#just want to say that this blog takes place in the game just before the first chapter
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hey there, my name is Nagito Komaeda. feel free to ignore me if it seems fit...
I created this blog just because i heard some good things about this place, seems nice. might post updates sometimes, maybe ramble... my apologies if i seem a little odd, i truly have good intentions...
#(ooc in these tags btw) hiiiii helloooo !!!! got bored of life so made a komaeda rp blog!!!!!#feel free to send asks#i love answering asks theyre so fun <3#abt me specifically all there is to say is im a silly nagito kinnie who cant get over him#nagito komaeda#super danganronpa 2#danganronpa#nagito#just want to say that this blog takes place in the game just before the first chapter#no clue why he has a phone..
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Knights and Princesses (Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader)
One of the younger students at the school asks you and some other X-men to play a game of pretend. And a certain blue elf takes it as a chance to be a charming little dork. (shameless Kurt x Reader fluff w Scott and an unnamed x-baby making an appearance)
A.N. So, this was actually written many, many years ago on an old blog of mine but I've been wanting to write some Kurt stuff again, so I decided to dust it off, revise it, and post it here. Hope you enjoy!
The reader is called "princess" and is described as wearing a dress, but no other descriptors are present.
Kids were something else, you muse as you smooth out the creases in your elaborate outfit, particularly the children at Xavierâs school. You liked kids but one little tot had taken a great liking to you, she was about six and was always roping you into playing pretend with her. You didnât mind, after all, who could say no to an excuse to act like a kid again? And if these little games between your harrowing missions made you and the girl smile, who were you to say no?
But, as you stand at the top of the main staircase, dressed in a pink, lacy princess dress, you wonder if you had to invest in proper costumes for the sessions of make-believe.
The dress was too small for you, the skirt not even going to your knees, and you had to leave the back unzipped just to fit in it; but it made the little one happy to see you oblige her wanting to play âKnights and Princessesâ by playing the latter. You had naturally wanted to be the knight with her, but that role had been given to none other thanâŠ
âOh Princess of Xavier castle, we are here to rescue you!â called a dramatic and accented voice from the bottom of the stairs. You watched as Kurt and the little one leaped from the shadows, both donning knightly costumes and plastic swords.
That was your cue, you step out and place your hand on the banister at the top of the grand staircase. âOh my brave knights!â you cried in a wavering, simpering tone. Hey, if you were stuck as the princess, might as well have some fun, right? âPlease, you must run and save yourselves!â
âKnightâs never run!â the girl shouted with pride, puffing out her chest.
âWhat she said!â Kurt confirmed.
âBut, my heroes, you donât understand! Thereâs a fearsome dragon- and heâll surely destroy both of you!â You paused, but nothing happened. âI said.â you repeated, far more sharp this time, âHeâs sure. To destroy. Both of you!â
âRawer.â came a flat voice from the other side of the stairs.
Scott came out into the open, dressed in a cardboard and crayon-colored attempt at a dragonâs costume you and the mini knight had made to fit him. He had wanted to be a knight too, but folded like a cheap suit the moment the girl gave him the Big Sad Eyes and asked him to be their dragon.
Surprisingly, despite his flat tone, he wasn't doing too bad.
"Who dares enter my castle!" he said, ending with a much better roar than his first.
The little girl yelled dramatically âThe Knights of the X Table, that's who! Now get back, you nasty beast! You wonât terrorize the princess any longer!â
" 'Nasty'? Well, that's a little uncalled f- AH!" Scott's mumbling was cut off as the tiny knight charged, swinging her sword wildly.
âSir Kurt, you get the princess to safety, Iâll deal with the creature!â She called back as Scott the dragon let out another yell and ran for the next room.
Kurt looked up at you with a wink, âMy pleasure!â and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.
He reappeared next to you, that wicked grin displayed brilliantly on his face. His tail gripped the back of your dress and pulled, effectively causing you to spin into his arms. You couldnât help the heat rising in your cheeks as his face neared yours.
âAre you ready, meine Prinzessin?â he asked in a low, almost intimate tone. But before you had time to reply with anything but flustered mumbles, he pointed his sword at the sky and yelled âFear not, your Highness, for I shall throw you to safety!â
That got your attention âWait âthrowâ!?â
Before you could free yourself of the elf, he lifted you into his arms and the gesture would have been romantic, if he had not immediately tossed you over the banister.
You only had time to scream something along the lines of âIâll run you through with that plastic sword, Wagnerâ before you were engulfed in black and purple smoke. Next thing you knew, Kurt was crouching on the ground floor holding you closelyâŠand barely concealing his teasing chuckles!
âCome now, Liebling, did you really think I would let you get hurt?â He asked, obviously still amused at how shocked your face was.
âYou could have warned me,â you crossed your arms, but even you knew all he had to do was smile to be forgiven.
âAh, but where would be the fun in that?â
You rolled your eyes, but then the voice of Kurtâs fellow knight in cardboard armor came from the other room. âSir Kurt, have you gotten the princess yet!?â
âOh, my dear knight, thank you for freeing me from that awful tower!â you cried, falling back into character easily and making sure the little one heard you.
âOf course, my fair damsel,â Kurt replied in that theatrical voice, but then âanything for you,â he added in that same low tone he used before. âYou know, usually the prince gets a kiss in reward when saving a damsel in distress.â
âIs that so?â You ran your hands up his chest and leaned in so your lips were just a breath apart. âWell, my princeâŠâ you swore you heard him draw in a breath and hold it, anticipation simmering- right before you snatched the plastic sword from his hand and jumped to your feet. âYou'll have to get your kiss after we defeat the dragon!â
The look on his face was priceless as you winked at him and turned towards the next room. You brandished the sword proudly and charged towards the mini knight and Scott the dragon, yelling like a Shakespearian actor about how the beastâs days were numbered.
You didnât see the look of complete adoration etched on Kurtâs face as he watched you, tail swaying dreamily behind him. After allowing himself a smitten sigh, he stood straight and pulled a second plastic sword from his belt.
"Wait for me!"
...
Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!
#kurt wagner x reader#nightcrawler x reader#deeja writes#x-men reader insert#reader insert#comic book kurt x reader#x men x reader
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TITLE: Play Bite
PAIRING: Hyunjin x Jisung x female reader
SUMMARY: You, Hyunjin, and Jisung have a really fun time playing a dirty truth or dare game after the plans for everyone to go out failed. Part 1 to the 'Play' series.
WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I wonât be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.
Part 1 - Play Bite Part 2 - Play Fight Part 3 - Play Right
TAGS: Hyunjin, Jisung, and reader have all consumed alcohol but are not fully drunk, smut, kissing, hickies, making out, dirty texts, dirty talk, erotic truth or dares, use of pet names such as 'bub', 'baby' and 'pretty', swearing, food play (nothing heavy), solo orgasm, female masturbation, suggestive material, very vague mentions of choking (not emphasised), slight traces of top!Jisung.
MASTERLIST
A/N: Think of this as a prelude to this hard thought I posted a while ago. If you haven't read it, it will give you some context into what will come in the future for this type of concept. Also just to preface but not give away too many spoilers, nobody is cheating in this story.
-
âRemove one piece of clothing, socks do not count,â Jisung reads aloud from the card in his hand.Â
Itâs the third task into the deck of dirty truth or dare at Hyunjin's apartment. After the entire groupâs plan to go out for the night fell through when it started pelting down, it was in all three of your guysâ best interests to not waste the night. So, although he invited the rest of the group over for drinks, only you and Jisung decided to go around.Â
An hour later into the night and already just past the point of tipsy, the three of you progressed to playing games. A set of dirty truth or dare cards was the first thing that caught Jisungâs keen eye as he analysed the plethora of games that Hyunjin had on a shelf in his living room.Â
âYouâre not even wearing socks, so you have no choice,â Hyunjin chuckles, almost evilly.
Jisung dons his best thinking face, eyes narrowing as he tries to come up with which item of clothing he wants to take off. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the entire fabric up and over his head before placing it beside him, careful not to knock over his drink.Â
Your eyes glue to his gorgeous bare top half for a few seconds too long before averting them to the floor like you werenât supposed to look at him. Itâs not like youâve never seen him topless before in all of his honey toned glory. Almost always will Jisung proudly walk around half naked unprovoked when youâre around him.Â
âYour turn bub,â he continued.
You clear your throat then lean over to pick a card up from the middle, then read it out loud, âohâŠâ
âWhatâs it say?â Jisung peeks his head over to see whatâs written down before his jaw unhinges. âLet the person to your left select an area of your body for them to give you a hickey. Wow.â
Hyunjin, to your left, stares back at you in shock and horror. His cheeks were ballooned and full of liquid after taking a large swig of his drink before setting it down. The more silent seconds that tick by, the more flips his stomach keeps doing. But, he had to expect the unexpected with this game.
You and Jisung were ready to play by the rules and Hyunjin wasnât going to exempt himself from it just because of the card you pulled.Â
He swallows the mouthful of alcohol, âalright. Are you okay with me doing this?â
You nod even though you can feel your heart picking up its pace, âI am.â
He takes your answer and runs with it then ponders on the best place to plant a hickey on your body. It doesnât take him long to think of a number of unspoken places where he would and even though heâs tipsy enough to disclose those areas, he decides to keep that to himself.Â
âOkay, can you lie down for me then?â He asks.Â
âLie down?â
âMm, otherwise it might be awkward to reach,â he explains vaguely.Â
You start jumping to conclusions at the instant you hear his request, yet your mind is so hazy that your body just ends up listening to what Hyunjin has asked of you instead. You end up lying back on the floor, your head next to Jisungâs thigh who looks down at you while Hyunjin moves.Â
His long body straddles yours but not fully putting his weight down on you. With his hand, he pulls back some of your hair so he can reach the area he wants before gently tilting your chin up and to the side towards Jisung.Â
Hyunjin then sinks his face down just to the side of your throat and sucks. For a second, your body squirms at the slight achy pang that he brings to the surface of your skin. Still, with the way that your body is buzzing, it undoubtedly feels amazing. He remains there for a few seconds and uses his tongue to swipe over the surface he just marked. Â
Jisung watches with his mouth ajar. He takes in the contorted look of concentration on your face, the way your eyelids flutter closed.Â
Itâs not long after until Hyunjin peels himself off of you then takes your hand to help you sit back up again. In hindsight, you wonder if it was all but necessary to lie down for him in order to give you a hickey. But Hyunjinâs thinking was that to reach your throat, you had to be on the ground.Â
âThat mightâve been-â his face contorts with worry just looking at the fresh, deep and reddish mark. âA bit much, sorry.â
âItâs fine,â you respond, trying to act cool under the pressure. âIt felt nice anyway. Okay, Hyunnieâs turn.âÂ
He draws another card, reading it in his mind before his eyes dart to Jisung, âmake outâŠwith the person beside you for one minute.â
âW-Which side?â You ask.Â
âMy left which is-â
âMe,â Jisung responds, pointing at his chest. âAlright then.â
Hyunjin stares blankly at his friend, unsure if he's joking or not, âwait, youâreâŠyouâre serious?â
Jisung shifts his body closer to Hyunjin, his face nearing him, âthatâs the game right?â
âY-Yeah,â he replies sheepishly. âYeah, okay then.â
âI can set a timer,â you announce.
Heâs never done this before - kissed a friend, made out with a friend. For one, Hyunjin knows Jisung has done so multiple times, having been an impartial witness to it. Whether it was while Jisung was drunk, sober, high, it happened. Even with the same gender.Â
âAlright,â you say, pulling out your phone as you go to the clock app to set a timer for one minute and place it on the ground. â3, 2, 1, go.â
Youâre not sure who it was first that leaned in for the kiss after being so warped by the fact that they were even doing this. It was like Hyunjin offered his mouth and Jisung went for the kill. Both of them started off slowly by the time ten seconds hit. Twenty seconds in and Hyunjinâs hand comes up to the side of his friendsâ face when the kiss deepens even further.Â
You watch the glide of their tongues move so languidly with one another, doing unspeakable things in between your legs. Similar to Jisungâs reaction when Hyunjin gave you a hickey, your mouth was on the floor. Thereâs no way in hell could you ignore how hot it was to see them make out.Â
After forty seconds, the pace had picked up a notch as they continued to move in sync with one another. Jisungâs hand had made it onto Hyunjinâs lap with some unintentional plan of slowly hiking up his thigh. In his mind, the more touch, the better. He already felt floaty because of the alcohol. Now Jisung touching him, kissing him, was an enhancement.Â
At the mark of one minute, your phone rudely blares its alarm. Hyunjin pulls away with red lips, Jisungâs as equally as glossy as the other. They stall for a second, almost as if they briefly thought about going back at it againâŠ
âMinho was right,â Jisung breaks the silence willingly. âYou are a pretty good kisser.â
âWhat?â Hyunjin exclaims, his eyes almost popping out of his head.Â
âWhat?â He whines. âHe and I were trying to figure out who in the group would be the best kisser. Minho reckons you are.â
âYou say that as if youâve kissed everyone in the group to try and find that out,â You realise.Â
âWell I just kissed him, so itâs everyone except for you now. Which thereâs still time for since itâs my turn now,â he responds in a slightly hopeful tone and picks up his next card. âHuh, maybe not - whatâs the most amount of times youâve had sex in one day?âÂ
âIs that the first truth question?â Hyunjin points out, trying to subtly keep himself calm after what just went down with Jisung.Â
âI think so,â you reply. âWeâre nowhere near halfway through the deck.âÂ
âThree and a half,â Jisung answers.Â
âAnd a half?â You and Hyunjin parrot in unison, the confusion very present in both of your tones.
âHalfway through the act, got caught, had to wrap it up and leave,â Jisung explains very succinctly. âIt wouldâve been four if it werenât for fucking Seungmin. Doesnât matter, itâs not like Iâm holding a grudge or anything.â
âSure,â you trail off, trying your best not to laugh at his misfortune while you go to pick up a card. âUh, lend your phone to the person on your right and let them send a dirty text to someone in your contacts.â
Jisung claps excitedly, âhand it over baby!âÂ
You roll your eyes, reluctantly passing him your device, âanyone except my family otherwise I probably wonât live to see another day.âÂ
He takes your phone earnestly with a cheeky and devious expression before delving righteously into your contacts list, âdonât worry, I wouldnât do anything like that.â
Jisungâs thumb scrolls excitedly trying to find the right person to send the right message to. He pauses over a couple of names and then finds one he thinks will give the most entertaining response. He creates a new message and types in what he wants to say. Â
From You: Iâm horny. Come over and fuck me.
The silence was palpable as the fate of your dignity rests in your friendsâ hands. Once the message is sent, Jisung keeps your phone on standby while you all wait for the response. The sheer riskiness of the dare calls for you to pick up your drink and finish the rest off, knowing that youâre going to need it.Â
âWhat did you write?â You ask him anyway, setting your empty glass aside.Â
He looks smugly at the screen again and repeats what he created, âIâm horny, come over and fuck me.â
Your eyes widen in horror, ât-thatâs notâŠwho did you send that to!?â
âThatâs a bit straightforward isnât it?â Hyunjin laughs.Â
âDoesnât matter now, your turn, go,â Jisung nods to you.
âFine,â you groan, snatching up a card. âHow many times a day do you get off? Once, maybe twice. Done. Next, you go.âÂ
Hyunjin blinks in surprise at the information you so rapidly provided and leans into the circle to grab his card, âalright. Choose one person to sit in between your legs for the remainder of the game.âÂ
âI think considering that he and I just made out, itâs your turn to do something now,â Jisung smoothly contends his point before you could even get a word out.Â
âFair enough,â you respond coolly.
The move is practically childsplay in comparison to what theyâve done so far. Nonetheless, it quickly proved itself to be rather effective on your body.Â
Hyunjin tries not to grin and spreads his legs for you to slot perfectly in between them. Youâve been this close to him before - in a hug at least. But never has Hyunjin been as acutely intimate with you as of right now. As heâs pressed up behind you, itâs hopeless to try not to be so affected by such subtlety. The warmth from his body glows like a heater onto your back and the steadiness of his breathing is comforting.Â
âSungieâs turn,â he says from behind you.Â
Another card is taken from the deck and Jisung reads once more, âfeed someone a food item with your mouth. Okay, but what kind of food?âÂ
âThereâs that bowl of grapes just there on the coffee table,â Hyunjin points over to it.Â
Jisung spins around on the floor and sees the assortment of snacks that they had laid out on the table earlier on. He turns back with the entire silver bowl in his lap, popping a couple of them in his mouth and eating away to his heart's content before proceeding with the dare.Â
âYouâre breathing heavy,â Hyunjin whispers teasingly in your ear while Jisung isnât looking.Â
âS-Shut up,â you utter back to him, trying not to act so utterly embarrassed by the truth heâs managed to highlight.Â
Jisung pops in two more grapes and goes to sit beside you before talking with his mouth full, âboâ oâ ya.â
âHuh?â Hyunjin retorts, trying to decipher what his friend is saying.Â
You ponder for a second, âI think he said both of us?âÂ
Your guess comes up as correct because without a proper verbal answer from Jisung, his actions spoke louder. He leans towards your face first - closer than it has ever been since youâve known him. The purple grape sits between his teeth as he goes to pass it to you by his mouth. It was awkward to manoeuvre at first, but the pair of you discovered that using your lips is key. By that point, Jisung manages to exchange the fruit as you crush down on the grape that explodes with such a sweet flavour.Â
Then, he moves a bit behind you to reach Hyunjin. Both of them struggle to pass the grape without fully touching each other's lips once more. Then again, that was the point of the card that Jisung pulled.Â
âYummy?â he asks, sliding back to his original spot with the bowl.Â
âMm,â Hyunjin hums while he chews. âSweet.âÂ
Half of the stuff that youâve done so far with them makes you realise that youâre not that nervous to do these kinds of things. It couldâve been the alcohol, that definitely helps. But also because theyâre two of your best friends and wherever they are, you feel safe in their proximity.Â
âMy turn,â you say as Jisung picks the top card off of the deck and slides it to you across the floor. âOh - same as Sungieâs, remove a piece of clothing, socks do not count. Isnât this just a forfeit card since itâs already been picked up?â
âNo, not necessarily?â Hyunjin answers. âPlus, what if you forfeit that one and pick another one but itâs worse?â
He had a good point. It was a very mellow dare in comparison to the others youâve all completed. With that in mind, your hands find their way down to your shorts, contemplating whether to take them off or not. Considering Jisung already has his top off, you went for the opposite in a sudden spur of confidence that was short lived when you saw the look on your friend's face.Â
Jisungâs eyes couldnât leave where your hands moved as you freed your legs from the fabric, allowing you to remain in your underwear. However, it becomes very apparent to you that taking your pants off wasnât such a good idea when you know that youâre wet. Whether they knew it, particularly Jisung who had a full view of you, was too late.Â
Behind you, Hyunjin was trying to keep himself calm as you moved around a bit, âw-whoâs turn is it now?âÂ
Jumping onto a different topic gave time for Jisung to blink away from your body. He feels guilty for even staring at you like that in the first place. Then again, itâs not like you werenât doing the same ever since he took his shirt off.Â
âYours actually,â you answer and without any spatial awareness whatsoever, you lean forward just a bit to pick up a card for Hyunjin that your ass slightly pushes back into his crotch in the process.Â
After the fact of the matter, you realise what youâve done. But it wasnât intentional. You just wanted to pick up a card for him so that he didnât have to move from behind you. As you come back to sit between his legs properly, you feel his forehead rest against the back of your head - a silent sign to prove he definitely recognised what you did to him.
Although he didnât say anything because what was there to say to that? In hindsight, it mightâve been better forJisung to just read it out for Hyunjin.Â
âH-Here,â you offer the card to him, playing it off.Â
He lifts his head back up from yours and takes the item, âwhat is your dirtiest fantasy and why?âÂ
Right now if Hyunjin was able to answer honestly, he would say âfucking you while his best friend watches.â But even for a filthy game that theyâre playing, he thought it would be inappropriate to say. On top of that, itâs not actually his dirtiest fantasy. He could do way worse but just doesnât know what at this point in time in his sex life. There was still time for him to exploreâŠ
âI havenât really got one at the moment,â says Hyunjin. âI suppose just realâŠrough sex.âÂ
Jisung immediately becomes intrigued, oblivious to the fact that Hyunjin had it in him to admit such a scandalous piece of information, âwhat does that mean to you though?â
He becomes even more flustered under the heat of his friendsâ question, it doesnât help that heâs nearly fully hard behind you either, âit means things likeâŠchoking or hair pulling-â
âWhatâŠyou like to do those things or those things being done to yo-
âBoth, I like both. Anyway, thatâs not the question,â Hyunjin interrupts impatiently. âJust move on.âÂ
Itâs difficult for you not to laugh at him, yet as you go to pick up a card - more carefully this time for Hyunjinâs sake - your smile fades quicker than you could blink. Not one doubt crossed your mind about how obscene this game could get. Yet this card refuted all of that.Â
âIâŠgetâŠget yourself off in front of someone,â you mumble in a very quiet voice.
âGet what?â Jisung tries to reiterate.Â
Hyunjinâs brows knit in concentration as he reads the card from over your shoulder, âshe has to get herself in front of someone.â
An âoâ forms in Jisungâs mouth before he responds to that statement, âthatâs aâŠan interesting card.âÂ
The three of you fall deathly silent to the weight that the dare has you under. Your mind wants you to do it, to satiate that instinctual appetite to pleasure yourself ever since the game heated up. To do so in front of your friends doesnât appear to be a bad idea which technically it isnât from the way they already have you unintentionally wet. That in itself said a lot.
Therefore, you spread your legs and bend your knees.Â
An expression of realisation washes over Jisung, coming to grips with whatâs about to unfold. As for Hyunjin, he can only sit and remain in place as a support for you to lean against when your hand slips down the front of your underwear as you begin to rub. A sigh of warm relief then pushes past your lips. The pads of your fingers collect your damp essence to use as you circle over your clit.Â
Already, a hefty volume of pressure is escalating in the pit of your tummy, tingling and spreading throughout your lower half. All from being turned on by the game. The person in front of you and behind you feel the exact same way except the one behind you was already there a long time ago. Their cocks fill out against the inside of their thighs and Hyunjin is positive that you can feel him through his pants.Â
âY/N,â Jisung says. âDoes that make you feel good?â
âJisung,â Hyunjin warns him sharply, not wanting his friend to fuel the fire thatâs burning.Â
âMm, y-yes,â you stutter, breath catching at the base of your throat the more you try and push yourself towards an edge.Â
It could be better though. It could be the pair of them groping and teasing your body at their will. You know that they both know how to use their mouths with the way that they made out earlier on. Not to mention from the grapevine, youâve heard about Jisung too; how he knows how to eat pussy. Then you have Hyunjin, who just exposed his fantasy of liking having rough sex. The possibilities with his ideas would be endless and fun.Â
With the pair of them, you donât think you would ever run out of orgasms. Just thinking about it makes your fingers speed up, becoming increasingly more wetter. Your muscles jerk every now and then when you inch closer to the tail end of your orgasm, which causes you to unintentionally move against Hyunjinâs crotch once more.Â
âY/N,â Hyunjin breathes out against you.Â
âDonât touch her,â Jisung snaps. âThis is her dare.â
âI-Iâm not fucking touching her,â he presses back madly, then mutters just to himself as he hides behind you. âCanât help it Jisung.â
âK-Keep watchingâŠâ you plead. âSoâŠclose.âÂ
Hyunjinâs nails are digging deep into the carpet beneath him and his restraint not to touch you teeters dangerously on the last millimetre of a cliff. Heâs throbbing, achingly hard. For you. Jisung can see his friends' knuckles turning white but he understands. He too remains hard in his sweats, which was obvious to you. Even just the slight outline that you can see indicates to you that heâs big.
Your mind starts wondering what that sort of length would do to your body, how would it feel to have inside of you? As you ask yourself those questions, you try to imagine that sensation when you start fingering yourself.Â
You whimper pathetically, curling over that sweet spongy spot, âyes, feels so good. Makes me wanna cumâŠâÂ
âYeah? Gonna cum in front of us?â Jisung eggs you on. âGonna make yourself cum just for us?
Your dozy eyes lock with him just for a few seconds before you nod against Hyunjinâs body, âj-just for you both.âÂ
âF-Fuck,â Hyunjin squeezes his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth so much that his jaw aches.Â
As that familiar euphoric bliss catches up to you, a silent scream paints over your face while your eyelids clamp shut and your eyebrows are furrowed together, focusing on the pleasure. For a moment, youâve forgotten that Hyunjin is behind you as you canât help but shiver helplessly against his body from the waves of your orgasm. Quiet yet very audible moans ring throughout Hyunjinâs apartment, making themselves known as you gradually come down with heavy gasps.Â
âHoly shit,â Jisung murmurs in awe, he can see that youâve soaked through your underwear.Â
The large wet and sticky patch makes him want to lurch forward, tear the piece of clothing from your body and taste you for himself. To have his face buried in between your legs would be the Atlantis of his own fantasy right now, to have you use his mouth and tongue until youâre cumming all over again.Â
In the moments of quiet when the still air is filled with nothing but your staggered breathing and depleted whimpers as you try to collect yourself, your phone buzzes on Jisungâs thigh - the reply to the dirty text he sent from earlier on.
He looks down at the glowing bright screen and his jaw drops to the floor once more. His mind sobers quickly.
From Chan to You: Again? Still horny from this morning? Alright then, I can come over and give you what you need x
There was no way.
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#rosiewritesskz#stray kids smut#skz smut#han jisung smut#hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#Hyunjin x Jisung
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â.Ë áĄŁđ© â 'make me' with skz !
âș đč . genre: this is very suggestive lmao
âș đč . a/n: this is a repost from my old blog! so if you feel like you've read this before, that's why :)
đৠchan đà§
âMake you? Make you do what?â yes, he will play dumb to âmake youâ use your words and elaborate.
Doesnât do anything and acts oblivious until you actually say it, no matter how much he wants to.
Acts bubbly and normal like nothing even happened, laughing away without a care in the world while watching tiktoks or something. Unbothered.
The moment you do speak, something inside him snaps and heâs got you backed against a wall in moments, talking lowly over your lips while caressing your face.
đৠminho đà§
Oh, he will. No matter the context or where you are, Minho will take your words as a challenge and do anything in his power to make you regret ever doubting him.
Gives you this specific look that makes you go weak in the knees, raising a single eyebrow before beckoning you closer.
Will whisper in your ear, giving you one more chance to back down while softly playing with a strand of your hair.
If you donât do as he says, he will start whispering the dirtiest stuff with the straightest face, being content with just flustering you until you get home and he can finally âmake youâ.
đৠchangbin đà§
Forget about teasing and playing dumb, Changbin will âmake youâ instantly. He doesnât play around.
Will also back you up against the nearest surface and cup your face, resting his forehead on yours with a smirk on his face.
He feels so smug and cocky when he sees you get shy and regret your words that he canât help but find the whole situation amusing.
The power imbalance the moment provides feeds his ego so donât expect to get away with this scot-free. Changbin will punish you thoroughly.
đৠhyunjin đà§
Raises an eyebrow and justâŠstares at you, blinking. Looks so unphased that you actually think he didnât hear you at first.
But he did, and the moment you repeat yourself, he stands up to tower over you, fisting some of your hair in a makeshift ponytail to bring your face closer to his.
Licks his lips just to torture you a little more before finally pressing them to yours for a needy kiss, the soft action a straight contrast from the hold he still had on your hair.
When he pulls away, he repeats the words that got such an answer from you and expects you to finally listen, eyes sharp without any hint of playfulness in them.
đৠjisung đà§
Turns red instantly and his brain kind of short-circuits because he wasnât really expecting that.
If this was said in the heat of the moment during an argument, all of the anger will leave his body and he will justâŠstand there, flustered.
His mind will be racing with all of the things he wants to do to you, some innocent, others not so much while he looks at you, licking his lips.
Jisung will be tongue-tied, wanting to say too many things at once so you have to be the one pulling him from his trance if you want something to happen.
đৠfelix đà§
Felix will get the biggest smirk on his face, I swear. These are two of his favorite words after all.
He will make you do things youâve never even dreamt of doing so be careful what you wish for.
Takes a hold of your hand and draws you closer until youâre a breath away, placing a sweet peck on your lips that somehow leaves you dizzy and desperate for more.
Then, his voice drops and you feel the vibration in your bones as he speaks. âMake you do what exactly? Tell me, in detail.â
đৠseungmin đà§
Oh, you want him to make you shut up? Say no more.
Will get up and actually go through all the trouble of getting a paper towel and shoving it in your mouth Minho style (I AM SO SORRY KSJDGNDF BUT HE WOULD)
That is if he isnât in the mood to play your games. If he is, however, things would be completely different.
âAre you sure this is what you want? You might end up regretting it.â
đৠjeongin đà§
A tease from beginning to end. He wonât take you seriously at all Iâm afraid.
Might even laugh in your face before making himself more comfortable in his seat, (man)spreading his legs before beckoning you closer with a single finger, amused.
Wants you to entertain him and if you donât, he will âmake youâ.
Will place you in his lap and use his words to fluster you beyond belief, his fingertips ghosting over your skin sending shivers down your spine.
#stray kids#skz#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids headcanons#skz headcanons#stray kids imagines#stray kids fanfic#skz drabbles#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#felix x reader#han jisung x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader
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XOXO, kiss me, dont say no! / / genshin and star rail men . . .
the various ways they kiss you throughout your relationship <3
warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive in general but rlly suggestive on the last one lolz
w/c: .774k
author's note: this is lazy ash sorry but ive been so unmotivated recently its crazy also super random but dont let my blog theme deceive u my fav colors r pink and orange im js too lazy to change it LMAO
he opts for more chaste kisses, kisses that are shared between the two of you in passing. forehead kisses that happen between the two of you as he brings you your coffee for the day, kisses on the cheek as he has one hand on your waist to get past you, kisses on the corner of your lips to get that one crumb off of them. they leave you excited and almost pining for the next one. he is a busy man, sure, but he'd never not make time for affection between the two of you.
diluc, ayato, alhaitham, neuvilette, thoma, kaeya, baizhu, chongyun, sunday, dr. ratio, luocha, gepard, blade, aventurine . . .
he gives you a kiss every chance he gets. on your cheek, forehead, nose, neck, and even your chin at times. he's so quick about it, always finding the most obscure places to place his lips. you can't help but reciprocate it, turning it into a game on how many you can give eachother without it being in the same place. it was only when you gave him a quick peck on the lips did he finally click in his head that he could've kissed you there all along. "oh."
venti, itto, childe, heizou, lyney, gaming, razor, kaveh, cyno, sampo, luka, jing yuan, yanqing . . .
he is a gentleman first and foremost. he checks with you by the slightest glance between the two of you before leaning down to press his lips against yours. kisses to the back of your hand, the crown of your head, the veins on your wrist... the list goes on and on. it was to the point where the simplest graze of his fingers on your skin as he fixes your clothes felt intimate. and to be honest it makes you almost fall in love with him again, your perfect gentleman.
zhongli, diluc, neuvilette, thoma, wriothesley, kazuha, ayato, welt, gepard, gallagher, luocha, argenti, dan heng . . .
he is rather the opposite, he is a tease before everything. it seems like you can never have your way with him. his lips would just barely brush with yours, his eyes looking at you with a too-proud smirk. he'd either be insanely quick or painfully slow, no in between. he knew what he was doing, and god was it driving you mad. it was just when you started giving him his own medicine did he understand how you felt, and by the end of the week he was putty in your arms, begging for more.
kaeya, childe, cyno, kaveh, venti, xingqiu, lyney, wriothesley, jiaoqiu, sampo, boothill, aventurine, dan feng, gallagher. . .
his favorite kisses are lazy kisses. kisses that require no minimum amount of effort but still leave you satisfied. he says he just prefers to take his time with you, but all that really means is that he just wants to put his lips on you wherever he can. slow drags of his mouth tickle your skin, his face buried in your neck. he especially loves it when you caress his lips with your fingers before leaning in to kiss him, the soft matress beneath you dipping as you whisper into his ears before sleep takes you both, "g'night."
alhaitham, kazuha, kaeya, scaramouche, aether, jing yuan, dr ratio, blade, welt, boothill, aventurine . . .
kisses with him somehow always feel nervous. like he's inching towards you before (awkwardly) looking away to anywhere but your face. you made him feel like a boy with his first crush, ears slightly red at the possibility of a kiss. many of these times you had to initiate them yourself, easing him into it. now that he had someone to call his own, it felt almost surreal. and unbenknownest to you, he regularly kisses you on your forehead as you're sleeping, your dreams suddenly feeling sweeter than before.
aether, scaramouche, albedo, lyney, bennett, kaveh, freminet, gorou, tighnari, xiao, dan heng, arlan, gepard, moze . . .
his kisses feel straight out of a romance drama, always tender and sickeningly sweet. and you can't help but wonder if he takes notes on your favorites. but no, this was just how he was. the way he'd hold intense eye contact before leaning in to close the gap, the way he cradled the side of your head, even the way he'd softly whisper "is this okay?" each and every time. he leaves your face and neck warm and flushed, and when you try and hide it, he gently tilts your head up with his fingers. "don't hide your face, pretty"
ayato, baizhu, diluc, zhongli, kazuha, neuvillette, venti, kaeya, thoma, argenti, boothill, jing yuan, gepard . . .
he prefers to have his kisses as few as possible, yet with the most passion as he can muster. kisses between the two of you are rare unless its initiated by you, like small gestures like forehead and cheek kisses. but there are times where even he cant deny himself of your lips, pulling you into his lap randomly out of the blue. when he does decide to take pity on the both of you, he takes your breath and soul away. they're hot, heavy, full of pent up emotion, bad or good. and by the end you two are breathing into eachother's mouth, both your eyes telling eachother to not stop.
alhaitham, albedo, scaramouche, diluc, capitano, xiao, sunday, blade, dr ratio, dan heng, dan feng, moze . . .
