#k. ly r

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i gotta keep it a buck this is like top five charles panels to me cause all i can imagine is him doing 100 in a 40 zone

[Sins of Sinister: Dominion]

[oceanwithouthermoon]

THE FACT THAT THE ONLY INSULT SHE COULD THINK OF FOR HIM WAS THAT HES QUIET AND GLOOMY, AND SHE HAD TO LIE ABOUT THE REST OF IT..

[pastelaspirations]

So, this isn't sponsored or anything, but I just wanted to say it I guess.

Sonic 3 genuinely helped me with my grief.

Just. Spoilers for those that did not see it, but. M a n. The parallels between Shadow losing Maria and me losing Loki, it just... it h u r t. Sonic telling him while they're looking at the stars that even though Maria is gone, the love Shadow feels for her isn't.

And m a n, like. It's true. I think this movie hit me way harder since I waited until after I lost my dog to see it. I had tears in my eyes watching that scene because it was so true and it hurt so much. I felt so seen.

Even though Loki is gone, my love for him isn't. Loki's light, his memory, can continue to shine on in me. My love for him is what is keeping his light still shining.

Like. Can you understand how insane this is. What a timeline we are living in. That Sonic 3. Freaking Sonic 3. Genuinely helped me with my grief and made me feel seen.

Anyway. The movie is actually peak cinema. 10/10, I had a blast. It was a super funny movie full of moments actually catered to Sonic fans with shockingly poignant and heartfelt moments. Go watch it if you haven't.

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[astronomicaltaxon]

bro ur freaking out the hoes(decapitated head of my boyfriend)

[mqonlighting]

real talk in the tags for a second because i have a crush on a girl and i. a hehe. ahehehe.

will be burying this in reblogs and never touching on it again

[gurorori]

introject hours tbh.

it ok 2 b attached 2 yr source.. it don necessarily make the connection 'unhealthy' or 'anti-recovery', regardless if ya knew of da introjection immediately or later on. it ok 2 b comforted by yr source. it ok 2 have any specific feelings, positive or negative or neutral, ab yr source.

i think a lotta different ppl have different polarised preconceived notions of wat an introject (n i aint jus talkin ab fictional ones here btw) shud b like & how we shud behave 2 b considered a Correct kind. well. fuck dat

it is a unique experience 4 everyone & we get 2 decide our relationship with our source on our own actually.

[camcorderotic]

I remember the first time he raped me…

we’d just started hooking up,

I was so tired, and had so much in my system by the time anything happened he thought I was unconscious (I mostly was), n i couldn’t have even done anything about it by that point if i was fully awake

it’s still fuzzy, but i remember him trying to wake me first, then slipped his hands into my shirt to touch me- his fingers were so cold they were warm by the time he spread my legs n put them in me

he spent a long time getting me all worked up, using his tongue his freakishly long tongue hhh. then his cock was in my mouth all i can remember is the taste and the little sounds he was making called me a good boy :)

he held me close and kissed me all over while he raped me, made sure even if i was asleep i knew how wet i was, how good i was being for him

nothing will ever make me feel as loved as i do when he rapes me <3

[heyitslapis]

what fucking makes me want o rip my hair out when it comes to the security guy at work is that i'll even try to COMMUNICATE WITH HIM!!!!! (i know for people like us communication can be difficult & we often need specific clear wording and even then we have layers to peel back) When i cant tell if he's being sarcastic, i'll ask him genuinely, because as ive told him multiple times before the way he says things it literally cannot be interpreted as a joke (even neurotypicals at work have agreed with me in front of him) and always seems like he's being serious. i tell him this all the time and he acts like its fucking funny that im genuinely mad about the fact that he wont communicate back with me. Verbatim i have told him on multiple occasions "i genuinely cant tell when youre being sarcastic or making a joke because your tone is so flat and your face is so serious and deadpan and usually people will laugh or crack a smile a few seconds after the joke but you just stand there not expressing anything, even after i ask if its a joke because i genuinely cant tell"

YET HE CONTINUES TO FUCKING DO IT and then has the fucking GALL to laugh at me or call me gullible or naive when IM LITERALLY TRYING TO COMMUNICATE!!! bitch how tf am i supposed to know whats a joke and whats real when you act like im asking a fucking statue every time you say a lie or joke

[dakusan]

S K Z R e a c t i n g t o a P o s i t i v e P r e g n a n c y T e s t

stray kids ot8 x reader | two pink lines, eight breakdowns, one very lucky uterus.

🍼 synopsis: You didn’t plan this. Not the moment, not the timing, not the trembling plastic test that changed your life in a heartbeat. But one by one, you tell them. One by one, you hold out that tiny white stick with two pink lines. And one by one—each of them breaks open. Sometimes, two lines is all it takes to rewrite everything. And sometimes, everything sounds a lot like: “You’re having my baby?”

💌 a/n: To the anon who sent this prompt: I HOPE YOUR PILLOWS ARE COLD AND YOUR WIFI NEVER LAGS. You gave me eight men and said “make them react to a pregnancy test 🥺👉👈” and I said BET. AND THEN THEY DID. THEY REACTED. THEY BROKE DOWN. THEY GOT ON THEIR KNEES. THEY CRIED ON BATHROOM FLOORS. THEY STARTED PRENATAL POWER SNACK PREP. this was so cute you now owe me therapy. p.s. reblog for clear skin and an emotionally available babydaddy. p.p.s. if Chan on his knees didn’t ruin you emotionally, you’re lying. p.p.p.s. somebody please make fanart of Dori in a bib that says “Hyung.”

📍credits: @cafekitsune , @thecutestgrotto for the dividers

🎧 » Hug Me — I.N « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:00 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Bang Chan

You didn’t plan to tell him like this.

You had wanted to wait. Set up something quiet and sweet. A note, maybe. Or a mug with #1 Appa written on it. Something he could hold in his hands while you stood across the room, heart pounding.

But life has never followed your plans when it comes to Bang Chan. It has always moved faster, deeper, louder.

Like tonight. When you called his name from the bathroom with something trembling in your fingers. A white stick. A faint second line. And all the blood draining from your face.

Chan enters the room in sleep pants and a hoodie, half-damp hair from the shower. He blinks at you—then the test in your hand—and in a moment, all air disappears from his lungs.

“What…?”

You pass it to him wordlessly, heart in your throat.

His fingers shake as he takes it. Looks down.

Silence.

You try to prepare for anything. Shock. Denial. Fear.

But what you get is breathless awe.

“…It’s real?”

You nod. You think.

“I mean—I took another one. And I’ll take more. I don’t know how accurate they are this early—”

But Chan’s already across the space between you, wrapping his arms around you so tight, so careful, so anchored you forget how to speak.

“You’re really having my baby,” he breathes into your hair. “You’re really—” He laughs, and the sound cracks. Then again, softer. Wet. “I love you. I love you so much. I swear I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna take such good care of both of you.”

He drops to his knees. Presses his cheek to your stomach even though there’s nothing to see yet.

Just skin. Just potential. Just a future that’s suddenly real.

“Hi, little one,” he whispers. “It’s Appa. We haven’t met yet, but you’re gonna be so loved, okay? We’ve got you.”

You run your fingers through his curls and feel him kiss you gently—reverently—through the fabric of your shirt. Everything around you fades, every fear fades, except him.

Because this man? He was born to love like this.

Lee Minho

It’s 8:17 PM on a Sunday.

Minho is sprawled on the couch in sweatpants and a wrinkled shirt he’s been wearing since last night, a half-finished plate of tteokbokki on the coffee table, and three cats currently fighting for ownership of his chest. Soonie’s curled up against his ribs. Doongie’s nestled by his knee. Dori is actively trying to sit on his face.

It’s domestic bliss in its purest form—until you walk in holding a tiny plastic stick with two pink lines.

“Babe?” you say softly.

He looks up, squinting. Dori meows, offended at being jostled.

Minho blinks once. Then again. “What’s that?”

You bite your lip and hold it out. “I think… we’re gonna need more than three bowls soon.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Soonie sneezes. Doongie flops over dramatically. Minho doesn’t move.

Then—

“…No way.”

His voice is low. Disbelieving. He slowly sits up, cats scattering. He takes the test like it might dissolve in his hands.

“Wait, wait—two lines means…”

You nod. He stares.

“You’re pregnant.”

Another nod. You’re suddenly very aware of your own heartbeat.

Minho exhales. Long. Sharp. Then he turns and stares at the cats. “You three are about to be older siblings,” he tells them. Dori blinks. Then he looks at you again. His eyes are wide, but soft. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Like really serious.”

“Yes, Minho.”

He crosses the room and pulls you into his arms without another word. Just wraps you up, tight and warm, chin tucked over your shoulder. You can feel how fast his heart is beating.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbles.

“You’ll be amazing,” you whisper back. “You take care of all of us already.”

He pulls back just enough to look at your stomach. “You’ve been feeding me double portions all week. You were preparing.”

You laugh through the tears. “You think I planned this?”

“No,” he says, grinning now. “But I’m glad it’s you. And me. And—”

His hand brushes gently over your lower belly. “And whoever you are in there.”

Behind you, there’s a crash. You both turn to find Doongie knocking over the tteokbokki, Soonie sniffing it, and Dori sitting proudly in the bowl.

Minho sighs. “We need to teach them boundaries before the baby gets here.”

You’re still laughing when he kisses your temple.

Seo Changbin

You don’t plan some Pinterest-worthy reveal. No onesies in gift boxes. No custom cookies that say ‘bun in the oven.’

You just... panic-laugh and blurt it out at the worst possible moment. Which, in this case, is: right as Changbin is taking the world’s biggest bite of a protein bar post-leg day.

“I’m pregnant,” you say.

He chokes. Literally. Gags, coughs, eyes watering as he grabs a water bottle and downs half of it in three seconds. You reach out to thump his back, but he waves you off—one hand in the air like he needs to process the universe first.

“Wait,” he rasps. “Wait. What?”

You just hold up the test.

His jaw drops. Like, drops.

“THAT’S A PREGNANCY TEST.”

You nod.

“AND IT’S—TWO LINES—TWO—” He counts them out on his fingers just to be sure. “That means positive, right? POSITIVE like YES, not positive like ‘good vibes’ positive?”

You nod again, nearly in tears now from how panicked and adorable he looks.

Then there’s a beat. A shift. His entire face changes.

“…You’re really having my baby?” Soft. Quiet. Disbelieving. He steps forward slowly, like you might vanish.

You nod again, biting your lip. “Yeah. I am.”

And then he just—melts.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” he says, dazed. “I’m gonna be a DAD. Like—little shoes. Little clothes. Little you. With like—tiny arms. And maybe your nose. Oh my god.”

You blink, and he’s hugging you like he’s trying to shield you from the whole world. Then pulling back, both hands cupping your cheeks.

“I’m so fucking happy,” he breathes. “Like, terrified—but also really happy. Are you okay? Do you need water? Snacks? Protein? Oh my god, you need protein. You’re literally building a person.”

You laugh. “I don’t think the baby needs whey powder, Binnie.”

“You never know!” he yells toward the kitchen. “Fetus needs gains!”

Then he runs off to make a “power snack” for you and your microscopic baby, while mumbling, “I need to call my mom—no, wait, I need to learn how to swaddle—what the hell is swaddling—”

You lean against the wall, stomach fluttering, and smile so wide your cheeks ache. You’re about to have a baby. And that baby’s father? Is Seo Changbin.

Loud, loyal, chaotic, golden-hearted Seo Changbin. And that means everything’s going to be okay.

Hwang Hyunjin

It happens on a quiet morning.

The sun is creeping in through the curtains, golden and warm. You’re in one of his oversized shirts, curled on the couch with your knees pulled to your chest. The test sits on the coffee table, face-up. Positive. Blunt and unreal.

Hyunjin is in the kitchen humming something, probably working on a smoothie with way too much honey.

You don't say anything. You just… Wait. And when he wanders in with the drink, barefaced and sleepy-eyed, he sees you staring at the test. Then follows your gaze.

Then—stops breathing. “What… is that?”

You blink up at him. “Baby,” you say. “I think I’m pregnant.”

The smoothie hits the floor. He doesn't even flinch. Just stares at the test like it's glowing. “No way,” he whispers. Then again, like he’s in a dream: “No way.”

You nod. Careful. Soft.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Grabs both your hands. “You’re not kidding?” he asks. “You’re not—like, this isn’t a dream or some surreal performance art you’ve constructed to test my emotional range?”

You giggle through the nerves. “It’s real, Jinnie.”

And then—oh, the eyes. Big and glassy and full of awe. He gently presses his hands to your stomach, even though there’s nothing visible yet.

“You’re carrying something made of us?” he says, like he’s tasting every word.

You nod. And he starts to cry. Not loud or messy. Just that beautiful, quiet unravelling he does when his heart gets too full. His forehead presses to your belly. His voice breaks. “I already love them so much,” he whispers. “And you. You—God, you’re going to be the most beautiful mother. I’m going to paint you. Every day. You’ll hate it, but I’ll do it anyway.”

You laugh and pull him close. “I’m scared,” you admit softly.

“I know,” he says, cupping your face, brushing his thumb under your eye. “Me too. But we’ll make something beautiful. We already are.”

Behind him, the smoothie seeps into the floorboards. He doesn’t notice. He’s too busy falling in love all over again.

Han JIsung

You make the mistake of showing him the pregnancy test in the middle of a Mario Kart match.

You were trying to wait until the end. But you couldn’t. The plastic stick in your hoodie pocket felt like it was burning a hole through your skin. So you pause the game. Turn to him on the couch. And say: “Ji… I’m pregnant.”

His character flies off Rainbow Road. He doesn’t even flinch.

You hold out the test. He squints at it like you’ve handed him alien technology. Then looks at you. Then back at the test. “…Wait,” he says. “Waitwaitwaitwait. WAIT. Like—pregnant pregnant?? Like—not the fake TikTok prank kind? Not the 'ha-ha, gotcha,’ kind???”

“Pregnant pregnant,” you say gently. “No ha-ha.”

Silence.

Then: Han Jisung.exe has stopped working. He sits completely still. Eyes wide. Hands frozen in place.

You can see the thoughts ping-ponging through his brain at lightning speed. Baby? Dad? Bottles? Diapers? Are we ready? Oh my god—tiny socks—oh my god—do babies even like me—Then—

“I NEED TO CALL MY MOM.”

You grab his arm. “Ji—”

“No no no wait, I need to call your mom too. I need to call the hospital. Do we need to buy a crib? I need a book. I need—”

“Ji—breathe.”

He finally looks at you. Really looks. And you watch the panic melt into something quieter. More real. “You’re serious?” he whispers.

You nod. “Yeah. I took three tests. All the same.”

He just… folds. Lets out the softest, shakiest breath. “I’m gonna be a dad,” he says, almost reverently. “I’m gonna have a little person who’s half you. Who might have your nose. Or your laugh. Or your attitude—God help me—”

You snort, already teary-eyed. “We’re doomed.”

But then he’s holding you. Pulling you close. Rocking gently on the couch with his face buried in your neck. “I’m so happy,” he mumbles. “So fucking happy. I just—I don’t know if I’ll be good at it, but I’m gonna try so hard. Like, Olympic-level try. Like, gold medal in dad-ing.”

You smile into his hair. “You’ll be the best,” you whisper. “Because it’s you.”

And while the softness surrounds both of you, his poor Mario Kart character is still falling off Rainbow Road.

Lee Felix

He’s lying in bed next to you, all warm freckles and sleepy smiles, arms slung lazily over your waist while some random YouTube video plays in the background.

You’ve been quiet for the last ten minutes. Too quiet.

He shifts. “You okay, angel?”

You glance down at the white stick hidden in the blanket fold between you. Your fingers tremble. Then you blurt it out. “Lix. I think I’m pregnant.”

He blinks. Then blinks again.

“Like… right now?”

You nod.

“Right now now?”

You nod again and hold out the test.

He stares.

“…That’s the kind with the lines, right? Like the ones in movies?”

You laugh. It sounds watery.

“Two lines means yes,” you whisper. “It means we’re—”

Before you can finish the sentence, he’s already sitting up. Fully. Completely. Alert like someone just hit a giant red “you’re about to be a father” button in his brain. “There’s a baby… in there?” He looks down at your belly with eyes so wide they practically sparkle. “Right now? Like—ours?”

You nod again, tearful now.

And he immediately buries his face against your stomach and starts whispering in that low, raspy voice of his. “Hi, little bean. It’s Appa. Or Daddy. We haven’t figured that out yet. But I love you. So much. I haven’t even seen you, and I love you more than anything.”

You start crying for real then. Because of course you do.

