me to read over what you have so far, I’d be happy to give you an outsider’s opinion,” Seungcheol offers.

You hadn’t expected him to offer, and it caught you off guard for a moment.

“Feeling a change of heart compared to the other day?” you tease, remembering how flustered he got after sneaking a peek at the spicy scene you were writing. “It’s alright. I’m sure after tomorrow I’ll at least know what they’re thinking. It’ll be good to talk it out.”

He shrugs with a slight smile. “Okay, but the offer still stands.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely appreciating the offer. “Now, it’s your turn, Cheol Chops. Tell me something about your life to make me feel better about mine,” you half-joke. “Got anything you need to vent about?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “On a scale from zero to Junhui, how good are you at giving advice?”

You both know that Jun is the king of advice. He’s logical and always happy to provide a pro/con list. You smile at the thought. “Probably about 50% Jun, but I lean more towards emotional advice rather than logical. So, take that as a fair warning. What’s up?”

Seungcheol sighs, his voice quieter as he opens up. “I broke a promise that I can’t take back, nor can I fix it. It’s caused some issues at work, and my fire chief put me on temporary leave so I can work through it. But now I’m really thinking about what I want to do next.”

You listen intently, noticing the weight of his words.

“I mentioned the other day that I don’t think wildland firefighting is something I can keep up with. But I don’t want to give up firefighting entirely, so I’ve been considering transferring to an inner-city station. I’d still get the rush of helping people, but it wouldn’t be as physically or mentally demanding. I’d be working in shifts, and the change in scenery could be good for me.”

His eyes drift down, clearly conflicted. “I was really hoping to talk to Jun about it, but I didn't want to bother him, considering everything going on right now. I’m just not sure what the right choice is. What do you think? Should I go back after my leave and risk more trouble, or try something new and potentially fail at it?”

His question hangs in the air, a mix of uncertainty and hope. You can see how much he's wrestling with it, and you want to help him make the decision that feels right.

“I’d say try something new,” you reply thoughtfully, meeting his gaze. “Otherwise, you might find yourself back in the same place, struggling again. Plus, if you give the city option a shot and it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know. It’s not a failure; it’s just learning something about yourself. And that’s always a win in my eyes. It takes courage to step into the unknown.”

Seungcheol feels a slight weight lift off his chest, a warmth spreading in his chest hearing you say that. It’s a small comfort, but it’s enough to give him a bit more clarity, a bit more peace to make that upcoming decision.

Day Seven of Surviving Seungcheol

Sleep was impossible last night. You were too tangled in anxious thoughts to get any actual rest, and now the nerves are eating you alive. You’re jittery as you sit in front of your laptop, the glow of the screen casting a faint light on your face. The meeting is about to start, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Every second that ticks by feels like an eternity, your hands nervously tapping against the edge of the desk as you wait for your team to join the call.

You sit up straighter after the familiar faces appear, trying to shake off the anxiety in your chest as your agent speaks, his voice steady but distant through the screen. You can feel the tension coiling inside you, your nerves prickling with each word.

“Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice,” your agent continues, giving you a polite but businesslike smile. “I know you mentioned being out of town, so we appreciate you making time for us virtually.”

You nod, offering a weak smile in return. “Of course. I’m glad we could make it work.” Your voice comes out a little more strained than you intend, but they don’t seem to notice.

The conversation moves into expectations. They want ‘less dense material, more filler and fluff between the spicy scenes,’ your agent explains, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your heart sinks. Fluff? You don’t want to write a story full of empty space. You’ve poured your soul into creating a rich world, with real characters and stakes, and now they’re asking for less of that?

You can feel the frustration bubbling up, but you push it back, trying to keep your voice steady. “So, you want me to cut out the fantasy aspects? Completely?”

Your agent shifts, clearly trying to soften the blow. “Not entirely. Maybe just scale it back. We think a more erotic romance-focused direction will make the story more accessible. It’ll be easier to market.”

The words sting. You’ve always known writing was a business, but this? This feels like a betrayal of everything you’ve worked toward.

“But that’s not what my reader base expects,” you argue, leaning forward. “They’ve followed me for the story, for the world-building. They expect something more than just... fluff.”

Your agent presses on, oblivious to your concerns. “Look, we think this could broaden your reach, and gain thousands of new readers. We’re just thinking of your career in the long run.”

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. Thousands of new readers? As if the thousands you currently have aren’t enough? The idea of broadening your reader base sounds nice on paper, but what about the readers who’ve supported you from the start? What about the integrity of your work?

“But what about the people who’ve been with me since the beginning?” you ask, voice shaking slightly. “Don’t they deserve to see the series grow, not change into something...plain and unoriginal?”

Your agent’s expression tightens. “Without this kind of direction, there won’t be another book in the series. We can’t keep moving forward unless we adapt.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you struggle to hold it together. The meeting wraps up soon after, but it feels like you’re in a fog, your thoughts spinning. You want to fight back, to defend your story, but the weight of their words crushes you.

You slouch in your seat still just as confused as you were before. What now?

Whenever something bad happens in your life, you’ve always used writing as an escape. But what are you supposed to do when writing becomes an issue?

Sighing, you open your document, eyes scanning over the words you once felt so confident about. Even now, despite everything, they still feel right. And as you reread where you left off, the next scene unfolds effortlessly in your mind.

You lose yourself in your draft, letting Seungcheol’s words echo in your head—write for yourself, write what you want. For the first time in a while, the words flow without hesitation, without second-guessing. Hours slip away unnoticed as your fingers dance over the keyboard, lost in the world you’re creating.

When Seungcheol returns from his run, you hesitate. The weight of your earlier meeting lingers, but you don’t have the energy to explain the looming uncertainty of your novel. How, depending on what happens next, either your team will break your contract, or your readers will revolt over a boring porn-only sequel. Instead, you keep typing, pushing the thoughts away, if only for a little while longer.

Seungcheol doesn’t need words to know something is wrong. He can sense it. The weight in your shoulders, the distant look in your eyes, the way your fingers hover over your keyboard as if second-guessing every word. It doesn’t take much to assume that your meeting didn’t go well.

He wants to ask, but he also knows you well enough after your short time together to recognize that, right now, you’re not ready to talk about it. Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t do something about it.

He hates seeing you like this. If he could, he’d take your burdens onto his own shoulders without hesitation. He’d do anything to lift your mood, to see your lips curve into a genuine smile again. And if you cried, fuck, if they made you cry? He’d burn the whole damn world down just to set things right.

For now, though, he settles for something smaller. Something simple. He disappears into the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for. A few minutes later, the scent of freshly made hot chocolate drifts through the air.

He returns with two full mugs, topped with whipped cream and mini marshmallows. He sets one of the mugs beside you without a word before sinking into the chair across from you.

You sigh, closing your laptop before reaching for the mug. The warmth seeps into your fingers as you take a sip, letting the rich aroma settle some of the unease twisting in your chest.

The two of you sit there in silence, but it’s the comfortable kind. No pressure, no expectations, just the quietness of passing time and the mesmerizing sight of snow falling beyond the window.

When your drinks are finished, Seungcheol takes both mugs to the sink. As he rinses them out, he casually suggests, “You should take a break from writing, clear your head a little.” Then, he turns toward Mika, who’s curled up on the floor. “Mika, wanna go play outside?”

She springs up immediately, her tail wagging as she yaps her answer. He grins. “Tell your mom to get dressed. We wanna play in the snow.”

Mika barks again, turning toward you as if relaying the message. You can’t help but smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

Bundling up in your winter gear, the three of you step outside into the crisp mountain air.

Mika takes off instantly, rolling in the fresh snow, kicking it up into the air like a puppy experiencing winter for the first time. She’s gonna be so sad in a few days when it’s time to leave the mountains and head back to the city where it’s already spring.

You laugh, watching her antics until something cold smacks into your side.

You blink, looking down at the splattered bits of snow before turning toward Seungcheol. He’s standing there, hands tucked innocently behind his back, lips pressed together like he’s trying to suppress a smirk.

“Oh, it’s on,” you warn, crouching to scoop up a handful of snow. You bunch it together in your mittens before launching it at him. It hits him square in the chest, and he stumbles back slightly, eyes wide with surprise at your strength

“Cheolmate,” you declare triumphantly, playing on the word checkmate.

His surprise quickly shifts into a determined grin. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Snowballs fly back and forth as laughter fills the backyard. Mika jumps between you both, snapping at the falling snowflakes and occasionally catching a snowball in her mouth, only to crunch it into oblivion.

Eventually, she loses interest in the fight altogether and gets the zoomies, tunneling through the snow and popping her head up every few feet, like a giddy little groundhog.

Seungcheol pauses mid-throw, watching her with amusement. “Your dog is ridiculous.”

You laugh, cheeks flushed from the cold and the playful chaos. “Yeah, but she fits right in.”

Seungcheol chuckles, moving to stand beside you. Watching you smile, hearing your laughter, it’s everything to him. The way your eyes crinkle at the corners as you watch Mika, the way your dimples deepen with each laugh, the way your entire face lights up with unfiltered joy when you meet his eyes. It’s mesmerizing. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

This is exactly what you need. And if he has anything to do with it, he’ll make sure you keep smiling like this. Always.

The snow begins to fall heavier, dusting both of you with a delicate layer of white. Mika is still running circles in the snow, but your focus is on each other now.

Without thinking, Seungcheol pulls off one of his gloves and reaches out, his fingers brushing gently over your face as he wipes away the snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes. His touch lingers, warm against your chilled skin, and his thumb instinctively strokes your cheek.

Your breath catches when his eyes flick down to your lips, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intense.

Neither of you move for a moment. You stare into each other's eyes as the world around you fades, except for the quiet inhale you take when he slowly leans in.

Before you even realize it, your faces are close enough that his breath fans across your lips.

And then, he finally closes the distance.

His lips press softly against yours; he’s testing the waters and savoring the moment. But the second he feels you respond, the hesitation vanishes. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, laced with emotions neither of you have dared to voice. His hand cradles your face, fingers brushing along your chilled skin as he tilts your chin, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s warm, intoxicating, perfect.

Your arms wind around his neck, fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your lips. He responds in kind, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, drawing a sinful little moan from deep within you.

Seungcheol smiles into the kiss, reveling in how effortlessly you melt into him. How he somehow knows exactly what you like, what you crave. It’s instinctive, effortless like you were always meant to be right here, in his arms.

The world around you ceases to exist. The snowfall, the cold, the rest of the universe, it all fades into insignificance. There is only him. Only the way he kisses you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest together, breath mingling in the crisp air. Your heart stammers wildly in your chest as a terrifying, undeniable truth settles in.

Shit.

Day Nine of Surviving Falling For Seungcheol

Ever since you accepted the fact that you have feelings for Seungcheol (very strong feelings, the kind that makes you want to do crazy, reckless, and borderline courageous things) you haven’t been sure how to act around him.

The past two days have been an absolute disaster. You’ve been a clumsy fool, tripping over your own feet, your words, your thoughts. Which, to be fair, isn’t all that different from any other given day. But now? Now it’s worse, because he’s here witnessing it all, and probably very aware of the fact that he’s the one doing it to you.

Yet, Seungcheol is acting completely normal. Like nothing happened. Like that kiss, the one that turned your entire world upside down, didn’t affect him at all.

Unless...it really didn’t affect him.

And in that case, you’re utterly and completely screwed.

You’re not exactly avoiding each other, but neither of you seems willing to make the first move. Or, technically, the second. It’s a silent game of waiting to see who will cave first.

You want to say screw it and just kiss him again. But what if it was a fluke? What if he only kissed you to make you feel better? Then again, who does that? Who kisses someone just to cheer them up? There had to be something behind it. Right?

You don’t know when it happened or how, maybe it was when he pulled you from your wrecked car, or when he made you coffee that first morning, or when he looked at you like that after your kiss.

Or maybe, just maybe, you've felt this way all along…

After helping clean up dinner, you busy yourself putting away the clean dishes. Watching Seungcheol cook is one thing, but watching him do something as simple as washing dishes? That’s an entirely different level of unfair. The way his forearms flex, the way his hand veins pop out as he scrubs a plate clean, it makes you want to throw all logic out the window and climb him like a tree.

Boyfriend material. Without a doubt.

You need to get a grip.

Sensing your stare, he glances over his shoulder, one brow slightly raised, and you immediately whip your head away. Play it cool. You suddenly need a distraction, so you head to the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water—except, of course, the one you want is just out of reach.

Before you can even debate climbing onto the counter, Seungcheol is there, stepping in behind you without hesitation.

“Here, I got it.”

He moves in close, his chest nearly brushing against your back as he stretches over you. One hand instinctively finds your waist to steady himself, his fingers warm even through the fabric of your shirt. The brief contact sends a jolt through you, but before you can dwell on it, he grabs the bottle and hands it over.

You barely have time to mutter a thanks before your grip fails you and the cold bottle slips from your fingers, tumbling to the floor.

With a sigh, you bend down to retrieve it only to realize that Seungcheol hasn’t stepped back as far as you thought. Your ass brushes against his thigh, and the accidental touch sends a shockwave through both of you.

Startled, you jolt upright, only to whack your head against the counter.

“Shit—are you okay?” Seungcheol asks, immediately reaching for you.

“I’m okay, really,” you insist, waving him off despite the way your face flames with embarrassment.