#àŒâ§âË. zaephix#. â rayya writes#genshin x reader#honkai star rail x reader#genshin impact x reader#hsr x reader#genshin x f!reader#genshin x you#alhaitham x reader#kaeya x reader#xiao x reader#dan heng x reader#blade x reader#childe x reader#scaramouche x reader#aventurine x reader#dr ratio x reader#capitano x reader#zhongli x reader#boothill x reader#sampo x reader#cyno x reader#neuvillette x reader#f!reader#gender neutral reader#hsr x you#hsr x female reader#hsr x gender neutral reader
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I was hoping this would all blow over, but since it's continuing to happen, now with people attacking other artists of the commewnity. I'm putting out my two fucking cents! Cause this whole art/character theft and pointing fingers, who stole what from who bullshit it driving me up the fucking wall!!
Long story short, it started with me and one other blog whose name I won't mention publicly. Despite the horrible light they tried to paint me in, I don't want anyone going to this person and ganging up on them. This person had some serious bitterness towards more "popular" artists and claimed that I've made characters similar to theirs and once used a pose they apparently used before (which was a very common pose, considering it was a reference from the game version of mega Y). Since then, they had desperately tried to conjure up evidence, narrowing down to the most miniscule detail how I've been stealing from them when I hadn't even known their blog existed until I was forcefully thrown into that unnecessary drama with the unhinged call-out posts they've made. With this being said, I'd like to point out that they never came to me or addressed this concern with me in the first place. They had every opportunity to privately DM me if they had suspected I was "stealing," but no, simply because they already made up their mind that I was a thief, that was a good enough reason to lack common fucking sense and decency, making what should have been a private issue public, going on to villainize and dehumanize me. And apparently, it hasn't stopped with me either, cause recently I've been seeing other artists in the community having to deal with this where people are being white knights on high horses, pointing fingers on how one artist's mewtwo looks "the same" if not "totally identical" as another artist's mewtwo. I refuse to believe it's a coincidence. But what makes me disgusted is that since TC's post, apparently it's had the opposite effect on some people and they're hopping on this blame bandwagon like it's some damn media trend!!!
This is NOT okay! Nothing about this kind of behavior is funny! It's upsetting to all of us. We dont need you causing problems where there isn't any, thinking you're doing us a favor! The majority of us are adults for gods sake! We are old enough where we don't need other people coming to us being tattle tails saying this person did this and that. That's what little children do! If you suspect any form of theft, I think I speak for ALL creators in this commewnity that we'd prefer you DM us privately saying something like "Hey, I think this person is copying you, might wanna look into it." And if possible, provide a link to the art in question, for which we would kindly thank you for making us aware and we'll handle it ourselves from there. Just a brief, yet SIMPLE interaction...that's all we ask!!! Don't even come at me with "Well, it's scary attempting to talk to an artist that's well known." Or dare I say ~pOpUlAr~ If you claim that taking the first step to send me a quick DM makes you nervous, yet you have no problem making public call outs in posts or asks, belittling and degrading what could actually be innocent artists doing nothing wrong, literally leaving yourself open to all kinds of comments and opinions from all kinds of people....I'm sorry but your anxiety isn't as bad as you say it is then, if being rude and ignorant in a public post/ask is easier for you. If you come to us, shaming someone else who 9/10 probably isn't doing anything wrong, thinking you'll be in our good graces for doing so, sorry, you're not going to be told, "Good job!" with a pat on the back and given a lollipop! You're just being an asshole.
Quick reality check for everyone who's made it this far before I end this train wreck of a rant:
People can have similar ideas that coincide with one another! There's only so much you can do when a whole community is focused around drawing the same character! We mainly draw mewtwos and mews, you're bound to find a plethora of similar colors, patterns, and designs because of it! Creativity only goes so far when trying to stay true to a character and not stray too far. It's not a crime to take inspiration from other artists' characters, we actually encourage this! It makes us feel good that you liked something we've done and you want to incorporate it into your own designs! It makes us happy that we inspired you! The line is crossed when someone does a literal copy/paste of a character down to the exact detail, and they call it their own original creation. That my friends is what stealing actually is!
#im just so done...#i feel bad for the person who creates a mewtwo and gives them a scarf#cause god forbid people will think they're copying TC or some bullshit like that#with that kind of logic nobody is allowed to make mewtwos with vitiligo!#Blu had it first therefore I own the concept of vitiligo! nobody else can use it or else I'll accuse you of stealing!#sorry i don't make the rules#will i regret making this rant later?#...probably#đźâđš
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champagne problems: part two
pairing:Â jake sim x f reader
genre:Â enemies to lovers, rich kids au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff
part two word count:Â 33.2k
part two warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, a kiss or two, my incessant need to make sunghoon a figure skater in everything I write, family drama, use of the american (usa) university system
soundtrack: boom - dpr live / bad idea! - girl in red / blood on the floor - kuiper / calico - dpr ian / comme de garçons (like the boys) - rina sawayama / lust - chase atlantic
part one can be found on my masterlist!
note: reuploaded from my old blog with the same name! welcome back if you've been here before, and enjoy the conclusion to part one if you're new. happy reading âĄ
âïœĄïŸâïžïœĄâïœĄ ïŸâŸ ïŸïœĄâ âïœĄïŸâïžïœĄâïœĄ ïŸâŸ ïŸïœĄâ
The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, heâs no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother canât and best him once and for all, he knows heâd be a fool not to take it.
There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isnât a thing at all. Itâs you, semi-estranged daughter of the Simsâ closest and most long-standing business partner.
The second is that Jake Sim canât fucking stand you.
âïœĄïŸâïžïœĄâïœĄ ïŸâŸ ïŸïœĄâ âïœĄïŸâïžïœĄâïœĄ ïŸâŸ ïŸïœĄâ
PART TWO
âïœĄïŸâïžïœĄâïœĄ ïŸâŸ ïŸïœĄâ âïœĄïŸâïžïœĄâïœĄ ïŸâŸ ïŸïœĄâ
Jake Sim has been staring at his philosophy homework for the last twenty minutes when a stack of pastel pink papers slides across the table towards him.Â
âWhat is this?â Much like most interactions heâs had with you, your sudden presence at Jake's favorite coffee shop is entirely unexplained. Hell, heâs not even sure how you found him here. Heâd ask, if he thought youâd give him a straightforward answer.Â
But Jake knows better at this point. So with a grumble, he takes out his headphones instead and prepares for a conversion that will probably put him in a worse mood than he started it in.Â
Sliding down into the seat across from him without an invitation or the courtesy of an explanation, the only thing you say is, âYou know, I really am starting to get a bit worried about your future success.â Nodding at the stack of papers youâve just put on the table in front of him, you add, âHow are you a third-year business major that still canât recognize a contract?â
âI know what a contract is.â Jake defends, eyeing the papers warily, reaching out to pick them up. âBut usually theyâre not printed out on pink paper.â Really, who do you think you are? Elle Woods? And where did you even get this stuff? Jake doubts that this shade of pink cardstock came from the shelves of your local office supply store. Bringing the paper up closer to his nose, he levels you with a disbelieving look. âHold on, is this paper scented?â
âDonât put your gross nose on it! That paper is custom ordered.â
Of course it is. âWhy the fuck did you print out a contract on custom ordered lavender-scented paper?â
You have the audacity to look affronted. âYou should be thanking me.â With half a mind to snatch it out of his hands, you instead tell him with a glare, âLavender is a very calming scent and probably the only thing stopping me from strangling you right now, yâknow, since this entire thing is your fault.âÂ
Setting the papers back on the table with a little more force than necessary, Jake isnât in the mood to play your favorite game of beating around the bush.âWhat entire thing? What kind of contract is this?âÂ
âIâm so glad you asked.â Your tone says otherwise. âSince someoneâs loser brother couldnât keep his mouth shut, just like I predicted, and someoneâs mother found out about someoneâs unfortunate use of the B wordââ
âHold on,â Jakeâs brow creases in confusion. âI never called anyone a bitchââ
âBoyfriend,â you clarify, cutting him off. âI figured we better lay out some ground rules. You know, if weâre really gonna go for this.â
âGo for what?â Jake is still lost. âItâs just a family dinnerââ
Shaking your head, you paint a perfect picture of disappointment when you tell him, âYour lack of foresight is astounding. Truly. Forget econ, Iâm surprised you managed to pass classes that involve basic logic or any kind of critical thinking skills.â
Across from you, Jake does his best to close his laptop screen inconspicuously, keeping his untouched philosophy homework hidden from view.Â
Then he returns, âAnd you donât think youâre overreacting? Like, at all? What do we need a contract for?â Not that the lavender-scented abomination looks particularly legally binding to begin with. âLike I said, itâs just dinnerââ
âFor now,â you interrupt. âItâs just dinner for now. But two days ago, it was just a fundraiser, and to the best of our familiesâ knowledge, you were just my plus-one.â Giving him your best fake smile, you add, âAnd like the person at this table who has an IQ higher than a goldfish predicted, things are already getting messy. This,â you nod to the contract, âwill help us clean them up before James or my mother realize that everything about you and me is nothing but one big lie.â
Jake sighs. Tries to defend himself even though he knows itâs futile. âLook, how was I supposed to know that my brother would open his big mouth to my mom?â And it really is just terrible luck all around â that James couldnât keep a secret, that he chose to divulge it to the one person that actually cares about Jakeâs love life and not just its potential effects on the family business.Â
In fact, in Jake's opinion, his mother cares a little too much. The messages that started Sunday morning havenât stopped since then. Itâs a big part of the reason why his phone is currently face-down on the table that separates the two of you. Jake is not about to let you see anything that could potentially inflate your ego any more.Â
His mother, however, seems to have other ideas. Right now, his message thread with her looks more like a one-sided fan club.
Mom: I canât wait to meet her! I remember her as a little kid. Itâs been so long since Iâve seen her.
Mom: Does she have any dietary restrictions or allergies? Iâm starting to put together the menu for this weekend.
Mom: Does she prefer white or red wine?Â
Mom: Never mind the last message. Iâll just pull out some of both.Â
Mom: I just stumbled across a recent picture of her. Wow, sheâs even more beautiful than I remember! I hope youâre treating her well.Â
Mom: Can you send me your apartment address again? I want to mail you something.
Mom: Oh, and whatâs ___âs favorite kind of cookie?
Mom: Forget it. Iâll just give them to you this weekend to take with you.Â
Suppressing a wince, Jake decides to put his motherâs incessant prying to the side for the time being. Right now, he needs to build the most bulletproof defense of his intelligence and common sense as possible before you keep shooting holes in it. But contrary to his beliefs, youâre not here to argue with him about where the blame for your unfortunate situation lies, at least not for the most part.Â
You tell him as much. âIâm not here to yell at you about how this is all your fault.â
Jake raises an eyebrow, lips flat. âCouldâve fooled me.â
âDonât worry,â you assure him. âI got my anger out already. Your pictureâs right in the middle of my dartboard.â Across the table from him, you smile sweetly, imitate throwing a dart directly at the center of his forehead.Â
Jake canât tell if youâre kidding or not, and somehow thatâs more unnerving.Â
âSo what, you donât need to hear me say that everythingâs my fault? Youâd rather get it in writing instead?â Jake glances at the forgotten contract. Suddenly, a wave of panic crests in his mind. âIf youâre trying to sue meââ
You roll your eyes before he can finish the empty threat. âAgain, thatâs not what this is for.â Looking at the papers, you tilt your head, considering. âAlthough itâs not too late for an amendmentâŠâ
Jake cuts that train of thought off as quickly as he can. âOkay, what exactly is it for then?â
You donât miss a beat. âLike I said, just like someone with more than two functioning brain cells predicted, your little slip of the tongue made things messy. So if Iâm gonna save your ass and pretend to be your girlfriend in front of your family this weekend, weâre gonna need some kind of written agreement about how this is going to play out. Think of it as an agreement, something to outline theâŠâ you pause, weighing your words, âexpectations on both of our ends.â
A contract. A fake dating contract. Itâs all Jake can do not to burst out laughing. Heâs trying to egg you on a little, piss you off and push your buttons like youâre so good at doing to him when he tells you, âYâknow, itâs kind of funny how seriously youâre taking this.â
You donât understand how he can be so blase about it all. Sure, maybe the contract was a little overkill, but the two of you are about to start pretending to be dating, to be a couple, in front of your families. Itâs not something that youâre willing to walk into blindly.Â
âReally? I think itâs kind of funny the whole reason Iâm in this mess is because of you.â Suddenly, thereâs a reignited fire in your eyes. Jake almost regrets his taunting. âIn fact, I think itâs absolutely hilariousââ
âOkay, okay,â He can sense a losing battle when he sees it. Not wanting to rehash your argument from earlier or put himself at the center of any more dartboard target practices, Jake surrenders. And then he frowns. Reaching for the stack of papers again, he scans the first page. Trying to make sense of all the legal jargon and stylized formatting, heâs hesitant when he glances at you and slow to admit, âTo be completely honest with you, Iâm actually not that good with contractsââ
âOh my god.â
âSo, do you think you could go over the highlights for me?â
âYou are absolutely insufferable.â
âIâm sorry,â Jake intones flatly. âAre you talking to me or the mirror you spend five hours a day looking into?â
You kind of have to hand it to him. Ever since your run in with his brother, his insults have been landing a lot better. That one was actually pretty good. Not that youâd ever admit it.Â
âAnyway,â you glare instead. âThe highlights.â Nodding to the contract you spent most of last night writing up, you explain, âThe first page is just basic contract language. The actual content of our proposed agreement starts on the second page.â
Following your explanation, Jake sets the first page aside, makes quick work of skimming the second. Or at least he tries to. It proves a difficult task, however, when he gets a little caught up on the very first line.Â
âReally?â Youâre not quite sure what kind of expression is on his face when he looks up at you. Itâs an odd mix of shock, disbelief, and perhaps, if the sudden flush on his cheekbones is anything to go by, embarrassment. âRule number one is no kissing?â
Across from him, you just rest your chin in your palm. âI know Iâm crushing your dreams and all, but donât be so surprised.â
Jakeâs glare is easier to read this time. âThat is not what I meant. Itâs just⊠I donât know.â It seems so obvious. He didnât think youâd feel the need to actually write it out like heâs about to start trying to plant ones on you every hour of the day. âItâs not what I was expecting.â
âI mean, I donât know how family dinners work at your house, but mine usually donât involve makeout sessions between courses.â
âExactly,â Jake returns. âIt hardly seems like something we need in writing when itâs more than easy to avoid.â
Still, you donât back down. âDonât blame me for erring on the side of caution. Weâre pretending to be a couple in front of your brother. And we both know that you donât exactly make the most rational decisions when he starts pushing your buttons, boyfriend.â
The use of the pet name is intentional. Itâs a reminder that Jake canât be trusted where his older brother is concerned. Not when in the heat of the moment, he would say or do just about anything to get under Jamesâ skin in the same way James has been getting under his for the last twenty-one odd years. Â
âPoint taken.â Jake canât exactly argue that one.Â
And in all honesty, Jake kinda feels like heâs getting off easy, at least with you. Not that he would ever tell you that.Â
Heâs feeling apprehensive about this dinner, yes, and now about being legally bound to you, but he supposes things could be a lot worse. For starters, youâd been much easier to convince than he initially thought. He wasnât sure what kind of bribes would work on you, how he was going to get you to keep up the facade he started for one more dinner.Â
Maybe, he thought, he would be able to leverage your phone number against you in a new way. He could promise not to pass it along to James, but only as long as you did him the solid of playing the part of his girlfriend, this time at a dinner with his family.Â
But that felt a little too much like blackmail, even for him. So instead, he had told you the truth.Â
Listening to the phone ring after clicking on your number, it was all Jake could do not to throw his phone across the room in anticipation of your rage. But then you answered, and it all came spilling out.Â
He told you that James could not be trusted with secrets but could absolutely be trusted to do everything in his power to ruin Jakeâs life, even if unintentionally. He explained how his mother was now unfortunately involved, that your initial plan to just mention each other occasionally and claim that things fizzled by the time the clock struck midnight on New Yearâs was no longer viable.Â
You had remained completely silent for a long pause. Too long. Jake was suddenly very grateful that he took the precaution of having this conversation over the phone. Mostly because he was pretty sure if he tried to tell you face-to-face, you would cause him actual bodily harm. But instead of threats or curses or even sarcasm, Jake had listened as a long sigh came through the other line and thenâ
âYeah, my mom has been asking me about you too.â Much to his shock, you were resigned to the fact, not angry at the news. And you had told him, âIâll come to your family dinner. Just let me⊠Let me think about the best way to go about this.â
Less than twenty-four hours have passed since that phone conversation, and Jake shouldnât be as surprised as he is that your idea of the best way to go about this is printed out for him on custom pink lavender-scented paper. Â
Deciding to leave the kissing debacle alone for the moment, he reads through the rest of your so-called rules. With more of an idea as to what to expect, nothing shocks him quite as much as the initial line.Â
He reads the second section wordlessly: Both parties will do everything in their power, to a reasonable extent, to maintain the image of a false relationship in the presence of family members and those with immediate connections to them (including, but not limited to employees, business partners, etc).
The third section covers another base: Friends and other acquaintances of both parties are not to be informed of the arrangement. Neither party is under obligation to maintain the lie of relationship with friends or acquaintances unless deemed necessary to maintain secrecy of the relationship.Â
Jake glances up with a furrow in his brow. You clarify before he has the chance to ask, âBasically itâs saying that you donât have to lie to your friends and tell them that weâre dating, unless they get suspicious or start asking. Just donât tell them we arenât. And absolutely do not tell them about the contract.â Â
Jake nods, moves to the next line.Â
Neither party may involve themself in a romantic relationship of any nature with another individual for the duration of this contract. Both parties are to avoid to the best of their ability any situation in which it could be interpreted that they are in a romantic relationship of any nature with another individual for the duration of this contract.Â
âSo essentially just no dating other people?â Jake asks.Â
âRight.â You nod. âAnd try to avoid getting into situations that make it look like you might be dating someone else. Iâm not gonna make you agree to stop hooking up with people or anything.â You look mildly ill at the mere proximity of Jake and the term âhooking up.â âJust, yâknow, be discreet about it.â
Jake looks up at you. âIâm not hooking up with other people.â
You cringe. âThanks, but I really donât need the gory details of your sex life. Do you understand the rule or not?â
Jake nods. âYeah, I get it.â
âGreat,â you move the contract aside, setting a new stack of papers down on the table. Also printed on pink paper, this pile is considerably thicker. âThatâs about it for the contract, then. This,â you gesture to the new set of papers, âis for you to memorize.â
Jake would be a little less wary if it didn't look as dense as an encyclopedia. âWhat is it?â
âA list of everything a real boyfriend should know about me.â Jake waits for you to finish the joke, to land a punchline, but youâre entirely serious when you add, âThink of it as your ___ cheat sheet. Iâll need one for you too, of course. Preferably in the next couple of days so that I can get it down before dinner this weekend.âÂ
Hesitantly, Jake picks up the first page. Scanning over yet another meticulously formatted document printed on â he sniffs again â yep, lavender-scented paper, Jake privately thinks that this may actually come in handy. If nothing else, heâs sure he could reference it for some of his momâs questions instead of needing to guess at your responses.Â
Itâll help with the basics, at least. Jake is pretty sure you wouldnât have bothered to include things like your favorite kind of cookie in there.Â
But then he glances again at the stack of papers, and more specifically, how how thick it is. He looks a little closer at the page in his hand. Single spaced. He flips it over. Double sided.Â
Looking over the back of the page in his hand, he forces himself to actually read some of what youâve written. He doesnât get far before heâs leveling you with a disbelieving look.
âIs this a prank?â
You have the gall to look confused. âNot even a little bit.â
Jake wants to tear his hair out. Because what the actual fuck? âI really donât think anyone is going to ask me about your third favorite shade of Dior lip oilââ
âThey might. And think of how suspicious it would be if you got me one as a Christmas gift or something and the color washed me out.â
Across from you, Jakeâs eyes just widen. And then heâs weighing your words.Â
Despite the ridiculousness, your argument does raise a point. Albeit not the one you intended.Â
âChristmas gift,â Jake repeats slowly. As of now, youâre already over halfway through fall semester, which means the holidays will be approaching in just a couple of short months. Suddenly, they seem a lifetime away. âDoes this contract of yours have an end date?â
âOh, right.â Reaching for the contract again, you turn to the final page, lay it on the table in front of Jake. âFeel free to propose something else,â you offer, âbut I put the termination date as January first of next year. I figured that we could use this arrangement to get us through all of the inevitable holiday parties. My family always hosts a giant one on New Yearâs Eve, so I thought we could go to that together and then call it off the next day. What do you think?â You turn to him. âToo long?â
Jake discards your insane list of personal preferences for the time being and picks up the last page of the contract. At the bottom, he locates the verbiage in the final section, just above the two blank signature lines neither of you have filled yet.Â
This contract will be terminated as of January 1 of the coming year.Â
Jakes stares at the date for a moment. It feels odd to see an expiration date on your relationship, regardless of the fact that itâs all a facade. Seems strange to be starting something with the sole intention of ending it. But he can hardly voice those feelings, so instead he taunts, âYou wanna be stuck with me that long, huh? Just canât get enough?â
Your lips flatten as you reach for your phone. âI will literally text your brother right now.â
âNice try,â Jake calls your bluff. âYou just told me that you didnât want your mom knowing that you lied about dating me either.â
âNo,â you correct, dangling your phone between your fingers. âWhat I said was that I want her off my back when it comes to my dating life and who I spend my time with. It wouldnât matter even a little bit to her whether thatâs you or James. In fact, she would probably actually like him betââ
âWhatever.â If Jake is suddenly sulking, he figures that no one needs to be aware of it. âI know you like me more than him.â
âIncorrect. I hate him more than I hate you.â
Jake stares at you blankly. âIs there a difference?â
âObviously,â you scoff.Â
âWhatever. Youâre still willing to tolerate me until New Yearâs.â
âIs that actually high praise to you? Do we need to start working on your self-confidence too?â
Insult aside, Jake supposes that your deadline does make sense. Although family obligations are intermittent in nature, it would be nice to have a go-to plan for every event and dinner and interaction with his older brother that heâs forced into between now and the New Year.Â
Honestly, the thought of having you at his upcoming family dinner has made Jakeâs steps the last two days feel a little lighter. If anything, he thinks that youâll be a great distraction for his father. Something to talk about besides the gory details of Jakeâs many failures.Â
Itâs a chance to be impressive in the eyes of his family, even if only in some small capacity, even if only until New Yearâs.Â
A moment later, Jake warily eyes the pen you hand him. âLet me guess, pink ink?â
âObviously not.â You roll your eyes. âHow would that show up on pink paper?â
So Jakeâs signature is written on the first dotted line of the contract with the matte black ink of your shockingly normal ballpoint pen. Moments later, your name joins on the second line, right next to his.Â
And itâs as if something shifts in the air, as if something suddenly feels a little heavier, slightly more weighted. The following silence that passes between the two of you feels like a finale of sorts. The end of something and the beginning of another.Â
Looking at the boy across from you, it feels strange to say that for all intents and purposes, even if theyâre fabricated, youâll be dating him until the New Year. Showing up on his arm and laughing at his jokes and filling in the quiet moments with little displays of affection, practiced bouts of intimacy.Â
Itâs weird. Itâs daunting. Itâs not something you have any clue how to navigate, even if the contract gives you a false sense of security, of control.Â
You break the moment by glancing at the clock that hangs above the front door of the coffee shop. Suddenly, your mind is elsewhere. On the other part of your original agreement. âYour first tutoring session is tonight, right?â Jungwon mentioned it to you in passing.Â
âYeah,â Jake nods. If his voice has an odd sudden hoarseness to it, youâll both ignore it for now. âWhy?â
âWhat time are you supposed to meet him?â
âSix-thirty.â
A second glance at the clock confirms, âItâs six thirty-five.â
âShit!â Jake is suddenly frantic, panicked as he rushes to repack his bag and salvage whatâs left of a good first impression on his tutor.Â
It hardly registers when you remind him, âDonât forget to make me a cheat sheet of things I should know about you!â Already halfway out the door, the only acknowledgement you get is a half hearted nod.Â
Frowning at the mess of papers in front of you, scattered from Jakeâs hasty exit, you make quick work of rearranging your newly minted contract in the correct order.Â
âMen,â you whisper, to no one in particular. Even though it doesnât land on the ears you want it to. Even though Jake is too far gone to hear it.Â
âŠ
Instead, what Jake hears a handful of minutes later, is a less than friendly reminder from the librarian at the front desk that the university library is a quiet area and that running is strictly prohibited. Still out of breath from the way he just bolted across the entire campus, all Jake can offer her is an apologetic nod.Â
He pulls out his phone to double-check the brief message thread between him and Jungwon, to confirm the exact location of their first tutoring session.Â
Yang Jungwon (Econ Tutor) [3:02 pm]: Study room 103 on the first floor
After that, there are only two other messages â one being Jakeâs hasty, misspelled apology for being nearly fifteen minutes late, to which he received:
Yang Jungwon (Econ Tutor) [6:41 pm]: No problem! Iâm here
After navigating his way to the reservable first floor study rooms, Jake finds himself in front of Room 103. Suddenly, a wave of self-consciousness sweeps away any adrenaline fueled by his lateness. Any lingering annoyance brought on by a conversation with you.Â
Should he knock? Is there a certain etiquette to this? How embarrassed should he be that the person waiting for him with both better punctuality and significantly better grades is two years his junior, according to the sparse information you gave him?
In the end, Jake decides it would be weird to knock and chokes down all his other uncertainty. Opening the door slowly, he nods at the boy already inside.Â
âHi, Jungwon?â
If his tutor is at all put off by Jakeâs lateness, he does a great job of hiding it. Jungwon is all smiles when he says, âThatâs me. You must be Jake.â Jake is still stuck halfway in the door like he wants to hold onto the opportunity to bolt, just in case he needs it. Jungwon picks up on some of his hesitation. âCome on in.â
Jake does so quietly, setting his stuff down as he slides into the seat across from Jungwon. As he pulls out his laptop, Jake glances at his tutor. All smiles and friendliness, the oversized hoodie he wears looks comfortable enough to fall asleep in. Altogether, he kind of reminds him of an overeager puppy. Or at least he would, if his features werenât so distinctly feline.Â
âSorry again for being late,â Jake mumbles, opening a Word document. âI completely lost track of time.â More like his time was completely overtaken by someone that does a great job of consuming all his senses and sends his mind spinning sideways, but Jake can hardly say that.Â
Just like he did over text, Jungwon doesnât appear bothered in the slightest by his tardiness. âIt really is no problem. Iâm glad you found the room alright. Itâs kind of like a maze back here.â
Heâs being nice again. Itâs a single hallway with a handful of clearly labeled doors. But Jake isnât one to look kindness in the mouth, especially when heâs still sitting on a pile of discomfort. Instead, he figures itâs as good a time as any to express his gratitude.Â
âThanks again for doing this, and for keeping it on the down low. ___ mentioned that youâre great at econ.â
Across from him, Jungwon shrugs. âIâm good with numbers and data and stuff like that. And I had to get good at studying pretty quick, since Iâve been on academic scholarships since middle school.â
That tidbit swirls in the air for a moment, falls through the room like a bad premonition before settling uncomfortably in Jakeâs gut. It makes him wonder, makes him question a lot of things.Â
What would he be like, Jake wonders, if his family name wasnât a safety net, a security blanket in its own right? If he had to fight to earn things like the university admission letter he took for granted? Resented, even, since it was yet another choice made for him by his father.Â
Would he be like Jungwon, tutoring older students for extra cash? Forgiving people when theyâre late and convincing himself that years of staring at math problems until his eyes felt like sandpaper is the same as being âgood with numbers and stuff like thatâ?Â
And Jake is assuming, of course. Maybe Jungwon is just good with numbers, has a natural inclination for economics.Â
But the only thing Jake has ever had a natural inclination for is doing what heâs told and then blaming the world around him when he hates himself a little for it.Â
All at once, he feels like an observer in his own life. An external force that does nothing but shake the snowglobe and wait to see where the dust settles, where everything lands.Â
But his self-prescribed identity crisis is not Jungwonâs problem, and Jake is at least self-aware enough to know that any hardships in his life likely pale in comparison to Jungwonâs. Itâs not like measuring misery has ever done Jake any good, and it feels unfair for him to be jumping to conclusions and stacking their lives against each other when all Jungwon is doing is trying to make conversation.Â
So Jake decides to save the psychoanalysis for a sleepless night and is nothing but neutral when he chooses to reply to the first part of Jungwonâs comment, âWell, Iâm grateful that youâre willing to help me. Iâm kind of a disaster when it comes to econ.â
âSo I hear,â Jungwon smiles, and Jake thinks that maybe him and Jungwon will get along just fine, whether they have the common ground of economics or not. âDonât let ___ tease you too hard about it, though. I used to help her, too. Back in high school.â
And if Jake was trying to stop himself from feeling sorry for Jungwon, he doesnât have to try for very long. He suddenly thinks friendship will be a very hard thing to form. Mostly because he has the distinct sense Jungwon is reflecting on your high school days together rather fondly. Maybe a little too fondly. âReally?â
âYeah,â Jungwon nods. âIâm a freshman, so Iâm a couple years younger than you guys,â he sighs like itâs a terrible thing to be and Jake has never been more appreciative of his own birth date, âbut sheâs been friends with my older sister for years now. ___ was always pretty good at most subjects, but physics gave her a run for her money, so I helped her a bit when I could.â
It makes sense, he supposes. Jungwon was your physics tutor, so you knew you could recommend him with confidence. With all your first hand experience.Â
âYou two are close, then?â Jake hates the way he sounds almost defensive. Hates the way he doesnât recognize the odd feeling thatâs beginning to swirl in his gut unpleasantly.