Felix pulls himself up to kiss you—everywhere. Forehead, cheeks, lips, nose. All of it soft and gentle, like you’re made of something sacred now. “You’re amazing,” he murmurs. “You’re magic. You’re literally building a person, babe. Like, with your body. That’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You laugh, wiping at your eyes. “What if I get weird cravings turn into a hormonal mess?”

“I will feed you whatever you want,” he promises. “Even if it’s pickles dipped in chocolate and shame. I will oil your belly every night. I will write bedtime songs for the baby starting tonight.”

And then, softer, reverent: “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

You melt into him, into this freckled sunshine that keeps holding your belly like something sacred. And at the same time, all you can think about is that this baby will grow up wrapped in sunshine.

Kim Seungmin

You find him in the kitchen making coffee.

He’s in his weekend hoodie, hair messy, muttering under his breath about how someone (you) finished the oat milk and put the empty carton back in the fridge. Classic Seungmin domesticity.

You hesitate in the doorway. Then: “Hey. I need to tell you something.”

He turns, brow raised. “If it’s about the milk—”

You pull the test out of your pocket and hold it up.

He goes quiet. Completely still. “…What’s that?”

You bite your lip. “It’s… a pregnancy test. It’s positive.”

Seungmin blinks. Twice. His eyes flick from your face to the stick and back again. Then: “Okay,” he says.

Just that. No gasp. No dropped mug. No dramatic reaction.

You stare at him. “Okay?”

He crosses the room. Slowly. Carefully and takes the test from your hand, studies it in total silence. You expect a thousand things. A lecture. A long pause. Maybe even dry sarcasm to ease the tension.

But what you don’t expect… Is the way his voice breaks.

“Is this real?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

You nod, tearfully. “Yeah. It’s real.”

He just stands there, the weight of it sinking in. Then he looks up at you with glassy eyes, and your heart cracks wide open. “I didn’t know I could love anything more than I love you,” he says, voice shaking. “But I think I already do.” That’s when he pulls you into him. Not tight—careful. Like you’re suddenly made of something priceless. One hand ghosts over your stomach. The other wraps around your back.

“I’m gonna be so annoying,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m gonna track every symptom. I’m gonna argue with every doctor. I’m gonna ask a thousand questions until I know exactly how to keep you safe.”

You laugh through your tears. “That sounds about right.”

“I’m not even sorry,” he mutters. “You’re mine. So is the baby. I don’t take chances with the things I love.”

And then he says it. For the first time, out loud. With a quiet breath of wonder: “We’re going to be parents.”

Yang Jeongin

You don’t even mean to tell him today.

You were going to wait. Let it sink in first. Get a doctor’s confirmation. Maybe wrap a tiny baby onesie in a box and watch him open it on camera so you could save the reaction forever.

But he comes home early.

And finds you on the bathroom floor, holding the test in your hand, eyes puffy like you’ve already cried yourself through six different emotional stages.

“Babe?”

You jump. Try to shove the test behind your back like a kid caught stealing cookies.

Too late.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping in, voice instantly soft. Concerned. “Are you sick? Did something happen—?”

You don’t answer. Just… hand him the stick with shaking fingers. He takes it. Looks at it. And then freezes. Like actually freezes. Like, cartoon buffering wheel spinning behind his eyes.

“…This is… is this what I think it is?” he asks.

You nod.

He blinks. “…Are you—?”

You nod again. “Yeah.”

Silence.

“…Like, really really?”

You sniffle. “Yeah, Innie. Really really.”

There’s a pause. A long one.

Then—

He sits down on the floor beside you. Cross-legged. Like you’re on a picnic instead of in a panic.

And he lets out a breath that sounds like everything.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I have no idea what I’m doing. Like, actually zero. I’ve never held a baby. I don’t know how to burp them. I’ve never even changed a diaper. I’m scared out of my mind.”

You nod, already crying again.

“But,” he continues, looking at you now—eyes wide and watery and so full of love—“I want this. I want to learn. I want to do it with you. I want to hold their hand the first time they walk. And cry like a loser when they call me Appa. And panic over every little fever and then call my hyungs crying in the group chat. I want to do it all—with you.”

He cups your face in both hands, gentle and grounding.

“You’re gonna be such a good mom,” he says. “And I’m gonna be annoying and awkward and scared but I’m gonna love you both so much you’ll get sick of me.”

You laugh, hiccuping. “Never.”

“I’ll try anyway.”

Then he kisses you. Sweet, gentle, shaky. His hands tremble a little against your cheeks. When you finally pull apart, he grins, eyes still wet.

“Guess I'm not the maknae anymore,” he says softly, resting his hand on your stomach. “Someone’s coming for my crown.”

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 19

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, rafe refusing to refer to them cuddling as cuddling, fluff, rafe crashing out internally and also externally (standard cw atp), ANGST, mention of coke usage, rafe on coke, ruthie :)))), rafe having violent thoughts, hints at platonic rafe x kiara, verbal tension/major argument, minor violence (punch to the face), again ANGST and kindaaa s2!rafe vibes at the end (and ig some hints at bpd)

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ you updated cara after waking up (who had spent the night with jj) and she freaked out over everything, insisting that rafe liked you more than you thought, but you said you'd rather play it safe. you and rafe texted a bit. he immediately got riled up about you being in the pogue girls’ group chat, but you reassured him. he also got a bit too comfortable with his flirty pics and wording. cara ditched topper’s ride and chose to drive with john b. at lunch, your parents voiced concern over rafe’s well-being, given ward’s difficult nature. you stuided the afternoon for tomorrow’s math test. after a quick outfit check with the girls, you were picked up at 7. in the car, topper sulked about cara; molly and kelce seemed even closer. at the open air parking lot, you and rafe complimented each other. he was surprisingly gentlemanly, paying for your ticket, coat check, and snacks. after a brief chat with cara and jj, you felt a small pang of jealousy when rafe commented on cara’s nipple piercings. kelce and molly had reserved you and rafe a lounge bed next to them, which made you panic a bit. rafe seemed disappointed and hurt by your distant behavior, but you pulled yourself together and even excused your anxiety to which he reacted surprisingly sweet. a slightly awkward moment arose when he got a boner (probably bc of you) which you managed to defuse by joking around about your teacher’s buttcrack. as it got colder, you hesitantly scooted closer to rafe under the blanket. you lay really close and eventually worked up the courage to fully cuddle with him, pushing aside your fear of rejection. rafe even put your pillow away so it was just the two of you close together. deep down, it started to feel like this maybe meant more than just a newfound friendship.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 15.2k+ (SO SORRY)

✿ A / N ✿ um, yeah. not much to say about this other than AHHHHHHHH. sorry this is so long, i heavily debated if i should cut it before the last scene but i didn't wanna keep you guys on edge for no reason so guess you gotta eat all that shit up. also, hahahah, LOTS of back-and-forth but i HOPE you guys will enjoy the direction i decided to go with (especially bc i'm so anxious about the new problem i'm introducing) and PLS lmk what you think <3 ᓚᘏᗢ

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W E E K O N E // S U N D A Y 8 : 0 0 P M

Rafe had stopped counting how many times he’d questioned his sanity this week. The tenth, fourteenth, fiftieth, shit, probably the thousandth time.

With this moment right now? Probably the 1001st.

Because if some asshole had told him at the beginning of the week that seven days later he’d be lying on some stupid shitty lounge bed with some completely random girl back at the time, at some stupid shitty open-air event, watching fucking Barbie with a bunch of stupid shitty people, while you clung to him like a goddamn baby koala—Rafe would’ve beat the fucker right the fuck up.

After that, he probably would’ve done a fat line of coke just because hearing some dumb shit like that required it on principle, and then he’d have gone on with his life.

But now? He probably wouldn’t even beat up that bum Rob. Shit, not even fucker Chris, even if that asshole stood right in front of him talking some bullshit. Because that would mean Rafe had to get up. And that, in turn, would mean he’d have to let go of you.

Of you. Your warm body half-hugging his, your right hand resting comfortably on his upper stomach—a gesture that somehow irritated and grounded him all at once—your head that seemed to fit perfectly on the side of his chest, and fucking hell, your addicting scent mixed with the perfume you wore that was driving him absolutely crazy.

Rafe felt so at ease with you here. The lack of tension, the missing irritation that usually ran through his whole body, confused the absolute fuck out of him.

He didn’t fucking understand why he liked the way you clung to him. Why this felt like doing four lines in a row. Why this absolutely absurd position you two were in had his pulse racing. Why it made his blood rush, his nerves buzz, and his adrenaline shoot through his veins like going 140 mph down the highway with a line in his system.

And what confused him the most—what made him question absolutely everything he’d ever stood for—was why he even allowed it.

Why the actual fuck was Rafe letting some random girl get this close to him—in public, no less—where every shitty bastard and gossip bitch could see? And fucking Kelce, barely a meter away on top of it.

It made no fucking goddamn sense why this felt… normal.

As normal as paying for your ticket and snacks because Rafe had already been in line anyway and it’s not like he was hurting for cash, so he might as well save time and pay for yours too.

And for some fucked up reason, Rafe actually enjoyed doing it.

Why? He had no fucking clue. Most chicks he’d hooked up with expected him to buy them drinks, gifts, dinner, or pay for their nails or whatever the fuck. Like, did he look like a goddamn charity case to them?

But you? You even wanted to pay for yourself, which, as a matter of fact, just made him want to pay for you all the more, just out of fucking principle. No fucking way was Rafe letting himself get turned down.

Shit, seriously, since when had he started chasing after a girl?

But honestly, he didn’t even give a fuck anymore.

He’d already stopped fighting this feeling on Friday night. Because this pull he felt toward you? Simple explanation: you were a very cute girl with a pretty face that drove him absolutely fucking insane with your fucked-up brain—and somehow, Rafe liked that.

He fucked with it.

You being a little nuts, the way you always pissed him off, your weirdness, and the insane shit that ran through your head nonstop. It was like having the human version of Rick and Morty around—deranged, cracked out, and somehow still annoyingly enjoyable. Especially because you weren’t predictable.

As much as that pissed him off as well, he also liked how your reactions always surprised him. You weren’t boring.

Sometimes you were awkward and nervous for no fucking reason, just like earlier when you two had waited in line for snacks. Like what the actual fuck was that? Sometimes you snapped back like your life depended on it, like yesterday, during that stupid argument about you hanging out with Sarah. And sometimes, you even flirted the fuck back—like holy shit, did you actually have a split personality or some shit?

Then again, Rafe wasn’t entirely sure if you were flirting, or just being nice whenever you complimented his looks or had that teasing little twinkle in your eyes.

Nah. You flirting? You always looked like you were about to have a mental breakdown whenever Rafe flirted.

So, you were probably just on that sweet polite girl shit.

Shit. Why was this even taking up space in his head? See what you were doing to him? Your fucking overthinking whatever-the-fuck was rubbing off on him.

NAH, what the fuck was he even thinking? That wasn’t overthinking. Rafe was just following his thoughts a little further than usual.

He wasn’t you. He didn’t have a fucking army of little shitty-ass asshole minions in his head constantly talking shit and running around setting his brain on fire.

…Shit.

Rafe hadn’t even noticed his left hand playing with that stupid crappy bracelet on your wrist, fingers brushing over the little childish charms dangling from it. He couldn’t help it. Somehow, it scratched his brain just right.

And you actually wearing that four-dollar gas station horse-themed friendship bracelet? Stupidly hilarious. But for some goddamn reason, the fact that you wore it filled him with this weird sense of pride (the fuck) and excitement (even bigger the fuck) because you deciding to wear something he had given you? Sure. If you wanted to show off your new possession, Rafe wasn’t gonna stop you.

And as a matter of fact, you weren’t stopping him either from touching that cursed thing in the first place (Shit, why the fuck was he still messing with it?).

Oh! Speaking of touching things he probably shouldn’t be touching.

His right hand, which was resting very comfortably on your blanket-covered waist? The fact you hadn’t stopped him from doing that either really confused the fuck out of him.

Shit, the fact that you’d even initiated this whole laying-on-him-and-clinging-to-him thing in the first place? What the actual fuck. Like Rafe definitely wasn’t complaining about a cute girl like you holding onto him, but seriously—what. You making some kind of move or whatever the hell this was supposed to be? That was the craziest part of tonight.

Sure, it was also fucking insane how hot you looked in that sweet little dress of yours, or how he’d actually fucking gotten bricked up earlier when the same dress had ridden up your thighs, because that had immediately triggered a whole chain reaction of images (which—you reacting that chill about it? Fucking unreal), or the fact that right now he had to hold himself back so badly from not letting his hand wander lower because of the curve of your ass under the blanket?

Shit was driving him absolutely crazy to the point he had to pull up that cursed image you’d burned into his mind of Mr. Martin’s hairy caterpillar-ass or him in a goddamn tankini.

Like, hell no. Fuck you and bless you at the same time for that.

So Rafe kept his hand on your waist, fingers lightly drumming out a rhythm, because honestly? You’d probably freak out—well, the minions in your head would—if that hand actually wandered. And also, he didn’t wanna look like a damn liar because just yesterday he’d made it very clear (again...) that he wasn’t some perv trying to get into your pants.

Okay yeah, he wanted to bend you over, press your face into some sheets, hear those sweet little noises from your lips and—fuck, that wasn’t the point, alright? Just last night, he gave you some physical proof that he’d accepted your weird-ass conclusion that he wanted to be your friend (mainly because you practically forced him into it and, well, he kinda liked you but that also wasn’t the point either, okay?).

So yeah, Rafe definitely wasn’t about to scare you off by making a move that would have you backing away like some scared stray cat.

THEN AGAIN, why the hell had you initiated this, if you supposedly weren’t looking for anything with him, huh? You’d both been lying there pretty damn comfortably. You with your little pillow under his arm and all, and then when you'd sat up, Rafe had honestly thought you were about to have a mini panic attack again—but no.

Fucking hell. You’d actually wanted to lay down on him, and now he was back to the exact same fucking thought cycle he’d just tried to escape, and he hadn’t registered a single damn word that stupid-ass Ken was sobbing about on the screen.

Fucking fantastic.

Maybe one of your shitty little asshole minions had actually infiltrated his brain.

No, fuck that, he just had to face the facts.

You were a sweet, nice girl when you weren’t in your cracked-out mode. As far as Rafe knew, you only hung out with other girls. One of them being your insane best friend (who chose fucking swamp rat Maybank over Topper? Whatever). And Rafe remembered from Sarah and her friendship with Kie that girls didn’t really have boundaries when it came to physical closeness. Cuddling, sleepovers, sharing beds, even making out for fun, all that shit. Stuff Rafe would never in his fucking life do with Kelce or Topper.

So with that in mind, you probably saw this—you two cozied up like this—as just another normal, friendship thing (Rafe still couldn’t believe he agreed to that fucking label). That was probably exactly why it didn’t faze you.

You were used to this with your girl friends.

Fuck, and why the hell did that piss him off now?

The fact that this was just some mundane, platonic thing for you and—fuck that. Jesus Christ, fuck that. What the actual hell was going on with him?

Oh right. He hadn’t done a line since yesterday morning. No wonder his brain was going insane.

Rafe slouched deeper into the seat, this whole mental gymnastics session draining the shit out of him. Your body instinctively adjusted to his as he pulled you in a little closer by your waist and—

Fuck.

The way your hip shifted under that fuzzy blanket as your right leg moved slightly, your knee now resting on his.

Rafe bit the inside of his cheek, trying like hell to think of literally anything else besides the electric shock that movement sent up his leg. How you didn’t seem fazed at all but he was basically losing his goddamn mind.

Like, he actually had to fight off another wave of brutally suggestive thoughts and visuals and—get a fucking grip,dude. The last thing he needed was another goddamn boner within thirty minutes.

Then you’d really think he was some horny fucking bastard. And also? He never got this turned on this quick with any other girl. Did you have some crazy-ass pheromones baked into your insanely good-smelling perfume?

Shit was insane.

With the hand that had been fiddling with your bracelet, Rafe ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, trying to focus on the dumbass movie. He let his hand fall back down onto his stomach, just inches from yours.

There was this urge, this absolutely stupid pull to reach over again. Not just for the crappy bracelet but for your actual hand. Feel your skin, trace the shape of your fingers, map out the patterns of your palm.

He was just curious, okay?

But he didn’t wanna push it. He was already scared that any wrong move might make you recoil. No way you'd—

No fucking way.

Rafe’s heart actually skipped a beat as your hand reached for his. Well, not exactly his hand, but the golden ring around his middle finger, your fingers brushing over it.

“Does it have a meaning?” you asked quietly, eyes focused on the shiny object.

Rafe looked at your soft profile for a moment before saying, “Belonged to my mother.”

Something weird twisted in his chest as your fingers stopped playing with the ring, then pulling away, your hand returning to rest gently on his stomach.

“Shit’s not cursed,” he said with a smirk at your oddly weird reaction.

