#or is this another case of nepotism? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stllmnstr · 11 months ago

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champagne problems: part one

pairing: jake sim x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, rich kids au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff

part one word count: 15.6k

part one warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, family drama, a fatal case of second son syndrome

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

note: another reupload!! hope this hopeless romantic college boyfriend jake hits just as good the second time around. happy reading ♡

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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, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.

There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.

The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.

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Fingers wrapping around the stem of your wine glass, you sigh. Punctuality may have been a steep order for someone who you suspect is running dangerously low on both common sense and regard for others, but twenty minutes? Really?

Your eyes land on the obnoxiously ornate grandfather clock next to the hostess stand. In a restaurant with ceilings so high you can barely see them and a carefully curated ambience that practically screams old money, it blends right in. It also gives you an updated timeframe on your would-be date’s tardiness.

Scratch that – thirty minutes.

Pulling out your phone, the absence of any new notifications is almost as annoying as whatever threadbare excuse you’re sure your date will offer you when he arrives. Glancing at the door, it remains devoid of any new patrons. Or perhaps rather if he arrives.

You’re running near empty on both pinot noir and patience, and you use the distraction of your phone to make you seem a little less pathetic. As if this entire restaurant isn’t already privy to the fact that you’re actively being stood up.

Well, you think wryly, at least you look good doing it. The off white ensemble you selected for the evening is Chanel, and vintage, at that. Usually you wouldn’t pull out all the stops like this for something as flimsy as a first date, but men like James Sim have an eye for this kind of thing.

Four years your senior, he’s already carving out a name for himself at twenty-five. You suppose it is a little less impressive, though, when the name he was born with already carries a legacy of its own in the business world you usually do your very best to stay out of. Rumor has it he’s already a shoo-in for the next CEO of his father’s company. When nepotism is that blatant, you can’t do much but scoff and raise a glass to it.

Scrambling for something to do to make your wasted time pass a bit quicker, you search up the social media profile of your would-be date. Honestly, you doubt you would learn anything more substantial about him if he actually bothered to show up than you will from scanning over his feed. In your experience, men like that tend to make up for their success on paper by lacking an actual personality and any sort of self-awareness.

Gym selfie. Scroll. Gym selfie from a slightly different angle. Scroll. Dog photo. Pausing, you suppress a small smile. The dog in the picture is pretty cute, if nothing else. Zooming in slightly, your eyes crinkle at the way the dog’s tongue lolls out of its open mouth in a grin. Well, at least he’s got that going for him, you suppose. A cute dog is enough to bump any guy’s ranking up a few points in your book.

If James Sim is nothing but a sum of his social media profile, it’s not like you expected anything else. After all, this is the heir to the Sim Corporation, a golden boy that was born with a crown on his head and a gold spoon in his mouth. Everything he’s earned has been laid out for him in painstakingly placed steps. His entire life has been guided by a heavy hand and the knowledge that he would one day inherit everything that makes his family worth knowing.

You probably wouldn’t be too concerned with showing up to first dates on time, either. Especially since you doubt he’s ever been denied a second.

Tonight is nothing but a blip on a radar, you’re sure. Something for a secretary to schedule and him to notice a day or five late. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone on his team will send a consolatory bouquet once he does realize the mistake. He is still building his reputation, after all, and you could use a fresh set of flowers for your apartment.

With another slightly pitiful sigh and a final swig of wine, your glass is empty and your optimism is shot. A second glance at the clock says that thirty-eight minutes have now elapsed since your scheduled meeting time. And in your opinion, that’s thirty-nine too late for a first date.

Retrieving your coat from the back of your chair, you figure tonight will be remembered as nothing but a waste of a good outfit. Besides, you suppose forty minutes of aimless scrolling is ultimately less painful than the inevitable headache this date surely would have been had he bothered to actually show up.

Suddenly, you frown. You won’t complain if this date never actually happens, but you may end up with a slight problem. Although you haven’t been on the best of terms with your mother in a long time, tonight was meant to be the final bullet point on a list of favors you owe her.

As you pull your coat on, you consider the best way to frame the events of the evening. Lean into the whole ‘getting stood up’ thing in an effort to earn some sympathy points? Lay out the facts in their most basic form, timestamps included? Emphasize the fact that you waited long past the obligatory twenty minutes for him to actually show up? Or leave your message chain as it currently is, tell her nothing at all, and let her assume what she wants?

They’re all equally iffy, you think. Risky in their own regard.

Signing your name at the bottom of the check, you scribble in a generous tip for the waitress who did her best to check on you often without making it obvious that she knew you were expecting company that never arrived, expertly skirting that line between overbearing and empathetic. At least someone will go home happy, you think, adding an extra zero for good measure.

Exiting the restaurant, you decide to make it two people. James Sim may be a hotshot at his father’s company, but you’ll be damned before you let him ruin your evening. Before you order the Uber back to your place, you add an extra stop at your favorite sushi place. Takeout in the comfort of your own home will certainly be easier to enjoy than whatever Michelin-Star concoction you would have ordered here anyway, eaten in small bites between forced conversation topics, awkward pauses, and too long sips of wine.

And an hour later, you’re polishing off the last piece of an absolutely divine rainbow roll, wearing nothing but silk pajamas and a face mask, with old reruns of your favorite show playing on the TV when James Sim finally glances down at the Rolex on his wrist. He’s finally arrived at the tail end of a meeting that’s running so far behind schedule he has half a mind to just walk out of it. He would, too, if his father wouldn’t actually threaten his life for it.

It’s late, James realizes. Stupid late. So late that he won’t have the time or energy to do anything but pass out by the time he gets home, which really sucks, because he was genuinely looking forward to his date tonight–

“Fuck.”

All he can do is curse, even as the shocked faces of a concerning number of top executives turn to look at him all at the same time.

…

Jake Sim is about to fail his econ midterm.

It will be at least a week before grades are released, but he already knows it. He can already feel it in the way the questions start to swim in his mind, making less and less sense the more he turns them over, in the way his gut fills with dread as the minute hand of the clock at the front of the lecture hall ticks closer and closer to the testing time limit.

And it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t his second time repeating this course.

Oh, his father is going to have an absolute field day with this one. Jake can practically hear it now.

��You failed your midterm? After already failing this course twice? You know, James was actually the top scoring student in his economic section. Dr. Jeong still mentions his term paper every time I see him at the university…”

And that’s if he’s in a good mood. Or rather, if things at the company are going well. Jake doesn’t even want to consider the comments he’ll be on the receiving end of if the news of his failure finds his father already agitated.

Exhaling, he gives his exam one final once-over, scanning for completion more than accuracy. His brain is so fried that he knows it’s of little use to him now. For his own sake, the best thing to do at this point is turn his test in and send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening on his way out the door.

Leaving the lecture hall behind him, Jake puts his phone out of airplane mode and frowns at the two notifications that pop up on his screen. The first is a missed call from his brother, and the second is a message from the same sender, requesting that he give him a call when he has the chance.

Considering that it’s neither his birthday nor a major holiday, Jake is more than a little confused. Regardless, he honors the request, pressing his phone to his ear as he begins the walk back to his apartment. Although it’s significantly less spacious than his childhood home, he finds it far more welcoming in more ways than one.

The outgoing call rings once, twice, three times. Jake is about to be annoyed at the missed connection, but his brother answers in the moments just before he’s sent to voicemail.

“Hey, Jake.” Shocking. He actually bothered to check the caller ID.

“Hey.” Jake’s voice is careful, guarded. It’s not like his personal life is of any importance to his older brother, but he’s not in the mood to answer any questions. He won’t give James any reasons to ask. “I saw your message.”

“Right.” Jake can hear the shuffle of other voices, scattered movements coming from the other line. James sounds busy. Just like always. Usually, that would usually mean he’s distracted. But Jake has the odd feeling that he has his brother’s undivided attention when James adds, “I have a favor to ask you.”

Immediately, Jake’s stomach drops. There are very few things in this world that are not within James Sim’s grasp, and even less that are within Jake’s, relatively speaking. Whatever it is, he must be desperate, if he’s willing to enlist the help of his little brother.

“Okay.” Jake’s voice betrays none of his sudden anxieties. “What is it?”

At least James spares him the agony of suspense. “You know ___, right?”

Jake frowns. Sure, he knows of you. Just like he has a vague idea of every one of his family’s business partners and their immediate kin. Particularly the ones that are the same age as him and attend the same university. But it’s not like he’s close with you, not like he’s ever had an actual conversation of any substance with you.

Especially since the minimal interactions the two of you have had did not leave Jake wanting more. The only child of parents whose last name is on the front of the most successful law firm within a thousand mile radius, you strike him as everything he’d expect you to be.

Spoiled. Entitled. Vapid. Out of touch with any version of reality that doesn’t consist of you getting everything you want at the exact moment you want it. He supposes it’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own upbringing, but he’d like to think that he’s earned what he’s been given, at least partially. Especially since most of it has been his brother’s hand-me-downs. And it’s not like his father has ever been in the habit of doing him any favors that don’t come wrapped in criticism, comparison, and disdain.

Although rumor does have it you and your mother haven’t been on speaking terms since you left for university, Jake imagines it’s probably because you wanted to bring the limited edition Versace to campus with you, and she insisted it would be safer at home.

Oh, well. Whatever designer dispute happened between you and your mother is no skin off his back. Jake has his own problems to worry about.

One of them being his brother’s question that still lingers on the other line.

Weighing responses in his head, Jake finally settles on, “I guess.” It’s his best attempt at being noncommittal.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything to dissuade his brother. “Do you have her number by chance? My secretary should have taken it down, but she can’t find it anywhere.”

Jake balks, footsteps faltering. An equally distracted student walking behind him nearly stumbles right into his back. Wordlessly, Jake sends them an apologetic look before clarifying, “Her number? Like, her personal phone number?”

“What other kind of number is there?” And there’s the James that Jake knows. Annoyed at the perceived incompetencies of his younger brother, just as always.

Suddenly, Jake’s patience is running short too. James is the one asking for a favor and still has the gall to be annoyed with him. Typical. Jake’s words are clipped when he says, “No, I don’t have ___’s phone number.”

Jake expects that to be the end of it, but his brother won’t let it go so easily.

��Seriously? Don’t you two go to the same school?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Right, because I have the entire student body on speed dial.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Jake half expects his brother to just hang up on him. After all, he’s never been able to take what he gets, to swallow what he dishes out.

What Jake does not expect, however, is the way James sounds so tentative when he speaks again. “Well…”

“Well what?” Patience already running thin, it’s all he can do not to snap.

“Do you think you could get it for me?”

Jake must be dreaming. This must be a post-exam punishment, a hallucination brought on by over exerting his brain too far for too long. “Do I think I could get ___’s phone number for you?” he repeats flatly.

“Is there an echo in here?” Asshole. At least he’s consistent.

“Just an echo chamber,” Jake mutters away from the receiver.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jake stops for a moment to fiddle with his keyring as he walks up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I can’t get her phone number for you.”

“Why not?”

The key won’t line up quite right. Jake tries again, frustration seeping through. “Because I have better things to do than run stupid errands for you. Why don’t you drive here and get it yourself?”

“Trust me, if I thought she’d give it to me, I’d be there in an hour.”

The lock on his door finally clicks open, and Jake all but throws his bag down after kicking off his shoes. “And what the hell makes you think she’d give it to me?”

“Well, you didn’t accidentally stand her up, for one.” James doesn’t sound embarrassed by it. Just matter-of-fact. Like a date is nothing but a business deal. Something to be rescheduled and redone if negotiations go sour the first time around.

It is enough to stir up some of Jake’s curiosity, though. “You went on a date with ___?” He supposes it makes sense. Even if the rumor mill and its rumblings about your rocky relationship with your mother ring true, you’re still your parents’ daughter. Still a perfect match on paper for the future CEO of the Sim Corporation. The king of a company and princess of a law firm. It’s a match made in heaven, he thinks ruefully.

“No, I didn’t. That’s kind of the whole point here.”

“Whatever.” Jake still doesn’t see what the hell he has to do with all this. “Why don’t you just look up her parents’ number in the company database and get it from them?”

Jake can practically feel his brother’s exasperation through the phone. “Right, because that would go over really well. Hi there," he imitates. “I’d like to make your daughter the mother of my future children. Care to pass along her phone number so I can get started on that?”

Jake suppresses a wince. “Jesus. I see why she stood you up.”

“She didn’t. I stood her up,” James clarifies. “On accident.”

Semantics. And not ones that Jake is interested in. “Either way. I’m not getting her number for you.”

“Yeah?” Jake is unsettled by the way there’s still no trace of defeat in his brother’s voice. There’s something almost sinister when he suddenly switches topics. “How are classes going?”

Jake’s lips pull into a taut line, disaster of an econ midterm still fresh on his mind. “Fine.”

“Really? Even econ? Third time’s the charm and all that?” Well, at least his brother can be counted on to consistently be an asshole.

“Why do you care?” The only thing Jake wants to do is end this call and crawl into bed for a well-deserved afternoon nap. Let his subconscious spare him from thoughts of his older brother and econ and you for at least a little bit.

James has other plans. “You must have taken the midterm recently, right?” Jake’s silence is confirmation enough. “You know, the only thing Dr. Jeong weighs more heavily than the midterm is the final paper at the end of the semester.”

A minute ago, Jake thought you were the last thing he wanted to talk about. The sudden shift in direction in this conversation is starting to prove him wrong. If there’s one thing Jake would rather discuss even less than his older brother’s dating life, it’s school. “What does that have to do with a–”

“And I think I still have my copy of the paper that earned me the top score in my entire section.” The smugness is practically palpable. “I might have to do some digging, but I’m sure it’s in my old files somewhere.”

Jake rolls his eyes, wishes the immediate comparison weren’t the first thing to rise to the forefront of his mind. Wishes it didn’t find him so lacking. Wishes it wasn’t narrated in the voice of his disappointed father. “If you’re trying to gloat, it’s n–”

“I’m trying to strike a deal. Jesus, no wonder you’re on track to be a super senior getting a business degree.”

“This is my third year,” Jake defends indignantly.

“And your third attempt at econ, which I passed in my first year.” He sounds like he’s settling a little too well into the CEO role when he proposes, “I’m trying to make it your last attempt.”

Jake would be lying if he said his curiosity weren’t piqued, even just slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, little brother, that my term paper, my notes, all of it, are yours.” It sounds too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true. James is a lot of things, but generous and helpful are very rarely any of them. “As soon as you get me ___’s number.” And there it is.

Jake hangs up without bothering to dignify that with a response and hopes it sends a strong enough signal of his refusal. Then, he falls into his bed face-first with a groan.

And a week later, when his econ midterm results are finally posted, the first thing Jake does is let his head fall on his desk with an alarmingly loud thud that has Jay poking his head in the door to make sure everything’s okay. The second thing he does, a solid twenty minutes later, is send his older brother a text.

Jake [7:21pm]: You better start digging through those old files.

…

All things considered, you’re easier to track down than Jake expects. The university campus is big, and judging from the way he can’t remember ever seeing you in a class, the two of you don’t share a major. But the similarities in your social status mean you’re bound to run in some of the same circles, and Jake is able to use this to his advantage.

Ultimately, it takes very little digging on his part. First, he mentions your name to Jay in the middle of an upper body superset in the university gym. Jay frowns, setting the weights back on the rack.

“That name sounds familiar. I think maybe Heeseung knows her?”

That tidbit takes him to Wednesday night, which always finds Jake in the library at a statistics study group Heeseung also makes a habit of attending. On their way out for the evening, Jake stops him by the door.

“___?” Heeseung pauses for a moment in contemplation. “I’m pretty sure she’s friends with Sunghoon.”

And the third piece of the puzzle proves a bit more difficult to click into place. Sunghoon is harder for Jake to find, at least in a way that comes across naturally. Much like yours, Park Sunghoon is a name Jake hears in passing more than anything. He’s a friend of friends, a mutual acquaintance that Jake has never really had a conversation with and certainly doesn’t know well enough to interrogate for your phone number.

But his most recent midterm score is still looming over his head, and the thought of retaking econ again is so nightmarish it sends a shiver down his spine every time he considers it. At this point, there isn’t much Jake wouldn’t put on the line to pass the damn class. Including his pride, apparently.

So when Jake hears from Jay who hears from Heeseung that Sunghoon will probably be at the party Epsilon Nu Eta is throwing this Friday night, he starts to formulate a plan.

And he starts to regret said plan less than twenty-four hours later when he finds himself on the doorstep of a frat party. A frat party. He can’t remember the last time he came to one of these things. At twenty-one, he already feels geriatric as he tugs self-consciously at the sleeves of the plan black long sleeve he put on for the occasion. Something that will hopefully hide the questionable stains he’ll inevitably leave with.

Entering through the front door with hinges that don’t align quite right, Jake has one mission in mind: find Park Sunghoon. Find him and somehow convince him to pass along your number. There’s a fine line to be walked there, Jake thinks. If he comes across as too eager, it will just be creepy. Nonchalance is the name of the game, but he’s never been good at keeping his cards close to his chest.

For Jake, it’s a tall order, which means the only detour he’ll allow himself is grabbing a cup of lukewarm beer from the kitchen before he sets out looking for Sunghoon. The alcohol is an effort to break the barrier of his inhibitions more than anything. To make what he’s about to do feel a little less painful.

Making his way out of the kitchen, Jake wanders aimlessly for a few minutes. He doesn’t know much about Sunghoon, other than the fact that he competes for your university’s figure skating team and is undeniably handsome. A good-looking figure skater, Jake thinks as he turns down yet another crowded hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink. Where would one of those be hiding?

He spends a few more awkward minutes asking around to no avail. Just when he’s on the verge of saying fuck it and making some sort of sacrifice to the econ gods instead, Jake bumps into the man of the hour on his way to the bathroom.

In the chaos, Jake doesn’t recognize him until it’s almost too late. “Hey,” Jake calls out, bladder all but forgotten for now. He’s trying to fake an air of coolness when he adds, “Sunghoon, right?”

“Yeah.” Jake thanks his lucky stars that Sunghoon must be at least two drinks in, because he doesn’t seem weirded out at all by the sudden question from a near stranger.

“I’m Jake.” He reaches his arm out for a handshake. Blinking, Sunghoon just stares at his outstretched hand as long, awkward moments bleed into each other. Eventually, Jake just lets it fall back to his side. “I’m, uh, in a statistics class with Heeseung.”

“Right on,” Sunghoon nods, still unsure if this conversation has a point to it. Luckily, the pleasant haze clouding his thoughts means he doesn’t mind too much either way.

Jake figures there’s no point in dragging this out by exchanging more pleasantries, and he has the feeling Sunghoon might start forgetting his own name, much less yours, if he lets this continue for too long.

“Listen,” Jake starts, trying to sound as not creepy as possible. “I heard that you know ___ pretty well.”

Sunghoon just shrugs. Jake can’t tell if he’s succeeded. “You could say that.”

“I know this is a strange request, but, uh,” Jake scratches the side of his head, “is there any chance I could get her number? I promise not to do anything weird.” Word vomiting, the extra details are spilling out before he can stop them. “It’s not even for me, actually–”

Sunghoon spares him the rest of a rambling explanation. “Sorry, bud. No can do.”