…

Seungcheol feels bad, really bad. He can’t shake the thought that this is his fault. You seem so uncomfortable around him now that you’re practically injuring yourself just trying to avoid him. At least, that’s what he assumes.

Every time he speaks to you or even just walks by, he notices the way you tense up, how your responses are shorter than usual, like you’re trying to keep him at arm’s length. And it kills him.

But a part of him, a hopeful part, wants to believe that you’re not uncomfortable because you regret the kiss. Maybe you’re feeling the same way he does, wanting more but unsure how to ask for it.

He’s trying to be considerate, giving you space, not wanting to pressure you into anything. But at the same time, he’s starting to second-guess everything. Are your subtle reactions just in his head? Is he reading too much into the way your eyes linger on him, the way your breath hitches when he gets too close?

Or is he not imagining it at all?

He’s gotta do something to figure you out. That’s his only option at this point. If you’d just give him the smallest hint that you want him, he’ll take the lead—gladly. He’ll show you exactly what happens when you both stop tiptoeing around whatever this is and finally give in.

“You know,” you say suddenly, breaking the silence, “Besides the fact that we’ve been stuck together for the last week, we don’t actually know a whole lot about each other.”

Seungcheol finishes rinsing out the sink, dries his hands on a dish towel, and turns to lean against the counter. He crosses his arms before suggesting something, “Huh, you have a point. Maybe we should change that. Let’s play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare,” he says, failing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

You huff out a laugh. “Really? That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yep. Unless you’re scared.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. You go first, then.”

“Dare.” He doesn’t hesitate.

You think for a moment, then grin. “I dare you to call your mom so I can talk to her again. I’m sure she’s got quite a few stories of you to share.”

One of his eyebrows arches before he lets out a chuckle. “Or?”

“Or, if you pass, you have to take a drink.”

Seungcheol snorts, shaking his head. “Hand me a drink then, hun.”

It slips out so naturally, so effortlessly, that he doesn’t even try to recover from it. Why should he? You’ve got an entire arsenal of nicknames for him, what’s the big deal if he throws one back?

His eyes trail down your backside as you turn to the fridge, returning with two beers. He watches the way you move, how your shirt lifts up just slightly when you grab the bottles, revealing a little slice of skin where he’d like to place his lips.

Seungcheol swallows hard and extends his hand out for one of the beers when you turn back around. “Under any other circumstances, I’d let you chat with my mom,” he says with a teasing smile. “But not tonight.” He cracks open the bottle, his gaze locked on yours as he lifts it to his lips.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your drink to settle your nerves.

“Alright, your turn now.”

“Truth,” you say, chickening out.

He grins, sensing your hesitation. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

You groan, “Oh god. The day we met, actually. I ripped my pants escaping through the restaurant’s bathroom window, that’s how bad the date was.”

Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head. That absolutely sounds like something you’d do.

“Kate set me up with the guy, and it was a total disaster. He was rude, his manners were just for show, and it felt like every nice thing he did came with an expectation. Like if he opened the door for me, I owed him something in return, you know?”

Seungcheol's grip tightens around his beer bottle. He does know. And the thought of some guy treating you like that makes his blood boil.

“Okay, your turn again.”

“Truth.”

“Why did you kiss me?” you blurt out.

Seungcheol meets your gaze, his expression is soft but unwavering. “Because I really wanted to,” he admits, remembering every little detail of that kiss. Like how warm you were, how perfectly you fit in his arms, how he hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

Your breath hitches for a moment, but you quickly recover. “Dare.”

A wild thought crosses his mind, and once it’s there, he can’t shake it. He leans in slightly, watching you carefully. “I dare you to finish your drink and then join me in the hot tub.”

The challenge in his voice sends a thrill down your spine. Without hesitation, you tip your head back, downing the rest of your beer. Then, without breaking eye contact, you peel off your shirt, revealing the sheer bra underneath.

“You coming?” you ask playfully, tossing your shirt aside and heading toward the backyard.

Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his brain short-circuiting. He was expecting a little resistance, maybe a joke, but this? Oh, this is so much better.

Swallowing hard, he follows you onto the deck, where you’re slipping off your pants. Fuck. He quickly removes the hot tub cover while you turn it on. The air might be a little chilly, but his body is running hot.

And then you bend over to test the water temperature, still in nothing but your bra and panties, and Seungcheol has to force himself to look anywhere else. If someone had told him earlier today that by nightfall, he’d be out here with you, watching you strip down like it was the most natural thing in the world, he’d have laughed.

But now? Now, he’s just thanking whatever divine force made this his lucky day.

He tosses his shirt aside, then his pants, barely paying attention to where they land. What he does pay attention to, though, is the way your eyes rake over him, the way your breath quickens for just a second. Another perk of being a firefighter is that the hard training keeps you in shape. All those workouts? Yeah, they were worth it just for this moment, just to see you looking at him like that.

“Help me in?” you ask, reaching out.

He takes your hand without hesitation, steadying you as you step up and lower yourself into the steaming, bubbling water. His grip lingers for just a second longer than necessary before he follows you in, sighing as the heat works into his muscles.

“This is nice,” he says, settling in, tilting his head back against the edge. The jets work at the tension in his lower back, but the real relief is sitting across from him, grinning like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Mmm, it really is,” you hum in agreement. Then, with a mischievous, playful glint in your eye, you remind him, “It’s your turn, by the way.”

Oh, right. The game.

“Dare,” he says, smirking, willing to test just how far you’re willing to push this thing between the two of you.

Your grin deepens. “Take off your boxers.”

He arches a brow, amused but not remotely hesitant. Maintaining eye contact, he lifts his hips just enough to slide the soaked fabric down his legs and tosses them onto the deck with the rest of his clothes. The water swirls around him, warm and teasing, but nothing about this feels as thrilling as the way your smile slowly spreads, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you watch him.

“I didn’t think you actually would,” you tease.

He leans in just a little, voice low, teasing right back. “One thing you should know about me, sweetheart,” his smirk turns positively sinful, “I never turn down a challenge.”

You roll your eyes and splash water in his face. "Coupsie Daisy, my bad," you half-heartedly apologize, even though you’re anything but sorry.

Seungcheol wipes the water from his face slowly, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he stares at you with darkened eyes. The playful banter between you shifts into something heavier.

Without overthinking, you move. Climbing onto his lap, your knees press into the seat on either side of him, your barely-there panties doing nothing to hide how hard he already is beneath you. A shaky breath leaves your lips at the contact, and you feel the way his grip tightens on your waist, the way his fingertips begin to trace the curve of your spine.

There’s no pretending now. No more second-guessing. Your bodies are reacting on instinct, drawn to each other like it’s inevitable.

His voice is lower when he finally speaks, his breath warm against your lips. "Are we really going to do this?"

“That depends,” you whisper, rolling your hips just enough to make his fingers dig into your skin. “Is it a dare?”

His jaw clenches. “Do you want it to be?”

“No,” you breathe, tilting forward, your lips brushing against his. “I just want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

Seungcheol crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp as his hands roam your back, pulling you in until there’s no space left between you.

This kiss is nothing like the last. That one had been sweet and gentle. But this? This is fire, hunger, and need all wrapped into one.

You moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you, sending a shiver straight to his cock. The reaction is immediate, and he twitches beneath you, hard and heavy against your core.

You roll your hips again, relishing the way he groans against your lips. “Fuck, you feel so big,” you murmur between feverish kisses, your voice laced with desperation.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, deepening the kiss as his fingers reach behind you. With practiced fingers, he unclasps your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders and down your arms before it disappears into the water.

Seungcheol pulls back just enough to take you in, his gaze hungry as it rakes over your bare chest. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

Then, without warning, he dips his head down, capturing one in his mouth. The heat of his tongue swirls around the sensitive nub before he sucks, making you arch into him with a soft whimper. He moves to the other, giving it just as much attention, his teeth grazing teasingly before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Your fingers sink into his damp hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you pant, “Cheol, I need more.”

Your hand drifts between your bodies, wrapping around his stiff length beneath the water. The moment your fingers curl around him, a deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest. And that’s when he just about loses it.

“Wait,” he rasps against your lips, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours. His breath is ragged, his self-control hanging by a thread. “Wait, baby. Not here.”

His fingers grip your hips, keeping you steady as he stands, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck as he carries you inside.

His lips find yours again as he moves, each step purposeful. He’s determined. The cool air of the house is a stark contrast to the heat rolling off both of you, but it only makes you cling to him tighter.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Then, with a wicked smirk, he lays you down on the bed, hovering over you with darkened eyes full of promise.

"Now," he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jaw, down your neck, "Let me show you how much I want you."

His lips reconnect with your breast, tongue tracing delicate circles over your sensitive skin, while his hand continues its descent. His fingers skim over your stomach, teasing along the waistband of your soaked panties before slipping beneath them.

A small gasp leaves your lips when he pushes the fabric aside, his fingers sliding effortlessly through your slick folds.

Seungcheol pulls back just slightly, his heated gaze locked onto your face as he curls his fingers into you, slow and deliberate. He watches the way your brows furrow, your mouth parting in a silent moan, completely captivated by how responsive you are to him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he repeats, voice thick with desire as he leans in, capturing your lips once more.

The pressure in your core builds rapidly, his fingers coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. Every movement, every stroke, brings you closer and closer to the edge. Your whole body tightens in anticipation. You’re right there—

Suddenly, the sharp chime of your ringtone cuts through the air, breaking the spell between you both. Your breath is still ragged as your eyes snap to your phone on the nightstand, Kate’s photo lighting up the screen.

Seungcheol tears away from you like shrapnel, realization washing over him as he runs a hand through his damp hair. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and for a moment, he just stares at the phone, then back at you, still spread beneath him, panting, needy.

“You should probably answer that,” he says, voice rough as he clears his throat. He hesitates for only a second before adding, “Maybe we should call it a night.”

Before you can protest, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, as if to ground himself, before stepping back and leaving you sitting there, exposed and still trembling from the almost earth-shattering orgasm you were supposed to have.

With a deep breath, you shake yourself out of your daze and reach for the phone.

“Hello?” you answer, voice still breathless.

Kate doesn’t seem to notice. “I have good news! Surgery went well, and we should be home sooner than we thought. I’ll know more tomorrow, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

She continues explaining the procedure, detailing what the surgeons discovered and their plan moving forward, but you’re only half-listening.

Your body is still buzzing, your mind stuck on the way Seungcheol had just touched you, the way he looked at you like you were something he wanted to consume entirely.

And worse than that? The way you still want him right this minute.

“That’s great news. I’m sure Jun is relieved.”

“He is,” Kate says, her voice lighter than it has been in days. Then, after a brief pause, she adds, “Now, want to tell me what took you so long to answer? I called twice.”

Your stomach flips. “Oh, um. I was just busy doing…chores…” you lie, hoping she doesn’t catch the slight tremor in your voice.

Kate is silent for a second, and you can practically hear the smirk forming on her lips. “Oh really? Chores? Is that Cheol’s newest nickname?”

Your mouth falls open. “Shut up,” you grumble, face burning.

She just cackles. “Mm-hmm. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

“Bye! And don’t forget to use protection!” she sings before hanging up.

You groan, tossing your phone onto the bed, and flopping down beside it. Of course, she figured it out. Sisterly intuition should be illegal.

After a deep breath, you drag yourself up and crack your door open, peeking into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is shut. He’s probably already asleep.

With a sigh, you change into your pajamas, leaving your door slightly ajar. Not just for Mika when she finally decides to come to bed, but for him, too. You know, just in case.

But the house stays quiet, and the only visitor to your room that night is Mika, who hops onto the bed and curls up at your feet.

Still, as you settle under the covers, your mind drifts back to the heat of Seungcheol’s hands, the weight of his body, the hunger in his gaze.

You fall asleep thinking about all the ways he could satisfy you. would satisfy you, if only you’d had just a little more time.

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moonriizing · 4 months ago

Text

invisible string | s.jy (18+)

Less than a month before your wedding, a stranger calls, introducing himself as Jay Park—the exact name of the man you once believed to be your soulmate. Driven by a reckless sense of fate, you abandon everything and fly to Italy to meet him, convinced this is destiny’s final chance to set things right.

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.

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]

#enhypen x reader #jake sim x reader #jake sim smut #jake sim fluff #jake sim fanfic #jake sim imagines #jake sim x you #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun fluff #jaeyun imagines #jaeyun enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun x you #enhypen imagines #enhypen jake

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thepsychonyx · 7 months ago

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I want to speak about why the second part of the Best-True ending of Dragon Age Veilguard pierced me so deeply. The Flycam screenshots are from Aru/Elf botanist (YT linked at the bottom).

To set the tone, the music established the emotive themes of the scene. It speaks to the Lost Elf theme- however it is forever changed and lighter. This elf that was Lost for so many years is now Found. There is hope in the strings, there is redemption in each note. This also speaks to the specific codex from the lighthouse in Solas’ secret room. Not his office at the top of the building, extravagant, beautiful, overshadowing all others and looking down in godly benevolence - his private quarters on the main floor, where parts of his travel with the Inquisition surround him.

When Lavellan speaks to Solas, she is using a resolute voice, almost chastising him for thinking he has to do this alone. He has her, and she will keep reminding him.

*Edit: Please note she also speaks the common tongue in this instance.

Solas implores her to think of the dangers the journey he is going on will have, his head is down to show the residual shame and his plea for her safety. But also a part of him hopes. The reason all he says is that “there will be danger” is a statement of warning but not fully entreating her to stay. His heart has a pause, he is prioritising her safety and wants her aware of the dangers.