You let out a soft chuckle, your warm breath ghosting over his hand. “Yeah, no, I know.” After a moment, you added, “It’s really pretty.”

Like you, Rafe thought, but he didn’t dare say that shit out loud.

“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered instead, reaching back out for your bracelet and playing with a tiny dangling heart charm. Ken was whining about something in the background. “Not as pretty as this royal masterpiece, though. Must’ve belonged to some ancient queen or some shit.”

Weirdly enough, the more Rafe looked at it, the more he actually started to think it was pretty. Maybe that was just your effect though.

You let out another soft laugh and Rafe soaked it up like liquid coke. “Cersei Lannister would be jealous.”

Rafe blinked. “Who?”

For some reason, that made you shift.

Rafe’s hand slipped from your waist as you turned toward him, propping yourself up on your left elbow while your other arm rested lightly on his stomach.

“You’ve never seen Game of Thrones?” you asked like it was some kind of personal offense.

Your face was so close now, thanks to how you two had been lying, and Rafe’s eyes briefly flicked to your lips before locking back onto yours. He smiled, shaking his head. “Nah. Not my type of shit.”

You looked like he just insulted your whole family tree. “That ‘shit’ is a masterpiece,” you said, tilting your head. “Well, minus the last two seasons.”

“Oh, I’m sure the sex scenes are real cinematic works of art,” Rafe replied with a crooked grin.

Your nose scrunched up. “You’re probably one of those guys who worships American Psycho. Yeah, not taking your opinion into account.”

“Wow. Acting like you know other guys,” Rafe said, chuckling at your dramatic little scowl.

Okay but like, he did like that movie. Bateman was a cool dude.

You just kept staring at him, brows furrowed like you were trying to decipher some puzzle.

Rafe chuckled again, raising his brows at you with a grin. “What?”

His phone buzzed in his pocket but he ignored it. Probably just Kelce being a dumbass a few feet away.

“This show is a must-watch,” you said, tapping your index finger against his chest.

Oh? This sudden boldness? The way you were initiating physical contact, telling him what to do, trying to boss him around about what trashy TV show he had to watch?

Shouldn't turn him on as much as it did.

“Yeah?” he asked, smirking. “Well, shit. Then I have to watch it.” He couldn’t have said it more sarcastically, but you just nodded all serious.

"Yeah, you have to," you said, expression stern. "I’ll bring the DVDs to school tomorrow and then you’re gonna watch that shit. Two weeks max and no scratches on the discs."

No fucking way you actually insisted on this shit. Also, who the fuck even had DVDs these days?

Rafe scoffed, amused. "Or you leave that shit at home and show me there."

There. That was the reaction he’d been hoping for. That little twitch of your brows, the blink of your eyes, the way you instantly got all awkward again once the minions in your head started realizing what he’d just said.

Shit was hilarious as fuck.

Bzzrt. Seriously, could Kelce stop being so fucking annoying?

Huh.

When Rafe looked over to the right, both Kelce and Molly were cuddled up, giggling at the movie. So either it was crybaby Topper sobbing over Hall again, or Wheezie sending him another one of her weird-ass YouTube conspiracy vids.

“Well, yeah, I guess if you want to,” you said, smiling all awkward.

Rafe raised a brow. “Do you?”

Bzzrt. Rafe was gonna kill that fucker, whoever it was.

Your brows twitched, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his polo as you let the question marinate.

A crooked smile formed on Rafe’s lips. No way the thought of watching that shit at your place made you uncomfortable but lying here with him was fine. Your brain was seriously fucked up.

But by now, he knew exactly how to shut up that one stupid minion in your head: just state the obvious. As much as it pissed Rafe off that he had to do this at all, he’d rather repeat himself a thousand times than go through another long-ass, exhausting convo with you spiraling over some completely unnecessary bullshit.

Bzzrt.

“Okay, let me say it again—” he started calm but firm, but you shook your head with a sheepish smile.

“No,” you let out a chuckle, then nodded. “I mean, yeah, I’d like that.”

That made this weird, fuzzy feeling bubble up in Rafe’s stomach, and the grin came naturally. “Okay, then—”

Bzzrt. Bzzrt.

Okay, that was fucking enough. Who the fuck was blowing up his phone like that?

“Fucking hell, wait a sec, some fucker’s spamming my phone,” he said with a frown and shifted slightly to the side, lifting his hip to grab his phone from his pocket.

Another annoying-ass bzzrt.

He lifted it to his face with his left hand but fucking Face ID bugged out, so he had to awkwardly move his right arm over your head to unlock it manually. That, in turn, made you back off slightly.

His chest clenched as your hand slid off his stomach, your head left his chest, and you shifted onto your back again, your gaze fixed back on Barbie.

Fuck. Seriously. This fucking fucker would catch hands.

Furrowing his brows, he unlocked his phone. And what. the. actual. fuck.

This fucking bitch.

What the actual fuck was she thinking, texting him this bullshit like he fucking cared? Shit. What the fuck?

Shit, hell no. This? This made his blood rush so fucking fast because not only had she chosen now to piss him off, she was also the fucking reason you’d pulled away from him. And Rafe wasn’t sure he could get you to move closer again.

But what really pushed him over the fucking edge was how she had the audacity to throw this passive-aggressive side dig at you. That was what really riled him up. This fucking bitch of all people trying to drag your name through the mud, acting like you weren’t worthy of him when it was the exact fucking—

FUCK.

Rafe could’ve thrown his phone at the screen. Why hadn’t he turned it off before this shitty-ass event? Why had he even bothered checking it?

Shit. And of all people, it was someone he didn’t give a single shit about.

Okay, no. Fuck her. He wasn’t putting up with Ruthie’s bullshit.

He sent her a middle finger emoji and made a mental note to tell that bitch off hard after the event.

He let out an annoyed breath, was about to turn off his phone and maybe try to coax you back to lying on his chest when, of course, Ruthie’s next message popped up.

Shit. He should just turn it off. But something in his gut told him something was off. That bitch lived to rile people up, but the tone of these next messages? It pissed him off too much to ignore.

Rafe shifted up higher, now sitting upright, knees pulled up, and tapped back into the chat.

Rafe stared blankly at the phone screen, fingers nearly digging into the display, pulse pounding, blood rushing through him while his chest rose and fell sharply, a vein popping in his neck as he tried to keep his fucking cool.

He was going to kill her.

He was going to fucking kill that bitch.

Because who the fuck did she think she was? Trying to toy with him like he was one of her stupid, cackling little bitches, when Ruthie’s stupid-ass family wasn’t even close to top-tier on Figure 8.

What did she—how the fuck had she even gotten a video like that? It didn’t make any fucking sense. Rafe always went into a backroom to deal AND do coke. He wasn’t a fucking idiot. He never did that shit in public.

HAH. Probably just fucking with him. Yeah. She was probably just trying to rile him up, fucking around, trying to ruin his moment with you.

Nah, it was probably just one dumb troll videos, fucking around like she always did. Joking, messing with people. Now she thought she could pull that same bullshit with Rafe.

He made sure his phone was muted and clicked on the video, pulse skyrocketing.

Come on. Fucking load.

Oh, that bitch was gonna catch hands for whatever troll video she’d sent. For whatever—

How.

He didn’t—

That didn’t make sense. That was—

No. Fucking shit, NO.

And yet, there it was. Some shaky video starting with Gracie’s front camera, that drunk bitch realizing she was filming herself. The POV switched to the back camera, focusing on two other girls in the kitchen, giggling and waving at the camera before downing shots.

The fucking video wasn’t even about Rafe. Except that it was.

Because in the background, you could see his back—him reaching into his pocket, prepping a line on the kitchen counter, and snorting it right off.

It could’ve been anybody if he hadn’t turned around at the last fucking second and rubbed his nose, the video cutting off as his full face came into frame.

FUCK.

Rafe didn’t even fucking remember that. He knew he’d done some lines that night—like two or three, okay maybe five—but all of them had been in the bathroom or Kelce’s guest room with nobody else around but himself, that fucker Chris, and some other losers.

Fucking hell.

He definitely didn’t remember being in the kitchen alone with Gracie of all people—the girl he’d dumped after a week of hooking up because she annoyed the living fuck out of him. Always clinging to Ruthie’s ass, always babbling about Ruthie. Ruthie this, Ruthie that. Like her whole life revolved around that bitch.

Shit, even during sex, she’d once asked to try a position because it was Ruthie’s favorite. Like—Jesus fuck—what the hell?

That had been the last straw. He’d packed his shit and left. Sure, Gracie had some insane mouth and hand game, but that? That had been beyond fucked.

That had been—

Shit. He remembered now.

He’d gone into the kitchen to look for you after doing lines with Chris and his loser crew in the guest room. But when he came back, you weren’t where he'd left you. Then he’d texted you and you’d replied you were in the bathroom with some guy which later turned out to be a typo for Molly’s name and FUCK.

Rafe had been so on edge, he hadn’t thought, and straight-up done a line in the kitchen.

Shit. Fucking shit.

And of all people, Ruthie had gotten her hands on the video.

Fuck. If she actually released that—

He didn’t give a shit what the school would think. They could kick him out, whatever. Even the cops, what could they do? They had a video, sure, but no real proof of it being coke. It showed him doing white line of something. Could've been flour. So what? Maybe an investigation, a fine. Whatever.

But his dad.

If his dad saw this video, Rafe was fucked. So fucking fucked. He’d—

He’d fucking kill that bitch.

Rafe didn’t even think. Rage and fury flooded his brain.

He set his phone aside, tossed his part of the blanket over your legs, and sat at the edge of the lounge bed, blood boiling as he reached for his shoes.

Oh, that bitch was lucky she wasn’t a guy. So fucking lucky. He would’ve knocked the fuck out of her, wiped that stupid grin off her face, knocked a few teeth loose and—

“Everything okay?”

Rafe stopped.

The turmoil inside him only worsened as he glanced back over his shoulder and met your pretty eyes, that soft glimmer in them. You had sat up too, hugging the blanket around your stomach.

Rafe just wanted to kick off his shoes again and slip right back under the blanket to your warm body. Feel your hand on his stomach, your head on his chest, breathe in your sweet perfume.

Then he remembered he'd only done that cursed line at the party because of you. Because you’d messed with his head with your cryptic-ass texts and your whole vibe and just—

Fuck.

You were the reason Ruthie had him in a fucking chokehold now. You were the reason Rafe had lost his goddamn mind to the point he’d done a stupid fucking line of coke right in the middle of some giggling girls filming him.

Rafe furrowed his brows, jaw clenched tight.

This anger toward you confused him because it clashed hard with that light feeling he’d had just seconds ago, lying there next to you.

"I’ll be right back," was all he said, his voice distant, and it pissed him off, even though he couldn’t stop it.

Your brows twitched and that just fueled his irritation and—

Shit. He could see it in your eyes. Little minions running around, confused and overwhelmed. Fuck, he really didn’t have time for that shit right now.

Rafe had to leave. If he didn’t find Ruthie soon, that fucking video would get out and he’d be fucked. He couldn’t deal with your anxiety spiral right now.

That was something you had to handle on your own now.

Once he’d gotten his other shoe on, he grabbed his phone and stood up, that familiar itch to snort a line crawling into his fingers.

And with that, he walked off, gaze fixed straight ahead, because he couldn’t bear to meet your sad eyes again.

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A girl. He’d been texting another girl.

You hadn’t seen who it was, hadn’t caught her name or profile pic, only the red heart at the bottom of the chat before he’d snatched his phone off the lounge bed and stormed off.

And now you were left alone.

The bed that had felt too small for the two of you earlier now looked way too big and empty. A deep clenching in your chest, a horrible twist in your stomach, and a storm of racing thoughts threatening to suffocate you.

You pulled the fluffy pink blanket higher, hugging your knees to your chest, staring straight ahead and clinging to the traces of warmth and scent he’d left on the fabric.

You didn’t even know what to think or feel. You two had just been so close moments ago—cuddling, the air light and sweet, Rafe actually relaxed.

But now? He’d looked so angry, so pissed off and mad, and you even got the sense that some of it had been directed at you, the way his voice had been so cold.

The fact that he’d even checked his phone to answer some girl while you two had been lying there so cozily... it hurt more than you wanted to admit. And you felt so stupid for feeling like this.

It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything.

Shit. And yet. Deep disappointment and irritation were bubbling up inside you. But even more than that: the question of who that girl was.

Who the hell was she to be sending Rafe little hearts? Who was she that he’d leave you behind to go chase after her? Who the fuck was she that he couldn’t even look at you as he stormed off?

Fuck. Now you were angry? This was so embarrassing and dumb. So many questions and wild theories gathering in your brain, each one worse than the last.

There were a lot of girls at the event tonight. You could rule out some random touron girl or a Pogue for obvious reasons. That just didn’t add up.

So... probably someone from school.

Maybe some ex-fwb who got jealous seeing you two together, or someone hoping to get back with him. Or maybe—

Ruthie was here. Cara had said she'd seen her with Topper. And where Ruthie was, Gracie usually wasn’t far.

Your heart sank.

She’d been one of his recent fwb situations. Sure, that had been a few months ago and hadn’t lasted long, as far as you could remember, but... could she be the one texting him?

Although, she hadn’t seemed particularly interested in Rafe at the party, or even at school, really. Even during the Truth or Dare game Friday night—she had sat on his right, yeah—but you remembered she hadn’t paid him any attention if you were being honest. Just giggling about Ruthie leading the game.

Besides, Gracie was pretty reserved and passive. Ruthie was the mouth of the duo, the one holding the whip.

So... maybe Ruthie had told Gracie to text Rafe? Just to mess with you two.

Okay, no. Wait. That’s... jesus christ. That’s borderline insane.

AHHHHH, were you really putting that much importance on yourself that you thought Ruthie would go out of her way to ruin something between you and Rafe? Which, what even was there to ruin?? Like it’s not like you two were a couple or anything, it was just this maybe kind of vibe, this budding friendship—

Ughhhhhhhh, strong secondhand embarrassment right here.

Sure, Ruthie didn’t seem to like you but to be fair, the feeling was mutual. But you clearly weren’t a threat to her. She had never paid you any attention before, so why would she now?

Okay ew, no. Scratch that thought immediately and pretend it never happened.

And besides—hello?? Rafe cuddled with you. CUDDLED.

No way he’d just throw that away to go make out with some random girl. Especially not when he’d seemed so at ease and relaxed with you. Like, come on. You didn’t want to act all full of yourself or anything but no way some ex-whatever-girl was more interesting than you right now.

HAH. That’s exactly what Cara would say. First she’d screech like a banshee at the fact that you and Rafe had cuddled, and then she’d say something like "Girl, no way he’s trading the comfort and safety of your boobs pressed to him for some dry-ass blowie from a rando bitch."

Wow. Thanks, imaginary Cara. #actuallyschizophrenic

Also, you kind of forgot the most important detail: Rafe had looked furious. Not just annoyed or moody, no, full-on I’m gonna beat someone up energy.

So maybe it wasn’t a girl at all. Maybe it was a guy texting him and the heart was some passive-aggressive way to piss him off.

Ohhhh, yeah, that would make sense.

You hadn’t seen Chris around, so maybe some other frat guy? Or maybe even a customer?

OH YEAH. Rafe dealt coke. Let’s not forget that. Maybe it was just some very urgent “business” emergency or whatever.

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH SURE PROBABLY THAT.

Then again, hahahahha, why would he go deal coke NOW, right in the middle of cuddling and watching a movie?? Like?????

UGH. Why couldn’t he have just told you why he was leaving? Then you wouldn’t be sitting here spiraling over something that was probably nothing. Maybe he was just taking a piss and the texts weren’t even related to why he'd left at all.

AHHHHHH so many possibilities, GONNA GO INSANE NOW HAHAHAHHA

No seriously. Chill. The minions in your brain were just going crazy for no reason (oh god am I actually adopting Rafe’s metaphors now welp).

AND ALSO, Rafe had said he’d be right back. No point spiraling over this right now, RIGHT?

You exhaled slowly and pulled the blanket up to your shoulders. Your left hand reached for the bracelet on your wrist, playing with the little dangling charms.

He’d come back soon. And then you could enjoy the rest of the movie, cuddled up with him again.

Except… he didn’t.

You spent the next thirty minutes alone on that lounge bed, hugging your blanket close, trying not to think about how humiliating and embarrassing you felt surrounded by all these other people who were sharing their lounge beds with someone else. Some of them had even watched Rafe leave, and now you looked like some stupid girl who just got ghosted.

And that’s exactly how you felt.

You didn’t even dare to look around, especially not to the right where Molly and Kelce were cuddling barely a meter away. This was just...