Jake’s stomach tightens in panic. He really, really just needs your phone number. It has him forgetting his earlier inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind even if he’s making a bit of a fool of himself in the process. “It’s for something important, actually. I’m kind of desperate–”

Sunghoon just puts a consolatory hand on Jake’s shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. “Look, man, it’s nothing against you personally, but I have literally never met you in my life. Besides, if I gave out ___’s number to every random guy that asked, I’m pretty sure she’d shave my head.” Sunghoon leans in close, like he’s about to share a secret. Jake’s nose twists at the scent of alcohol on his breath. “And between you and me, I don’t think I could pull off being bald.”

Jake kind of begs to differ, but that’s neither here nor there. He opens his mouth to plead his case again, but Sunghoon doesn’t even let him get a word out.

“Sorry, man, but I really can’t help you.” Pausing for a moment, he considers. “You said your name was Jacob, though, right?” He doesn’t pause long enough for Jake to correct him. “I could ask her if she’s cool with giving you her number–”

“Whose number are you giving out?” And if Jake thought this conversation wasn’t enough of a train wreck already, trust the timing of your entrance to be more disastrous than divine.

Eyes turning to you and your sudden intrusion on the conversation, Jake’s mind goes blank for a minute. And yeah, he kinda gets why his brother’s so hellbent on having a second chance at your time. Dressed in all black, your hair is loose around your face. Even though it likely costs more than most people’s monthly paycheck, there’s nothing inherently special about what you’re wearing. Still, Jake is finding it exceedingly difficult to look away.

It’s something in your aura, he thinks. In the way you carry yourself. Something that money can’t buy. Something that makes his gaze want to linger.

“___!” Sunghoon grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, wobbling slightly. You jostle at the sudden impact, inching away from where the contents of his cup slosh dangerously close to the rim. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

Your brow creases in confusion. Jake tracks the miniscule movement with parted lips.

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon confirms, just at the same moment Jake shakes his head, “No.”

Turning your mildly concerned gaze away from your friend, you glance at Jake for the first time. Brow furrowing further, you cock your head to the side as your lips part in partial recognition. He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place him. “Do I know you?”

“No.” Jake shakes his head again, a little too fervently. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. At least not properly.”

It’s an odd way of putting it. You’re about to ask him to clarify when Sunghoon cuts in, clearing up the confusion for you. “It’s Jacob,” he says, as if that should mean anything to you. Turning back to the boy across from him, he adds, “Jacob Sim, right?”

And that clicks things into place.

“Sim?” you echo, realization dawning on your features.

“Yep,” Sunghoon confirms.

Across from you, Jake says nothing. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. In fact, he’s pretty sure his life is flashing before his eyes.

“Sim,” you repeat one final time, jaw ticking in agitation as everything starts to settle. “I do know you.”

“Oh, really?” Sunghoon asks at your side, oblivious to the way your tone betrays obvious animosity. A distaste so palpable Jake can practically feel it radiating off of you. Turning back to Jake, he’s apologetic. “Sorry, Jacob. I guess I could have given you her number, then.” Sunghoon smiles sheepishly, as if he hasn’t just made things a million times worse. “My bad.”

Jake’s eyes widen in horror as he scrambles for some sort of defense, an explanation that will dig him out of this rapidly deepening hole, but you beat him to it.

“My number?” The look you give him has a concerning amount of venom in it. “Seriously? God, why are all you Sim men so obsessed with me?”

“That’s not–”

“First your brother views my LinkedIn profile twenty-three times after standing me up, and now you’re harassing my friends for my phone number?”

“Hold on. I’m not harassing anyone–”

“No,” Sunghoon agrees, nodding diplomatically. “Jacob was perfectly pleasant–”

“It’s Jake, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, just Jake.”

“Sorry,” Sunghoon apologizes. Turning to you, he tries mediating again. “Well, like I said, just Jake was perfectly pleasant–”

“I don’t care how pleasant he is.” Your glare somehow becomes icier. “Leave me alone, and tell your dickhead brother to do the same.” Muttering to yourself more than anything, you add, “The last thing I need right now is you practically stalking me–”

“Stalking you?” Jake flounders, an edge of annoyance creeping into his tone. He’s not surprised to learn that you really do think the world revolves around you, but really? Stalking? “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I’m enjoying this interaction any more than you are.”

You don’t back down, crossing your arms over your chest. The movement has Sunghoon teetering dangerously where he leans on you, but you pay him no mind, attention focused solely on the man in front of you. “Then why do you want my phone number so bad?”

“Like I was trying to say earlier when you wouldn’t let me get a word out sideways,” Jake bites, “it’s not for me. I made a deal with someone, and I told them I’d give them your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “Who?”

“What?”

“Who did you make a deal with?”

Jake hesitates, knowing how the truth will sound. Screw it – a lie would likely be just as damning. Still, it takes him another pregnant pause to eventually admit, “... My brother.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you double down on your ire. “Absolutely not.” Shaking Sunghoon off your shoulder, you turn to leave, dragging him with you. Jake’s eyes close; he can’t bear to watch his last chance at passing this semester leave him in the dust.

So much so that he pleads again, “Wait, ___. Please.” Jake is begging now, and he feels a little pathetic for it. Still, he can’t help the way desperation drives him to continue. “You can block him for all I care. I can’t explain everything, but my life is quite literally in your hands right now. I just need–”

“No.” The single syllable vibrates with finality. “Do I have to spell it for you? N-” you bite, enunciating so sharply Jake thinks you might draw blood. “O. No. I’m not giving my number to you or your flake of a brother or anyone else that so much as looks like they might have the name Sim.”

God, is the only think Jake can think as he miserably watches your retreating figure, Sunghoon stumbling along as you drag him with you. I am so fucked.

…

When Sunghoon finally emerges from your guest bedroom an hour before noon the next day, it’s to ask if you’d be kind enough to spare him some Advil. Even with a bad case of bedhead and the aftermath of overconsumption, he still manages to look good, albeit a little lifeless.

“I’ll do you one better,” you tell him, but reach for the small white bottle anyway, shaking out a few tablets and offering them to your best friend along with a glass of cold water.

“Bagels and coffee?” Sunghoon asks over the rim of his glass, with a little more alertness in his eyes than there was moments before.

“Bagels and coffee,” you confirm. A tried and true hangover cure, if there ever was one. And even though your head is feeling nice and clear, thanks to your trusty two drink limit that has yet to fail you, the local cafe a block from your apartment is very rarely something you turn down.

Thirty minutes later and a change of clothes later, the two of you are trading gossip and stealing bites of each other’s orders when the other person isn’t looking at the table in the back corner of the cafe. Sunghoon is just about to stuff another piece of your bagel in his mouth when he notices yet another notification light up the screen of your phone.

Sunghoon nods towards where it rests on the table, bagel suddenly forgotten. “Is that your mom again?”

“Yep.” Your lips stretch thin. You don’t even need to glance down at your phone to confirm. She’s been blowing up your notifications all weekend. “She’s been on my ass about the upcoming fundraiser event for days now. And reminding me about the utmost importance of bringing an appropriate plus-one.”

Across from you, Sunghoon straightens his shoulders. “I suppose it is about time I bust out the trusty old prom suit again.”

You sigh, sending your half-eaten bagel a forlorn glance. “I wish. She told me if I ever bring you again, I lose half my trust fund.”

“What?” Sunghoon looks affronted. “Why?”

You level him with a look. “Does soap ring a bell?”

Sunghoon splutters in indignation. “That was one time,” he defends. “And anyone would have thought those were edible! They were shaped like candies, and they were on a platter–”

“Soap presentation aside, I don’t think that excuse will work on her.” The dejection in your voice is apparent. “Besides, she’s already made it very clear that you’re explicitly forbidden from attending any future family events as my plus-one.”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles. “Keep all your stupid inedible soaps.” Pausing for a moment, he realizes that still leaves a giant question hanging in the air. “Who are you gonna bring, then? You know, it kind of is too bad your date with Sim number one didn’t pan out.”

You shrug, pointedly ignoring the way your phone screen lights up yet again. It really is a bit of a shame James turned out to be an unreliable flake. One that still hasn’t bothered to apologize to you or even give any sort of indication that he remembered your scheduled date. Still, you can’t think of anyone that would earn your mother’s approval faster. “I’ll probably just fake a stomach flu.” After all, you’re kind of out of options. “I thought about asking Jungwon, but he’s got stuff going on for his internship that night. A big economics conference or something.”

“Speaking of economics,” Sunghoon leans in conspiratorially. “I think I might have some intel on our new friend from last night.”

“How was economics the segue you went with? We were literally just talking about his older brother.” Giving him a look of disbelief, you add, “And what about that interaction gave you the impression that we’re friends?”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon brushes you off before he continues, “Anyway, I heard from Heeseung who heard from Jay that apparently little Sim is hot garbage at economics. Rumor has it he’s already failed the class twice and is on track to do it again.”

You’re not sure why he’s deemed this information relevant to you, but you’d be lying if you said it weren’t a little amusing.

“Really? Jungwon’s taking it now too, and he said that he sleeps through half the lectures and is still pulling an A.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be prodigies.”

Your lips flatten. “Pretty sure you don’t have to be a prodigy to not fail an entry level course three times.”

“Hey, cut him some slack,” Sunghoon argues. “He’s only failed it twice as of now.”

You scoff, entirely uninterested in the gory details of Jake Sim’s academic failures. “Whatever.”

“Either way,” Sunghoon says, “Jay told Heeseung who told me that’s why he’s so desperate for your number.” Confusion makes itself known on your features. You still don’t see the connection until Sunghoon adds, “Apparently he made some sort of deal with his brother that if he gets him your phone number, he’ll help him pass econ.”

A beat of silence passes between you. The barista at the counter calls out a customer’s name. It’s all you can do to not let your jaw physically drop open, mostly because–

“That is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Glaring at Sunghoon, you can’t believe the theatrics of it all. “How many times have I told you to stop believing everything Heeseung says?”

“Technically, Jay said it,” Sunghoon corrects. “And I don’t know... It kind of makes sense when you think about it.”

You beg to differ. “It absolutely does not. What is this, middle school? Are we passing notes behind the teacher’s back and making our friends ask our crushes if they like us back?” It’s ridiculous. Absolutely, utterly ridiculous.

There is no way. Absolutely no way that James Sim, heir to a multimillion dollar company, is wasting his time giving his little brother an economics cheat sheet in exchange for your phone number.

Sunghoon raises his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just thought you might be curious.”

And you hate to admit it, but you kind of are. Even though every ounce of logic you’ve accumulated in twenty-one years of life tells you that Heeseung is a notorious gossip whose stories are just as much fiction as reality and your best friend is no better. Even though the whole thing makes absolutely no sense at all.

Even though you repeat it to yourself over and over for the rest of the day, that damn curiosity is still there. Pestering you and disturbing your sleep and leaving you wondering if maybe, just maybe, some things are entirely too ridiculous to be anything but true.

…

On Wednesday night, Jake and Heeseung are in the middle of a particularly brutal probability set when a sudden shadow looms over their favorite corner table on the third floor of the library.

Glancing up, Jake finds Heeseung’s gaze already trained somewhere over his shoulder. Jake can’t quite tell if the look on his face is confusion or terror.

“Mind if I join?” The request comes from behind him, posed in an oddly familiar voice. Heeseung is nodding in agreement before Jake has the chance to so much as turn around and identify the intruder.

All is revealed soon enough, though, when you slide down into the seat next to him, ignoring the way Heeseung scrambles to move his things and make room for you in the seat next to him. Instead, you busy yourself with setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your laptop.

It’s all Jake can do to stare at you blankly. This evening, you’ve traded the all black outfit from the other night’s party for something a bit more casual, something comfortable that blends in better to the background of a university library. The sudden proximity also means that the scent of your perfume is quick to waft over towards him.

Jake does his best to hold his breath before his brain can trick him into thinking he likes it.

“Stop looking at me like that.” A bold request for someone who just hijacked a study session and sat down with no explanation, but Jake wouldn’t expect anything less from you.

“Like what?” The words are out before he gives them permission. Across the table, Heeseung is staring too, but all three of you know the command isn’t for him.

“I don’t know.” Glancing at the battery bar hovering just above empty, you dig around in your bag for a moment for your laptop charger. Jake notes that you still have yet to look at him. Instead, you begin to busy yourself with typing something on your computer. “Just stop it.”

He hopes you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into the side of your head as his blank stare shifts into a glare.

Heeseung glances between the two of you. His outburst is sudden. “Oh! I just remembered.” He hits his head for good measure. The acting is wasted on this audience, though. Neither of you pay him any mind or even bother to glance in his direction. “I have to go, uh…” he trails off, finishing lamely with a rather flat, “somewhere else.”

“Great.” Your eyes don’t leave your screen, fingers still flying on your keyboard. “See you later.”

As Heeseung scrambles to pack up his unfinished statistics homework and high tail it out of the library, the air that has suddenly become stifling, Jake glances down at where your fingers are still moving.

Distractedly, he wonders how you can type so fast with nails that long, how you never seem to need the backspace key. How none of the pastel pink that coats your fingernails seems to be so much as chipped. A projection of perfection, he thinks, down to every last detail.

Moments pass, neither of you saying anything.

You still haven’t looked at him by the time you do eventually break the impasse. “I heard you suck at econ.”

And Jake actually cannot believe you. “Did you seriously hunt me down just to rub it in?”

“Rub it in?” That at least earns him some of your attention, even if it is just a brief, confused glance as your fingers pause in their typing. “It’s not like I’m the reason you can’t pass.”

“Believe it or not, you quite literally are.”

You sigh, removing your hands from your keyboard entirely. Then, before he can blink, you spin your entire body in your chair, eyes, shoulders, and knees all directly trained on him. Jake can’t help the way he flinches back a few inches at the sudden change in pace.

“Look,” you start. He can already tell by the way you wrap the single syllable sound in patronization that he’s not going to appreciate whatever you’re about to say. “I can tell that you’re not used to, like, having conversations with people, but usually what happens is you give someone enough information so that they know what you’re talking about.” He’s right.

And he’s quick to defend himself. “Maybe I could, if you’d let me get three words out without interr–”

But you’ve moved on already. “Is the whole ‘deal with your brother’ thing true?”

Jake lets the silence linger for a moment, looking at you in disbelief. “You literally just proved my point.”

You roll your eyes. “I knew what you were going to say, so I sped things along. Now answer my question.” You lay it out for him again. This time, even more directly. “Did you try to get my number because of some deal you made with your brother?”

He’s not sure why it sounds so ridiculous, narrated back to him in your voice. It’s not like it was a brilliant, foolproof plan to begin with, but the way you present it has him feeling about five inches tall.

“I…”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You really don’t beat around the bush, he thinks.

“Yes, okay?”

Looking behind you, you suddenly lean in a little closer. It’s all Jake can do not to flinch back again. Bringing your hand up to cup your mouth, it’s like you’re about to divulge a terrible secret when you whisper, “You’re that bad at econ?”

Jake just sighs. “Worse, probably.”

Frowning, you pull back a few inches. “Aren’t you a business major? Isn’t econ, like, pretty important for you?” If he were thinking clearly, Jake might wonder how you know that. But that only thing his mind has space for right now is annoyance. At you, at this exchange, at the way you so easily pick through his flaws and seem to have no problem laying them bare at his feet like he doesn't already know them intimately.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I got any say in my major,” Jake counters. He might have more patience for this conversation if he were having it with anyone but you, if you weren’t throwing his own insecurities back in his face with every follow-up question.

At that, something flickers through your eyes. Sympathy, maybe. “Fair enough.” Whatever it is, it’s gone before he can identify it. And it’s not enough to make you pull your punches. “Still though, that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jake doesn’t need the reminder. “Just get a tutor like everyone else.”

The thing is, Jake has thought about it. On more than one occasion. He’s even gotten so far as filling out the university tutor request form. He just could never quite bring himself to complete the ‘Name’ field without all of the potential consequences forcing him to hit backspace.

He might not be his brother, but he’s not stupid enough to think that his family would ever be okay with the Sim name anywhere near a tutor form. He tells you as much. “And listen to my dad tell me how much of a disappointment I am for not being able to even take a class on my own?” Jake laughs humorlessly. “No thanks.”

A beat passes. Two. You’re not done yet, but you at least have the decency to sound a little apologetic, a little tentative when you say, “Not to kick you while you’re down or anything, but I mean, that has to be better than failing twice.”

Jake just shakes his head. “You don’t know my father.”

You shrug but don’t press the matter further. Truth be told, you don’t know his father, but you do know fathers like him. You have one of your own. The third floor of the library doesn’t seem like the place for that conversation, though, even if you’ve already uncovered more than your fair share of each other’s secrets in the last ten minutes. “I guess not.”

…

Your phone is buzzing far too incessantly for a Saturday morning, much less this early on a Saturday morning. Internally, you curse Friday night you, who forgot to switch it into do not disturb before falling asleep. Face still buried in your pillow, you reach around your nightstand blindly with the intention of remedying that particular mistake and enjoying a few more moments of peace.

Before you can make good on your plan, you make the fatal mistake of reading the message preview before silencing your phone. And suddenly, to your neverending annoyance, you’re wide awake.

Mom [7:36 am]: Looking forward to seeing you next Saturday at the fundraiser.

Mom [7:37 am]: I also noticed that you haven’t indicated who you’ll be bringing yet. Please fill out the RSVP form when you have a moment.

Mom [7:45 am]: James Sim hasn’t RSVP’d yet. Are you bringing him? You should invite him if you haven’t already.

Mom [7:53 am]: I also never heard the update after your date a few weeks ago. Hoping no news is good news. I just spoke with his father the other day, and it sounds like he’s doing great things over at their company.

Mom [8:01 am]: I also heard that he volunteered a few summers ago rebuilding turtle habitats. Wow! I think you two would get along very well.

Groaning, you flip your phone back over. That about sums up how well she knows her only daughter, you think ruefully. If she thought wooing you with turtles was a good idea, she must have forgotten that you’ve had a lingering phobia of the freaky little reptiles since your friend from elementary school had a pet turtle that bit your finger when you were at her house.

Besides, you have serious doubts that’s actually how James Sim spent his last summer in university.

If memories from your social media scrolling serve correctly, rebuilding turtle habitats was code for partying on a yacht for a month straight. You don’t care how he spends his free time, but the way he already has your mother wrapped around his stupid finger is enough to annoy any lingering sleepiness out of your system.

Whatever. James Sim’s white lies are the least of your concerns now, and they certainly won’t solve your problems. If anything, you’re starting to regret not telling your mother anything about your failed attempt at a first date with him. Now, trying to explain that disaster of an evening would only sound like an excuse at best and a flimsy lie at worst.

And even if she did believe you, you still have the glaring issue of next Saturday and your lack of a pre-approved plus-one.

With one final groan, you pull your blanket over your face, trying and failing to banish any thoughts of your mother, James Sim, and the certain disaster next weekend will be.

Despite your best efforts, your worries linger. They follow you into Sunday; they start to make you desperate on Monday. With a diminishing handful of days left until the fundraiser, your anxiety only surges.

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’re so stressed out that you can barely force your eyes to focus on the nearly blank Word document in front of you, all of the legalese and case details you can usually sort through in your sleep jumbling into one incomprehensible blob.