âWeâve definitely gotten closer,â Jungwon nods. Jake doesnât think heâs imagining the sudden flush on the younger boyâs cheeks. âEspecially since I started university here. My sister decided to get her degree abroad, but ___ and I have still stayed in touch even without her around as the middleman, yâknow?â
âRight,â Jake agrees. To what, heâs not sure. He has no idea if you have the same feelings towards your relationship with Jungwon, if youâd corroborate the fact that the two of you are getting closer, if your cheeks would get a little color in them while you talked about it.Â
It strikes Jake then that he really doesn't know anything about you. At least not anything substantial. And while the dictionary of personal details youâve compiled is still sitting in his bag, he doubts it will divulge things related to relationships. Things heâs suddenly curious about.Â
He can at least feel confident in the fact that youâre not currently dating anyone. He wouldnât have just signed a contract if you were. But that still leaves a lot of gray area, a lot of questions.Â
Are there any recent exes he should know about? Messy situationships that would be glad to land a few punches on him if word of your supposed relationship were to accidentally get out?Â
Jake has no idea, and even less of a clue as to how to find out. But he doesnât like the way those uncertainties settle in his gut. And he doesnât like the way Jungwon says your name.Â
Jungwon must mistake Jakeâs sudden silence as passion for fixing his grades, because the next thing he says is, âSorry, I kind of went on a tangent there.â His apologetic smile does nothing to quell the riot in Jakeâs mind. âAnyway,â he opens his laptop. âEconomics. I figured we could start by looking at the upcoming assignment to see which parts are trickiest for you and go from there.â Glancing at the older boy, he asks, âOr did you have a different idea?â
âNo,â Jake shakes his head. âThat sounds good to me.â And he shouldn't say it, but, âIâve got plans this weekend, so Iâm hoping to get as much of this done as I can before then.â
âOh,â Jungwon asks. Itâs more of an effort to be polite than genuine curiosity. âAnything fun?â
Jake shouldnât. Not considering the conversation you just had. Not considering the contract he just signed.Â
âI donât know. I canât decide if Iâm more nervous or excited.â
He really, really, shouldnât. Butâ
âIâm taking ___ to officially meet my parents.âÂ
The way Jungwon falters is barely perceptible. Jake only notices because heâs watching for it.Â
Jungwonâs brow creases for a moment, putting the pieces together until he realizes that they definitely only fit one way. âYou two are dating?â
Jake tries not to be offended at the shock in his voice. âIs it that surprising?â
âI mean, kind of.â Jungwon is still reeling a bit. âWhen she mentioned that you were looking for a tutor, she said you were just a friend.â
And now Jake has to think of how to play his cards here. He needs to tread carefully, choose his words wisely. There are too many ways he could back himself into a corner, accidentally tell a lie he canât talk his way out of. Thatâs probably, definitely, why you made the point of saying the two of you should leave your friends out of the arrangement entirely. Should only divulge the details if they start poking around first. Which Jungwon was definitely not doing.Â
Ultimately, Jake decides to leave his explanation as vague as possible, hoping that the less he reveals, the less Jungwon will be able to poke at it until his lie crumbles and leaves nothing but the truth in its wake.Â
Shrugging, he says, âWeâve been keeping it pretty quiet. You know how rumors can be.â They can catch fire at the first sign of wind. Can spread before thereâs any chance of controlling them. Kind of like the one heâs single handedly spreading right now.
âOh,â is all Jungwon says. And despite himself, Jake does feel kind of bad for the kid. He feels even worse when Jungwon finds his smile again a moment later and adds, âWell, I hope it all goes good for you. ___âs a great girl.â
But all that guilt is pushed to the side when that odd, unpleasant feeling at the bottom of Jakeâs gut releases a little bit of tension, heaves a giant sigh of relief.Â
âYeah,â Jake nods without thinking. In his mind, he sees a gold dress, a black marker, his name in your handwriting. Thereâs a sliver of truth there, albeit a small one, when he agrees, âShe is.â
âŠ
Saturday night puts you back in the passenger seat of Jakeâs car, a sense of deja vu overcoming you as he navigates out of your apartment buildingâs parking lot and onto the highway. Although this time, he did manage to avoid an argument with your doorman. Mostly because Jake Sim is now a name on your list of approved visitors.Â
And there are more differences to be found. Tonight, youâve traded your evening gown for a pair of dark wash jeans and a sweater that Jake insists his mother will love. The aged bottle of red wine you brought as a gift for his parents has a bow wrapped around its neck where it sits on the back seat of Jakeâs car.Â
If nothing else, Jake has to applaud your insistence that you not show up as an empty-handed guest. Your commitment to the facade is truly admirable, even if it is motivated by the contract you keep safe and sound in the top drawer of your desk.Â
And finally, as opposed to the drive to your familyâs fundraiser, this commute is far from silent.Â
âGood,â you nod, praising Jakeâs most recent answer. Despite his initial protests, he did his studying. And if his string of correct responses is anything to go by, you seem to be a subject he has an easier time grasping than economics. Or perhaps one he simply has more vested interest in. âAnd my top three favorite colors are?â
âOne,â Jake answers seamlessly. âGold, but only if itâs 24 karat. Two, the exact red of the HermĂšs Satin Lipstick in shade Rouge H. Three is pink. But not hot pink. You like softer shades, like baby pink.â Like that damn contract.Â
âNicely done. My major is?â
âPre-law,â Jake fills in. âBut youâre still undecided on if youâll attend law school after graduation.â
Itâs a tidbit that he finds mildly interesting. Heâs not surprised that like him, like James, youâre following in your parentsâ footsteps. As the daughter of ridiculously successful lawyers, itâs a career path that makes perfect sense for you.Â
And the compassion also has him thankful for the partnership between your families, which has undoubtedly done you both some favors. First, Jake suspects that a few under-the-table deals have likely funded more than one of his childhood family vacations. And second, it adds credibility, at least from an outsiderâs perspective, to the relationship the two of you are faking.Â
He does wonder why youâre undecided on law school, though. If law is your field of choice, it seems like a natural progression. Not to mention that as third-year university students, the two of you are running out of time for indecision. Jake is well-acquainted with this particular reality, but it strikes him as out of character that you are as well. Â
From the outside, at least, youâve always been an image of perfection to him. Someone who has it all together, who has a ten-year plan and the actual conviction to see it through to the end. Unlike him, whoâs still grasping at straws where all matters of his future are concerned.Â
A fact that heâs reminded of when you say, âYou know, I didnât exactly have high hopes, considering your academic track record, but that was perfect.â You shift in your seat, preparing for a challenge. âOkay, your turn. Quiz me.âÂ
Your work has been undeniably easier. As opposed to the multi-page, double sided, single spaced abomination you handed him a few days ago, the Jake Sim cheat sheet still sitting on your night stand was nothing but a small assortment of facts that fit on a single sheet of paper.Â
But now, the subject of your major takes Jake from thinking about your future to thinking about the classes youâre currently taking. Which makes him think of something he hasnât been able to let go of since his first tutoring session a few nights ago. Instead of cooperating, he hands the reins to whatâs been weighing on his mind. âAre you taking any physics classes?â
âUgh,â you groan. âYou were doing so well. And you literally just answered that one. Iâm a pre-law major, remember?â
But Jake needs to know. Doesnât quite have the room to think about anything else right now. âJust answer the question.â
The glance you give him is scathing, but you can sense that heâs not going to let it go until he gets his answer. âNo, Iâm not taking physics.â Jake hates the way that odd feeling in his gut makes a sudden reappearance, hates the way it unclenches at your response. âI havenât since high school. I hate that stupid subject.â
Still, he canât stop himself from offering, âWell, if you ever doââ
âDid you listen to anything I just said?â
âI was pretty good at it in high school.â Heâs only kind of lying. He was pretty decent at it, at least the times he bothered to finish his homework.Â
â... Okay?â You still donât see a point to this sudden detour in the conversation.Â
âSo I could, uh, I could help you out. If you ever have to take it for some reason, I could help with your homework and stuff.â
âRight, because the first person I would go to for homework help is definitely Mr. I Failed Economics Twice.â Jake can hear the sarcasm. He thinks to himself, a little miserably, that if you were actually picking someone to go to, it would probably be the same person tutoring Jake now. Your old physics tutor from high school.Â
Jake will pretend that the way that makes his blood pressure rise is only because heâs worried Jungwon wonât have as much time for their sessions if he picks you back up as a client.Â
âDonât hold econ against me. Theyâre entirely different subjectsââ
âWhatever.â You cut him off. âWho gives a shit about physics? Just quiz me.â
Jake wants to press it. He really does. Wants to ask his real questions, which have a lot less to do with physics and a lot more to do with a certain econ tutor, but itâs not like youâd entertain his curiosity there either. So he relents. âFine.â Trying to remember what he even wrote on the sheet he gave you, he starts with, âMy major is?â
âBusiness.â Slightly quieter, you mumble, âA questionable choice, if you ask me.â
âHey!â Jake protests. âI didnât add any commentary to your ridiculous answers.â And some of them had been ridiculous, indeed. âI mean, seriously. You made me memorize your five favorite necklines.â
âClearly not, since you put sweetheart and off-the-shoulder in the wrong order.â
Jake just blinks. How are you a real person? âYou are actually the most annoying person I have ever met.â
The dig rolls right off your shoulders as you return one of your own. âThatâs hardly even an insult, considering the size of your social circle. Itâs not my fault you donât get out much.â
âItâs like you want me to kick you out on the side of the highwayââ
âAnd show up to your family dinner without me? Yeah, sure.â
âBesides, you know that means youâre admitting to being more annoying than Heeseungââ
âOn second thought, the side of the highway sounds nice. Feel free to drop me at the next mile marker.â
âYeah?â Jake taunts, glancing down at your choice in footwear. Another pair of heels so tall heâs impressed you can walk at all. âYou think those shoes would be comfortable to walk home in?â Taking one hand off the wheel, he leans over menacingly. âIn fact, why donât I break them in for you nowââ
âOkay,â you push back at him in a way thatâs probably unwise, considering the fact that heâs driving. âOkay. No extra comments from me.â You mime zipping your lips with your finger. âYouâre a business major. End of answer.â
Jake doesnât believe you for a second. But after pausing to send you a withering glare for good measure, he continues anyway. âSport I played growing up?â
Much to his surprise, your answer is genuine, concise. âSoccer.â And correct.Â
âPets?â
âJust a dog. Layla.â
As the road stretches on in front of you, back and forth quizzing takes you all the way to his parentsâ house. As he pulls into the long driveway, Jake spares a glance in your direction. You wear an expression he hasnât seen on you before.Â
It confuses him a little, worries him even, until he realizesâ
âHold on. Are you⊠nervous?â
âWhat about it?â Even visibly tense, your gut reaction is to deny, to make excuses. Finally, you admit, âItâs been a while since Iâve met anyoneâs mom.â
Jake almost considers telling you that heâs pretty sure sheâd redecorate one of the guest bedrooms and put your name on the door if she thought youâd like that, but decides against it.Â
âHey,â he reaches for your hand instead, interlaces your fingers. âMy mom will love you.â In fact, she probably already does. âIt will be just fine.â
Jake supposes that divulging just one of her many messages from this week couldnât hurt. Besides, heâs half afraid youâll actually run back down the street the two of you just drove up if he doesnât give you some sort of confidence boost. âSheâs really excited to meet you. That cheat sheet of yours actually came in handy, because she asked me what your favorite kind of cookie is. Sheâs sending us back with a box of homemade snickerdoodles tonight.â What Jake doesnât mention is the fact that heâs never been big on cinnamon.Â
âReally?â
âMhm. So thereâs no need to worââ
âWhat about your dad?â
âMy dad isâŠâ Jake trails off, searching for the right words. âHeâs a businessman. In a lot of ways, heâs difficult. And very set in his ways, which makes him particular. But on the outside, heâs easy to get along with. He wants to make a good impression on people. And even if he didnât, you really donât have anything to worry about there either. His biggest concern is always how things will reflect on the company, and youâre pretty much as perfect as it gets in that regard.â Pausing for a moment, he adds, âAnd we both know my brotherâs kind of obsessed with you.â
And he really did set himself up for it, he realizes, the second you turn to him with a wink and say, âMust run in the family.â Jake wonât even argue with you on that one for now. His mission was to get you out of your head and back to your usual self. The version of you that he knows and occasionally tolerates. The version of you that could probably win an Oscar for playing the role of is fake girlfriend, if you really put your mind to it.Â
So before you can start to linger on your worries again, Jake steps out of the car. Makes quick work of walking around the front to open the passenger side door for you.Â
When he offers you, and outstretched hand, you take it. This time, itâs you that initiates the interlacing of your fingers. Glancing at the expanse of the home in front of you â although mansion may be a better word for it â you take a deep breath.Â
âReady?â Jake echoes your words from your familyâs fundraiser just a week ago.Â
Youâre a little less confident this go around. âAs Iâll ever be.â
Jake, too caught up in his attempts to soothe your frayed nerves, forgets to warn you that Layla can be a bit of a jumper, especially with new people. Sure enough, the first person to greet the two of you as spoon as he turns the doorknob is his favorite family pet. Honestly, Jake is a little more concerned about the bottle of wine in your hands than anything.Â
Especially when, just as he remembered a little too late, Layla makes quick work of giving you an overexcited greeting.Â
When he does finally manage to get her mostly off of you, heâs relieved to note that the alcohol is unharmed. With a bit more trepidation, he lets his eyes wander up to your face. Itâs a safe bet, he thinks, that someone with five favorite necklines isnât a fan of obnoxious furry greetings.
To his surprise, however, the only expression he reads is pleasant surprise.Â
âThis is Layla?â You ask. Jake nods, still a bit strained from the way heâs preventing Layla from trying to lick at your face and leave paw prints on your jeans.Â
But thatâs not what youâre thinking about. No, youâve suddenly been transported to an unfortunate forty-five minutes wasted in a restaurant all on your own. The catalyst of all of this.Â
Because Layla is the same dog you saw while doom scrolling Jamesâ social media profile. You thought she was cute, back then, sandwiched between gym selfies and other photos more telling of Jamesâ awful personality.Â
But now, looking at the way she almost seems to smile while Jake scratches her behind the ears, wraps her up in a big, warm hug, you think you just might like her even more.Â
Youâve never seen your fake boyfriend look at anything with so much⊠fondness. Itâs palpable, all of his pent up love, as he lets some of it loose to shower Layla with it. Everything about him is a little easier, a little more relaxed. You can see it in the set of his shoulders, the absence of tension in his jaw.Â
Most of all, you see it in his smile. Bright, warm, genuine. You donât think youâve ever seen him wear that expression before. It suits him, you think, as you reach down to give her a greeting of your own.Â
âHi, Layla,â you smile, reaching down to pat her on the head.Â
And if that makes Jake turn to look at you with a little too much fondness, youâll assume itâs just lingering remnants of his reunion with his favorite girl. Layla, that is.Â
Youâre pretty sure the two of them could spend hours just catching up, especially when Layla turns onto her back in a silent demand for tummy rubs, but a voice from a nearby room cuts it short.Â
âJake?â A distinctly feminine voice calls. âIs that you?â
âWell,â Jake gives Layla one final pat for good measure, turns his eyes to you as he stands. âShall we?â
You donât mean to be, but youâre nervous again. This is his family, his space, his mother. Not only are you a stranger here, but one thatâs been invited under false pretenses. There are too many things to fuck up, too many ways you could send this evening spinning sideways by accident.Â
Here in the entryway, with just you, Jake, and Layla, things feel peaceful, simple. You know that just a few steps in the direction of his motherâs voice will turn that calm in your chest upside the head. Youâre not ready for it. Youâre not.Â
You donât respond to Jakeâs invitation, but he reads your hesitation all the same.Â
âHey,â he whispers, all the hard edges gone from his voice as he steps a little closer. âSheâs gonna love you.â Again, his hand finds yours, slides his fingers through your own and finds little resistance on your end.Â
She. You donât know how he knows, when you havenât told him, but itâs true. You donât care all that much about pleasing his father and even less so about making a good impression on his brother, but his momâŠÂ
You care. You donât know why, but you care.Â
And you donât know how, but Jake knows.Â
You hope his words arenât empty reassurances as you let him tug at your hand, pull you a little further into his home, wrap you a little more inextricably into the threads of his life.Â
His mother waits for you in the living room. A head or two shorter than her youngest son, she has nothing but a smile for him as she pulls him into a hug, reaching up to wrap her hand around the back of his shoulders.Â
Your hand is still linked with his. The angle makes it somewhat awkward, but neither of you is quite ready to let go.Â
Looking over his shoulder, her eyes settle on you. Breath suddenly stuttering in your chest, your knees feel a little wobbly underneath you.Â
Jake wonât let you fall. As soon as his mother releases her embrace, heâs tugging you closer. He undoes the bind of your hands only to wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side.Â
âMom,â he introduces, smiling. âThis is ___,â eyes locking with yours, he adds , âmy girlfriend.â If you didnât know any better, youâd think he was proud of the fact.
And then his mother is looking at you. Really looking at you. Itâs hard not to wither under her stare, hard not to brace for the results of her inevitable appraisal. But where you expect to see scrutiny, judgment, disdain, you only see a smile. A warm one. A real one.Â
âItâs lovely to meet you,â she says, and you almost have the feeling that she means it.Â
Remembering yourself, your role for the evening, you give her a smile of your own. âItâs lovely to meet you too.â You hope your voice is more steady than it feels. âYou have a beautiful home. Thank you for inviting me to it.â Remembering the bottle of wine still encased in your hold, you hold it out towards her. âAnd this is for you.â
âOh,â she beams, accepting the gift. Reading the label, she admonishes lightly, âYou shouldnât have. How did you know this is my absolute favorite?â
Glancing at her son, you admit, âI may have had some help.â
âWell at least one of us got some guidance.â She leans towards you, pulling your arm into her own and leaving Jake behind the two of you. âTell me, what do you prefer? White or red?â
âUsually white.âÂ
Jake rolls his eyes at your answer, or rather, the brevity of it. According to the stack of papers you made him memorize, your real answer isâŠ
Chardonnay with poultry, sauvignon blanc with seafood, pinot grigio with dessert, pinot noir with red meat (unless itâs ribeye, then cabernet sauvignon)...
But it does make him smile, the way you fall into step at his motherâs side so naturally. The way she makes you flush when she gives you yet another compliment on your hair or your outfit or your beauty.Â
Even the protest dies on his lips when he hears her whisper a little too loudly, âAnd how do you put up with him when heâs in one of his moods? You know, the one where he gets all cranky and canât be reasoned with at all.â
At her side, you just giggle. Jake would be lying if he said he didnât think it was kind of adorable.Â
He likes it, watching you and his mom together. Watching her light up at the chance to finally have a pretty girl to fawn over. His mother loves her sons â Jake has never doubted this for a moment â but thereâs a certain kind of connection that only comes with a daughter.Â
Itâs a shame, he thinks, that your own mother is in the habit of squandering it with criticism and shame and admonishment.Â
Watching the two of you now, Jake isnât sure if heâs ever seen his mom enjoy herself more. When the three of you reach the dining room, she insists that you take the seat directly across from her. Even in her excitement, she wonât let anyone fill the seat next to you except for your boyfriend.Â
Itâs sweet, the way she dotes on you. And Jake is content to just watch, for the time being, hoping you and her both enjoy it as long as you can.Â
Until New Yearâs, that voice in his head reminds him. And suddenly, even with the back half of a semester in front of him, the holidays donât seem so far away.Â
The conversation only dies down slightly when his father and brother enter the room. Even in the comfort of his own home, his father strikes an imposing presence. Heâs not cold when he introduces himself to you, reaching out an arm for a firm handshake, but there is no extra warmth embedded in the action either. After sending his youngest son a nod, he takes his seat at the head of the table.Â
James doesnât bother with formalities. Sliding down next to his mother, heâs already a little smug when he says, âHi Jake.â Pausing, he glances towards you. â___.â
âJames,â you return, smile significantly faker than it was moments ago.Â
Jake is debating how worth it it would be if he kicked his older brother under the table when the first course is brought out, interrupting that train of thought.Â
After passing the first set of dishes around and filling your plates, his mother is the first to pose a question. To test your thorough preparation for the evening.Â
âSo,â she asks, taking a sip of wine. âHow did you two meet?â
And itâs such an obvious question. Such a painfully straightforward inquiry and yet somehow, too wrapped up in getting a contract signed and memorizing each otherâs fun facts, itâs something the two of you completely neglected to cover. Â
You both freeze, absence of a mutually agreed-upon backstory making you look like twin deer in headlights where you sit next to each other.Â
A beat passes. Two.Â
You say, âa mutual friendâ at the same exact moment he says, âa class.â
Passing each other panicked looks, you smooth things over with a shaky, âA mutual friend in our class.â After a steadying breath, you add, âWe have a mutual friend in our class, and he introduced us.â
âOh, how nice.â Jakeâs mom smiles. Turning to her youngest son, she asks, âWhich friend was it? Someone I know?â
âHeeseung,â Jake nods, just as you say, âSunghoon.â
This time, Jake is the one to cover your tracks.Â
âMy friend Heeseung and her friend Sunghoon know each other,â he explains. âI guess itâs technically two mutual friends, since we met through them.â
âAnd all four of you are in the same class together,â Jakeâs mom is still beaming. âThatâs awfully lucky. What a coincidence.âÂ
âYou could say that again,â James mumbles under his breath across the table, decidedly less enchanted by the false tale of your first meeting. And considerably more suspicious. His eyebrow is arched when he asks, âWhat class did you say it was, again?â
Your brain scrambles only for a second. âEcon,â you answer quickly. Jakeâs struggles aside, you figure that it's your best bet, considering that at least two of the four people youâve listed are actually in that class.Â
The glare that strikes the side of your face from Jakeâs seat is frigid enough to kill a houseplant.Â
âEcon,â James echoes flatly. And then something a little sinister enters his eyes. His spine straightens, poised for offense, when he directs to you, âI hope Dr. Kang isnât as much of a hardass as he was when I was in school.â
You open your mouth to reply, probably to bite back with something along the lines of the class actually being rather easy, or you having a stellar rapport with Dr. Kang.
But Jake spots the trap before you can fall into it and cuts you off just as quickly. âItâs Dr. Jeong, actually.â Heâs not glaring at his brother, but thereâs no extra kindness in his stare. âIâm sure you remember, since you always say that he was your favorite professor.â
âOh.â Jamesâ eyes slide to his little brother. âThatâs right. My mistake.â But his words make you think the switch in names was intentional bait, not a lapse in memory. Bait you almost fell for.Â
Before you can let the implications of that sink in, Jakeâs father directs his attention towards you, speaking for the first time. âYouâre a business major, too, then.â Itâs not exactly a question, even though he doesnât know for certain. Even though heâs wrong. But men like Jakeâs father donât get to where they are by asking questions. They get there by making assumptions and talking over everyone else in the room until wills bend to their whim and reality is what theyâve made it.Â
Still, Jakeâs voice is steady when he corrects, âNo sheâs a pre-law major.â
Something flashes in his fatherâs eyes, but he says nothing.Â
His mother, on the other hand, passes her youngest son a look. âI think ___ can speak for herself.â
Itâs under his breath, but just a little too audible for comfort when Jake argues, âNot after I just had to memorizeââ
âThe entire case with me!â The sudden volume of your outburst rings awkwardly in the air. Adjusting your voice, you add to your explanation, âWe got a crazy complicated case assigned in criminal law a couple weeks ago.â If the elbow nudge you give Jake is a little too hard, no one bats an eye at the way he winces slightly. âIâve been talking about it so much Iâm sure Jake has practically memorized it.â
Jakeâs father hears what he wants to. Picks through the pieces of what you say and paints his own picture. âItâs nice to see a young person so dedicated to their studies.â No one at the table misses the way his eyes slide over to his second son. âAnd the family business by extension. Iâve always liked your parents,â he nods to you. âAnd theyâve been excellent partners. Youâre going to law school, then, I assume? After you graduate.â
Jake can practically see the answer you typed out for him, words stamped in his brain from the amount of times he forced himself to look over them. My major is pre-law, youâd written in a font thatâs almost as high maintenance as you. Iâm considering attending law school after finishing undergrad, but Iâm still undecided.Â
But then he hears you say, âThatâs the plan.âÂ
Jake canât quite help the way he glances over at you, a question on his face, written all over his features. The two responses canât hold true at the same time.Â
One of your answers, either the one you typed for him or the one youâve just given his father, is a lie. If the way your shoulders round slightly is any indication, he thinks the packet you gave him must be the real one.Â
But as his father nods at you approvingly across the table, you just smile at Jake. Then you shake your head slightly, almost imperceptibly. He reads it as you intend it â a silent signal to move on and act as if nothingâs amiss. A nonverbal request to just let it go.Â
Across the table from the two of you, his mother is the one to speak next, to divert the conversation from one area of dangerous territory to another. âJames tells me that you two were together at your familyâs fundraiser event.â Like Jake considered earlier, itâs all you can do not to kick him under the table at the reminder. That gossipping little shit. âYouâll have to pass on my apology to your mother that we couldnât make it. But I have to say, Iâm surprised the two of you decided to announce your relationship by attending together.â She frowns, but thereâs a lightness in her tone that tells you sheâs not mad, not really. âAnd I still canât believe you made me hear it from your brother!â
Jake, thankfully, handles that one with ease. âWeâve been keeping things pretty close to the chest these last few weeks.â He glances at you fondly, and you have to applaud him. From the outside, you think it must look quite genuine. âWe just liked each other.â Under the table, he takes your hand back in his. You assume that heâs just caught in the moment, forgets the fact that thereâs no way for his family to see the display of affection. âWe wanted to see where things would go.â Turning back to his mother, he adds, somewhat apologetically, âIt was never meant to be some big announcement. Of course, I would have told you, Mom, when we did actually announce our relationship.â Jake lets his eyes fall on his older brother. âIf someone hadnât beat me to it.â
You can see the way Jamesâ hackles rise, and so can she.Â
Sensing the potential for another argument to brew, his mother cuts in again, smoothing over the tension. âWell, whatâs done is done.â Turning to you, she smiles. âAnd weâre very happy to have you here, ___. I hope my son is treating you well.â
Jake isnât sure how you manage to do it without grimacing, without turning up your nose at the lie, but you assure his mother, âHe is.â And your smile looks almost genuine. âThe very best,âÂ
Jake isnât the only one that seems to think that you mean it. Across the table, his mother swoons while James crumples a little. His father just looks mildly disinterested, if anything.Â
And those expressions remain steady for the rest of the evening, more or less, as you and Jake take turns spinning tales of the early days of your romance. He divulges the details of the outfit you were wearing on your so-called first date (a top with a sweetheart neckline, not off-the-shoulder), and you supplement with a tall tale of the time Jake saved you from getting soaked to the bone when he showed up outside of your lecture hall with an umbrella after a torrential downpour began out of nowhere.Â
After a while, even his beaming mother can only handle so much sappiness, and she begins the end of the evening by excusing herself, referencing an early morning tomorrow as her reason for leaving. After giving you both one final hug, she bids you both goodnight. His father follows soon after, sans hug, leaving the table to take an urgent business call.Â
In an effort to escape James and his wandering eye, Jake is quick to excuse the two of you moments later, whispering some half hearted excuse about giving you a tour of the house. To his credit, he does actually lead you around a handful of rooms on the first floor, but the tour is cut short by the time the two of you go up the stairs and step out onto the outdoor balcony on the second floor.Â
The cool autumn air is refreshing, washes away lingering anxieties from a few close calls, a handful of narrow escapes from certain fiascos. From keeping up your hastily constructed lies for an entire evening.
For long minutes, the two of you are content to say nothing at all. And Jake isnât uncomfortable in the silence, but after a while, he still searches for something to fill it. Something to get a conversation going. Something to see where your head's at. He finally settles on, âI canât believe we forgot to come up with a story of how we met.â
He half expects you to say something scathing. To use your wit to insult or blame him for the lack of foresight, but you donât. Instead, you exhale. And then you agree, somewhat amused, âMe neither.â
âI think we did alright, though,â Jake reasons. He hates to admit it, but, âThat cheat sheet idea of yours came in handy, after all.â
Again, he doesnât get the sarcasm he expects. âNo kidding.â And then youâre the one looking for ways to keep the interaction flowing. Something to fill the silence. âYour mom seems nice.â
âShe is,â Jake nods. And he knew she would like you just as much. âSheâs the person Iâm closest to in my family.â
âMm,â you hum. You can see why. Sheâs warm in a way that your own has never been. But itâs not like Jake exactly got dealt an easy hand when it comes to family members. You mean it when you tell him, âYour brother still sucks.â
Jake just laughs. âAnd I wouldnât hold my breath for that to change anytime soon.â
A half smile pulls at your lips. Itâs replaced by a small frown when you suppose itâs time to comment on the last guest of the evening. âYou were right, in the car. Your dad is⊠intense.â Itâs not like you exactly hit the jackpot of parental relationships, but you canât imagine itâs easy for Jake to have a father like that, to have grown up with those expectations, those scrutinizing eyes, weighing on his shoulders.Â
Instead of responding, Jake just looks at you for a moment. His eyes trace your profile, committing details to memory, as you look out at the night in front of you. And then he says, âCan I ask you something?â
You sigh. Youâre still not looking at him, but you can sense the sudden sincerity in his voice. âArenât you going to anyway?â
Jake shakes his head even though you canât see it. âI wouldnât have asked for permission if I was going to anyway.â
A moment of silence rings in the air. And then, âOkay.â
Jake isnât sure what youâre referring to. âOkay, you agree or okay, I can ask?â
At that, you turn to look at him. âBoth, I guess.â
Jake meets your eye, considers the best way to ask whatâs been weighing on his mind for the better part of the evening. âWhen my dad asked you about law school,â he starts, âwhy did you tell him that youâre planning to go? You wrote that you still arenât sure on the paper you gave me.â
You only pause for a moment. âItâs what he wanted to hear.â
âWhat?â Thereâs no evasiveness in your words, but Jake is still looking for clarity.
Sighing, you elaborate, âYour dad didnât want to hear about my indecisiveness when it comes to the future. He wanted to hear about the plan I have. One that would make sense to him. So I told him what he wanted to hear.â Breaking eye contact, you look back out at the stars. âSometimes, itâs just easier that way.â
But Jake still has one other question. He might be pressing his luck, but he asks anyway, âWhy havenât you decided? About law school, I mean?â
Your gaze lands somewhere in the distance, somewhere it might take light years to reach. âWhat do you want to hear?â
For the second time, Jake asks,âWhat?â
Itâs ironic, almost, how easily youâre able to rifle through his insecurities, his inner thoughts. âWhat do you want to hear? Something that will make you feel better about having questions about your future? Something that will make you believe youâll have everything figured out soon?â The stars blink above you, and you ask him again, âWhat answer do you want to hear from me?â
Jake realizes it then, under the glow of fading moonlight, why youâve always been an image of perfection to him. Itâs not accidental, but itâs also not entirely honest. Perfection, he realizes, is your identity of choice â itâs what you think other people want from you. So you construct it, you practice it, you create it. And then you give it. You let people do what they want with it.Â
But Jake isnât asking about your future career plans because heâs trying to feel better about himself. Heâs not trying to stack up your lives next to each other and see how his compares. Heâs not trying to put cracks in the exterior youâve worked so hard to maintain.