Note, that he also speaks in Elven in response to her, his first language and mother tongue. As a trilingual, one usually reverts to their more natural tongue during a heightened emotional situation - in this case, Solas' warning statement is also a subconcious plea for her to understand him and join him despite the danger. He will never push her further than she wants to go like he was pushed by Mythal.

This is the shot normally, the downward and side tilt are clear making the imploring effect of his words resonate further. Unlike before where he only looked at her for small spans of time his attention is fully focused since being absolved of his duty. After she responds that she will be with him, forever no matter what, he shifts. This is akin to when making vows “I stay with you in sickness and in death” but they are crossing the boundaries of mortality. This is “I stay with you in any plight, any condition, any reality. I commit my eternity to you”

Her response is an amalgamation of the following:

1) You are not alone in it emotionally and mentally as I am with you

2) Physically I am with you to endure it with you

3) Our joined manifestations will make it a better place quite literally, so the bleak darkness that could have encroached will not exist when we are together

This is also validated a bit by Trick Weekes QA:

She then states their love is eternal, and she chooses to walk on any path with him fully and wholly. A love that transcends time, mortal barriers, immortality, the different realms of existence. This combined with their standing pose as if at the altar of a wedding is the final part of her vows. Said in the same hallelujah pattern and in elven as he would speak - she commits to his language (mentally and emotionally) so he best will understand her declaration. (This is confirmed by @northgalis on Twitter).

This, in front of the witnesses who are the allies who helped them unite in their union, Rook and Morrigan whilst overseen by the Veil itself in the position of holiness. His blood is the bond they now share, the new blood magic in a way that ties them to a new fate of their own making. The veil that brought them together in the beginning of the journey they now tread into together.

Then they confirm their vows with a kiss, she pulls him in first, similarly to their first kiss in the fade and he reciprocates. Solas is weakened, hurting, feeling unworthy of the brightest soul in the universe but she chooses him and he finally submits to his desire and need for her. His duty now to himself, atonement and the woman who chose him with it all in mind.

Aru’s flycam footage also shows the kiss being deeper and him actively

After the kiss, he SMILES. The ending is now so much less bleak it is tender, it is soft it is comfort, it is peace.

A smiling glance. meeting at a crescendo; a shared moment of understanding;

Screenshot from Daoithe on Tumblr.

He then proceeds to thank Rook, for helping him see when he allowed himself to be so plagued by grief and guilt and not giving up on him as it could have turned to despair, revenge and anger, like all the other endings which I hate because they go against his very nature. The other endings spit in the face of his complexity the story keeps explicitly imploring you to see and have empathy. Solas is a spirit of wisdom, when guilt festers that wisdom manifests in the worst possible ways. And with no one to listen and read between the lines, the fate he is subjected too is far too unkind. But here, he not only is freed of his guilt but also, just as importantly and very implicitly, his fear of dying alone.

If you have played inquisition you will recall there is a moment near the climax of Here Lies the Abyss where Inquisitor and their chosen companions go into the Fade. Solas is easily one of the most fascinating and best companions to take with you as he from the onset has been a “Fade expert” and his lines throughout are intriguing and educational. During the quest you come across graves embodying the different characters biggest fears. And Solas? Dying alone. The god who went against everyone he knew for a better world, whose empathy only continued to hurt him and freed others with hopes to better the world is the most lonely man. And he is terrified and within himself brought low by his loneliness in his commitment to the path he feels he must take. This is why the next part transcends the scene.

After the kiss which confirmed their bond and pact - binding them together with love and empathy, wisdom and curiosity married - he thanks rook and looks back at Lavellan, his Vhenan. And it is a *micro second* shot that completely defeats me. His head held high, the concerned imploring tilt gone as he holds his chin higher in appreciation, respect and awe for the woman who chose him. The love of his life, his eternal companion. The only one to truly fully see him, respect him, and love him wholly. Who has forgiven him and chooses a path which only leads to him. He is honoured to be loved by her, and will work to be the better man he feels she deserves, but also beginning to accept that her love for him is in any form he takes. The one he prizes above all others, chose him, and he will never be alone - and that is everything.

Seeing completely, and being wholly seen.

This scene literally destroyed me in the best way. I am left hollow with love and adoration for this character and his relationship to his love Lavellan and no other romance will meet the threshold they have created for me. It is not Solavellan hell no longer, they have transcended to Solavellan heaven.

My playthrough video of the second half of the ending sequence.

Here is Arus Flycam YT video for reference:

Arus Flycam Lavellan POV of the True - Best ending

youtube

#Youtube #Solas #Solavellan #dragon age solas #solas dragon age #solas dread wolf #solas x inquisitor #lavellan #solas x female lavellan #Solavellan heaven

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kumkaniudaku · 7 months ago

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Spoiled

Summary: Tensions boil over on the Thanksgiving trip to New Orleans.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,060

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Previous: Sorry 2024

“Where’s Treece?”

Terry couldn’t care less but entertained the question for his mother’s sake as he took the seat closest to the window at their reserved table for a late breakfast.

“In the room pouting,” He grumbled with his annoyed glare focused solely on the breakfast menu. “She’ll be down eventually. Or not. I don’t know or care.”

Marvin chuckled over his mug of coffee. “I’m not all that convinced, son, but I’ll let you have it.”

As much as they were lovers, Terry and Patrice were friends who bickered like siblings. Petty back and forths reared their ugly heads at inopportune moments, leading to heated, silent arguments. A refusal to raise their voices at each other out of respect resulted in hushed whispers and sarcastic jabs that were so ridiculous to those not involved that Terry’s parents often referred to them as live telenovelas.

Their latest episode was the most trivial to date.

Separate families stationed in conflicting parts of the country forced the newest Richmond couple to compromise on how they split their holiday schedule. With a family known for their culinary pursuits, Terry naturally claimed Thanksgiving for his side. Although she couldn’t bear the thought of missing her Nana’s fresh apple pie, Patrice compromised with the caveat that their New Year’s plans were neutral ground for them and them alone. Handshake and lip lock agreements set them on a path to plan for the final six weeks of the year.

For all of his careful planning, Terry didn’t anticipate how his wife’s commitment to the pupils under her care would collide with his plans to spend extended time in New Orleans.

“Baby, it’s just two days.” He explained to Patrice while he helped clear the table after dinner one evening. “I’ll get you on the first flight out Wednesday morning. Promise.”

“I know, but still. I’m gonna miss you. We’re not apart that often.”

“We’ll make it worth the wait once you get there.”

Repeated promises to steal some alone time once reunited preceded quick kisses as Terry prepared to join his parents and siblings on a flight early Monday morning. But, once the sun set on their first day apart in months, loneliness and frustration set in for Patrice. Text messages slowed to a creep. Sparse voice notes attempted to fill the void left in their near-silent home. She wasn’t mad at Terry for enjoying time with his loved ones. She was pissed at herself for being so lovesick that her stomach churned. Sickening. This type of yearning was sickening.

Excitement took a backseat to unshakeable irritability on her solo flight to the Big Easy on Wednesday morning. No hugs, kisses, or meaningful conversation for 48 hours could send even the most solitary person over the edge. Terry sent messages in droves to share his excitement for her arrival and she fought the urge to snap back at him. His smiling face greeting her at the hotel’s front entrance briefly soothed her ire until the reality that they couldn’t shake his family’s company set in.

Every private conversion came with an intrusion. Kisses meant to go further than a quick peck were interrupted before they could start. Attempts at sneaking away never came to fruition. Soon, Patrice’s sour attitude became Terry’s disposition. He knew his anger was misdirected, but couldn’t find the words to explain his annoyance.

They didn’t speak before bed Wednesday night and barely looked at each other Thursday morning. One angry Richmond was enough. Two made everyone uncomfortable.

“It’s time for breakfast, Treece.” What Terry intended as an innocent reminder came out as a gruff bark that he couldn’t take back before Patrice opened her mouth to respond.

“I know! I can see the time!”

“Then hurry up!”

“Fuck it! I’ll eat by myself!”

“Fine!”

Their silly exchange ended with Terry tossing the second hotel key on the bed before he stomped out of the room, allowing the door to slam behind him.

The moment replayed in his head as he scanned the menu for something they could share in case she made her way out of self-imposed solitary confinement.

“Well, I hope she makes it down. I wanted her to try a few things,” DeeDee added, unaware that the entire conversation was pushing her son to his limits. “The French toast is something.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, if you can get her off the third floor, do whatever you please.”

“She’s probably happy to have you out of her back pocket. My girl can’t catch a break,” Zorah teased.

Zanah laughed and shook her head. “You haven’t seen Patrice. I swear she was trying to climb into his skin when the elevator doors opened last night. They’re equally insane.”

“See what happens when you end up in grown folks’ business?”

“Oh, please.”

Zanah childishly stuck out her tongue and received a middle finger pulled out of his hoodie’s front pocket as a prize for her antics.

“Stop it, you two.”

“I thought when y’all became adults all this shit would slow up,” Marvin groaned, shaking his head as his two stubborn children traded schoolyard insults just short of joking about each other’s mama. Movement in his periphery offered what he hoped was a change of pace. “Oh thank God. The guest of honor is here.”

Patrice offered a weak wave and smile upon her approach, hoping they couldn’t see the remnants of a frustrated cry on her face. Terry could, though. He flashed her a concerned look and she answered with eyes that begged him not to inquire further. A round of hugs and greetings sent her to the empty seat across from her husband.

The friction between them was palpable. They didn’t extend each other the luxury of pet names and googly-eyed grins like they normally would. Time spent canoodling was replaced by stolen glances and tight-lipped requests to pass over utensils.

DeeDee cleared her throat for their attention. “Um, hi. Mom checking in here. Is there a problem between you two that we should be aware of?”

“No,” Patrice answered loud enough to eclipse whatever Terry attempted to share. “We’re fine. James is not feeling very affectionate this morning for reasons unknown, but we’re fine outside of that. Right, James? Just fine, huh?”

“Peachy. Nicole is throwing a tantrum over God knows what but Nicole refuses to say more than three words to me at a time, so, while I love Nicole, I will not spend my morning chasing her around because Nicole is not a child and can use her words.”

Terry’s rant came through gritted teeth, leaving him almost out of breath as he neared the end.

Patrice couldn’t formulate a rebuttal despite wanting to take their spat to the next level. She could only hang on to the firmness in his tone, the words sounding more like a warning than an explanation for their distance. Terry caught the flicker of something mischievous in her eyes and how she slowly crossed her legs beneath the table before grazing her foot against his clothed calf. His frown faltered for a moment. An unspoken understanding was telepathically communicated.

Four sets of eyes stared back at the standoff in utter confusion.

Zanah took a loud sip of water to snap them out of their trance. “Oh-kay. So, I was thinking about gettin’ this crawfish omelet. Daddy, you oughta get the quesadilla so I can get a piece of that and, Zo, you get the Benny.”

“But I don’t wanna share my food with you.”

“Zorah! We are twins. We share!”

Chatter about seafood dressing and late-night spades tournaments planned for the rest of the day swirled around Terry and Patrice as they maintained senseless anger, too committed to the misunderstanding to relent without feeling embarrassed.

The quiet simmer of mixed emotions followed them after tabs were paid, cocktails were consumed, and the elevator lifting them to the third floor was emptied of spectating parties. Terry pretended to type into his phone while sneaking looks at the way Patrice’s ass sat up in her leggings.

“You wanna talk when we get in or what?”

Patrice turned to look over her shoulder. “We can.” Her eyes caught the slow lick of his bottom lip before flickering back up to find him already watching her. “If you want.”

“Good. I’m tired of the attitude.”

“Great because I’m tired of yours.”

Having a civil discussion became a background thought once the soft buzz and click of their room door put them seconds away from the privacy they so desperately craved.

Terry covertly slid the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside handle before double-checking the deadbolt lock and metal latch. Patrice busied herself with the television remote, turning a rerun of CSI: Miami up to a reasonable volume. Just enough to drown out an explosive meeting of minds or bodies.

“Ready?” Terry questioned as he pulled his hoodie up, then over his head to deposit it on the back of the nearby desk chair. “We only have an hour or so before we need to head out.”

“I think we can settle this pretty quick. Don’t you?”

“Depends. I got a lot to say.”

They watched each other step out of their shirts, socks, and pants, still pretending that some relationship chat was on the other side of their time together.

Down to thin layers of underwear and insatiable desire, they met for skin-to-skin contact. Patrice set a pace that only Terry could match. Frantic hands gripped broad shoulders to hike one long leg around his waist. Heavy hands found a home beneath round ass for a full sensory experience.

Patrice pulled away from a messy kiss for a deep enough breath to bark instructions at her phone for a 15-minute timer. The race was on. Friction would either bring a resolution or be why they found common ground.

Words were hard to come by during a hungry heavy-petting period. Shared breaths and wandering hands communicated every need, peeling away the last barriers that kept them separated. Touch me like this. Kiss me there. I need you here.

Soon, the itchy hotel carpet pressed into the delicate skin of Patrice’s knees while she looked up at a clenched jaw and flexed abs. She wanted to feel him grow to all of his glory inside her mouth, and he was happy to oblige her request. A fist full of knotless braids kept Terry feeling like he had control of the situation, though they both knew the truth.