I'm so fucking stupid for believing this could’ve meant ANYTHING at all. That in some dumb, pathetic way you’d actually thought you meant something to Rafe after yesterday.

Am I just being angry for no reason?

You furrowed your brows, pulling your legs in even closer, tears threatening to rise, especially now that America Ferrera’s character was delivering this insanely powerful and gut-punching speech about women in the modern world.

And then the anger hit you at how right she was, at how fucking mistreated women were (not like that was news but right now it just hit differently), at the fact that Rafe had left you again, like he’d done at Kelce’s party to go deal coke, and now he was maybe balls deep in some girl in one of the toilet stalls while you were lying here alone like some stupid, naive idiot.

And now Ferrera was preaching about how women shouldn’t settle for less, how you should know your self-worth, about how society always expected you to be grateful for even the tiniest crumbs, even if they were against you.

LIKE NO. Fuck that. Fuck this. Fuck Rafe and his stupid—

The cushion beside you dipped. Startled, you looked away from the screen, expecting to see Rafe but instead, big brown eyes and a furrowed brow greeted you.

“You okay?” Kie asked, her tone laced with anger, though it didn’t feel directed at you.

You blinked, completely taken off guard seeing her here—and then realized, shit, you actually were crying.

You instinctively wiped your tears away, feeling ridiculously stupid and pathetic and gave her a forced smile.

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” you said, scooting a little to the right so she could sit properly.

But Kie didn’t move.

“Do you wanna come join us?” she asked, hesitating a bit before carefully adding, “I doubt he’s coming back.”

Your stomach twisted at hearing what you already knew deep down.

But facing everyone like this now? No way. You didn’t want their pity or well-meaning sympathy right now. So you shook your head, forcing another smile.

“No, I… it’s fine. I’m good here,” you said, and you both knew you were lying.

Kie held your gaze for a moment, her expression stern. Then she moved away from the edge and sat down next to you in the spot that had been Rafe’s.

Somehow that made your chest tighten.

“It’s not fine,” Kie said quietly, shaking her head. “Rafe doesn’t get to play the asshole whenever he feels like it.”

You knew she was right, and yet…

“I don’t think he means it badly,” you said and immediately questioned yourself for saying that.

Kie clearly thought the same, judging by the way she looked at you. “He left you here. Don’t tell me you’re defending his shitty behavior.”

“No, but—” You blinked. How did she even know he’d been gone in the first place? “Did you see him?”

For a brief second, an image of Kie and Rafe together somewhere on the event grounds popped into your head but you quickly pushed that absurd thought away.

“He almost walked me and Cleo over when we came back from the snack bar,” Kie explained. “Seemed like he’d just come from the toilet stalls.” She furrowed her brows. “Then he pretty much stormed off toward the exit. Looked like he was about to kill someone.”

…

Oh.

He left.

Not just for 30 minutes. No, he actually left.

The feeling that rose in your chest… you couldn’t even describe it. It just felt hollow. Like a deep, deep hole that had just gotten even deeper after hearing Kie’s words.

You didn’t even— what the hell was going on with him? You didn’t understand. This just seemed off. Sure, his mood swings were completely unpredictable but going from cuddling straight to ditching the entire event?

Maybe something had happened? Like a family emergency? But then again, Sarah was still here. If something had happened, wouldn’t she have been alerted too?

All of it felt so strange. And somehow, your gut was telling you something bad must’ve happened, something that had rattled Rafe enough to make him bolt like that. And now you felt bad for thinking all those horrible things about him earlier.

“Did you see if anyone was with him?” you asked anyway, dreading the answer.

Kie curled her lips and shook her head. “To be honest, I just came straight here. I figured he didn’t tell you he'd leave. He’s an ignorant asshole.”

God, Kie was way sweeter than you’d initially thought.

“I don’t get why he’d leave without at least saying something,” you said, brows furrowing. “That’s just… I don’t get it.”

Kie made a bitter grimace. “There’s nothing to get. He’s always been like that. There’s no changing him. Trust me, okay?”

That… didn’t sound like someone who just disliked a guy. It sounded like someone who had history with him. Which made you feel all kinds of weird. Like you were talking to some ex of his, even though you didn’t actually know what had gone down between them. If anything had even gone down.

And because you didn’t want to make assumptions, you just said it straight out: “That sounds like you two used to be close.”

Kie’s brows twitched and she looked away for a second, as if debating whether to open up. In the background, the Barbies were currently executing their plan to take back Barbieland.

“Not in the way you might think,” she finally said, hugging her knees up to her chest. “When I first became friends with Sarah as kids, Rafe was always hanging around too. Back then he wasn’t such a massive asshole. More like a friendless loser, honestly.” She let out a small laugh. “He’d always crash our hangouts, trying to annoy us—me especially—but once I put him in his place, he was… actually kind of okay to be around.” A distant smile touched her lips. “I’m an only child but I guess he was the closest thing I had to an older brother.”

Her smile faded quickly, that stern expression returning. “And when their mom died, everything just… changed. I mean, of course it did. But Rafe… he suddenly seemed to hate Sarah. He got more aggressive. More distant. But she was my best friend, so obviously I stuck by her when it felt like he wanted me to pick sides. It only got worse when I joined the KA in ninth grade.” Kie grimaced. “He grew almost obsessed with trying to turn me against her. So I put a stop to it. Eventually, he backed off. But it’s Rafe,” she said bitterly, “if he can ruin someone’s day, he will.”

She held your gaze, a kind of bittersweetness behind her eyes. “I’m not saying he’s toying with you. Actually, I’m pretty convinced he’s horribly into you and just doesn’t know how to deal with that because it freaks him out.” A small, frowning shake of her head. “Still doesn’t excuse his shitty behavior.”

You just stared at her, kind of baffled. Only the sound of Ryan Gosling’s Ken singing “Push” while playing guitar in the background grounded you, which, disturbingly, kinda described Rafe's dynamic with you a little too well.

The fact that she and Rafe had been kind of sibling-like once… that was unexpected, but honestly very sweet. And the idea that the three of them—Kie, Sarah, Rafe—had once been some little trio? That hit in a way you hadn’t expected.

And here you’d been feeling jealous like some stupid crazy bitch.

But what really threw you off were her last words. Hearing her say—she, who had been so skeptical just the day before, clearly judging your whole thing with Rafe—that she actually believed he might actually…

GOD, YOU COULDN’T EVEN THINK IT. Didn’t want to. Scared it might jinx it.

Kie's features softened slightly when she saw your expression, letting out a sigh. “I can tell you genuinely seem to like him, and I think you could actually be really good for him in the long run.” She raised her brows, amused. “JJ said Rafe only almost decked him earlier when you'd talked.”

That made you chuckle too.

“That’s why my only advice to you is,” she continued, her expression turning serious again, “Don’t let his bullshit slide. Ever. Rafe is a very difficult person but whatever he’s dealing with doesn’t excuse being an asshole.” Her features softened again as her eyes landed on your bracelet. “Still, I believe he has so much to give to the right person.” She met your gaze again. “Maybe it's you.”

JESUS CHRIST. This was just... A LOT.

Her spilling some crazy backstory about their past, the bittersweet tone in her voice when she talked about him, the fucking fact that she thought Rafe might actually have caught feelings for you AND HOLY FUCKING SHIT, her thinking YOU might actually be good for him?

God, and on top of that, her still seeming to care about him even after their falling out, despite how much she’d learned to dislike him…

It just hurt even more because it felt like she didn’t want you to go through what she had, and AHHHHHH I CANNOT.

You hugged your legs closer, eyeing her, completely stunned. “That... I don’t even…” you started, but nothing felt more fitting right now than: “Thank you.” You smiled, genuinely. “For making me feel better and… for sharing this with me.” You let out a sheepish little laugh, playing with the charms on your bracelet. “And for looking out for me in the first place.”

Kie’s mouth twitched into a smile, her gaze flicking away from yours for a second. “To be honest, I didn’t know what to make of it—how you seemed to actually like Rafe. It’s just… he’s turned into this cocky, pushy, aggressive guy, and I couldn’t really believe someone like you would hang out with him willingly.”

She shook her head and met your eyes again. “But then I saw you two together on the event field earlier, and there was this calmness to him.” A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “It’s like he lets himself relax when he’s around you.”

OKAY BYE. THAT WAS THE FINAL BLOW. HOLY SHIT.

All of this spilling out of Kie, It was just... a lot to process.

Not to mention the entire situation in the first place, and as much as you appreciated her words, her presence, everything, all you could think about was how badly you wanted to go after Rafe now. Check the parking lot or wherever he’d gone because he definitely hadn’t gone home. You all arrived with Topper’s car.

But you stayed put.

As much as your heart was aching to run after him, to find out what was going on, to understand why he’d left you like that, hell, even just to talk it out, you didn’t want to leave Kie behind.

She didn’t seem like the type to just open up easily or willingly to some girl she’d known for a day, so this felt like a rare moment—something real between you two. And you definitely didn’t want to pull a Rafe move on her.

“I can’t believe I’m putting up with his bullshit either,” you finally said, a smile tugging at your lips. “But I guess... part of me also relaxes around him. I don’t know, he just… helps me get out of my head.” You chuckled softly. “Even if he does it in the worst way possible.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, thinking about how hurt he’d looked earlier. “And I’m far from a saint either. I have a huge overthinking problem, and it messes with my relationships a lot. Honestly, I’m surprised he still sticks around, considering I drive him up the wall most of the time.”

That got a genuine laugh out of Kie and she shook her head. “Sounds like you’re handling him just right then.”

You smiled, the heaviness in your chest easing a little. Grateful for Kie’s honesty and her presence.

And when you noticed the goosebumps on her arms, a soft breeze blowing through her brown locks, you immediately reached for the fluffy pink blanket and held it up for her.

Shit, you hadn’t even noticed she was probably freezing. Oops.

Kie eyed you for a second, something like hesitation in her gaze, but then she smiled and scooted closer, grabbing one end of the blanket and pulling it up to her chest.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, adjusting into a more comfortable position, her shoulder now resting against yours.

That somehow marked the end of the whole Rafe conversation.

The next twenty minutes were spent snuggled up under the blanket, sharing warmth, giggling about how pathetic Ken had been at the end (Kie compared him to Rafe which just made you laugh harder), snacking on Rafe’s leftover nachos and your own snacks, and almost (definitely) crying during the crazy emotional montage of Barbie experiencing girlhood and humanity in a speedrun. You were pretty sure you even heard Kelce sobbing next to you.

No better way to bond than over Barbie.

After the movie ended, the screen showed a 45-minute countdown until Transformers would start. In the meantime, most people got up to stretch, run to the restroom, grab new snacks and drinks, and some even left—they’d only come for Barbie.

You and Kie had left the blanket on your seats and headed straight to the stalls (you made sure to take a wide detour around Kelce and Molly because the last thing you needed was them asking questions about Rafe or making comments about you two cuddling).

Inside the stall, you pushed down all your anger and confusion and decided to send Rafe a quick text because, more than anything, you were actually worried.

Ughhh, is that too clingy? PROBABLY.

But you didn’t care. He’d spammed your entire phone this afternoon with cursed and suggestive pics, so you could definitely drop one little concerned text. Besides, it had been almost an hour since he'd left, and the fact that he hadn’t sent even a small update was kind of weird.

Rude. Ignorant. Definitely an asshole move. But somehow Kie had eased your thoughts so much that it didn’t feel like he left because he regretted cuddling with you, or ran off to find another girl, no, it felt like something must’ve happened. Something serious.

And your gut told you that if Rafe was spooked enough to leave like that, it had to be bad (And you had your dad’s gut and his was never wrong. So that had to mean something, at least)

Outside the toilet stalls, girls were giggling and chatting about the movie, laughing about the Kens, quoting America Ferrera’s monologue, and praising the message of the film.

You even recognized Cara’s voice when you stepped out to wash your hands.

“I swear, I dated a guy exactly like that once,” she said. “He literally played the same song and stared at me the exact same way. Most horrendous moment of my life.”

More laughter followed.

You chuckled to yourself, shouldered your bag, and took a deep breath. This was going to be the most awkward and interrogative interaction of your life.

As you made your way through the crowd of girls still in line, stepping out of the restroom cabin, all eyes snapped toward you the second you joined the group.

Legitimately everyone was there. The Pogues, Cara, even Kelce and Molly. Surprised Topper wasn’t there too.

Great.

Everyone was here—except the one person you desperately wanted to see.

Just smile. Prepare for some horrible question like Where’s Rafe?, Did you guys fight?, Why’d he leave?, Kelce said he saw you cuddling, blah blah blah.

UGHHHHH.

But to your surprise, they stayed quiet. Smiling in that way that said we know what happened but we’re not gonna overwhelm you.

And worst of all? Every single face was filled with pity. The last thing you wanted.

Except Kie's. She had this genuine smile, one that said don’t worry, I made sure they wouldn’t bombard you with questions.

“Alriiiight,” JJ said, clapping his hands. “Shots?”

Everyone seemed to agree.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

“…and then he left,” you finished your little recap of tonight’s events as you and the girls were sitting at a high table on barstools near the bar at the edge of the event venue.

The boys were sitting a few tables down, laughing loudly at some nonsense. Kelce and JJ had clicked immediately. Not surprising at all, considering both of them were party animals with the same extroverted energy.

Anyway. You hadn’t really had a choice not to tell the girls about your night with Rafe because they’d been staring at you for the past ten minutes like you were a bomb about to explode. And also, they’d tried acting normal in a painfully awkward way. Failed miserably.

You’d asked them to just listen first and not interrupt, though, because otherwise it would turn into an endless back-and-forth, and you hadn’t even wanted to talk about this in the first place.

All five of them stared at you blankly.

And then Cara exploded. “YOU FUCKING CUDDLED?!”

Jesus Christ—that was probably loud enough for half of the North Side to hear.

“Did you not hear the part where he just left her?” Cleo said with an amused expression.

Cara nodded wildly. “Absolute asshole move, yeah, I’m definitely gonna kill him next time I see him but—” She shook her head and gestured her hands in your direction, nearly knocking over Kie’s drink. “YOU CUDDLED. I—That’s—Someone call 911, I think I’m having a heart attack.”

You and Sarah chuckled while Cleo and Kie just shook their heads.

“He wasn’t even watching the movie,” Molly said with a smile, playing with the straw in her mojito. “Every time I looked over, he was just gazing at her.”

WHAT.

Cara shrieked and almost fell off her barstool.

“And yet he still left,” Kie said dryly, shaking her head with a grimace. “Can we please not gloss over that.”

Molly nodded. “I’m really sorry about that. I wanted you to come over and join me and Kelce, but he insisted Rafe would be back soon. And when I did want to get up, Kiara was already with you.”

Um... yeah, you were pretty glad you hadn’t joined Molly and Kelce. That lounge bed was definitely too small for three people, and you absolutely didn’t feel like third-wheeling like some loser.

Still, the thought counted.

“Thanks, but it’s all good,” you said with a smile.

Sarah shifted in her seat, brows furrowed. “I just can’t believe he’d leave you like that. And you really didn’t see who messaged him?”

You shook your head. “No. Just that most of the texts seemed to be from the one texting him, and at the end I just saw a red heart in one of the messages. That’s it.”

“That’s so weird,” Sarah said. “I honestly can’t think of anyone that could’ve been. Maybe Wheeze needed to be picked up from Theo’s? He does live pretty far from Tannyhill. Maybe Dad or Sasha couldn’t go. That could explain why he looked so pissed, like you said. Maybe he was just mad the night got ruined.”

You assumed Sasha was the Camerons’ housekeeper.

You tilted your head. “But then why wouldn’t he just say that? Like, that wouldn’t even have been a problem. And besides, he said he’d be right back.”

“And also, how would he even have left?” Cara added. “They all arrived with Topper's car."

Sarah nodded. “Oh right.” She tilted her head. “Did he maybe ask him for the keys?”

Cara shook her head with a nope look. “It’s his mom’s Range Rover. I’m surprised he even got to drive it. No way he’d let Rafe take it.”

You all just stared at her.

“What?” she said. “He whined to me about it at the party on Friday, okay?”

Uh-huh.

“Well, have you texted him?” Cleo asked you, crossing her arms on the table. “Seems like the easiest way to find out what’s going on.”

You nodded. “Yeah, but he hasn’t answered yet.”

And right on cue, your phone buzzed in your purse.

Your heart skipped a beat, pulse shooting up, everyone watched you expectantly as you pulled your phone out but that feeling quickly faded.

“Topper,” you said, disappointment leaking into your voice. Then you picked up. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey,” he said on the other end, voice sounding weird. “Do you have a minute?”

Aaaand your heart was back in the race. “Uh… sure, I guess. Where are you? Everything okay?” Is Rafe with you? you almost asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but he didn’t sound convincing. “I’m at the archway.”