Halfway through your third reread of a paragraph that details the basics of copyright law, it strikes you. The seedling of an idea so utterly ridiculous it just might be your saving grace.

Your mother probably, definitely, couldn’t care less about James Sim’s so-called affinity for wildlife rescue. No, the only thing that makes him an appropriate candidate in her eyes for this Saturday has nothing to do with his personality at all.

It’s his name that she likes. His family name specifically.

In the middle of your favorite cafe, it hits you. The seedling of an idea sprouts roots, begins to bloom.

If one Sim is good enough to be your plus-one, then surely the other one would be too.

And you know exactly where he’ll be tonight. Glancing down at the time on your phone, you force your brain to think. Now, all you need is a plan. A way to convince him. Something he can’t refuse.

Closing the lid of your laptop, you smile. You know exactly what it is he wants.

Before you leave the cafe, you send a quick message to a friend. Set your plan in place so that the details are polished, irrefutable when you present it to him.

And then you set out for the university library.

When you find Jake and Heeseung sitting at the same exact table on the third floor of the library, Heeseung doesn’t even bother to stick around for the customary greetings. Instead, he takes one single look at you before offering another flimsy excuse about having somewhere to be. Or maybe something to do. You can’t remember, and it doesn’t really matter.

After all, the only reason you’re here is because–

“I have a way for you to pass econ.” Sliding into the seat next to Jake, the same one you sat in last time, you don’t waste any time before divulging the reason for your presence.

If Jake is startled, he doesn’t show it. Statistics homework forgotten on the table, the only thing you see on his face is pure, obvious relief as his shoulders relax.

“Thank god.” Reaching for his phone, he unlocks it, tapping and swiping until he’s ready to enter a new contact. “Give me your number, and I’ll–”

You shake your head, interrupting his train of thoughts. The way you smile makes him suddenly uneasy. He thought this was over, but now he’s not so sure. You confirm his fears when you say, “A different way.”

Now Jake just looks exasperated. If you keep up this habit, he’s about to start failing statistics too. Never mind the fact that he got his hopes up for what he is sure will turn out to be a giant pile of nothing. Still, he humors you. “What do you mean, a different way?”

“I mean,” you start, folding your hands across your lap. Jake has the distinct impression that you’re trying your best to be as convincing as possible. If nothing else, it does pique his curiosity. He’s never seen you be anything but annoyed or uninterested. It’s an interesting change of pace.“I have a friend who’s also taking econ right now and hasn’t scored below a 98 on a single assignment.” Jesus, Jake thinks. Must be nice.

And then you drop the bomb on him. “He said he’s more than willing to tutor you. For money, of course.” you specify, moving on so quickly he hardly has the chance to process what you’re saying. “And it’s not like you can’t afford it, but I’ll split the cost with you. For the principle of it all.” There’s a beat of silence as what you’ve just said settles into the air. “Oh,” you add, remembering the most important detail. “And he’ll be discreet. Under the table tutoring, if you will. No chance of word getting back to Daddy Sim.”

You do your best to give him your most trustworthy smile. Jake just stares back at you, mildly horrified.

When he finally speaks again, it’s to say, “... Please, and I mean this with every single bone in my body, please never refer to my father like that again.”

Not even bothering to look sheepish, the only agreement you offer is a mock salute.

Your poor taste in nicknames aside, it does seem like a pretty sweet deal from where Jake is sitting. He cannot fail economics again, and getting a tutor would mean that his brother couldn’t hold his success over his head, couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for it. And a discreet tutor would be even better. Not going through the official university system would mean a much lower chance of his father ever finding out he got some help along the way.

All things considered, and very much to his surprise, Jake is having a hard time seeing any downsides.

He goes through the list again. First, he gets to pass economics. Second, he doesn’t have to deal with his older brother in the process. Third, he gets a tutor that won’t pop up on his father’s radar, and all Jake has to do in return is–

Wait.

“Hold on a minute.” There’s an unmistakable edge of suspicion in Jake’s voice. There’s no way you went out of your way to find him a tutor, to help pay for it, without getting something in return. The wheels in his mind are starting to spin when he asks, “What’s in it for you?”

Next to him, you smile. It’s small, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you almost look nervous. “It’s just a small favor, really.” The expression on your face is not reassuring in the slightest. Still, you insist, “It’ll be easy, I promise. Just a few hours of your time at most.”

Jake knows better than to agree without details. And especially to anything you’re proposing. He’s already preparing to kiss his dreams of passing econ goodbye when he asks slowly,“What is it?”

You sigh, pretenses dropping. If you’re going to convince him now, you might as well do it with honesty. “That annual charity fundraiser event my parents throw. Your parents are usually there, I think. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone?”

Jake shrugs, frowning as he tries to remember. He’s not entirely sure either. After a while, fundraisers and events and family obligations all start to blur together. Although the name does ring a bell, albeit a distant, faint one.

“Anyway,” you continue, “my mother is insistent that I bring a date. Someone she considers appropriate company. You know, runs in the same circles and comes from what she would consider a good family.” Jake nods. He does know exactly what you mean. Picking up on his agreement, you add with a twinge of hopefulness, “Like I said, it would be easy. Especially for you, since you’re used to this kind of stuff. I wouldn’t have to train you–”

That has Jake rolling his eyes. “Let me guess. I get a treat for rolling over?”

The ice in your glare is half hearted. “You know what I mean. There are certain…” You weigh your words carefully. “expectations at these things.” Pausing for a moment, you add, “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you’ll eat the soap, even if it’s candy shaped and on a platter.”

If you were trying to clarify your point, you did a terrible job. Jake’s brow pulls downwards in confusion. “Is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?”

“Unfortunately not.” You shake your head, but don’t explain any further. Sunghoon’s mishaps are not the point of this conversation. A mutually beneficial deal is. Which is why you ask him, “So, what do you say? Are you in or not?”

Is he? Jake says nothing, considering. Mentally, he goes through the list of pros and cons. Pros, he thinks. I get to finally pass econ, and I get to do it without my brother. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, gaze tracking the movement as you nervously bite at your lower lip. Also, I get to show up at an event with the girl he’s been trying to get for weeks now.

He’d be lying if that didn't spark a certain warm feeling in his chest, if it didn’t inspire a sudden bout of preemptive vindication. But there are other things to consider.

Cons, he continues internally. I have to spend an entire evening at an event hosted by your family and make them believe you don’t annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

Weighing his options, Jake has one more question. “How long would it be?” he asks, and you try to stifle a grin, as if he’s already told you yes.

“The event is technically four hours,” you say carefully, “but I’m sure we could manage to sneak out after a solid two and a half.”

Jake nods, thinking it over a moment longer.

“Okay,” he finally breathes, hoping this isn’t some kind of terrible, elaborate trick, that he isn’t about to sign his life away on a dotted line.

For econ, he thinks. For what’s left of his struggling GPA. He can manage a single night at a mind-numbingly boring high society function. Even if it’s with you. “I’m in.”

And it feels a bit strange, he has to admit, as he watches you type your contact information into his contact list. It feels odd to have your number in his phone with no intention of passing it on. To know that he’s the one who will be using it to confirm the details of this Saturday. To know that his brother will be none the wiser and not at all closer to having any kind of access to you.

And if that strange surge of smugness makes another sudden appearance, well, Jake just figures that no one ever has to know about it.

…

Frowning, you give yourself another once over in the full length mirror that sits next to your vanity. A shimmering, pale gold, the evening gown that flows over your figure was hand-selected by you for this very event. For some reason, you’re having a hard time rediscovering the magic you’d felt trying it on in the showroom here in the soft, ambient light of your bedroom.

Objectively, you’re sure you must look good. The compliments the store attendants had given you were more than just customary, and gold has always been your color. Still, a slew of sudden uncertainties simmer in your gut. Is the slight sparkle too garish? Does the gold wash you out? Your worries feel too big for your bedroom, at too stark an opposition with the peaceful ambience as soft, instrumental music plays from your speaker.

But this particular Saturday evening has its ways of making you feel jumbled where you’d typically be steadfast. Insecure where you’d usually find confidence.

It’s true that your mother has always had a critical eye, and especially where you’re concerned. If you were to search deep enough, however, you’d find that she’s not the person you’re most concerned about making a lasting impression on tonight.

With no small effort, you resist the urge to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the bodice of your dress. A nervous habit more than anything, it’s only exacerbated by the way your phone is still devoid of notifications. The clock on your nightstand is a reminder that your date for the evening should be here any minute, should be sending a message as confirmation of his arrival at your apartment. But your phone is still silent, even as the hour of the fundraiser draws nearer and nearer.

Maybe this was a terrible mistake, you think, a new bout of uncertainties beginning to brew. It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Trust him to be just as flakey as his brother, with absolutely no regard for previous commitments or anyone else’s time. It’s just your luck that you get stood up again, this time by the other Sim.

You're in the middle of disguising your fears and distracting yourself by cursing him and his future bloodline when your phone finally pings with an incoming notification. Well, you think, grabbing your coat, feeling a bit ridiculous for the slight overreaction, you’ll have to look into removing generational curses when you have the time.

For now, you settle with pulling on your heels for the evening, ignoring the way you feel a bit wobbly despite the fact that you’ve walked in far worse. Locking your apartment behind you and striking a slightly unsteady pace towards the elevator down the hall, you whisper a silent plea that tonight isn’t as much of a disaster as you’re afraid it could be.

You watch as the numbers on the elevator screen tick lower and lower, a swirling mix of dread and excitement starting to swim in your stomach. When you finally reach the first floor, you’re surprised to see a familiar face waiting for you in the lobby. Something in you softens, albeit just slightly. You’d incorrectly assumed he would just wait for you in the comfort of his car and spent the whole ride down preparing to awkwardly check license plates in the near dark till you found the right one.

An overwhelming sense of self-consciousness returns to you under the brightness of the lobby lights. Unconsciously, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, wondering how long it will take him to notice you as you begin to walk towards him. You’ve only made it a few steps when it strikes you that he’s already distracted by something else.

Across the lobby, Jake Sim is engaged in a conversation with your doorman. One that looks slightly heated, by your judgment.

As you get closer, their words become more audible.

“Like I just told you,” The exasperation in your date’s voice is apparent. “I’m here to see ___.”

And you really should make your presence known, should step in and divert the brewing argument, especially since you seem to be the subject of it.

But then you look at Jake. Really look at him.

Realistically, you knew he would come well-dressed. That had been a big part of your reason for choosing him. The Sunghoon soap fiasco aside, you already knew Jake Sim wasn’t someone who needed you to put together a PowerPoint presentation on formal event dress code. He didn’t need you to explain the concept of complementary colors or the advantages of getting a suit tailored. Didn’t need you to explain that Converse were not an appropriate show or that no, a bolo tie is not acceptable attire.

Up until now, you were grateful for his pre existing knowledge. It saved you a lot of time and effort that you could use to focus on other things, like getting ready yourself. But it also meant that you were entirely unprepared to see him like this.

Eyes scanning him again, the immaculate fit of his suit is undeniable, as is the way his dark hair is perfectly mussed. It’s styled enough to avoid withering comments from elderly attendees who have the habit of asking how people see with their hair covering their eyes. But it’s also messy in a way that looks intentional, in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it, tug at it just a little, just to tease.

It’s not just that he’s dressed well, though, despite the fact that he undeniably is.

No, what has you freezing in your footsteps is the fact that Jake looks good.

“And like I just told you, you’re not on her guest list. So I’m sorry, sir.” There is not a single trace of apology in your doorman’s voice. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you up. You’ll have to contact her and ask her to add you to her guest list.” You’re not sure how he manages to do it without losing any professionality, but your doorman makes it very clear that he thinks that will happen just as soon as hell freezes over.

Jake’s shoulders tense in visible frustration. You have to suppress an actual sigh at the way fabric stretches over the muscle there. “Again, I’m not asking you to. Could you please just let her know that I’m here? She’s not answering her messages–”

“How odd.” The sarcasm is unmistakable.

Getting a little desperate, Jake ignores the slight and continues anyway. “And we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so–”

From here, you can see the way his features start to twist in panic. It’s sobering enough to snap you out of your trance.

Cutting in, you make your presence known. “It’s okay,” you tell your doorman first. “I know him.” Then, you turn to Jake, putting on an award-worthy performance of false nonchalance when you explain, “Sorry I didn’t respond to your message. I was just on my way down.”

You watch as some of the tension drains from his features. “That’s alright,” Jake concedes easily. “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t late.”

A funny feeling, a new one, stirs again. Something in you softens. “I appreciate that.”

You can’t help the way you take another look at him. At his suit, his hair, his face. At him, at all of it.

Mistaking your gaze for scrutiny, he asks, a bit self-consciously, “What do you think? Will your mother approve?”

She will. There’s no doubt in your mind. But you’re not looking at him through her eyes when you tell him, “Yeah, you look good. Really good.”

The last part probably wasn’t necessary, but the way he flushes makes it almost worth it. Casting your eyes downward in an effort to hide a smile, you notice a detail that you missed earlier.

Jewelry. Gold jewelry. A handful of rings on his fingers and a delicate bracelet on his left wrist.

Suddenly, his message from last night makes a little more sense.

Jake [9:02 pm]: What color is your dress for tomorrow?

You [9:08 pm]: Gold. Don’t worry about trying to match. A black suit will be just fine.

Now, you’re grateful he didn’t fully listen to you, touched that he even bothered to ask.

Across from you, Jake is suddenly having a bit of a hard time breathing. The earlier near-fiasco with your doorman all but forgotten, you’re still admiring his bracelet as his eyes scan the length of you, throat bobbing by the time his gaze makes its way back up to your face.

“You, uh,” he coughs. “You look nice too.”

“Thank you.” You miss the way his gaze wanders, can’t seem to find a place to land that won’t dust the tops of his cheekbones an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing this dress forever.”

And it is a nice dress, Jake thinks, but he’s not sure how to tell you that’s not what he meant.

Eyes finally landing on your feet, or rather, on the stilettos you’re wearing, he frowns. “I had to park kind of far away.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll pull the car around front.”

“Okay.” Something in you melts a bit at his consideration, at the fact that he even noticed. “Thank you.”

And it is nice, you think, to not be beginning the evening with your feet already sore. To have someone pick up on the little things, even if he’s being compensated for it in the form of half-price tutoring.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you try not to sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl when he opens the door for you, when he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he reverses the car out of its parking spot. Get it together, you think. You’ve turned up your nose at far more obvious attempts at wooing you, and it’s not like Jake is here with you out of his own volition. The thought is surprisingly disappointing, as he adjusts the stereo, soft music filling the silence.

The drive passes like that, in a quiet that’s only uncomfortable if you look at it too close. Eventually, the soft melodies filtering through the stereo become a pleasant sort of background noise as you watch the world blur outside the window.

It would be smart, probably, to sort out your story for the evening and put together something coherent for when the two of you are inevitably asked invasive questions, but you can’t bring yourself to be the one to disturb the peace.

So when you arrive at the fundraiser a handful of minutes later, you just have to hope that the image the two of you strike together will be enough to stave off any unwanted questions for the time being.

Again, Jake opens your car door for you, offers a steadying hand as you step out of it. And when he gives you his arm as you enter through the front door of the venue, you take it, wrapping your fingers around his elbow. Pausing just outside the entrance, you watch as he takes a deep breath.

“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself.

Jake answers for the both of you. “Let’s do this.”

Walking through the lobby, you hand your jackets to the coat check attendant before entering the ballroom where the fundraiser is held. Despite your general distaste for this evening and everything it entails – you sneak a glance at your partner in crime. Well, mostly everything – you can’t help but admire the space around you.

Decorated immaculately down to every last element, your mother truly doesn’t spare any expense or detail when it comes to throwing parties. And like always, she somehow manages to have a sharp eye on everything and everyone, no matter how chaotic or busy. You’ve hardly taken two steps inside the ballroom when she finds you, approaches you will all the grace of a panther stalking its prey.

Pulling you in for a quick hug, the warm greeting she gives you is more for the benefit of onlookers than for you. And it forces you to remove your hand from Jake’s arm.

Looking over your shoulder, her voice is sickeningly saccharine. “And this must be James,” she beams, making eye contact with the wrong brother. Directing her attention to him, she gushes, “My daughter has told me wonderful things about you.”

Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. Jake stifles a laugh, expertly turns it into a cough.

Really? You think. She did all that digging on James’ so-called turtle philanthropy but never bothered to pull up a picture of the guy? And you mean, standard genetic similarities aside, it’s not like the two of them look that much alike.

“Actually, mom,” you spare him the expense of having to correct her mistake, “this is Jake Sim. James’ brother. We go to school together.”

“Oh,” her eyebrows fall at the slip, no doubt an unforgivable social faux pas in her mind. “You never filled out the RSVP form, sweetie,” she somehow makes the term of endearment sound like a curse, “so I wasn’t sure who you’d be bringing.” Trust her to find a way to make her mistake your fault.

Turning back to your date, she tries to remedy her mistake. “Jake, then.” She offers him a smile so forced you’re surprised her cheeks aren’t aching. Looking back at you, she fishes, “And he’s your…?”

Her dangling bait goes untouched. “He’s my plus-one.” It’s an intentional choice of words on your part. In your mind, it’s a neutral enough term that will hopefully let you navigate the evening without too many rumors or invasive questions about your personal life from people you only speak to out of reluctant obligation.

Jake is less used to the way your mother tends to poke and prod, the way she likes to examine the superficial details of your life with a microscope and make sure she can frame them in a way that will be pleasing for public perception. The way she doesn’t ask about your love life because it’s of any genuine interest to her, but because she wants sole control of the rumor mill’s production.

Next to you, he stiffens, feels as though he’s already failed some kind of test he didn’t know he was taking, wasn’t given any materials to study for.

There’s a lot to be said, probably, about the way you pick up on his discomfort so easily. The way your hand returns to the crook of his elbow wordlessly and gives a single, gentle squeeze. Reassuring him, putting his nerves at ease, as you begin to navigate your way out of this conversation.

“We’d better find our seats,” you tell your mother. The only reason Jake can identify the icy edge hiding in the superficial sweetness of your voice is because he’s been on the receiving end of it. On multiple occasions. Directed at someone else, he finds it almost amusing. “Wouldn't want to miss anything.”

“Of course,” your mother concedes, but there’s an undertone there. Jake can tell that there’s a war being waged here, battles and skirmishes in subtext and stilted pauses. He’s no stranger to the way high society likes to wrap up insults in niceties and skirt around delicate topics, but his own family has never been anything but blunt when it comes to their distaste for him and his choices.

He’s still not entirely sure what he just witnessed, but you’re dragging him by his arm to find your assigned table before he can sort through the offending slights and put on armor that may be of any use to you.

Carefully arranged, the maze of tables is easy enough to navigate. Each seat has a white place card in front of it, embossed with a shimmery golden script that matches your dress and holds the name of the guest who’s been assigned to sit there.

You drag Jake past a flurry of names and attendees he half recognizes, stopping only to grab two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handing one to Jake before you continue on your mission. After another minute of searching, you find your name at a table a few rows out from the far wall. Rolling your eyes, you can practically hear your mother’s reasoning: Not too close to the wall. Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m trying to hide her. But certainly not anywhere near the center of the room, in case she falls into that pesky habit of being an awful embarrassment.