Gagging and gawking provided a filthy auditory masterpiece that he hoped to remember for as long as he lived. Curses meant as praise fueled her performance as she pressed crescent moons into his thighs to remain stable. Her lash extensions drooped under the weight of alligator tears. Her jaw ached from being stretched to capacity over and over. Her thighs burned from her kneeling position. None of the discomforts could deter her from the goal.

Terry gently placed a warm palm on Patrice’s cheek, admiring her work with a hazy smile. “Missed me, huh?” he breathed out, earning a grin.

“Mhmmm.”

“I missed you, too. Come here.”

“Missed” was an understatement. A flat-out lie. He was just as needy, just as excited to be inside her, just as ready to abandon demure social norms to unleash the lust and love brewing inside as she was.

An indescribable pleasure emerged from using and being used. No holds barred. Unrestrained aside from muffled groans unleashed into crisp white pillowcases and skin slick with fresh sweat.

Terry kept Patrice’s chest pressed into the bed with one hand splayed between her shoulder blades and the other tangled at her roots. She fisted the sheets to keep a grip on the bed and reality while her eyes went in and out of focus. An open mouth produced choked squeaks between sharp breaths. She listened to her name roll from her lover’s lips like a sonnet written just for her.

He was close. His body tensed with every stroke. Sweet talk broke into throaty groans. Hips lost their rhythm as they sought deeper connection. It was a good angle, but Patrice knew it could be better. It had to get better. This had to be worth it. Who knew when they’d have the chance to fuck each other senseless in the city they made their first commitment to rekindle an almost forgotten flame?

“Let me see you,” Patrice moaned, her head turned just enough to get Terry’s attention. “Please. I wanna see your face.”

Exhausted limbs shifted and reconnected at the head of the bed, dragging linens along with them. Patrice propped her body on one elbow to shorten the distance between their faces before pulling Terry into a kiss by the back of his head. He was equally tender and possessive, leading with full lips and a tongue eager to taste the remnants of juice and syrup left inside her mouth.

Then came fingers. Patrice replaced her swollen lips with her middle and ring digits in search of lubrication for other pursuits. The dull ache between her legs needed concentrated attention to reach the promised land. Terry didn’t need further direction. He did as he was told with a gaze just playful enough to convey that he knew what was up. He couldn’t wait to witness what she had in store.

Their foreheads pressed together as they focused on the slow, lazy circles Patrice drew on her pearl. Terry added his contribution according to her pace, drawing in and out so dazed that he wouldn’t have been able to repeat his name if prompted.

His brow furrowed to match his effort. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

He meant his compliment for his wife though he spoke the words to the body responsible for his glee in the moment. She giggled and threw her head back like a cowgirl to enjoy the ride.

Terry readjusted his angle to chase her lips as a familiar tingle set in. His arms hooked one leg at the bend of her knee before pressing forward on one hand for leverage to drive faster. Harder.

They were close again, each chasing an individual high harder and faster than before.

Patrice tried to play innocent as her sultry voice egged him on with seemingly innocuous statements. “You’re so good to me, baby. What did I do to deserve you, hm?”

He tried to slow down, tried to prolong the moment despite his hips driving forward with more and more power. Patrice licked and kissed the shell of his ear to egg him on.

“Don’t hold back, Terrence. I’m all yours.”

A whimper escaped past his lips before a simple concession speech. “Oh…fuck.”

An unraveling. Muffling broken words against lips curled into a triumphant smile, Terry came undone with his eyes clamped shut to see colors dance behind closed lids. Her orgasm crashing in wasn’t enough for Patrice to break eye contact. She stared back the entire time, mouth opened and eyes transfixed in a devious stare under low eyelids. She didn’t want to miss a moment of his chest heaving, arms tensing, and hips bucking to deliver her the perfect body high she could get without drugs. Earth-shattering, thigh-quaking releases had their place, no doubt. They could never replace the sensation of falling more in love with every electric shockwave brought forth by the love of her life.

Terry floated back into reality feeling lightheaded, stress-free, and searching for sweet kisses to cap off filthy deeds.

“Baby, you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” he joked before pressing three quick pecks to Patrice’s lips. “Spoiled and gorgeous.”

She giggled along with him. “If that’s true, why haven’t I been able to get rid of you yet.”

“Because I like you like that. You think I do all this for you to be normal?”

Light laughter and yet another round of theme song guitar synths rang out as they disconnected and found rest cuddled atop crumpled sheets. Patrice shifted to place her chest on top of Terry’s and traced her index finger along his beautiful cheekbones.

“We’re playing with fire, TJ. I know you got the notification about this week being risky.”

“Don’t act like I was the one throwing a tantrum this morning.”

“A tantrum is strong, okay! A tiny meltdown, maybe.” The sudden ring of her long-forgotten alarm cut their laughter short and drew attention to the nightstand. “Right on time.” Patrice stretched across Terry to handle the distraction, drawing his physical attention as he caressed and dropped kisses along her hip. She came back to him and kissed both of his lips separately. “Sorry for being a bitch. I’m working on it.”

“Ask for what you want next time. It’s yours. I’m yours,” He answered as he pushed a few stray braids over her shoulder.

“Use my words?”

“Use your words.”

“I need more kisses. Or I'll melt. You wouldn't let me melt, right?”

Amorous feelings were back on the rise as they shared a slow, relaxed kiss unfit for two people on a tight schedule.

Patrice pulled a way first to nuzzle her nose against Terry’s. “D’you wanna shower with me? It’s okay if you don’t. I just…need to spend a little more time together.”

She was bashful, almost refusing to look him in the face as if asking him to bathe together was somehow more revealing than what they’d just shared.

“Not too hot on the water, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

Terry chuckled as another kiss and loose instructions sent Patrice on her way with a giddy hop in her step. He listened to her make arrangements in the bathroom while he made the room more like somewhere to sleep and not ground zero of a natural disaster.

He placed clothes in neat stacks, straightened items that took a tumble in the heat of the moment and piled dirty sheets in the middle of their bed. When all was complete, he took a seat to contact the front desk.

“Hey, could we get some fresh sheets later today? Room 335.” Patrice calling for him from the shower made him smile against the receiver. “Sure, extra towels too. Yes ma’am. I appreciate it.”

Thank God for housekeeping. In one hour the room would return to pristine condition for another romp or relaxation. A night of good food and better drinks would decide their fate for them.

-------

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee

#aaron pierre #terry richmond x oc #terry richmond #rebel ridge

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tojikai · 2 years ago

Text

Sundered 4: GEARS

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, suggestive smut, arguments, name-calling, L-bombs(lol)

word count: 6.7k

Decisions take seconds to make but can take months and even years to realize and regret.

“I still love you, Y/N. So, so much.”

Satoru wept, sniffing as he ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. His vision was cloudy but the memories in his head were crystal clear. The day he met you, the day you told him the news; it was unexpected, but it gave Satoru a warm feeling in his chest. How could he let himself forget that feeling so easily?

You don’t get to get her back. A voice in his head once again whispered to him, allowing sobs to erupt from his lips.

The day he separated from you, he told you you’ll make things work, no matter what it takes. A few weeks after that his mother introduced Naomi to him. It wasn’t her job but she helped him work on himself, gave him all that she has to offer, and held him when he felt like losing his mind.

You were almost out of reach, mostly just talking to him when it concerns your daughter. It almost felt like he was fighting alone. It made him feel like he was not changing anything. He barely sees your face; barely feels you.

And then it happened, in such a short span of time. Naomi was the only one he sees, the only one he feels with him.

“It could work, you know? But only if both sides are committed to making it work.” She said, “But like these gears,” She pointed at the constructible toy train of his daughter, “The gears will only work if they fit.” Satoru didn’t need to hear any more of her words to understand what she was trying to explain.

He found himself smiling at her smiles and laughing at her laugh. He found himself saying: “We kinda fit, don’t you think?” nudging her playfully as they walked Yui to the park, earning a shy laugh from her.

He found himself spending more time with Naomi than spending time figuring things out with you. It all just happened in such a short span of time.

It felt like setting himself free when he didn’t have to think about the problems with you. It was emancipating to just lie under the covers, snuggled up in bed with Naomi’s skin against his. It was a breath of fresh air to share the same breath as her every morning and night as they soak in each other’s embrace, feeling the warmth of their swollen lips on one another.

He wishes that he considered the day he’ll see you like that with someone else.

To say that he was shocked when you came and saw him with Naomi was an understatement. He didn’t want it to be like that. He wanted to introduce her to you, to explain things to you, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want you to think that you meant nothing to him. But at that time, he thought that he meant nothing to you.

He searched for the emotions in your eyes but failed. He waited for your questions of “Why?” and “How?” but they never came. It’s like you just really stopped giving two shits about whatever happens in your relationship. And Naomi’s words reverberated in his head: “The gears will only work if they match.”

And that’s how his decisions were made.

That you deserve someone who’ll treat you how you want to be treated; that he deserves this serenity with Naomi, too. He’s not some kind of hero to keep heading for war when there’s a humble abode waiting for him. He thought that there was nothing for you and him but different paths. Maybe this is how falling out of love happens, he thought.

And that is how he learned that decisions can sometimes take months and even years to realize and regret.

“I love you too much to fight anymore, Y/N.” Satoru was pretty sure that he was inaudible and incomprehensible by now. The cracks in his voice and his occasional hiccups were probably louder than any sound near his phone. “You know, I never meant any of the shit I said to you that day. You and Yui were the best thing to ever happen to me, never will I regret you, love.”

He couldn’t even pay attention to your voice as he harshly wiped his tears away, blinking his eyes to look up at the blurry, colorful lights “I know you’re happy, I know you don’t even want to see me again if you’re given a choice.” Satoru shook his head, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt so as to help with the ache that is now smoldering his chest.

“But I just want to take those words back.” He whispered, running out of breath before quickly gasping, “Hell, I just want to take everything I did after I gave up on us back.” Getting nothing was painful enough, and so is getting up.

He doesn’t know where he’s going but he trusts that his feet will take them to where he belongs.

—---------------------------------------

“Yeah, she’s sleeping now. Sunburnt and all.” You laughed, tilting your head as you tried to hold your phone between your ear and your shoulder. “‘Gumi talk, Daddy. Pwease,” You heard Megumi’s voice over Toji’s chuckles. You and Yui spent all day at their residence once again. The kids had a mini swimming party with the neighbor’s son, Yuuji.

You can’t deny that your little girl’s been a bit more energetic nowadays. She’s also learning things, like pouring beverages into a cup; something from the internet that Toji has been teaching Megumi to do. “What do you wanna say?” Toji answered before the little kid’s voice followed. “Yui later. Come later. Uh, bye.” The little message made you giggle.

“She’s asleep now, ‘gumi~ We’ll visit again soon.” You heard Toji playfully scold him to go to bed already before getting back to the call, “I’ll tuck him in now. I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.” Humming, you said your good nights before ending the call. You watched Yui sleep, caressing her soft, blushing cheeks.

Everything’s been going good, and you could only hope that it’ll also be good for her.

Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, three knocks at the door almost gave you a heart attack. It’s already late, who could it be? The place is a three-unit, up-and-down apartment, maybe someone got the wrong door. Wrapping yourself in a robe, you walked to the door. There was a muffled sound behind, and you can’t miss your name being mumbled.

You know the voice too well to wait any longer for confirmation.

“Satoru?” You spoke, brows knitting together. His hair and shirt were soaked in sweat. “Hey…” He laughed, standing straight as he stared at you with bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? “What’s going on, Satoru?” You opened the door, letting him make his way inside as you gave him a concerned look.

“I mean it, Y/N.” What is he talking about? You wondered as he looked at you, sobbing all while trying to catch his breath. If somebody else saw him, they’d probably think something really awful happened. Not once have you seen him this broken before; not even when you fought so bad he had to leave the house.

“Satoru, I don’t understand you. You’re dru–“ You were cut off when he wrapped his arms around you, crying on your shoulders as he grabbed the sides of your robe, like a child not wanting to be left alone. “Y/N, please. I know what I’m saying, love.” He was gasping for air as he spoke, pulling away

“I know I’m drunk but not drunk enough to make wrong decisions.” His laugh lacked enthusiasm. Pulling away, you could see the smile on his face contradicts the big tears cascading down his cheeks. “Did you drive here?” You pulled away from his grasp, thinking about the next thing to do.

“No, I walked here. Let’s talk, please. Just a few–“ His face was close to yours, begging. His voice broke, and it broke you too and you know you can’t keep listening if he’s like this. “Satoru.” You turned, taking a step away from him. You could hear the shaky breath he took by how quiet it was.

“Yui’s already asleep.” You informed him, a subtle reminder that you wouldn’t want her waking up to a commotion again. Satoru nodded, lips quivering. “I can call Naomi to pick you up–“ You trailed but it was now his turn to cut you off. “No. I don’t…want that.” He knows it doesn’t sound right, and it gave you the impression that they fought.

“Fine, just your mom, then.” You turned to get your phone but his hand caught your wrist, a secure yet gentle grip. “No. Please.” He sounded like a kid. What has he done that not even the both of them can know that he’s here? “Can I stay here? Just for the night. I’ll sleep on the couch, Y/N. W-we’ll talk later… right?” He was on the verge of crying and you can’t stand there to watch any longer.

You don’t think it was a good idea, but this is the father of your child. Whatever happens to him will affect your daughter too.

