#this au has really become something else | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itadorey · 5 months ago

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𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 (?) 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄— gojo satoru

pairing: racer!gojo x race engineer!reader genre: formula 1 au, fluff summary: he's insufferable (and wants to ask you out) and you're just trying to help him win the championship notes: formula 1 has ruined my life. probably lots of inconsistencies but i sped wrote this. this turned out a lot longer than i initially planned. gn reader but mention of wearing a dress. word count: ~3.2k

It's hot.

Your nose scrunches up in mild disgust as you feel a bead of sweat trickle down your neck, quickly making it's way towards the collar of your shirt before it's wiped away with a soft towel.

"Thanks," you mutter, looking up to meet a pair of bright blue eyes accompanied by a swoon-worthy smile. You huff lightly at the wink Gojo sends your way, turning away slightly to let your eyes roam over the rest of the paddock. Your lips turn up into a smile when you catch sight of Geto Suguru walking past your garage, and you return his greeting with a wave of your own before you hear Gojo grumble from his place beside you.

"Fraternizing with the enemy," he says, annoyance coating his words. He crosses his arms, unintentionally flexing and drawing your gaze towards his torso. His black fireproofs fit him snugly, and you find your mouth going dry as you try your best not to ogle him. You wonder if the temperature's gotten hotter. "That's not very nice of you."

"He's not the enemy," you protest, turning away to grab Gojo's helmet before thrusting it into his chest. "He's your best friend."

"Off track he is," Gojo agrees, holding onto the helmet. He pulls you in slightly, raising a brow when you don't immediately let it go. "But on track, he's my biggest competition. So you should be focused on me, not him. He's only a handful of points behind me."

"I'd hardly call one hundred points a handful," you mutter, turning to the side to grab a clipboard. "I think you're guaranteed to win the championship this year. Plus, Megumi's been doing great as well. Kid is in third place and it's only his second year! I think we've got the constructor's in the bag as well."

"All I need is a couple of bad races and next thing you know, Geto Suguru is the 2024 World Champion."

"Bad races," you snort, guiding Gojo towards his car and shoving his balaclava into his free hand. "Gojo Satoru does not have bad races. I don't know how you do it. I feel like you never drop below second place."

"It's all thanks to those genius strategies of yours," Gojo quips, watching in amusement as you shake your head in mild disbelief. There's a soft glint in his eye that you never seem to notice, and he finds himself wondering if maybe he should be a little more obvious about his feelings. (Everyone else on the grid and even the majority of the fans know he has the hots for you, so really, you're just the densest person to exist).

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say, waving him off as you start to make your way towards the rest of your team. "Pull your suit up and go get settled in."

Gojo watches you for a couple of minutes, leaning against a cement column with his arms crossed. He doesn't know how, but watching you organize the team and go over your notes has become his pre-race ritual. He's so lost in thought that he fails to notice the cameras pointed at him, broadcasting the lovestruck look on his face for everyone watching the race live to see.

"Ready to go?"

Gojo snaps out of his daze when his team principal, Yaga Masamichi, comes up to him. There's a faint smirk on his lips as he motions towards you, his sunglasses hiding the teasing glint that Gojo just knows is present. "Or is there something you need to urgently discuss with your beloved race engineer?"

Gojo rolls his eyes but chooses to remain silent before pulling his balaclava over his head. He's abnormally quiet as he settles into his seat, and when he catches sight of you giving him a thumbs up from afar, he decides to ask you out right after he beats Geto and wins first place.

"Radio check."

"I can hear you loud and clear," you respond, your voice carrying the same lilt that Gojo's does. He laughs quietly, settling into the second position after the formation lap. A glance to his left leaves him scowling when he sees Geto flip him off, and he sighs deeply before realizing that his radio is still on. "Something wrong?"

"Just Suguru being an asshole," he responds, his irritation fading away when you attempt to choke down your laughter.

"Radio is still on," you manage to spit out. "Mind your language."

"You can reprimand me later," Gojo says immediately, well aware that his radio has probably drawn the broadcaster's attention. "Over dinner, maybe? Just you and me in the candlelight at that little Italian place you like."

"Win the race and then maybe I'll consider it," you hum, amusement tinging your words as you shake your head. Gojo can't help but pout when he realizes that you're dismissing his words as a joke, and he merely huffs before turning his radio off and telling himself that he has to beat Geto to the first turn if he wants any chance of winning this race.

It isn't long until lights out, and Gojo finds himself reacting just quick enough to push past Geto's car and take the lead. He catches a glimpse of Megumi gaining on Yuuji, eventually passing him and allowing him to start catching up to Geto. Seeing that his biggest competition is now being distracted by his teammate, Gojo turns his focus back to the track, trying to put as much distance between him and Geto as possible. A few laps pass before he hears his radio crackle to life, and he hears you speak softly so as to not startle him with the suddenness of your words.

"You're seven seconds ahead of Geto," you say, earning a hum of acknowledgement in return. "You also currently have the fastest lap so please focus on managing your tyres."

"The tyres are fine," Gojo's voice trills through your headphones. You glance over at Yaga, grimacing when you see him shaking his head.

"There's been reports of graining," you respond nonchalantly. "Please take better care of your tyres unless you want us to pit you earlier than planned and switch to plan B."

"Alright, whatever," Gojo grumbles, going quiet for a few seconds before speaking once more. "Now let me focus on driving. The sooner I win, the sooner I can see your pretty face."

You roll your eyes at his words, raising an eyebrow in confusion when Yaga fails to muffle his amused chuckle.

"Something funny?" you ask, leaning back slightly to look at the older man. He holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the monitor in front of him. You roll your eyes briefly before turning back to the pit wall as well, ignoring the words Yaga mutters under his breath about someone being oblivious.

The race progresses smoothly, and you find yourself feeling thankful that both you and Tsumiki (Megumi's race engineer) have had an uneventful race so far. It isn't until the race is about a third of the way through that you finally turn the radio on again, holding out a hand to stop Tsumiki from doing the same. "Gojo? We are boxing next lap, do you copy?"

"Copy," he responds immediately, his tone uncharacteristically serious for once. "Are we sticking with plan A?"

"Yes, you listened for once," you confirm, nodding your head even though he can't see you. "You have enough of a gap that we can comfortably put you on hards and have you back in the top spot in no time. The track is warm enough for those tyres."

"I always listen to you," Gojo replies without missing a beat. "Anything you say goes."

A deep sigh is all he gets in return, and he can't help the small chuckles that leaves his lips as he finishes his lap and prepares to pull into the pit lane. The stop is performed without a hitch, and you sigh in relief when Gojo emerges in third place, only a couple of seconds behind Megumi. You exchanged nods with Tsumiki, and you turn your attention back to the monitor in front of you as she radios Megumi to come in for his pit stop next.

"Okay, Gojo," you speak when you see Megumi head into the pit lane. "We're getting Megumi in and out as fast as possible. Geto is about ten seconds ahead of you, it's time to push."

"Perfect, but not as perfect as you" Gojo sings, swearing as he takes a turn a little too wide.

"Make that eleven seconds," you correct, biting your lips to hold back a laugh when Gojo swears again. "Go do your thing. I'll keep you updated."

There's no response as the radio clicks off, and you find yourself wincing when you realize that Megumi's slow pit stop has dropped him down to fifth place behind Yuuji's twin brother, Sukuna. You can hear hushed words coming from Tsumiki, and you can't help but feel bad for her predicament considering that Sukuna is the reason that Megumi hadn't been able to finish his race a couple of weeks ago after being pushed off track and into the barrier.

You watch with bated breath as the gap between Gojo and Geto begins to close, and you cross your fingers and hope that Shoko, his race engineer, will choose that moment to call him in for a tyre change. Your hopes go unanswered, and you're on the edge of your seat when Gojo managed to catch up to Geto after ten laps.

The air feels tense as you and Yaga watch Gojo get incredibly close to Geto, separating from him right as he turns a corner to avoid being hit. He's close to him— too close, you think— and you find yourself taking a deep breath to prevent yourself from turning on the radio to tell him to stop being so aggressive. A glance to your right tells you that Yaga isn't concerned with Gojo's driving, so you decide to let him be and see how the situation works out.

Your fingers grip onto your clipboard, knuckles going white as Gojo manages to swerve himself into the spot right next to Geto. You're slightly awestruck as you watch Geto and Gojo race wheel to wheel, their synchronicity impressive as they take tight corners and long straights in unison. There's a brief moment during which you wonder what it would be like if they were teammates, and you shake your head to clear the thoughts from your head. You fear that being teammates could damage their friendship beyond repair.

"There's been contact!" Yaga shouts, snapping you back to reality. You scramble for the radio button, a gasp leaving your lips as you watch Gojo swerve close to the edge of the track. You see Geto move in the opposite direction, and you quickly scan all the monitors before speaking to your racer.

"Gojo, there was contact but the car seems to be perfectly fine," you say calmly, watching as he straightens himself out and passes Geto. "That's P1."

"Great!" Gojo replies breathlessly, his voice sounding slightly strained. "How is Geto? Is he fine?"

You take a second to glance to the side, receiving a nod from Yaga before he motions to the pit lane. A soft call of your name has you turning your attention back to the radio, and you nod to yourself before updating Gojo. "He's fine, slight front wing damage so Shoko brought him in to get that changed along with his tyres. You're in the lead and we're waiting to see what the stewards will say about the incident. We think you might get a warning."