Standing behind your chair, your eyes find the place card stationed in front of the seat next to yours at the same time Jake’s do.

“Oh my god.” The exasperation is apparent, even though your words are barely audible where you mutter them under your breath.

Because of course this hasn’t already been enough of a train wreck. Because of course the place card next to yours doesn’t have Jake’s name on it. Nope, embossed in the same shimmery gold is the name of another person entirely.

James Sim.

You turn to your date, apologetic. “God, I’m sorry. I really didn’t fill out the RSVP form, but I didn’t think she’d just assume…”

“It’s okay.” Jake gives you some grace. “Really, it wouldn’t be the first time.” And all things considered, he kind of is in his brother’s seat tonight. Attending an event that’s better suited for the future head of the company than his forgotten younger brother. Accompanying the girl that public opinion surely dictates would be a better match for him.

Still, you frown. Reaching for the small clutch that sits against your hip, you rummage for a moment before pulling out a black permanent marker.

Jake glances at you sideways.Your bag of the evening is tiny, barely even big enough to hold your phone. He’s surprised you managed to fit the marker in there, much less prioritize it enough to bring it with you. “You carry that thing around with you all the time?”

You shrug. “Never know when you’ll need to do some DIY vandalism.”

It would be a lie if he said something in him doesn’t soften, just a bit, when he watches you reach for the place card in front of his seat and put a giant, bold X over his brother’s name.

Your handwriting is no match for the computer-generated script, but Jake still likes the place card a little better when you’re done with it, likes the way his name looks next to yours when you set it back on the table, alterations completed.

“There,” you say, looking entirely too satisfied with your handiwork. “All better.” This time, you slide down into your seat before Jake has the chance to pull it out for you. Turning to him as he tentatively takes the seat next to you, he finds a small frown on your lips. “Wait,” you pause, realization written across your features. “Your brother isn’t coming, right?”

Jake shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it. He has no reason to come. My parents are on a business trip, so they won’t be here either. And that also probably means he’s more swamped than usual at the office.”

Nodding, you take a sip of champagne. “Good.” Pausing, your lips quirk. “Although it would be kind of funny if he–”

“I think you’re in my seat.” The sudden interruption is flat, leaves no room for arguments.

Startled, the two of you spin in your chairs.

James Sim, despite his brother’s predictions, is in fact not otherwise occupied at his office. Instead, he stands directly behind his younger sibling, strikes an imposing figure where his shadow blocks the chandelier light behind him and extends over his brother and his altered place card.

Eyes flaming, he looks at where his name has been crossed out. Replaced.

Next to Jake, you remain silent, figure that you’ll let Jake handle this one the way he let you handle your mother. Far be it from you to step in on a family matter.

But then you notice the way Jake shrinks a little in his seat, hides a little further in his brother’s shadow. Reaches for the place card like he wishes he could take it back.

Sliding your gaze back to your least favorite Sim sibling, your voice is even, albeit icy, when you point out the obvious, “It’s not actually. Can’t you read?” Jake’s hand stops in its tracks, falls back to his lap.

A quick look your way is the only indication James even hears you. Instead, he continues his one-sided conversation with his brother, a barely controlled sort of fury crossing over his expression. “Hm,” he muses, glancing between the two of you. “Sure seems like you two are awfully close.” Casting an accusatory glare at Jake, he adds, “That’s funny. I could have sworn you said you barely knew her.”

Her. You’re sitting right there, and you don’t even get a name.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake either. And it turns out to be just what he needs to find his voice. You’re almost proud of the sarcasm he manages to muster when he counters, “Yeah, well, this funny thing happens when you spend time together. You actually get to know each other.” Straightening his spine, there’s an unmistakable edge in his voice when he adds, “You know, when you actually bother to show up, that is.”

You hide a laugh behind your hand, albeit not very well. Glancing at Jake, a feeling swells in your chest that you can only identify as pride. You didn’t know he had it in him.

Reassessing his strategy, James turns to you, forcing a nonchalance that is entirely contradicted by the way his cheeks are rapidly reddening. “Actually, ___,” he tries, acting as if the last thirty seconds faded out of existence at his will. “I was hoping to speak to you about something. I’d love to get you a drink if you–”

“Actually,” Jake cuts in, doubling down. “We already have drinks.” Behind you on the table, the two near full glasses of champagne are undeniable evidence. The laugh that spills out of you this time is impossible to hide. Yeah, you decide, between the two of them, you definitely hate James more. Entirely amused, the only thing you wish you had is a bowl of popcorn as you root for the underdog. Not that he needs it. Much to your satisfaction, he’s been landing his punches well.

The giggle dies on your lips, though, when you feel the warmth of another hand suddenly cover the top of yours where it rests on your thigh. Gaze flaming, James follows the movement. Startled, your eyes fly to Jake. The only view you’re offered is of his profile as he keeps his gaze trained on his brother, the challenge in his features unmistakable.

The only consolation he offers for your sudden shock is a small, reassuring squeeze against your knuckles.

And then he says, “And I’d like to keep my girlfriend right here, actually.” At that, he does finally turn to you, eyes pleading, gaze imploring when he seeks your permission. Even though they’re performative in nature, his words aren’t solely for James’ benefit. “If that’s alright with you, that is.”

Girlfriend.

You were perfectly happy in the role of the observer, but now Jake has dragged you into the spotlight. Even though it pains you, you know you can’t leave him hanging. Not when that would mean a sure victory for his dickhead of a brother.

Girlfriend. The word echoes in your head, has you feeling dizzy.

“Of course,” you return hollowly, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice over the sudden rushing in your ears. “Boyfriend.”

When you smile at him, you make sure it looks sickeningly sweet enough to deter James. Your eyes, however, flash with a warning only Jake can read.

“You’re dating?” James can’t hide his shock, and his outrage is just as obvious.

“Yep,” Jake passes you a panicked look. But you don’t need it, don’t need his convincing. You’ve already dug yourself a deep enough hole. Trying to climb out now would only mean everything crumbles.

“Sure are,” you confirm with a tight smile. Turning back to Jake, you add, “Actually, sweetie, I need to talk to you about, uh…” you scramble for a moment. Finish vaguely with, “that thing.”

“Right.” Jake picks up on the threat in your eyes seamlessly, knows there’s only one acceptable response. “That thing,” he echoes.

“Yeah, so,” you turn back to James, barely acknowledging him as you start to stand. “We’re gonna step out for a minute.”

Jake is all but putty in your hands as you switch the positioning of your grip so that the hand that was resting on yours is now encased firmly between your fingers.

“See you later,” are Jake’s breathless parting words to his brother.

“Hopefully not, though,” you alter.

And then you’re dragging him back through the crowd towards the exit, and it’s all Jake can do to not run into the other guests or knock over the delicately balanced trays of hors d’oeuvres waiters carry throughout the room. He’s at your mercy all the way through the double doors of the ballroom, and you pause only briefly to determine which hallway is less likely to have people in it before deciding on the one to the right, towing him along behind you.

Once you’re far enough away from unwanted eyes and ears, you start wiggling every door knob you come across, growing visibly more frustrated until you finally find an unlocked one. Huffing, you push Jake into the spare storage closet first. Following him in, you close the door behind you.

The sudden change in space puts you in close proximity. Your nose is only a handful of inches away from his when you start laying out accusations.

“What the hell?” With the same hand than just dragged him on a half marathon, you shove at his chest. “Boyfriend?” You have half a mind to grab the broom standing next to you and start whacking him with it.

“I’m sorry!” Jake holds his hands up defensively. He doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing every cleaning tool around you, no doubt deciding which would make the most effective weapon. “I panicked, okay? I just hate that smug little look he gets on his face–”

“Well you’re about to be seeing ‘that smug little look’ a lot more once he calls your bluff!” you half-shout, trying to convey your anger without alerting anyone to your presence.“The timeline barely lines up to begin with. It’s only been what, a few weeks since I was supposed to go on a date with him? And that’s not to mention the fact that there won’t be anyone to corroborate our story, because we don’t spend any time together, since, y’know, we’re not dating.”

Jake begs to differ. You’ve invaded more than one of his Wednesday night statistics study sessions.

But before he can point this out, you’re continuing. “Which means you’re gonna have to come up with some sort of believable explanation for why we break up after, like, three days.”

“Ugh.” Jake drags an open palm down his face. He hates to admit it, but you do have a point there.

Fingers running through his hair, his sudden stress is apparent. And you’re not trying to send him to an early grave, but would it have killed him to think before he spoke? Consider the consequences of starting the exact kind of rumor you’ve been hoping to dodge all evening? You get that his brother is not exactly an easy person to get along with, but was the short-lived victory really worth the potential fallout?

Across from you, Jake seems to be having the same realizations. A million thoughts whirring through his brain, he’s not sure where to place his focus.

After a moment, he settles on optimism. “Look, I think it will be fine.” The more he thinks about it, the more he convinces himself he believes it. “James has been up to his ass in company stuff since the second he graduated, so it’s not like he has extra time to check up on us or anything.” And even if he did, James would have no way of knowing who to ask. Jake has the sneaking suspicion his older brother couldn’t name a single one of his friends if his life depended on it. He would have no idea who to track down to corroborate your so-called romance.

“We won’t have to do anything,” Jake reasons. “I’ll just mention you in passing for the next few weeks if he happens to ask.” Even that should be simple enough. After all, Jake seriously doubts he will. “And by the time the holidays roll around, I can just say things fizzled naturally.” Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. Mutual, and your pride and his both remain intact. “No big deal.”

Across from him, you weigh his words. It makes sense, yes, but there’s something starting to swirl in your gut that you don’t like. It feels a little too much like dread, like trepidation. Jake can read all of the uncertainty written across your face when you tell him, “I still don’t like it. My mother and your brother were both here tonight and already got different stories from us. This could get messy really quickly. I mean, what if our families start talking–”

“They won’t.” Jake shakes his head. “Your mom thinks I’m just a plus-one, and when my name comes up in James and my father’s conversations, it isn’t to discuss the ins and outs of my dating life.” Of this, at least, Jake is sure. His father couldn’t care less who he dates, as long as it’s not a liability to him, to the company. “Besides, we're university students.” Jake tries to lighten the mood, clear some of the tension. “Twenty-one and immature and all that.” For a moment, Jake imagines what life would feel like if that’s truly all he was, if that’s the only thing he got to be. No added pressure of a notorious last name and a reputation to maintain. Tucking that thought to the back of his mind, he decides he’ll mourn it later. “A short-lived relationship with a story that doesn’t quite add up is practically a right of passage. Not something to be suspicious of.”

You remain silent for a moment, but your hand doesn’t get any closer to the broom.

“Okay.” Some of the tension seeps out of your shoulders as you turn his reasoning over in your brain, nodding as his logic starts to piece together. “Okay,” you reiterate. You still don’t like it, but he’s right about one thing: it is the best option you have.

After all, there’s no way in hell you’re about to go tell your mother that your plus-one is actually your secret boyfriend, and you hate to admit it, but James’ little smirk is incredibly agitating. And it will all blow over, you’re sure. Like Jake said, James and your mother have no real reason to talk, and if Jake is convinced that his brother won’t be spreading this particular rumor, you’ll just have to believe him for the time being.

Letting him out of the closet first, you only imitate hitting him upside the back of the head once before you catch up to him, linking arms again before reentering the ballroom.

As the evening goes on, your worry starts to subside. Thankfully, every other part of the night goes perfectly to plan, even if you do have to force yourself to laugh a little too hard at one of Jake’s awful jokes when you catch James watching the two of you. The second glass of champagne you down helps, if nothing else.

Exactly as you predicted, after two and a half hours have passed, you and Jake are sneaking out the back exit, tiptoeing to his car as the fourth speaker of the evening continues their droning speech inside the event. Your mother is none the wiser to your early departure, and you hope it’s the first in a series of victories for the evening.

When Jake drops you off just outside the front doors of your apartment building, his smile is almost reassuring enough to put that lingering sense of unease to rest where it still sits in your gut.

Makeup removed, hair washed, and evening gown traded for pajamas, sleep is slow to find you a handful of hours later. Eventually, though, it does, and your rest is undisturbed, dreamless.

…

The next morning, with nothing but the pastel tones of sunrise and the sound of his brewing coffee maker to keep him company, Jake Sim stares at the message on his phone in abject horror.

Mom [7:32 am]: I can’t believe I had to find out from your brother! Family dinner next weekend at our place. Bring your girlfriend. :)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

PART TWO IS UP AND LINKED ON MY MASTERLIST!

note: thank you for reading!! this is the version I had saved in my docs and it should be identical to what was posted before but in case there are any slight differences, that's why. I also sometimes make the fatal mistake of doing small grammatical edits in tumblr itself, so please excuse any minor errors as I didn't do a read through this time around. as always, I love to hear any thoughts you may have!

#enhypen fanfiction #jake fanfiction #enhypen jake #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #jake sim #jake fanfic #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #jake imagines #jake scenarios #jake x you #enhypen x you #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff

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northopalshore · 2 months ago

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Neptune in Aries

The birth of a new world religion

"January Neptune enters Aries on March 30, but it will station retrograde on July 4, and eventually re-enter Pisces on Oct. 22, 2025. After stationing direct on Dec. 10, it will return to Aries on Jan. 26, 2026, where it will remain until May 23, 2039" (People.com)

Northopalshores' Masterlist | Midheaven Persona Chart | private readings

🐏 In the next 13-14 years we will be witnessing another rebirth around art, music, cinema, addiction & religion or spirituality as well as mental health. Everything under these areas will undergo a long-term shift. Neptune also tends to reflect what is seen as "cool" for each generation involved.

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🐏 A lot more media will be put under polarizing influences as well people having clear likes and dislikes (beliefs being revisited, questioned, people arguing over their own interpretations and no longer confining themselves under outside influence).

In art, cinema or music you can expect more independent or new impactful creations brought to life (gone is the age of remakes or brands trying to relieve what they use to have or be in the past!).

🐏 New independent artists popping up, so we'll likely see the decline of nepotism going around in the entertainment industry as well. At the very least they won't exactly hold the same influence as they once did. People are prioritizing people's choice.

Not without it's problems of course (the people assuming more authority over who gets famous and for how long, being disrespectful, assuming more or equal power over celebrities, destroying boundaries once more but in a more demanding way kinda).

🐏 In a way, I think we'll start to see something similar as when Neptune was in Leo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, & Aquarius (the rise of idealistic Hollywood & celebrities, then a renewal controversial, free spirited and "wild" celebrity culture)

I wanted to include some history & the past that I'm referencing in this post to further highlight these themes & make my point clear.

💣 In Leo, late 1920s to early 1960s:

Neptune was in Leo starting around late 1915 untill early 1929 & then in Libra starting late 1942 untill early 1956 (also retrogrades between Virgo & Scorpio throughout that time).

We saw the rise of Hollywood and a monopoly over media and & movie screening rights or "block booking" (forcing theaters to buy bundles of films including low-quality ones if they wanted to show the hits) to ensure their profit & movies of choice would be shown. Major movie theaters i.e Warner Bros, MGM & Paramount controlled the film distribution.

Celebrities were considered royalty and were treated with adoration, often idealized and sold as such through the media. They were literally "stars" and their lives were viewed as luxurious, classy and to die for in some cases. They were icons and representation of culture, power and elegance. In a way, they were treated as products. It was also common for them to put up fronts to make themselves seem more desirable and polished than they really were. Ugly aspects of their lives were kept hidden to continue selling that star image. That norm began to shift following Neptune in Scorpio (late 1955 - 1970).

💣 In Scorpio, 1955 - mid 1970:

Neptune moved into Scorpio. Consequently we saw the rise of rebellion & dark themes in media. Characters became more raw, and unfiltered but in a meaningful way. There was also a striking increase in sexual portrayal through songs, movies and art. Horror saw a rise in popularity as well. Think Rebel without a cause (1955) & Psycho (1960). Both iconic for stirring the pot in their own way. We also say a rise in counterculture & anti established themes in media (focused on the antihero) like in Bonnie & Clyde (1967) and Midnight Cowboy (1969 nice), and even in movies like The Graduate (it rubbed me the wrong way when I first watched it but that was literally the point; sexual disillusionment in a way). This era reconstructed the media making people question authority figures, and questioned morality in the process. Being the first to push boundaries and limitations.

💣 In Sagittarius, 1970s-1980s:

Neptune moved into Sagittarius early 1970 until 1984 then continuing into Aquarius in the late 90s. (Retrogrades between Capricorn throughout that time).

Here, we enter the "new wave" of media, through music and movies especially. Hippie culture and religious/spiritual practices also became more popular during this time. We saw the birth of "wilder" films and concept leaning into creativity, sci-fi, overindulgence and hedonism. Movies, media, & music became more widespread and available as there were more options and genres to choose from ( we saw the rise/birth/popularization of punk rock, hip-hop, heavy metal, reggae, electronic, funk & etc). Although there was still controversy surrounding media control (like studios & labels having power over their artists, them having to lip sync and filter a lot of the media, radical religious movements also took place to oppose the rise of that new age hedonism). Also, it was considerd cool not to care and have that laid back attitude amongst the younger generation of the time.

💣 In Aquarius, late 1990s to 2011:

Neptune entered Aquarius in 1998 untill late 2011 (retrogrades between Capricorn & Pisces throughout that time).

The internet really came down hard on people during this time and celebrities were considered public domain to be consumed and criticized. People wanted to be famous, but often became so through some sort of problematic (yet new & exciting) ways. Not giving a fuck was popular. Being problematic was popular.

A lot of people were jerks during this time and treated celebrities as such, often going for shock factors and stirring up controversy in any industry really. People were rather judgemental of each other but at the same time this is where we saw the popularization of individuality expressed through bizzare or standout aesthetics. We also saw the birth of revolutionary public figures, film & media and celebrities like Lady Gaga.

At the same time, South Park, the MTV craze, the whole Britney Spears controversy, Eminem, 4chan, obscure websites and internet icebergs, all of them were born or popularized during this time for having that jarring or rebellious ("cool & niche") aspect to it. The weirder or unhinged you were, the more you were seen. Controversy seemed to rule the online world in a way. Indie games (and games in general ) were also a dominating presence back then. People were kind of out of touch too following that plunge into Neptune in Pisces.

I read a reddit post about it here and honestly, I agree with what they were saying as it was evidently so especially online.

Here's a chart timeline of Neptune in the signs (including it's retrogrades from 1901-2026 from cayelincastell.com)

So to continue where we left off with Neptune in Aries:

🐏 Celebrities will no longer be worshiped but they will still have power over the world (just not the same way that it is now where boundaries are questioned). They'll be more expressive and experimental, abrasive even (claiming their right as individuals and not products to be scrutinized by the public or people online). Think Chappelle Roan advocating her rights and fighting back against disrespectful media representations being more rude. Same with Doja Cat and her whole rebrand (while it may have upset many of her fans).

🐏 Celebrities won't act like they owe anyone anything anymore but people will also start revolting against their influences. So we can expect more altercations surrounding that area as well.

🐏 Celebrity hate or drama could be amplified.