“Just…wash up. Change. Check on Yui, if you want. I got a folding bed if you want to sleep there.” You turned around before walking back to your room, not waiting for the man to answer. You were planning to have some tea before going to sleep but now you just want to call Toji.

In two rings, you heard his voice from the other line. “Sorry, were you sleeping already?” You paced around your room, pursing your lips. “No, I was just checking on some files. Are you alright?” Concern was prominent in his voice. You wanted to tell him about this because he has a habit of coming over in the mornings. You surely don’t want him getting the wrong idea.

“Listen, Satoru’s here. I feel like he fought with Naomi, I don’t really know. He’s in Yui’s room.” There was a long silence and you got a feeling he was thinking carefully about how to react. “Is he trying to…” Toji cleared his throat before sighing, “Do you need me to go there?” He asked, and you could tell he was not very comfortable with your situation.

It’s only been a couple of months but Toji’s proven nothing but sincerity to you and it was all unconditional. You’re aware of the tension between him and Satoru; the latter being more impolite than the former. But even so, Toji never tried to take away the father role from Satoru. This only heightened your respect for him.

“It’s fine, I just wanted to tell you. I don’t want you thinking anything if you saw him here tomorrow.” You plopped on the bed, massaging your temple as you closed your eyes. “So, you know I’ll be going there tomorrow?” There was a chuckle behind his words. You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Go to sleep.” You rubbed your eyes, with a small smile on your lips. Once again, good nights were exchanged between the two of you. You’re just glad that Toji isn’t as shallow as other men. You were worried that your decision to let your ex stay for a night would upset him. Putting your thoughts to rest, you lay down on the bed, feeling the soft mattress against your skin.

Not even half an hour has passed and another set of knocks startled you. The fact that you have no idea what happened with Satoru made you worry. Could it be Naomi? Was your name involved in their fight? You doubt that she’d come here at this hour, though. You don’t see her as that type of woman at all.

You don’t even know if they really fought. Thoughts raced through your head as you hurried to the door. You wondered if Satoru was woken up by the knocks. He’s drunk and he sleeps like a log when he's drunk. But it would be different if your daughter starts crying. You don’t really want to talk with him about whatever it is.

It scares you when you think about how ‘the talk’ with him ended the last time. The day he shredded the last remaining hope you had of him, you and your daughter being a family.

Seeing headlights shining down your window pane, you wondered if Toji really drove here to accompany you. But he can’t be that fast, you thought as you opened the door.

Dressed in her expensive coat and a designer scarf, was Satoru’s mother, and you could already tell that she was not in her best mood. If Naomi and Satoru fought, you’re sure that your name’s mentioned.

Without thinking, you moved out of the doorway to let her in, “Good evening, Ma’am—” Slap. The next thing you know, you were already grabbing your cheeks. The skin was throbbing from the force of the contact and you were sure that this is about to leave marks later on.

“Won’t you quit being a slut?” You thought that the stinging sensation on your face was already painful, but those words proved you wrong. You felt degraded, humiliated even when no one was around; you felt like your whole being was trampled on. You don’t even know what you did. Does she hate you that much?

She used to claim that you ruined her son’s life. That you were just trying to leech off him so you wouldn’t need to work or use your brain. Those words broke your heart, not for yourself but for your mother who tried so hard to give you all that she can. When Satoru confronted her about it, she cried to him, blabbering about why she was right.

It wasn’t easy to speak about those things, you don’t want to make it seem like you were tearing him away from his mother, all while you were tearing him apart due to your situation back then. But you made sure that he knows the reason why you don’t want her around your daughter so much.

You wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one who coaxed Yui to call Naomi Mama. After all, she’s also the same mother who shoved someone else into her son instead of helping to make sure that his granddaughter would grow up with a whole family. Do you disgust her that much? It shouldn’t be painful anymore at this point. She already won in kicking you out of her son’s life.

“I-I don’t know what’s going on, Ma’am. My daughter’s sleeping can we talk outside—?” Her scoff halted you. You found yourself wishing that you let Toji come over or for Satoru to wake up. “Now, you don’t want your daughter hearing about her mother’s mess?” She hissed at your face, laughing as you pushed yourself to walk out and close the door behind you.

“Satoru’s here Ma’am but I don’t—” Another slap landed on your face and this time it took everything in you not to throw the punch you were saving in your fist. “How fucking desperate can you be?” With her eyes blown wide in surprise, she pushed passed you, mouth foaming with her nasty words.

“Satoru!” She called out, walking like she owns the place. “You really took advantage of his feelings for you. You’re always so ready to ruin his and Naomi’s relationship so he’d go back to you.” She turned, pointing a finger at you. Your eyes widened at her words. Satoru’s feelings for me? You were confused.

“Just so you know, my son’s never been healthier ever since he left you. He doesn’t need a toxic relationship with a woman he didn’t even choose to be with.” The words were sharp and the way to your daughter’s room felt like you were being shot with each step. You already know that.

Why does she have to keep rubbing it to your face that you weren’t someone he voluntarily chose to love?

“Please don’t bring the child to this. I know you—” You felt like you never had the chance to speak a full sentence. “Of course, I won't. I won’t let her grow up with you. For what? So she could turn out to be like you, too? Satoru!” The words filled you with dread. You feared that they could easily take her away from you by any means they can. You got nothing to give.

Before she could even open the door to your daughter’s room, Satoru already came out. The emotions on his face were indiscernible as she stared at his mother. “Don’t take Yui, please. I won’t talk to Satoru if you want, just don’t take my child away.” You cried, ready to get down on your knees but Satoru was immediately on your side.

“What is this? What is going on? Mom!” Satoru held your figure, shaking violently and your skin, cold. You tried to get out of Satoru’s grasp, wanting nothing but to get close to your child who’s already starting to cry. You hated yourself for putting her in situations like this.

“Let me get Yui, Satoru, please. You can’t take her away.” Satoru was now the one baffled. His head felt like someone was hitting his skull with a hammer from the inside. Now, he wakes up to his mom causing commotion in a house where his daughter is in.

“No one’s taking Yui away, Y/N.” One of his arms wrapped around your waist, and the other, shielding you from his Mom. Satoru used to believe that his mother only wanted the best for him. He didn’t realize that what his mom wants for him is not the best for his daughter. “Mom, what are you doing?!” He reiterated through clenched jaws as you slipped away to get to Yui.

“You ask me what am I doing? You! Satoru, what are you doing, letting this whore ruin you and Naomi?” Satoru’s eyes widened, "Mom!" he looked at you and his wailing daughter, holding her against your chest. Terror was clear in her tear-stained face as she peeked over your shoulders, while you try to keep her eyes away from the chaos, “Bad Meemaw, Bad!” She sobbed, pointing her finger.

Satoru was about to close the door when his mother tried to beat him to it. “Is this how you want to raise your daughter, Satoru? In this environment?!” She was fierce with her words and Satoru’s just slowly putting the pieces together as she spoke. “She’s messing with your head, Satoru. Look at her, getting it on with another rich guy to milk, trying to make you come back to her.”

“You're the one creating this environment. Why did you even come here?” He questioned, stepping in front of her to prevent her from getting to you. “Where else would you be? You just called me saying you still love this bitch—” You don’t understand how a person could hate you so much when you’ve done nothing but try to respect them. “Don’t speak of her like that, Mom! You’re not of any help.” There was a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Satoru’s mother was the second wife to his father. Your mother used to say that 'the woman's just bitter because she knows that she’ll never really have his father’s heart even if she’s the one with him.' The first wife of his father went away, not wanting her only child to be in such tough and disconcerting conditions and just letting Satoru’s father be with his Mom.

Thinking about it now, you realized that your situation is kind of similar.

“Ma, no cry. Ma.” You heard your daughter reach for your face, making you ache even more. History really does repeat itself, you thought. “Mama’s fine.” You felt sorry for your child; for allowing her to witness something this chaotic. You wished that you’re a bit more well off, maybe her mother wouldn’t be so small and fragile against people like her grandmother.

“I didn’t call Y/N...” Satoru whispered, turning to look at your back as you tried to protect your daughter from the scene. “Just because he’s wasted and he’s telling you that he loves you, doesn’t mean you get to slither up at him like a snake!” Words were thrown at you and only now have you realized the situation.

Satoru tried to call your number to tell you that he loves you.

Your eyes snapped up at him, catching him looking already looking at you. He did plan to let you know about how he feels. But he didn’t want you to find out like this. He already messed up by letting himself break down and call the wrong person. Hell, he shouldn’t have even said it in a call.

It just hurts so bad. It’s like the words would pierce their way out of his heart and lungs if he didn’t get them out.

He can’t even expect anything, and he doesn’t even know how you’d take it. He could lose you completely after all this and that’s the last thing he wants. Now that you have Toji, he’s got no choice but to stand aside and watch. Like how he made you feel with Naomi. The thought made Satoru swallow as he took in your crying face; his chest throbbing with pain.

“Mom, can you please just leave?” He spoke in a low voice, breathing hard to stop himself from exploding. “You said too much already. Just go, this is my problem to fix.” His mother’s face tells Satoru she’s not letting up so easily and it took everything in him not to scream back at her.

“Of course, I have so much to say. I am helping you because she has done so much to you–“ Before she could even her sentence, Satoru was already raising his voice at her, making you cover your daughter’s ear. “Mom, all you did was make things worse!” It was a bad sight, you’ve never seen him get angry at his mother.

Knowing her situation with his Dad, Satoru always chose to be understanding to her. He once told you that he always wants his mother to feel loved and cared for because his father would never give her enough of that. “How could you? All because of–“ She trailed.

“You’re trespassing, Mom.” He said firmly, forcing himself to calm down. She knows what Satoru meant by that. You could file a case against her if she continues to cause trouble. “Listen, I don’t know what this woman fed you, but you better get your head straight.” She pointed a finger at Satoru’s face.

“I created this problem. Let me fix it by myself.” You could tell that fighting with his Mom is the last thing Satoru wants to do. There was a tired look on his face as he shook his head, “I wouldn’t want to create a space between us Mom. But I can’t let you involve yourself in every decision I make.” His mother can sense the light threat in Satoru’s words.

“Then, make the right decisions, Satoru. Stop ruining your life for someone with no future.” Before any of you could even talk, his mother was already stomping her way out of the room, slamming the door like it’s hers, causing Yui to start crying again. You sat there, thinking about everything you just heard.

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s alright.” Satoru took Yui from your arms, eyes full of worry. Rocking the weeping child in his arms, he hung his head low as you stared at him. You wiped the tears that were about to fall as you stood up, heading to the living room and letting him put Yui back to sleep.

You let yourself cry, you let yourself think. Just when you thought you were getting better, just when you started to accept everything that has happened. Yui’s cries slowly stopped after almost half an hour. You wanted to go there and put her to sleep by yourself but you don’t want her to see you cry anymore. It’s not good.

“What were you trying to do, Satoru?” were the first words that came out of your mouth. He stood there, motionless as he watched you turn away to wipe your eyes. “I…I love you. I didn’t mean it when I said I regret you or Yui. I love you.” His answer was a whisper but it was firm. Your eyebrows furrowed, tears once again threatening to fall. “Why?” You sobbed, “Why now?”

Satoru doesn’t know what to answer. He doesn’t even know if there’s a right answer but all he knows is he can’t expect anything from you. “I…I still do. I don’t think I ever stopped, I—“ He was cut off by your sharp intake of breath as you clutched the fabric of your robe to your chest. He let himself see how much he destroyed you again, how he heartlessly tore you apart once more.

“Why are you trying to ruin me again? Why are you trying to take away what I just got?” Your shoulders shake as you lean your forehead on your clasped hands. He wanted to hold you but he feared that you'd run away. Like how you’re getting harder to reach right now, with every passing second.

“You have no idea how much I wanted you to say that before all this, Satoru. You have no idea how many nights I had to cry myself, putting myself back together while you were trying to make someone else whole!” You turned to him, cheeks and eyes swollen from crying. “You have no idea how many times I blamed myself for not being the better one for you…” You whimpered.

It felt as though your words were a blow to his body, determined to crush his diaphragm to gouge his heart out as payment for yours that he stomped on so many times. Your hands were visibly shaking as you wiped your eyes with the back of it before speaking again, “You can’t say you love me now just because you want to, Satoru.”

“I know I can’t change anything…” Everything that comes out of Satoru’s mouth makes him feel stupid. If he was you, he wouldn’t even listen to him. While you both had your shortcomings in your relationship, Satoru knows that you wouldn’t have pulled yourself away if he didn’t give you a reason to.

“...but I can make it better, Y/N. I can prove it to you. Just let me—” He was getting desperate to put his feelings into words but you don’t want to hear it. He should’ve known. “Naomi is a good woman. She’s…a perfect fit for you.” You laughed bitterly, “Don’t hurt her. You know why I didn’t fight even when I wanted to get you back?” Each snivel that you make was a nail to his heart.

“Because you looked happy together.” The pain in your voice was thick before you gasped for air. “And I didn’t want to be unfair to you and to Naomi.” There was a sad smile on your face, probably reminiscing the day you found out he moved on from you. “So…please. Let’s not be unfair to Toji, too.” You looked up at him, smiling through your tears.

You looked tired; so, so tired of it all.

“But I love you…” He breathed out as you stood up, ready to retire to bed. “...I just wanted you to know that.” He grabbed your hand, urgently kissing it as he sobbed. You watched his face contort with sadness, closing his eyes and letting his tear slide over the bridge of his nose as he tilted his head to your palm.