"Alright, better than a penalty," Gojo says, nodding to himself as he takes another turn. "Just a couple more laps and then I can take you out for that dinner."

"I said I'd think about it," you reply dryly, ignoring the giggle that leaves Tsumiki's lips. "Just bring it home. Geto had a bad pit stop so him, Yuuji, and Megumi are like fifteen seconds behind you."

"Whoa! Megumi made it past Sukuna? The kid's got balls."

"Language, Gojo," you remind him, sighing softly. "I'm turning the radio off now. Don't fuck this up."

"Language!" Gojo mocks, his laugh cutting out as you turn the radio off. You spend the last quarter of the race watching Megumi alongside Tsumiki, slightly impressed as Gojo manages to retain his now sixteen second lead. It isn't until Geto manages to break away from Yuuji and Megumi that you start to get nervous, and you watch as he begins to push the last few laps of the race.

"Gojo?" you ask, the radio crackling to life as you watch the monitors. "Just letting you know that Geto has managed to pull ahead of Yuuji and Megumi. I don't think he can catch up but there's still a couple of laps and he always manages to surprise us."

The silence you receive unsettles you, and you mutely turn the radio off and sit back to watch the end of the race. There's not much you can do but rely on Gojo to pull through, and you can vaguely hear Tsumiki talking to Megumi over the radio as he battles with Yuuji. You're on the edge of your seat when Geto manages to set the fastest lap in the race, and you begin to worry that he might be able to catch up to Gojo, only for your fears to be quelled when you realize that it is the final lap of the race.

"Last lap, Gojo!" you call out, turning the radio on in excitement. "Bring it home!"

"Last lap?" he asks, laughing breathlessly when he receives a hum from you. "How far behind me is the next car?"

"Fourteen seconds," you respond, bouncing your knee up and down in anticipation as he turns the last corner. The upcoming straight is the only thing between him and the finish line, and you feel your heart drop when Gojo's car suddenly starts to lose speed. "Gojo? Are you losing power?"

"Nope!" he chirps cheerily, humming softly to himself. "Are you feeling Italian? We can always choose a different restaurant for dinner?"

You do your best to ignore the anxiety creeping up your spine, watching as Gojo trails towards the finish line at what can only be described as a snail's pace compared to the speed of Formula 1 cars. Your eyes widen when you see the gap between him and Geto close, and you do your best to not let your nervousness creep into your tone. "Gojo, is really not the time to be talking about dinner."

"But you're going out to dinner with me right?" comes his immediate response.

"Gojo, please hurry up and cross the finish line."

"Not until you agree to go out with me!" he trills. Yaga shoots you a pleading glance.

"Gojo! Please! Just win the race!" you beg, swallowing harshly as your fingers begin to tap against your clipboard. You catch a glimpse of the amused look on Tsumiki's face, but you're unable to give her the scathing glare you usually would due to the fear you're beginning to feel.

"I can stay here all day," he replies smugly, giggling to himself as he speeds the car up just to slow down once more. "Well I can't, but I can stay here until I cross the finish line in P20."

"Oh my fucking god," you nearly shriek, watching as Geto takes the final turn and begins to head down the straight. "Yes! Yes, I'll go out with you, Gojo! Now please just cross the damn finish line, you dumbass!"

"My pleasure!" he teases, slamming his foot down on the accelerator just in time to cross the finish line a second before Geto. A loud whoop leaves Yaga's mouth as everyone in the pit wall relaxes, too relieved by Gojo's win to instantly realize that Megumi has managed to cross the finish line before Yuuji. The cheers surrounding you sound muted as you put your head in your hands, trying to calm your racing heart and fight off a smile as you realize that you now have a date for the night.

You barely process anything as Tsumiki drags you towards the now parked racecars, and you try your best to ignore Shoko's smug smirk as she whispers into Geto's ear. You think it's safe to assume that she's filling him in on what happened with Gojo during the last lap.

His loud laugh accompanies by a friendly wink thrown your way confirms your assumption.

You stand near the back of the crowd as Gojo stands on top of his car, holding his pointer finger up and posing for pictures before leaping back onto the ground and proceeding to congratulate Geto and Megumi for their performances. You manage to catch his eye after a few minutes, and you feel your face grow warm when a genuine smile spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling as he makes his way through the crowd towards you.

"Congrats on P1," you say quietly, trying your best to ignore the way he's looking at you.

"All thanks to your genius strategies," he quips, repeating his words from earlier. The smile on his face tells you that he wants to make a suggestive comment, and you do your best to redirect the conversation before he can.

"You should probably head into the cooldown room," you comment casually, tilting your head in the direction that Geto and Megumi had disappeared to. "Podium celebration is about to start. Don't forget to get weighed."

"Don't forget to wear that pretty, red dress I like," he responds confidently. A surprised laugh leaves your lips at his comment, and you can't help but shake your head fondly as you finally look up at him.

"You know, you didn't have to give me a heart attack during the race. You could've asked me out after the race like a normal person. I would've said yes," you confess, becoming hyperaware of all the attention the two of you seem to be drawing.

"What can I say?" Gojo responds, shrugging half-heartedly as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's close enough that you can see the varying shades of blue in his eyes, and you resist the urge to jokingly push him away when he loops an arm around your waist. "I tend to have a flair for the dramatic."

"Oh boy, don't I know it," you whisper, not giving him the chance to respond before you loop your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. Both of you faintly register the whoops and cheers surrounding you, and you can't help but break apart from each other as laughter starts to bubble up in your throats.

It isn't until you fully pull away from him and usher him towards the cooldown room that you notice the sheer amount of cameras that have been pointed your way, focusing on the moment that has just been shared between the both of you. An embarrassed noise escapes your lips as you duck into your team's garage, giggling when you hear Yaga congratulating you loudly on your win. A smile spreads across your face as you settle into a seat to watch the podium ceremony, and you find yourself wondering if you and Gojo will manage to evade the press when you finally leave the track.

It's safe to say that the internet has a field day when the news of Gojo's end-of-race stunt and your spontaneous kiss breaks.

ty for reading!! rbs are appreciated <3

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojou x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojo imagine #gojou imagine #satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojou fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo imagines

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strcwbrryklss · 3 months ago

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Could u do a fic similar to ur mustang fic, but the storyline being she moves next to him and her brother and him get close cos her mum begins to become friends with his mum so she has to come over a lot and ends up being obsessed with him

୨୧﹕ privacy .ᐟ oneshot

pairing ; au!nicholas chavez x fem!reader contains ; 80s alternate universe , brother’s best friend , tension. a/n ; 1980s alternate universe where nicholas is a rich kid. summary ; after y/n’s family moves house, her neighbour (and brother’s best friend) catches her eye.

THERE’S SOMETHING SO attractive about a man who is forbidden. maybe it’s the fantasy of it: the yearning for something that is just out of reach. it’s almost as if you’re looking at him through a glass wall, but all you can do is look.

y/n laid on her bed in front of her window, looking into the house next door. coincidentally, nicholas’ bedroom window was opposite her’s. she wasn’t sure he realised yet, but she sure did, and the lack of curtains on his end didn’t help.

she’d glance outside her window for a moment sometimes and be met with the sight of him and a girl, a different one every time. and it’s not that y/n was nosey, but what type of jerk brings a new girl home every other day?

whatever, it was none of her business. her fingers absentmindedly twisted a strand of hair as her mind wandered. suddenly, the shrill ring of the house phone cut through the peaceful haze of her afternoon. she groaned, tossing the magazine aside, and reluctantly swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was always a race to answer the phone before someone else picked up or, worse, before the answering machine clicked on. downstairs, she heard it ring again, and she bolted for the hallway.

her feet hit the marble steps, carefully rushing down them in order to not slip (trust me, she’s learned her lesson) as she took them two at a time, and she reached for the phone just as it rang a third time. the long, coiled cord dangled like a snake as she brought the heavy receiver to her ear.

“hello?” she sighed.

“hey, y/n, it's me,” her brother's voice crackled through the line.

the girl rolled her eyes. he had been out all day, probably hanging out with his basketball friends from down the street. “what do you want?”

“i, uh... i left my watch at the chavez'.”

“okay?” she leaned against the doorframe, already regretting picking up the call.

“in the bathroom,” he added sheepishly. “i kinda need you to go get it for me.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you want me to go to the neighbors' house and ask them for your stupid watch?”

“please?” he sounded desperate. “mom’s gonna freak if she finds out i lost it again. it’s the one grandma got me, remember?”

y/n sighed dramatically, twisting the cord around her fingers. she hated doing her brother’s errands. “why don't you go get it?”

“i'm, uh, not really around right now.”

“not around?” she scowled, though she knew he couldn't see it. “what, are you in another dimension or something?”

“i'm at the arcade,” her brother admitted. “and i can’t leave right now i’m with someone”

y/n gasped jokingly before mocking him, “you’ve got a girlfriend, you’ve got a girlfri-”

“shut up” he responded.

“why don’t you ask nick?” she moved on.

“if i call their phone his mom might pick up and i’ll have to explain and then she might tell-” he rambled before being cut off by the annoyed groan of his sister.

she could practically hear the grin on his face, knowing he'd dodged responsibility again. she thought about arguing but decided it wasn't worth the effort. “fine,” she huffed. “but you owe me.”