But he does want a glimpse of whatâs underneath. Â
So when he answers, he opts for a third option. âThe truth.â Above you, the moon glows. âI want to hear the truth.â
If it catches you off guard, you recover quickly. Youâre not sure what it is about this moment that has you wanting to spill your guts, but you canât remember the last time someone asked. The last time someone cared.
So you tell him, with all your honesty, âI donât want to go to law school. I never have. My mother has made it clear that thatâs the expectation, though. So I canât decide how willing I am to estrange myself completely. To potentially lose whatâs left of our relationship.â
Jake listens. He hears you. He gets it. âWhat would you do?â
Itâs another answer that comes easy, even though the question hasnât been asked by anyone in a long, long time. âArchitecture.â Your smile is small, but itâs real. âI had a great aunt who was an architect. And she always used to tell me, when I was kid, that the secret is to put a little love into everything you build. It doesnât have to be actual buildings, of course. That was just her thing, yâknow? The thing she could always put a little love into, even on the hard days.â You sigh. âTruth be told, I donât hate law. Itâs interesting, and Iâm good at it. But itâs not something Iâve ever been able to put a little love into.â
You turn to him, words still ringing in the air. You ask, âWhat about you? Was business always your calling?â
If you can give him the truth, Jake supposes he ought to return the favor. âTo be honest, I have no idea. It was never a question. It was always a given that I would study business and take on some kind of role in the company.â He turns over your great auntâs words in his mind. âBut I donât think itâs something I have any love for. Not even a little.â
âSo what would you do?â You echo his question back to him. âIf you could do anything?â
Jakeâs answer comes less easily. âI donât know.â You raise an eyebrow. âI really donât. To be honest, I donât even think I could tell you most of the other majors that are offered at our university. Itâs always been business. Itâs what my whole family does. Even Jay, my closest friend, is a business major too.â Jake realizes how odd that must sound, but itâs true. âItâs all I really know.â
âHm,â you muse. He can see the wheels spinning in your brain, the beginning of an idea. âMaybe itâs time for you to find your thing, then. Somewhere to put your love.â
âYeah, right,â Jake scoffs. He doesnât think thatâs possible, and especially not at this point. âI may not ever be the CEO, but I still donât want my dad to disown me. And besides, weâre in our third year. Not exactly the best time to change my major.â
âYeah,â you agree, but Jake can tell you still havenât quite let it go. âI suppose youâre right.â
This time, when the silence between you returns, you let it linger. With nothing but the pale glow of the night sky and quiet whispers of the wind, long moments bleed into each other. You take it all in, let it all wash over you â the stillness, the chill of an autumn breeze, the presence of the boy at your side. Â
And itâs a long time before either of you moves again.Â
âŠ
At this point, Jake really should be used to ominous, slightly threatening messages from you. Still, he canât help but stutter a bit when he checks his phone after another tutoring session with Jungwon the following week.Â
Without any family events looming on the horizon, you and Jake have had a few days to yourselves without any fake dating facade to follow. Aside from the white lies Jake slips Jungwon every now and then, he hasnât seen or mentioned you since e dropped you back off at your apartment after dinner at his parentsâ house last weekend.Â
His thoughts, however, are an entirely different matter. No matter where he is, what heâs doing, they have the very annoying habit of always straying back to the same scene. A moonlit balcony. A cool autumn breeze. The most scraps of truth heâs ever been given from you at once. A thousand misconceptions shattered and reconstructed all in a single moment.Â
Still, Jakeâ not quite sure how to interpret the message that greets him, other than as a very direct threat.Â
You [7:48 pm]: Meet me at the far end of the quad next to the library tomorrow at 2:45 or Iâm telling your brother we broke up and I have uncontrollable romantic feelings for him
Jake [8:02 pm]: Should I be scared?
Heâs not reassured by your reply.
You [8:04 pm]: :)
So Jake is standing on the far end of the quad, beside the library, the next afternoon at 2:42 when he sees you approaching.Â
The first thing you do when you finally reach him is swat at the baseball cap heâs wearing, knocking it askew. âWhat are you, a frat boy?â
âItâs sunny,â Jake defends, fixing his hat. Something youâre well aware of, if the obnoxiously large sunglasses balanced on the bridge of your nose are anything to go by.
âYou know,â you tilt your head, giving it a second thought. âThe hat might be kind of perfect, actually.â Deciding to divulge the reason for your message, you tell him, âI need you to come somewhere with me.â
âWhat?â Jake balks, suddenly thrown by the lack of details. He needs a little more warning than this, if heâs expected to play the role of your boyfriend convincingly. âIs this,â he leans in close, waits for a group of students to pass by before he whispers apprehensively, âa contract thing?â
âNo,â you shake your head. âI mean, donât like, start hitting on other girls in front of witnesses or anything, but we donât have to act like a couple.â
Now, Jake is even more confused. âThen where are we going?â
Never one to give in easily, all you say is, âYouâll see.â
Jake crosses his arms over his chest. âIâm not going anywhere with you until you give me more information.â
âI literally have Jamesâ phone number in my favorites.â
He holds his ground. âAnd I have the right to know where youâre taking me!â
âUgh,â you roll your eyes. âFine. Weâre going to the Student Union Building.â A multipurpose building in the center of campus, itâs a typical place for events that are too large to be hosted anywhere else. Which really doesnât give Jake much to work with.
âWhy?â His question is slow, suspicious.Â
âMy god.â You throw your hands in annoyance. âIâm going to have to start paying Jungwon double if this is how annoying you are when you have a question about something. Just come with me,â you reiterate. âYouâll see what weâre doing soon enough.â
âButââ
It doesnât matter, youâre already grabbing his hand in yours, more or less dragging him through the quad towards the Student Union Building before he can get his protest out. Jakeâs eyebrows are still creased in confusion when you pull him through the front doors and he sees the unusually large crowd of people inside.Â
Then, he sees the banner hanging from the ceiling. His lips flatten into a thin line.Â
âAbsolutely not.â But youâre already behind him, blocking his exit and pushing him towards the makeshift check-in counter.Â
âHi!â The student employee greets, far too cheerfully in Jakeâs opinion. If she notices the way your knuckles are white around his arm, holding him in place, she doesnât comment on it. Jake pulls his hat down further over his eyes. âAre you two here for the Explore Our Majors event?â
âYep,â you beam. And Jake is actually going to kill you. âIâm in my third year here, but my friend Jaââ
âJacob,â Jake intercedes.Â
âRight.â You spare a glance at him. âMy friend Jacob.â Youâre still way too excited when you lie, âHeâll be a freshman soon, and heâs hoping to look around and see all the different programs that are offered here. Do we need to go in a certain order or anything? Or is there somewhere we need to sign in?âÂ
There better not be. Like hell is he putting the name Jake Sim on a sign-in sheet for a major exploration event for freshmen. Itâs not like his father has time to poke around at things like this, but his claws and connections run deep where this school is concerned. And Jake imagines he would be less than pleased to find out his son is wasting his time doing something so frivolous. Or something that could signal any kind of disinterest in the future thatâs been laid out for him, his eventual place at his fatherâs company.
âNope,â she smiles. âEach major has its own table, and majors are grouped by college. So all the STEM tables are over there, for example,â she points over to where a group of high school seniors are flipping through pamphlets. âYou can just wander around as you like and chat with the people at the tables. Thereâs a mix of students and faculty. Oh, and each major should have a pamphlet you can pick up too, if youâd like.â
âGreat,â you grin back. âThank you.â
Again, if she sees the way you practically have to yank Jake by the arm to get him to move, she doesnât comment on it. But once youâre out of earshot, he does lean down to hiss in your ear, âWhy the fuck are we at the Explore Our Majors event for incoming freshmen?â
âWhy do you think?â Your voice is entirely too loud. He has half a mind to slap his palm over your mouth to prevent you from spilling his secrets here in the middle of the Student Union Buildingâs largest event hall. âWeâre finding you somewhere to put your love.â The large group of girls that walks by do a double take and then proceed to take turns shooting him death glares.Â
Jake panics. âWould you stop saying it like that?â
You roll your eyes, paying the group of girls and his worries no mind. âDonât knock my great aunt. Anyway, where do you want to start? Should we go over to the STEM tables?â Pausing to consider, you ask, âOr is your performance in econ more indicative of your math and science skills in general? We could look for liberal arââ
âI just told you this weekend that I was good at physics.â It may have been a white lie, but whoâs keeping track?Â
âOh, right.â You nod, eyes already searching for the table in question. âShould we go there, then?â
âNo,â Jake shakes his head immediately. âI was good at it.â Questionable. âBut I didnât really like it.â A lot more true.Â
âAlright,â you agree. Spinning to look in the other direction, you take him with you âHumanities it is. Or we could always go the fine arts route.â You turn to look at him for a moment, assessing. âYou know, I feel like you would actually be a great dancer. You have the face for it.â
âHas that ever made sense to anyone youâve said it to?â
âWouldnât know.â You shrug. âYouâre the first.â Trying not to read too much into that, Jake lets you pull him along until youâre standing in front of a table with a rather gaudy âJournalismâ banner hanging on the front.Â
âHi,â you smile at the students standing behind it. Jake pulls his hat down a little further. You donât know a whole lot about journalism other than the basics, but youâre pretty sure theyâre also in charge of student media on campus. âYou guys run the student newspaper, right?âÂ
Picking up a pamphlet, you nod as the boy behind the table answers brightly, âYeah, we do.â Heâs proud when he adds, âOur last issue was one of our most read yet. We ran a really great article on the front page about the importance of understanding how economic trends affect our daily livesââ
Delicately setting the pamphlet back down on the table, you glance at Jake before apologizing to the overeager boy, âIâm sorry, but I think Jacob and I are gonna head to the next table.âÂ
ANd then youâre dragging him along again.
âOkay,â you turn to Jake once youâre out of earshot, âSo thatâs a veto for journalism. What about other kinds of writing? You point to a table a few rows away. Thereâs the creative writing table.â
Jake shakes his head. âEven discussion board posts are like pulling teeth.â
âNoted.â Your jaw sets with a little too much determination for his liking. âMinimal writing it is, then.âÂ
The two of you pass several more tables in the same fashion, Jake shutting each one down before you have a chance to so much as grab a pamphlet.Â
Thereâs history, but who cares about dead people? English, but heâs seen the career outlook and heâd rather not study unemployment, thank you very much. Sociology, but he already lives in society. Why would he waste his time studying it?
Finally, you point out a major that he doesn't have anything scathing to say about within the first five seconds. âGraphic design,â you nod towards the table a few spots away. âThat could be interesting.â
Jake hates to admit it, but he kind of thinks so too. He does think visual design is pretty interesting, and marketing and advertising have always been some of his favorite aspects of business. Heâs about to say fuck it and fully embrace Jacob the incoming freshman when he notices one glaring problem. The graphic design table is set up right next to the business table.Â
A nonissue, really, except for the fact that students are helping to run this event. And as you drag him closer, Jake realizes with mounting dread that he recognizes one of the faces spending an afternoon trying to convince high schoolers that choosing a business major will change their lives for the better.Â
He turns to make a break for it before you can reinforce your grip on his arm and physically drag him with you, but itâs too late.Â
âJake?â he hears a horribly familiar voice call. âIs that you?â Turning around slowly, he knows heâ been caught. Jake kind of wishes the ground would open up and swallow him. The only thing he wants to do is melt into the floor.Â
âIt is you,â Jay says upon closer inspection. And because you seem so hellbent on making his life even more painful, you pull him with you until the two of you are right in front of his best friend. âWhat the hell are you doing here?â Jay asks him. âYou said you had a date.â
Butting in on the conversation, your smile is entirely too smug when you turn to Jake. âYou said what now?â
Glancing at you, Jayâs eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. âYou were telling the truth? Dude, thatâs even worse.â Jay looks at you almost like heâs trying to apologize on behalf of his friend. âYouâre not exactly wine-ing and dining her, here.â
âHi,â you introduce, extending a hand. Jay shakes it warily. âIâm ___. JakeâsâŠâ you search for a good term to use, and finally, with a private smile, settle on, âplus-one.â
âTo an Explore Our Majors event?â That clears up none of Jayâs confusion. He turns back to Jake. âWhat the hell? Are you going on dates with incoming freshmenââ
âThis is my third year,â you interrupt again. âWeâre just looking around.â
âHold on,â Jay pauses, a flash of recognition crossing his features as he studies you for a moment. âYouâre the ___ that Jake was trying to get a phone number from for his brother, right? Is that whatâs going on? Are you making him do a bunch of stupid shit like this to get it?â
You shrug, glancing at Jake. âYou could say that.â
Jake has to give it to you. Youâre a lot better at beating around the bush, at avoiding giving straight answers about the nature of your relationship, than he is. Jay looks more confused than anything at your evasiveness. If James were to somehow hunt him down and inquire about the validity of your relationship, Jake is positive that his friend would have absolutely no idea how to answer.Â
A reassuring idea, other than the fact that Jake is also sure Jay will be hunting him down after this to get the real story, since he couldnât get it from you. Targeting the weaker prey, a classic strategy.Â
âAnyway,â you build yourself an out. âWeâre gonna go check out the graphic design table.â
You tug at Jakeâs wrist, but he stands his ground this time. Thoroughly embarrassed and done letting you pull him around, he tries to back you into a corner with one of your tricks from the fundraiser. âWe should get going, actually,â he argues pointedly. âLook at the time. We donât want to be late forâŠâ Unfortunately, heâs still no better at coming up with excuses, âthat thing.â
You roll your eyes at the obvious trick. âDonât worry.â Your smile is sugary, but your eyes flash with warning. âI canceled it. Letâs go.â
This time when you redouble your efforts to drag him to the graphic design table, he has no choice but to follow, a little miserably. Behind the business table, Jay has zero idea what to make of what he just witnessed.
As the students at the graphic design table start their spiel, Jake is glad at least one of you is paying attention. You nod along enthusiastically while the student representative talks your ear off about the pros and cons of various online photo editing programs, asking well-timed follow-up questions as you expertly skim the pamphlet youâre handed simultaneously.Â
Jake, on the other hand, still coming down from the mortification of being caught, is suddenly a little caught up in the way your hand is still wrapped around his wrist. A light pressure he could easily work his way out of. But despite himself, heâs having a hard time coming up with any motivation to do so.Â
Distantly, he concentrates on the sensation. Your skin is soft, warm. The gentle pressure of your fingers is a tether to you. And in this moment, itâs a reminder that out of everyone in his life, youâre the first to be so obnoxiously concerned with what his interests are, where his passions lie.Â
Despite his rightful protests against attending this event, he can read your intentions behind bringing him here. And it would be a lie if he said he didnât appreciate them, just a little.Â
At this point in his life and academic career, he feels a little bit like a toddler youâve thrown in a pool to try and teach to swim. Itâs hard for him to tread water, to keep his head above the waves, when the solid ground heâs used to is suddenly replaced by new matter entirely.Â
But if Jake is sure of one thing, itâs that he wonât drown. How could he, with the lifeline of your arm still reaching out towards him? With the steadiness of your fingers still wrapped around him? He thinks you just might save him too, if you saw him drowning. Would pull him in and teach him to float on his back. To work with the water instead of against it.Â
To swim, even when the water gets rough.Â
At your side, terms like visual communications and web design and typography all blur together. And Jakeâs focus is still narrowed in on the pulse point on his wrist, the way his heartbeat is entrusted in your unwavering grip.
âŠ
Jake has a well-practiced routine for checking his econ grade whenever results of a new assignment or exam are posted.Â
First, he makes sure that anything fragile or breakable is out of his reach. Then, he lights a scented candle. Setting the new one he just bought a few days ago on his desk, he checks the label again. Lavender Dreams. Itâs all he can do not to laugh, a little miserably. Well, he supposes, thinking back to your words a couple of weeks ago, time to find out if lavender is actually calming.Â
Third, he makes sure he has no other important plans for the day. Nowhere else to be, nothing to do that he canât show up for in a ruined mood. Because that is usually what happens during this little ritual of his.
Finally, his last step is to look up at the ceiling of his bedroom, imagine the sky above it, and whisper one, desperate, âPlease.â
Then he sits at his desk and opens his laptop to greet his fate with a grimace and a racing heart. Today, Jake follows all the same steps until heâs navigating to his universityâs learning management platform. He clicks on the Econ tab, slowly releases a breath he wasnât meaning to hold.Â
His shoulders tense at the notification of a newly inputted grade that pops up, the icon begging for his attention. He inhales deeply, letting the smell of lavender enter his nose and hopefully work some magic in his nervous system.Â
Maybe he should adjust his ritual, he thinks, mouse hovering over the new grade notification. Maybe he should start burning incense or something, cleansing the air of any bad energy before he looks. In his indecision, his finger slips, presses, clicks.Â
And Jake doesnât quite have time to screw his eyes shut before the number flashes on his screen.Â
Oh, he is so fucked.
So, so, so, terribly, absolutely, completely fucked.Â
It shouldnât be a surprise at this point, that the score of his latest homework problem set is aâ
Wait.Â
Jake opens his eyes, just barely, peeking at the screen again.Â
82.
Jake pauses for a moment. His eyes open completely. His brow pulls down in confusion.Â
82. He double checks to make sure heâs seeing the grade correctly, that the numbers havenât somehow been reversed.Â
They havenât. 82. Itâs his real, true, honest to god score. Itâs a B. A low B, but thatâs still the highest econ grade Jake has seen since his third round of the syllabus quiz.
Oh my god. Oh my god.Â
Jake kind of doesnât know what to do with his body, with all of the extra energy he suddenly has. In that moment, he thinks he could do anything. If Jungwon were here, Jake thinks he might actually kiss him on the mouth.Â
82. Itâs not enough to save his grade, not yet. But if itâs a trend that continues, Jake Sim just might finally pass econ.Â
He goes to text his tutor the good news, to confirm their next session, but finds that Jungwon has beat him to it. Fingers still slightly shaky from the excess of nerves, he reads the new messages.Â
Yang Jungwon (Econ Tutor) [7:03 pm]: Hey, I saw that the latest homework grades were released. Lmk how you did!
Yang Jungwon (Econ Tutor) [7:04 pm]: Also, sorry to do this kind of last minute, but Iâm not gonna be able to meet you at our regular time tomorrow. We could reschedule if thereâs another time that works for you? Or we could just wait and meet again next week.Â
Frowning, Jake reads the message again. Heâs still riding the high of a B- and is reluctant to do anything that might prevent it in the future, including missing a tutoring session.Â
Jake [7:10 pm]: Is there any way we could still meet tomorrow? Maybe before our usual time.Â
Jake [7:10 pm]: And I got an 82! Youâre actually a lifesaver
Yang Jungwon (Econ Tutor) [7:12 pm]: Thatâs great!Â
Yang Jungwon (Econ Tutor) [7:12 pm]: Iâm sorry, but I donât think tomorrow afternoon will work either. Iâm going to the university skating competition to support a friend
Yang Jungwon (Econ Tutor) [7:12 pm]: You probably know him actually. Him and ___ are good friends too lol. Itâs Park Sunghoon
Jake rereads the message, sighs. He supposes it makes sense. He canât really fault his godsend of a tutor for wanting to support a long-time friend at one of the most important competitions of his season. Still, Jakeâs a little slammed this week, and the thought of missing a tutoring session is enough to sober him from the thrill of his latest assignment grade.Â
Park Sunghoon. Jake has only met him once â in search of you, or rather, your phone number â and he doubts Sunghoon remembers much of that interaction. Jake doesnât really know anything about him, other than the fact that heâs rumored to be one of the best skaters to come through this school and that heâs apparently good friends with both you and Jungwonâ
Wait.Â
Oh no. Oh no.Â
Jungwon canât go to Sunghoonâs skating competition tomorrow. Because Jake is almost positive youâll be there too, is pretty sure you and Jungwon are probably going together. If thereâs a flare of jealousy in his gut, heâll ignore it for now. He has bigger problems.
Namely, the fact that Jungwon is under the impression that you and Jake are dating. Officially dating, since he knows that Jake took you to meet his family this last weekend. Quite seriously dating, if the lovesick expression on Jakeâs face every time he talks about you in front of Jungwon is anything to go by.Â
And the sole reason Jungwon is under that impression is because Jake couldnât keep his big mouth shut. Because he essentially told him, flat out, that the two of you are very much enjoying the honeymoon phase of your relationship.Â
Still working in a cloud of panic, Jake leaves Jungwon on read for the time being and sends a message to you instead.Â
Jake [7:17 pm]: What time is Sunghoonâs thing tomorrow? Iâll pick you up
You [7:18 pm]: ???Â
You [7:18 pm]: What the fuck?
Before he can think of a reply to type, Jakeâs phone screen is overtaken by an incoming call notification. One that he knows better than to ignore, even as something in his shrivels a little.Â
âHello?â He answers, wheels in his brain spinning as he tries to come up with some sort of explanation on the spot.Â
You donât waste any time. âHow do you even know about Sunghoonâs competition? And what do you mean youâll pick me up?â On the bright side, you donât sound angry, at least. Just very confused.Â
âJungwon mentioned it to me.â Jake decides he can at least be honest about that. âHe had to cancel our tutoring session tomorrow.â
âSo what?â Even through the phone, Jake can sense your exasperation. âYou thought you could squeeze in some econ notes at the athletics center? My god, you are so persistent about the worst things. Leave poor Jungwon alone.â
Poor Jungwon. Poor Jungwon.Â
Jakeâs tone is a little less even when he clarifies, âNo, it has nothing to do with econ. I just want to come with you. To, uh⊠to support Sunghoon.â Itâs a weak explanation, even to his own ears.Â
âYou donât know him.â Your voice is flat.
âWeâve talked,â Jake argues.
âYouâve had one conversation. He thought your name was Jacob.â
âWhich turned out to be a very useful alias for me.â At the event for incoming freshmen you dragged him to unwillingly. âI owe him one.â
Thereâs an extended silence on your end.Â
Jake begs a little more. âI let you drag me to that stupid event last week. You know, I had to run, actually, full on run, away from Jay the other day so he couldnât ask me about it. Just let me come with you tomorrow.âÂ
You hesitate. âI might, if you tell me why you want to go so badlââ
âFine,â Jake sighs. âYou caught me. My secret passion in life is actually figure skating. I didnât start training young enough, so now I have to live vicariously throughââ
âYou are so fucking annoyingâ But it works. âFine.â
âFine, as in, I can come?â Jake knows better than to sound too hopeful.Â
You refuse to answer him directly. âBe at my apartment by four-thirty tomorrow. If youâre even a second late, Iâm leaving without you.â
On the other line, Jake lets his fist fly into the air in silent celebration. Into the receiver of his phone, he says calmly, âGreat. Iâll pick you up, then.â
You hang up without bothering to respond, and Jake returns Jungwonâs message.Â
Jake [7:26 pm]: Letâs just plan to meet next week for tutoring. And thanks for the reminder. You kind of saved me again, actually. Iâll see you tomorrow at the competition
Sighing, Jake sets his phone down.Â
For the moment, the crisis is averted, at least partially. But Jake knows heâll have his real work cut out for him tomorrow. As he turns it around in his brain, the celebratory feeling in his chest slowly begins to morph into dread.Â
How on earth is he going to sit through an entire evening with you and Jungwon without the illusion shattering one way or another? It feels like an impossible task.Â
But then he takes a long inhale of lavender-scented air, looks back at the proud B- still displayed on his laptop screen. If he can pull that off, he thinks he just might be able to do anything.Â
âŠ
Itâs a confidence that Jake is finding hard to rediscover the following afternoon. Just after three, every ounce of self-assuredness Jake has ever had is slowly draining from his body as the clock ticks closer and closer to four-thiry with every passing second.Â
Standing in front of his mirror, Jake canât decide how he feels about the black button-down heâs wearing. Is it too much? Not enough?Â
He knows heâs probably overthinking it, but heâs about to spend an entire evening sitting with you and Jungwon, watching Sunghoon. If you donât think he looks at least a little good in comparison, something in his pride is going to be very, very wounded.Â
On the other side of his bedroom door, Jake can hear Jay poking around in his kitchen. After a few days of successfully dodging him, his best friend finally snuck his way into his apartment under the guise of delivering a package. Still a little terrified to face him and the questions heâll inevitably ask, Jake has been hiding in his room since his arrival.Â
He curses the situation now. If nothing else, Jay could at least provide a set of fashion-forward eyes to help him choose his outfit of the evening. But that would also involve explaining where heâs going, which would only send Jayâs suspicions about you and Jake skyrocketing.Â
Unlike you, Jake is not particularly well-versed in avoiding leading questions. In fact, he regularly does the opposite, if his interactions with Jungwon are anything to go by.Â
Somewhat regrettably, he decides heâll have to use his own intuition for this one.Â
That turns out to mean that Jake spends the next forty minutes trying on half of his closet, pulling out shirts that he hasnât seen since middle school and watching the pile of rejected options pile up on his chair as uncertainties pile up in his gut.Â
Finally, he lands on the black button-up he was wearing originally and decides to make the disaster of his room a problem for later. Glancing at the clock, he realizes with a bit of dread that he needs to head out soon if he doesnât want to miss your threat of a deadline. But then his eyes land on the small handful of ornate bottles on top of his dresser, and he suddenly has a new problem.Â
Running low on both steam and time, Jake decides that facing whatever Jay has in store for him is better than trying to make this last decision on his own. So he scans that array of bottles, picks his two favorite scents, and opens the door to his bedroom slowly, doing his best to delay the inevitable inquisition.Â
Stepping out warily, he sees that Jay has moved from the kitchen to the living room and is currently snacking on a sandwich he made with whatever ingredients he found in Jakeâs fridge as he watches something on the TV.Â
âHey, Jay?â Jake calls out, a little hesitantly.Â
âWhat?â Jay doesnât even turn to look at him. âOh, you decided youâre talking to me again?â
âIâm sorry,â Jake searches for a feasible explanation for his avoidance. Finding nothing solid, he settles with the classically vague, âIâve been busy.â
âDoing what? Training for a marathon? I canât believe you actually ran from meââ
âI realized I forgot my computer at the library,â Jake lies. âI wanted to go back and grab it before it got stolen.â
âWhatever.â Jay doesn't buy it for a second. But he is eating Jakeâs food, so he figures he owes him a little. âWhat do you want?âÂ
Jake moves to stand next to his couch, careful not to block Jayâs view of the TV and annoy him further. Tentatively, Jake holds out the two bottles of cologne. âWhich one of these smells better?â
Jay sends Jake a look of disbelief, sets his sandwich down on the coffee table. âDo I look like a fucking Macyâs employee to you?â
âJust help me out,â Jake pleads. âPlease,â he adds for good measure.
Jay stares at him blankly for a moment longer. âWell, it depends,â He finally concedes. âThe Yves Saint Laurent has more of a causal vibe, and the Giorgio Armani feels like youâre trying a little harder, like you want to be impressive and you donât care if people know that.âÂ
And then he takes a closer look at Jake. At the way his hair has been perfectly styled to look just the right amount of intentionally messy, at the outfit heâs wearing.Â
âHold on, what are you so worked up about?â Jayâs eyes narrow in on his shirt. âAnd is that Prada? Itâs four in the afternoon on a Thursday. Where the hell are you going?â
âNowhere,â Jake replies too quickly, already beginning to retreat to the safety of his bedroom before he can be questioned further.Â
Jay turns in his seat, eyes following Jake accusingly the whole time. âYouâre meeting ___, arenât you? Whatâs going on between the two of you anyway? Why are you being so weird?â
Jake pretends not to hear his friend, closing the door behind him and he looks for his coat in the mess of his room. Finding it, he pulls his arms through the sleeves. Stopping at the mirror, he gives himself one final once-over before turning to leave again. Right before he does, he pauses, weighs his options as he weighs Jayâs advice. And then he reaches for the bottle of Giorgio Armani, sprays it twice for good measure. Before he can psych himself out again, he heads for the front door.Â
He almost makes it, too, but before he can slip out, Jay asks him one last question. âJust answer this,â he bargains from his seat on the couch. âAre you meeting ___?â
âNone of your businessâ is the only answer he gets as Jake leaves his apartment, quickly closing the door behind him to cut off any other opportunities for Jay to catch him in a white lie.Â
And when Jake arrives at your apartment, he has seven minutes to spare. Sending you a message of his arrival, he makes his way to the lobby to greet you.Â
âMr. Sim,â your doorman nods coolly.Â
âElton,â Jake returns, equally as frigid as he reads the middle-aged manâs name tag.Â
Thankfully, you donât keep him waiting long. You make your way down to the lobby before Jake and your doorman have the chance to exchange a few more choice words.
Despite the initial turmoil and the current state of his bedroom, Jake is more than pleased with the clothing choices he landed on for the evening when he sees you.Â
It would be hard to claim that the two of you are matching, exactly, considering how simple both of your outfits are. But as he watches you approach him in a black sweater and light jeans, Jake likes the way it almost looks as if the two of you did it by accident. Synced up so well that even your closets align without you meaning to.Â
And he likes the way it looks like the two of you go together, two pieces of a matching set.