You blinked and looked over your shoulder, spotting his silhouette—at least you thought it was him—at the far end of the venue. He seemed to be alone.

“Okay, uh, we’re at the bar,” you said, turning back around. “Don’t you wanna come over? Kelce is here too.”

A pause. Then: “Cara’s with you, right?”

Instinctively, your eyes met hers. “Yeah.”

“Um,” he gave a strained chuckle, “I’d rather not then.”

You nearly frowned. Was he seriously still sulking because she didn’t accept his ride offer?

Whatever.

“Alright, I’ll be right there,” you said, and the girls shot you weird looks.

You could practically hear Topper exhale in relief. “Thanks.”

With that, you hung up and shouldered your bag.

“What?” Cara asked, frowning. “He’s afraid of coming over here or what?”

Sarah and Molly chuckled.

You shrugged and slid off the stool. “No idea. I’ll be right back. Maybe he knows something about Rafe.”

Cara was already about to protest, making a move to join you, but you shook your head with an amused smile. “Stay here. I got this.”

“Tell him his drama queen behavior is such a turn-off,” she muttered, and the others laughed in agreement.

As you made your way across the venue, you gripped the strap of your bag tighter. Your hands were clammy with nerves, unsure what exactly Topper needed to talk to you about. And now that you were away from the fireplace at the bar, a cold night breeze whipped across your bare arms and you just now realized how much the temperature had dropped.

Great. And Rafe had the ticket for your jacket at the coat check.

Even though you were cold, kinda annoyed that Topper hadn’t come over himself, and hadn’t even said what this was about, you still managed a smile as you finally reached him at the archway.

“Hey,” you said. “Everything okay? What’s going on?”

Why was he standing here alone? Hadn’t he spent the whole evening with Ruthie’s girl squad? And most importantly: Did something happen to Rafe? Because the tension in his smile definitely hinted at something serious.

Topper nodded. “Yeah, uh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, no.” He pressed his lips together and sighed. “I feel stupid for even asking you to come over here. I mean I don’t wanna drag you into something you’re not really involved in.”

Again, you almost frowned. So this wasn’t about Rafe. It was about Cara.

Great :)

“But,” he continued, “I’m just… I’m confused. About Cara, I mean. Her whole vibe.”

Then why don’t you just talk to her??? (Okay girl, calm down, no need to take it out on the poor guy who’s probably just looking for some clarity. Just like you.)

You hugged yourself from the cold and tilted your head. “I get why you're irritated, but honestly, I think it’s best if you just talk to her yourself. I’m really not in a position to speak for her.”

Topper nodded. “I know and I—I wanted to but she’s either been with Sarah or Maybank the whole night, and I didn’t wanna approach her with those two around.”

Okay, JJ you understood, but Sarah? That just seemed like a lame excuse. Oh, wait— didn’t Rafe mention during his little hate speech yesterday that Sarah tried to turn Topper against him too? So maybe there was some history between them.

“Well, she’s free now,” you said, rubbing your arms. “Want me to go get her?”

Please say yes, it’s freezing out here.

Topper’s brows twitched and he scratched his chin. “You think she’d even wanna talk to me?”

If you keep being this self-pitying, then probably not. Holy shit, girl, calm the fuck down. This was Rafe infiltrating your brain.

Wait—

RAFE!

Your heart stopped when you spotted him a few meters away, coming from the parking lot with the biggest scowl known to man. He made a quick stop at the register, probably because the cashier had called him over. Probably wanted to check his ticket.

Your gaze flicked back to Topper, pulse racing now, adrenaline shooting high. You nodded quickly.

“Yeah, yeah! Sure,” you said, probably grinning like a maniac. "Actually, I think she’d really love it if you went up to her. I mean, Cara likes it when guys take initiative.”

UGHHHH that sounded so stupid, no way he would—

“You think so? I don’t—”

Another quick nod. “Yeah, definitely. You can trust me on this.”

PLEASE JUST GO, NEED TO TALK TO RAFE.

Topper hesitated, then nodded with a somewhat relieved smile. “Yeah, okay.” He took a step forward, but then paused, eyeing you in confusion. “Aren’t you also—”

“Yo, Top!”

Both you and Topper turned, and your heart plummeted as you saw the furious look on Rafe’s face while he marched toward you. His expression twisted into an irritated, almost maniacal grin locked solely on Topper.

Topper didn’t even get the chance to react before Rafe shoved him in the chest. “You’re a fucking shitface,” Rafe hissed, not even sparing you a glance.

“Hey, man, what—what’s going on?” Topper looked totally confused, rubbing his chest after stumbling back a step.

Rafe scoffed, tapping his chest with both hands. “You trying to fuck me over or some shit, huh? Trying to act like some little backstabbing piece of shit?”

You just stood there, frozen, completely stunned by the whole situation. A few people nearby had already started glancing over.

Topper shook his head, brows furrowed. “What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“Oh, real funny.” Rafe clicked his tongue, shaking his head slightly. Then, without warning, he stepped forward, grabbing Topper by the collar and towering over him. “I think you know damn well what the fuck I’m talking about.”

Topper blinked, clearly completely thrown. “No, dude. I have no idea what you—”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Rafe said, nodding, the corners of his mouth twitching downward. There was something seriously unsettling about his tone. He gave Topper a hard shake and raised his voice: “You think I’m fucking stupid, huh? You think I—”

“Get the fuck off me,” Topper snapped, shoving Rafe’s hands off. “You’re coked up, dude. I don’t even fucking know what you’re on about—”

Rafe’s fist connected with Topper’s face with a sickening crack. A pained groan escaped Topper as he stumbled sideways, his hand flying to his cheek. “What the fuck?!”

Horrified, you gasped. A few girls nearby even shrieked.

But Rafe didn’t stop. He stepped forward again, looking like he was about to beat Topper to a pulp but instead grabbed his collar once more, just about to open his mouth when:

“Rafe!”

Kelce’s voice rang out suddenly, with John B and Sarah right behind him.

Rafe’s head snapped up and he scoffed, shaking his head. “Shiiit. Is this some kind of fucking joke?” He shoved Topper away and threw a mocking gesture toward Kelce. “You too now, huh?” He let out something like a chuckle but it sounded more like a disbelieved scoff. Tapping his chest again, he said, “Both of you trying to fuck with me, huh?”

“Dude, you need to chill out,” Kelce said, and it was wild how weird his voice sounded when he was serious. "What's going on?"

Rafe tilted his head, and everything about him screamed danger. “Chill, yeah? Just like you’re chillin’ with fucking pogue rats now, huh?”

“Rafe,” Sarah said, and his head immediately snapped toward her. “Seriously, you need to—”

“Oh, don’t you fucking dare tell me what to do,” Rafe snapped, stepping toward her with a shake of his head.

John B stepped in front of Sarah, chin raised, and Rafe stopped in his tracks with another scoff, rubbing over his nose with a sniff. He nodded. “Sweet. Yeah. That’s fucking sweet. Y’all a big happy fucking family now or what?”

“Dude,” Kelce said, stepping in and grabbing Rafe’s shoulder but Rafe immediately shoved his hand away.

Kelce raised his hands and backed off. “You need to get your shit together, bro.”

Two mean-looking security guys were already heading straight toward the commotion. The whole nearby area had quieted down, all eyes on you.

Rafe didn’t give a damn. His gaze was now locked back on John B.

Oh god—and the security guys looked like the kind who’d knock someone out first and ask questions later. They were heading straight for Rafe.

“Step back! Now!” one of them yelled.

Jesus Christ, and that idiot just turned to them with a provocative smile on his face, clearly ready to stir up more shit but you couldn’t bear to watch him get beat up again.

Heart pounding like mad, you stepped up to Rafe, hesitantly reaching for his arm. Your heart sank to your stomach when he grabbed your wrist tightly with his other hand, probably thinking it was Topper or Kelce.

“Rafe,” you said, voice shaking.

His head snapped toward you, and for a second, you thought he’d push you away but the moment his blown-wide pupils met your eyes, his grip immediately loosened, his brows twitching as he stared at you.

One of the security guards was about to grab Rafe, but you quickly shook your head, letting go of his arm and stepping halfway in front of him, giving the grim-looking guy a nervous smile. “It’s okay, he—we’re leaving.”

“No, the fuck, we’re not.”

You turned back to Rafe, planting your hands firmly on his chest as he tried to step forward again. You looked up at him, pleading, hoping he’d have some shred of sense left.

“Please,” you whispered, your heart hammering at the fury in his eyes. “If they call the cops, and they see you like this…”

They’d know immediately he was on something. They’d run tests—oh god, and if he had a baggie on him, it’d be over. He’d be arrested, charged, investigated, and—

You felt the warmth of his chest slip from beneath your hands as he took a step back. With a big, crooked grin, he threw his hands up for a second, gaze still locked on the security behind you.

“Chill the fuck out, aight?” he said, then let his hands drop, his expression twisting into a scowl as he looked first at Topper, then Kelce, then Sarah. He shook his head, his voice full of scorn and detachment—almost not even sounding like him when he said: “Fucking backstabbing rats. All of you. You fit right into this little play-pretend family.”

Everyone just watched him storm off in stunned silence, completely speechless.

“If your friend comes back again, he’s getting more than a warning,” one of the security guards said.

John B mumbled something in response, but you didn’t even register it, the blood was rushing in your ears too loud, your heart pounding wildly, eyes fixed on Rafe’s back as he disappeared through the entrance.

Kelce stepped forward and said something like “I’ll go after him,” but you were faster.

You didn’t think. Didn’t give yourself the chance to second-guess. Didn’t even hear Kelce call after you as you took off after Rafe.

Gripping the strap of your bag tightly, you rushed through the archway, past the entrance and register. Your cheeks flushed with adrenaline as you stepped into the gravel parking lot, scanning frantically for his familiar silhouette.

The warm lights of the lanterns and the cool milky hue of the moon mixed together, bathing the parked cars in a spectacle of gold and silver surfaces.

And then—there!

Just straight ahead, a silhouette walking off.

You rushed after him, feet hitting the gravel path, every step in sync with the pounding of your heartbeat.

“Rafe,” you called after him, a weird feeling spreading in your chest as he didn’t stop.

You pushed down the anxiety and doubts and called his name again. “Wait. Please.”

The silhouette came to a halt.

Broad shoulders lit by the golden glow of the streetlamp hanging directly above him. His whole posture tense, defiant and alert all at once. You could see his strained breathing in the way his upper body moved.

You pressed your lips together, nerves buzzing with unease. You’d never seen him like this. All coked-up and furious. Even punching his friend in the face.

The fear of what he might do if you said the wrong thing clashed hard with your concern and the aching need to reach out to him.

Heart hammering, you forced yourself to shove all of that down and stepped closer, half-circling him, knuckles white from how tightly you clutched your purse strap.

Your heart sank straight through the ground when you stepped around him and saw his face, expecting a frown, a deep scowl, rage and irritation in his gaze but instead:

Tired, red eyes. Glossy. Pupils so wide they seemed to choke out the blue of his irises. And adding to the heart-wrenching sight was the purple bruise blooming on his right cheek, still fresh enough to be illuminated like a spotlight in the streetlamp’s golden glow.

Physically and mentally, Rafe looked completely wrecked.

“What happened?” you asked quietly, a silent whisper, scared that even the smallest push might make him crash out. “Are you okay?”

Your chest tightened as he looked at you with such cold distance it almost resembled contempt.

Rafe scoffed, more a tired exhale than anything. “Do me a fucking favor and go back inside. I’ve had enough of fake bitches tonight.”

Your brows twitched, the words hitting like a punch to the gut but you swallowed the sting and the anger. You knew he didn’t mean it like that. He was just pushing you away.

“Rafe, what’s going on?” you asked again, a little more confident now, voice soft, searching his cold eyes for some kind of answer.

He let out an annoyed breath, rolling his eyes so hard you saw the whites. As his gaze locked with yours again, it was sharp and unsettling. He tapped his temples with his fingers. “I’m serious. I have zero patience for your anxiety bullshit right now.”

You blinked, stunned. Did he seriously think you came out here for some kind of reassurance? And what the fuck did he mean by ‘anxiety bullshit’?

“I don’t—I’m not here because of that,” you said with furrowed brows, unable to keep the edge out of your voice. You hugged your arms tightly around yourself, partly from the cold, partly just to soothe yourself. “I just... You left so suddenly, and I—what happened?”

Rafe shook his head and raised his chin, face twisted in irritation. “Okay, what the fuck is this? Some pathetic attempt to squeeze gossip out of me? Did Sarah send you here so you can giggle with your new little girl squad later?”

“What?” You stared at him, baffled. What the actual fuck was going on with him? “No! I’m just worried. This is—I mean, I’m just trying to understand what's going on.”

Rafe let out a bitter laugh, gesturing back toward the event hall. “Why don’t you go back inside to Topper then and ask that fucker, huh? Looked like you two were getting real cozy right now.”

Seriously, what the actual fuck.

You didn’t even let your brain begin to process what that implied. You just blinked at him, stunned, brows knitting together as your own frustration started to rise.

“We were just talking,” you said, voice tight. “He asked me—”

“Yeah, talking alone far from everyone else,” Rafe cut in, tapping his chest with an angry hand. “Does everyone think I’m some fucking—”

“He was whining to me about Cara, okay!” you snapped, totally done with his deflections and accusations. “He called me over because he was scared to join us at the bar or whatever, I don’t know.” You shook your head in disbelief. “I—do I look like—I mean what does that even have to do with Topper?”

“Nothing that fucking concerns you,” Rafe shot back with a scowl, eyes so cold it was like he didn’t even recognize you.

Why couldn’t he just say what was wrong?

Instead, he threw all his anger at you for no damn reason. Almost like...

Now you tapped your chest. “It does fucking concern me because it feels like I’m the reason you left.”

Shit.

Your lips clamped shut the second the words left your mouth. Fuck. You really didn’t mean to make this about you. Fuckfuckfuck.

“I’m just—” you started again, but stopped as Rafe’s face twisted into full-blown irritation and disbelief.

“You think this is about you?” His voice was razor sharp, slicing down your spine. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, scoffing. "Seriously, this constant whining and need for fucking reassurance is pissing me the fuck off.”

He spat the last words like venom, making you flinch at his sudden shift toward you. Just an hour ago you’d been curled up together, laughing. Now he was a completely different person.

His brows twitched as he stared at your shocked expression, mouth opening, probably to throw more shit at you, but you’d had enough. Your conversation with Kie flashed through your mind.

“You know what,” you snapped. “Yeah, this is about me. Because you don’t get to treat me however the fuck you want just because you feel like it. First all sweet and affectionate and now whatever the hell this is.” You let out a shaky breath, tapping your temples. “You call me crazy but what the fuck is going on with you? It's fucked getting me to cozy up to you and then vanishing without a word. I just—it's fucking humiliating getting left behind like that.”

Rafe grimaced, voice low. “I fucking came back, didn’t I?”

Was he for fucking real?

“Yeah, sure,” you said dryly. “You came back all coked-up and then punched your friend. Like, did you seriously dip just to snort something? If your addiction is—”

“You better shut your fucking mouth now,” Rafe snapped, eyes narrowed, taking a step forward. His stare was so intense, real fear prickled down your spine. But he just shook his head. “You have no fucking clue what the fuck you’re talking about.”

You had to fight the urge to step back, clutching your arms tighter. Despite the fear and irritation swelling in your chest, your next words came out quiet, shaky around the edges. “I’m just worried, okay? Something clearly happened in the last hour that set you off. I’m not trying to be nosy—”

“You are,” Rafe barked, pupils blown wide like black discs. He grimaced, brows tight. “This has nothing to do with you, alright?” His voice cracked into something almost desperate. “Now stop pissing me off and get your ass back inside.” His hand went into his pants pocket for a second, then shoved a tag with the number 69 into your view. “And take that shit too.”

“No.”

Rafe’s scowl deepened so much you genuinely thought he might throw the tag at your face. “You really wanna test my fucking patience right now?”

You didn’t move. Didn’t even look at the tag. Just stared at him, shaking your head softly. “Something happened. And you don’t look okay at all. You don’t have to tell me what it was, but—”

“Jesus Christ, do you ever stop talking?” Rafe cut in, shaking his head with a bitter laugh, tapping his temples again with a crooked smile. “Shit up here can’t be that bad.”

Fuck. That.

"You're an asshole," you snapped, fury taking over your voice. "And being on drugs doesn’t excuse your shitty behavior."

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off, brows furrowed deep. "And attacking my insecurities and issues is disgusting and pathetic, especially when all I was trying to do was understand what's going on with you."