You looked away, suppressing your cries; feeling it harder to breathe through the pain the more you feel his touch. You pulled your hands away slowly before quickly walking to your room.

Before you locked the door, you could hear his wails of anguish and the sound of two hearts shattering once more.

—------------------------------------------------

You woke up to the feeling of the bed dipping on your side. What time is it? When did you fall asleep? Yui. Remembering your daughter made your eyes snap open, trying to stand up immediately.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, it’s me, I’m here.” It was Toji, when did he come here? The brightness of the color of your curtains indicates the light of the sun shining down behind it. “I forgot that I fell asleep.” You sighed. In fact, you don’t even remember getting on your bed. The last thing you were doing was crying on the floor beside the bedside table. Did Satoru put you in your bed?

“Satoru left after feeding Yui her breakfast. She’s playing on my phone.” He got closer to kiss your forehead. “It’s too early for phones.” You yawned, covering your face with a blanket before sitting down. “Megumi’s with her, I’m taking their phones away after we eat.“ You nodded, pursing your lips as you remembered all the events from last night.

“Let me brush my teeth, I…got something to tell you.” You can see Toji licking his lips before humming, “Alright, we'll talk about it. I cooked something.” Letting him kiss your cheek as you stood on your knees and wrap your arms around his neck. His hands automatically snaked around your waist, murmuring “Let’s talk while eating.”

You told Toji about what happened the other night. Not as detailed as you remember it but you made sure that he knows everything he needs to know. No matter how awkward it was to discuss for you. There was a blank look on his face throughout the story and you can’t help but feel concerned.

“So that’s why he told me to take good care of you before he left.” It was obvious that he was tense, “I should’ve come last night.” Sighing, you shook your head, “It’s alright, I handled it. Please, try not to worry. You’re my boyfriend now.” You moved to sit beside him, pecking his lips.

You didn’t know how else to reassure him, you don’t like seeing the defeated look in his eyes. Throughout the day, he would randomly kiss you; burying his face in your neck. He’s more clingy than usual, and although it worries you, you find it really cute.

The following weeks proceeded the same, Satoru picking up Yui and Naomi tagging along wasn’t new but it happened for consecutive weeks now. You don’t know if Satoru told her, but she showed no signs of it. Though her gazes linger between you and Satoru at times, but there’s not a hint of hostility to it.

You don’t really know how they are with each other in private, but there’s a noticeable change in Satoru’s behavior towards her. “Get your bag from Naomi.” Satoru once commanded your daughter when you came to get her from his house. “Naomi?” She repeated, and running only after he nodded at her, confirming how she should address her.

“Did you take a cab? Toji’s not with you.” He would speak to you in a voice he never did before, it almost shocked you. He lost weight, he looks exhausted. “Yeah, he’s at work.” You answered earning a hum from him. “If you’re comfortable, I can take you home. It’d save you money, you know?” It was now your turn to hum, locking eyes with him.

When did they start looking this gently at you?

“You ready to go?” Naomi cleared her throat, suddenly appearing with Yui behind Satoru. “Yeah, I’ll be driving them home then I'll head straight to work.” He gave her a small smile, picking Yui up before taking the bag that Naomi was giving to you. “Bye, I love you.” Naomi stood on her tippy toes, kissing the side of his lips. “I'll see you later…love you." He responded.

The change on Naomi’s face cannot go unnoticed as she glanced at you. You looked down, feeling bad that she was probably anxious. And the fact that she’s clueless about it all just made it heavier than it already is.

Satoru opened the door of the passenger side for you. Now, he would usually let you sit on the back. You had to glance back at his house to know if Naomi saw it. You don’t want her to have problems with you when in fact, you're trying to help her.

“How are you and Naomi?” You found yourself asking Satoru as he sat beside you, his eyes watched you from the rearview mirror. “I’m trying. I really am. But I can’t force myself, Y/N.” He looked away, biting his lip. Your daughter was talking to her doll behind you and you’re just grateful that she’s still too young to understand this.

“Satoru, she’s been nothing but good to you. She did a lot of things for you.” You spoke gently. You’re surprised that you could now talk about this more calmly. Because it involves you. And you wouldn’t know what to do if Naomi finds out that her boyfriend’s still in love with you, begged you to take him back and never told her. You don’t owe her anything but you’re not that type of person.

“Would it be right to stay with someone for that sole reason?” He asked, and suddenly, you don’t know the answer. “It might only hurt them more if they find out that you stayed with them just because you feel obligated to and not because you truly love them.” He explained, smiling when he heard his baby daughter call his name randomly.

“It’s Dad. Not ‘Toru” You reached over to pinch her cheek, silently thanking her for breaking the ice. “Toji Dada too? Hm?” You can see Satoru tense up before a sad look flashed in his eyes. “I don’t know, love...Ask Mama?” You can tell he was hurt by how he got quiet. The little joy left in his eyes, now completely gone.

“You know Toji corrects her for that.” You defended as you stopped at the red light. “It’s good, though. I…” Pausing, Satoru took a deep breath. “I think he’s gonna be that, anyway.” He laughed, tapping the wheel before turning to look at you.

“You know I just want to prove to you that I love you, right? You don’t have to love me back, I know you’re happy with him.”

—----------------------------------------------------

Naomi’s been observing her boyfriend for the past few months. She can’t really determine what exactly changed but she knows that it wasn’t the same. The day you picked up Yui with Toji for the first time, she noticed that Satoru prepared more than he usually does.

At first, she thought it was just him getting more responsible. But when she saw that you came with your new boyfriend, she got a feeling that Satoru wanted to impress. She figured that it was because he wants his baby momma’s boyfriend to think highly of him and left it at that.

He’s been having mood swings but he’s also been getting more projects to work at so, it’s understandable. She also noticed how almost every movement of his daughter was documented and sent to you when she's with them. It was new because he rarely does it before. But she thought that it was only because your co-parenting plan was going better.

Everything that she notices about Satoru has valid reasons so, why is she feeling unsettled whenever the two of you would meet? It’s an unreasonable feeling because you’re already dating someone. There shouldn’t even be a single concern in her body.

Just a few weeks ago, his mother called her in the middle of the night, asking if Satoru was with him. When she said that she’ll call him to ask where he is, her mother quickly interrupted her, saying that he already replied that he was working overtime for a VIP client. She also said something about not interrupting him because the client’s a big person.

She still texted Satoru that night asking why he didn’t tell her about it. Satoru replied hours later, saying that it was an emergency project that needs to be discussed as soon as possible. After that, he sent another message with ‘I’m sorry.’

She came over the following night, intending to give him a soothing break. She prepared thoroughly during the day, wanting to please her boyfriend. Fatigue was obvious in his eyes when she arrived. Like he didn’t get an ounce of sleep.

“I’ll take that tiredness away, just relax in there.” She giggled, sensuously running down her fingers on his skin as she makes sure every physical contact they made was as soft as possible. She went down on him, watching him close his eyes as he grabbed her hair eliciting moans from her.

“Let’s do it without one,” She smiled, excited as she positioned herself on top of him, allowing him to feel her warmth as she pressed her chest against his. It was slow, passionate. He was so gentle with his touches and Naomi wanted to convince him to do it inside her so badly.

She was sure that all those perturbing thoughts of her would also be put to rest if that happens, she thought as she smiles, grinding onto him. But before she could get to that, he halted her, “Wait,” he spoke, reaching for the packet in his bedside cabinet.

Before she could even speak she was flipped over and it’s now Satoru on top. “I can take Plan B, just do it inside.” She bit her nail, giving him the eyes which only earned a smile, “Can never be too safe.” Not long after that, they both finished. Back then, he would agree to do it inside as long as she takes an emergency contraceptive after.

How come he wanted to be ‘too safe’ this time?

Her worries were put to rest for a little when he held her close when they came to get Yui. It also helped that you're still with your boyfriend. It only lasted for a bit until you had to pick Yui up on your own. Satoru found out that you were taking Yui out for an ice cream and the little girl asked him to come.

Naomi wanted to join; she was ready to dress up. But Satoru suggested that it should just be the middle day in your schedule, where the three of you would spend time together. It took everything in her not to frown in front of you. She felt rejected, she felt left out. The last straw was the talk she had with Satoru three days ago.

“What do you think about civil weddings?” She spoke to him, sitting on his lap as he watches T.V. “Huh?” He turned his attention to her, “Civil weddings. Maybe we could have it before the grand wedding, don’t you think?” She wiggles her brows at him, laughing as she daydreamed. Placing his hands on her waist, she kissed his lips softly.

“Or maybe we could put a bun in the oven first so, she’d be with us in wedding photos.” She whispered, half-joking. “Why are you dreaming? It’s still early.” Satoru laughed, taking his hand off of her to get the remote, switching between channels.

“I’m serious, though.” She pouted, hugging his neck. “Yeah, I know. But…It’s not in my plans, yet.” Her heart dropped at his words. She knows that he doesn’t mean it that way but it hurt her that after all the family talk and jokes he made with her, she’ll find out that it’s not even in his plans yet. Naomi wanted to cry, but instead, she got upset. She didn't let him know but she chose not to stay over at Satoru’s that night, claiming that she has paperwork. Before, he would persuade her to stay even if she has to do something.

How come he just kissed her goodbye this time?

It was tough on Naomi. Whenever she would ask Satoru about it, he said that he just got really busy with work. Even when he tells her that he loves her, she can say that he’s not even fully into it. And he doesn’t want to talk to you because she doesn’t want you to think that she’s accusing you when you got a whole new boyfriend.

Picking up her phone, Naomi decided that she just can't take the mystery anymore. “Hey, Mom. Are you free for lunch? I’d like to catch up.”

She just needs some advice. And she thinks that no one knows sons better than their mothers.

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v6quewrlds · 8 months ago

Text

❝ say my name, j. burrow. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: success is great until you realize that you haven't touched your fiance in nearly a month. feeling guilty about your absence, his new assistant's constant presence hits a nerve.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: game dey fic for good luck! i'm just gonna come clean and say that this picture inspired this entire thing. possessive joe we all say in unison. this was so fun to work on, thank you anon for the request <33 requests are still open!!

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: angst & smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, established relationship, jealousy, dom!joe, exhibitionism?, public sex, mirror sex?, size kink? size kink, cunnilingus bc joe burrow is an eater™, the tiniest baby hint of a breeding kink.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x fiancee!reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 6.8k.

The kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of the hanging lights hanging above the island, casting shadows that danced across the marble countertops as yourself, Joe, and your best friend, Tamara, sat around the kitchen table. The aroma of a quick meal filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of Joe's cologne and the sweetness of the boxed cake mix they had shared. Your dark hair was pulled back in a loose bun, your blowout beginning to curl up again. You and Tamara listening intently as Joe spoke of his assistant's impending departure. Your eyes, a deep shade of brown, drifted in and out of the conversation as you thought about the pile of work waiting for you at your office in downtown Cincinnati.

You just barely heard Tamara suggesting her cousin as a replacement. Tiffany, who was studying Marketing at the University of Cincinnati, had grown closer to her older cousin in her time in school despite the age difference between them. "She's been looking for an internship or something part-time," she said, hope sparkling in her voice. "It's tough out here, and she's really good with people."

Joe looked at you, who nodded in approval, half listening and trusting your best friend’s endorsement. "Send her my way, T," he said, smiling. "I'll set up an interview."

The following week was a blur of phone calls and emails as Joe prepared for the interview. Your schedule was packed with work, and Joe was buried in his season commitments. Your paths rarely crossed outside of brief moments at home, leaving your newly purchased house feeling more like a rest stop than a shared home.

When the day of Tiffany’s interview finally arrived, Joe was surprised by her poise and professionalism. She walked in dressed sharply, her confidence radiating in the room. Despite her youth, she spoke with the eloquence of someone who had been in the industry for years. Her references were impeccable, and her career goals were admirable. He had no doubts that she would be a valuable asset to his team.

You met Tiffany for the first time in the kitchen the morning after she started. The young woman's enthusiasm was palpable, but you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that there was something not quite right with her demeanor. Tiffany's eyes lingered on Joe a little too long for your liking, and her smile was a bit too wide when he spoke to her. You shook yourself out of her skepticism and chalked it up to nerves and excitement about the job. You had to admit, after all, that Tiffany was a breath of fresh air. She was excellent in keeping up with Joe’s schedules and appointments, helping to shoulder some of the burdens he dreaded about his career.

The next few weeks passed in a whirlwind of game days and late-night reheated dinners. Your business was thriving, and Joe's season was on an upward trajectory. Yet, amidst all the success, there was a worrying feeling that something was off-balance. Tiffany was always there, a constant presence that seemed to hover closer to Joe than necessary. You tried not to let it get to you, but you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy every time Joe laughed at one of Tiffany's jokes or thanked her for handling something simple so efficiently.

You stood over your side of your twin sinks, your coils pushed back from your forehead as you completed your skincare routine. You felt a gentle nudge as Joe leaned against you, his reflection in the mirror showing the exhaustion etched into his features. It was 10 PM, way past Joe's bedtime, but you appreciated the effort he was showing to take advantage of what little time you could spend together.

"So, I've got a dinner tomorrow," he began, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet bathroom. His strong arms wrapped warmly around your waist. "It's a sponsor thing. Nothing crazy, no cameras. Just dinner and a few schmoozes."