Giving your doorman one last parting wave, the walk to Jakeâs car is short. He doesnât offer to pull the car around this time, mostly because the white sneakers on your feet are a lot more conducive to walking that your heels for the fundraiser a couple of weeks ago. Â
âI assume weâre heading to the Ice Sports Center,â Jake says, putting the car in reverse as he backs out of his parking spot.Â
âYeah,â you nod. Much to his relief, youâre not projecting any annoyance. At least not yet. âBut weâre picking up Jungwon first.âÂ
âWhat?â Jake balks, suddenly reminded of the awful tightrope heâs about to be walking all evening. The way heâs somehow supposed to keep Jungwon thinking that the two of you are enamored with one another without you finding out that he divulged the nature of your fake relationship to your friend.Â
Mistaking his apprehension for annoyance, you shake your head. âYouâre so mean,â you accuse. âFirst you invade our evening and then you complain about picking him up? The poor guy already has to put up with you all night. The least you could do is spare him an Uber ride.â
Jake suddenly has another bone to pick. âFirst of all, why do the the two of you even need an eveningââ
âBecause I never get to see him!â A bit dejectedly, you add, âBetween classes and tutoring and his internship, he never has any free time.â
Jake wonders, somewhat vindictively, if he could start requesting additional tutoring sessions. Burn up whatever remnants of time the kid has to dedicate to you.Â
Instead, he relents. Heâs not going to win any favor from you by doing anything to Jungwon. Not that he needs your favor, of course. Not that he even wants it.Â
So Jake just asks you to give him Jungwonâs address and plots it into his phoneâs GPS without another complaint. But as the estimated arrival time begins to dwindle, so does Jakeâs confidence that he can pull this evening off.Â
With just a few minutes to go, he decides that honestly might be his only way out of this mess.Â
Turning to you slowly, he says, âSo, I kind of have to tell you something.â
You groan. âI hate the way you just said that. Please tell me Iâm not also going to hate whatever it is youâre about to tell me.â
Jake hesitates, âI mean, I canât predict the futureââ
You read his guilt like an open book. Flatly, you ask, âWhat did you do?â
Jake is quick to go on the defensive. âWhy are you assuming itâs my faultââ
Youâre not in the mood for his evasiveness. âWhat did you do?â
It comes out all in a rush, sounds like one long word as Jake lets the truth spill out. âI might have accidentally told Jungwon that you and I are dating.â
Somehow, you understand just as well as you would have if he enunciated clearly. Your voice is dangerously low. âHow, pray tell, did you accidentally tell your econ tutor that you and I are dating?â
âIt just came out, I swear!â Jake tries to dig himself out. âYou came up somehow, and I mentioned the dinner at my parents house. One thing led to another, and now he thinks that weâre dating.â
Youâre still livid, not accepting his threadbare explanation. âI could sue you, you know. You signed a legal document agreeing to not tell our friends and acquaintances anything about our agreement.â
Jake calls your bluff. âThat thing is not legally binding, and you know it. Besides, the wording on that part is so vague, Iâm sure there are a million loopholes. No judge would uphold that in court.â
âOh, so now youâre a contract expertââ
âLook, Iâm sorry,â Jake interrupts, deciding that neither defense or offense are likely to get him much of anywhere. Maybe an apology will do him one better. âI know we agreed to not get our friends involved, but it really wasnât on purpose.â It kind of very much was, but he figures you donât need to know that. âI just⊠Can we pretend, just for tonight?â It sounds reasonable enough to him. After all, âItâs no different than what weâve done so farââ
âYes it is,â you argue. Your fury has evaporated slightly, now just simmering in his passenger seat. But Jake still doesn't get it. âJungwon is my friend. He knows me, the real me. Iâm not trying to keep up appearances around him. I donât want to lie to him, and especially not about something like my relationships. Especially because heâs going to think that Iâm the one thatâs been lying to him about it.â The more you say, the worse Jake starts to feel. âI told him you were my friend.â
It wasnât about you being embarrassed of Jake or not wanting Jungwon to think that you would ever consider dating him. It was because Jungwon is one of the few people that gets you, that really gets you. Itâs because heâs one of your few real friends, someone you donât have to lie to. Someone who accepts your truths as they come.Â
âI know.â For the first time, Jakeâs short-sighted solution to his jealousy doesnât feel so satisfying. He hadnât considered this, the potential fallout on your end. How you would feel about lying like this to someone that youâre genuinely close to. All he can say is, âIâm sorry. I know I fucked up.â
You just give him a long look, silence building between the two of you as you weigh a million responses on your tongue and let all of them die, one by one, before breathing life into any of them.Â
âIâŠâ you finally say. âItâs whatever.â Itâs not. Jake can hear it in your tone of voice, can read it in the way your lips twist. âLetâs just do it,â you agree to his original request. Jake isnât sure why he canât find it in himself to feel good about it. âLetâs just pretend for tonight.âÂ
Jake doesnât know what to say, canât find the words to remedy the situation. Still, your name is a quiet whisper on his breath. He feels like heâs begging, pleading. For what, heâs not entirely sure.Â
You just shake your head, looking out of the windshield. âWeâre here.â
And you are. Jungwon, completely oblivious to your conversation, is all smiles where he waits outside his apartment building, sending you and Jake both a friendly wave before jogging over to the car and sliding into the back seat.Â
âHey Jake, ___,â he greets, unaware of the stifling tension heâs just walked into. âThanks for picking me up, by the way. You have a really nice car.â
And Jungwon is so nice, Jake thinks. So nice and considerate and genuinely pleasant to be around. Things that he controls, things that Jungwon wakes up every day and decides to be. Things that make you like him, want to be his friend.
Things that Jake, as he glances to where youâre still nursing your wounds in his passenger seat, understands with a sickening realization that he has not been. At least not to you.Â
And Jake could pin the blame on a million different excuses. His father or the tight constraints of his life or the way he feels like nothing has ever really belonged to him. But when he looks at you, at your hurt, he knows that his lack of consideration for your feelings is all of his own doing.Â
Jakes turns back to Jungwon for a moment, tells him, âNo problem. Iâm glad we could all go together.â And then he puts his eyes back on the road ahead of him and makes the decision to take a little more ownership of the things he can control. To do his very best to be a little better. To try, really try, to put a little love into the things he builds.
So Jake doesnât protest, when you arrive at the ice rink and slide down into the middle seat, next to both him and Jungwon. Doesn't let the unpleasant feeling that rises in his gut when you give Sunghoon a massive bouquet of flowers and a warm hug after his program do anything but simmer. Doesnât make his feelings your problem, a fire for you to put out.Â
When he excuses himself to the bathroom, he tries not to let the imagined possibilities of what you and Jungwon might be talking about in his absence make him do something stupid.Â
Besides, everything heâs thinking of is far off the mark anyway.Â
As soon as heâs out of earshot, Jungwon turns to you and smiles. âYou and Jake, huh?â He nudges you with his elbow. âI canât believe you didnât tell me. Actually,â he amends, âI can believe that. What I can believe is that you lied.â The accusation is light, teasing. It still hits you like a sucker punch. âYou said you two were just friends.â
But your hurt feelings wonât help you here, and you have tracks to cover. Jake didnât tell you what he told Jungwon, not exactly, so youâll have to do your best not to unravel any of the lies heâs already spun.Â
âItâs new,â you try to explain, thinking of something that would make sense, that would wound Jungwon the least. âI havenât really told anyone.â You mean it when you say, âBut I am sorry for lying.â You wish you werenât doing it still. You wish you could tell him the truth.
âFine.â Itâs an apology Jungwon accepts easily, even if he pretends to hold onto it a little longer. âYouâre forgiven. But only because his car is really nice.â And then, âHeâs good to you?â
âYeah,â you echo the same words you told his mother a handful of evenings ago. âThe best.â
âGood.â Jungwon nods. If thereâs wistfulness there, itâs overtaken by his genuine desire to see you happy. âYou deserve that.â
Youâre not sure why you feel like crying, why everything about this conversation, this situation, suddenly feels so wrong.
âThanks, Wonie.â You melt a little at his earnestness, the childhood nickname slipping out with your fondness. This is what you were afraid of, what you wanted to avoid. Itâs not fair for him, not okay with you that Jungwon is wasting his sincerity on a lie, a false relationship. Itâs hollow when you say, âThat means a lot.â
Whatever reply Jungwon has dies on his lips as Jake finds the two of you again, slides back into his seat. As the rest of the evening passes, your lingering hurt starts to make room for something else. Youâre not sure what to make of how undeniably easy it all is. How natural it feels to be sat in between your childhood friend and your fake boyfriend, trading jokes and smiles and stories that take no effort and make the time fly by.Â
When Jake finally drops you back off at your apartment a few hours later, your anger is mostly gone. And unlike him, you were never particularly good at physics, but you do remember the conservation of mass â how things can change and transform but are never truly destroyed. In the absence of anger, youâre not entirely sure what emotions are beginning to overflow in their stead.Â
But when Jake whispers, âGoodnightâ from the driverâs seat of his car, itâs a sentiment thatâs easy to return.Â
âŠ
As the month just before the holidays tends to do, the rest of the semester passes in a blur of late night study sessions, half-finished assignments, and a concerning amount of caffeine. Both of you slammed with responsibilities of your own, Jake hardly even sees you in those last few weeks. Instead, the promise of the holidays and your familyâs upcoming New Yearâs Eve party are threats that loom on the rapidly approaching horizon.Â
This, then, is a small time apart from each other before your fake-dating responsibilities kick into full gear. Before they eventually as soon as the clock strikes midnight on the last day of December and your contract dissolves just as the year does.Â
And at this point, thatâs a concern for the future. Right now, Jake is too busy trying to pass his classes to have any brainwidth left to worry about other things. Namely, his econ term paper. The hours that he spends alone with his laptop, forgetting to do much of anything else, veer towards a number that is more than a little concerning.
But thanks to his sessions with Jungwon, a report card without any Fs is looking like an actual possibility for him this semester. So Jake doubles down and presses onwards, goes hours and sometimes even days hardly talking to anyone, just to make sure that every last detail, every last word, is as impeccable as possible.Â
And a few weeks later, just as the first half of December draws to a close, Jake finds himself back at his desk, lavender candle lit, pleading with invisible deities as he opens his laptop to check his final econ grade.Â
He lets one breath pass. Another.Â
Slowly, he opens one eye.Â
And there it is, on the screen in front of him. His final econ grade.Â
73. A solid C. A fucking C.Â
He did it. He actually did it. On his third go around, Jake Sim passed econ. And that alone calls for celebration.Â
Itâs nearly the first time heâs seen you since Sunghoonâs competition when you and Jungwon show up at his apartment by surprise with a custom ordered cake the next day.Â
Predict THIS trend, Wall Street, the royal blue icing reads. Jake Sim passed econ!!!!!!
And then it really is the end of the semester, and the three of you are parting ways for winter break. With nearly a month of rest from studies and schoolwork, you and Jake finalize the details of your last two public appearances as a couple.Â
The first is set to be at Jakeâs parentsâ house. Itâs not so much an event as it is the two of you exchanging gifts, making sure that there are witnesses around to corroborate your affection. And the second, of course, will be the New Yearâs Eve party at your family's home.Â
The timeline gives you about a week to finalize your gift to him, something that has proven to be much more difficult than you were hoping. Despite your suggestion that the two of you just pick out your own gifts in advance and say that theyâre from each other, Jake has insisted on going the traditional route. On surprising you.Â
So when you show up at his family's home a few days before Christmas, a small red gift bag in hand, itâs with a bit of trepidation that the present inside will fall flat of whatever expectations your fake boyfriend may have.Â
Moments later, with the glow of the fireplace casting a cozy glow on his living room, Jake holds a self-warming coffee mug in his hands.Â
You feel a bit foolish as you reach for your rehearsed explanation, cite the one time heâd complained about his coffee going cold before he had the chance to drink it. But Jake insists that he loves it, assures you that heâll put it to good use.Â
And when your turn comes to open his gift, you do your best to ignore the slight shake in your fingers as you untie the bow on the small jewelry box he hands you.Â
Sliding the lid off, itâs all you can do for a moment to stare.Â
âOh.â The golden chain of the necklace is delicate, fragile. But itâs the charm at the center that has you suddenly breathless. Itâs a tiny, intricate outline of a house, the same shimmery gold as the chain. The color he memorized as your favorite. And in the center of the miniature home is an impossibly smaller outline of a heart. âOh.â
Your soft words ring in the air for a moment as your fingers hover over the gift, unmoving.
Mistaking your lack of feedback for distaste, Jake is quick to explain, somewhat sheepishly. âItâs, uh,â he scratches at the back of his neck. âItâs supposed to be like what your great aunt said. Yâknow, âput a little love into everything you build.â If you donât like it, I canââ
You shake your head. âI love it.â It makes your gift to him pale in comparison. The truth rattles in your brain a little too harshly. You got him a coffee mug, and he got you this. Something so obviously wrapped up in thoughtfulness and care and affection. But comparison is the last thing on his mind.Â
âI⊠You do?â His uncertainty is still written all over his face. âYou donât have to just say that. Really, it wonât offend me ifââ
âJake,â you look up at him, put your hand on his chest. Physical touch is the only way you can think to stop his rambling. âItâs perfect. I love it. I really, really do.â Glancing back down at his gift, you smile. His eyes are suddenly wide, from your sincerity or your touch, youâre not sure. âHelp me put it on?
Jake nods, swallows audibly. You retract your hand from his chest, let it fall back to your side as you hand him the jewelry box. Carefully, delicately, intentionally, he takes the necklace out, lets it dangle between long fingers.Â
And then heâs moving to stand behind you. The sudden heat of his body is a lure for your senses, a focal point you canât pull your thoughts away from.Â
âIâŠâ He breathes, words suddenly a little strained. You feel the warmth of his words along the length of your spine, deep in your bones. Settling somewhere in the pit of your stomach. âCould you move your hair?â
It makes you feel vulnerable, when you acquiesce to his request, exposing the bare skin of your neck as you pull your hair to the side. âIs that better?â Itâs barely a whisper. He hears it regardless.Â
âYeah,â Jake returns, just as airy, just as flighty. âThatâs perfect.âÂ
And then his fingertips are ghosting the edges of your collarbone, skimming the sensitive skin of your throat as he places his gift around your neck. You donât think you imagine the tremble in his fingers while he fights with the clasp for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath as he finally snaps the mechanism into place.Â
âThere.â He exhales and it travels over your exposed nape.Â
Letting your hair fall back into place, you take a steadying breath before turning to face him again.Â
You mean it when you say, âThank you.âÂ
Jake takes it in, all of it. The moment. The proximity. You. Warning bells are sounding in his mind as his gaze travels from your eyes to the bridge of your nose to the slight part between your lips.Â
He wants it, he realizes. In this moment, there is no doubt in his mind. Thereâs nothing, in fact, but his desires, his wants. And what he wants is to feel your exhale against his own. To lean down and close the distance and let his fingers trace the skin of your throat again, for real this time. Without the excuse of a necklace.Â
He could, he thinks. Itâs a rule you both signed your agreement on, but what are rules, he reasons, if not things to be broken? And he thinks that if he kissed you, you might just let him. Itâs a theory that heâs desperate to test, almost as desperate as he is to learn the exact taste of your mouth when itâs not trading insults with him. And he was never one to let hypotheses remain in limbo for long.Â
Thereâs heat in his gaze and desire in his bones when he leans down, just a fraction of an inch.Â
Your eyes widen. Your breath stutters. Under your skin, your heartbeat races.Â
You say nothing.Â
And then heâs inching closer. Slowly, steadily, until heâs right there, so much closer than heâs ever been. Invading your senses and mingling your exhales and clouding anything coherent left in your brain.Â
His exhale ghosts across your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, and youâre nothing but a slave to sensation.Â
It wonât be him that breaks the spell. Resolve slipping with every passing heartbeat, it wonât be you, either.Â
In the end, itâs neither of those things. Instead, itâs the shrill ping of an incoming notification that has the two of you springing apart, cheeks flaming, heat of the moment settling in your chest like a shock from a live wire with nowhere to put all of its excess energy.Â
âIâŠâ Jake can barely breathe, much less form words. He still wears his desire in his eyes, his want across his lips. Itâs a miracle he even manages to say, âI better check that.â
âRight,â you nod, as if heâs asking for permission, as if itâs in any way under your control. But youâre scrambling to fill the burning silence, to redirect whatever is still simmering in the air. âYeah.â
Jake nearly stumbles over his own feet as he takes a step away from you, pulling his phone off the coffee table. You avert your eyes as he skims over the notification, hoping the heat in your cheeks will fade from sheer will alone.Â
Glancing back at him, you notice the way heâs still reading the notification. Notice the way his brow is furrowed,Â
Without really even meaning to, you ask, âEverything okay?â
âYeah,â Jake nods, but he still looks unsure. His eyes are still on his phone screen. âI think so.â
You raise an eyebrow at the vague qualifier, and he sighs before he continues, âApparently someone submitted an anonymous plagiarism claim on my econ term paper. It went to the dean, and theyâre running an investigation to make sure itâs my original work. That was just the department head letting me know that theyâre proceeding with the investigation and will reach out again if any additional action is needed on my part.â
âWhat?â You balk, earlier tension replaced with one of an entirely different sort. Youâre still stuck on his first sentence. âPlagiarism? How is that possible? You spent literal days working on that stupid paper. Even Jungwon said he couldnât believe how much effort you put into it.â
âYeah.â Jake shrugs. âI know. Thatâs why Iâm not really that nervous.â His expression begs to differ. âI mean, I know that I didnât plagiarize my paper, so Iâm sure the investigation wonât be able to find anything.â
Still, it canât feel good. Not when it took him so long, so much concentrated effort to finally pass. Not when the relief of it all is now stained with the accusation that looms over his head, no matter how much it lacks in credibility.Â
âIs there anything I can do?â You offer.
âNo.â Jake shakes his head, wonât make you bear the weight or the worry of his burdens. âIâm sure theyâre just going to run some more in-depth comparisons to past papers. I really donât think I have anything to worry about.â
âOkay,â you concede, a little hesitantly. But itâs a worry that lingers, even as the afternoon ticks by. Even when Jakeâs mother arrives home and wraps you up in a big hug. Even when she slips you another box of homemade snickerdoodles, this time wrapped up with a bow.Â
Itâs a worry that lingers when you say your parting words, wishing the two of them a Merry Christmas and telling your fake boyfriend that youâll look forward to seeing him on New Yearâs Eve.Â
Itâs a worry that you have no distraction from until youâre on your way out, and your least favorite Sim sibling catches you at the door.Â
âMerry Christmas, ___,â James smiles, all pretenses and no sincerity. Despite his words, itâs like heâs begging for a fight when he asks, âAre you enjoying the holidays?âÂ
If his mother werenât in the next room over, you might just take it upon yourself to wipe the smug grin off his face. Preferably with an uppercut.Â
âOh, you know,â you shrug, forcing a cordiality you donât feel. âItâs the same as every year. Good but busy.â Itâs more than a little vindictive when you add, âYour brother did get me the most thoughtful gift, though.â
âDid he?â James muses. He doesnât rise to the bait as much as youâd hoped. âLooks like little Jake is all grown up. Seems like itâs a good Christmas for him too. Miracles all around. He has a girlfriend to spend it with.â Pausing a moment, he tacks on, âAnd I heard he even passed econ, too. It was about time.â
âWell we canât all be stuck in our ways forever.â You smile. Itâs a polite, family friendly way of letting him know you still think heâs a raging asshole.Â
But if James is miffed, he doesnât show it. You donât like the way his satisfied grin doesnât falter either, not even once. âNo,â he agrees as you turn your back to him, leaving him behind as you walk out the front door. âI suppose we canât.â
âŠ
Christmas morning is an uneventful affair at your house. There are gifts, of course, ones that your mother watches you open expectantly.Â
The jewelry box that sits in your hands is reminiscent of just a few days prior. A fleeting touch that leaves your collarbone scalding. A similar gift that you wear around your neck now.Â
But lifting the lid on the present from your mother, the differences are stark.Â
A pair of silver hoop earrings, beautiful in their own regard and undoubtedly expensive, but silver has never been your color. Itâs something you wish sheâd remember, something you thought she might know, after twenty-one long years.Â
You thank her, words echoing hollowly in the vast expanse of your living room.Â
On the table next to you, your phone lights up with a notification.Â
Jake [9:23 am]: Merry Christmas, ___
You think it might be your favorite gift yet.
âŠ
Itâs three days after Christmas when you wake up to a series of texts from Jungwon.
Wonie [8:12 am]: Hey ___ did Jake ever work on his econ term paper with you? Like at your place or anything?
Wonie [8:12 am]: He asked me not to get you involved, but Iâm getting really worried. This plagiarism claim isnât going away, and he needs as much evidence as he can get that it was all his work
Despite the way your sleepiness usually lingers in the morning, your friendâs messages have you immediately feeling alert. Â
Scanning the texts again, the whole thing really is such an awful twist of luck. Jake finally, finally passed econ and after turning down his brotherâs proposal from months ago, he did it as a result of his own efforts. Jake might not have ever worked on his paper in your presence, but you know he didnât plagiarize it. You can pay testament to the way he was practically a recluse the entire last three weeks of the semester, only ever taking breaks from that damn assignment to occasionally eat, sleep, or bathe.Â
And itâs so bizarre, you think. Jake mentioned to you that everything blew up because of an anonymous accusation. Itâs not like his paper was caught by some online plagiarism checker. No, someone intentionally went to his professor and claimed that the work was stolen. Someone who wanted to start this fire and watch Jake struggle with the flames.Â
It makes no sense, none at all. Who on earth wouldâ
Your train of thought cuts off abruptly. Alone in your childhood bedroom, you know exactly who would do that.Â
And, one Google search later, you know exactly where to find him.Â
âŠ
Youâre not exactly surprised that the Sim Corporation building is up and operational during the holidays. If anything, the employeesâ end-of-the-year burnout works to your advantage as you sneak right by the secretary at the front desk, bypassing the appointment system that must surely be in place for the CEO-to-be.Â
The elevator ride is slow. Agonizingly slow. And you should be using this time to think, just like you should have been doing on the drive here. You should be figuring out which cards you can play and how exactly youâre going to make Jakeâs weasel of a brother admit to what heâs done and retract his idiotic, completely fake accusation against his younger sibling.Â
But the only thing your brain has room for right now is rage. And as the elevator ascends, all your anger can do is heat further and further, releasing steam until itâs boiling over, clouding your judgment and making you see red.Â
When the elevator finally lets you off on the thirty-sixth floor, your strides eat up the ground until you're standing in front of the door youâve been looking for.Â
You don't bother to knock.Â
Unsurprisingly, James Simâs office is as completely devoid of life and personality as its owner. Covered floor to ceiling with the stark furniture that wouldnât look out of place in an upscale Ikea ad, there are little to no personal touches, no hints of anything that might make you think James has any kind of redeeming qualities.Â
And the only acknowledgement your least favorite Sim brother gives you behind his desk are two slightly raised eyebrows.Â
â___.â He jots something down on a notepad in front of him. Probably writing a reminder to fire the secretary that let you up without notifying him. âTo what do I owe the pleasureâ
Youâre in no mood for games. âCut the bullshit.â
Jamesâ pen pauses. He glances up at you.âIâm afraid I donâtââ
You wonât hear it. âI said, cut the fucking bullshit, James. You and I both know exactly why Iâm here.â Your chest is already heaving as you list your demands. âBack the fuck off from Jake, retract your stupid plagiarism claim, and let him enjoy the holidays in peace.â
James doesnât give you the courtesy of acknowledging anything you just said. Instead, he demands firmly, âBreak up with him.â
âWhat the fuck?â Youâre not sure how itâs possible, but your annoyance multiplies tenfold. How dare he assume he has any say in your relationship, anything at all related to you or his brother. âWhy would I listen to anything you tell me to do?â
âYou want me to retract the claim,â James echoes evenly, enunciating so slowly itâs patronizing. âOkay, fine.â He lays his hands out in front of him as if heâs offering some generous, benevolent deal. âThen end the relationship.â
You wonder how much damage it would do if you throw the chair sitting next to you at his head. âAre you actually threatening me right now?â
âNot a threat.â He shrugs, all too nonchalantly. âJust a deal.â
Your strides eat up the ground between the door of his office and his desk. Laying a palm down on the surface in front of you, you point an accusatory finger in his face. âListen here, you little shit. You and I both know damn well he wrote every word of that term paper on his own, so I suggest you listen to me and back the fuck off while Iâm still asking nicely, orââ
âOr what? Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but between my brother and I, thereâs only one person Dr. Jeong is likely to believe.â
âWhat are you, a cartoon villain?â Even this angry, his stupidity is astounding. âYou still need evidence. Which you donât have. Because he didnât plagiarize shit, and especially not from you.â
James doesnât falter. âInteresting that you mention that, actually. You know, I asked Dr. Jeong about you as well, and he said youâre not a student in his class.â Despite yourself, your features slacken slightly. âI thought that was odd, considering thatâs how the two of you said you met. There are a lot of things that donât add up about the two of you, actually.â
Thereâs a threat there, when he meets your eye and says, âSo it kind of seems like you know already, that evidence isnât just found. Itâs made. And Jakeâs term paper is different from the one I submitted, yes, but I also have a copy of what he submitted on my personal computer. Itâd be pretty easy to ask my secretary to adjust a few timestamps here and there. To make it look like it was written years ago. Stolen by the younger brother thatâs always been horribly jealous of me.â
âWhat the fuck is it to you if he passes econ?â You still donât understand why heâs doing this. âYou graduated university three years ago. Your life is here now, in this office. Youâre in the process of becoming CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. Seriously, donât you have better things to waste your time on? I mean, this is what most people call âpeaking in collegeâ and usually try to avoidââ
James reveals his motivation with two small words. âWhy him?â
But you still donât get it. âWhat?â
âWhy him?â he repeats, and it sounds so, horribly, terribly jealous. âLike you said, Iâm older, smarter, more successful. So why him?â
âAre you joking?â Itâs all you can do to not drop your jaw. All of this because you never let him take you on a date? When itâs his fault he missed the first one? The sheer audacity of it all is astounding. âFirst of all,â you refute. âI did not say any of that. And second, if thatâs actually all you have to say about yourself, then put that shit in your Tinder bio and see where it gets you. I have no interest in hearing it.â
James wonât let it go. âThatâs not an answer.â
âWhy do you even careââ
âWhy him?â He wonât stop, not until he gets his answer.Â
âBecause I like him.â Itâs spilling out before you can stop it, before you can give it permission. âBecause heâs kind and funny and he listens to me and cares about what I have to say. Because Iâm more than just a sum of my parts to him, and the last thing he cares about is my social status and how it stacks up against his. Iâm not some tool to impress his parents or a topic of conversation to brag about with boys at Sunday morning golf.â All of the things youâre sure would be a part of any kind of relationship with James. Because no matter what role heâs given in his fatherâs company or what grade he passed econ with, Jake is capable of something James never has been. âBecause he treats me like a person.â
Across from you, James simmers with barely controlled rage. With the truth at his feet, he has nothing left to do but be angry with it. Destroy what he can in the wake of his fury, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. âBreak up with him.â
âWhââ
âBreak up with him, or I swear to god I will submit plagiarism claims to every professor heâs had in the last three years.â
Itâs a threat you know heâll make good on. Itâs a battle youâre afraid heâll win, no matter how fake all of his so-called evidence is. And it will all be your fault. You will be the reason that Jake has to take econ again, and thatâs only if he isnât expelled on plagiarism claims. You will be the reason his father hands him another round of disappointment. Youâll be the reason Jake ends his day with a little more shame to tuck away and revisit on a sleepless night.Â
And you were always on a timeline, anyway. This relationship was one that always came with an expiration date, even before it began.Â
It should be easy to concede, given the stakes, given the alternative. Youâve known since the beginning that the rapidly approaching New Year would be the end of it all, that you and Jake would become entirely separate entities again in just a handful of days. Still, you have to force the words out through gritted teeth, âGive me until New Yearâs.â
James scoffs. âI donât think youâre in any position to be making demandsââ
âIâll do it.â You double down, agreeing to take Jakeâs fate into your own hands. âIâll end things. Just⊠just give me until New Yearâs.â You can do it, you think. It was inevitable anyway. âAnd retract the claim now,â you stipulate. âIf I go back on my word, you can resubmit with all your evidence once next semester starts.â
Across from you, behind his desk, James weighs your offer. He must sense the finality in your tone, the determination in your gaze. âFine,â he finally says. âYou have yourself a deal.â
You donât take his outstretched hand, donât seal your agreement with a handshake. Heâll have to trust your word.
It makes no difference to him. His smile is smug when you turn to leave. You hope his satisfaction burns on the way down.Â
Your drive home is slightly blurry. Partially because of the rain that has begun to fall. Mostly because of the tears that gather at the corners of your eyes and threaten to fall. You wonât let them, but they cloud your vision anyway, demand your attention.Â
That night, a message from Jake lights up your phone just as youâre sitting down for dinner.Â
Jake [6:57 pm]: Good news! The whole plagiarism thing turned out to be nothing. Just got an email from the dean that theyâre dropping the investigation. Iâm officially freeeeee from econ (again)
If nothing else, you have to give James credit for efficiency. And it should feel like a war won, a job well done. But staring at the message on your phone, the only thing you can think of is how soon New Years is. How little time you have before youâll have to say goodbye.Â
âŠ
Thereâs never much to do, in that liminal space between Christmas and New Yearâs. Minutes and hours and days blur together as the end of the year passes by, preparing to give way to a new one.Â
Jake, giddy with the recent resolution of his econ grade and desperate to get away from the stifling atmosphere of his family home, tries to fill some of that time by spending it with someone heâs starting to realize he cares a lot about. Contract or not.Â
First, he sends you a message asking if youâve been ice skating this winter yet. He does his best to only be a little hurt when your rejection comes quickly, claiming in your response to have another obligation that day. Second, he invites you to drive around and look at holiday lights with him. When you tell him you already have other plans, he passes another lazy afternoon alone instead. Again, itâs a little hard not to dwell. A little hard not to let it sting. And by your third rejection â this time to take Layla on a walk with him â his hurt starts to give way to suspicion.Â
But itâs not like you can avoid him forever, not with your familyâs annual New Yearâs Eve party quickly approaching. The last big event before the termination of your contract, youâve been counting on him to spare you from your motherâs scathing comments and attendeesâ hushed wonderings about when youâll find yourself a boyfriend.Â
And then it will be a new year, a new semester, a fresh start. As the clock strikes midnight, the end of your contract.Â
Privately, Jake is a little relieved that it will be over so soon. That he wonât have to keep up pretenses any longer. That he wonât have to stick to your rules.Â
Heâs not sure when it happened, not exactly. Somewhere between all the bickering and arguing and fighting, but heâs come to enjoy the way you swept into his life like a hurricane and set up a home for yourself right where his heart is.Â
He hopes youâll stick around long after the ink on your contract has dried. He hopes that the two of you will get a chance to figure out what exactly those feelings between you are without worrying about how they look from the outside. How theyâre perceived by James or your mother or his father.Â
So Jake will be patient if he needs to be. Heâll accept your excuses, real or not, and look forward to seeing you on New Yearâs Eve, relishing the fact that itâs the last time his presence at your side will be based on a lie.Â
And when New Yearâs Eve finally comes, he adjusts the tightness of his tie, looking at himself in the mirror.Â
Midnight, he thinks. It will be here soon, quicker than he knows. And all the emotions that heâs been tucking away, all those little moments between the two of you that have fizzled and sparked and ultimately ended in nothing, will fade away with it.Â
In their place, he thinks the two of you just might manage to find something solid, something real.Â
âŠ
Halfway across the city, in your childhood bedroom, you turn to Sunghoon. âWhat do you think?â
âYeah,â Sunghoon nods appreciatively from his seat on your bed. âYour fake boyfriend is gonna pee his pants.â
âGross.â Your nose scrunches. âWhy would you say it like that? And stop calling him my fake boyfriend.â
âWhy?â Sunghoon ignores your first question. âThatâs what he is, isnât he?â
And that, you think, is another reason why you didnât want your friends getting involved in this little scheme between you and Jake. But Sunghoonâs flight home was canceled due to inclement weather, and you werenât about to make him spend New Yearâs Eve alone. The only problem with him spending it at your familyâs party is that he needs to be well-versed in the lies you and Jake have been spinning for the last couple of months to keep the last few hours of your fake relationship believable. So, a mimosa and an explanation of a contract later, Sunghoon is privy to all the gory details. But the last thing you need is reminders of that.Â
Reminders of him. Reminders of what youâll have to do in a few short hours. So you redirect the conversation.Â
âReally?â You look at yourself in the mirror again. âDo you like this one better? Or should I wear the red dress?â
âNo, definitely that one.â Sunghoon shakes his head. âIt looks really good. And everyone knows that black is better for New Yearâs anyway.â
As you give yourself another once over, Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. âWhy are you so nervous, anyway? Trying to impress your faux beau?â
âStop pretending to know French,â you threaten. âor you can actually be homeless for New Yearâs for all I care.â
âCâmon,â Sunghoon sighs, ignoring the bluff. âYou look great. I think so. You mom will think so. Jakeâs definitely gonna thinkââ
âHow many times do I hââ
âSo stop worrying so much, and letâs head downstairs.â Sunghoon stands from your bed, nodding towards the door. âIâm sure heâll be here soon, anyway. Do you really want to leave him to the mercy of your mother?â
Point taken. You absolutely do not. With one final swipe of lip gloss, youâre pulling on your heels. Itâs just in time too. Barely is the second one strapped on before the message from Jake pings through. Heâs here.Â
âIs that him?â Sunghoon holds his arm out for you, jerks his chin towards your phone. âShall we go save your man from the she-devil?â
You donât even bother to correct him, to reiterate that Jake is most definitely not âyour man,â as you hook your hand around his elbow, letting him pull you out of your room and towards the stairs.Â
At this point, Jake is not unused to the extravagance of your familyâs events. But as he enters your childhood home, he canât help but be a little floored. Itâs a house that would be impressive in its own right. Spacious and luxurious down to every last detail, the place practically screams wealth. But tonight, it really outdoes itself.Â
The black and gold decorations shimmer just the right amount â enough to catch the ambient light beautifully without being garish. Every available surface is impeccable, covered with drinks and food and decor so lavish it would be almost laughable if it werenât so impeccably done.Â
Jake strains his neck over the crowd of equally done-up party guests, tries to peer around all the gowns and evening wear until he finds the figure he has memorized. He thinks he might see your mom, over chatting with a group of attendees, but no matter where he looks, he canât seem to locate you.Â
Not until he glances at the spiral staircase on the outskirts of the room, does a double take at where you make your way down the ornate steps in an evening gown. Itâs the same inky, midnight black as his suit, hugging and flowing and cascading in all the right places. Letting his gaze linger, he would have a hard time keeping his jaw closed if it werenât clenching so tightly.Â
He doesnât mean to let it happen, the flare of jealousy that starts deep in his gut and spreads the length of his spine like a disease. But he canât help it. Not when you look like that, not when youâre making an entrance and youâre not alone. No, youâre walking down the stairs accompanied by, on the arm of, Park Sunghoon.