“alright, thanks bye!” her brother said quickly, relief flooding his voice before quickly hanging up on her.

with that, she made her way across the manicured lawns toward nick’s place. his family’s house, a massive mediterranean-style mansion, was just a short walk away. she’d been over a few times for pool parties and get-togethers, but it was always when his parents were throwing some lavish event. now, though, it was quiet, and she wasn’t sure if anyone was even home.

the front door was open slightly, and y/n knocked, stepping into the cool air-conditioned hallway when there was no answer.

“nicholas?” she called out, but was greeted by silence, except for the distant hum of music playing from somewhere upstairs.

the girl figured he must be in his room or something, so she headed up the grand staircase, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom her brother had mentioned. the marble floors were cool beneath her feet, and the whole house had that expensive, freshly cleaned smell that only rich homes seemed to have. don’t get me wrong, y/n was rich, but not this rich.

as she reached the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, steam seeping out into the hallway. before she could knock, the door opened, and there stood nick, freshly out of the shower, a towel hanging loosely around his waist, his skin still glistening with water droplets.

y/n froze.

his eyes widened, clearly just as surprised to see her. his hair was damp, hanging messily over his forehead, and the sight of him standing there, looking every bit like a golden god, left y/n momentarily speechless.

“y/n?” he said, his voice smooth but amused. “what are you doing here?”

she swallowed, trying to find her voice. “um, my brother… he left his watch here earlier. i came to get it.”

nick chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, his towel shifting dangerously low on his hips, revealing his very noticeable v-line. “ah, the infamous watch.” he nodded back toward the counter inside the bathroom. “it’s right there.”

she glanced past him and spotted the watch sitting next to the sink. but her eyes didn’t stay on the watch for long, not with nicholas standing right in front of her like that, all muscles and damp skin. she could feel her cheeks heating up, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

“thanks,” she mumbled, stepping forward to grab it, but not before catching the faint scent of his aftershave. it was intoxicating.

just as she reached for the watch, he shifted, his arm brushing against hers. she couldn’t help but look up, meeting his eyes, which were gleaming with that signature smirk of his.

“you know,” he said, his voice low, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here for that. i could’ve brought it over later.”

her heart was racing now, and she tried to play it cool. “i didn’t want to bother you”

nick raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “bother me? y/n, you’re never a bother, you’re my best friend’s sister after all.” his gaze lingered on her for a moment, the air between them thick with tension.

she quickly snatched the watch off the counter, stepping back. “well, i’ve got it now, so I’ll just…go.”

the boy chuckled, taking a step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “you don’t have to rush off. why don’t you hang out for a bit? i was about to make some food, and i could use some company.”

she hesitated, the idea of staying here, alone with nick, both thrilling and terrifying. the way he was looking at her — like she was the only thing in the room that mattered — made it hard to think straight.

“i don’t know,” she said, biting her lip.

he grinned, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “come on, y/n. stay.”

it wasn’t really a question.

and before she could talk herself out of it, she nodded.

#nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez fanfic #777 #݁₊ ⊹ ݁˖ ⋆ strcwbrryklss

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megapocalypse · 4 months ago

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AU where Shen Yuan transmigrated as a canon fodder villain character who crossdresses as a beautiful maiden so that he could get into Binghe's harem and assassinate him.

Because of stallion novel comphet Bing-ge kills the femboy and puts him on display for mockery.

Shen Yuan thinks to himself "I'm totally fucked!!!", and tries to get out of his situation while acting as the dainty and lovely maiden as to not get castrated.

Shen Yuan is forced to follow through with getting into the harem by the system and is already planning his escape, while Binghe just sees this quiet and shy new conquest with a face veil to add as a new concubine.

He gets his own room in the palace and shenanigans ensue, he tries to dissuade Binghe from him but because this is Shen Yuan, he subsequently makes things worse for himself by the sheer fact that Binghe becomes more and more invested in him.

SY just thinks he's a really good actor to avoid the protagonist's 10,000+ IQ and foresight, but Binghe of course already knows of Shen Yuan's secret identity he just acts like he's "playing with his food" before the kill. And then Binghe of course falls head over heels for Shen Yuan.

Binghe spends more and more time with Shen Yuan, and SY is starting to let himself loosen up around the protagonist. Binghe starts ignoring his other wives, he gets jealous when anyone else stares at Yuan-jiejie in his beautiful dresses, he starts divorcing his wives one by one.

At some point Shen Yuan is like, "oooh noooo I caught feelings for Binghe~ but I'm just canon fodder who's supposed to die~" while Binghe is planning on their wedding and to make him first and only Empress.

...

Idk maybe SY runs away or something and Binghe goes after him, sy reveals his true identity and that he has old decrepit boy pussy and Binghe is like "noooo you're so sexy" then they fuck and become married 4 life The End.

#svsss #bingqiu #text post #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #luo binghe #luo bingge #binggeyuan #bingyuan #lemon #ish(?)#svsss au #scum villian self saving system

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norris55s · 7 months ago

Text

just friends - pato o'ward

sister’s best friend!reader x pato o’ward social media au

a/n: it’s a sister’s best friend to best friends to lovers brain rot. i also needed something to soothe my heart after that last lap on the indy500. i also love pato with all my heart. fc is olivia rodrigo!

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y/ninstagram

liked by patriciooward, elbaoward and 21,546 others

y/ninstagram: the bff + the princess and the prince at their wedding + the bitch ass brother

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elbaoward: love you soooo much 🤍🤍🤍

y/ninstagram: i love u more 4eva, don’t care if ur married ur my wifey above all🤍

elbaoward: wifeys 4eva

patriciooward: I’m the cool brother

y/ninstagram: uncool*

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patriciooward

liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 126,746 others

patriciooward: Woke up with a new brother today. Congratulations to the love birds. 🤍 Also pictured y/ninstagram waking up with a hangover. ☕️

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y/ninstagram: delete

patriciooward: But you look like a ray of sunshine

elbaoward: thank you always baby brother🤍 you look like you had a goood time lol

user46: ayo who is y/n i’m new here

user67: okay I love y/n lore, she is an influencer/model type of deal and she is pato’s sister’s bestie since forever ago and she and pato get along really well, they’re seen together a lot when elba attends races with her. it’s an ongoing joke in the fandom that pato has the biggest crush on her, which has never been denied nor confirmed lol but they’ve never posted each other on their feeds before so the rumors are rumoring

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patriciooward

liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 108,924 others

patriciooward: Pre-Season recharging with some sea salt. Also pictured y/ninstagram on the phone with God. 🌊🍌

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y/ninstagram: posting bad pictures of me is becoming a thing i see

patriciooward: Technically, you started it

user74: now what is going on why are they vacationing together

user82: y/n said on her tiktok live that they’re with a bunch of other friends so there’s that

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patriciooward

liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 183,746 others

patriciooward: Good season start 😊 Also pictured y/ninstagram side eying me when I asked if I could try her ramen 🍜

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y/ninstagram: you don’t just ask a girl to have her ramen, even if you got a podium

user13: anyone else noticing how they’re becoming super close after elba’s wedding

user82: I think everyone is noticing alright… elba isn’t even there

user26: they’re so dating

user98: i thought the same thing but literally every interview today was dedicated to pato saying they’re just friends

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y/ninstagram

liked by patriciooward, elbaoward and 20,724 others

y/ninstagram: it’s rawe ceek + pato’s lil hat

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elbaoward: why are you replacing me with another o’ward?

patriciooward: Sorry, she’s my best friend now. You have a whole ass husband

y/ninstagram: u could never be replaced bby girl 😽😽😽

patriciooward: Wow

user82: are we seeing this fam

user23: maybe the best friend gate is all part of pato’s plan to get the girl

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patriciooward

liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 127,924 others

patriciooward: Did the best we could on that race considering the circumstances 🤪 Also pictured y/ninstagram’s sushi eyes 🍱

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y/ninstagram: maybe u didnt win on track but you won best sushi recommendation

user83: they’re so sus but they also don’t even touch when they’re in public… perhaps they are just best friends

user53: who needs touching when pato looks at her like she put the stars up in the sky

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patriciooward

liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 192,246 others

patriciooward: F1 testing done right 🥹 Also pictured y/ninstagram’s face when I got in the car 🧡

view all 2,725 comments

user24: are we still pretending we believe the best friends bullshit

y/ninstagram: this is so crazy to me because i’m honestly here for a shot with lando norris

landonorris: message received 🫡

patriciooward: Mate 😂

user27: that’s the most threatening laugh emoji i have ever seen

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y/ninstagram

liked by patriciooward, elbaoward and 25,935 others

y/ninstagram: it’s indy 500 time + elba being pretty + pato eating something he definitely shouldn’t be eating

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elbaoward: the support system is in need of support

y/ninstagram: we are doing great! (we are crying)

user45: how are we feeling watching the race personally I want to throw up

y/ninstagram: im fine! (i have blacked out multiple times)

user36: oh man… im so glad she’s there after that final lap heartbreak

user26: please give pato our love ❤️ he gave it all

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patriciooward

liked by y/ninstagram, elbaoward and 293,927 others

patriciooward: I woke up with a big smile on my face today, feeling very loved by all of you. Wouldn’t change a thing about my journey so far, I know it will be so special the day my name is written among the stars and I get to experience the magic everyone talks about. Excited for the rest of the season, wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else arrowmclaren 🧡 #indy500