Your eyes met his in the mirror. "You want me to come?" You tried to keep the hope out of your voice, but it crept in regardless.

"Yeah. I know you've been slammed with work, but I'd love it if you could come. It's at the Kinley downtown. They have that amazing tiramisu you love." Joe's smile was boyish, and your heart melted at the thought of a rare date night.

The last time you two had been to the Kinley was the night of your engagement three months ago. That famous tiramisu had been delivered to your suite to accompany a bottle of champagne after the hotel manager heard the city's star quarterback was celebrating an accepted proposal. It had been a night filled with laughter and love, and you couldn't help but hope for a similar experience tomorrow.

"Okay, I'll come," you said, turning to kiss him. "But only for the tiramisu."

Joe chuckled and squeezed you tightly. "Whatever it takes to drag you outside with me." He kissed the top of your head before reaching for his toothbrush. "But promise me you'll wear that dress I like, the white one."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "The one that never makes it through the door before you're trying to get it off me? That one?"

Joe grinned, his teeth flashing in the bathroom light. "You know the one."

The morning light streamed through the blinds, creating a checkered pattern across your bed. Your eyes fluttered open, the promise of the dinner date lingering in your mind. You felt Joe's warmth beside you, his even breaths a comforting soundtrack to the start of your day. As you slipped out of bed and into the shower, you couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement for the evening ahead. Joe was gone from his side of the bed when you returned from her shower, his deep voice carrying from the kitchen as he laughed over the phone with Ja'Marr.

As you got dressed to leave for work, you heard the doorbell ring. You didn't expect anyone, but Joe's voice grew louder as he spoke to someone at the door. You made your way downstairs to find Tiffany, dressed in a sleek casual outfit, her hair slicked down perfectly.

"Morning, you two," she chirped, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Joe. You felt a flicker of irritation but pushed it aside.

"Hi, Tiffany," you said with a forced smile. "I can't believe your boss got you over here so early."

Tiffany's eyes darted to Joe before returning to you. "Oh, it's no trouble. I just wanted to make sure everything is set for tonight. Joe said I could tag along to the dinner. You know, for networking and all."

Your smile didn't falter, but your stomach did a flip. "Networking? At the Kinley? Downtown? Tonight?" You couldn't help the searing glare you shot towards Joe who remained wrapped up in his own little world. Completely oblivious to the dissatisfaction on your face.

You had to admit that you had hoped for a more intimate evening with Joe, but you had no desire to be rude. "That's a great opportunity, Tiffany. It'll be good to make some business connections in the city."

Joe looked between you, blissfully unaware of the tension between the two women. "You're right, babe. Tiffany's going to be graduating soon, and she needs all the help she can get." He gave you a kiss on the cheek, a hand reaching to cradle your waist. "Don't worry, I'll try to keep the business talk to a minimum."

You nodded, trying to keep your emotions in check. You didn't want to ruin your night with a petty argument about his assistant. After all, Joe had done so much to support you, especially with putting up with your late work hours recently.

Tiffany grimaced as Joe's hand lingered on your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. "Right," she murmured. "I'll just grab my laptop and get to work." She reached into her laptop bag, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance at her reaction. You had agreed to come to the dinner to support Joe, not to play chaperone.

The day passed slowly, a mix of business meetings and working through the massive to-do list from your secretary leaving you with little time to dwell on the evening's potential awkwardness. When you finally returned home to get ready, you found Joe in your closet, half dressed in a sharp suit that hugged his muscular frame. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, and you had to admit that you felt a spark of excitement at the prospect of a night out with him.

"Joe, did you think Tiffany's energy was off this morning?" You asked as you stepped into the walk-in closet to choose your outfit.

Joe looked up from his phone, presumably texting his stylist, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

You emerged from the closet wearing the white dress he had requested, your eyes meeting his in the floor-length mirror. "She just seemed... eager."

Joe shrugged, his tie now hanging loosely around his neck. "Eager to network, you mean? That's what she's here for, babe." You nodded, trying to convince yourself that your jealousy was unfounded. You reached up to do up Joe's tie for him, your hands trembling slightly. As you stepped back to admire your work, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"You look amazing," Joe whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His hand cupped your cheek, his blue eyes sweeping over your face. "You always do, beautiful."

You felt a warm blush creep up your neck. "Thank you, baby." You kissed him lightly, trying to ignore the voice in the back of your head that whispered about Tiffany.

The drive to the Kinley was filled with Joe's stories from practice and Tiffany's chirpy interjections about the inside jokes they built up over the weeks she had been working for him. You listened politely, but your mind was elsewhere, planning how you could make the most of this evening. You didn't want to spend the entire night watching Joe work the room with his assistant by his side.

Once you arrived at the luxurious hotel, the valet took Joe's car, and the three of you stepped into the bustling lobby. The air was filled with the sound of clinking glasses and laughter, a stark contrast to the quiet tension between yourself and Tiffany. You took a deep breath and slipped your hand into Joe's, reminding yourself that this was your night, despite the third wheel.

The dinner was a mix of business moguls and sports celebrities. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a friendly face. You spotted a few local influencers from your business’ social media following, but you were already engaged in your own conversations. The grand ballroom of the Kinley Hotel was a sea of unfamiliar faces, all dressed to the nines and seemingly at ease. The three of you made your way to the table reserved for Joe and his two guests.

Tiffany was already scanning the room, her eyes lighting up as she recognized a potential networking opportunity. "Oh, there's Dr. Simpson from the university," she exclaimed. "I've been dying to talk to him about an internship."

Joe nodded, his gaze following her as she gracefully excused herself. "Go for it," he encouraged, offering her a kind smile. "I'll grab us some drinks."

You watched Tiffany weave through the crowd, an eager bounce in her step. As Joe returned with an espresso martini for you and an iced tea for himself, you couldn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach. You took a sip of your drink, trying to push the negative thoughts aside.

The evening progressed with Joe being pulled into conversation after conversation, leaving you to sit alone at the table. You checked your phone for the millionth time, scrolling through social media to keep yourself entertained. You were in no mood to schmooze with influencers and their sugar daddies, your work had already left you with minimal energy. The chandeliers above cast a warm glow over the room, and the clinking of silverware against china filled the air. You felt out of place, a fish out of water.

Your eyes followed Joe as he charmed a table of investors with a story about a recent game-winning play. Tiffany hovered at his side, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she subtly touched his arm, prompting him with information or a well-placed joke. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you watched Joe's assistant monopolize his time.

A server approached with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, and you finally gathered the will to stand and mingle. You recognized a few faces from your own business circles, but the conversations felt forced, the words sticking in your throat as you tried to maintain a cheery facade. With each passing minute, your frustration grew. This wasn't the romantic evening you had hoped for; it was just another work function for Joe with an unwelcome plus-one.

Tiffany reappeared at Joe's side, her laugh a tinkling sound that seemed to carry across the room. You felt a twinge of annoyance at her ease, the way she moved with confidence and charm among these powerful individuals despite her lack of experience. You couldn't help but wonder if Joe had noticed the flirtatious glances she kept casting his way.

"Babe, you okay?" Joe asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder as he took a seat beside you. His brow was furrowed with concern, and for a moment, you felt guilty for your jealous thoughts. You forced a smile and nodded. "Just a little tired," you said, playing off your discomfort.

But Joe wasn't buying it. He leaned in close, whispering, "What's going on, sweetheart?" You took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne calming your nerves slightly.

"It's Tiffany," you confessed.

He frowned, glancing over at his assistant. "What about her?"

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, wanting to choose your words wisely. "It's just... she's all over you, Joe. And it's so fucking weird. She's supposed to be here for business, not to flirt."

Joe's eyes widened in surprise. "Flirt? She's not flirting with me." He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to where Tiffany was now engaged with a group of businessmen. "Babe, she's just doing her job. Networking."

You felt a spark of frustration at his dismissal. "It's more than that, Joe. I can feel it." You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice low and steady. "I don't want to ruin your night, but I can't ignore how uncomfortable this is making me."

Joe studied you for a moment, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. But before either of you could say anything else, Tiffany came gliding back over, a triumphant smile on her face. "Joe, I've got a meeting with Dr. Simpson next week. He's interested in discussing some marketing strategies for the university's athletic program. You're a genius for bringing me here!"

Her eyes flicked to you, who offered a tight smile in return. "Congratulations, Tiffany," you said through gritted teeth. "You're doing a fantastic job." The words were perfectly sweet, topped off with a gentle lilt as you stood up from your seat. Your hands smoothed over your dress before pushing the chair back in. "But if you'll excuse me..." you trailed off, making your way through the crowd of people without a backward glance.

Joe's hand reached out to grab yours as she passed, but you slipped away. He watched your retreating figure, the frown on his face deepening as he realized he had a situation to handle. "I'll be right back," he told Tiffany, who nodded, her eyes tracking your exit with an odd expression that was not lost on Joe.

He found you in the quiet hallway outside the ballroom, leaning against the wall, your eyes closed. "Hey," he said softly, approaching you. You didn't open your eyes, but you didn't flinch either, which was a bad sign.

"Hey," you murmured, your voice low and tired.

Joe stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "Babe, what's wrong? I don't like seeing you like this."

You took a deep breath, opening your eyes to meet Joe's concerned gaze. "It bothers me Joey, the way she acts around you is so fucking weird. And you're not even picking up on it." Your voice was laced with a hint of anger, but the exhaustion from your long day was clear.

Joe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about. If you're uncomfortable, I'll talk to her," he offered, his voice sincere. "But she's been nothing but professional with me, sweetheart."

You looked at him, your eyes squinting in disbelief. "Joe, she's been all over you since she started working for you. That’s not professional."

He frowned, clearly confused. "Babe, she's just trying to do her job. She's young, eager to impress. It's not what it seems."

You pulled your arm away, your voice rising slightly. "Why would she need to impress you by flirting with you? She's your assistant, not a contestant on a reality show."

Joe's expression darkened as he took in her tone. "Babe," he warned slowly. "You're being dramatic."

But you were beyond caring. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms with a huff, "Joe," you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and sadness. "You're so blind. She's obviously into you."

Joe's jaw tightened. "Look, if you need attention, I can give you attention." He offered his hand for you to take, his patience wearing thin.

You stepped back, the coldness in his voice cutting through the warmth of the room. "Is that what you think this is about? Attention?" You threw your hands up in frustration. "This isn't a game, Joe. This is our relationship!"

The music and laughter from the ballroom seemed to fade away as you faced each other, your words echoing in the quiet hallway. The silence between you seemed to stretch on for hours. Neither of you were willing to back down.

Finally Joe took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "I miss you." He hummed as a hand reached for your hip, pulling you closer to him. "It's been a month since we’ve done anything just the two of us."

Your eyes searched his, the frustration slowly melting away as you gave in. "I miss you too."

Joe's gaze softened, and he leaned in to kiss you. It was gentle at first, a sweet promise of comfort and reassurance, but it quickly grew into something more urgent. A month's worth of longing and tension poured into that kiss, and suddenly, the hallway didn't feel so cold anymore. Your knees practically buckled under his touch, his hands grasping at your curves with a hunger you missed so desperately.

"I need to feel you," he murmured against your lips, his hand sliding around your waist.

You felt a thrill run through you. You knew Joe wasn't the type to act on impulse like this, but you couldn't deny that a part of you craved this passion from him. You had been so busy, and this raw passion was a stark reminder of why you were together. You leaned into him, the heat from your bodies melding together.

"Baby, not here," you whispered, though your voice was laced with want. You didn't miss the twinkle in his eye as he glanced down the hallway.

"Come on, let's go somewhere private." He took your hand, leading you away from the ballroom's prying eyes. You stumbled into an empty bathroom, the door clicking shut behind them. The tension between the two of you crackled in the air as Joe's hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up. You gasped as his mouth found your neck, his kisses leaving a trail of heat.

In the dimly lit bathroom, your eyes locked in the mirror. The reflection showed a side of them that hadn't been seen in weeks—desperate and passionate. You gasped as Joe bent you over the counter, his hands roaming under your dress. The cool marble sent a shiver down your spine, but it was nothing compared to the heat between your legs. You didn't protest when he pulled your panties to the side, instead leaning into the sensation of his hand on your skin.

Joe's voice was a gruff whisper in your ear. "Do you want me to stop?" His thumb traced a tantalizing circle around your clit, and you bit back a moan.

"No," you breathed, your eyes fluttering shut. "Fuck me."

With a grunt, Joe complied, his hand moving away to unbuckle his pants. He was already hard, his cock pressing against your ass as he lined himself up. He slammed into you without much prep, and your moan echoed in the tiled room. You gripped the edge of the counter, your breath getting caught in your throat as he began to thrust into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with the distant laughter and clinking glasses from the dinner.

Your movements grew more erratic as you both gave into your desires. Your heels clicked against the marble floor with every thrust, the sound bouncing off the walls. Joe's grip tightened on your hips, his breath hot on your neck as he whispered dirty nothings that made your toes curl. It was a stark contrast to the elegant evening gown you wore, now hiked up around your waist, and the fancy hotel bathroom you found yourself in.

"Harder," you moaned, your voice thick with desire.