You shook your head with a scowl, stepping closer and pointing at his chest, voice furious. "And I’m so sick of your constant mood swings. I get it if you’re having a bad day, but I’m not letting you take it out on me." You hugged your arms around yourself again, stepping back, heart clenching painfully at the shift in his expression—genuine irritation written all over his face. "So if that’s your idea of what a friendship is supposed to look like, then I sure as hell don’t wanna be part of it."

You didn’t even wait for a reply, too afraid you’d start crying at whatever awful, hurtful comment he’d throw at you next. So you grabbed your bag strap tight, heart pounding and screaming, and turned around to go rejoin the others, doing everything you could not to let the tears fall.

I’m so stupid. So, so stupid for thinking I could handle him. So fucking stupid for running after him and—

"Don’t leave."

You froze in your tracks as those two small words hit the air, his voice shaky and desperate, laced with fear and frustration. It felt like someone had just reached into your chest and torn your heart right out.

And then the second bullet hit, even harder and more painful, as it followed the first one with a quiet "Please."

The final blow hit you as you turned around. Standing under the soft glow of the streetlamp was the shilouette of a boy, looking so deeply wrecked and broken, it cut right through your ripped-out heart.

Wide eyes staring back at you, desperation etched into every line of his face as he rubbed his forehead with a fist.

"I… I just can’t help it, okay," he said, frustrated, his expression twisted in pain as he tapped his temples aggressively. "My head, it’s— I know something’s wrong up here, I just…" Now rubbing his temples, hands clenched into fists, eyes shut tight. "It’s like my body’s… like it's always two steps ahead of my brain, and it's out of my control what I say or do."

His face contorted as he let his hands drop and gestured to his chest, gravel crunching under his shoes as he stepped closer. "I’m not a bad guy, okay?" he said, desperation bleeding into his voice and his expression, hands now motioning to you. "I’m just— it’s just… I need you to understand I didn’t mean to hurt or attack you. Or lash out at you. In moments like these I just…" Palm rubbing one eye with a grimace, then tapped one finger at his head. "It’s like someone else's taking over. And this whole fucked-up situation has me so on edge anyway, and I—I know I shouldn’t have taken it out on you and I don’t—"

"Rafe."

Your voice was as soft as it could be, and yet he still looked like he was bracing for impact.

"It’s okay. Really," you said with a sad smile, shaken to your core by what had just spilled out of this boy (again). "I know what it’s like to have a messy head. You don’t need to—"

"No, you don’t understand," he interrupted, shaking his head in frustration, tapping his temple again. "It’s not like your little minions running around spreading bullshit. It’s--it's more like there’s just two of them, and when one knocks the other out, I’ve got zero control over what he does." He shook his head again, face twisting as he rubbed one temple with his knuckles. "And I don’t want you to leave just because I can’t keep that fucker’s mouth shut."

A tiny smile tugged at your lips at the comparison, though it pained you deeply to see how much he was struggling inside his own mind. Even worse was the fear of being left behind that was written all over his face.

"I’m not leaving," you finally said quietly, chest aching as his eyes widened. "Like I said, I know what it’s like not feeling safe in your own head. I don’t care about this ‘issue’ you think you have going on. I’ve handled you this far, haven’t I?" You let out a strained chuckle before your expression grew serious again. "But I need you to talk to me. Whenever you feel like this… asshole minion of yours is about to take the lead, you need to say so." You raised your brows just a little, letting out another soft chuckle. "Maybe I can send over one of my own to knock some sense into that idiot."

"And I also need you to know," you continued, "whatever’s bothering you, or whatever’s weighing you down, you can share with me. You don’t have to let it eat you up just because you’re too proud or scared to let someone else in. That’s what friends are for. To help carry the load." You tilted your head with a troubled smile. "And clearly whatever happened in the past hour is weighing heavy on you, the way it’s got you so shaken."

Rafe just stared at you for a moment. Big blue eyes watching you like he couldn’t decide whether to actually let you in or shove you away.

Your heart ached deeply for this angry, broken boy.

Finally he shook his head, brows drawn into a bitter grimace. "This shit… no one can help me with. It’s fucked, it’s so fucking FUCKED." His face scrunched up, both palms pressing against his temples. "Shit's so bad I was this close to beating that bitch up."

Your brows twitched.

"Ruthie?" Somehow you already knew who he meant, and a bad, bad feeling settled in your stomach.

Rafe nodded with a bitter smile. "Of course fucking Ruthie." In a swift motion he gestured angrily toward the event venue. "I would’ve never gotten up and left if that bitch hadn’t pushed me to it."

Somehow that was both relieving and deeply concerning. Because if Rafe let Ruthie mess with his head, then shit must be really bad.

"Why? What did she want from you?" you asked, hugging your arms tightly as the cold breeze hit your bare skin.

Rafe frowned. "Doesn’t matter. Get back inside, you’re freezing."

Yeah, no shit. Been freezing since I came over to talk to Topper.

"It does matter," you said anyway, mirroring his expression. "What did she want?"

Rafe let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "That crazy bitch is blackmailing me, alright? Got a fucking video of me snorting coke at Kelce’s shitty-ass party and now she’s trying to make me do her bidding."

Your frown deepened. "Who—"

"Gracie took some dumb video of her bitch friends in the kitchen and I’m seen in the background. Clear shot of my face and everything," he said, pissed off and deeply frustrated. "Now fucking psycho Ruthie’s threatening to post it online if I don’t convince my dad to accept her father’s dumb-ass joint venture deal."

He shook his head hard, rubbing his temples like he was trying to physically to hold himself back from crashing out again. "But my dad’s already said no because it’s a shit offer. Only an idiot would agree to those terms." His face twisted into a pained grimace. "Already tried calling him but Wheezie said he’s at some corporate dinner tonight. It’s a fucking lost cause anyway, my dad will never say yes to that bullshit."

Jesus Christ.

That was seriously fucked. Like, next-level fucked.

Sure, everyone knew Ruthie was nuts, but blackmailing someone? Using Rafe’s addiction against him? Backing him into a corner until he had to numb the desperation and frustratioi with more coke?

FUCK. THAT.

"Fuck that bitch," you said, and Rafe’s head snapped up, clearly caught off guard. "You got proof of her blackmailing you?"

Rafe frowned. "Yeah, but it’s all in the same damn chat as the fucking video. If I showed that to the cops, I’d be turning myself in with it."

"Isn’t Topper’s mom a lawyer?" you asked, voice sharp with focus. "Maybe she could find a way around that."

"Shit, no," Rafe replied with furrowed brows, scratching his jaw. "Don’t need that crazy woman getting involved. She’d go straight to my dad, and it’d be the same fucking outcome." He rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head. "Can’t even stand to see Topper right now anyway. Fucker’s been glued to Ruthie and her little bitch squad all night. Probably even involved in this bullshit game."

You gave him a deadpan look. "Topper might be gullible and stupid when it comes to girls but he’d never stab his best friend in the back."

"He’s not my fucking best friend," Rafe snapped with a scowl.

"No, you’re right. That title definitely goes to Kelce," you said with a little chuckle before your face turned serious again. "But my point still stands. Topper would never do anything that would really hurt you."

Rafe rubbed at his eye, clearly worn out. "Doesn’t fucking matter. No matter what I do, I’m fucked. Only option’s getting my dad to accept that garbage deal."

Fuck no. Ruthie getting to pull off her little game and win? No fucking way. Just—no. Absolutely not.

"Even if you succeed, she still has that video," you pointed out. "She’ll just keep playing the same game. So you gotta beat her at it." You raised your brows. "Meaning: We need to get our hands on something worse than what she’s got on you and make sure that video gets deleted from her possession."

For the first time since Rafe’s crashout, his face lit up with an amused smile. He raised his brows. “‘We’?”

You nodded. “I meant it when I said you don’t have to deal with shit like this on your own.” A cheeky smile tugged at your lips. “Also, she kinda ruined our bonding moment, so I kinda feel like getting back at her.”

Rafe let out a disbelieving breath, that boyish smile spreading across his face. “Bonding moment.”

“Well, yeah. We were all cozied up and cuddling. I’d say that counts as bonding,” you replied, cheeks heating up, surprised you even dared to say it out loud.

And the chuckle that left Rafe’s lips was so sweetly boyish, it felt like a win in itself. He stepped closer with a lopsided smile and gently grabbed your shoulders, nudging you to turn around. “Aight then. Let’s get back inside and continue bonding.”

NJDHWANDJKHla WHAT.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and the feel of his hands on your shoulders. Still, you didn’t move, turning your head to look back at him with raised brows. “But the Ruthie situation.”

Rafe shook his head. “Bitch gave me until the Gloaming. I’ll figure that shit out later. Can't change shit right now anyway.”

“We,” you corrected him.

“Yeah, we are gonna go back inside and get you back under the blanket,” he said, nudging you forward. “I can feel the goosebumps through the fabric of your dress.”

You could swear he glanced at your ass for a second and that alone made your cheeks burn even hotter.

This guy was a menace.

His hand settled on your upper back as he guided you toward the entrance, his touch sending shivers up your spine.

“What?” he asked, clearly amused, as you stopped again.

You smiled sheepishly. “Uhm, pretty sure I heard one of the security guards say they’re gonna knock you out if you come back in.”

Also, his pupils were still blown but one could argue that’s just a natural reaction of eyes toward darkness.

Rafe scoffed, totally unfazed, and nudged you forward again. “My dad knows both of them. They’re not gonna do shit if they don’t wanna end up jobless for the rest of their lives.”

Not him flexing his dad like Draco Malfoy. Help.

“Jesus Christ, what now?” he frowned as you stopped again.

“Promise you won’t be mad at Topper,” you said, brows raised, waiting.

Rafe’s face twisted into a dramatic scowl. “That fucker—”

“Topper probably didn’t even do anything wrong,” you cut in. “Other than maybe seeing Ruthie as a potential love interest, but I guess that was just him trying to cope with Cara rejecting him.”

A sigh left Rafe’s lips. “Alright, alright. Now move. This shitty-ass car robot movie’s already starting.”

Transformers, dude.

“And you’re gonna apologize for punching him,” you added. “Because THAT was actually uncalled for.”

Rafe looked like you just insulted his entire existence. “Fuck that. I’m not about to crawl up that loser’s ass.”

Seriously.

“That’s not crawling up anyone’s ass,” you said with a frown. “It’s called being a decent human being. And a good friend.”

Rafe scoffed. “A good friend would beat his ass again just for talking to Ruthie in the first place. Might knock some damn sense into him.”

You stared at him deadpan. “I’d love to knock some sense into you."

Ah, shit. Here we go again.

Rafe’s lips curled into that cocky fucking grin but you beat him to it with a scowl.

“First of all: no to whatever you were gonna say,” you said dryly. “Second: stop trying to change the subject.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. I won’t beat him up again.”

You didn’t move a muscle, just stared at him expectantly.

Rafe frowned. “I’m not saying sorry.”

“You will. Otherwise, you can expect some bonding time with Cara and JJ cause that’s who we’ll be sitting with then.”

He looked at you like you’d grown another head.

“Fuck that,” he muttered, brows furrowed. “I’m not cozying up with some pogue rat.”

You shrugged. “Then have fun having the lounge bed to yourself because I will."

I won’t. And I don’t want to. No way I’m getting caught up in whatever they’d do under that blanket.

Rafe stared at you for a good ten seconds before sighing and rubbing a hand over his chin. “Fine. I might say I shouldn’t have punched him. Still not saying sorry.”

Better than nothing, you thought.

You raised your brows. “Promise?”

A dramatic sigh. Then: “Promise.”

With that, he placed his hand on your back again and nudged you forward one last time. Only this time, it had settled a little lower than before—dangerously close to your butt, for someone who’d agreed to a friendship yesterday.

But you didn’t complain. Didn’t flinch. Because maybe that was exactly where you wanted it to be.

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[natsaffection]

The Weight of You. | N.R

Older!Natasha x Younger!Reader

Warnings: AgeGap! (N= 32, R=22), Fluff, blood, character death

Word count: 2,3k

A/n: I was just in the mood for something soft again. There won’t be a part 2, just a little one-shot. Enjoy! 🫶🏼

There were few things in the world that could make Natasha Romanoff feel peace. Real peace. The kind that settled into her bones and stayed there, humming quietly beneath her skin.

You were one of them.

Natasha came home late that night. Another mission, another debrief, another carefully-worded SHIELD report she didn’t care to read. She was quiet when she stepped through the door, her boots barely making a sound on the hardwood. The apartment was dim, lit only by the warm flicker of candles on the coffee table. And there, buried under a pile of fluffy blankets on the couch, was you.

You had clearly tried to wait up. There was a half-eaten bowl of popcorn on the floor, your laptop still playing something soft and romantic. Your cheek was smushed against a pillow, mouth parted slightly in sleep, one arm flopped off the edge like a sleepy kitten. Natasha felt the smallest smile tug at her lips.

God, she’s cute, she thought. Then immediately: What has she done to me?

She moved quietly, slipping out of her jacket, careful not to wake you. But she didn’t get far, you stirred, blinking blearily, and gave the sleepiest, happiest little smile when you saw her.

“‘Tasha..!” you murmured, reaching out, fingers barely brushing Natasha’s wrist. “You’re home.”

“I am.” Natasha said, brushing a hand through her hair, still damp from the rain. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep.” you said, clearly lying, and then yawned so hard your eyes teared up. “Just resting my eyes.”

“Mm-hm.” Natasha teased, but she leaned down anyway, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Or..” you mumbled, tugging her down instead, “you could stay here with me.”

So Natasha stayed. Let herself be pulled into the cocoon of blankets and tangled limbs. You curled against her like it was the most natural thing in the world, legs thrown over hers, arms wrapped around her middle. Natasha ran a slow hand up and down your back, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath your skin.

“You’re always so warm..” you whispered, half-asleep again. “Like a sexy space heater.”

Natasha laughed quietly, the sound rare and real. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“Good.” you said proudly, nuzzling into her neck. “You deserve all the compliments. Even the weird ones.”

Another night, you ended up in the bathtub. It had been your idea, of course. After a particularly long week for both of you, you had pulled Natasha into the bathroom with a mischievous grin and a bag of pink bath salts that smelled like strawberries and vanilla.

“This is self-care.” you had declared. “Non-negotiable.” And Natasha, somehow, always found it impossible to say no to you.

Now you were submerged in hot, sweet-smelling water, Natasha with her back against the cool porcelain, you lying in front of her, head tilted back against her shoulder. The air was thick with steam and soft music played from a phone on the counter.

You had a ridiculous flower crown perched on your damp hair, an impulse buy from the store that you had insisted you needed.

“You look like a goddess..” Natasha said, voice low in her throat.

“I am a goddess..” you replied dramatically, striking a pose and nearly splashing water over the edge. “And you’re my mighty protector. My bodyguard-slash-lover-slash-personal foot rubber.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but her hands were already massaging gentle circles into your shoulders. “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”

“Don’t I know it.”

There was a silence then. Not uncomfortable, never uncomfortable, but one filled with quiet affection. Natasha pressed a kiss to your temple, breathing you in.

“You make everything feel easier.” she said, almost to herself.

You turned slightly, looking up at her with those wide, kind eyes. “You don’t have to be strong with me all the time, you know..” you whispered. “You can just…be.”

And Natasha, who had never in her life known what it was like to just be, felt something loosen in her chest.

This, cuddles on the couch, bubble baths and laughter, sleepy kisses and soft smiles, this was the life she never thought she’d have. The life she never thought she deserved. But you gave it to her anyway. Over and over again. And Natasha, for once, allowed herself to accept it.

It was in the way her eyes softened when you entered the room, how her posture, so often honed into a blade, became something tender in your presence.

You brought with you a kind of light that Natasha hadn’t known she needed. It wasn’t loud or demanding. It didn’t scorch. It warmed. A steady heat that thawed the ice buried deep in Natasha’s bones, the kind of ice that came from years of silence, from red ledger pages and missions that had no clean endings.

You were opposites in so many ways. You were warmth, laughter, soft hands brushing away the darkness. You were sunlit mornings and coffee that always tasted better because you made it. Natasha was shadow, precision, instinct. She was the one who checked the exits out of habit, who barely flinched at explosions, who knew twelve ways to break a man with her bare hands. And yet, when you touched her cheek and said, “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me.” Natasha almost believed it.

Everyone saw it. They saw it in the way Natasha would find you in a crowded room without even looking. In the way her hand would reach for yours under tables, just the brush of fingers like a secret shared in silence. They saw it in the rare smile that would bloom on Natasha’s face, small, fleeting, but real, when you told some dumb story about a grocery trip gone wrong or when you mispronounced some obscure Russian word on purpose just to tease her.

Steve once caught you in the kitchen late at night. You were wearing one of Natasha’s hoodies, too big on your shoulders, sleeves dangling past your wrists as you stirred tea. Natasha leaned against the counter, arms crossed, saying nothing, just watching you with that look. The kind of look that made Steve feel like he was intruding on something holy.