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y/ninstagram: you inspire me every single day. your time will come and it’ll be epic. 🧡

elbaoward: you are a force of nature and the sun ☀️

user83: im sorry i really want to comment about the race and compliment pato but are we just going to ignore the last picture of him and y/n holding hands

user53: are we going to ignore their hug on national tv i really felt like i was interrupting

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y/ninstagram

liked by patriciooward, elbaoward and 35,924 others

y/ninstagram: lover boy + lover boy + lover boy. you’re amazing. 🧡

view all 3,045 comments

patriciooward: 🧡

elbaoward: been a long time coming 🥰

landonorris: 😔

landonorris: jk ive been in on pato’s crush all along

y/ninstagram: 💀

user94: WAR IS OVER

user52: not the hard launch

user85: at least tell us how it happened after friend zoning each other for months

y/nusername: comfort after a heartbreak go crazy

patriciooward: You’re a natural romantic

#f1 #f1 au #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 social media au #indycar #indy 500 #pato o'ward #pato o’ward fanfic #pato o’ward x reader #pato o’ward smau #pato o’ward social media au #pato oward

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magicpiano · 12 days ago

Text

DCXDP demon twins AU where they were separated at birth and don't know about each other. (Maybe Talia wanted to protect at least one of them from life in the league and thought adoption was the best choice? Or something. Doesn't matter.)

Anyway, while on her world tour Dani meets Robin. Naturally Damian thinks she is another clone and either straight up attacks her, is very rude, or both even. Dani isn't ashamed of being a clone, so she readily admits to it when asked directly.

Dani already has a poor opinion on heroes in general, after all what have they done to protect amity park or ghosts from the GIW? Robin being so rude and violent to her when she was just vibing and being friendly? And none of these so called heroes even defending her? Her already low opinion goes into the negatives.

So Dani naturally thinks the justice league, and the bats in particular, are just bigots who hate ghosts and clones. So yeah she wants nothing to do with any of them. But this interaction is enough to make everyone else want to know more about her.

The bats start watching her and it becomes quickly clear that she is nothing like the other clones they have dealt with. Besides the powers (the league is doing science experiments with the pit and clones??? More info needed.) she has a lot of personality and individuality.

She is also a girl, which is odd for a clone of Damian. They come to the conclusion that she is trans. (Whether she is or not is up to you but the bats believe it.) As being trans requires a certain amount of knowledge of yourself and your identity, this just makes them more sure that she is not like the previous clones and shouldn't be treated as such.

She also kind of became a minor hero by accident. It is just if she see something bad happening on her travels and she knows she can help, she does. She never stays anywhere very long, especially if she used her powers, so it is not like she is that famous or anything. But this is how the bats are following her. (This is also how the GIW are following her.)

Anyway the bats decide they need to adopt her of course. She is all on her own! She needs a family! A network of people she can count on! And besides the league is surely searching for their lost powerful clone, so she is in danger. Unfortunately, again, Dani doesn't like any of them and absolutely does not want to join their family.

Identity and miscommunication chaos ensues featuring:

Damian Does Not Trust Her. Look he has so very legitimate trauma around clones, so he is sure this is just a trick. A elaborate ploy because the previous clones didn't succeed. He refuses to let his guard down. While understandable, this does not make it easy for the bats to convince Dani that they don't have anything against clones or metas (which they think she is).

Tim ends up being the only one she will talk to. He doesn't have issues with clones at all really. As a matter of fact he is pretty pro clone. Dani is hesitant around him at first, but when he tells her that Damian also tried to kill him and that they don't get along that well, she opens up. She really starts to like him when he introduces her to Connor, another clone. They start to get along great and Tim is thrilled to have a little sibling that hasn't tried to kill him.

Dick so badly wants to win the title of favorite sibling again but sorry, you lose, she likes Tim. Maybe she would be more friendly towards him if he wasn't so close to Damian, but as it is Dani really doesn't like Damian at all.

Jason is the only one to realize there is something... Dead... about her. Sure they connect her powers to the pit in some way, but they don't understand why Jason is so weird about her. He thinks he is going crazy but he can't help but be convinced that she is literally dead. She feels dead, she smells dead, sometimes when he looks at her from the corner of his eyes she even looks dead. Dani recognizes Jason as at least part ghost, and a bit separate from the rest of the bats, which makes him the only one she is even interested in talking to at first. He really does try to be friendly because he likes kids and feels bad for her, but she just really makes him uncomfortable and brings up memories that he would rather not recall. She recommends he see a ghost doctor. He is like, "what????"

The bats naturally assume that Dani knows their identities, after all the league knows and the other clones knew, why wouldn't she? But nope! She knows nothing about the Waynes. She has no idea why people keep bringing them up. This is also why she hasn't recognized Robin as being identical to Danny (and her). If she ever saw Damian without the mask she would likely assume he was also a clone of Danny.

Duke tries to be friendly towards her, but because of his powers she just looks really weird to him. He can't even properly describe it to the others but she just kind of creeps him out. (Let Dani have creepy little ghost girl energy). Again, Dani thinks this awkwardness is because he doesn't like her. The bats were really hoping Duke would be able to convince her that they don't mind that she has powers but it doesn't work out that well (at least at first).

Cass is thrilled about having a little sister. Little brothers are great but she has some already. Little sister is new and exciting! Admittedly, Dani freaks Cass out a bit too because she is one of the only people that have ever truly hidden from her before. (More than just invisibility, with intangibility and not needing to breathe or have a pulse, she can be truly silent if desired.)

Bruce wants to be a good dad so bad. Yeah he had not always succeed but he refuses to make the same mistakes that Clark made with Connor. He is so sure he can be a good dad to Dani. He tries to tell her that he doesn't care that she is a clone but she just thinks Batman is a fruitloop.

Batman is also a bit freaked out though because she is a seriously powerful heavy hitter and he has no idea how he could fight someone like her. Even more worryingly, how did the league make her? Are they going to make more?

Dani just doesn't understand why the bats won't leave her alone! She left Gotham! Why do they keep showing up wherever she is, including the other side of the planet!? At first she thinks they are hunting her down for the GIW, but they never bring out any ghost weapons so their goals are unclear. She doesn't love being stalked though.

At some point, Dani mentions changing her name (Dani is getting a bit confusing with Danny and she wants to have something a bit more original to her). The bats assume this is a trans thing again. Bruce, who has never gotten to name any of his children, is so excited about this and wants to brainstorm names with her as a bonding activity. She can't fathom why Batman cares about her new name but accepts the baby name book he gave her anyway.

Danny has no fucking clue about any of this. Sure Dani mentioned that she had a run in Robin and told him that Robin was a jerk who hated ghosts and clones, but that was really just a warning against approaching any heroes. She doesn't want to worry him with her new stalkers so she keeps it to herself. He is not happy when he finds out that she was in danger.

When the whole truth finally comes out? So much drama. Damian has a twin? Dani isn't even Damian's clone? Ghosts are real and being hunted by the government? And of course, the biggest plot twist as far as Dani is concerned: Batman is Bruce Wayne!?!? Crazy.

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saintobio · 9 months ago

Text

sincerely yours. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,

notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3

series masterlist -> episode eleven

“It’s a little weird.”

What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming.

She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be.

Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now?

If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place?

She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you.

But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life?

Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all.

Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that?

“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”

“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”

The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”

I wish, Sera thought. “No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?”

“Was he like that with you before?”

“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”

To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty.

“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.”

Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.

“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”

“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point.

Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?”

The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.”

“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”

The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.”

Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”

“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”

“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.”

He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.”

As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet.

The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.

Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”

Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”

“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused.

To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?”

Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons.

Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare.

— —

You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction.

To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.

You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband?

She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married.

Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.

Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else.

Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.

If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.

Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu.

You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal.

It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her.

As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman.

And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong.

Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.

Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own.

Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.

If only you could be like her.

As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.

“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.”

A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?

“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse.

“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”

Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line.

“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots.

The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.”

Oh… “He bought more than one?”

Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony.

“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”

Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.

This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi.

There was no you in that vision anymore.

The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.

You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband?

Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one.

At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free.

Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them.

You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest.

Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?

“Giddy up!”

Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.

My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy.

Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.

“Ah!”

Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part.

“Willow!”

You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.

“Nooo! Willow, no!”

Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.

You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell.

“Willow!”

Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness!

You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all.

That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon.

— —

“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.

“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”

He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”

“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”

…

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”

“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!”

“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!”

The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension.

“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.”

You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”

Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you.

With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.”

To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place.

“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.”

Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy.

“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?”

There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.

But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat.

Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.

“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.”

Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.”

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”

“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…”

Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest.

“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.”

Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind.

It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right?

You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again.

You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself.

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.”

That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever?

Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy.

The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital.

So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you?

“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed.

Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.”

You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son.

Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?

If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined.

And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse.

Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself?

The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage.

You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family.

Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight.

“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.”

You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?”

The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it.

“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.”

Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else.

Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired.

“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?”

She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.”

“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?”

“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.”

You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists.

Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there.

And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi.

“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”

You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera?

You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet.

“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.”

Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.”

Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life.

Both choices had no happy endings.

— —

When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind.

Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were?

He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse.

“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!”

“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?”

Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him?

According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them.

And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you.

Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in.

How sickeningly sweet.

At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality.

It was out of love that he let you go.

You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too.

Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife.

You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore.

So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses?

She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you.

He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off.

And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries.

This woman was all he needed.

But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider.

— —

The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important.

Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it?

You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman.

Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you.

How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it?

Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar.

How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life?

Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate?

God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third?

You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing.

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions.

It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him.

“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”

Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you?

“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.”

Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”

You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget?

As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?”

“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart. “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.”

“Y/N.”

“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.”

“But—”

“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”

— —

It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore.

Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now.

He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway.

As for you, well…

“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?”

He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”

Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire.

These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor.

A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon?

Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news.

“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.”

Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?”

By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy.

“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son.

“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.”

Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?”

Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.”

Monaco? Why would you be there?

Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?”

“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself?

Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here.

Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth.

“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?

“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”

How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over?

“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”

Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now?

Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces?

Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.”

He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.

Yet none of it was given.

And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi?

#series: sincerely yours #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst

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haologram · 4 days ago

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stairway to the stars ☆ l.jh [m]

⤷ part of 'a very seventeen christmas' secret santa event! synopsis: your husband has always been supportive of your dreams - from the sidelines. he stays to himself, he keeps his mouth shut. it's you that can't stop running yours when your co-star is all over him. genre: established relationship au, tiny bit of angst, fluff, smut? pairing: husband!lee jihoon x actress!fem!reader word count: 1.5k...it pained me to stop it here. rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: mentions of jealousy, ideation of infidelity, general relationship dynamics. clit play, kissing, in the backseat...you know the vibes. what to listen to: stargirl interlude - the weeknd, lana del rey ; never lose me - flo milli ; the boy is mine - monica, brandy. author's note: hi baby @monamipencil ♡ i hope you enjoy my little segment for you! i did 1000% pull this out of thin air but please let me know if there is ever anything else i can write for you. much love from your secret santa. ♡

"Don't forget about me, sweetheart." It was one of the few phrases your husband burned in your brain when your career really started taking off. He'd only been your boyfriend then, trying his hardest to prove himself worthy of your affections and time. You promised you wouldn't, over shared bottles of heady Cabernet and stolen kisses. The following years proved most difficult – from fighting over not spending enough time together because of your jobs, to vacationing for months on end without repercussions – you were rising to the top way too fast for him to wrap his head around it.

But never once did his love, loyalty, or respect for you falter. He watched quietly from the sidelines, silently supportive of all your endeavors. He'd grimace inwardly a bit if your lipstick stained anyone else's lips on the big screen, he'd clear his throat one too many times if you shed any tears during a scene. He held your waist at events, a silent reminder that your ascend up the stairway to the stars was in good company.

When you finally got a bit of time for yourself, he made it his priority to become someone more permanent in your life. With eyes that never strayed and a heart that only beat for you, he proposed softly as the two of you took a midnight stroll for the first time in a long time. He apologized for not making it something grand, promising your wedding would be to die for and he'd pull every string possible to give you the honeymoon of your dreams – only for you to stop his rambling with a teary kiss to his lips. Telling your friends the news of the proposal was an exciting feat, until it fell on the ears of multiple of your co-stars. You hadn't ever even spoken of a boyfriend (you had, they just didn't remember), and a few of the men you'd worked with questioned the validity of your engagement, of your relationship – and it eventually got back to Jihoon. Whispers of the startup CEO dating an actress filled his office, side-eyed glances made him uneasy in his own skin and he hated it – he hated that people wouldn't mind their own business.

Needless to say, it pissed him off. He'd never been openly possessive, but a part of him knew that neither of you had an issue understanding where you stood in each other's lives. From dating, to girlfriend, to wife – you'd always been open about who Jihoon was to you and what his presence meant. You never shied away from answering his questions if any, and you proudly presented him as your significant other if he managed to attend any of your events. This alone was enough for the two of you to realize that people in your industry didn't take relationships too seriously, and enough for you to hard-launch your relationship by posting your wedding photos on social media.

The industry did not like that, but you didn't care. You and your agent continued to book role after role, your husband continuing to grow his business and make a name for himself in the world of music production…a stepping stone for him, and the first moment of blood-boiling jealousy you'd ever experienced at the side of Lee Jihoon.

Her hand was on his shoulder as they spoke music, and he swiftly moved out of her grasp, sure. The dance floor was full of couples, a dance floor you'd intended to whisk him onto after reapplying your lipstick in the washroom. Someone Like You by Van Morrison played as you stood a few feet away, your face contorted in a fit of envy as you saw your husband push her hand away, the words I'm married, please don't touch me falling from his lips. The woman grimaced – the same woman you'd starred alongside for three seasons of the very same show you were all celebrating a renewal for tonight – and she shrugged her shoulders, before the dreaded words fell from her own red lips.

"So? She doesn't have to know."

Jihoon looked taken aback, and it was almost like he was a moth drawn to a flame – his eyes landed on you, and the way your jaw was tight with anger as you made your way over.

"Soyoung, nice to see you. Did you lose something here, dearest?" You speak softly, staring at your co-star with eyes of fire. She gave you a sleazy smirk, shaking her head. "Not at all, Y/N. Enjoying the party?" "It's lovely, isn't it? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm feeling a bit under the weather." You gave her a tight smile, your hand wrapping around Jihoon's wrist watch as you pulled him away. He'd never seen you in such a state, eager to get him out of the venue and into the backseat of the black car waiting for you. Your arms were crossed as you sat facing away from him, before he made eye contact with the driver. He raised his brow, and the driver nodded, swiftly raising the partition as Jihoon turned to face you.

"Something bothering you, sweetheart?" He saw the way your shoulders tensed under the wine red straps of your dress, your legs crossed at the knee baring the skin of your thigh under the slit of the skirt. You gave him a glance through the corner of your eye, your lip jutted out in a pout as he cooed at you, making you huff in embarrassment.

"I don't like her." You mutter, "I don't like what she said and I don't like how she was all over you. She's literally my co-star. She knows we're married." "As much as I like your little pout and think you're adorable, I don't like that you're upset. You know I'd never wrong you, especially not like that." He tilts his head at you, making you pinch the bridge of your nose. "I know, Ji. I know." He's not satisfied with your answer, his hand reaching over to graze your knee, biting back his smile at the way your shoulders lose their tension at his touch. Your jaw remains tight, shaking your head in disbelief. "We've been co-stars for three years. You'd think she'd have some fucking respect for me." You were always so calm and collected, never too outwardly expressive of your disdain for people or their actions. He feels almost guilty for the growing tightness in his pants as you click your tongue, facing him as his fingers trace circles into your skin. "You're literally my husband. That's how I introduced you. My husband, Jihoon. Not Lee Jihoon, not the CEO of Ruby Productions, my husband. She's so shameless, I almost pity her." You tongue your cheek with a humorless laugh, and he can't help but feel his cheeks heat at the visual. He's silent as you run a hand through your hair, your earrings swinging as you shake your head again, giving him a pitiful smile.

"I'm sorry, I know this is out of character." You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. He nods, shifting slightly as your hand splays across his thigh. You press a kiss to his cheek, stamping your lipstick on his pale skin when you notice the flush on his cheeks. He clears his throat as you stare at him, a look of disbelief glossing over your eyes as you gape at him.

"You liked it?" "In my defense, you're hot when you're mad." He scoffs embarrassedly, making you huff out a laugh. "Jihoon." "I'm sorry." He presses a kiss to your temple as you roll your eyes. "Are you?" "No." He smiles against your skin, and you feel your cheeks heat as he trails his lips down your neck. "I love you, sweetheart. Just you." "I know, Ji." You sigh, feeling a bit of heat pool in your lower belly as he nips at your shoulder with a hum. "I don't think you do. Maybe I should remind you." Your cheeks grow hot as he gently pulls your thigh over his, his teeth nipping at the shell of your ear as he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your hip. "Now you know how I feel. Everyone always has their hands all over you, like you're not spoken for." You shudder as he slips his fingers under the cotton fabric, smirking against your skin as your hand wraps around his watch. You bite down on your lip as his finger traces your clit, your nails barely digging into his wrist. "Ji, not here." Your body betrays your words, your grip on his wrist loosening as he pulls your thigh higher on his lap. "Why? Aren't you mine?" His voice is sultry as you shiver against him, slim fingers collecting your arousal while he nips at your ear.

"Yes, but-" "Oh, there's a but?" He slides a finger inside you easily, your words getting caught in your throat as you whimper. "Hoonie…" "Tell you what, pretty." He slips his hand out as the car slows to stop, the front of the hotel you're staying at coming into view. "We're going to go upstairs and you're gonna take this dress off for me, and I'll show you who the brightest star in my sky is. Go."

You nearly stumble as your husband walks out behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he bids the driver goodbye. You feel his teeth on your shoulder, his voice low as he speaks into your ear.

“And keep those heels on for me."

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jungshookz · 1 month ago

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teeny tidbits: jungkook gets hurt during practice and the only thing y/n has in her backpack are miffy bandaids

➺ pairing; quarterback!jungkook x librarian!y/n

➺ genre; university!au!!! sfw!! soft soft fluff!! jungkook and y/n are so fond of each other wowowow it actually makes me physically nauseous please get a ROOM

➺ wordcount; 1k

»»————- ♥ ————-««

“ow!” jungkook hisses, wincing as you dab against the scrape on his arm with a cotton ball that’s been drenched in a generous amount of warm water, “ow…”

“sorry, i know…” you mutter, trying your best to be as gentle as possible as you reduce your pressure (you were already going feather light but jungkook has always been a big baby with cuts and scrapes) and toss the soiled cotton ball aside before reaching for another one in the big plastic bag, “i can’t believe you guys don’t have a proper first-aid kit.”