Jake decides then and there that he hates figure skating. The glass of champagne in his hand suddenly feels awfully breakable.Â
But then you spot him too, and some of the tension simmers, brightens, turns to something else entirely. When your gaze lands on his, your wide, genuine smile is almost enough to set him at ease. Almost.Â
Cutting through the crowd, you and your unwanted chaperone make your way over to Jake.Â
âHi,â you breathe. Your hand is still on Sunghoonâs arm.Â
âHi,â Jake returns. He canât take his eyes off it.Â
Gaze darting between the two of you, Sunghoon is the one to gently but firmly remove your grip from his elbow. If itâs any consolation, you hardly seem to notice.Â
Still, Jakeâs shoulders are unnaturally tense, something Sunghoon takes note of. He just rolls his eyes. Itâs not like either of you are looking at him to see it, anyway.Â
Finally, after the silence lingers a little too long, he says to Jake, âYeah, you donât have to do that around me.â
âDo what?â Jake spares him only a momentary glance before letting his gaze rest on you again.Â
âThe whole overprotective, jealous boyfriend thing.â Sunghoon calls his game in two seconds flat. âYouâre pretty good at it, though. Iâll give you props for that.â
That grabs Jakeâs full attention. âWhat are youââ
âI know about you and ___âs contract. Donât worry,â he mimics pulling his lips shut like a zipper. âYour secret is safe with me.â
Jake looks to you again. âYou told him?â He canât decide if it makes him feel better or significantly worse.Â
You shrug. âI wasnât sure how else to make sure he didnât blow our cover tonight.â Besides, you add silently, how much damage could it do? After all, itâs our last night.Â
Sunghoon glances between the two of you again, decides he does not want to be a part of this particular interaction any longer. âIâll see you two later. Iâm gonna go check out the hors d'oeuvres.â Turning to leave, he claps a hand on Jakeâs shoulder. âYour girl could probably use a glass of champagne.â
Sunghoon makes a beeline for the kebabs, and then itâs just the two of you. And Jake might be hesitant to follow advice from your friend, but he grabs a glass from the next waiter that passes anyway, hands it to you seamlessly as you offer him a quiet, âThanks.â
Itïżœïżœs easy, just like always, to fall into your routine. His hand finds the small of your back, and you lean into his embrace just the right amount. You can tell itâs working, that the guests you mingle with are charmed by how smitten the two of you seem, that everything you do makes them reminisce on their own long passed days of young love.Â
Even the brief conversation with your mother is painless as she offers a stilted compliment for your dress and wishes you both a happy semester ahead.Â
But you canât quite get your smile to reach your eyes, canât quell the anxiety swelling in your stomach as the night marches on and the clock ticks closer and closer to midnight.Â
Jake can sense your unease, your trepidation, but he has no idea whatâs causing it, can only guess at what has your eyes darting around the room like a mouse watching for a cat.Â
Incorrectly, he wonders if itâs the crowd thatâs getting to you, the chaos of so many bodies all in one space. Trying to offer a reprieve, he asks if thereâs anywhere quieter the two of you could go.Â
Itâs not exactly what youâre looking for, not the solution you need, but you still lead him to the second floor, out onto the balcony that overlooks your backyard gardens. Itâs similar to the place you and Jake ended your night at his family dinner a handful of weeks ago.Â
Even away from the crowd, the lines in your bare shoulders are tense, fraught with unvoiced worries. The inevitability of the end.Â
The music is fainter out here, but the rhythm is still easy to track. Jake thinks you just need a distraction. So he holds out a hand in invitation. âDance with me?â He asks.Â
You shouldnât, not when it will only make all of this worse. Not when there are no eyes out here, no one to convince you that youâre still just pretending.Â
But resistance has always been futile. And you canât find it in you to say no.Â
Under the glow of this yearâs last bit of moonlight, you intertwine your fingers with his, let him draw you close as he wraps your hands around the nape of his neck, links his own across the small of your back.Â
Itâs not dancing, not really. Not as the two of you draw nearer under the pretense of staying warm. Not as your bodies barely move through space, just swaying slightly, in time with the harmonies that spin and twist and crescendo and fall below you.Â
Jake knows better than to press his luck. But the day is dying, and so is your contract. What are a few minutes anyway, in the grand scheme of things?Â
Leaning closer, he lets his forehead rest against your own, noses millimeters apart. âItâs almost midnight,â he whispers. The end of it all. The start, he hopes, of something entirely new. Something that belongs only to the two of you. In just a few moments, heâll get to let his desires lead his actions, not the agreement he signed his name to.
âMm,â you hum in agreement. He feels where it vibrates in his chest.Â
âTen,â he hears the crowd inside chant in unison. The countdown has begun. The New Year is nearly here.Â
âNine.â He pulls you a little closer, hands pressed a little tighter to the small of your back.
âEight. Seven. Six.â You sigh, and itâs lost somewhere against the skin of his throat.Â
âFive. Four.â One of his hands begins to move, traces the length of your spine, finds a new home against the curve of your jaw.Â
âThree.â Using the gentle guidance of his thumb, he angles your face, just slightly.
âTwo.â Around you, the world holds its breath. The two of you do the same.Â
âOne.â And then heâs closing the distance, lips against yours as exclaims of âHappy New Yearsâ are lost somewhere in the wind.Â
He may have brought you here, but youâre just as greedy, hands around his neck pulling him down further until the angle has you reeling. His mouth parts against yours, and youâre not quite sure if your eyes are open or closed. Youâre seeing stars either way.Â
Jake pulls you closer, and itâs not enough. Heâs desperate for it, for something, for closer, for more. Itâs everything that he imagined. Countless times in the darkness behind closed eyelids in the privacy of his own thoughts. Itâs a million times better.Â
He canât focus on anything, canât do anything but feel, give way to the shape of sensation. He wants to let his senses drown, wants to die and be reincarnated back into this moment just for the chance to live it again. Wants to wash away anything that isnât tethered to sensation, to the urgency in his gut, to you.Â
The first in a series of fireworks lights up the sky behind you. The booming echo has you jumping in your own skin, giggling against his lips at the irrational fear. Jake thinks this must be heaven. He must have died doing something wonderful, and this must be his eternal reward.Â
Your amusement lasts moments longer before heâs doubling down, pulling you in again until youâre both well and truly breathless. Lip gloss a mess on both of your mouths, chests heaving as you finally break for air. The space between your bodies is miniscule, meaningless. In this moment, youâre a single entity with nothing but the desire for more.Â
Fireworks continue to burst behind you as the sun sets on the contract that bound you together. His hands are still pressed against the small of your back, and you think the fabric of your dress must be nothing but a figment of your imagination. The only real thing is the heat of his skin on yours.Â
The sound of your name whispered against your skin is something youâre afraid youâll remember for a long, long time. He sounds desperate, where he repeats it. Pleading. Longing.Â
But the fireworks are a symbol of a new year. An expiration date on an agreement. A deadline on a deal.Â
Jake whispers your name once more, and you savor it for just a moment longer. Then, you carefully disentangle yourself from his grip. Most of it, at least. The hands against your back allow you space, but donât stray from your spine.Â
Still encircled in the arms of feelings that were never given the chance to take flight, you try to turn blows into kisses by whispering them softly, âI think we should end this.â
Itâs presumptuous, on your part, to think that there is anything to end. You feel a little ridiculous saying it when you both signed your agreement long months ago. But your head is still spinning and your heart is still hurting. This is what it feels like, you realize. To mourn for the future. To grieve all of the what ifs and maybes and almosts.Â
Across from you, Jake stokes your fears. âWhat? End what?â
âThis.â You sigh. You canât look him in the eye. âAll of it. Itâs officially the New Year now. We can stop going to things as each otherâs plus-ones. The fake dating. Everything.â Youâre rambling now, but you canât help it. Youâre afraid that if you stop to think, youâll propose something else entirely. Something you know you canât have. Something that will only ruin everything Jake has worked so hard for. âWe can tell our families it was mutual â fizzled, like you said.â
Jake releases his grip on you, severs that last bit of connection. It takes every ounce of your willpower to bite back your tears.Â
âWoah, slow down.â His brow creases in confusion. His words are still gentle; he still handles you with care. âWhere is this coming from?â
âI justâŠâ You trail off, doing your best to find steadiness in your voice. âThis was our agreement. And itâs served its purpose. Besides, itâs a new year, you know? No point in starting it off with lies.â No matter how much he searches for it, youâre still avoiding his gaze.
Jakeâs cheeks are flushed â a combination of things. The taste of champagne thatâs fading on his tongue, replaced by something sweeter. The gentle midnight breeze. The aftermath of a kiss that he still wears on his lips. âIâŠâ Suddenly, he finds it very difficult to breathe. âThatâs all this is to you? A lie?â
And you wish he would just let this be a clean break, would stop pressing, stop making you say things you donât mean. But you need him to believe it. That this is well and truly done. âI mean, we got what we wanted, didnât we? You passed econ, and I got my mother off my back for a bit. This was the date we agreed to end things on. It doesnât make sense to keep dragging things out.â
Jake is suddenly unsure of many things, and most immediately, himself. Heâs not sure how to explain it to you, here on the balcony, with the bitter taste of something that stings all too much like rejection sitting heavy in his throat. That heâs pictured it a million times. You and him, together because it lets you both breathe a little easier, because it feels a little bit like coming home. Not because of a contract or your family or his brother.Â
He doesnât know how to tell you that every time he goes to a cafe, he marks a mental note to ask you what your favorite kind of coffee is. Doesnât know how to tell you that every time he passes the corner table on the third floor of the library or the Student Union Building, the only thing he sees is your face.Â
Doesnât know how to thank you for helping him pass econ, for being the boost of confidence he needed to finally stand up to his brother for once, for making him think that he might not be as much of a failure as everyone else seems to think he is. For believing in him.
He doesnât know how to thank you for being in his life, for making it a little better. For putting a little love in the parts of him that he thought would always be consumed by anger and bitterness and resentment.Â
Doesnât know how to tell you that itâs not just a contract to him. Not just a lie. That it hasnât been for a long, long time.Â
Instead, he listens, motionless while you whisper, âThank you for tonight.â
He knows your voice is wavering. He knows your resolve is crumbling. But he doesnât know why.Â
So he watches, still unmoving, as you turn to walk away from him. Left alone on the balcony with no company but the stars, Jake Sim has nothing but a million regrets and the horrible, irrevocable feeling that heâs done something terribly wrong.Â
âŠ
âYou look terrible.â
âThanks, Sungoon.â Your voice is flat, no energy for any real malice. Sarcasm, though, you can muster. âYou really know how to make a girl feel good.â
âIâm just saying.â Heâs still looking at you like youâre a particularly unsightly piece of roadkill he narrowly avoided colliding with. âWould it kill you to do something about those dark circles? I donât know, maybe, like â and Iâm just throwing out ideas here â sleep?â
Youâve tried. You have. But no matter what you do, rest canât seem to find you easily these days. And aside from that, itâs the moments just before sleep that youâve started to fear the most. In the dark, with your eyes closed, the only thing you see is the confusion, the unmistakable hurt on Jakeâs face as you walk away from him for the last time.
âLook,â Sunghoon sighs, suddenly serious. âItâs just⊠Iâm a little worried about you, to be honest. Did something happen on New Yearâs? With you andââ
âIâm fine.â You cut him off. The last thing you want to hear is the sound of his name, the reminder of what youâve done for the sake of preserving his future. âIâm just tired, really.â You try to smile, and itâs far from convincing. âItâs been a long few days.â
Sunghoon wears his doubts as plain as day, but he wonât press the issue for now. âIf you say so.â He does need you to take care of yourself, though, at least a little. âAt least come eat something.â Suddenly grinning, he whispers, âI snuck in some instant ramen behind your momâs back. Câmon, we can go make some. We can even get fancy with it, if you want. Iâll fry you an egg and everything.â Heâs pulling out all the stops, a testament to how terrible you really do look.Â
But it works. Or itâs enough to get you out of your room, at least. Stomach grumbling, youâre about to tell Sunghoon to make it two fried eggs when the two of you are intercepted by your mother on the way to the kitchen.Â
âOh,â she intones, taking in your appearance. Her eyes travel from your sweatpants to your t-shirt to your lack of makeup, disapproval apparent in every glance. âYou lookâŠâ
âSave it,â you grumble, not in the mood to be ridiculed.Â
Pushing past her, she stops you again. âHold on a minute. I have a question for you.â
You take a deep breath before you turn back to face her. Might as well get it over with. âYes?â
Smoothing her hair, she tells you, âYour father and I are hosting a banquet to celebrate the firmâs most recent acquisitions. Itâll be the last weekend in January. Weâd love it if you could come.âÂ
You suppress the urge to roll your eyes, not seeing where the question was anywhere in there. To you, it sounds more like a demand.Â
Sensing your reluctance, she adds, âYouâd be welcome to bring Jake, of courseââ
âWe broke up,â you inform flatly. At your side, Sunghoon stiffens.Â
âOh,â your mother says again, not missing a beat. Thereâs very little sympathy when she adds, âWell, I suppose thatâs probably for the best. Donât you think so? I mean, youâll be so busy with law school applications soon, itâs probably better to not have a boy around to distract you.â
You donât bother to dignify that with a reply. Instead, you turn your back to her, fully this time. Altering your course, you set your footsteps on a path towards the garage instead of the kitchen. âIâm going for a drive,â is the explanation you throw over your shoulder.Â
When Sunghoon tries to follow, you just shake your head. âI want to be alone.â
âButââ
âPlease.âÂ
There must be something desperate in your features, because Sunghoon only nods, doesnât argue further as he watches you climb in the driverâs seat of your car. Heâs still standing there, concern apparent on his features as you open the garage door behind you and reverse your car out of it.Â
Itâs been a long time since youâve done this, driven without a destination in mind. Your playlist blares through the stereo, loud enough to drown out any thoughts that threaten to cross your mind, to consume you, to send you spiraling.Â
Itâs not until long minutes later, when the first drop of rain hits your windshield, that you even notice the way storm clouds gather menacingly above you in the sky.Â
Whatever, you think, turning on your wipers and increasing the volume another notch. Youâve navigated worse. If anything, itâs a perfect match for your temper, for the way emotions swell and churn in your stomach.Â
Mindlessly, you let nothing but intuition guide your way, turning down streets youâve never seen on nothing but a whim and the desire to escape, even if just for a little bit. The rain continues to pour, and the storm clouds darken in time with your mood.Â
By the time you do start to recognize some of the scenery around you, itâs already too late. And youâre not sure where to place your blame. Fate, your subconscious, the way you canât seem to let him go? No matter where fault lies, youâre suddenly perfectly aware of your location.Â
Mostly because youâve been here twice in the span of a month. Because youâre only a handful of blocks, at most, from Jakeâs familyâs home.Â
The realization makes you quick to pull over. The best course of action, you decide, is to plot your course home in your phoneâs GPS, since clearly you canât be trusted to wander. Itâs in the middle of searching for a better signal that you see it. A flash of movement outside your window.
Itâs hard to be sure, through the thick sheets of rain that fall from the sky. But then you see it again, see her again, and you would know that dog anywhere.Â
âShit.â Turning to scan the backseat of your car, you find neither a jacket nor an umbrella. Nothing to shield you from the wrath of nature outside. But itâs not like you can leave Layla alone in a storm. Gritting your teeth, you set your resolve. And then you open the car door, stepping outside into the rain.Â
Itâs the kind of downpour thatâs unforgiving, that soaks you to the bone as soon as youâre in it. Hair sticking to your face and already so cold you think you might start shaking, you start Laylaâs name, hoping it carries over the wind.Â
âLayla!â Itâs all you can do to hope she hears you over the storm. You lose her for a minute. Bringing up your hand as a makeshift visor, you force your eyes to focus. When you finally see a flash of tan again, you know itâs her. The relief is short lived. Frustrated, you watch her turn to run in the opposite direction.Â
âLayla!â you call again, this time louder, so much so youâre sure your voice will be hoarse tomorrow. From the way rain soaks your clothes, youâll no doubt be nursing a nasty cold along with it.Thankfully, though, your beckoning does the trick this time. At the sound of your voice, Layla spins around, makes a beeline straight towards your familiar figure.
âLayla,â you chide once sheâs at your feet, still grinning at you like the two of you arenât absolutely soaked through and freezing. âCâmon,â you open the back door of your car to let her inside. âHop in.â
She does so without an argument, and you slide back into the driverâs seat just as soon as you shut the door behind her. Putting your car back into drive, you set your wipers to full speed and drive straight until you see the turn a few roads down, the one that you know leads straight to his house.Â
Still, you pull over again a few houses away, hesitating.Â
âSorry, Layla,â you turn to the dog in question. She just tilts her head at you quizzically. âIâll get you home. I justâŠâ
Donât want to see him. Donât want to look at him and face his anger, his resentment, his bitterness. Surely those are the only emotions he has left for you. Besides, it would be nothing but disastrous if his older brother were home. James would assume that your presence in his home means youâve neglected to uphold your end of the deal and as such, has no reason to honor his.Â
Thereâs a lot of damage to be done here, if you donât go about it wisely.Â
Turning back to the dog in your backseat, you point at her house in front of you. âYou can make it home from here, right?â Again, Layla offers nothing but the slight perking of her ears. âYour house is right there,â you point again. âJust go up to the front porch and whine or scratch at the door and theyâll let you in, alright?â You give her a scratch behind the ears for good measure.Â
You know Layla likes it, know that itâs her favorite place to be scratched. You know it because you watched him do it a few short weeks ago. Suddenly, you wonder if heâs noticed that sheâs missing. If heâs frantic, going crazy trying to find her.Â
A new sense of urgency motivating your actions, you turn back to Layla one last time. âAlright, girl. Iâll watch from here. Iâm gonna open the door, and I want you to go straight home, okay?âÂ
She wags her tail at you, and that will have to be confirmation enough.Â
Opening your door, you slide out of the car first. You hold your arm above your head as a makeshift shield from the rain, but itâs of little use. Reaching for the handle of your carâs back door, youâre about to send Layla home on a wing and a prayer when a voice behind you calls out your name.Â
At least you think thatâs what you hear. You canât quite tell, over the sound of pouring rain, the whistling of the wind. Still, you turn with trepidation in your gut. Rightfully so, when you peer into the car thatâs just pulled over next to you and lock eyes with no one other than Jakeâs mother.Â
She repeats your name, this time a little more frantic. âOh my god,â She exlaims, taking in your appearance. âYouâre soaking wet. Quick, follow me home and weâll get you warm and dry.â
âThatâs okay,â you try to explain over the story, âI have Layla, actually. I saw her wandering a few blocks over, and Iââ
âLayla? Oh my goodness.â Concern and gratitude color every word. âThank you, ___. Iâm sure Jake is going crazy. Câmon,â she reiterates. âFollow me, and letâs get you both inside.â
Not bothering to wait for a response, she rolls her window back up, driving away with the clear expectation that you follow. And itâs not like you have any other choice, not really. You can hardly drive away with her dog. And itâs not like you can let Layla out now, not when sheâs seen you. Â
So, hoping against all odds neither Sim brother is home, you climb back into your car and follow her command.Â
âOh my god,â she repeats when you pull into the driveway behind her, letting yourself and Layla out of your car. âYou two are absolutely soaked. Câmon, quickly,â she ushers you towards the front door.Â
Opening it, she steps inside first.Â
And of course luck is not on your side. You hear him before you see him. âMom,â he sounds panicked, horribly on edge. âHave you seen Layla? Sheâs been missing for almost an hour and I canât find her anywhere. I called James, but he left on a business trip this morning.â He doesnât leave room to breathe. âIâm worried she might have gotten outsideââÂ
Your rescue doesnât remain a mystery for long. Layla bounds through the front door, jumping on her favorite sibling, wet paw prints staining his jeans as her sudden movement forces the door open wider. Reveals you.Â
Relief washes over Jakeâs features as he greets his dog just as affectionately, and then he glances upwards. He takes one look at you, soaked to the bone and shaking from the cold. Any other words he had die on his lips.Â
â___ found her, actually,â his mom explains, reching behind you to usher you in fully and shut the door behind you. âA few blocks over, you said?â She clarifies, turning to you.Â
Eyes not leaving Jakeâs, you just nod.Â
His mother glances between the two of you, your frozen, shocked stares. The tension is palpable, and she senses it as well.Â
âIâm going to go get Layla dried off,â she offers. âJake, why donât you help ___ find a dry set of clothes.â Shuffling past the two of you, she brings Layla along with her.Â
And then itâs just you and him.Â
Both of you stand there a moment longer, neither of you saying anything.
When you do break the silence, itâs at the same time. âAre you okay?â Jake tries, just as you say, âIâm sorry.â
Another beat of silence passes between you.Â
Jake nods towards you. âYou go first.â
âIâm sorry,â you try to explain, words feeling jumbled as you give them life. âI was driving and I saw Layla all alone, and I didnât knowâŠâ That youâd be here. That I would run into your mom. That it would hurt so much to see you again. You donât know what exactly youâre apologizing for, but your presence feels like an intrusion.Â
Jake begs to differ. âDonât apologize.â He shakes his head. âI should be thanking you. I was worried out of my mind thinking I might never see her again.â Heâs talking about Layla. You know heâs talking about Layla. But his eyes donât leave you once.Â
It feels like a moment that could stretch into forever, you and him. Masking your hurt, hiding wounded prides. Standing inches apart and the distance has never felt greater.Â
The spell is only broken when you sneeze, an immediate reminder of the circumstances that brought you here. Of the fact that youâre trembling like a leaf in his entry way, soaked to the bone.Â
It's enough to spur him to action. âCome on.â He jerks his head towards the staircase behind him, voice and features still carefully guarded. â Iâll get you some dry clothes.â
You could argue, but you donât see a point. Not now. Silently, you follow him, all the way up the stairs and down the hallway to the last door on the left. When he opens it, there is no doubt in your mind as to what this room is.Â
Itâs his. It has to be. You know it, from all the little pieces of himself he has on display. Pictures of him in his youth with friends that smile just as big and brightly as he does. Soccer trophies, a drawing of Layla done before he had well-developed fine-motor skills, a picture of him and his mother at the beach.Â
All at once, you wonder what it would have been like to discover him naturally. How long it would have taken you to uncover all these little parts of him, one by one, if any part of your relationship had been given the chance to be real.Â
And then you notice the mug sitting on his nightstand. The self-heating one you gave him for Christmas. Thereâs nothing special about it, and itâs not particularly attractive, design-wise. Itâs practical. Almost impersonal. He has no reason to keep it displayed like this. Part of you wants to swell with unshed tears. The other wants to run and hide and face your shame alone.Â
But Jake is already rummaging through a drawer, and a moment later, he turns to face you with a pair of gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie.Â
âIâm sorry,â he apologizes preemptively, and you hate the uncertainty that lingers between you. The awkwardness. All the stilted pauses and unsure silences that were never there before. You hate that itâs your fault, that you have no clue how to fix it. âIâm not sure how theyâll fit.â
âThatâs okay,â you shake your head, ignoring the way your heart stutters suddenly at the thought of wearing his clothes. âTheyâll be dry. I appreciate it.â
âThe bathroom is through there.â He nods towards the adjoining room. âThere are clean towels under the sink, too, if you want to dry your hair or anything.â Pausing, he adds, âTake as long as you need.â
Nodding, you walk into his bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You know he meant it, when he told you to take your time, but part of you is hesitant to linger. Somehow, this space feels even more private, even more intimate than his bedroom. Again, you feel like an intruder. An unwanted presence in a place thatâs entirely his. A place you lost the right to be when you struck a deal behind his back and took his future into your own hands. Â
Sighs mingling with regrets you canât voice, you trade your rain-soaked clothes for his dry ones. You look at yourself in the mirror, and then you tuck the necklace he gave you out of sight, underneath the collar of his gray hoodie.Â
A minute later, you emerge from his bathroom slightly self-conscious and significantly drier. Across the room, Jake looks up at you. You watch as he swallows audibly, eyes tracing the planes of your body swallowed by his borrowed clothes. His throat bobs before he tears his eyes away.Â
âI shouldâŠâ Again, you hate this tension between you, this uncertainty. âI should go. Thank you for the clothes. Iâll wash them and give them back once the semester startsââ
âWhat happened?â Jake couldnât care less about your upcoming laundry plans. You can keep his sweatshirt and sweatpants and whatever else you want from him forever, as far as heâs concerned. Instead heâs still stuck onâ
âNew Yearâs Eve. I thoughtâŠâ He shakes his head. âI thought things were⊠good between us.â
And you could continue to be evasive. For his sake, you probably should.Â
You could continue to make his decisions for him and decide to preserve his econ grade instead of whatever unnamed feelings might still linger between the two of you. But, the quieter parts of you whisper, that would make you no different from anyone else in his life, from the people youâve encouraged him to break free from. The people that have molded his decisions and guided his path with a heavy hand all in the name of doing whatâs best for him. All because they think they know him better than he knows himself.Â
You donât want to do that. What you want, here in the privacy of his bedroom, in the comfort of his borrowed clothes and the legacy of his youth, is to tell him the truth. You want to let him do with it as he sees fit. Taking a deep breath, you make your decision.Â
And then you brace yourself for his anger, the outrage heâll surely have at your explanation. âYour brotherââ
âMy brother?â Jakeâs face falls, misreading things entirely as he jumps to premature conclusions. But itâs not like heâs grasping at straws. Jake isnât blind to the way James has been gloating more than usual as of late. To the way his mood started improving right around New Yearâs Eve. And he assumes the worst. âOh. Okay.â Jake is trying to smile, but his features are completely wilted when he says, âI guess he got that second chance after all, huh?âÂ
âWhat?â Your lips twist in disgust as the implication sinks in. âNo.â
âNo?â Now, Jake just looks confused.Â
âNo,â you reiterate. âLook,â you sigh, âI figured out that those plagiarism claims about your econ paper came from him.â
Across from you, Jakeâs jaw drops as it sinks in. âJames was the one whoâŠâ
You nod, lips tight. You still canât believe it either. âI went to his office to confront him about it, and he told me heâd retract the accusation, but only if..â
Jakeâs eyes are imploring. You have the feeling he already knows the answer. âOnly if what?â
âOnly if I promised to end things between us.â And there it is. The truth. Cold, hard, ugly, and Jakeâs to interpret as he will. You brace for impact.Â
Jake is silent for a moment, shocked into stillness. And then, âHe what?â
Your smile doesnât reach your eyes. âI can see why you have such a hard time getting along with him. Heâs kind of the worst.â
âWait,â the wheels in Jakeâs mind start to spin. âDid you tell him, then? About our contract and everything?â
âNo,â you shake your head. âHe never realized our relationship wasn't real. I just asked him to give me until New Yearâs. I told him I would break up with you then, as long as he retracted the accusation.â
Jake takes a step closer to you. âAnd he agreed?â
You nod.Â
Jake pauses.Takes another step. âWhy did you ask him to wait until then?â
There are a million things you could say, a million ways you could answer.
Because I couldnât stand the thought of another New Yearâs alone. Because the thought of being at a party hosted by my mother without you at my side made me want to crawl out of my own skin. Because Iâm selfish. Because those butterflies in my stomach have a habit of making me do stupid things. Because everything I told your brother in his office that day was true. Â
You canât give him all of it, but you can at least offer scraps of your honesty. âBecause I wanted to spend my New Yearâs with you.â
Jake says nothing, but his feet are moving. Each step brings him closer and closer to you. It feels a bit like itâs playing out in slow motion, delaying the inevitable. You move backwards until you run out of places to go, until heâs crowding you against the door of his bathroom, invading your space and demanding all of your attention, your focus, you.Â
Thereâs no hesitation this time around, not when he leans down, cupping your chin in one hand to adjust the angle to his liking.
âWait,â you breathe, lips a hair's breadth from his own. âWhat about your brotherââ
âFuck my brother.â
And then his lips are on yours. In the sanctity of his bedroom, in the aftermath of revelations. Itâs the second time in the span of a week, and it already feels familiar. A little bit like coming home.Â
His palm finds a place to land against the sliver of skin exposed just about the waistband of your borrowed sweatpants. A shiver traces the length of your spine, this time not from the cold but from the unbearable, unmistakable heat that threatens to boil over with every touch of a fingertip, every ghost of a caress.Â
When you pull back for air this time, you donât use the moment to shatter whatâs just beginning to build between you. For real this time. Instead you say, âYouâre really good at that, you know.â
âThanks,â Jake grins, still a little breathless. âI could use some more practice, though.â
And who are you to deny him an opportunity for improvement?