We'll likely see the rise of more masculine influence in art, movies, music, religion & spirituality. More men diving into Neptunian themes including music, religion or the occult (astrology, witchcraft & tarot). Idolizing powerful men or public figures.

🐏 Births or the appreance of "prophets" could be possible.

🐏 Independent brands gaining more traction & popularity.

🐏 Prominent activism.

🐏 Idolized brands going through rebrands or losing worth.

🐏 Women embracing a more agressive and powerful presence. People with significant Aries placements may be impacted significantly too (triggering a lot of inner fears or desires but also their creativity).

🐏 Movies could center around new & impactful stories, based on true events, more action, more drama, a reformation through the narrative or overall vibe of movies or animations, we may also see a rise in independent films again or maybe even movies that kind of suck ass or are straight up just "shocking" but get popular over that.

🐏 Movies that are hot & heavy, action packed or just something more real or raw (like live action and physical sets).

🐏 People may be less dependent on religion as well & instead will be focusing on individuality and personal power (which can be both good & bad depending on the context).

🐏 There may be conflict with certain religions (being stubborn or assuming power over the other) that part might be rather messy, but it's to be expected.

🐏 Agressive idealisms & false crusades (fighting for religious beliefs that are misleading).

🐏 Media or delusions being our reality.

🐏 More internet fights or calling people out, being more confrontational. Some sort of war or huge conflict may start as well. The last time Neptune was in Aries, the US went through Civil War.

🐏 People will respond more to power and authority (rather than spirituality, authoritarian figures will likely dominate this era). There's likely going to be some forcefulness at play as well. But rebellion, and stubbornness is more significant (especially since Pluto is in Aquarius).

🐏 Intense psychological battles will also ensue. Mayhaps many, many rude awakenings.

🐏 Neptune in Aries & Pluto in Aquarius is a lethal combination. Hah, expect more discourse online. Seems like a good part of the world is turning into a worldwide "Reddit", people correcting one another & putting their interests, ideas, and expressions above others. Either way, this new era is not for the weak or faint of heart. Brace for impact soldier!

Overall themes: War, independence, serving c*nt, body horror, death, stubbornness, arguments, wild & free experimental decisions, s*x, energy, power, drama, visceral emotional outbursts, things feeling real & consequential, contant taking (less giving).

This was my personal forecast for Neptune in Aries based on the prior evidence we had & measuring changes that i. occured

˚₊‧꒰ა paid readings available ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Signing out,

@northopalshore

#neptune in aries #Neptune transit #astrology blog #astrology notes #astro notes #astrology observations #astro observations #astrology content #astrology #astrology community #astrology ramblings #celebrity culture #internet culture #entertainment industry #transit astrology #transit charts #transit chart

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mariclerc · 1 year ago

Note

hey!... can you write a Charles × horner reader.. where the reader has a crush on since they met.... but Charles doesn't like her very much cuz he thinks she's a nepo baby... but the reader still tries to win his heart.... but one day after a bad race he lashed out on her.... breaking her heart.... later he realizes he also has fellings for her...then ask the reader for forgiveness and a second chance (pls make it a happy ending)... thank you ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for this request! It took me a little while to try to develop it, I hope you like it!! 💗💗

Second chance spark | cl16

Summary: where Charles thinks you're a nepo baby just because of your last name. Warnings: a little angst, horner!reader, christian being an asshole and fluffy fluff.

a/n: let me know if you want a part two!!

Part 2

The paddock of the Spanish Grand Prix is in big move, thousands of people moving from one place to another and there you find yourself, outside of the Red Bull hospitality talking to several of the girls on the team. This is what your life has become, practically, since being the daughter of Christian Horner you can walk around the hospitality and the paddock as many times as you like during the year.

Most people believe that you only walk around the paddock because it is a case of "nepotism", but in reality you are working very hard to be an engineer and earn a place in motorsport and that's why you find yourself doing internships at Red Bull. Also, your relationship with your father is not the best, so it is always a constant argument, but, even if you try not to give it so much importance, it always hurts.

“Oh god girls, look who's coming!” You say excitedly, Charles was walking through the paddock, to you he always looked like an angel, you blush slightly.

Mara, one of the Red Bull pr girls spoke. “Leclerc? Are you trying to charm the competition's sponsors I see.” she jokes and you blush a little.

You rolled your eyes. “Don't be ridiculous, he probably doesn't even know I'm here.” You say and a silence is present between the three of you. “I'm going to say hi.” You say determined.

Lila rise up an eyebrow. “Careful y/n. You don't want to spook the red prince.”

“Oh, please. Like he'd give me the time of the day.” you scoff.

You excuse yourself and stride confidently towards Charles. He notices your approach and his expression becomes guarded.

You've liked Charles since he debuted in the F4 European series, you always thought he was someone quite nice and talented... Besides of being cute, of course, but nothing ever happened between you, you were simply acquaintances. But now since you are always in the paddock you see him every single day and those feelings that you thought were already buried, were reborn with much more strength.

“Hello y/n. Didn't expect to see you here!” he smiles shyly.

“Well, I just came to say hi, a little greeting doesn't go amiss, don't you think?” you say shyly with a soft voice. “Are you nervous about the race?” you asked shyly.

“Yeah, uh, a little bit... But let's see how it goes.” he says trying to avoid your gaze.

“Well, you have a good shot, maybe you can achieve a podium finish.” You say and he looks at you surprised.

“You actually follow the races?” he asks.

You feign offense. “Of course I do, I'm trying to be an engineer! I may not be out there on the track like you and the boys, but I appreciate a good driver when I see one.” you smile brightly.

Charles looks at you for a long moment, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Just make sure you're cheering for the right team on race day in the future.” he says teasingly.

“We'll see about that, Leclerc.” you two share a comfortable silence for a moment. You take a deep breath. “Well, I'll leave you alone, I have to go. But good luck in the race, yeah?” You say with a small smile.

“Sure, see you later! And thanks!” he smiles too.

You smiled back and turned to leave, a triumphant glint in your eyes. Charles watches you go, a genuine smile gracing his features. His heart is probably beginning to soften to let you into it.

***

“Is seriously? You talked to him and he didn't think you were a little innocent girl?” Christian said sitting in his chair in the office.

You were at the Red Bull factory in Milton Keynes, you had gone to see some engineers and work with them since you are doing your engineer internship at Red Bull and they have been very generous to you, teaching you everything they know, what you didn't realize was that your father was going to need you to have a talk. Such talks never end well, let's put it that way.

“Well, no... But I think he was being nice.” you say quietly. “I just wanted to wish him good luck, that's all... Just a little greeting... it's not a big deal.”

“You know? It's amazing that you're so stupid and dumb.” He says getting up from his chair. “And also by talking to the enemy, you don't really learn, don't you?” he asked sharply.

He never misses the opportunity to speak badly about you on any occasion, he simply doesn't care about your feelings, he is only interested in the job, winning and that's it. As if that were more important than your well-being as his daughter.

You take a deep breath. “Then let me finish my internship in another team.” you said and he looked at you. “I think it would be better for both you and me. Don't you think?” you said in a whisper.

“What? You really want to finish your silly and stupid internship at Ferrari, right? To be after a man who doesn't give you attention, is it serious?” he says sarcastically, that wasn't your idea but since he puts it on the table it doesn't sound too bad... “How ungrateful you are, to waste the fact that I gave you the opportunity to do the internship here.”

“And it was the only thing you did.” you murmured. “Because, as far as I remember, you haven't done anything else.”

“What did you say, huh? You little bitch.” He said, raising his voice towards you.

“What you fucking heard! Do you think it's not difficult to be under your shadow every day? How tiring it is to have everyone tell you that you are a child of nepotism just because all you did was get me the internship here! And you know that I had to sacrifice many things to get here.” you said in screams, taking everything out of you, all the years of abuse and so on. “And don't come pretending to be a saint because we both know you're not.”

You leave his office and everyone looks at you, but you don't care, you couldn't allow your father to call you names and spoke to you in a not very nice way. Your tears blur your vision as you leave the factory and you run to your car, you feel as if you no longer have a weight on your shoulders, but at the same time you are afraid of what may happen later between the two of you.

***

A couple of weeks later, the Austrian Grand Prix is a blur of disappointment, specially for Charles, since he finished a distant third, strategy blunders costing him a shot at the win against Max. The Red Bull Hospitality is abuzz with post-race celebration, a stark contrast to the muted atmosphere in the Ferrari hospitality across the way.

You stand awkwardly near the doorway, your presence a silent question in the room. Charles sits alone, staring into the bottom of an empty beer glass, his face an iron mask of frustration. A knot of worry tightens in your stomach, that's not the Charles you know, always so cheerful and lively despite everything. It's another version of him, darker and more mysterious.

“Charles?” you asked softly.

He looks up, surprise flickering across his features before hardening back into a grimace.

“What are you doing here?” he said sharply.

“I...I just wanted to see if you were alright.” You say shyly.

His harsh tone stings, cutting through the fragile connection the two of you would built.

“Look y/n, I appreciate the concern, but I need to be alone.” he said sharply.

“But-” hurt creeps into your voice.

He interrupts with his voice rising. “No buts! Don't you get it? This is my job, my life! And today, I failed.”

Tears are pricking at your eyes. “I know it hurts, Charles, but you can't let it consume you.”

He stands abruptly, knocking his chair over with a clatter. “Easy for you to say! You don't have the pressure, the expectations hanging over your head like a damn guillotine! You have everything on a silver platter whenever and however you want!” he say furiously.

His words are a punch to the gut. The simmering tension between you and your father explodes in your mind.

“You think I don't know the pressure? Do you have any idea what it's like living under my father's shadow? To be constantly judged, to have every decision questioned?” you say with a shaking voice.

Charles stares at you, his anger momentarily eclipsed by surprise.

“I may not be a driver, but I understand this world, Charles... I understand the pressure.” You say as tears form in your eyes.

Your vulnerability hangs heavy in the air. Shame washes over Charles, realizing the depth of his lashing out.

“Y/n, I...” he said with a soft voice.

He reaches out, but you flinches back, a wall of hurt suddenly separating the both of you.

You take a shaky breath. “I think I should go.” you sigh tiredly. “Nice talk.”

You turn towards the door, your heart heavy with a mixture of disappointment and a newfound understanding of the burdens that the both of you share. You run out there with tears running down your cheeks, nothing could have been worse after what happened with your father, but now you lost a person you cared about despite everything.

***

The Italian Grand Prix is in full swing after the summer break. Mechanics scurry around the gleaming red Ferrari, the air thick with pre-race tension. Charles, however, finds himself distracted. He steals constant glances towards the Red Bull garage across the pit lane, searching for a familiar face.

He spots you, standing by Christian, your interaction is tense, your father screams at you while you just only nod at his words while holding a few tears in your shy eyes. A pang of fury shoots through Charles, followed by a wave of regret. His outburst in Austria hangs heavy in the air, a barrier he needs to break. He, despite everything, is moderately informed about what happened between you and your father thanks to Max, and it hurts him not to have approached you much sooner.

The pit lane opens to finally start the grand prix, snapping Charles back to reality. He throws on his helmet, a steely resolve replacing his earlier anxiety.

***

Charles finishes a strong second, the podium it's a little bit bittersweet. He emerges from the car, the cheers of the tifosi a distant echo. All he can think about is you.

He finds you in the Red Bull hospitality, a hesitant knock on the door of your office, announcing his arrival. The room falls silent as he enters.

You stand by the window, your back towards him. Your posture is stiff, but Charles can sense the tremor in your shoulders.

“Y/n?” he say quietly.

You turn slowly, your eyes guarded. The hurt in your gaze is a mirror to his own regret.

“Charles...” you say softly.

There's an awkward silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Charles takes a deep breath.

“I can't apologize enough for Austria. I... I was a complete idiot.” he says.

“Words don't erase the hurt, Charles.” you say in a low voice.

He takes a step closer. “I know. But I wanted you to know... these past few weeks, all I could think about was your words. About the pressure, about being judged... You opened my eyes to a side of you I never knew existed.” He reaches out, hesitantly offering his hand. “And in doing so, I realized... how much I care about you.”

You stare at his hand, then back at his face. A flicker of vulnerability crosses your features before you speak.

“You can't just say things like that, Charles. Not after everything.”

“I know, but I have to try. Because the alternative... the alternative is losing you completely.” says sincerely. He sees a flicker of emotion in your eyes, a flicker that speaks of hope.

“This won't be easy, Charles. My father... Things haven't been so smooth lately between him and I.”

“I know. But maybe, just maybe, we can face it together... Like you said, we both understand this world, the pressure. Maybe we can be each other's support system, not just through wins and losses, but through everything else.” he say softly.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You look at him, a question in your eyes.

“So, what are you saying?” you asked him.

Charles takes a chance, the weight of his feelings pulling him forward. He steps closer, your faces inches apart.

“I'm saying that... give me another chance, please. A chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve.” he whispers. “Please, if you want, I beg you on my knees... I'll do anything, but please give me a chance.”

The air crackles with unspoken emotions. You lean in, closing the distance between the both of you. At first, the kiss is hesitant and at the same time soft and slow, then deepens, a promise unspoken but understood.

Pulling away, Charles searches your soft eyes.

“Is that a yes?” he smiled while blushing.

You smile softly, a genuine smile that reaches your eyes.

“Maybe... How about we can do something casual between us, not business related, just to get to know each other better?” you say shyly.

A grin spreads across Charles' face, relief washing over him like a victory lap. “It's a deal darling.” you giggled.

He leans in for another kiss, the roar of the engines and the crowd outside a distant echo of the race that's just begun – the race for your hearts.

***

The air crackles with a different kind of tension now. You and Charles break apart from your long awaited kiss, foreheads resting against each other. Relief, hope, and a spark of defiance dance in your eyes.

“We should probably get going before someone sees us, don't you think?” you whisper shyly.

Charles nods, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He reaches for the door, ready to usher you out, but it swings open before he can touch it.

Standing in the doorway is Christian, his face a thundercloud. The celebratory atmosphere in the room evaporates, replaced with a chilling silence.

“Y/n! My office. Now.” he says with a strong and demanding voice.

You flinch, your body tensing and shaking at your father's tone, but Charles steps forward, his stance protective.

“Actually, she's not going anywhere Horner.” Charles says calmly.

Christian's gaze snaps to him, fury replacing the icy anger. “And who are you to tell me what to do in my own hospitality suite, Leclerc?” he scoffs.

“Someone who cares about her, a concept you seem to have forgotten.” Charles says with a hard and firm voice.

The room collectively gasps. You reaches out a hand to touch Charles' arm, a silent plea for caution. But Charles shakes you off gently, his green eyes boring into Christian's.

“You judge her, belittle her, just because of your own insecurities. You push her away with every harsh word and raised eyebrow.” Charles says defending you, maybe you and him weren't that close, but probably Max told him about what happened between you and Christian.

Christian lunges forward, his hand raised in a threatening gesture. But Charles doesn't back down, he catches Christian's wrist mid-air, his grip surprisingly strong.

“Don't. Even. Think. About. Touching. Her.” Charles says in a low, dangerous voice. “And if you do, you'll deal with me, is that clear?”

Christian throws Charles a withering look before turning and storming out of the room. The silence that follows is deafening. No one had ever spoken to your father that way, not even Max or Jos, but the fact that Charles was the first to do it was something... Shocking, especially for you.

You let out a shaky breath, your gaze flickering between the slammed door and Charles. “I... Charles.” you say in a shaky whisper.

He whispers back. “Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong sweetie.” he takes your hand in his. “He's such a jerk.” He pulls you towards the door, a newfound determination in his eyes. “We're leaving, now. We can deal with your father later, together, okay?” he says.

You hesitate for a moment, then you nodded in agreement, as you walk out of the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn and whispers follow. But you don't care anymore, you have each other, and that's all that matters.

You two step out into the cool evening air, the roar of the Italian crowd a distant hum. Your hands are intertwined, a silent promise against the warm setting sun.

You two may have a long road ahead, filled with challenges and disapproval, but you'll face it together, a united front against the storm.

“Thank you... For what you did in there.” You say softly, he smiles and brings your hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“It's nothing ma belle, I know I may not know the whole story since the begging, but I'm willing to help you.” he says the same in a whisper.

“I just want to know... Who told you about it?” you asked softly.

“Max told me.” He says and you laugh.

“I thought so! It doesn't bother me that he did it anyway.” you say and let out a giggle while you shake your head. “I think it's something you deserved to know.”

He smiles at you tenderly. “How about we forget this mess with your father with a good pizza, huh?” he says softly.

“And where would we go?” you shyly asked him.

“We can go to my hotel room... Unless you don't want to, I know it would be awkward but... I don't know, ugh.” He said and started babbling, you smiled seeing him like that, it seemed like the cutest thing of all, seeing him nervous about doing something simple with you.

You smiled and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. “I would love to eat pizza with you in your hotel room Charlie.” you say softly. “So it's a date?”

“It's a date.” He says softly as he kisses the tip of your nose and you giggle. “A date between Ferrari's golden boy and the red bull girl.” he says in a whisper while letting out a giggle.

You smiled tenderly. “You couldn't have said it better.” You whispered back.

To think that a couple of months ago you had not imagined that situation, to see Charles against your father and defending you like a true gentleman, but here you two were. Maybe at the beginning not everything was rosy or he simply didn't tolerate you at all due to false "nepotism" status around you, but you both understand how difficult and complicated this world is, maybe with different perspectives, but you two are there to support each other in the ups and downs.

#f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x horner!reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles x horner!reader #charles x reader #mariclerc fics #charles x you

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notapradagurl7 · 6 months ago

Text

Frosted Whispers.

Black Fem! Reader x Terry RichmondBillonaire! & Kelvin Harrison Jr.Billonaire!

Word Count: 3544k 😭

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, mention of burnout, praise, mention of favoritism, profanity, mention of wealth and power, fluff, soft Kelvin, soft Terry, voyeurism, toxic smut, confession, fingering, oral(male & female receiving) slight degradation, dominant duo, teasing, PWP, consensual for all parties, Kelvin and Terry are bosses but spoil the reader, unprotected sex.(wear protection)

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @life-in-the-slut-house @liatreads @sweettea-and-honeybutter @ovohanna24 @henneseyhoe @euphorichappiness10 @mightbeher @miguelspvssy @simplyzeeka @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @planetblaque @blackmoonchilee @slutsareteacherstoo @writingsbytee @nayaesworld @mymindisneverhere @sageispunk @slippinninque @babybratzmaraj @soft-persephone @keyera-jackson @amplifiedmoan @avoidthings

A/N: Happy holidays! I've been seeing these two on my timeline so much that I decided to write about these two cuties, here is a cozy, nasty Christmas gift from me to you! Enjoy! 🎄🤶 Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, feel free to ask for a request! ❤️

Summary: You were sent to a cozy cabin Christmas retreat in the secluded Rocky Mountains picked by two of your wealthy bosses Terry and Kelvin, for a much-needed break from the hustle and bustle of your corporate lives.

————

Ding. The notification you've been waiting for since September, you grabbed your phone from the dresser and your eyes scanned the text message from Mr. Richmond or Terry as you would call him outside of the workplace.

Terry.

We are on our way to pick you up, don't forget to wear a coat since it's gonna be snowing out there.