“it’s taehyung’s fault, coach asked him to restock it and apparently he completely forgot.” jungkook snorts, glancing down at the rusty tin box sitting on the counter next to him - you managed to find it after about fifteen minutes of searching the changing rooms but you were more than disappointed when you opened the rusty old box to find practically nothing but dust

but if this were a real emergency, jungkook would be bleeding out on the ground and all you’d have to try to save your boyfriend is a single q-tip and one dried out packet of rubbing alcohol

luckily, you always carry a mini first aid kit with you in your backpack - last winter you slipped on a rogue patch of ice and ended up falling to the ground, your poor books sliding across the sidewalk and your palms all scraped up and bloody, so ever since then, you’ve been carrying your little pouch with you in case of emergencies

gauze, bandaids, cotton balls, surgical tape, and some hard candies - you have it all!!

“explain to me again what the hell you guys were trying to do out there?”

“taehyung said that when one sense goes dark, the other ones become way stronger and we wanted to test that theory out-“

“so you did this on purpose-“ you pause, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “you blindfolded yourself and ran around the football field on purpose.”

“i thought i had better instincts than this!” jungkook gestures to himself, his kneecaps all scraped up along with a few scratches on his arms, “and my head hurts…”

watching jungkook run into the goal post full force would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the fact that that was literally what happened - he ran full force into a damn goal post and thank god he was wearing a helmet otherwise he probably would’ve knocked himself clean out

“i don’t wanna study anymore.” jennie huffs, leaning back against the benches behind you guys as she props her elbows up on them, “can’t we do something else to pass the time while they’re practicing?”

“i don’t wanna study anymore either, but weirdly enough this is the only time i can really concentrate.” you shrug, keeping your eyes on your laptop as your fingers continue to dance across your keyboard, “is this the only google presentation the professor shared with us this week? i swear there’s another one-“

“all you care about are google presentations and taking notes-“

“it’s coming up to finals season, of course all i care about are google presentations and taking notes-“

KONK!

“oh, shit-!“ you look up when you hear taehyung’s loud laugh travel over to where you’re sitting, your eyes squinting slightly when you notice that jungkook on the ground, “wait, that was kinda sick, actually, we should do that again-“”

“aw, gross!” jungkook gets up from the ground and shakes himself off and that’s when you notice crimson smeared across his legs as he hobbles towards your general direction, taehyung trailing behind him, “yuck, there’s dirt and shit in my cuts-“

“oh my god, jungkook!” you slap your laptop shut and set it aside, grabbing your backpack and practically sprinting down the steps, “are you okay?! what the hell happened?!”

and that’s how you ended up here - patching up your idiot boyfriend with nothing but miffy bandaids because that’s all the store was selling (it was miffy or hello kitty, and you’ve always loved miffy) - and you’ve practically used up the entire pack at this point

“i just think that you have to think about whether or not an idea sounds stupid before deciding to do it.” you huff, tossing another soiled cotton ball into the bin before peeling open the thin wrapper for the bandaid

“well, how am i supposed to know if an idea is stupid or not?”

“you didn’t think blindfolding yourself and running around a football field was stupid?”

“no, i thought it was an innovative training technique that’s been undiscovered by coaches in the world of football!” jungkook perks up, sticking a finger up into the air before shutting his eyes so that you can tend to the little scratch above his eyebrow

you settle in between his legs from where he’s sitting up on the counter and he instinctively reaches down to place both his hands a little above your waist before giving you a squeeze, “thank you, by the way.” he says softly, and you can’t help help but smile before leaning forward to press a little kiss to the corner of his mouth

“you’re welcome. i’m gonna need a new box of miffy bandaids because you literally used up the entire thing.” you can’t help but frown as you place the last one on his brow bone, “on the bright side, you look really cute with miffy bandaids, so i don’t regret giving them all to you. but you seriously have to stop trying to kill yourself during practice.”

“i’m more of a hello kitty guy, to be so real.” jungkook opens his eyes, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before pulling away, “and you worry too much about me.”

“you worry too little!”

🎙️ ask y/n what kind of candy is in her first-aid pouch (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai, they miss you!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!)

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ew-selfish-art · 1 year ago

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DpxDc AU: What’s an adoption paper or two between bros?

Danny is starting to realize that since Jazz left the house for university, his parents aren’t really good at well, being his parents. They’re obsessed with his alter ego to the point that they ignore his normal ego, and that uh, hurts his feelings. Like, a lot. Meal times have gotten weirder and more inconsistent, and he’s starting to wonder if they suspect what’s really going on with him.

They’ve started to say “You know you can tell us anything” these days when he sees them outside their lab (which isn’t frequent) but the normal amount of ghost hate speech hasn’t changed. If anything it’s gotten worse. Just like everything else.

Danny joined the whole-ass justice league to fill his spare time after high school and his parents are literally none the wiser. Like, he's a part time high-school senior at 17 and a full time international hero. His parents only comment on the fact that the menace Phantom is costing them a lot in airline tickets as they try and apprehend him all over the world. Hell, they caught Ellie for a second when he was in Morrocco and it got ugly fast. She's a junior member now but mostly spends her time with some doofus that has a magic traveling house.

And really, he's fine with his schedule of going to school, going ghost and making a difference, and then returning to a dramatically silent house. Really.

Then one day his new friend and co-team lead Red Robin makes a brief mention about his own childhood of neglect and Danny makes a joke, "What, no adoption papers for the homies?"

He laughs as he says it but something in his leader's eyes looks sharp, and Kon is sighing in the background something that sounds suspiciously like dear Rao you've done it now.

Next time Danny is on the Watchtower, he's brought into a meeting with Red Robin, Batman and various other JL team leaders.

"Adoption papers are very much for the homies. I've also included the option of emancipation, as you'll see in the green folder, but I am one hundred percent serious about adopting you."

"Red, you're like, 3 months younger than me." Danny deadpans.

"Adoption is for the homies and I'm emancipated. And If i'm reading Batman correctly, you're facing three outcomes right now."

"Three?"

"One: I adopt you and you become my legal dependent. Two: Batman adopts you and I become your legal brother. or Three: You emancipate yourself while allowing us to provide for you while your housing situation is sorted out."

"... Uh. Door one?" Danny is having too many feelings. Why does batman look disappointed? What is Jazz going to say? What on earth???

"Welcome to the Drake Family." Red shakes his hand up and down, the grin on his face feral and the plan towards being emancipated from the Fentons and adopted by his boss is a weird one.

But eventually, a few weeks later, he's had a pretty delicious dinner by his new adoptive grandfather-tler and is watching a movie with Tim and Kon on the couch and he's just so happy and comfortable and warm...

"Will this make Kon my dad if you two get married?" Danny laughs and it's the closest he gets to being disowned.

#Jazz dating Jason seriously in the background and looking at her bf like 'wait why is my brother now your nephew??' and jason has to explain #his family is just like that #tim adopts danny au #adoption is for the homies #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #dc x dp fic

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maldaptivedreamer · 18 days ago

Text

...Ride A Cowboy - Arcane

It’s been quiet, suspiciously quiet, since John skipped town. His presence lingers in your mind, haunts your home. And despite the time that has passed, the strain between you and your mother remains. It may have eased slightly, but it's still there, hiding in every word and whispered with every civil greeting.

And then there's Sevika.

A new kind of tension manifests itself between the two of you. You find yourself stealing glances at Sevika more often than you'd like to admit. Her presence on the ranch has become a constant, almost comforting in its familiarity. Yet there's an undercurrent of something else, a spark that ignites whenever your eyes meet or your hands accidentally brush.

content: Sevika x fem reader, errors/mistakes, wild west au, outlaw/cowboy sevika, young adult sevika, strained mother/daughter relationship, homophobia, fighting/violence, death/murder, blood, gun/knife, name calling, canon character cameos, wlw smut, choking kink cameo, spitting kink, praise kink, pain kink, spanking, grinding, fingering, cunnilingus, tribbing, angsty ending, slow burn where??

wc: ~14.2k

a/n: What’s up gang, this part is gonna end pretty angsty so beware of that. Ignore the song choice being totally inaccurate to whatever time this is placed in. I couldn't not pick the "Save A Horse, Ride A Cowgirl" cover by Chloe Breez and Annapantsu for this story. Not really significant in the story tho. Hope to have the 3rd part done and finished soon. Taglist open, just lmk!!

MINORS DNI NSFW 18+

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Wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, you glance back at her. “You done already?”

She lets out a soft hum of affirmation and leans against the door, her silver eyes following your every move as you strain to lift a large bundle of hay into a wheelbarrow.

Her gaze lingers on you, admiring you. The corners of her mouth curl up in a mischievous smirk as she speaks up. “You know when I met you, you were wearin’ a skirt. You only save them for special occasions?”

You grunt as you hoist the large bundle onto the wheelbarrow, panting. “I wear ‘em when I can.” You reply with a shrug, shooting her a smile as you adjust the gloves on your clammy hands. “What can I say?… I like my skirts and I like my pants.”