âŠ
epilogue â one year later.Â
âThis looks pretty cute on you, you know.â
âDo not touch it,â you hiss, swatting Jakeâs hand away from your graduation cap. âDo you know how long it took me to bobby pin it into place? Youâll rip out half my hair if you try to move it around.â
âOkay, okay. Sorry.â Jake raises his hands in mock surrender, puts them as far as he can from your immaculately done headwear.Â
Unlike you, heâs dressed in jeans and a button-down. But it makes sense. After all, the only person celebrating a milestone today is you. Jake doesnât find that he minds so much. He just submitted his final project for Advanced Typography a few days ago, and he received stellar marks on it. The best in his section, actually. Not to mention that the class has been one of his absolute favorites so far.Â
Besides, his time will come soon enough. In another year or two, itâll be his turn to have a graduation cap bobby pinned to his hair. And he thinks a Graphic Design diploma will lead him to much happier places than a Business one ever would have. Even if it does come a year or two behind the schedule he once cared a lot more about.Â
For starters, it wonât let him or you fall into any more ridiculous traps set by his brother ever again. Turns out, things like photoshop and other image-altering softwares leave traces. Ones that Jake is now excellent at detecting and could use to easily work his way out of false plagiarism accusations the future may throw his way.Â
Straightening your graduation gown, your eyes land on something behind Jakeâs shoulder. Thereâs a crowd today, as to be expected at a graduation ceremony, but youâve always been good at finding what youâre looking for. And even better at finding what youâre avoiding.Â
âI think I see your family,â you nudge Jake. Even his father is here. Mostly, you suspect, because you never bothered to correct his assumption that youâre heading to law school after this. Next to him stands James, lips twisted in permanent disdain, no doubt dragged here against his will.Â
Still, you propose, âShould we go say hi?â The only reason you suggest it is because you also see your second favorite Sim (and first favorite on the days that Jake is particularly annoying). Hand blocking the sun and eyes wandering, you can tell that his mother is looking for the two of you.Â
Jake keeps his back to them, steps in front of you to block you both from their sight. âNo,â he denies flatly. âMy brother is still weirdly obsessed with you.â
You wink, nudge him as you tease, âMust run in the family.â Itâs an echo of a past conversion and rings even more true this time around.Â
âCâmon,â you grab his hand, tugging him along. âI promised your mom a picture. Iâll ignore him. Trust me, Iâm good at it.â Glancing down at your feet, you reconsider. âActually, Iâll step on his foot. These heels werenât just made to look good, you know. Theyâre actually a pretty decent weapon if yielded properly.âÂ
So Jake relents, lets you pull him along. Towards an interaction he doesn't really want to have but knows he will come out of just fine. Towards a future thatâs full of uncertainties and doubts, but is his alone to forge.Â
He doesnât know what life will look like in ten years or five years or even just one, but he knows that he likes the way it feels when he does his best to put a little love into everything he builds. To let it swell and overflow until it touches the world around him and smoothes over lingering remnants of the bitterness and resentment and anger that never did anything but make him miserable.Â
And Jake likes the way it feels when you smile at him. He likes the way it feels when your hand is wrapped up in his own.Â
And for now, he thinks that might just be all he needs.Â
outtake â sixteen years ago.Â
At the age of six, there is a lot you donât know about the world around you yet.Â
For starters, you donât understand why itâs only grown-ups that get to drive. It seems awfully unfair that youâre always relegated to your car seat in the back when the front seems much more exciting, especially considering the way your mom is always yelling at the other cars.Â
Youâre also not sure why she always makes you wear itchy dresses whenever you go to places with a lot of other people. After all, your princess nightgown is way more comfortable, and you like the way it feels against your skin. But no matter how many times you begged, your mom still put you in one of those awful, scratchy dresses tonight. And by the time she finally finishes her first round of mingling at your family firmâs annual charity fundraiser and lets you sit down in the seat next to her for a brief break, youâve already been poked and prodded by people you donât know more times than you can count.Â
Which is saying a lot, since you just learned your numbers up to one hundred last week.
And youâre really not sure what your mom means when she leans over to your father and whispers, âI think this could be the start of something extremely profitable. A contract with the Sims, exclusive rights to represent them legally, I mean, thatâs huge.âÂ
You scratch at your shoulder. Thatâs the itchiest part of your dress. Your mom leans a little closer to your father. âI know you donât like to, but suck up to him a little tonight, if you have to. And if he invites you to golf, you must say yes. We absolutely cannot blow this opportunity.â
At six, your interest is still a flighty thing, and grown-up conversations you canât understand are usually quick to lose it. Itâs not long before your eyes are wandering for something to entertain them, something to hold your focus.Â
Finally, it settles on a boy halfway across the room from you. Heâs small, just like you. You wonder if heâs six, too. If he can also count to one hundred now.Â
Head tilting, you watch as he reaches for one of the delicately balanced centerpiece bouquets sitting on a table in the middle of the room.
âJake,â you hear someone call, that edge of worry only mothers can manage clouding her voice. âDonât touch that, sweetheart. Itâs fragile.â
âFragile?â The boy repeats.
âIt could break easily,â she explains patiently, pulling his hand into hers as she guides him away from the fragile centerpiece. If he is six, youâre definitely smarter than him. After all, you already knew what fragile means.Â
But watching his retreating back, you wonder some more. Wonder if he was made to wear an itchy outfit tonight too, wonder if heâs ever gotten to drive a car or if all mothers are thieves of fun, just like yours. Wonder if he also hates coming to these things, if people pinch and prod at him too.Â
âJake.â You try out his name, just to see how it feels in your mouth.Â
Momentarily distracted by the reminder from your mother to keep your voice at a whisper level, you lose him in the crowd.
Jake, you think to yourself. Most of all, you wonder if he would be your friend.Â
âïœĄïŸâïžïœĄâïœĄ ïŸâŸ ïŸïœĄâ âïœĄïŸâïžïœĄâïœĄ ïŸâŸ ïŸïœĄâ
note: thank you for reading!! I know that this one is quite the commitment with the word count, so I really do appreciate it. as always, I love to hear thoughts, comments, screaming, etc. in the comments, reblogs, or my inbox! also, like part one, this is the latest version I had saved in my docs, and I didn't reread before posting. if there's anything glaringly off, please let me know. other than that, please excuse any minor grammatical stuff.
#enhypen fanfiction#jake sim fanfic#jake sim x reader#enhypen x you#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#jake sim scenarios#jake sim imagines#enhypen fanfic#enhypen angst#enhypen fluff#jake sim fluff#jake sim angst
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Sugar, Spice and a Tempting Vice (1)
VA! MC x OM! Characters
TW: Eh it's more fluffy than smutty I'd say, but minors DNI. Loads of random lore for the sake of immersion. Now to brainstorm the rest of the characters.
INTRO
Tagging: @romaissa @eliciana @your-favorite-god @april-notthemonth69 @ikevampharem @k8tznd8wgz @futureittomain @m-majoko @the-auguer @yurinayumi @i-am-empress-irish @deepazur @rippedbutnotamasterpiece @pomegranateboba @ra1ns70rm @anjodedesgostoeerros @sammywo @annoyingbiscuitathleteland-blog @ourfinalisation @creativecupcake @snowthatareblack @angelofbooksworld
"After a freak accident, you and a group of 5 people get teleported into a fantastical world together. Who will you team up with to try and leave this place? Or will they convince you to stay and have a new life with them here instead? Or will you stumble across the biggest secret that this new world holds...?"
You read out the summary for them at a group dinner at Diavolo's castle. Apparently, it was to celebrate your debut as a VA. They all clapped and bombarded you with questions. You tried to answer as many as you could without any spoilers.
They were supposed to have already started playing the game but the game servers got a little overwhelmed and had to go under maintenance with so many people downloading and making accounts at the same time. So Diavolo hosted this party instead.
"So how many endings can you get with a single character?" Simeon inquired.
"Well on an average there's around 12 endings per character, but there's a varying number of endings depending on the character you choose. I'm not sure I remember for all of them-"
"We just want to know yours." Belphie smirked.
"Oi come on, it makes it sound like you're all just going to play my character, don't do that! The other characters are also incredibly well written!"
The sheepish grins and side glances told you that they were clearly going ignore your last advice.
"Honestly you guys, one of the characters here has a teleportation ability, one can read minds, and another one has insane fighting skills - the only thing you know about my character is that I don't have a name!"
"Omg this means they are definitely building you upto to have the most OP ability of them all!" Levi exclaimed excitedly.
"Oh yes that's usually how it goes in these tropes. The most unassuming character ends up giving you the secret ending." Solomon nodded in agreement.
"Both of you, shush! Just play the game normally okay?! You will get to interact with all the characters anyway until the second phase." You reprimanded, sighing, knowing no one would listen anyway.
Lucifer - Saved by the Belle
"Before Tyla takes us home tomorrow, would you like to spend your last day here with me, Lucifer?"
Lucifer and you worked with loyalty and rigor under Tyla, an old world Sorceror. It was because of you two specifically that Tyla's magic was powerful enough to create a portal back home. Your character was so much like you - it felt like he completed this whole journey of freedom with you, and not just an image on screen.
> "Of course, MC. In fact...I would like to spend the night with you too."
MC blushed on screen, looking away and nodding. "Oh? Well then... I'll look forward to it."
He enjoys this way more than he thought he would. He visits for the last time, all the places you both had been together. The first tavern, the first forest path, the first temporary abode - the HumbleBee Inn.
> "It's late. Should we go back here again, for old times sake?"
"Why not? Maybe they'll accidentally put us in the same room again and get overbooked so we have no other choice. Maybe this time it'll be a bit more...eventful." You said with a sly and knowing smile as you skipped ahead.
Lucifer's knee jerked upwards, hitting the table. Just what kind of lines are these? And what are those expressions? Who else was in there listening to you when you recorded this? The way your voice sounded, Lucifer was convinced you were thinking about someone special. If only you saw the effect you were having on him.
> "I've been holding back all day. Forgive me if I'm too rough."
Lucifer pushes you against the wall, caging your body. You blush in the dark, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. It was driving him insane. He could feel his pants getting tighter at the crotch.
Last time he endured the sexual tension of sharing the bed with you, constantly trying avoid your body even though he was desperate to feel it's warmth. This time there wasn't any reason to deprive himself.
"It's okay...I can take it. Please don't hold back..."
Oh hell, you were about to be the death of him. These...are these really the sounds you'd make in bed? Godamnit you are ruining his mind. He can't relax until he's jerked off now. And it's all your fault.
The next couple days, you notice Lucifer hesitates to keep eye contact with you. In fact, he has a rather visceral reaction every time you simply call his name, standing at his door. Only he knows how badly he wants to pull you into his bed to ravage you - practice your lines with him, why don't you?
Mammon - Stranded Together
"Guess they didn't want either of us huh, Mammon?"
Nah Mammon was mad at this ending. He gets why the group left him behind - he made too many questionable choices like stealing the last reserves of food or money (so you never went hungry), running away from the monsters instead of staying and fighting with the group(with you ofc so you wouldn't be in any danger), finding new shelter and not telling anyone (except you).
> "I'm so sorry...it's because of me that they left you too. You did nothing wrong yet...no this will not stand! I'll go threaten them into taking you too!"
"Mammon wait- no don't! Alright fine I was lying! They didn't leave me...I chose not to go!"
Mammon was stunned. He stared at your character blushing and looking elsewhere while holding onto his arm. His heart beat just a little bit faster.
> "Wait...what? But you wanted to...don't you want to go back and keep looking for your family?!"
"Who knows if the family I was looking for even exists?! But you...you are real. And you are so kind to me, and so great. So..."
Your character moved in closer and closer to him. Mammon leaned back too far from the screen, falling backwards on the floor. He was not ready for what was about to come.
"If I really want a family that bad...I can just make one here...with you. But only if you wanted that too ..."
> "I do! Of course I do! We can both find work and home in the kingdom now that big monsters are all dead! I'll be yours and you'll be mine!"
Mammon pressed it on instinct, not knowing his character was gonna grab yours and pin them to the ground. His face burnt up in excitement seeing you all cornered like this. You blushed and whispered as you leaned in to kiss him.
"Hehe...Mammon...I'm all yours already. But there's others ways you can claim me if you like..."
Your sleeves fell loose, and off your shoulders and his hands began to wander. Mammon almost screamed the house down, grabbing at his sheets, humping his pillows, struggling to look away from the screen. But he couldn't stop.
How the fuck was he supposed to face you tomorrow at the breakfast table?! Yet, Mammon re-played that part at least 30 times. And now every time you whispered to him in class, Mammon had to grip his knees and stop himself from imagining the unholiest things.
Leviathan - Power of Friend-ship??
"We did it! We actually did it, Levi! Can you believe it?! Look even the people are cheering for us!"
Levi punched the air in glee, he definitely must have gotten the best ending right?! That was such an intense combat scene - he almost cried when he thought you got swallowed by the Giant of The Depths, then he watched you burst out of its stomach with all the other victims while he slashed through its neck. You and him - the two underdogs dealt the final blow. At this point, every other character was shipping you two together.
> "Let's go Army of the Third Lord!"
MC cheered and high fived him from the screen, while the rest of the group danced in celebration! Ah MC had already become one of his favourite characters of all time. He had already preordered the action figures, posters and a body pillow (yes the ecchi one).
"Come on Levi, won't you join the celebration feast!? Everyone is calling for you!"
Oh no this was Levi's nightmare. Loud and crowded parties - but it was you asking him to go, what if he missed out on an important secret ending. Just to be safe he chose a neutral option to see what you would prefer.
> ... I'm not too sure.
"Then...would you like to celebrate in private with me? I know a quiet place with a good view."
Levi almost fell out of his seat. It's happening. This is where he unlocks the hidden erotic ending. The blush on your face, the way you held out your hand for him to take - biting down on his knuckles in excitement.
> I'd really prefer that! Thank you!
You smile and nod, leading him by the hand to a nearby pond. The moonlight shimmered on the water, the reflections dancing on your skin as you both lay down next to each other. Levi could feel himself falling for you all over again.
"Look Levi, in the pond! The Gloriees are back! Aren't they beautiful?"
Levi looked at the pond in awe, glowing orange fishes swam around in the waters, jumping in and out. He watched the fishes swim around the hand you put in the water. It was like you and hundred Henries in the water.
> "So beautiful..."
"They are my absolute favorite....they have the same color as your eyes..."
Your hands reach up to touch his face, pulling him closer and Levi feels all his self restraint jump out the window. He tried to grab and kiss you but ended falling in the water with you instead.
"Oh? I didn't know I excite you so much... don't worry, it makes me really happy..."
You rose from the water, laughing and coughing slightly, your entire body now laid bare through the transparent white cloth. And if that wasn't already bad enough, he heard your moans as his character started going at it with you in the lake. You were so professional, so skilled at it...he thought he was prepared for it but he clearly wasn't.
Levi couldn't resist jerking himself off there and then, soiling his computer screen with light ropes of his cum. Now every time you announced you were going to shower, this image just popped into his mind, giving him instant boners at the most unfortunate times. And god forbid he sees you walk out of the shower with your hair wet - he'll have to rush to his room to hide that he's creamed his pants.
Satan - Bridge to Televithyia
"Satan, I will be waiting for you always. I know if fate wills it, I'll definitely get to see you again."
Satan cursed himself for this ending, almost chucking his phone at the wall. His magical powers no longer worked since the portal now connected him to his own world. And while you could use all your magic here, it would lose all power in his world. With both worlds needing help after a long and destructive battle, you both knew it was selfish to abandon your either of them - especially since you two were the only Great Guardians left.
> "I will find a permanent path between our worlds. I swear upon my life, MC."
Damnit this game had better not cut his story short. He was willing to keep going, trying to fix the playthrough so he could make a good ending out of this. Just you wait MC, he's not letting you go. A part of him wanted to go into your room and hug you, just to make sure you're there atleast in real life.
Satan rubbed furiously at his eyes as you waved him goodbye. His total playtime could rival Levi's. After gathering enough resources and magical knowledge - he could finally get started on creating the bridge. But to his pleasant surprise, he only needed to build half of the bridge, because there you were standing on the other - building your own path towards him too.
"Satan...is this a dream? Are you really back? Or is this another magical illusion again...?"
Satan blushed as you rushed to hug him peppering kisses all over his face. He had to physically get away from the game, walk around, and silently scream into his hands before he could calm himself down. Because he knew even better things were yet to come.
> "It's really me, MC. I'm sorry did I make you wait too long? I missed you so terribly...I have so many things to tell you about..."
"Come with me, we've been rebuilding our town. I know a place we can catch up...it's a special place I helped build with you in mind."
Satan follows you, your arms intertwined. You point out places to him - old renovations and newer projects. You tell him about everything that's been happening since he left.
How some endangered species came back to life, how the remaining smaller beasts were tamed and how the cursed were given peace. You stopped suddenly in front of a quaint little cottage.
"Welcome to my humble abode. I'm sorry I didn't prepare a separate room for you...because I thought you wouldn't mind sharing a bed with me..."
He blushes and grips your hand as you open the door to your room. He sees pictures of both of you on the wall and next to the bed.
> "You already built a home...with me in mind. *Smiles* Yet...the bed looks in it hasn't been slept in for a while? Did you get no sleep for the past few days?"
"Actually I haven't slept in the bed yet. I sleep on the sofa - I know it's silly but I really don't like sleeping alone in a place of two..."
Satan grips the phone tighter, as he makes his character push you on the bed. How sweet - you both get to enjoy it together for the first time. He climbs after you, trapping you underneath him.
> "Good thing I'm here now, MC."
He cups your face and trails his hands downwards, undoing some buttons on your clothes. You kiss his palms and tug down his collar.
"It's a pity though...I don't think we'll be using the bed for sleeping tonight afterall..."
He watched the screen, slack-jawed as I heard your sultry voice echoing through his room. He fell back on his pillow, hurriedly attaching his earphones. It proved to be more lethal. He could almost imagine you in his bed right now, kissing your way down his chest, while he fondles your bottom.
When you approached him later asking if he liked your work in the game, he had to cover half his face to hide the redness. He couldn't possibly tell you that he had downloaded snippets of all your moans and saved them to a secret folder. Or that he listened to them quite frequently.
#obey me#obey me smut#obey me Lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me x reader#wow im uploading after 4 months and I did only 4 characters...#don't you just love when work stress and writer's block double attack and cripple your creativity entirely...yeah me too
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blades | aemond targaryen
pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader
summary: aemondâs dagger has always been a point of adoration for you
warnings: knife play (MDNI 18+), smut this is filthy!!, slight blood play
a/n: prepared this prompt for kinktober and liked it too much, oops. also!! iâm saying the dagger hilt is leather because iâm pretty sure thatâs what they were made of then, but i do wanna say DO NOT BUY LEATHER!! SHOP CRUELTY FREE!! this blog is vegan :)
ââââââ ⟠ââââââ
He was known throughout the realm to be skilled with a blade. While his brother just used sheer force, Aemond was known for strategic, calculated maneuvers.
You loved to sit and watch him duel with members of the Kingâs Guard, ensuring his skills remained sharp, though they werenât much competition after a while.
You watched how he bobbed and weaved, counteracting each and every oncoming strike, blocking sword with sword. What you admired most, however, was his dagger. It was a small thing, at least compared to his sword, but it seemed so personal, so intimate. It was quick enough in his hand that his opponents wouldnât see it coming until it was pressed against their neck, prompting them to admit defeat.
You always wondered how he got so good at it. Perhaps he wanted to be better prepared to defend himself, a move of pure safety, or maybe he truly loved a fight. Perhaps, you thought, a blade had been the very thing that wounded him to begin with, and he needed to feel a certain sense of control over it. No matter the reason, you couldnât complain. You loved watching him and his dagger.
You had mentioned this admiration to Aemond before, but you never had the guts to express how much. Aemond would never think to bring the blade anywhere near your body; he would not allow anything near you that may harm you in any way.
So you caught him off guard. Shortly after a sparring session, Aemond retreated back to his chambers to change, and you followed suit, catching him just before he began to undress.
âY/N, to what do I owe this surprise?â Aemond questioned, glasses in hand, offering you one as he took a sip of his own.
You stepped forward and accepted the cup, taking a sip of its contents before reaching past him to place the cup down on the table next to him. âJust wanted to say hi.â
Aemond chuckled at this. âYou just wanted to say hi?â
Your fingers began tracing patterns on his clothes, beginning on his chest, and moving lower and lower. âMhm.â
âThat is all?â
Your eyes trailed up his body, meeting his eye as you attempted to distract him from your next move.
âI mean, maybe not all-â you trailed off, risking it all by reaching for his dagger and pulling it out of the sheath, holding it close to his throat, but not touching.
Aemond slowly placed his cup down, both hands slowly moving upward to wrap around the wrist you had toward his throat.
You saw the movement coming and stepped backward, out of his reach.
âY/N, give me the dagger.â
You jutted your bottom lip out in a pout. âWhy should I do that?â
âWell, why do you want the dagger?â Aemond questioned.
You ignored him, placing both knees on the bed so you were kneeling on the mattress. You began to trail the dagger up your torso, through the seams of your clothes. âWhat if I just cut this off right now?â
Aemond sighed and approached you. âY/N, thatâs a serious blade, it could hurt you. Please put it down.â
âItâs a serious blade,â you mocked.
âIâm not playing games, Y/N, please.â
You locked eyes with him, stopping your demonstrations. âWhat if I am? What if I want to play games?â
Aemond glared at you, a long look exchanged between you both before he lept onto the bed, grabbing the dagger and pushing you down until you were laying flat on the mattress, the dagger to your throat.
âThis is what happens when you play games with dangerous toys,â he spoke.
You pushed your head upward so your throat pressed into the side of the blade. âIâm not scared of you.â
âYou should be, especially when I have this.â
You scoffed. âYou wonât do anything. You wonât even pretend like you will.â
Aemond cocked his head to the side. He noticed your endgame, and while he was worried about accidentally hurting you, who was he to deny you what you want?
He began to press the blade down. âLie back down or this is gonna hurt.â
You enthusiastically dropped your head back onto the pillow, his blade still dangerously close to your throat.
âUndress.â
You looked up at him confused.
âI canât sit up,â you reminded him.
âYou wanted the danger, you got it,â he retorted, ânow do it.â
You tried with all your might to slip your dress over your head without pushing your neck further into the blade. After several minutes of struggle, you successfully undressed yourself with no neck wounds sustained.
âGood girl,â Aemond spoke, undoing his breeches and lining up his cock at your entrance.
You pouted at him. He usually prepares you for him, and while you were already aroused, his cock was large enough that you still needed it.
âWhat, canât handle me yet?â he tsked.
You nodded your head no. Aemond removed the blade from your throat, twisting it in his hand so that he was carefully holding the metal, gesturing the hilt toward you.
âWhat do you want me to do with this?â you asked, grasping the hilt in your hand.
âYou said you needed a warm-up.â
Your eyes widened in both astonishment and arousal. You never, in a million years, thought he would allow you to do something like this.
His eye remained locked on you as you moved the dagger lower until it reached your aching hole.
âAh ah ah,â Aemond warned, ânot yet, bug.â He took the dagger back for a brief moment, holding the hilt up to your lips. âSpit.â
You attempted to lube up the dagger as much as possible, spitting on it. You then moved the dagger lower, rubbing it between your folds to catch the wetness, eliciting a whine from the back of your throat. Aemondâs eye still never left yours.
You slowly began to push the hilt of the dagger in, whines and whimpers involuntarily spilling from your lips.
Aemond couldnât help it, his eye broke contact with yours and watched as you pushed the entire hilt of the dagger inside of yourself, stopping it for a brief second before slowly pushing it in and out.
Aemondâs cock began to twitch at the sight.
âFeel better?â he asked, patronizingly.
âMhm,â you moaned.
âGood girl,â he cooed, âthen itâs my turn.â
He swatted your hand away from where it was holding the dagger in you, pulling it out viciously and bringing it back up to your throat.
âTaste it.â
You wrapped your lips around the soaked leather, tasting your juices on every braid and wrap. Aemond watched intently before pulling the hilt out of your mouth and moving the blade back to your throat.
He lined himself up and pushed his entire length into you in almost one shot, causing you to moan out loud. He set a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you, causing your body to rock back and forth, throat dangerously close to the sharp metal.
The presence of the dagger only added to your arousal more, the danger of getting hurt present, but you trusted Aemond enough to know you wouldnât sustain a serious injury, as long as he was paying attention.
Aemond dipped his head onto your shoulder, fucking you hard and fast. The hand that wasnât holding a blade to your throat moved to hold himself up further, staring into your eyes as he watched you squirm and whine for him.
He hit a particularly good spot, and you arched your back, your neck pushing up when you moved back down, a slight stinging sensation hitting your throat. Aemond watched as the ever-so-tiny amount of blood dripped from the small slice. He leaned in and licked the blood up with his tongue, causing tears to spill out onto your cheeks from the mix of pain and pleasure.
âAem- Aemond- I-â
You couldnât even form a coherent sentence as your high crashed over you, breathing erratic and a final moan of his name escaping your lips. Aemondâs high followed, his seed spilling into you as he snapped his hips a final few times.
He threw the dagger onto the floor as he rolled next to you, eager to get it out of the danger zones of your body.
âDid I hurt you?â he asked, inspecting the small cut on your neck.
âA little,â you admitted, âbut that was the point.â
#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen imagines#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen smut
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I honestly didn't ever expect that I'd be in the position where I'd be using this blog not just to analyse what has come before in Homestuck, but to look toward the comic's future and do some real old-fashioned theorycrafting. but the time has come. so here goes; lime-bloods' Beyond Canon theories as of the July 6th 2024 update:
Vriska's Going to Hell
were all gonna help you! / whether you like it or not
a select few eagle-eyed readers already noticed that the sound used in last month's (Vriska: Figure shit out yourself.) is called "hell_tierwav". while it was easy to dismiss this as irrelevant composer shenanigans at the time, it's now become clear exactly what this was foreshadowing. whether it would be more apt to call this "Hell" or "Purrgatory" is probably up for debate - but whatever you call it, Vriska's been placed in a dimension seemingly tailored specifically for her personal torment.
while Vriska characteristically interprets the recreation of her childhood home as a symbol of how badass she was, the ghosts of her past - both literal, as the shades of the trolls she killed as Mindfang, and figurative, in the form of sprites wearing the faces of her dead friends - show us in no uncertain terms that Vriska's childhood home is the stage where traumas play out.
Erisolsprite puts it succinctly with his welcome to hell, but pay close attention to what exactly we're being welcomed to: this update ends on page 665. so as of this next update, we'll be starting on page 666.
Does Homestuck Have Hell?
the exact bubble of reality Vriska's currently found herself in seems to be an entirely new construction of the likes we've not yet seen in Homestuck - but that doesn't mean this kind of cosmic torment is without precedent. because while 666 is a number with Satanic connotations in the broader cultural context, it also has a very particular meaning of its own within the world of Homestuck. indeed, the latter half of the comic almost revolves around it, culminating in a climax in Act 6 Act 6 Act 6.
specifically, this repetition of a single digit is emblematic of recursive storytelling. to summarise what you can already read about in detail in my essay The World / The Wheel: when Caliborn is 'gifted' the Act 6 Act 6 supercartridge, which he is told is an "expansion" of Homestuck, it's a trick. there is no "expansion"; he's going to be trapped in a story that never ends because it keeps dividing into smaller and smaller versions of itself forever. the only way to truly beat the devil who trapped the heroes within a story is to trap him in his own story.
that's what Caliborn's "Hell" is, and that's also exactly what the Alternate Calliope achieved in Act 7 by creating the black hole which Vriska knocked Lord English into, ending Homestuck's story - something that Calliope even hints at in this very update, when she refers to the black hole as "containment"; not an accident, but a deliberately crafted prison. black holes are a symbol of recursion and regression; being sucked into one means being forced to live out your whole life over and over again, forever. so really, this is all we ever could have expected to happen when Vriska stepped into a black hole within a black hole! the presentation of the narrative even subtly hints at this; events in Beyond Canon that take place in the black hole are enclosed (in brackets), and now events that take place in a black hole-within-a-black-hole are contained within {curly brackets}, because you should always use a different kind of brackets to differentiate nested parenthesis from each other!
it is absolutely no coincidence that when Caliborn closes the curtains on his appearances in Homestuck, thinking he's won when really he's been condemned to a hell of his own making forever more, it's with a tribute to this exact same Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff strip.
IF YOU REMEMBER JUST ONE THING I SAY, OF SO MANY GREAT THINGS SAID BY ME, THEN PLEASE REMEMBER THIS. I WANTED TO PLAY A GAME.
So What Does That Mean?
one of Beyond Canon's central missions is expanding upon Homestuck's exploration of the relationships between author, text, and audience. as discussed above, a large part of Homestuck's thesis is the evil of forcing characters to live the same lives and the same stories over and over without the chance to grow or move on, and Beyond Canon picks up on this by placing Dirk in the position of trying to keep Homestuck going forever purely to appease its fans, while the Alternate Calliope continues to oppose this ideology. and while the alpha Calliope outwardly seems not to have taken a hard position on where she stands in this cosmic battle, the question posed by her device seems to be an entirely new one: can it actually be a good thing to regress, to return to ground that the story has already covered? can this path lead to something new, rather than merely stagnation?
it's so relevant that Vriska is being confronted with the crimes of her past, not only in the form of all the trolls she was personally responsible for killing but also in the form of the exact same punishment she condemned Lord English to with her heroism - complete with the herd of horses that are always present at Caliborn's demise! but where being condemned to an eternal cycle was fitting punishment for Caliborn, someone who refuses to break free of cycles of abuse and instead chooses to enact that same abuse on the world around him... if Vriska is someone who can break free of these cycles, who can change and become a better person despite what happened to her, will this punishment have the same effect? or, as Davepeta seems to believe, is forcing Vriska to reckon with her own past and traumas exactly what will allow her to break free of that cycle?
DAVE: [...] ill just be over here in the hyper gravity chamber training to beat lord english KARKAT: WE HAVE A HYPER GRAVITY CHAMBER???
it's hard not to be struck by the parallels in design and purpose between the Plot Point and Dragon Ball's Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and not just because of the Dragon Ball enthusiasts present on Beyond Canon's writing and art teams: albeit in typically Strider-bastardised form, the Time Chamber got a shoutout in Andrew Hussie's own Homestuck (see quote above), in a reference that was even picked up on by prolific theorist bladekindeyewear at the time. for the uninitiated: the Hyperbolic Time Chamber allowed its users to train for extended stretches of time, sometimes even spanning years, while a significantly smaller time period passed in the world outside - something that is actually true of real-life black holes! and with the Plot Point's own emphasis on time, represented by the hourglass included among its mechanisms, it seems to me that an essential part of making the 16-year-old Vriska ready for the trials ahead will be giving her the time to undergo the same growth her adult friends have experienced.
considering that Beyond Canon is already playing in the Ultimate Self space, where there are levels of power beyond merely the "god tiers", it also doesn't seem too farfetched to speculate that Vriska, forced to reckon with the fact that becoming a powerful Thief of Light isn't the be-all and end-all of personal growth, will take another leaf out of Dragon Ball's book here and ascend "beyond Super Saiyan". perhaps this is even the "hell tier" so cheekily alluded to in the Plot Point flash? certainly this kind of evolution would be the perfect way to challenge Dirk's belief that the Ultimate Self is the only logical final step for a character's development.
whatever the case, I believe we can take Davepeta at their word here. I don't think it's just a joke that by the end of this ordeal Vriska Serket is going to be fucking RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPED!
#homestuck#beyond canon#upd8#vriska#vriska serket#davepetasprite#caliborn#black holes#theory#< apparently ive used this tag before but i cant say what for. will have to check later
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I Was Enchanted to Meet You ~LA!Shanks x Reader~
Summary: Shanks comes back to you before he leaves your village once again. Except this time, it may be your final goodbye.
Authorâs Note: I just watched the live action One Piece show and I have to say... I am a slut for Buggy, Shanks, and Mihawk.
Fluff Ending | Angst Ending
Readerâs Pronouns: She/Her
Warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of smut, reader and Shanks being Luffy's adoptive parents in a way
Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!
Do not repost this anywhere!
You were Luffy's caretaker and teacher. While his grandfather was a high respected Marine, he entrusted you with his grandson whenever he wasn't available to take care of him.
"I'm bored of this," Luffy said as you two were going over some reading.
"A good pirate should know how to read."
"Yeah but I should be preparing to set sail when Shanks comes back," Luffy said.
"How about this? We can go see Shanks today since he is suppose to be back today after we finish our lesson?" You asked him.
"Alright!" Luffy smiled before looking down at his book.
True to your word, you both headed over to the dock where you saw Shanks's ship. You watched as Luffy rushed over to the deck before helping out.
"Luffy! I was wondering when you'd pop up," Shanks said as he finally noticed the small boy. You leaned against the edge while Shanks looked around before finally seeing you. His smile widen a little more before walking over towards you.
"And how are you, my dear Y/n?" Shanks asked as he raised your hand to his lips.
"Nice to see you again Shanks," you smiled at him.
"I'm not joking! I'm ready to join your crew," Luffy insisted to Shanks.
"The sea isn't a child's game. It's dangerous. The scars on my face are proof of that. Besides, I need someone to watch over Y/n and I trust you," Shanks told Luffy as he continued to help his crew unload their ship.