Your phone buzzed again, you giggled at Kelvin text in the group chat called “It's Work, right?”

Kelvin.🤣💞

Don't forget to be out of that house by the time we pull up🙄

You.

You ain't my daddy Kelvin,🙄🤣

Terry.😌💞

Kel, you play too damn much.

You grinned like a Cheshire cat from Alice In Wonderland, laughing at the messages, unlocking your phone and quickly sending a text back to the attractive man who was also your boss.

You.

Okay, can't wait to see both of you! I'll be waiting impatiently 🤣

Dressed in a warm toffee-colored turtleneck sweater and black pants, matching boots, and socks adorned your feet. Your brown box braids hung to your elbows, a beanie atop your pretty head.

Full of zeal you were for a much-needed break from work, luckily you chose to work from home. It was a private cozy cabin in the Rocky Mountains with your bosses Terry and Kelvin.

You worked diligently and consistently in a successful corporate business which was an LLC, owned by Terry’s father and Kelvin’s father through inheritance, which some would call a clear, cold case of nepotism. Turns out their fathers were the best of friends.

Some would call it a white boys club at that, but it wasn't at all, it was black-owned by two black men with black business workers there. It was certified for sure.

Let’s not forget that you worked for two very handsome men, but on the outside, they were strict yet fair to their employees. Knowing when to not take shit from anyone and ready to fire the ones who were douchebags, or being inappropriate to co-workers. Prematurely erased from the planet, and unable to find another job.

The men made sure to get tested and sent you the papers to prove it that they were both clean, you did the same and let them know that you were on the pill. You were glad they did it without complaining, they wanted to be honest with you.

Other co-workers accused Terry and Kelvin of favoritism, which only involved you since you were an assistant to them both, you didn't make excuses, and you arrived at work on time, and worked nights and days.

You earned an amazing amount of pay that allowed you to get in a great house in a safe neighborhood, and books you wanted to read, places you wanted to go. It was a dream come true.

Obviously, you didn't give a damn what other people said or thought of you. You knew that you worked hard to get where you needed to be, you didn't need to prove it to anyone.

Looking in the full-length mirror, making sure you look good for you self. You sure did as always.

“Damn, I look fine as hell and I'm nervous,” you mumbled.

You caught the sound of a horn honking cutting through your thoughts, you kissed your teeth and grabbed your pink duffle bag.

Hurried your way out of your house, turned on your alarm and locked the front door with quickness.

Kelvin leaned against the luxurious black truck with a sinful grin on his face, while Terry sat behind the wheel. Leaning in the seat as his eyes flicker toward you, chuckling at your almost lateness.

“Hurry your ass up, girl! The snow is probably melting by now!” Kelvin hollered with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully at them, as your movement was fast anyway, you've never been to the Rocky Mountains before, so seen that much snow.

This was your first taste of cabin living, the crisp snow crunched underneath your shoes and greeted you with the holiday season.

Normally, bosses and their employees weren't at good terms but it was different between you, Terry, and Kelvin. When they wanted to go to dinner, you agreed.

At first, it was about the benefits that came with being friends with Terry and Kelvin, but they turned out to be such sweethearts, normally some men wouldn't understand or try to get with co-workers but this was different.

“I’m coming, damn!” You yelled back, slinging your duffle bag over your shoulder.

Kelvin held out his hand like the gentleman he was, you passed your duffle bag to him. “What a perfect gentleman, thank you,” you replied, in a royalty-like tone.

He nodded and opened the door for you, in the backseat. “You’re welcome, after you, my lady,” he replied back, his tone in royalty-like.

You chuckled lightly, “Y’all are too much,” you said, shaking your head as you slid into the backseat.

The car was warm with the heat blowing at the right temperature, a stark contrast to the brisk winter air outside. Terry glanced back at you through the rearview mirror, his playful smirk softening into something more tender.

“You’re gonna love it up there, just you wait,” Terry chimed in, his voice smooth as melted chocolate.

“I’m sure I will, as long as you two don’t start acting like children,” you teased, leaning back comfortably against the plush leather seats.

Kelvin turned slightly in his seat, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Who, us? Never. We’re perfect angels,” he said, feigning innocence. But you knew better.

“Right, and I’m the Queen of England,” you retorted, crossing your arms playfully.

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “You know you love it. Besides, you’re the one who’s been working your ass off. You deserve this break.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it’d come with a side of y’all acting like complete goofballs,” you replied, rolling your eyes playfully.

The car came to a stop in the clear driveway, before you can reach for the door handle, Terry opened the door for and stepped out. Thanking him with a warm tone and you passed your bag to Kelvin, while you smiled at him.

The cabin was nestled at the base of a mountain, surrounded by the whispering pines dusted in white. The moment you stepped out, the air felt crisp and fresh, invigorating.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you breathed, taking in the stunning view.

Terry stepped out beside you, his tall frame casting a long shadow. “Welcome to our little winter wonderland,” he coaxed, a proud grin spreading across his face.

Kelvin joined you, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his playful demeanor shifting slightly, as if he was soaking in the serenity. “And we’ve got all the comforts of home. Hot cocoa, a fireplace, and—” he paused dramatically, “—a fully stocked kitchen.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “I might just make you both work.”

“Now, that’s the spirit!” Kelvin laughed, nudging you playfully. “But only if you promise not to burn anything.”

“Ha! Very funny,” you shot back. “I’m not that bad.”

Terry leaned closer, lowering his voice. “We’ll see about that. Just remember, if you burn something, you’re on dish duty.”

You laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet woods. As the three of you made your way to the cabin, a sense of warmth and comfort enveloped you. Kelvin unlocked the door and nudged it, You walked in first while Kelvin and Terry followed behind you.

Inside, the cabin was just as cozy as you imagined, the fireplace crackling and casting flickering shadows on the walls. It was breathtaking, biting down on your lip.

“Let me show you to your room,” Kelvin chimed in, his tone shifting to something softer, more sincere. “We want you to feel at home here.”

You followed him down a short hallway, feeling your pulse quicken slightly as he opened the door to a beautifully decorated room.

“Wow, this is amazing,” you exclaimed, stepping inside. The space was adorned with plush blankets and twinkling fairy lights, presents on the bed with your name on them.

“All for you,” Kelvin exclaimed, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze steady. “We wanted you to feel special.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, warmth flooding your cheeks. “You guys really didn’t have to do all this,” you said, turning to him.

“Of course we did,” Terry chimed in from behind you. “You work harder than anyone I know. You deserve it.”

You felt like a queen in a storybook, soon to be courted by two kings who wanted to give you the world that was created by only them.

You turned to him, finding his gaze sincere and deep, something settling in your chest. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot.”

“Good, now go get settled. We’ll be right out here,” Kelvin added, his voice dipped low, almost intimate.

As you closed the door, you took a deep breath, feeling the excitement and tension swirl in the air. You felt like you were on the edge of something new, something thrilling. You took off your coat and beanie, throw it in the dresser, take off your shoes and slide on some slippers.

After unpacking, you joined them in the living room, where they were both lounging on the couch watching a movie from the 2000s, a bottle of wine and glasses waiting on the coffee table.

“Join us?” Terry asked, his dark eyes inviting.

“Absolutely,” you smiled, taking a seat between them, feeling the warmth radiate from their bodies. Grabbing a champagne glass from Terry.

“You know, we’ve been talking,” Kelvin began, his voice a low rumble.

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh really? What’s this about?”

Terry leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends. It’s about time we show you how much we value you.”

“Let me guess, it's time for me to unwrap my gifts in my room.” you teased, giggling a bit.

Terry darkly chuckled with a smirk, watching you sip from your glass. You sat in between them on the couch. Patiently waiting for what they had to say to you. “You can say that,”

“We have mustered up the courage to tell you that we both have feelings for you, if you don't feel the same way then we completely understand,” Kelvin confessed with gentleness in his time.

Obviously you liked both of them, could you be with them both without a scandal? You would have to quit your job or would they fire you? They wouldn't, A throuple would be the appropriate label.

You shook your head trying to brush off those thoughts away and enjoy this moment with them.

“I don't want to choose, I rather have both of you, Terry and Kelvin, you've been on my mind for quite some time now, but I want to keep it on the low at work, I need my job,” you confessed.

Terry and Aaron exchanged looks before nodding, “Understandable but if this ever goes out then we will protect you,” he said in a reassuring tone.

“Have you been naughty or nice this year beautiful?” Terry chimed in, his eyes roaming your body.

A smile etched on your face, placing your hand on the nape of his neck, “I think I have been good this year,”

“Can I get a kiss from my girl?”

“Your girl? You mean our girl right?”

After that, Terry kissed your lips deeply, while Kelvin slid off your sweater, he began to take off his tee shirt. Unhooking your bra and throw it across the room, your breasts poked out swiftly, he kissed your cheek as you broke the kiss with Terry, causing the male’s face to twist up.

A sinful smirk etched on Kelvin’s face, “What? You could get all the damn attention from our girl?”

“Is that a challenge I hear?” Terry asked him.

Terry slides off his sweater, unbuckling his belt and freed his dick with your hand grabbed it gently eliciting a grunt from him.

“Would you like a taste?” Terry coaxed darkly.

“Can I eat you out while you're sucking him off?” Kelvin asked, kissing your neck and sucking your skin to leave a hickey.

“Yes, please,” You replied with a seductive tone, kissing his lips twice.

You took him eagerly in your mouth, using your hand to stroke him from what you couldn't fit in your mouth, sucking him off and Kelvin took off his clothes. Rubbing your breast and pinching your nipple, “Kel…mhm..” you moaned again.

With your consent, Kelvin gently slid your purple panties from your ankles, grabbing underneath your knees and resting them on his shoulders. His lips kissing your clit sweetly eliciting muffled moans from you. You sent vibrations on Terry’s thick length, bopping your head while Kelvin’s fingers slid between your wet folds. “So fucking wet, this shit is turning you on?” he asked.

“Suck that shit baby, you're doing so well for me,” Terry groaned, pushing his hips into the warmth of your mouth. Closing his eyes to relish in every moment.

That only made Kelvin work harder with his mouth, his tongue tracing shapes on your throbbing clit and thrusting his fingers in and out of you skillfully, your essence spurting out on his wrist and moaning onto Terry’s dick. “You taste so fucking good,” Kelvin moaned onto your pussy.

On the verge of a climax, you and Terry felt the knot untighten, his warm jets of cum poured onto your tounge causing you to swallow every bit of him, pulling his dick out. “You did an amazing job,” Terry praised, You moaned loudly at Kelvin still eating you out.

Your hips rolled against his mouth, your head fell back onto the armrest. Your essence poured onto Kelvin’s mouth, swallowing every drop of you. Hand resting on the nape of his neck, “Just like that, you're both are so good to me,” you babbled softly, hearing a slurping noise from him.

Kelvin moved his head away and looked up at you with a smirk, “You deserve the better, my love,” he cooed, cupped your face and kissed you passionately yet deeply, your tongue slipped in with his. Pulling away with a soft smack.

“My turn,” Kelvin playful sang before kissing your lips sweetly.

Kelvin lifted you effortlessly and sat comfortably on the couch, your hand resting on his shoulders with his hands gripping your hips. Sliding you onto his dick gradually and filling you completely. “Damn, I'm buying an engagement ring next time,”

Your mouth parted wide, pulling him close in a tight bear hug, you kissed him sloppily, “Strange way to propose..yess,” you cried out, his hips moved yours, creating a slapping sound similar to a gunshot.

“Oh fuckkk! Kelvin!” You cried out, eyes rolling back. Hips rolling against him as your body shook with pleasure. Kelvin watched your essence pooled around his dick, he groaned out your name like a seductive song, watching you fall apart after every stroke.

He laid you down on your back and you grabbed the couch armrest for dear life, fucking you like he had something to prove, he rutted into you and Terry watched with a smirk, your reactions to Kelvin’s thrusts turned him on. “Oh yes! Shit!” you cried again, nails scratched his back eliciting a hiss from him.

Terry’s lush lips took your nipple in his mouth with genuine care, your hand rested on the nape of his neck. Your hips rolled against Kelvin’s thick dick, screaming out their names to the mountains.“T-Terry…Kelvin..baby, you make me feel so gooddddd,” you babbled, tears falling down your cheeks.

Terry’s finger rubbed your clit in circles, and you whimpered his name again. “Damn, you’re so perfect,” Kelvin groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he thrust into you deeper, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Such possessive men they were, your attention and your love were their oxygen. Couldn't live without it.

Terry looked up from your breast, his dark eyes glinting with pride. “You’re taking him so well, baby. You’re such a good girl,” he praised, his voice low and sultry, sending shivers down your spine.

“Y-yes, I’m trying baby,” you stuttered out, trying to keep your composure as both men lavished you with attention.

Kelvin leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You feel so damn good wrapped around me. I could stay here forever,” he whispered, his voice thick with lust.

“Me too,” you breathed, losing yourself in the moment as you rocked your hips against his, feeling his length hit the perfect spot inside you. “Please don’t stop.”

“Never,” he replied, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic. You could feel the tension building within you, the knot tightening in your belly as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

Terry’s mouth moved from your nipple to your ear and cupped your breast, his hot breath sending another wave of arousal through you. “Let go for us, baby. We’re right here,” he murmured, his fingers still working expertly on your clit, teasing and coaxing you towards your release.

With a few more thrusts and Terry’s skilled fingers, you felt the world around you blur. You cried out as the pleasure peaked, your body trembling as you came undone. “I’m cumming!” you screamed, your nails digging into Kelvin’s shoulders as the waves of ecstasy washed over you.

“That’s it, baby girl. Let it all out,” Kelvin urged, his own release following closely as he buried himself deep inside you, filling you with his cum completely.

Terry’s fingers continued to work on your clit, coaxing out every last bit of pleasure until you were panting, your body still quivering from the intensity of your orgasm. “Terry…please, Kelvin!” you cried out.

As Kelvin collapsed beside you, still catching his breath, Terry leaned over to kiss you softly, his lips brushing against yours tenderly. “You did so amazing, sweetheart,” he whispered, his eyes sparkling with affection.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “I couldn’t have done it without both of you,” you replied, a smile spreading across your face as you glanced between the two of them.

Kelvin chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, feeling a sense of belonging and happiness you hadn’t experienced before.

“Next time, we should try the hot tub outside,” Kelvin suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Only if you promise to keep the hot cocoa flowing,” you teased back, feeling the playful banter return.

“Deal,” Terry chimed in, his arm tightening around you, making you feel safe and cherished.

“A hot bath for our favorite girl?” Kelvin asked with a grin, picking up you in his arms, and carrying you to the bathroom. You nodded weakly.

“Make sure it's on the right temperature, nigga.” Terry shouted out, rolling his eyes. They pulled up their pants and followed behind Kelvin. Cleaning up the place immediately.

The white marble curved bath tub was filled with heat and soapy foam, you sighed in bliss. Terry passed your favorite book with a bookmark in between and kissed your forehead, “Enjoy, Empress,” he said before closing the door.

You freshened up, dried off, and applied lotion. You wore a loose t-shirt and leggings. you sauntered back into the clean living area, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

As you entered, you found Terry and Kelvin lounging comfortably on the couch, both looking up at you with amused expressions.

"Look who decided to grace us with her presence," Terry teased, a playful smirk on his face.

"Had to make sure I was all clean and cute for my two favorite bosses," you replied, winking at them as you sank onto the couch beside Kelvin.

"Cute is an understatement," Kelvin remarked, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of desire. "You look absolutely stunning."

"Thanks, I appreciate it,” You smiled, sitting in between them.

For the rest of the night, you cuddled close to them with warm blankets and classic Christmas movies, and hot cocoa. Treated like the queen that are you.

#black!reader #black fanfiction #aaron pierre #terry richmond #kelvin harrison jr.#rebel ridge #rebel ridge fic #kelvin harrison jr x reader #terry richmond x black reader #black writer

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lady-ephemeral · 7 months ago

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Do y’all ever think about the Gortash and Raphael parallels?

I am still SO salty that BG3 didn’t dive deeper into Raphael, Mephistopheles, and Gortash, because I feel like it could’ve been a phenomenal addition to the game since one of the main themes is the cycle of abuse, and whether or not you choose to continue it.

We can infer that Raphael and Mephisto don’t have a stellar relationship. In fact it was likely very abusive, and probably the driving force behind Raphael’s narcissistic behavior (If no one at all cares for me, then I will be all I care about).

And even though he is technically the heir the archduke, and that certainly gives him an advantage, Raphael is still a cambion, not a full devil. Cambions are looked down upon for their mortal half, and most end up just working for another archdevil. And since they are immortal, being an heir I feel would function more as just an additional title, rather than something with great weight. Raphael is a special case because he seems to be rather independent compared to someone like Mizora, who heavily relies on staying in Zariel’s good favor. Whether or not there was nepotism at play, Raphael still most likely had to do a tremendous amount of work to get where he is.

And then we have Gortash, who starts from practically nothing. Before even entering the House of Hope, he was already at a disadvantage. He was abused by the Flymms, and then he lived in literal hell with Raphael as the only adult figure that even slightly resembles a parent before getting out and once again having to start with nothing. He had to literally claw and fight to get where he is.

Raphael and Gortash are very similar characters with very similar goals, both tenacious, ambitious and heavily rely on their wits. Gortash wants to conquer Baldur’s Gate and then beyond, Raphael wants to conquer the nine hells. Even their styles are somewhat reminiscent of each other, with Enver’s ostentatious clothes seemingly being influenced by Raphael’s taste. This is especially clear if you look at the concept art for the characters.

Like you can see the resemblance. (Also Larian PLEASE give Gortash back his thigh-high boots)

The setup is already there, WHY didn’t they lean more into it? Both Raphael and Enver would have that feeling of “I fucking despise you. I absolutely loathe you, but I want you to see me. I want you to look upon what I’ve achieved and give me the respect I’m owed”.

Like there is no doubt in my mind that the way Raphael sees Gortash is similar to the way Mephisto sees him.

Even if it had been through diary entries and letters, it would've been nice to see more of this, and it would’ve developed both Raphael and Gortash more. Mephistopheles wouldn’t even need to make an appearance (although he would’ve been cool to see. the worse the father the hotter he is as a dilf, I don’t make the rules)

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #bg3 enver gortash #lord enver gortash #bg3 #enver flymm #enver gortash #baldur's gate 3 raphael

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reccyls · 2 months ago

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Victor's Main Route: Mad Love Chapter 25 + His POV Story

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Epilogue >

If life were a fairy tale… After the loss of Liberator and the four executives, the fall of Nox Liberator would have been over in an instant.

Members of Nox Liberator, officially designated a terrorist organization, were detained at a rally early in the morning. All members were arrested, including those connected to the bombing incidents. They were detained at the Tower of London, awaiting trial. Furthermore, a large quantity of weapons and bombs were discovered hidden beneath their meeting locations. Their complicity in various crimes, ranging from extortion and nepotism to human trafficking, was uncovered one after another. The scope of the investigation was beyond Scotland Yard’s capabilities, and the case was abandoned. However, the nobles behind those acts had already been discovered and condemned by Crown. Furthermore, Ben Brown, known as Liberator, was discovered having died of suicide in his residence outside of London. After learning of his demise, members of Nox Liberator cried out in anguish, with some choosing to take their own lives as well. Without Liberator to lead them, the group collapsed entirely, and the curtain closed on the case of Nox Liberator.