As you push the wheelbarrow out to the horse pasture, Sevika trails behind you. Her slow, admiring gaze travels from your hat down to your booted feet. You feel heat rise to your cheeks under her intense gaze.

"I really do like your skirts." She says, her voice low and husky. She glances down at you, licking her lips. "And I like your pants too, angel." The intensity of her stare makes your core ache with desire.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your bashful smile as Sevika steps closer to you. The heat of her breath dances across your tingling skin as she grasps your face in her hand, the roughness of her callused fingers pressing into your cheeks as she squeezes them.

A teasing glint sparkles in her eye as she scolds you. "You seem to do that a lot, sweetheart." She says, her voice laced with amusement. “That rollin’ your eyes nonsense may get you into trouble one day.”

Chewing on your lip, you look at her through a veil of heavy eyelashes. “Maybe I like trouble, Sev.” You reply coyly.

A smirk curls on Sevika's lips as she rubs her thumb just beneath your bottom lip and you shiver. “Sev huh?” She says with amusement.

“Mhmm.” You hum, unable to suppress a smile.

Sevika's large stallion nudges between you, interrupting the moment and causing both of you to break away with a laugh. You send her an amused glance before turning your attention to the horse, petting him affectionately. “Yah know, you never told me what his name was.”

She takes a step back, her eyes flicking over to you with a questioning glance. “He doesn’t have one. Why would I need to give him one?”

Your eyes widen in shock as you gape at her. Blinking rapidly, you wave your hands at him. “Why wouldn’t you give him a name!? He deserves one!”

“What like Honey?” She sends you a look and you glare at her. “He's a horse. He doesn't need a name."

Your glare falls as you gasp dramatically, placing your hands over his ears. "Don't listen to her, boy. She doesn't know what she's talkin’ about." You coo at the horse, stroking his mane.

Sevika watches you with amusement, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Fine… What do you think?"

You pause, studying the stallion intently. You shrug. "You know him better than I do. What do you think?”

Sevika snorts, her nostrils flaring in exasperation. "I don’t know. Stubborn shit."

Sending her a smirk, you laugh. "Must take after his rider." Sevika rolls her eyes in response, and you give the horse’s cheek another soft pat. “Maybe just take some time to think on it.”

Sevika silently watches as you hum in the silence, spoiling the large horse with attention.

Suddenly, her stance changes. Glaring at the sky, Sevika sets her hands on her hips, her frustration palpable. “Why’d your mom keep him ‘round for so long?” She asks bluntly.

You briefly pause before continuing to brush your hand over the stallion’s nose, lost in thought. Sighing through your nose, your voice is quiet and contemplative. “She wanted me to marry him.” Your hand falls from the stallion.

Feeling the need to distract yourself, you move to the wheelbarrow and attempt to lift a bundle of hay above your head and into the feeder. Your arms tremble with effort. “But we got plenty a’ ranch hands, so I don’t mind runnin’ everythin’ myself.” You grit out with a grunt.

Sevika's lips curl up as she watches you struggle. She slowly shifts closer, her silver eyes sparkling.

Seeing her move to help you, you frantically shake your head. “Hey! I can-”

Ignoring your protests, she gently pushes you aside and effortlessly tosses the hay into the feeder. Giving you a cocky smirk, she silently returns to her spot and you gape at her.

Her smirk widens as she leans back, looking down her nose at you. "Careful, angel." She taunts playfully. “You might catch somethin’ with your mouth wide open like that.”

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you give her an indignant shout, quickly turning to cover your face. Your voice trembles with flustered frustration as you continue. “As I was sayin’… I don’t need a husband to take care of. Mama’s just worried I’ll be lonely, I guess.” Your words become quieter and more guarded.

“No one in town good enough for you?” She pries.

Avoiding her gaze, you scratch at your neck nervously. “I-I don’t think so, no… Plus they don’t really like me, so…” You trail off.

Scoffing in disbelief, Sevika's voice grows indignant. “Why wouldn’t they like you?”

Rolling your eyes, you groan. “Well, it doesn’t matter. There’s not really anyone who’s uhh- my type. Yah know?” You finish with an awkward shrug, feeling self-conscious under her intense gaze.

With a playful nudge, she raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what’s your type, angel?”

Avoiding the question, you forcefully fling off your gloves and toss them into the wheelbarrow. Rubbing your hands over your face in frustration, you begin to pace back and forth.

“Well they don’t like me, cause of this dumb rumor. Somebody started goin’ round town spreadin’ this rumor that I like women. Which means that people keep their distance from me.” You confess, angrily etching a path in the dirt with your steps. “I mean, some of them are nice to my face, but-”

“Do you?” She interrupts, her voice intense but devoid of judgement.

You chew your lip nervously, studying her features for any sign of disapproval. Releasing a shaky breath, you shrug helplessly as your arms flop down by your sides. “I- I think I do… I- I like women.” You finally confess, stuttering over your words. “Have for a- a long time, I guess.”

Her voice is husky and alluring as she gazes at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “Come here.” She commands.

Your heart flutters in your chest at her tone, your breath catching in your throat as you take hesitant steps towards Sevika.

She reaches out and hooks a finger into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you closer until your bodies are pressed together. Your pulse races as she looks down at you, her silver eyes darkening with desire.

"There's nothin' wrong with likin' women." Sevika purrs, her thumb tracing small circles on the skin of your hip. "Nothin' at all."

You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don't think it's… wrong?"

Sevika shakes her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. "No, angel. I think it's just fine."

Her hand glides up your arm, leaving a trail of raised hairs and goosebumps in its wake. Her hand lingers at your throat, fingers wrapping around the base with a light but firm squeeze. A gasp escapes your lips as you lean into her touch; her chest rumbles against you as she chuckles.

With a gentle lift of her hand under your chin, she tilts your head upwards. She drags her thumb over your bottom lip, tracing the curve in tantalizing slow motion.

Flicking your tongue out, you stare at her beneath your eyelashes as you nip at the tip of her thumb. She releases your lip with a grunt and your eyes drift closed as you feather your lips against hers in a tentative peck. Your lips barely touch and Sevika resists the urge to smile at your timidness.

Swallowing nervously, you grow more desperate for her you kiss her again, deepening the kiss.

Her lips are like velvet against yours, moving with a practiced ease. You let out a small moan as she guides your movements, her hand threading through your hair, the other squeezing the plushness of your hip. Your body responds eagerly, melting into her touch as your hands find their way to rest on her cheeks.

A small whimper escapes you as Sevika's tongue traces your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You part your lips, and her tongue slides against yours. The taste of her overwhelms your senses - a hint of mint and tobacco, mixed with something uniquely Sevika.

Your inexperience shows in the slight awkwardness of your movements, but Sevika doesn't seem to mind. She pulls you closer, bending her knee and grinding you onto her thigh.

Your legs tremble beneath you at the sensation and your hands fly to her shoulders for support. She consumes the moan that escapes your lips as she rubs your core against the muscle of her thigh.

Sevika breaks the kiss, both of you breathing heavily. As you look up at her, you notice a dark wave of arousal hiding the grey of her eyes. "You okay, angel?"

You can only nod, unable to form words as your lips tingle. Every nerve in your body hums with a desperate hunger for more.

Sevika's thumb traces your swollen bottom lip, forehead resting on yours. "Been wantin' to do that for a while now." She admits with a raspy chuckle.

Your heart races at her words, a mix of excitement and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. "Me too." You reply breathily, your fingers clenching the fabric of her shirt as you grind against her thigh. “I- Can we do more?” You plead.

She nods, her intense gaze locked on yours as her hands find their way to your hips, grinding you down onto her knee. "Like what, angel?" She teases, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Leaning in closer, your lips brush against Sevika's ear as you whisper desperately. "Everything. I want to feel you." You whimper.

A low growl rumbles in Sevika's chest at your words, a primal sound that sends shivers down your spine. In one fluid and powerful motion, she grasps the back of your thighs and effortlessly lifts you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around her waist as she carries you to her horse, your heart racing with excitement.

"Where are we going?" You ask, trying to steady your voice but failing as it trembles with anticipation.

"Somewhere more private." Sevika murmurs.

She carefully places you onto the horse's back before swinging on behind you. The saddle is a tight fit with both of you on it, but you hardly notice as Sevika's hand falls to the horn of the saddle. You gasp as her other hand moves under your shirt and fans over your stomach. Bending to your ear, she hoarsely mumbles into your skin. “Found a spot that I think you’ll like, angel.”

Your cheeks flush as heat spreads down to your chest and further to fill your core. You can feel the muscles in Sevika's thighs clench as she urges the horse forward.

With each trot, Sevika's hand on the saddle grinds into you, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “Sevika, how far is it?” You whine, desperate for release.

Pecking your cheek, she hums. “It’s not far, angel. Surely you can be patient for me, can’t you?”

With tears in your eyes and a pleading grip on her hand, you guide it further down to your stomach. “Can’t. I need you, please.”

Biting at your jaw, she cups your core and grinds her palm against you. “Look at you angel, so desperate.” Sevika mocks.

Your hand grips tightly onto her thigh as the other holds her hand against the heated pool between your legs. Your hips buck eagerly into her palm as breathy moans escape your lips.