"I can do it, Shanks. I swear," Luffy said.
"You're not ready."
"I am. And I'll show you!" Luffy said before rushing off in the ship. You walked over to Shanks before placing your hand on his. He looked over at you as you gave him a look.
"You really need to be more easy on him. You know how he can be," you tell Shanks.
"Better a disappointed kid now than a dead one later."
"I blame you for being a good pirate and influencing him," you tell him.
"I missed you. Let's celebrate my return tonight together shall we?" Shanks asked you.
"Hey, Shanks!" You heard Luffy. You quickly turned around to see Luffy standing on the top of the view port making you gasp once you saw the knife.
"Luffy! You better come back down here and put that knife back where you found it!" You tell him.
"Listen to Y/n, Luffy. Before you hurt yourself," Shanks called out.
"I'm not afraid of getting hurt. And I'll prove it to you," Luffy yelled before stabbing right below his eye.
"Luffy!" You screamed in shock and horror.
"Get the first aid kit! I'll get him down," Shanks told you. You nodded before rushing out of the ship to grab your first aid kit.
"Why would you do that to yourself?!" You asked Luffy as you stitched him up.
"You could've stabbed your eye," Shanks told him as he sat next to you.
"I was aiming for it, but I missed," Luffy told you.
"Ow," Luffy said as you tightened the stitches a little.
"I thought you said you were tough," Shanks asked him.
"I am! Y/n is just being a little too rough. I want everyone to see my scar," Luffy said.
"Scars don't make the man, Luffy. It's the lesson behind the scar and you didn't earn this one," Shanks told him before tapping his cheek.
"Then let me earn it. I'll be the best pirate ever. Look, I've been practicing what my face is gonna look like on my wanted poster," Luffy said before making a face. You shook your head at him as you gathered your things.
"You are going to give me a heart attack, Luffy," you tell him as you ruffled his hair. You stood up and walked away to put your first aid kit back.
When you made it back to the bar, you saw Shanks walk up to your with your favorite drink. You sat on the chair next to the bar as you faced Shanks. He raised the glasses to you with a smile.
"Have a drink with me," Shanks told you.
"I need to look after Luffy."
"One drink. Then later tonight, you meet me at my ship and we can have our little reunion?" Shanks insisted.
It was no doubt that the two of you had feelings for one another. Shanks loved how soft and caring you were while you loved his gentle touch when it came to you.
"Fine. I hope I don't find anything that belongs to another woman in your ship again," you tell him, remembering the last time you went to his ship after Luffy was asleep.
"It was one time and you know I changed my ways for you," Shanks said as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You took a swing of your drink before giving him a light kiss on the cheek.
Once it became nightfall, you got Luffy ready for bed so you could meet with Shanks. After finding out that he ate a devil fruit, you were livid but you knew that Luffy didn't understand what power and weaknesses the devil fruit had affected him.
"I don't know why you won't let us go with Shanks," Luffy said as you tucked him in.
"You know that the sea isn't for me and you aren't ready to be a pirate. Even if you did eat a devil's fruit," you tell him.
"But you and Shanks love each other. Why can't we just sail with him? I can learn how to be a pirate and I'm stronger now," Luffy said.
"Your grandfather will kill me if I just took you away. And like I said, I am not too fond of the sea. Now it's time for bed for you," you tell him.
"Fine. Goodnight, Y/n."
"Goodnight, Luffy."
Once he was fully asleep, you walked over to Shanks's ship where you could see his quarter's lights on. You walked over to his room where he lied on his bed with his shirt off.
"Getting straight to the point now are we?" You teased as you closed the door behind you. You locked the door before walking over towards his bed. Shanks sat up so you could stand in between his legs.
"I missed you, my love," Shanks said as he pulled you down on the bed with him.
He cupped your cheeks as he kissed you passionately. You cupped his cheeks as well, smoothing your thumb against his scars below his eye.
"I missed you too," you tell him in between kisses.
"Let me have you for tonight," Shanks said as he undid your dress. You sat up before slipping it off of your body.
"You're as beautiful as the day I met you," Shanks praised as he sat up to kiss your body.
-
"How long are you staying this time?" You asked him as you both lied in his bed. Your naked bodies was covered by the thin blanket as you both held onto each other.
"Till tomorrow," Shanks told you.
"How long will you be gone?" You asked. Shanks stayed quiet making you look up at him.
"Shanks. How long will you be gone?" You repeated.
"We're not coming back this time, my love," Shanks told you.
"What?"
"Come with me. I'll take care of you and-"
"Shanks, my home is here. And I can't leave Luffy. He's still a growing boy and I could never forgive myself if I were to abandon him," you tell him as you sat up.
"My love-"
"Shanks, I'm not joining you in the sea and you know why. I'm sorry," you tell him as you got up and put your clothes back on.
"Stay the night. Please," Shanks said as he held your hand.
"I can't. I think it's best if we ended this," you tell him.
"I don't want this to end. Please, Y/n. Come with me to find the One Piece and we can live our lives out together," Shanks told you. You shook your head at him before giving him one last kiss.
"I love you, Shanks. But I can't leave here. Not yet at least," you tell him before walking out.
-
The next day, you watched as Shanks says his goodbye to Luffy. You stared as he gave his hat to Luffy before making eye contact with you. He walked over towards you before taking something out of his pocket.
"I saw this while I was away and wanted to give it to you," Shanks said as he held out a beautiful ring.
"Shanks-"
"I just want you to know that I want you, my love. Will you wait for me?" Shanks asked.
"You need to find that one piece soon so you can come back and get me," you tell him with a small smile.
"I'll come back for you. I promise," Shanks said before sliding the ring onto your finger. He quickly gave you a kiss before walking away.
You put an arm around Luffy as you watched Shanks's ship sail off. You both waved at him as he stared at the two of you.
"When I become King of the Pirates, I'll give you a nice home where you and Shanks can live the rest of your lives together," Luffy tells you. You smiled down at him before ruffling his hair.
"I'll hold you to that," you tell him.
#red hair shanks#live action shanks#shanks x reader#live action shanks x reader#akagami no shanks#akagami no shanks x reader#one piece#one piece live action#one piece x reader#one piece imagine#peter gadiot#enchanted universe#alisonwritesimagines
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Hey hey! Iâve recently come across your blog and I just adore your writing.
Iâm a sucker for Hannie catching feelings, being nervous, and flustered when he likes someone.
So Iâm really interested in your take on Jisung getting ready for his first date with y/n. Whatâs going on in his head? Where does he take her? Is it a night in or a night out?
Does he kiss her? I really want him too. I wanna know it unfolds.
Iâm just feeling so lovey dovey and warm and fuzzy over him đ„°đ„°đ„°
THIS IS SO CUTE???? I imagine heâs SO NERVOUS for the first date, like what if he messes up? what if he says the wrong thing?
word count: 1k
genre: han jisung x female reader, fluff fluff fluff
âââ ââ
ââ
â âââ
Jisung holds yet another shirt in front of him, scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror. Donât overthink this. Sheâs literally just coming over for dinner.
It was actually you who had suggested the date, looking much more confident than he felt. Heâs positive that he scrambled up his words in his eagerness to agree, much to his embarrassment, but you seemed to have gotten the point. In his defense, itâs quite hard to form a cohesive sentence when youâre smiling at him like that.
Wiping his clammy hands on his jeansâ should he have worn jeans? Would sweats be better?â Jisung finally decides on a simple black tee. (after a brief internal game of eenie meenie of course.)
Deciding on the location of the date was the easy part. Both of you are big homebodies, preferring the familiarity and sanctity of home rather than a loud, public place. The hard part was choosing whose house to have it at. After much âproductive debateâ it was decided that the date would take place in his apartment, and you would bring the food.
As if on cue, four sharp knocks are heard at the door right as Jisung finishes arranging his hair just so.
He restrains himself from booking it to the door, decidedly clamping down on the sudden spark of butterflies let loose in his gut.
Upon answering the door, he is immediately at a loss for words. Again. Honestly, he is much better at expressing his feelings in lyrics rather than actually saying them out loud.
You just look so⊠Perfect. The way your eyes crinkle up as you greet him with that smile, the slight crookedness of your jacket paired with your cheeks, rosy from the November cold. He really hopes you canât hear the way his heart picked up just now.
âSo you gonna let me in or what?â You chuckle, eyes dancing with amusement, âThis takeout isnât going to eat itself you know.â
âOh! Yeahâ right!â Jisung stumbles, âCome in, uh⊠make yourself at home.â The takeout bag crinkles as he takes it from you, allowing you to kick off your shoes and hang up your jacket.
His gaze jumps from the oversized tee that frames your figure just so, to the hint of a cute little pleated skirt peeking from underneath the hem. Immediately, he jerks his attention back up to your face, albeit not before you noticed him checking you out. He can feel the tips of his ears burn as you raise your eyebrows and send him a sweet little smile.
Yeah, youâre trying to kill him.
Thankfully, dinner went smoothly, as Jisung had finally managed to get his mouth and brain on the same wavelength (except when you had gotten a bit of sauce just under your lip, and instead of letting you know he kind of just stared at it.)
After the dishes had been put away and an impromptu acapella performance of âSugarâ by Maroon 5 had been performed, you two end up sat on the couch with a blanket, scrolling through Netflix for something interesting to watch.
Settling on a penguin documentary, Jisung flicks off the overhead lights before settling back down on the couch with you. Heâs careful to keep a bit of space between your legs and his, not wanting to come off too strong. He wants to hold you close and run his hand through your hair. He wants to feel the pulse of your wrist flutter underneath his fingertips, the curve of your bone beneath your skin. He wants to. So badly. But he wonât, not yet. Youâd probably think heâs weird.
So, when you scoot your butt towards him so your hips touch and lean your head to rest on his shoulder, itâs safe to say Jisung was a bit surprised. So much so that in fact instead of reciprocating the motion at all, he freezes in place. He scarcely dares to breathe, in fear that the slightest movement from him might cause you to move off him like a skittish cat.
Upon realizing you donât have any plans of moving any time soon, he takes a deep breath before wrapping his arm around you, pulling you to lean on his chest rather than his shoulder.
He can feel your smile as you sigh and snuggle into him, and he thinks his heart might burst. The nervousness of earlier, the jumbled thoughts, the need to act just right, all dissipates now that youâre here in his arms. Your physical presence against him is like a cup of hot cocoa while a snowstorm rages outside. A sudden lull in the throes of chaos that ever-consume his actions.
It was 1:00 am by the time you needed to head home. Passionate discussions on the gender roles of penguins can sometimes take a while alright?
As he accompanies you to the door, he momentarily pouts to himself that you canât stay over. Woah, Jeez. Slow down. Itâs the first date.
Before he could hug you goodbye, youâre tugging on his shirt collar dragging him down to plant a kiss on his cheek. Pulling away, you giggle at the shocked look he gives you. Jisungâs face feels hot, and without thinking, he hooks an arm around your waist, drawing you flush against him. Looking into your eyes for permission, he dips down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.
Itâs brief, but those three seconds feel like a lifetime to Jisung. Youâre so soft, so perfect, so you. Everything falls right into place, a perfect puzzle woven from the strings of the tapestry called life.
You pull away and boop him on the nose.
âNext time, itâll be at my place.â
@jisunggy
#writing#answered asks#ask#anonymous#request#han jisung x you#han jisung x reader#stray kids#han jisung fluff#drabble#han jisung comfort#cute#fluff#fanfic#stray kids fanfic#han jisung fanfic
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I was in a Baxter mood today so I went swimming in GB Patch's blog for all the Baxter facts:
General
His personality, at least defined by GB Patch, is that he's sheltered and out-of-touch without being elitist or self-centered. He's preppy/posh, quite sociable, and hates conflict, but likes to go against what's expected of him. He grows out of being such a rich kid trust fund baby by Step 4.
His parents are bigots. He's the unlucky one in a sea of characters with supportive parents.
He has a distant French origin.
His birthday is the day his DLC came out, meaning May 19th.
He's 5'11" (180cm) in Step 4 (this was apparently reconfirmed on the Our Life Discord as well).
His natural hair color - a dark dusty gray that he hates - is uncommon to be born with (as opposed to aged into) in the Our Life universe.
He's right-handed.
Childhood
His dream job as a child was to get into investments, having a strong portfolio with diverse assets (he does not fully know what that means at the time).
He's a late bloomer.
Baxter's crush on Qiu from Our Life 2 is at its peak when he's 12 and 13 (13 being his age in Our Life 2's Step 1), but he's moving on by 14 (when he can potentially meet the MC in Soiree).
He met Qiu at their local dance hall (as they both took lessons there, just in different forms of dance) and also met Ren/Renee (Darren in Our Life 2's Step 1) through Qiu, as the two had known each other since they were very young.
He wasn't thrown off by his crush on Qiu despite Qiu being a boy, as Qiu was popular and it seemed "unfair" to Baxter not to be able to like him. He puts more thought into it as he grows older and what it means, deciding that he'll feel however he'll feel and not worry about what's expected of him. In Soiree, the MC can notice this if they're male or non-binary, as Baxter isn't bothered by dancing with someone who isn't female.
Abilities (or Lack Thereof)
He's a weak swimmer. He can swim fine in pools but would probably struggle in the ocean.
He can sing.
He's experienced in multiple types of dance (though his favorite is the waltz).
Step 3 Baxter is a lazy, bad cook who doesn't even want to bother with cooking, but Step 4 Baxter takes an interest in trying more fancy/restaurant-style food and is able to do so.
Likes/Dislikes
He likes things being clean, but isn't always motivated enough to maintain that.
He liked video games when he was a kid, leaning towards action/adventure ones, though doesn't anymore in his late teens and beyond. He would play life-based games (such as the Sims series) with the MC if asked, however, either playing innocent like he didn't know what he was doing while messing around with the characters or being blatantly obvious about it.
He doesn't like dancing in clubs/discos. He would try it once because he enjoys trying different types of dance, but would only go regularly if he had a friend/partner who liked going to such places.
He would absolutely approve of an MC who chooses to only wear black and white.
Romantic Inclinations
Beyond his crush on Qiu (who he never confessed to), Baxter dates people, but never for long or seriously.
The reason he backs out of asking out the MC if they say that he's their first crush (unless the MC is referring to his Soiree self) is that he feels they have idealized feelings for him and he'd disappoint them. He essentially panics, not wanting to get the MC's hopes up and especially on their very first feelings of romance.
The best way to romance him is to Not Let Him Escape.
In terms of how Baxter will/won't date in the future between Step 3 and 4 if he had a fling with the MC, answers range from him not dating anyone if the player intent was that they were both genuinely in love, but would otherwise to him trying to move on with others but the flings become even more surface level than before to the point where he's simply going through the motions. He ultimately hits a breaking point (whether he dated the MC or not) and ends up improving due to the MC's return in his life and/or support from other people such as Xavier.
When it comes to what he's attracted to in another person, he likes seeing nail polish, false lashes/heavy mascara/naturally long eyelashes, and full suits (especially if they're expertly tailored).
His love language in terms of receiving is Quality Time, but in terms of giving, he will happily adapt to whatever the MC wants.
Clothing Choices
When it comes to Step 4 Baxter's personal dress code, he's always meeting/formal ready (even when not working) unless he's doing anything athletic, in which case the button-downs get a break.
- Likewise, his closet is basically all button-downs and fancy suits with a few exceptions including clothes suited for the cold.
Assorted
Him skinny-dipping didn't happen in Golden Grove, and the Now & Forever main cast are not his friends by then.
He immediately finds the MC and Cove appealing (not necessarily crushing on them) at the start of Step 3 as "beautiful beach strangers."
He'd be flattered to hear from an MC that they love his laugh/find it charming.
He says "hallelujah" because he's pretentious.
He doesn't know French, but does occasionally drop a French word he knows during Step 3 to "add to his formal flair." His Step 4 self considers it embarrassing in hindsight.
While he started dyeing his hair black at 14, he didn't start adding white into the mix until he was 18. His Step 3 hair was likely something he only had for a year, at which point he changed it up with different attempts at black and white. He switched back to plain black after graduating college, feeling like he had to be "a serious grown up."
During the wedding in Baxter's Step 4, he will have Jude send along a vegan cupcake to the MC if they're vegan.
Semi-revealed during one of his mornings with the MC in Step 4, he has a multi-step daily skincare routine.
His Future
He has no preference over who he'd prefer to be the one to propose to the other in his relationship with the MC.
He would absolutely want to plan his own wedding (whether for or with the MC, depending on whether they want to be involved). He would not want another planner included.
He would forbid his parents from attending his wedding, but invite his childhood friends. Cove, Terry, and Miranda would also go.
He doesn't have a preference when it comes to last names during a wedding. He's just in awe that he's marrying someone at all.
He might consider having facial hair at some point in his life.
When it comes to having kids, he doesn't have any particular age he'd prefer to have them and is more of a "when it feels right" kind of guy. In terms of the number of kids, none is his default but he'd prefer to have two if the MC wants them, as he finds the relationship between the MC and Liz to be lovely and was personally lonely as an only child.
đ (below are asks that might be considered risquĂ© - especially going to the posts themselves on some - but I wanted to include them for the sake of having all the information in one place; know that me and my prudish nature pushed through this for the people who want it and I hope you appreciate it! >:o) đ
This one definitely goes without saying due to being a love interest in a game where the MC can be she/they/he even down to being intersex, but Baxter is pansexual.
Baxter isn't good at being sexually active beyond being with an MC who wants that. He tries to bond with others but either fails to have his interest reciprocated due to being too forward or backtracks if he senses that someone is actually into him. His relationships are short/inconsistent for that reason.
He would never sleep with the MC during Step 3. He's already planning on leaving and wouldn't risk souring the relationship at any point even if the MC would want it. He wants company more than he wants sex and would not want to be remembered as the guy who slept with the MC and then just left without contacting them again.
Between chests and backsides, Baxter prefers the latter.
Baxter is a top (though is flexible on the matter), is into BDSM, and "kind of" has a sir kink.
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can't tell if requests are open, but can you do sdv bachelors reactions to female farmer with a GYATT đŒđȘđœ
Summary: Bachelors reacting to a farmer with a crazy shelf. Warning(s): Crack, Fluff, Some 18+ NSFW + Suggestiveness. Side note(s): My req(s) are always open ngl. I just take forever to get to stuff tbh đ
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
°ââ.àłàż*:°ââ.àłàż*:°ââ.àłàż*:°ââ.àłàż*:°ââ.àł
Elliot
[Pre-Relationship]
Ngl, he really wouldn't know what to do with himself. Especially when he first meets you.
I'm more than certain he'll be respectful and won't make it super obvious that he's looking but I wanna reference that one scene from Smiling Friends where Pim is struggling not to look at this one guy while a mosquito is sucking on his eye.
You wanna look (it's fucking killing you to keep your eyes down) but god, it would feel so good to just look for more than a few seconds.
And don't get me started if he accidentally brushes up against it while you two are close next to each other (say like- a busy tavern).
He's jerking off the second he gets home.
[Established Relationship]
When you two are dating, however, Elliot will still be respectful but he'll allow himself to touch you more often (as well as look).
But I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that he won't be extremely blatant in regards to your ass but will more so show it.
Wearing dress? All of a sudden he's behind you and admiring your figure by placing a hand just above your butt, even going so far as to rub small circles into your back as a sign that he could and wants to go lower (you have to repeatedly tell him its okay to touch you more intimately).
If you're wearing shorts? I think he's definitely had more than a few moments where he's spat out his tea (or nearly choked on something) when you suddenly bend down in front of him to pick something up.
He also had some moments where he's taken you at random just because his hard-on is too much to bear from seeing you walk around all day being thick with no consequences.
All in all though?
Definitely an ass man <3
Sebastian
[Pre-Relationship]
To start this off, I will literally fight anyone when I say- Sebastion is a boob man and no one can change my mind.
With that being said-
Just because the man has preferences doesn't mean he's going to sit and deny you have junk in the trunk.
So I like to think that before you guys are dating, he sees the crazy shelf but he's not going wild and rocking a hard-on just from spotting it once.
It's more of a- "Damn, farmer's got that ass" and he moves on.
Ngl, he will think about how it feels from time to time though
[Established Relationship]
Now, once you two start dating. It's an entirely different ballgame after that.
He's touching your ass any chance he gets.
When you two fuck? All of a sudden he prefers positions where your ass is the center of attention.
When munch mode is activated. He'll gladly eat it from the back.
But I think his favorite part of you having a crazy shelf? It would probably be when you two are cuddling tbh.
It's super soft to the touch and kinda like a stress ball so when you two are relaxing together, he kinda just...squeezes it. It would happen so often that where you don't really pay attention to it anymore.
If you're sitting on his lap while he's working on his computer or playing video games, he's going to grab it.
If you're laying on top of him in his bed, guess what?
You guessed it, he's grabbing it.
Sam
[Pre-Relationship]
If you've followed my blog for a little bit. You probably already know how this is going to go with Sam-
Perv Mode is online
When he sees you for the first time, and you turn around. Sam's eyes would nearly bulge out of his head.
But similarly to Elliot, he'll be respectful in the sense that he doesn't want to creep you out or make him think that he's some type of pervert.
However, once he gets home that night?
Definitely jerking it, maybe even watching a couple videos on his phone with a girl that looks suspiciously like you.
But on the flip side, each time he sees you or you decide to visit his house with a gift for him. He'll blush like a sinner in church each and every time.
[Established Relationship]
He becomes touchy to the max.
Like I'm talking that his hand is on your body (mostly your ass) ninety percent of the time.
However, hear me out on this one, I don't think he'd really care about the sex part per se? (Not that I'm saying he doesn't like positions where he can see it jiggle at maximum efficiency)
Sam would be more of a fan of the clothing, to be honest.
Tight dresses, shorts that just barely cover the underside of your butt etc.
Those are what really get him off 'cause it's teasing for him. The anticipation of being able to feel all up on you as soon as you're finished with your errands from the day and you're back inside your shared farmhouse.
Side headcanon though; I'm a firm believer that Sam would be a huge fan of you teasing him by rubbing your ass over his crotch over his clothes. Just saying.
Alex
[Pre-Relationship]
Okay so Alex is yet another guy that I think is a boob man but, ass is ass and he's not going to deny you've got that gyatt.
But I do also believe that he make it more obvious where his eyes are going when you're around him?
Like if you're talking to someone in a crowd and he's around, he's not going to hide that his eyes are landing on your butt.
And if you're close by his side, his hand will practically be twitching for a teensy feel.
Ultimately though, he'll keep his hands to himself.
[Established Relationship]
King of Backshots.
I know I just said he's a certified boob man but once again, he's not going to lie that you have a fattie.
So with that being said, his preferred positions? They're in a wide variety (when he's not preferring a mating press so he has a good view of your boobs ofc)
Doggy, Reverse Cowgirl, Prone-boning. If your ass is the center of attention then he's going it.
Also I headcanon that if he was on a professional Gritball team then he would definitely brag to his teammates about his partner who has a fat ass.
Low-key I think he'd be open to sharing you ngl. But he's the only one who gets to cum inside you.
Harvey
[Pre-Relationship]
The most respectful man on this list.
If you have a crazy shelf of an ass then ofc he'll see it but he won't see it.
He'll keep his eyes up and to your face the entire time.
Hell, I don't think he'll even dare to let his eyes wander a little out of respect for a potential patient.
That being said, once he's off the clock. He'll probably have flashbacks to you here and there.
[Established Relationship]
Even when he's got you locked in, he's still respectful.
Similar to Sebastion though, I think him being touchy with your butt is going to mostly be reserved for cuddling sessions and when y'all are having sex.
But hear me out on this one in regards to that, while I do believe he'll be a fan of positions where he sees it jiggle.
I think he's more of a fan of positions where he can more so feel it closer to him. Say like spooning sex and other positions that require you to be really close to him.
Then again, Harvey strikes me as that one meme of "My favorite position is seeing you happy" so there's that <33.
Shane
[Pre-Relationship]
I think this man nearly spits out his drink when he first spots you.
Like- no shame to my SDV men/women (except my queen Haley, she'll always be thicc as hell in my head) but I don't think many of them would appeal to Shane aside from Emily??
So when the farmer rolls into the valley, thick as hell. I think Shane develops a low-key crush the second he sees you.
But here's the thing, he wouldn't think of you inappropriately cause he's thinking "Oh, they'd never be into me. There are more appealing people here than me."
So any temptations he has to masturbate to the thought of you? They're quickly snuffed out by those thoughts.
However, that doesn't mean those urges don't pop up frequently every time you decide to visit him in shorts that hug tightly around your thighs.
Or when you wear a sundress that makes him do a cartoon gulp.
Little did he know you were wearing those on purpose.
[Established Relationship]
When you two start dating? Oh boy, prepare yourself.
It's like a volcano erupting basically. Everything he's held himself back from doing, everything he's wanted to do to/with you?
He's trying to do it all immediately to make up for lost time.
From plowing you against the back of your farmhouse, the slaps of your ass against his pelvis sounding wayyyy better in reality than what they did when the thought would flash through his head.
Or maybe even fucking you into the bedsheets!
The world is his oyster now <3.
And he's just glad that he has his fat-assed lover by his side to do everything with now.
#stardew valley#stardew farmer#smut#sdv elliott#sdv sebastian#sdv#sdv harvey#sdv sam#sdv alex#stardew alex#stardew elliott#stardew sebastian#stardew sam#stardew harvey#sdv farmer#stardew#sdv fandom#sdv fanfic#stardew fanfic#stardew fandom#sdv shane#stardew shane
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Biblical References in Both RDR games.
I love biblical references so much. When it comes to literature, it's probably my favorite type of symbolism. Like I genuinely get so happy when I connect things to the Bible which is what I'm going to do right now đđ I also like the way that religion is incorporated into RDR as a whole, including the main characters' reaction to it.
So yup, here are just a few references or connections that I was able to make in no particular order.
Also, some of these are complete reaches and I'm aware of that, but fuck it, it's my blog and I do what I want đȘđŒ
- The character and tragedy of Issac. In the Bible, Issac is the child of Abraham who is asked to be sacrificed by God by his father as a test of faith. God eventually intervenes to save Issac because he only wanted to test Abraham's faith. Dutch is shown as a God-like figure to the gang, as their devotion is to him. Arthur, indirectly, sacrifices Issac by not being there and by following what Dutch wanted. Arthur, Issac, and Dutch are parallels to Abraham, Issac, and God.
- Leviticus is the book that comes after the book of Exodus. After the gang's escape or exodus from Blackwater after the Blackwater massacre, they are met by Leviticus Cornwall, who becomes the next obstacle for the gang. After the gang's exodus, they get in trouble with Leviticus.
- The image of the deer and a mountain. Psalm 18:32-34 in the Bible says, "It is God who arms me with strength, and makes my way blameless? He makes my feet like deers' feet, and sets me upon my high places." In Arthur's condemnation of Dutch, Micah, and their evil, he becomes steady in his identity and beliefs, like a deer's feet on a mountain, which is where he dies in the end. W symbolism.
- The mission "Sodom? Back to Gomorrah." In the Bible, Sodom and Gomorrah were two cities that were so morally depraved and evil that God decided to destroy the both of them, saying that if there was even one good person in those cities, he'd spare them, but there weren't. In those missions, you also do two evil acts, going from one and then BACK to the other. You rob the bank and then go BACK to collect the debt from Edith Downes. So you finish one evil deed and to straight to the next. This can also show how morally bankrupt Arthur's apathy made him at this point in the game.
- Micah's guns say "Vengeance is hereby mine." This could be a reference to Roman's 12:19 "vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord." Micah's violent nature makes him take his anger out on the world.
- "Your father is seduced by him with the forked tongue. It's no use hoping." The blind prophet to Arthur. Pretty straight forward symbolism, it's a nod to the snake that seduced Eve, just like how Micah manipulates Dutch.
- Dutch walking away from Arthur when he dies and though he realizes his wrong doing and feels shame, his pride forbids him from apologizing or saying he was wrong. This can be a parallel to how Adam and Eve run away from God when they feel shame over believing in the snake, but their pride won't allow them to apologize to God, hence damning them like how Micah damned Dutch.
- There were twelve ACTIVE gang members before the Blackwater massacre. When I mean active, I mean gang members who are canonically consistent (so not uncle, Swanson, Strauss, or the girls) on going on jobs for the gang. Micah, Bill, Javier, John, Hosea, Arthur, Charles, Sean, Lenny, Josiah, Mac and Davey Callender. Christ had 12 disciples and Dutch is portrayed as a savior to the gang, or a Christ like figure. And would you look at that, there is a traitor in both groups of twelve (Micah and Judas).
- Both John and Arthur's graves have scripture from Jesus's sermon on the mountain (Matthew 5:1-12). John's is blessed are the peacemakers and Arthur's is blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.
- The go back for the money ending. If you go back for the money and have low honor, you'll see that the camp is engulfed in flames as you try to get the money. The fight with Micah is brutal and you die faced down in the dark. This death is an allegory for going to either hell and purgatory as you choose a final evil act of leaving your brother to possibly die just so you can get money as an act of revenge. If you have high honor, you are still surrounded by flames, but you still have a chance at heaven given that you die facing up seeing the light one final time.
- The help John ending has similar connotations. If you have low honor, you die by gunshot and are shrouded in darkness, which can symbolize the absence of God's light and how Arthur's final act couldn't absolve the lack of guilt he feels for the rest of the actions that he KNOWS are evil (click here for a my interpretation of Arthur's morality). In high honor, though, you get to crawl to the mountain side and see the rising sun, symbolizing heaven, warmth, and a new purity.
- In low honor, the coyote goes down to a dark cave, representing damnation and the rejection of holy light. In high honor, the deer steps into a heavenly field of light. Love that so much to be honest.
- Just the very Catholic vibe of Arthur's redemption. Doing good deeds, feeling guilt, all that.
- John's new life is basically this: "Let him who stole steal no longer, but rather let him labor, working with his hands what is good, that he may have something to give him who has need."Â -Ephesians 4:28. John gives up his old life to be an honest laborer, a rancher, and a proper man.
- The Strange Man in RDR rides on a donkey, which is pretty interesting because Jesus Christ also made his grand entry on a donkey.
- Just the Strange Man in general to be honest. Some say he's God, others say he's the Devil, and others say he's Cain from the Bible, which is my personal favorite theory but whatever.
- Dutch's horse could be a reference to Revelations 6:8- "And I looked, and behold, a pale horse! And its rider's name was Death, and Hades followed him." Dutch's rash actions caused the death of the gang and RDR's incarnate of Hades or Hell was Micah, following him. Dutch is the only one, canonically, to have a pale horse.
- "Am I prepared for eternal damnation? Am I passed any kind of saving? Or is that just fairy tales?" Arthur in his journal. I love this line so much because of its very agnostic nature whilst still showing the Christian mindset of 1899 America. This line also shows that Arthur is canonically agnostic which is a yippee from me because it's like the only thing me and this man have in common lmao đ
- "Bad news awaits you, sir. Sadly, sooner than you think. But beyond the news, paradise awaits. Paradise.." Blind Man Cassidy to Arthur. Sorry but I just love that. High honor Arthur lived such an awful life but he still has a chance at paradise and heaven? Love that so much.
- God (pun intended), I love biblical symbolism. Couldn't you tell?
#even if you aren't religious#so like me#I'd still recommend reading the bible at least once if you're a fan of western story telling#biblical references are literally EVERYWHERE#and getting them makes me feel like an english professer#and that's a pretty dope feeling#will also recommend reading a more queer affirming version of the bible if you're queer like me#anyways#fucking love biblical symbolism#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#character analysis#bible verse#bible scripture#biblical references#story analysis#christianity
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