(But that doesn’t extinguish their will.)

Victor, as well as the rest of Crown, knew that well. That was why the remaining members of Nox Liberator were being monitored very closely still.

(Currently, they seem too upset over Ben’s death to be able to think about anything else…)

But as sorrow morphed into fury, it could lead to further incidents in the future.

(Ben and the other executives were using the members of Nox Liberator to make their own desires come true.)

Although the executives worshipped Ben and generally agreed with his vision, They saw the commoner members of Nox Liberator as disposable, going as far as to harm and even kill them. Ben incited Nox Liberator to act because he was deluded that it would ‘free’ Victor, And thus allow Victor to guide and liberate him.

(Even though a republic means that the people have a say in the government, the common people weren’t a part of the ideals that Ben and the executives were working toward.)

There was a mastermind and nobles, and then the commoners and the poor. Although Nox Liberator claimed to want to establish a republic government for the people, The fact that there were such a stark divide between the group’s members made me think they were doomed to fail from the very beginning.

(But this is reality.)

Differences in thought caused by differences in station led to discrimination and inequality. Victor knew that, which was why he worked so hard to create a future where everyone, regardless of position, could be happy. My hands stopped moving, and I looked over my finished work while sighing. Victor’s report was finally ready.

…

A calm had settled over Crown’s castle after everything had come to a finish. Nothing should have been different than before, but the atmosphere felt lighter, somehow. As the sun began to sink, I made my way to where I needed to go: The office that I had so frequently visited over the course of this past month. I knocked on the door and entered, but Victor was nowhere to be found.

(Is he out on business?)

I placed my report on his desk, and couldn’t resist the urge to review it once more. The report was about everything I had experienced since meeting him. And the last few lines were the single conclusion I could come to, after having come to know him.

This report contains Crown’s most important secret. The person it is about probably doesn’t want any trace of this report to remain in this world. And so, I leave the matter of what is to be done with this report to the person in question. Even if this report is buried in the dark to be forgotten by the world, I will still remember. Because I love you.

(This is less like a report and more of a love letter…)

I wrote of how I started to know him, how I fell in love, how I realized that he had been protecting me for so long, how I wished for us to have a future together, and how I wished for his happiness above all else. To someone on the outside, this report which contained neither his name nor ability seemed to be one long love letter.

(But he still wouldn’t want this to exist.)

I knew how Victor was determined for his existence to die without leaving even the slightest trace in the annals of history. So that was why I left the decision of what to do with this report up to him. I picked up a piece of scrap paper and found a pen, intending to leave a note with the report. But I couldn’t bring myself to put down the note which said “Thank you for everything.”

(Even if he tells me to my face to leave, I don’t want to.) (I want to stay with Victor… but…)

The girl who dropped her glass slipper and was found by the prince was still a noble, even if she was covered in soot and ashes. So was the girl revived after eating a poison apple, or the girl who woke after a century of slumber. Unlike me, they were princesses. I agonized over whether or not to leave the note, when…

???: Vic, it’s me. Are you there?

The door swung open, revealing a familiar face.

William: What are you doing here, Kate?

I hurriedly hid the note behind my back, and William continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

William: Oh, right. This is the promised day, isn’t it?

His tone was serious.

William: You’ll stop working as Fairytale Keeper and return to your old life. Are you going to go along with that?

Kate: I…

I hesitated to answer. My heart knew what it wanted, but my brain knew that reality wasn’t so sweet.

Kate: If I get rejected because of the difference in our social status, I’d have to leave…

Unable to look William in the eye, my gaze dropped.

William: Who do you think would reject you?

Kate: …The people around him, or just people in general, I guess.

Giving me a glance as I mumbled, William sat down in a chair.

William: Have you met Victor yet?

Kate: No, not today…

He crossed his legs and a smile rose to his lips.

William: You should speak with him either way. William: You know better than anyone else where he’d be, don’t you?

I thought hard about the places Victor would usually be around this time, but my mind came up blank. Seeming amused, William continued speaking.

William: Kate, do you like fairytales?

Kate: I do. But why do you ask?

His question surprised me.

William: If life were a fairytale, what should you do to be happy?

Don’t do bad things. (+2/+4)

Believe in people.

Wait for a prince.

Kate: Don’t do bad things?

William: I’m sorry to say, but there are many people who are very happy to do all sorts of wicked deeds. William: If life were a fairytale, achieving happiness would be simple.

He raised his index finger in front of his lips and grinned.

William: Don’t do what you shouldn’t.

Kate: What I shouldn’t…?

William: Don’t enter the forbidden woods. William: Don’t open doors that should remain shut. William: Don’t discover secrets that should have stayed hidden. William: Don’t fall into a forbidden romance.

(Oh…)

I recalled the words Victor said to me the night I first arrived here.

Victor: If you wish to return to your old life after this month is over… you must not let them steal your heart.

Crown was made up of Cursed Ones, each fated to meet a tragic end. To fall in love with them would not lead to the blissful happily ever after that young maidens dreamed of.

(I was warned from the very first day, but he completely captured my heart.)

When I let out an ironic laugh, William put his hand down.

William: But that’s not necessarily a rule you must follow to achieve happiness.

Kate: Huh?

When I looked up at him, he laughed.

William: Because this isn’t a fairytale, Kate. This is the story of your life.

-----

After parting ways with William, I returned to my bedroom to find the suitcase I had been in the middle of packing missing.

Kate: Wha-!?

The clothes he had gifted me, my precious music box, that opal brooch. I had packed them all away in that suitcase, which had vanished into thin air.

(No way… where could it be…?)

I frantically looked around my room, searching for my belongings.

Kate: Ah…

Sitting on my desk was a note written in familiar handwriting.

Kate: “I’ve helped myself to your suitcase. If you want it back, you’ll need to find me!”

I burst out of my room after reading Victor’s message. But no matter how much I searched…

(I can’t find him anywhere!)

I ran all over Crown castle and the palace. I even returned to his office to look in his bedroom, and he wasn’t there either.

(He isn’t at any of his usual haunts. Is there anywhere else…?)

I wracked my brain for an idea, any idea at all. I had never expected that I’d be running around the palm of his hand on my very final day. Running through my memories, I checked off places he could be. Until at last, I realized there was one more place I hadn’t searched yet. I ran out of the castle to catch the first carriage I came across.

-----

I arrived at the ruined church. Careful not to step on any rubble, I made my way inside. However…

(He’s not here…)

All I saw was moonlight pouring in on the cracked altar at the church’s center.

(If he isn’t here, then I don’t know anymore.)

Holding back my tears as my shoulders shook, I took a step closer to the altar. The note I had been carrying all this time slipped from my fingers and drifted to the floor. But before I could pick it up, a hand reached out to take it.

Kate: Vic… tor…

After reading what it said, he turned his dark gaze to me.

Victor: Do you mean it?

I was overjoyed to find Victor and be able to see him again. But the inner conflict that I couldn’t put into words before swirled in my chest again. Tears filled my eyes again, for a different reason than earlier.

Kate: I don’t want to cause any more trouble to you than I already have.

That fear had always been lurking in my heart.

Kate: The longer I stay with you, the more I start wanting.

I wanted to be with him, I wanted him to love me, I wanted him to be happy. It was so easy to let my emotions get the better of me.

Kate: But most of all, I just want you to be happy.

I could no longer hold back my tears. Against my wishes, they rolled down my cheeks.

Kate: I love you, I love you so much I don’t have enough words to tell you how much. Kate: But that’s exactly why I can’t be by your side. I have nothing I can offer you.

Through my unending tears, Victor smiled sadly.

Victor: Those aren’t the words of the person who had given me the one thing I could hold onto, even after I had given up everything else.

He whispered softly as his thumb gently wiped away my tears. And then–

Victor: I just canceled the lease on your apartment today.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: I have a resignation letter for your position at the post office too. Both of them only need your signature to be finalized.

Kate: What?

Victor: Your suitcase is in my room. I plan to bring over the rest of your things too, once you agree.

Kate: Umm…

I was so confused by what was happening I forgot I was supposed to be crying. His hand moved from my cheek to my neck and collar, stroking gently.

Victor: My fated end is to “bring destruction to those I love.” Victor: If you choose to live with me, there is no other end that awaits you other than ruin. Victor: But, if, even despite that, you choose to meet that destiny with me… Victor: The darkness will gladly welcome you.

Victor: But if you choose to meet that destiny with them… Victor: The darkness will gladly welcome you.

Realizing that it was the same thing he said to me a month ago, my lip began to tremble.

(Why did I never realize until now?)

Victor had always been waiting for my choice.

(So now-)

His hand was still resting gently against my neck. I clasped my own hands around his. I was choosing my destiny of my own free will.

Kate: Even if destruction is all that awaits me, if it’s with you, I could think of no finer heaven.

Affection filled his gaze as he smiled, pulling loose the ribbon of my blouse.

Kate: Whoa!

He pushed me down onto the altar, laying on top of me.

Victor: I can no longer let you go. Victor: I love you, Kate.

Instead of replying to my beloved, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

(If life were a fairytale…)

William’s words echoed in my mind.

(But he was right. This isn’t a fairytale.) (This is the story of the life that I choose.)

Victor: Don’t think about anything else.

Kate: Ah…

He had a wicked smile on his face as I told him what William had said to me earlier today.

Victor: In that case, this is how our story goes.

With his hand gently cradling my head, he began to speak.

Victor: Once upon a time, the grim reaper was saved by the words of a young girl, and resolved to bear his duty to his last breath. Victor: But after encountering that girl again and saving her life, he realized that there was something he could not give up, and began to watch over her from the shadows. Victor: And on their third meeting, the reaper finally came to take her.

He smiled.

Victor: He wished, with all his heart, that this was destiny.

Smiling back at him, I continued our tale.

Kate: The girl gladly took the reaper’s hand, and began to walk a path of destruction with him. Kate: Until death itself came to part them, they would remain together, unchanging.

His soft, smiling lips descended, and I let my eyes slide shut.

Victor: For as long as I love you, I wish the end will never come. Victor: All I wish for… is an eternity with you.

And so I shared a kiss with the reaper.

This was the story that had already been written since the day we first met. A story known as destiny.

His POV Story: A Vow with Destiny

If life were a fairy tale, it would be easy to achieve happiness. All we had to do was make up our minds. I looked at the suitcase and documents that I had gathered in my room, and smiled. It was Kate’s promised day, and I had chosen not to let her leave.

(Well, if she says she wants to go back to her old life, then I’ll have to accept it.)

I remembered how she cried last night.

Kate: I love you, Victor. Kate: I have always loved you, and only you.

I had been awake then, and remembered how hard she had clung onto me. That was when I made my choice.

(I will never let you go.)

Although I had originally pushed her away for the sake of her happiness, her feelings changed everything. Her body, and her heart. I would take it all. What I had chosen to do last night was how I wanted to make that clear.

Victor: But I don’t think she got the message…

My shoulders slumped. But as I thought back on my actions up to that point, I realized something. I had never, not even once, told her I loved her. Last night would have been the perfect time. But I had been so nervous and giddy to spend the night with her that I had let myself get carried away. The night passed and morning came, and by the time I had woken up, Kate had already left. The only thing left in my room was my shame.

(And I call myself an adult…) (It’s all because you’re too adorable, you know…)

In order to turn things around, I spent the entire day avoiding my work and putting together a plan to get rid of any obstacles between us. I had obtained a resignation letter for the post office for Kate, as well as a document to terminate the lease for her apartment. And I arranged things so that both her employment and her lease could be immediately ended once she signed both agreements. Then I broke into Kate’s room, stole her half-packed suitcase, and left a note for her. Once I received her permission, I planned to move the rest of her things into my room.

(This is probably a bit extreme, but it’s the best way to show her I’m serious.)

Words were not enough to respond to the love she had shown me over the past weeks. So I decided to take action, instead.

(Speaking of which, where is Kate now?)

I could have put together as many plans as I wanted, but nothing could begin without the lady of the hour. So I left my room and made my way to my office. And there, sitting in a chair, was William. Although he didn’t know of the existence of this secret passage, he didn’t seem particularly surprised.

(I shouldn’t have expected anything else from William…)

William: If you’re looking for Kate, she just left.

He laughed lightly and stood up as he read the expression on my face. Then he pointed to my desk.

William: She left a report for you. She was afraid you’d kick her out, you know.

Victor: I’d never…

As I picked up the report, he continued to speak with an amused grin.

William: Hey, Vic. If life were a fairytale, what should you do to be happy?

I didn’t even have to think.

Victor: It’s simple. Just make a choice, and see it through. Victor: Even if it leads to you being hurt, or hurting others, you must be ready to face your fate.

Perhaps my answer pleased him. He turned around.

William: You had better go find her, quickly.

And with one last laugh, he left the office. Alone in my office, I began reading the report Kate had left. As I read through page after page, I relived the memories of the month we spent together. It was more like a love letter than it was a report.

Victor: …I am loved, aren’t I.

(But unfortunately, I couldn’t let this love letter-report continue to exist.)

The risk of the queen’s secret being revealed was too great. And I did not wish for any record of my existence to remain in history.

Victor: …Just like how you said you won’t forget me, I will remember this too.

After committing the report to memory, I threw it into the fireplace.

Victor: I will remember every single word.

Memories lived on forever within the heart.

-----

After running here and there in a frantic whirlwind, Kate left the castle and took a carriage. I heard about her actions from the head butler, so I went after her, guessing that she was headed to the church of our memories.

(There she is.)

Just as I was about to call out to her as she approached the altar, A small note slipped out of her hand. I quickly picked it up before she was able to, and she lifted her tearful face to meet my gaze.

Kate: Vic… tor…

After reading what it said, shame at my own foolishness flooded through me.

Victor: Do you mean it?

Kate: I don’t want to cause any more trouble to you than I already have.

(When have you ever caused me trouble?)

I was about to tell her exactly that, but she cut me off.

Kate: The longer I stay with you, the more I start wanting. Kate: But most of all, I just want you to be happy.

A tear slid down her cheek.

Kate: I love you, I love you so much I don’t have enough words to tell you how much.

Those words came so easily to Kate.

Kate: But that’s exactly why I can’t be by your side. I have nothing I can offer you.

(You’ve given me so much, and yet…)

I brought my hand to her face so I could wipe her tears away with my thumb.

Victor: Those aren’t the words of the person who had given me the one thing I could hold onto, even after I had given up everything else.

(If I don’t tell her now, when?)

Victor: I just canceled the lease on your apartment today.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: I have a resignation letter for your position at the post office too. Both of them only need your signature to be finalized.

Kate: What?

Victor: Your suitcase is in my room. I plan to bring over the rest of your things too, once you agree.

Kate: Umm…

I let my hand drop from her cheek to her neck, running my fingers across her skin. It was time to tell her something important.

(I have been waiting for you to choose me since the very first day.)

She put her hands around mine.

Kate: Even if destruction is all that awaits me, if it’s with you, I could think of no finer heaven.

Her words filled my heart with warmth, and I tugged at the ribbon around her neck.

Kate: Whoa!

I pushed her onto the altar.

Victor: I can no longer let you go. Victor: I love you, Kate.

Instead of a reply, Kate wrapped her arms around my neck.

Victor: Don’t think about anything else.

Kate: Ah…

I could tell her mind was on something else. She told me about a conversation she had with William.

Victor: In that case, this is how our story goes.

I cradled her head, reflecting on the story of our lives.

Kate smiled and continued our tale.

Kate: The girl gladly took the reaper’s hand, and began to walk a path of destruction with him. Kate: Until death itself came to part them, they would remain together, unchanging.

I slowly lowered my lips to her smile.

Victor: For as long as I love you, I wish the end will never come. Victor: All I wish for… is an eternity with you.

My “destiny” smiled, and then she laughed joyfully.

#ikemen villains #my translation #victor (ikevil)

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daisy-01-blog · 5 months ago

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Busy woman! (Boss!Gojo x co-worker! fem! reader)

SMUT

MINORS DNI

A/N: Happy Valentine lovelies! stream busy woman by Sabrina Carpenter!

It's valentine's day and you're thinking of killing yourself. Everyone seem so happy and you're just so fucking miserable. You recently ended things with your one year boyfriend.

You noticed how life has been too good for you these months, should’ve known something like this is going to happen.

You got a promotion on your job!, and your boyfriend bought you a car as a present! life’s perfect.

Too perfect.

Turns out he bought it for you since he’s feeling guilty, because he’s been cheating on you. It has been a year, does it mean nothing to him?

You sold all his presents (except for the car), and on some days you just cried from the hurt.

Now it’s Valentine’s day, and you feel sick seeing all these people.

They’re going to break up one day! Does it not matter? your heart clenched as you went to your office. This is so stupid.

***

“(Y/N), the boss is calling for you in his office” your co-worker told you.

You frown, did you mess up your report again? you scoff as you went inside his office.

Gojo Satoru is your boss, just your usual nepotism baby who got this company from his dad. You wouldn’t admit it, but he actually manages this company pretty well.

You’re not close with him, just like the other co-worker isn’t close with him

“I need a favor” he said to you

“And that is?” you asked him

"Go out with me" Gojo said

"What?"

"Fake" he clarifies "be my fake date"

You frowned “is this some kind of joke?” you muttered. Why did he need a fake-date for?

“It’s Valentine’s day” he mutters “and my family has been begging me to bring a girlfriend with me on family dinner today”

“So?” you said “can’t you say no or something?”

He sighed “he’ll mutate me to another company of his if I didn’t bring anyone”

“What!” you said

He huffs “I already like this place” he mutters “I’m already familiar with the people too, there’s no way I’ll leave” he said.

You nodded “fine, just for a week right?”

He grins “if that’s the case, let’s practice”

You blink “practice what?”

***

A few minutes later, he’s kissing your lips and you-you didn’t know why you didn’t push him off. You guys are literally still in his office.

He tastes like peppermint and he smells sultry, your head feels dizzy.

“Mmmh…” he pants as his tongue entangles with yours.

He has always wanted to do this with you, and you taste so sweet.

After a while you guys let go, he grins seeing your flushed appearance.

“One more time” he said and you nodded.

***

The family dinner was actually pleasant, his parents are very nice. There’s lots of food and they offer it to you non-stop.

It would’ve been perfect if Gojo wasn't stroking your thighs behind the table.

You gasped as he fingers you while you guys are on the family's table. You bit your lips as you hold your moan.

“Is everything okay?” his mom asked as you nodded, biting your lips.

“Yes…just feel a bit lightheaded, I just recovered from my fever” you lied.

They nodded and told you to take it easy.

You bite your lips as his fingers play with your pussy, and he has the audacity to keep on eating.

His fingers rub your clit as you hear him chuckle quietly “so wet” he whispers and you squirm in pleasure.

The lewd wet noises make you feel embarrassed as you bit your lips, shuddering in pleasure.

As he finds your g-spot, you splurt.

He grins “enjoying the food?” and you glare at him.

*** After the family dinner, he brings you to an amusement park-he wins you a big teddy and you guys have so much fun.

But you-you can’t do this.

You’ve fallen for Gojo again.