“She makes her laugh.” Steve said to Sam later that night. “Actually laugh. Like…full smile, relaxed shoulders, the whole thing.”

“I didn’t think Romanoff could do that.” Sam replied, eyes wide. “Thought she was permanently stuck on ‘deadly’ and ‘brooding.’”

But around you, Natasha wasn’t the assassin, wasn’t the spy, wasn’t the ghost of her past mistakes. Around you, she became someone else. Someone softer. Someone freer.

You never pried about the past. You knew it was there, knew it haunted Natasha in ways you’d never understand, but you never pushed. You just offered your presence like an open door, always waiting, never pressuring. And Natasha, who had spent a lifetime with secrets stitched into her skin, began to let them go, one at a time, like petals falling from a tired flower. She told you things. Little things at first. Then bigger ones. Then the things she thought she’d carry to the grave.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Natasha would wake from a nightmare, breath caught in her throat, fists clenched in sweat-damp sheets. And you would be there, whispering softly, wrapping her in arms that felt like home. “You’re here.” you would say, voice like silk. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

And Natasha would believe you. They were love in a world that didn’t always make room for softness. And yet, they carved it out anyway. Quiet, steady and real.

——

The sky over New York was burning.

Explosions bloomed in the distance like flowers made of fire. The streets screamed with sirens and the shriek of metal. Above, portals cracked the sky open, spilling Chitauri like insects from some rotted hive. Buildings crumbled. Cars flipped. Civilians ran, wide-eyed and bleeding, from the monsters that tore through their world like paper.

“Okay, who gave the aliens a cheat code?” you muttered, ducking behind a flipped taxi. “Ten out of ten for chaos, zero for originality.”

Natasha glanced at you, breathless. “Stay focused, Y/n.”

“I am focused!” you said, peeking out to shoot down a flying hovercraft. “But you gotta admit this feels a little too ‘Avengers..Endgame’ meets Independence Day? No?”

Natasha gave the smallest shake of her head, lips twitching. “Only you would be cracking movie references while New York’s being torn apart..”

“Yeah, well…” You turned to smile at her, cheeks flushed with adrenaline. “You love that about me.”

You turned, grinning, cheeks streaked with soot, blood speckling your jaw. Your eyes sparkled even in the carnage.

Natasha didn’t say anything. Just looked at you for a moment..really looked. Because even covered in ash, even armed to the teeth in a bulletproof vest and scorched gloves, you looked so young. You moved through it like it was a video game. Or that’s what you told yourself..

They moved. Together. Side by side, like always.

You were fast, light on your feet, quick with a blaster and quicker with your mouth. Natasha kept close, eyes scanning, watching your six. They worked seamlessly, like something rehearsed a hundred times over, but under the rhythm of their teamwork, Natasha felt it. That familiar weight in her chest. The one she only ever felt when you were in the field.

The fear. And then..They she saw it.

A little girl, no older than six, stood in the center of the street. Her arms were outstretched, face soaked in tears, hair tangled with ash. Behind her, a building groaned, a massive skyscraper whose side had been carved open by a leviathan moments ago. Smoke coiled from its wound. Chunks of rebar hung like ribs. And high above, a massive slab of concrete, easily the size of a truck, had cracked loose.

It was falling. Slow at first, then faster. Straight for the child.

“No…” you shouted before Natasha could grab you. You moved, too fast. Natasha’s hand snapped forward, trying to catch your wrist.

“W-What!” she barked. “Y/N, STOP-!”

Everything after that came in flashes. You sprinting through fire and smoke, your boots slamming the cracked pavement, your breath coming in frantic gasps. The child, frozen, screaming. The concrete slab above, snapping fully free with a sickening crack.

And Natasha running. “Y/N!!” she screamed, throat raw, sprinting as hard as she ever had. “STOP!!”

Time slowed, and you reached the girl, threw yourself forward, scooped her tiny body into your arms, and shoved her with everything you had. The child tumbled, safe.

You looked up, and the slab came down.

There was no sound at first. Just a sickening crunch that echoed like thunder in Natasha’s skull as the full weight of the stone hit you.

It didn’t bounce..It crushed. The world went quiet before it went cruel. It didn’t make a boom. Not at first. Just a sick, wet, final sound.

She turned her head away. Closed her eyes. Tried to erase it. Tried to unsee it. Tried to shove it into some corner of her mind where it wouldn’t shatter her.

You were gone. Natasha stopped. Stopped running. Stopped breathing. Her body jerked backward like she’d been struck. Her boots scuffed on the asphalt. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

No. That didn’t just happen. That didn’t-

She stayed like that for a breath. Maybe two. Then, slowly, trembling, she looked back. And the world split open. Beneath the massive slab of concrete, a pool of blood was spreading. Not a splash. Not a drop. A flood.

It seeped out from under the slab like oil, thick and dark, too much. Way too much. Crimson soaked into the gray pavement in slow, merciless ripples. Bits of fabric, charred and frayed, peeked out from under the edge.

The same fabric you had been wearing. No body. No movement. Just blood.. Everywhere.

Natasha staggered back a step, one hand clamping over her mouth. Then she dropped to her knees and vomited.

She retched hard, again and again, until her stomach gave nothing but bile. Her fingers scraped the pavement. Her breath hitched, caught, snapped.

She stared at the blood- your blood, and shook her head like a child refusing the truth.

“No. No no no no no-”

Then, the metal groaned again. The building above them, split open like a carcass, shuddered. Chunks of stone rained from the edges. The street trembled.

And still, Natasha didn’t move..She crawled forward on scraped hands and knees, toward the red..Toward the impossible.

“Y/n…” she whispered, voice cracked and broken. Steve appeared behind her and saw it. His face went pale, eyes wide, but he didn’t say anything at first.

He knew. He knew.

You were gone. Not buried. Not injured. Gone.

There was nothing left of you under that slab. Just blood. And Natasha, who still refused to believe it, reached the stone and tried to lift it. She pressed both hands against it, legs shaking, muscles straining, screaming in frustration.

“Come on, get up! Come on baby, you’re okay, you’re okay, just hold on, please-“

Steve stepped forward. “Natasha-”

“Don’t!” she shrieked. “She’s in there! She’s just hurt! I can get her, I CAN GET HER!”

“You can’t.” His voice cracked. “Nat..there’s nothing lef-“

“NO!!”

She turned on him, fists flying, hitting his chest over and over, screaming. “You don’t know that! You don’t KNOW! Let me- L-LET ME-”

But he grabbed her. Wrapped his arms around her and held tight. And when she finally collapsed into him, sobbing so violently she couldn’t breathe, he held her tighter..

The building began to collapse behind them. Dust surged like a wave, and still, she screamed for you.

Screamed like it would call you back from the dead. But there was no answer. Just blood on the pavement. And silence.

-

-

-

-

The End :)

Part 2 (ups)

[moonriizing]

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]

[jungwnies]

sfw alphabet | kimi antonelli (ka12)

୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : sfw a-z alphabet for kimi antonelli ୨ৎ : word count : 652

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

(a/n) : don't forget to like & reblog !! my requests are open!

a ⤖ affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

kimi is reserved in public but affectionate in private.

small touches mean everything

hand on your lower back, fingers grazing yours absentmindedly.

doesn’t always say i love you but always makes sure you know it.

b ⤖ beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

starts off a little distant but slowly warms up.

once you’re in his circle, he’s protective and reliable.

would probably start as a casual friendship through racing or mutual friends.

c ⤖ cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

not overly clingy, but when he does cuddle, he likes lying on his back with you tucked against his side.

if he’s exhausted, he’ll literally trap you under his arm and not let you move.

d ⤖ domestic (does he want to settle down; how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

sees a stable home life as something to work towards, not something to rush into.

can cook a few basic meals but would rather order in.

keeps things organized but not obsessively clean.

e ⤖ ending (if he had to break up with you; how would he do it?)

wouldn’t drag it out or play games.

he’d be direct and honest.

doesn’t handle emotional conversations well but wouldn’t avoid it.

f ⤖ fiance (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

believes in commitment but takes it seriously.

would want to really be sure before proposing.

g ⤖ gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

physically, he’s careful and controlled, always aware of his strength.

emotionally, he’s learning, shows support in actions rather than words.

h ⤖ hugs (does he like hugs; how often does he hug you?)

prefers quick, meaningful hugs unless he’s tired, then you’re not going anywhere.

i ⤖ i love you (how fast does he say he loves you?)

doesn’t say it quickly

he’ll show it before he verbalizes it.

j ⤖ jealousy (how jealous does he get? how does he react?)

he won’t make a scene, but his energy shifts when he’s jealous.

stays quiet but suddenly very close to you.

k ⤖ kisses (what are his kisses like?)

slow, meaningful, and lingering.

forehead kisses are his go-to.

l ⤖ little ones (how is he around children?)

a little awkward at first, but softens up quickly.

m ⤖ morning (how are mornings with him?)

not much of a morning person. prefers slow starts and quiet coffee.

n ⤖ night (how are nights spent with him?)

loves staying up watching something with you, even if you fall asleep first.

o ⤖ open (does he open up easily?)

takes time to trust, but once he does, you get everything.

p ⤖ patience (how easily angered is he?)

generally patient but has his limits, especially when frustrated.

q ⤖ quizzes (how much does he remember about you?)

remembers everything

favorite snacks, random facts, what makes you laugh.

r ⤖ remember (what is his favorite moment in the relationship?)

the first time you fell asleep on him, completely trusting him.

s ⤖ security (how protective is he?)

quietly protective, always making sure you’re okay.

t ⤖ try (how much effort does he put into things?)

always puts effort into the things that matter, especially when it comes to you.

u ⤖ ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

can be emotionally reserved, sometimes forgets to communicate feelings.

v ⤖ vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

keeps himself well-groomed but isn’t obsessed with appearance.

w ⤖ whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

wouldn’t admit it outright, but yes, you’re his calm place.

x ⤖ xtra (random headcanon)

always rests his hand on your thigh while driving.

y ⤖ yuck (what are his dislikes?)

hates unnecessary drama and loud, chaotic situations.

z ⤖ zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

sleeps best when you’re next to him, arms lazily wrapped around you.

2021-2024 © jungwnies on tumblr | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[dustyrkives]

Between Fangs and Firearms

PAIRING: Ada Wong x fem reader

PAIRING: RE4r Ada, age-gap (r is 19 while Ada is 30), predator/prey dynamic, r is a village girlie, innocent r, corruption, E2???, power imbalance, stalking, psychological manipulation, size difference, mercenary Ada, RE4 setting, dark! Ada, thriller, power play, i have a thing for dark villains, tension, non-con dynamic, fingering, clit biting, brief cunninglingus, unprotected s3x (wrap it before you tap it guys), rough sex, breeding, breeding kink, riding, overstimulation, multiple orgasms and that's about it, i think?

SYNOPSIS: Running is futile—but you do it anyway. Against a woman like her, survival is a fleeting hope, and mercy is a gamble. With every step, every breath, she’s right behind you—watching, waiting. And when she finally catches up… you realize the hunt was never yours to win. But you don't mind, do you? Not when she takes you–oh, so deliciously.

And sorry I didn't make her a wolf here, I originally wrote it like that, but it didn't work like I thought it would. But here's the complete product. I hope you all enjoy it!

Also because:

MEN DNI

You knew it was futile–running from a woman as experienced as her.

Still, you had to try for the sake of your village.

"She mustn't reach reach the scientist!" A villager snarls at you before charging with the rest of the ganados, thinking their numbers will overwhelm her.

Oh–how wrong they are.

Gunshots and explosions pierce the air like a tossed javelin as you keep running to warn the others. From above, you see something–someone zooms past you before a crimson blur lands before you, graceful, and holding an air of danger as her sharp, dark brown eyes drag over your figure.

This is the woman your village deemed as a threat?

She wore a red turtleneck long-sleeved dress, black tights, and thigh-high heel boots. Her gun was secured in her shoulder holsters. You don't know if red is just a bold statement of preference or to hide the bloodstains.

"Where do you think you're going?" Her rich, low voice reaches your ears.

You instinctively step back, oxygen stuck in your neck as your eyes flit over her shoulder as the woman observes you.

An inquisitive smirk graces her elegant features. "You seem different from the others I fought."

"K-killed, more like." You wince at the distant tone of your voice. Her smirk morphs into a dark smile, "You're going to warn the others, aren't you?"

Your insides compress as she strides towards you, "Where are you hiding him?"

"W-who?" You lie, and she knows it as she grabs her knife and quickly lunges at you. Instinctively, you stumble back–only to slip and fall to the ground while she has you pinned down, both your wrist bound by a single, gloved hand while the other presses the cold blade against your neck, a menacing gaze reflected by her knife.

"Choose your words carefully," The woman warns. "Where is Luis?" Tightening her grip upon feeling you tremble beneath her–and for a moment, you saw what you thought was excitement in her eyes before it vanished.

Gulping, you internally prayed for forgiveness as soon as your lips moved without thought, informing the foreigner of the scientist's whereabouts.

Her eyelids narrow, gaze sharpening, and you feel small beneath her scrutinizing gaze. "If you're lying," She purrs, "Your people will perish for it."

"It's true," You whimper, "I swear it!"

The former relents and returns to her feet, leaving you on the dirt as her eyes glower at you from above before pulling her device–some kind of grapple and pointing it to one of the old structures of the village before flying off.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding–gasping for air, you turn to your side. You have to warn the others–she already knows.

Curses befall your lips El Gigante falls unceremoniously against the mud.

The victor: the woman in red.

Almost immediately, she spots you. You watch, your faltering eyes holding her dark gaze as she approaches the fallen giant, pulling out her gun and shooting the wriggling parasite three times before turning her attention to you. Soaked and panting.

You flinch and hide behind the wall of one of the torn houses.

And like clockwork, she finds you. A gasp rips from your lips as she appears from the corner, mud, and blood staining her clothes as she examines her gun before slowly, painstakingly moving to your trembling figure. "Are you here to assist them again?" She mused as she used the gun to move your damp hair to the side of your face before holstering her gun.

"Pretty," The dark, brown-eyed woman mused. "You're the prettiest ganado I've ever seen, by far." She chuckles as her eyes rake you from head to toe, "Quite young, too."

"A-are you going to kill me?"

"Kill you?" Mirth etches in her expression–dark. "I'm not wasting bullets for a village girl."

Relief, confusion, and outrage fill your being. "I'm one of them. I'm just as a threat as they are."

The dark-haired woman snorts, and your face burns as you tear your gaze away from her. The air becomes heavy as she leans close–despite her being damp from the rain, you can smell her scent: cherry, smoke, and a bit of sweat.

Her voice drops an octave lower, and your body turns rigid. "A threat?" She guffaws, and your stomach churns uncomfortably as her gloved hand grasps your waist. "How can you be considered a threat when you can't even push me away?"

"So run." The stranger coos, "Run like the little bunny you are–before I change my mind, pretty girl."

Your legs obey her words as you run past her, bumping against her shoulders while the older woman merely smirks as her eyes follow after your retreating figure–knowing full well that you won't stray far from her.

And she isn't wrong.

Because minutes later, you're eavesdropping on their conversation while hiding behind a large decaying tree, just a few meters behind the woman in red. She bends down, conversing with the scientist that your village held captive.

“Always a stickler for details, huh, Ada?” You can see him reaching out for her to help him up.

Ada… so that’s her name.

There's a dark pull to her, Ada–that woman.

Between her aloof demeanor and confident poise, something is brewing inside those dark, calculating eyes of hers.

Is that why you're drawn to her?

You shake your head sideways as one of the elderly ganados tug your sleeve, "Come, she's in the hands of Ramon and his zealots."

You nod wordlessly before looking back, expression faltering before retreating with the rest of the villagers–but something tugs at you from behind. A frown graces your lips as the rest of the villagers walk past you.

I should move... She no longer concerns our village, and neither should I.

Regardless, you stay rooted to your spot.

Foolish, this is foolish! Your people would disown you if they knew you developed an interest in the enemy. You bite your lower lip before forcing your legs to follow after the townspeople. Halfway to the village, a nagging, hollow feeling gnaws within you.

It claws at your insides, craving to be sated–to be filled.

You lock your jaw, chest tightening as you swallow that feeling down.

Unacceptable. You should be ashamed of yourself.

But each step you take, the voice dwindles.

You're just a girl. She will have no use for you.

Yet still, another voice persists–one that you allow to be heard.

This village offers you nothing but rot and decay. Come to her.

You shudder, craning your neck to look around your surroundings. It's true. Crops are wilting, cattle are ill with disease and death, the rivers are poisoned, and so are the fish.

There's nothing for you here but death and a promise of macabre metamorphosis.