"Yeah?" Joe questioned, his grip tightened on your hips, his rhythm quickening as he drove into you. The bathroom's sterile scent was overpowered by your mingled perfume and the scent of your arousal. The world outside the bathroom door faded away, replaced by the symphony of your panting breaths and the wet slap of your bodies coming together.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, your eyes fluttering open to meet Joe's in the mirror. The sight of him, all muscular and intense, brought a new wave of arousal crashing over you. You felt the tension in your core tighten with every stroke, your body begging for release.

"I'm right here," Joe murmured, his voice a stark contrast to the urgent sounds of your lovemaking. His eyes held yours in the mirror, a silent promise that he heard you and that he cared. "You're all mine, baby. You're all I want. The only one."

You felt your body respond to his words, the tension coiling tighter, your orgasm approaching like a freight train. "Baby," you moaned, your nails digging into the counter. "I'm gonna come."

Joe's eyes darkened, and he thrust deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you. "Come for me, sweetheart," he urged, his own breathing ragged. "You wanted my attention? You got it. Right here, right now."

Your body obeyed, shuddering with pleasure as she climaxed, your inner walls clenching around him. He groaned, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. The sound of your passion bounced off the marble walls, echoing through the empty hallway outside. It was a reminder of the passion that still burned between the two of you, despite the distance your busy lives had created.

You both came down from your highs, your breathing slowly returning to normal as Joe held you against him, your hands resting against the cool bathroom sink. "I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your encounter.

Joe leaned in to kiss your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "Don't be. We both needed this." He pulled out of you gently, setting you upright to clean you up gently. You straightened out your clothes, trying to compose yourselves before returning to the dinner.

When you exited the bathroom, the tension between you had shifted. The awkwardness was gone, replaced with a newfound intimacy and understanding. You held hands as you walked back to the ballroom, your eyes meeting in a silent promise that you wouldn't let your busy lives come between you two again.

As you re-entered the buzzing room, the first person you saw was Tiffany, who was chatting with a group of people. Her eyes immediately darted to your joined hands and hazy eyes. You felt a smug satisfaction at the slight flicker of jealousy in the assistant's gaze. But you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on Joe and the rest of the night ahead of you.

Joe steered you to your table, and you noticed that the dinner had progressed to dessert without you. The other guests were engaged in lively conversations, oblivious to the passionate interlude the two of you had just shared. You couldn't help but feel a bit rebellious, a bit wild, knowing that while everyone else was munching on chocolate tiramisu, you had just been properly fucked by your fiancé in the bathroom.

You sat down and picked at your desserts, Joe occasionally squeezing your hand under the table. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of small talk and forced smiles, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Tiffany's eyes kept finding you, lingering a second too long on the lean into each other or the occasional kiss you shared.

As the dinner wound down and guests began to disperse, Joe leaned in, whispering, "Let's get out of here." The excitement in his voice was palpable, and you found yourself smiling genuinely for the first time that evening.

"What about Tiffany? She's not ready to leave," you whispered, glancing at Joe's assistant who was still deep in conversation.

"She's a big girl," Joe said with a firmness in his voice that made your stomach flutter. "We need some time alone."

"Joe," you warned, your voice a mix of amusement and concern. "You can't just leave her here."

He leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear. "Why not? She's a smart girl, she can handle herself."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smirk that played on your lips. "Fine. But you're telling her we're leaving."

Joe leaned back in his chair, his own smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "My pleasure." He stood, his movements graceful despite his towering height. He approached Tiffany, and you watched as he tapped her on the shoulder. The young assistant's smile faltered when she saw who it was, the new glow in his features unmistakeable.

"Tiffany, we're heading out," Joe said, his voice firm but not unkind. "I know you're not ready to leave yet. But when you are, just order an Uber. It's on me, you can Venmo me in the morning."

Tiffany's expression tightened, and she nodded, trying to play it cool, but the sting of being ditched was clear in her eyes. You felt a twinge of guilt, but you couldn't bring herself to care much. Like Joe said, she was a smart girl, and it didn't take much to see the sexual tension floating between an engaged couple.

The two of you made your way through the lobby, giggling to each other as you tried to slip out under the radar. An older man passed by, giving you a knowing smile. "Looks like the night's just getting started for you two," he said with a wink.

Joe's arm tightened around your waist as he replied, "You could say that," with a mischievous grin. "I'm taking my wife home." The man chuckled before continuing on his way, leaving you to your own devices.

"Wife? Already?" You teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I was promised another ring, Mr. Burrow.”

"Might as well get used to calling you that," Joe said, a hint of possessiveness in his tone that sent a thrill through you. “The ring will come in due time, Mrs. Burrow.”

You stepped outside into the cool Cincinnati evening, the sounds of the city muffled by the plush hotel lobby behind you. The valet pulled up with Joe's sleek black sports car, and you couldn't help but feel like a teenager again, sneaking out for a date with your forbidden boyfriend. You drove through the city streets, the tension in the car thick with unspoken words and lingering passion.

Back home, you didn't bother with small talk. The moment you were through the door, Joe scooped you into his arms and carried you upstairs in a bridal carry to your bedroom. Your kisses were deep, your touches exploratory, as if you were discovering each other all over again.

"Joseph," you scolded as he tossed you onto the plush king-sized bed, your bodies tangling together as he followed you down. His broader, more muscular body covered yours completely. Your heart swirled with arousal at the thought of him towering over you, claiming you as his wife as he did earlier.

He kissed you deeply, his hands exploring the curves of your body as if he hadn't touched you in years instead of just an hour. Your fingers danced over his chest, feeling the familiar strength beneath the fabric of his shirt, your desire for him growing with every beat of your heart.

"I think we have some unfinished business," Joe murmured against your neck, his voice deep and filled with desire as his hands continued to roam over your body. His mouth trailed hot kisses along your collarbone, making you arch into him with a gasp.

Your own hands found their way to his shirt buttons, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. As the fabric parted, you could see the outline of his muscles, the result of countless hours of training and hard work. You ran your fingertips over his chest, feeling his heart race beneath your touch. It was a powerful reminder that, despite his rigorous schedule, he was all yours.

"Open those pretty legs for me," Joe groaned, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, pushing your body up even further on the bed and tearing your panties away.

You eagerly complied, your heart pounding in anticipation as Joe's eyes darkened with lust. He kissed down your body, peppering your skin with kisses that left a trail of fire in their wake. When his mouth reached your pussy, you bucked your hips upward, desperate for his touch. His tongue slid along your slit, teasing your clit before delving deeper. Your moans grew louder, filling the quiet room, as he feasted on you, bringing you to the brink of another orgasm.

"Fuck, baby," you whispered as Joe's tongue swirled around your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You couldn't believe how much you needed this, how much you craved his touch after being entrenched in your busy life. Your body felt alive again, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as Joe worked his magic on you.

"Yes, Joe," you moaned, your hips rocking against his face as Joe's skilled mouth brought you closer to climax. You felt him smile against you, the movement sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. You were lost in the sensation, your body trembling as you reached for his hair, gripping the short strands in your fists.

"Yes, yes," you panted, your body writhing under Joe's relentless attention. His tongue was a masterful tool, bringing you closer and closer to the peak of pleasure. You could feel the tension building within you, your toes curling and your grip on his hair tightening as you approached your peak.

"I'm gonna come," you warned, your voice breathless. "Baby, please don't stop. I need you so bad."

Joe's only response was a low growl of approval, his mouth working faster as he felt your body tense beneath him. He knew you were close, he could taste it in the sweetness of your arousal. With one final, lingering lick, you shattered, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Joe looked up at you, his eyes gleaming with pride and lust as he watched you come apart in his arms.

You collapsed back onto the bed, panting and trembling, your eyes fluttering shut. Joe didn't waste any time, quickly shedding his own clothes before sliding between your legs. He positioned himself at your entrance, his cock thick and hard with desire.

"Look at you," Joe murmured, his voice thick with lust. His eyes traced the lines of your body, taking in every inch of you like it was the first time all over again. "So beautiful, all mine. Never seen anyone so fucking perfect."

You felt your body warm at his words, your eyes snapping open to meet his. "Joe," you whispered, your voice a plea for more as you felt him nudge against your entrance. He slid in slowly, filling you completely, making you gasp with the sudden fullness.

Your rhythm was slow at first, a gentle rocking that grew in intensity with every beat of your hearts. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back. Joe's eyes never left yours, the love and desire in his gaze setting you alight. You moved together in perfect harmony, your bodies speaking a language that only the two of you understood.

"Joey," you whispered, your voice strained with need as his hips rocked into you steadily. His thrusts grew stronger, more demanding. The bed beneath you creaked with the force of your passion, the only sound in the room your ragged breaths and the slick sounds of skin on skin.

Your voice cut off with a strangled moan as he hiked your thighs up higher. Your calves now rested on his broad shoulders, as your pelvises cushioned against each other.

“What is it baby?” Joe questioned softly against your parted lips, your breaths mingling together in whispers of moans. “You know I’d give you whatever you need. Just ask.”

"Tell me you love me," you breathed, your eyes locked on Joe's.

His pupils dilated, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I love you, beautiful. So fucking much," he growled, his voice a mix of passion and frustration at the same time. "You're mine, and I'm yours. No one else." His words were punctuated by his hips, driving into you with a ferocity that mirrored the emotions churning within you.

"Only yours," you repeated, your voice a breathy whisper as Joe's cock slammed into you, each stroke hitting a spot deep inside that sent you spiraling towards another climax. The words resonated within you, a departure from the insecurity that had plagued you earlier in the evening.

"Fuck, Joey," you moaned, feeling the pressure build inside you once again. Your nails dug into his back, urging him to go harder, faster. "Don't stop, baby, don't ever stop."

Your movements grew more frantic, the passion between you a live wire, sparking and crackling in the air. Joe's muscles bulged with effort as he drove into you, each stroke hitting deeper than the last. The room grew hazy with lust, the only reality the feel of your bodies joined together.

"I don't want you to ever doubt how much I love you," Joe said through gritted teeth, his eyes stuck on your pleasure-ridden face. He pushed into you, each thrust a declaration of his love and ownership. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you felt the familiar tightness begin to coil within you for the third time that night. "Not when I'm with you, not when I'm at work, not when I'm around anyone else."

Your lovemaking grew more intense with every word, each one a promise that resonated through your soul. The feeling of him inside you was more than just physical; it was a reaffirmation of your commitment, a reminder of your bond. Your nails raked down Joe's back, leaving a trail of red in their wake. Your legs tightened around him, pulling him closer, as if you could somehow fuse your bodies into one.

"I fuck you too hard?" Joe smirked, his voice strained as he felt your tight grip on him. He knew you were close, your breath hitching in your throat, your eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

"Too good?" He continued his relentless pace, his hips slapping against yours. You could only nod, your mouth forming a silent "yes" as you rode the wave of ecstasy. Your legs trembled around him, your body begging for more.

“Want me to fill you up, baby?” His mouth kept running as his voice became more strained with effort.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped out, your eyes flying open to meet Joe's intense gaze. You could feel your orgasm building, your muscles clenching around his cock. The way he filled you, the way he claimed you with every stroke, it was more than you could handle.

"How could you ever doubt me baby?" Joe whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he drove into you even deeper.

His lips found your neck, biting at the soft flesh and soothing the pain with the flick of his tongue until you were squirming beneath him. "How could you doubt me when this good cock is just for you, huh?"

Your eyes rolled back in your head as another orgasm ripped through you without warning, your body tightening around Joe's cock. He groaned, feeling your pussy pulse with pleasure as he picked up the pace, driving into you faster and harder. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, the bed shaking beneath you as you both gave yourselves over to the moment.

Joe felt his own release building, the pressure at the base of his spine growing with every stroke. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, your teeth clashing together as you lost yourselves together. He could feel your pussy clench around him, milking his cock, and with a struggle of a moan, he came, filling you with his warmth.

For a moment, you two lay there, panting and trembling, your hearts racing. Then Joe pulled out of you, collapsing beside you on the bed. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as you both fought to catch your breaths. You felt his heart thud against your chest, the steady beat a reassurance of his love and commitment.

"You're so fucking beautiful when you come," Joe murmured, his voice still thick with desire as he kissed the side of your neck. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the aftermath of your lovemaking.

Moments later, you leaned back into his broad chest as you soaked in the warm water of your bathtub. Your bodies tangled together, the only sound your ragged breaths and the occasional whisper of love and reassurance. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a comfort and closeness that you hadn't felt in weeks. You knew your schedules were hectic, but moments like these reminded you why you had agreed to marry Joe in the first place.

"You know I don't doubt you, Joe," you murmured against his shoulder, your voice sleepy with satisfaction. "Tiffany's behavior today was weird. And I felt guilty about my feelings and I took it out on you."

Joe sighed, his arms tightening around you. "I’m sorry we’ve been so distant, baby. I'll talk to her. I hated seeing you so upset." He kissed the top of your head.

"Thank you," you mumbled, snuggling closer to him. Despite your exhaustion, you knew that talking about Tiffany had brought the issue back to the surface. But Joe's embrace made you feel safe, and you allowed yourself to relax into the comfort of his arms.

"It's not just her," Joe began, his voice serious. "I know I've been distant, with the season and everything. But you're my priority, always." His fingers traced lingering patterns into your ribcage under the water. "I don't want anything to come between us."

Your heart swelled at his words, his voice devoid of any sign of doubt. "I know you don't," you said softly. "We'll do better, baby. I know we can."

Joe nodded, a serious look crossing his features. "We will. I promise." He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. The silence was a welcome comfort, the weight of your promises lingering in the air.

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