You’ve always liked him, but give up since he’s literally your boss.

But now, this felt too real. But you’re scared, he’s just joking-this isn’t even real dating. You felt sick.

"I think we can't do this anymore" you said

“What?” he paused, you guys are eating cotton candy

“This is inappropriate” you said to him

"But it has only been like a day!" he said

"Happy Valentine, Gojo"

***

It’s the next day, and he calls you to his office-and you have no choice but to go there.

“There’s something I need to say” he said “I like you”

You avoid his gaze “I know”

“You know? then why did you-”

“I’m scared” you sigh “and this isn’t the best occasion, you’re my boss” you mutter.

“I’m scared it will just be messed up again”

He holds your hand “I want us to try” he said softly.

“Okay”

***

His desk creaked as he plows your pussy roughly, you hold your moan as his cock plows your gummy walls.

“Fuck” he whines “always wanna try your pussy, baby” he said lewdly as his cock makes out with your pussy “you look-ah” he shudders “so good on your-mmm, skirt” he moans.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure, hips shaking in delight.

“I love you” he groans, plowing you even harder “and your pussy too” he slaps your ass “I will never let you go”

The desk creaked as the lewd wet noises filled his office.

“Be quiet darling” he pants, fucking your pussy “tell your pussy to be quiet, what if people hear?” he moans.

Your pussy tightens and he grins at that.

“Slut” he grunts as he slaps your ass “turns you on when people see you huh?” he grunts as he plows your pussy to his shape.

“Nooo” you whine in pleasure, shaking.

“You’re mine” he shudders “fuck, here comes the load”

You both moan as he spews jets of cum inside you.

He grins “this is just the start”

You chuckle.

This is what you’ve gotten yourself into.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #happy valentine!

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anzekopistar · 2 months ago

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Once again the DOPS, and the league as a whole, is proving itself to be an absolute joke. This is the third time in as many years that Sam Bennett has given another player a concussion (slammed Knies' head into the ice in '23, sucker punched Marchand in '24, hit Stolarz in the head in the crease in '25) as the league continues to deny the connection between hockey and CTE. Bennett has previously been suspended twice, once for boarding and once for a hit to the head. Are you seeing a theme here?

Throwing in this quote from Brad last year for no reason

I also have no doubt that race and racism play a significant role in this. Brown and black players like Nazem Kadri and Evander Kane who play similar styles of hockey and have had equally questionable hits as Bennett have been suspended every single time, while Bennett has avoided any discipline from the Knies, Marchand, and Stolarz hits despite having been suspended twice for plays involving hits to the head. Sounds about white right

In 2019 the league invented a new type of suspension just for Kadri. After a crosscheck in Game 2 he was suspended for the rest of the first round. You read that correctly. He was not suspended for a set number of games like every single other suspension ever, he was suspended for however long the first round lasted, and at that point the series was tied 1-1 so it could have been anywhere from 3 to 5 more games.

And then we get to the Colin Campbell of it all. Executive vice president and director of hockey ops Colin Campbell's son Gregory is the AGM of the Florida Panthers. In 2010 it leaked that Colin Campbell had complained to the league about his son getting penalties, complained about the refs who gave him penalties, and claimed that Marc Savard, who drew the penalty, was a "little fake artist". In 2010 Marc Savard was blind sided by a hit to the head by Matt Cooke, which Campbell decided did not warrant any suspensions. Savard only played 25 more games before post-concussion symptoms forced him to retire.

In case you were wondering, whether or not Campbell was punished for any of this and for clearly being biased to help his son (who once again is the AGM of the Panthers) the answer is no. In fact he was inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame last year.

This league is a joke, DoPS is a joke, and now that the league has once again shown that they don't care about the health and safety of their players you can expect to see this type of play more often. The league has said head shots to goalies who are in the crease is fine. That means players in all remaining series are going to make riskier plays because they know the league won't punish them. I'm willing to put money on the fact that the Leafs/Panthers series is going to get completely out of control because the league has shown that they don't care about actually keeping these players safe time and time again.

If this league had any credibility Gary Bettman, Colin Campbell, and all of the unqualified nepotism hires would be gone. But this is the best sport with the worst league, and every single player injury that is going to come because of the riskier plays that the DoPS has said are okay is on Bettman, Campbell, and DoPS

#annie talks #okay semi annual bitch fest is over

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redclercs · 2 years ago

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xiv. this feels like the calm before the storm.

— the one where the world is caving in.

warnings: cheesy pop culture references, aidan and victoria are back, more articles than usual. mentions of panic attacks, anxiety tics, spelling mistakes in the tweets that i am too lazy to correct, forgive me. 2.3k words (+articles!)

masterlist ✢ next

'Did Timothée Chalamet get y/n y/ln a role in 'Little Women'?'

By Bridget Thomas

As previously reported by various outlets, actress y/n y/ln has been cast as the youngest March sister for yet another remake of "Little Women", expected to be premiered by the end of next year. However, we can't help but wonder, how did y/n manage to get a role alongside actors of such high caliber, such as Meryl Streep and Best Actress Nominee Saoirse Ronan?

Despite the success of movies such as Supercut and The Hating Game, y/n's acting skills cannot even begin to compare to those of her co-stars, she's a romcom actress, and she's supposed to stay that way. But as Ringo Starr once sung: "I get by with a little help from my friends" and y/n is no exception.

Timothée Chalamet, Greta Gerwig's other main muse, has Hollywood eating out of the palm of his hand, and his influence goes a long way. So much so, that he was able to secure Amy's role for new friend (possibly new something else) y/n y/ln.

Right after they were seen mingling at a party in Paris with y/n's boyfriend (probably soon to be ex) Charles Leclerc, y/n got the call that they decided to give her the role.

Don't we all want a boyfriend who uses nepotism to our benefit?

Seriously, though, how does y/n manage to get this heartthrobs to spare a glance her way and do this stuff in her name? Somebody call the Winchester Brothers, we might have a witchcraft case right in front of our eyes.

Click here to go to the next article.

'Victoria Presley: I still miss my best friend, but all she did was use me.'

By Daniel Gomez

After staying away from social media and her job for a month and a half, beauty influencer Victoria Presley is back and she's not afraid of anything. Not even legal repercussions.

Back in July, Victoria received a 'Cease and Desist' letter from none other than former best friend y/n y/ln, demanding she stopped talking about her in public and to news outlets. This sparked the rumors that Presley had been selling her secrets to tabloids and was the one to reveal the engagement secret alongside actress Mia Kim, Aidan Kim's sister.

Victoria immediately removed herself from the narrative, deeply hurt by her ex-bestie's actions. Now, after gathering her thoughts and recovering from being stabbed in the back, she's giving us this exclusive interview.

"I can't help but miss y/n, she was my best friend for so long. But all she did was use me." Victoria is still in disbelief of y/n's actions, after giving her all her love and support. "I let her live in my house for months, and one day she leaves without any explanation. All to meet that Formula One guy."

Victoria has expressed her discontent with y/n's relationship with Charles Leclerc several times, arguing he is one of the main reasons y/n cut all ties with her and not the rumors that she revealed y/n's secrets to tabloids.

"He changed her for worse. Their relationship is so toxic, they breakup and get back together again and again, and they're just looking for ways to use the other's reputation for their benefit."

However, Victoria is certain the relationship won't last much longer, since y/n has her sight set on co-star Timothée Chalamet. "y/n has liked him for a while. When the rumors of his relationship with Kylie Jenner came out, she assured me she could steal him away with a flick of her hand."

Meanwhile, Victoria is focusing on her beauty line and its evergrowing sales. "I'm competing directly with Rare Beauty and Fenty. I'm in the big leagues, the way I deserve to be."

Click here to go to the next article.

'Aidan Kim reveals tracklist for "MIRRORS" and moves the release forward.'

By Paul Dean

Aidan Kim fans won't have to wait until October 5th anymore since their idol has decided to move the release date for his debut album forward by one month.

While we believe this decision was influenced by the news of ex-girlfriend y/n y/ln making her acting comeback in a high category movie, his fans also begged him to 'remind everyone of how awful y/n is' and judging by the titles of his upcoming tracks, we're sure he's leaving no crumbs.

Check out "MIRRORS" tracklist here:

In Your Pocket

All The Things I Hate About You

Him

Cry Me A River

Stabber

Stupid Love Letter

MIRRORS

Round and Round (Star-5 Reprise)

Yours and Mine (Star-5 Reprise)

Blinding Lights (The Weeknd Cover)

No Lie (With Mia Kim)

We can't wait for Aidan's insight on his relationship and breakup to y/n, we're certain the details are juicy! Don't forget to presave "MIRRORS" on Spotify and Apple Music!

Monza, Italy, September 3rd.

1...2...3... deep breath in, 4...5...6, breathe out.

You repeat the process five times until your heart has set in your chest and isn't trying to break free anymore. Until you've stopped squeezing your thighs with your palms and you can keep your eyes open without feeling like the red decoration is stabbing your eyeballs.

It's good that you can manage your anxiety before it turns into panic. You're still embarrassed about The Spain Incident, although neither Charles nor Carlos fault you for it at all. Still, every now and then, their panicked faces flashback in your mind and you feel sorry for them all over again.

You don't want this weekend to turn into The Monza Incident. Not when Charles' contract renewal was announced a few hours ago and he's on Pole Position, this weekend has to be perfect. Or as perfect as possible, for your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The weight of the word has multiplied by a thousand in your mind. Silly, when you really think about it. But palpable in a way that has butterflies flying around your stomach every time you think about the word and Charles' smiling face appears in your mind.

He's your boyfriend and you're his girlfriend, and this was a mutual agreement you reached with panic still holding you by the throat, only soothed by Charles' soft lips against your temple and his warm hands rubbing your skin.

You agreed to come to this Grand Prix because it will be the last one for you for a while. Filming for Little Women starts soon, and though they have a couple of races in the States, your schedule can be a little unpredictable. Also, you're hoping to score more roles soon.

You breathe again, deep enough that your lungs ache and lightheadedness threatens to rise through your body. You're overwhelming yourself, again.

According to the world, you’re not skilled enough to be in a movie with Saoirse and Timothée and should give up the role to someone who actually deserves it. Which you won’t do, of course. That someone who deserves it is yourself. It has taken a lot of pep talks in the bathroom mirror to brainwash yourself into believing it, but you’re getting there.

Plus, there are more things to worry about with Victoria back on her bullshit and Aidan's album coming out in two days. There are so many things to fix again, just when you thought you were getting there. Of course the two people that hate you most in the world have to mess with you again.

"Already here?" Carlos asks the second he crosses the door to the Suite. "It's way early."

"Good morning to you too," you let the air out of your already burning lungs and smile at Carlos. "I have nowhere else to be."

You could be at the Paddock Club, mingling with whatever celebrity or rich local is there. Or even visiting McLaren, since Lando offered to 'show you the garage', something Charles didn't like, of course. The secret of your newly earned girlfriend-boyfriend titles is one you try to keep close to your heart.

As if that has worked before.

A wave of anxiety runs down the back of your neck when you remember the tweet you saw this morning about a Deuxmoi tip on Charles and you. What could the exact price be, to reveal your relationship to the world?

"Have you had breakfast? Looks like you're going to throw up," Carlos says, sitting in the sofa opposite yours.

It's at least the fifth time he's told you that during the weekend. You know he does it out of a place of concern, but it still rubs you the wrong way. You also need to look perfect, not like you're going to throw up.

"I had breakfast back at the hotel, it's just the lighting."

"Sure?"

"I'm fine, Carlos. How are you?"

Carlos shrugs, he's not being the center of attention this weekend despite this being another home race for the team. "Good."

"Didn't you have to be at the meeting today?" you question, although it's obvious that by his getting there just now, he didn't.

"Had my PR reminders yesterday. Charles is different."

Of course. He has to know what he's allowed to say about his renewal and what he should not speak on at all.

Your own team advised you not to let yourself be seen at Monza. Mildred would have pulled you out of the plane if it had been up to her, and Walter would have helped her hold you hostage until the weekend was over.

They're both trying to find out about the Deuxmoi pictures too, although you doubt they can reach an agreement of any kind with whoever holds them to stop them from calling People Magazine up.

This whole avoiding being seen thing makes you feel wrong. As if you were doing something bad with Charles instead of just finally letting the love you've felt for him for months show. You hate it.

You're wrong to compare your current situation with your past ones. Aidan was your first really public romantic relationship, but before that, you didn't hide your partners either. Of course you weren't that famous, but even then, you didn't entertain the thought of scurrying around like criminals.

"He'll be fine, y/n," Carlos adds, looking at the way your foot keeps stomping the floor, like you're some kind of hyperactive bunny. "He's on Pole. You can pray for Max's downfall, though, maybe that'll help."

"I don't pray for people's downfall," you click your tongue, crossing your legs to stop the tic.

Karma and all that.

"Maybe you should." Carlos winks at you, and your conversation is finished as Charles leaves his meeting.

You can tell something's off just from the way his shoulders tense, but he smiles at you the moment your eyes meet.

"Everything okay?" you ask before he leans down to reach your height as you sit and pecks your lips.

"Yes, everything's good."

He's lying.

─────────

What was the point of coming to Monza if you're only watching the race through the screens?

You don't think the sun has touched your face at all since you got to the circuit, and you really want to be out there. But you stay put in your seat as the formation lap occurs right outside of the Suite.

It will make no difference, though, Charles is focused on the race, as he should be, rather than whether you're watching him through the TV.

Soon enough you know what will make a difference.

It's some kind of miracle that Charles has managed to regain the P1 position after the disastrous pit stop Ferrari put him through, and maybe Carlos was actually praying for Red Bull's downfall since Max has his very first DNF of the season and Checo can't get past George in P3.

Charles is going to win Monza again.

The decision making tree branches in front of you in a matter of seconds, people at the Suite are already talking excitedly and someone asks if you want to go down, there are four laps left.

You get up from your seat, aware that if life was anything like that videogame you played a couple times on the set of Parisian Valentine with your co-star, the "This action will have consequences" legend would appear on the screen right now.

You follow the Ferrari worker out, but even between the excitement and celebrations, you manage to hear what the PR Manager really thinks of your presence in the Paddock.

"She’s such a PR nightmare,"

She switches to Italian when your eyes fly to her face. And you can only wonder what cruel yet entirely accurate thing she said.

It's worse than a nightmare. It feels like the apocalypse all over again. And the weight of the world is back on your shoulders, feeling like you're messing up what was a weekend out of a dream for Charles.

You flashback to Monaco and the way Mati pulled you out of your head and locked your phone in her purse. You wish she was here more with each passing second. You cannot tear your eyes away from every single tweet speculating about your presence, about your relationship, about your intentions. It's overwhelming.

But Charles' happiness is what matters. He's absolutely ecstatic, even after the mishaps during the interviews where his PR training had to kick in and lead reporters back to Formula 1 related questions.

The thought that maybe you should have tried to make friends with more people occurs to you when you arrive at the celebration in the private club and Charles is dragged away from you. He tries his best to hold on to your hand, but the truth is people want to be with him and not you, so you let him take the spotlight he deserves and enjoy it.

"So, are you and Charles dating, then? Didn't you use to be engaged?"

You half-smile at the girl who just asked you the question, so boldly it takes you aback. But you guess her eyes are so bright from how much alcohol there is in her system, she's bound to be direct with liquid courage running through her veins. She's pretty in that dark hair, dark eyes way that has you momentarily doubting your own looks.

The extra heartbeat that takes you to reply, has her eyes shifting around the room before settling on Charles, who is finally walking back to your side.

Your boyfriend hands you a drink and smiles at the dark-haired girl and her friend, politely. "Are you having a good time?" the question is mostly directed towards you, but both girls jump at the chance of saying they're having the time of their lives and congratulating Charles for such an epic win. But they prompt you to join the conversation a few seconds later, so you're grateful for it either way.

There's a song in Spanish playing on the speakers and Charles is doing his best to sing the words while encouraging you to move to the beat with him. With his arms around you, things feel a little lighter, the whole in your chest that anxiety carved out is slowly filling with the love you feel for him, and the happiness of the day outshines the darkness of the thoughts in the back of your mind.

That is, at least, until the first notes of 'In Your Pocket' replace the previous song, after the DJ announces it's a special request. It's a remix, obviously, so people can dance to it, but a few of them have stopped moving altogether just to be a little less discreet about eyeing you.

"C'est pas amusant," you hear Charles say to one of his friends, who is hiding his mouth behind a tall glass of alcohol, his eyes still betray his enjoyement.

"It's fine," you squeeze Charles' arm, trying your best to smile although you're being put in the spotlight and there's nearly nothing worse than being the butt of a cruel joke. "It's just a song."

You wondered many times what those surrounding Charles thought of you. They didn't know you, after all. His brothers were nice to you when you saw them around the Paddock, and it wasn't like you'd hung around the rest of his friends. Did they mock him when tabloids called him a homewrecker? Or did they believe he'd just embarked on what seemed to be a dead-end relationship?

"I'm sorry, soleil, they're just— they're idiots," Charles adds, his hand reaching for yours. He looks genuinely upset and you can't help but hate whoever requested the song a little more for spoiling Charles' mood rather than for making fun of you.

"Charlie, it's okay, I've been through worse," your reassurance doesn't soothe him, so you squeeze his hand and he presses his lips to your temple. "I'd rather listen to Bad Bunny or something, though."

Charles laughs and pulls you out of the dancefloor, to a more private part of the club where you both can catch your breath and share a few kisses, unafraid of people staring at you.

New York, United States, September 7th.

You know you're in trouble when Mildred calls tells you that you need to be at her office ASAP. She also used that condescending 'I'm the adult' tone that sends you back to when you were fifteen and got in trouble with your mother, so it's another indication that she's angry at you.

Of course you know why, the words 'PR nightmare' haven't left your brain in days. And the moment you set foot in New York, Mildred was all over you about every single thing that was being said about the Monza Incident—aka seeing your boyfriend like any normal person would.

"This isn't ideal," Mildred says after a while, she has been explaining the public's perception of you for the past half hour. "It's like you—"

"Like I fucked up?" you cut her off, squeezing your knees to stop from biting your nails.

"We were rebuilding your brand, y/n. People think you waited for things to die a little so you could go public with Charles. Aidan's new album is not helping your case."

If you thought 'In Your Pocket' was bad, nothing compared to the rest of the songs. Some in which he called you a list of things including a homie-hopper, drama starter and said you settled for a 'bum' when you could have had a 'rockstar'.

"How is that my fault?" you don't intend to sound so whiny, but you can't help it. Why are Aidan's actions always your fault somehow?

"People are talking more about how you are dating a Ferrari Driver after spending months saying you weren't, rather than the fact that you landed an incredibly important role."

"We haven't told anyone we're dating,"

Mildred rolls her eyes despite her best efforts to remain professional. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

"What do you suggest we do?" you ask, knowing you won't like the answer.

─── team principal radio: ❝remember when I said it wouldn't take me one month to update delicate and then it took me longer than that? I'M SO SORRY LMAO. also not loving this chapter but i just want it out of my way for now i need it off my drafts, but don't worry this time i'll try for the next not to take me a century. thank you if you're still here, your patience means the world to me i love you all so muuuuch♡❞

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