Against your better judgment, you sneak past the villagers, heading straight to Ramon's castle.

Foolish. You are foolish indeed.

Your thoughts berate you as you run past the zealots.

Of course, they're unwelcoming–even to their neighbors.

You yelp as an arrow whistles past you, narrowly missing the side of your face as you run into the castle halls.

Stupid, stupid, stupid–

Your thoughts come to an abrupt stop as one of them grabs your dress by the neck, yanking you back. Their sheer strength outmatched yours as one of them binds you from behind while the other lunges at you with a scythe.

You close your eyes as the weight of your poor decision comes aiming for your neck–

The discharge of bullets pierces through the castle walls, you close your eyes as one of the zealot's blood splatters against your face like a demented blush. The sound of bodies falling to the floor with a resounding 'thud!', then heels slowly tapping against the cemented ground. You didn't open your eyes until you caught the scent of leather, cherries, and smoke–a gloved hand grasping your jaw, making you look up at her.

Your heart lurches to your throat as your eyes meet hers.

"Now, what's a silly bunny doing here in a dangerous castle, hm?" Ada's dark chocolate eyes rake you from head to toe like a predator examining the quality of the meat before wiping the blood off your cheek with her thumb before leaning down, you close your eyes.

A velvety chuckle reverberates in her chest as her lips ghost against your ear, "You followed me, didn't you?"

You gasp as she yanks you close to her; authority oozing from her stance. "I don't know if you're brave or stupid." The latter murmurs as she presses her nose against your neck, inhaling your delicate scent. A pathetic whimper falls from your lips as her other hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against her–you instinctively push her away, but she tightens her grip.

"Not so fast, bunny." She rasps, her cold breath fanning against the available skin on your neck. "You came to find me, didn't you?" The older woman guffaws darkly.

"Isn't that why you're here?"

Slowly, her hand tugs the back of your hair, presenting your neck for her as her eyes look down at you. You wince at the action, eyes faltering but not once did you struggle.

And that makes the older woman smirk.

"Your people will have you hanged if they see you in my arms." She presses feather-like kisses against your neck, jaw, and collar. "But you don't mind, do you?"

Quickly, she effortlessly tosses you to a secluded room. Her steps are slow and steady as she pins you with her cold, piercing gaze.

"What to do with you," She ponders mockingly while you back away from her until the edge of the table comes in contact with your rear. The taller woman cages you with her lithe arms, trapping you.

"Should I reward you for finding me even if I'm the one who found you?" Another chuckle as her gloved hand hikes your dress, reaching for your right thigh as she leans down, your hands palm the tabletop as you instinctively lean back; your breath hitches as the pads of her fingers gently brush against the dampening spot in your underwear, red spreads all over your cheeks as she teases your clothed core.

"You reek of innocence, bunny," Ada coos, "You haven't been touched before, have you?"

Shameless, you nod, whimpering softly as she continues to rub you.

A predatory grin breaks through her lips, "Really?" Ada mockingly queries. "No one has touched you yet but me?"

You nod again, throwing your head back as she cups your clothed pussy. "Such a bad girl you are, letting a stranger touch you like this." She gently smacks your cunt, you yelp in bliss as it throbs in response.

"No matter," The mercenary pauses, "I tend to keep precious things." She hooks her index finger around the hem of your panties before teasingly dragging it down.

"And you're one of them now, bunny." Your pulse rings against your ears as you raise your leg, then the other for Ada to discard your underwear haphazardly against the floor as her lips find yours for a searingly slow kiss, swallowing your cries as her warm tongue explores your mouth, purposely ignoring your tongue before wrapping it against your own and sucked it, eliciting a moan from you.

She pulls away with a pant as her eyes zero down on your lips.

She raises her hooded eyes, her hands prying your legs open, and you moan as the cold wind nips at your dripping folds before her index finger swipes up at the seams of your pussy, collecting your slick and inserting it in her mouth, her tongue wrapping against her digit, sucking it clean while your shaky breath reaches her ears.

And the sight makes your knees weak as you reach up a shaky hand to touch her, Ada senses your hesitation and a subtle smile graces her features.

"It's okay, bunny, you can touch me." She murmurs as she removes the right glove by her teeth and discards the other, you gasp as her middle finger breaches your core. You instinctively held onto her, nails digging against her clothed back as she pumps her fingers.

"So warm," The older woman comments as she stops her fingers, you let out a pitiful whine, rutting your hips.

She scoffs and pulls her finger away before smacking your clit. "Behave, pretty girl." She warms, earning her a shameless whimper as she drops to her knees, her eyes on your sopping cunt, "Legs on my shoulders. Now, bunny."

Confused, you obey and rest your leg over her shoulder as Ada's hands grab your hips, anticipation coats your face.

Your brain short-circuits once her plump, red lips press against your pussy, giving it a sloppy kiss before her tongue reaches your entrance. Your hands reach for her roots as she makes messy circles around your aching clit in a tantalizing motion.

"A-Ah!" You cry out, toes curling as you nudge her face closer, hips jutting.

Ada growls, sending vibrations to your cunt. Your eyes roll back at the sensation as every yank and tug fuels Ada to bring you closer to your undoing.

Her face presses against your pussy with no intention of backing away; beads of sweat roll down your forehead, your body set ablaze with desire as she bites your clit, eliciting an embarrassingly loud moan while she begins sucking.

Each roll of her tongue tinkers with your bundle of nerves, gummy walls clenching around her tongue, her saliva mixing with your arousal. It drips form your thigh to the floor.

Her fingers dig against your thighs, locking you in place as she ravishes you like a woman-starved.

Your head tilts back as soon as Ada flicks her tongue and grazes her teeth on your clit. She pulls away and delivers a slap on your pussy, creating an obscene wet sound, ripping another moan from you while Ada's arousal-smeared lips twitch to a grin.

"Naughty bunny," She purrs and delivers another slap, "Do you want us to get caught?"

You pant, shaking your head sideways before she steals a kiss from you. "Good, control your moans, or I will gag you." She does it again, and again, and again until your pussy weeps, gushing with arousal. Tears eventually escape your eyes with frustration and pleasure.

And Ada loves it.

"What's the matter, bunny?" She coos and rubs your leaking cunt. "Need to cum?"

You meekly nod with a choked groan as two fingers enter your core, your walls welcoming them selfishly. "Tell me what you want, bunny. And I might give it to you."

You swallow the bile forming in your mouth and lock eyes at the domineering woman in front of you. "T-touch me, pl-please, Ada."

Ada blinks, surprised that you know her name, before grinning. "Oh, you cheeky little minx, you know my name?" She withdraws her fingers, maintaining eye contact as she laps your arousal on her digits, "Very well, since my bunny asked politely."

She presses her saliva-coated finger on your folds and rims it as if lubricating you. "Put your leg down for me, baby."

You obey, wincing as you put down your leg while she stands up. You watch as she removes the harness around her waist, falling to the ground with a crisp 'thud.' Her hungry eyes take you in as she hikes her dress, and you're met with the outline of her cock, her hand wraps around it, pumping the appendage as your eyes shamelessly trace the ridges and veins surrounding the muscle. The tip is engorged and red as it leaks out pre-cum.

She pried your legs open, spreading it for her as she settled in between them, "Is my bunny ready?"

"Y-yes," The older woman hums and grabs both your thighs and wraps them around her waist, "Such a good girl you are." She looms on top of you, the tip poking at your entrance before lubricating it with her pre-cum and sliding inside.

You held her, moaning against her neck as you felt her veins throb inside you with want. The woman groans, her palms landing on the table as she pushes her cock in, filling you to the brim.

Moan after moan befalls from your lips as she rolls her hips, the obscene sounds of wet smacking resonate in the study while she drags her cock inside your convulsing walls. Your hands scramble to her back, nails digging against her skin with every thrust of her hips.

"So wet and warm, bunny." Ada huffs, "All for me?"

Your toes curl with every hit, and your head is thrown back–Ada chases your neck with bites and kisses, her swollen lips grazing the skin before biting down. Harshly. Marking you as hers–but that's only the beginning.

You let out a yelp, walls clamping around her rock-hard dick as pain and pleasure shoots through your spine.

Your owner growls, sending vibrations down your neck as her hips angled higher, and thrusting deep. Your legs wrap around her waist, heels digging against her ass as she fucks you into the desk, your back pressed against the cold wood, sweat blanketing both of your bodies while the table creaks underneath your ministrations.

Ada's thrusts are relentless and blinding. She pulls out slowly before slamming back in. Your eyes roll back, a wanton moan ripping from your throat while she flushes your lips together.

She leans down to connect her lips with yours, tongue breaching as she greedily swallows your cries for pleasure.

"F-fuck!" You whimper as she pulls away and bites your shoulder with a soft growl, your walls clamp around her dick, and rolling your eyes to the back of your skull when the bulbous head pokes your cervix, she rocks her hips back and forth while you try to desperately meet her thrusts.

"Look at you," She coos while your nails drag down her back, "Such a poor bunny."

Her pre-cum mixes with your arousal, most of it dripping on your folds, and her cock throbs, reveling around the tight, snug fit. Small whimpers escape your lips as you get used to her dick, splitting you open.

Ada's eyes darken as she moves her hips with a sharp thrust, and absolute filth falls from her mouth.

"Want me to give you little bunnies, hm?" She moans softly and pushes her hips deep, "Can you handle it, baby?"

She groans when your walls consistently clamp around her, an impending sign of release. A knot in your stomach forms. "Close, hm?" Ada gruffs as she jogs her hips.

You nod weakly as you throw your head hard against the table. White hot pleasure sporadically takes over. You let out a scream, and Ada muffles it with her hand. Powerful gushes of liquid spilling out of you as your pussy spasms around her cock. The woman above you moans as she fucks you through your high, not caring about the amount of fluids you've wasted.

Her cock throbs, veins rubbing deliciously against your quivering walls–twitching before spurting out her hot seed. She didn't stop moving her hips, fucking you through her orgasm.

Your legs shake, toes curling.

Her hips slam against your own, quivering as she fucks you raw with need and desire. Your swollen lips chant her name like a prayer while Ada's body bristles with lust. Her lips meet yours for a kiss before pulling away.

"I want more, bunny." She grinds her hips, "And I want you to ride me."

Without waiting for a reply, she lifts you by the waist without pulling out.

Each step pushes her cock against your gummy, used walls until she settles on a settee, your legs flanking her thighs.

"Move your hips, bunny." She commands and delivers a sharp slap on your ass. A pathetic sob leaves your lips as you grab her shoulders. "D-don't know how..."

The older woman clicks her tongue before grabbing your hips, cooing at you mockingly, "You don't know how to? We can't have that, can we? I promised you little bunnies, after all."

She guides your hips, eyes never leaving yours as she sets the pace again. Your hips shamelessly move with hers while overstimulation rings all over your body, Ada doesn't heed it as she wraps her arms around your waist, mumbling praises.

"You're doing so well, bunny." The dark-haired girl presses a kiss on your jaw, "Taking me and my cum so well."

You bite your lower lip as the angle makes Ada feel bigger and push deeper. "T-too much, A-Ada, too much–"

"You can take it," Her voice drips with a threat before softening her tone. "Aren't you a good girl?" You whine and nod as she fastens her pace. "Good, harder now, bunny."

You obey the older woman, jogging your hips firmly as you ride her. You can feel your mixed essences trickle down on her hips as you fuck yourself on her cock while Ada watches with twisted delight; thrusting her hips up while you move yours down.

She shifts her hips and guides your hips to slam on hers, you hide your face in the column of her neck as the sound of wet, skin-slapping echoes in the room, you pull away from her neck to look at the woman and you are met with a beautifully sinful sight.

Some of her bangs stick to her forehead, and her lipstick is smudged–no doubt most of it was pasted on your lips, s thin sheen of sweat covers her body as if trickles down to her neck and collarbone. You lean down to press a gently kiss on it.

Ada groans and tugs your hair back, "Faster, bunny."

You obey and ride her harder, Ada purrs in satisfaction as you destroy yourself on her dick, your walls convulsing before your eyes roll back, and you finish without warning. Ada watches with amusement as she watches you tremble, she holds you close.

"Done already?" She chuckles before adjusting your position, making you lay on the settee with her on top of you, "I suppose my bunny is tired." The latter jogs her hips, "But I'm not, now hold onto me, pretty girl. I'll take it from here."

A weak moan leaves your lips as she drags her hips, your belly bulges with her cock as she bullies it, spraying with cum and arousal–the smell wafts in the air as she takes you again.

Her hands palm your lower belly, eliciting a groan from you as your juices leak out.

"Mine," Ada smirks before pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Her arms snake around your waist, lifting you closer to her. The filthy squelch echoes in the room, Ada groans as she feels her bulging cock against your pussy, trying to make room for her; her sheer length prodding at your insides.

Your hips buck against hers as she slams back and forth, her cock nudging all your soft spots–the overwhelming feeling sends you overdrive while your new lover fucks you with urgency, completely fueled by the previous orgasm and the way you squirm as her pelvis rubs against your sensitive clit.

"You're mine," She swears with every thrust. "This pussy is mine, got it, bunny?"

"Y-yours!" You weep as Ada fucks you vigorously, too lost in your own pleasure as your orgasm sneaks in with no warning. A particular thrust right against your sweet patch, pushing you once more. A silent scream, but Ada felt it as your hands crumpled her red turtleneck dress, almost tearing the cloth while your pussy convulses, milking aggressively against her cock.

Ada moans, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she stills her hips, cock twitching uncontrollably as she spurts cum once again, you sob, feeling full, so full to the point that it basically leaks out of your used pussy.

"There's my bunny," The older woman grins and caresses your cheek as soon as you fall limp onto the settee. She settles in your legs, making sure her seed stays in as she looks at your fuck-out state.

"After my transaction with Luis, I'm taking you with me." Ada purrs as she caresses your lower belly. She lays on top of you, arms possessively trapping you against her.

"And after you give birth to my little one, I'll give you another."

[iammclovinn]

ew, i love you

summary: fans find out lando have a girlfriend of 3 years (and 6 months) (fluff) (not proof read & lowercase intended) (smau & requested!)

pairing: lando norris (4) x fem!reader

content warning: cursing, reader is kinda unserious, this went so off plot i’m sorry to whoever requested this 😭😭

note: second smau, and also the last request in my inbox meaning that my request will be open again!! this went on for a LOT longer than i expected, hope y’all enjoy 😽

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youruser

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liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and 10,647 others.

youruser the pic in the middle is lit me and lando

comments are limited

lando: LOL

oscarpiastri: 😂😂😂

yourfriend: girl bye 😭😭

youruser: stay mad 🤪🤪

liked by lando, yourfriend, and 3,329 others.

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1 new text from lan!

7:13 pm

lan : r u gonna come to canada?

you : mmmm maybe

lan : …

you : ???

lan : i’ll pay for ur ticket?

you : k sure!

you : no but seriously idk cuz i’ll have to take time off of work

lan : 2 weeks notice?

you : so no!

you : that would mean i’m quitting 😬✌️

lan : i LITERALLY make millions, we’ll be fine

you : god forbid a woman wants to be independent :/

lan disliked a message!

you : anyways, i told my boss i’ll be out sick

lan : omg, lying to ur boss? you dirty dog…

you : no ill be sick of you within 2 mins

lan : 🫤

you hearted a message!

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youruser

liked by lando, yourfriend, and 6,873 others

youruser dear diary, today i caught my man chopping bare tings on dundas square, is he dum?! he’s moving suuuppperrrr ways, so bag 🤮✌️

comments are limited

lando: we didn’t even go to dundas square???

yourfriend: is he bothering you queen?

youruser yourfriend: yes 🥺💔 plz save me

liked by yourfriend, oscarpisatri, and 1,736 others

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lando added to his story

“finally back with my girl 🧡”

replies:

youruser: mmm i guess who……

lando: 🫣🫣🫣

oscarpiastri: finally getting some?

lando:🖕🏼

danielricciardo: you’re cheating on me?

lando: it’s not what it looks like :/

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user1 tweeted: apparently lando has a girlfriend?? what?!? 😭😭

user2 replied: also, apparently they’ve been together for like 3 years?????

user3 replied: damn yall nosy 😭😂

user4 replied: did yall not see her in the garage this weekend? she is stunninggggg

user5 replied: yesss, and the way she guided him to his drivers room so the cameras didnt overwhelm him???? queeennnnn!!

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lando

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liked by youruser, danielricciardo, and 1.2 mil others

lando entirely grateful for this woman in my life. thank you so much for supporting me through everything, especially after this weekend. happy 3 years and 6 months, i love you 🧡

comments have been limited

youruser: omg ew i love you

lando: i’ll take it, i love you too 🫡

liked by youruser, user4, and 1.1 mil others