"That's it, angel. Let me hear those pretty sounds." Sevika purrs into your neck, sucking on a spot below your ear.

You whimper as her fingers increase the pressure against you through the denim. The roughness of the material combined with the rhythmic movement of the horse beneath you creates an intoxicating sensation that has you squirming in the saddle with pleasure.

Sevika's arm wraps tightly around your waist, steadying you. "Easy there, angel." Her warm breath tickles your ear as she whispers softly. "Don't want you fallin' off now."

"Sev, please." Your words come out in gasps, your head falling back against her broad shoulder.

Her words are teasing, taunting. ”What would you have me do, angel? Stuff you full of my fingers where anyone can see?” She pauses, letting out a degrading laugh. “But maybe you would like that, wouldn’t you? If I shoved my fingers knuckle-deep inside of you and showed everyone that you were mine to touch.”

Her lips brush against your skin as she drags her nose up your cheek.

“Oh, but I could never do that to you, sweet girl. I’m greedy.” She growls, her teeth possessively sinking into the skin between your neck and shoulder. “I don’t wanna bless anyone with the noises that fall from your pretty lips. Those are only mine to hear.”

A low growl rumbles in her chest as she nuzzles closer to you, her hand trailing down your side. Your fingers tangle in her hair as she soothes the bite mark with her tongue. "We're almost there." She murmurs reassuringly against your skin.

True to her word, Sevika soon guides the horse off the path and through a small gap between the trees.

You gasp as it comes into view. Surrounded by tall grass and wildflowers, is a beautiful garden. The colors of the flowers range from vibrant pinks to soft oranges, creating a peaceful and enchanting atmosphere.

Carefully dismounting from the horse and leading it further into the lush foliage, she guides you off of the stallion with a gentle touch.

Lowering you down onto the soft grass, her body hovers above yours. Sevika's eyes roam over your face, searching for any flicker of hesitation. "You sure about this, angel?" She asks, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and anticipation.

Wordlessly, you grip her shirt and guide her onto your body. Your hands tremble as you press a desperate kiss to her lips, craving the taste of her. As you roll on top of her, straddling her toned frame, a low whimper escapes your throat. You instinctively move your hips, seeking relief for the intense ache between your legs. She sits up, her body moving in perfect sync with your thrusts.

With a sharp intake of breath, you release a guttural moan that echoes through the air as you throw your head back in ecstasy. Her lips travel down your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your skin. Her hand fans against your back while the other squeezes your ass, rolling your hips into her.

Her name escapes your lips in a breathless gasp. You look at her with desire-filled eyes, drinking in the sight of her heaving chest and tangled hair. Stray blades of grass cling to her disheveled strands. With a burst of energy, you push yourself off of her and hold out your hands. “I’ll be right back!” You promise hoarsely before rushing off towards the stallion.

Your heart races with adrenaline, your fingers fumbling with the saddle buckles in your haste. Tossing off the saddle, you snatch the blanket from the horse's back.

As you approach her, panting and flushed with arousal, her expression transforms from confusion to delight as she watches you spread out the blanket on the ground. Sevika's eyes soften as you carefully smooth out the corners, her heart swelling with an unfamiliar warmth at your thoughtfulness.

Shifting onto the blanket, she reaches for you, pulling you back into her arms. “Well don’t you know how to treat a lady, angel.” She teases, brushing a stray hair from your face and admiring you. "You're somethin' else, you know that?"

You blush under her intense gaze, suddenly feeling shy. "I just… I want this to be special." You tell her earnestly.

Sevika cups your face in her hands, her thumbs stroking your cheeks. "It already is, angel." She reassures you with a soft smile.

Her tenderness catches you off guard, making your heart flutter. You look up at her, searching her silver eyes. For what exactly, you’re not sure. "Did you mean what you said… before? About being yours?" You ask hesitantly.

Sevika nods without hesitation, her silver eyes only growing softer as she gazes at you. "I did. Do." Leaning in, you capture her lips in a clumsy kiss.

Sevika gently rolls you onto the blanket, not separating from your lips. You arch into Sevika's touch as she slowly lifts your shirt, her calloused hands caressing your bare skin. A shiver runs through your body, echoed by the flutter in your core. Sevika breaks the kiss to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside.

You whimper softly as Sevika trails kisses along your collarbone and down towards your breasts. Your hands tangle in her hair as she moves lower, teasing you through the thin fabric of your bra. With deft fingers, she stretches it over your head, leaving you exposed.

Sevika takes a moment to admire you, her eyes dark with desire. "You're perfect, angel." She says before slowly, torturously slowly, leaning in to capture one of your nipples between her teeth, flicking her tongue over it teasingly.

A guttural moan escapes your lips and your hands eagerly push underneath her shirt, nails raking over her back. She responds with a low moan and a shiver.

Her fingers, skilled and experienced, unbutton your pants effortlessly. As she slips her thick, warm fingers into your panties, she growls in approval at the wetness that greets her.

She gives your nipple a tantalizing roll between her teeth before releasing it with a wet pop.

As Sevika's thick finger dips into you, coated in your slick arousal, you gasp and spread your legs wider around her. Her intense gaze never falters as she watches your face intently. Her other hand soothingly rubs your thigh as she whispers in your ear. "You’re gorgeous, angel." She whispers, planting a series of soft kisses along your jaw. "So pretty spread out for me."

Every touch and whisper from Sevika's lips sends a shiver down your spine. You force yourself to relax into her ministrations, letting go as she circles your clit with her thumb. The rough pad leaves you moaning and clawing at her shirt.

"That's it, angel." Sevika encourages, adding another finger and curling them both inside you. "You sound so pretty and I wanna hear more. Will you give me more?" Her husky voice rumbles through your chest and you nod eagerly.

Speaking past a pleasured cry, your voice warbles with need. “Need more Vika. Wanna see you.” With shaky fingers, you reach for the hem of her shirt and lift it.

Sevika chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that sends another wave of heat through you. She withdraws her fingers, eliciting a whine from you. But your disappointment is short-lived as she swiftly rips her shirt open, revealing taut muscles and her soft breasts. A white bandage wraps around her stomach and some of your lust fades as you stare at it.

"Better?" She purrs, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You feel her hands pulling your pants down your legs, the cool air hitting your skin as your panties fall with them.

Pausing, you press your hands to her chest. “Wait, Sevika. Your stomach. Should we be doing this?” You ask, concerned.

Bending to leave wet kisses on your neck, she mumbles. “I’m fine, angel. Don’t worry about me.”

Sevika’s fingers return to their place in your warmth while her lips find yours. She inhales the surprised gasp that falls from your tongue. She consumes every muffled gasp, every desperate moan.

Your hands roam over her skin, careful of her wound, tracing the lines of her muscles and the curves of her body. She shivers under your touch, breaking the kiss to let out a soft moan as your breasts rub against hers.

With a wet peck to your cheek, Sevika lowers herself between your legs and your hands reluctantly fall from her skin. Rising on your elbows, you watch as she trails kisses down your stomach before her mouth reaches your core. Her eyes darken at the sight and scent of you, and she growls softly before delving into you with her tongue. The sound reverberates through you, and she groans.

Your head rolls back, mouth falling open in a silent plea as you grind against Sevika. Your core clenches at the wet sounds of Sevika's fingers moving inside you.

A sharp intake of breath escapes your lips as she roughly shoves her fingers into you, causing you to yelp in surprise. Your head whips towards her, eyes wide and pleading as she stills. With a harsh suck, she parts from your throbbing clit, her voice a breathy rasp. “Watch.” She demands.

Tears cloud your eyes as you nod, your arms trembling. Her dark eyes gleam with satisfaction as she flicks her tongue out with a harsh lick and a smirk playing on her lips. “Good girl."

“Please, Sevika.” You shakily beg.

Sevika pulls you closer, her arm wrapping around your thigh as she brings you deeper into her mouth. Her warm tongue flattens against your clit as her thick fingers curl inside you with each thrust. Your moans blend with her satisfied groans and skin slapping against skin.

“You taste heavenly, angel.” She praises before diving back into you.

Your hand tightens around hers on your thigh, while the other twists and pulls at her hair. Your body curls, every muscle tensing as a deep, guttural moan escapes your lips. “S’vika!”

As you approach your peak, drool trails down the corner of your lips. Your eyes water as you struggle to keep them open, finding yourself powerless against Sevika's intense grey gaze that holds you hostage as she watches you.

With one hand clenched tightly around both of your fumbling hands, Sevika's fingers continue to twist inside you. Her tongue continues its relentless movements without faltering or slowing down at your cries.

Overwhelmed, you whine. “Vika, I can’t.”

Your trembling thighs tighten around her head as she pulls her slick fingers from your body. Her glistening fingers fall to your thigh as she hungrily devours you, running her tongue up your slit before filling you. Sevika eagerly drinks every drop you have to offer, her mouth a wet and sloppy mess on your core. You can feel the pressure mounting within you again.

Sevika's mouth licks and sucks at your pussy, pushing you towards a second climax. You're teetering on the edge, your hands clawing against her restrictive hand as your breasts heave with each panting breath.

"Sevika, please." You gasp, your voice hoarse and desperate. "I can't take anymore." You sob.

But she doesn't let up, her gaze ravenous as she continues her ministrations. You feel yourself climbing higher and higher, your muscles tensing as the pressure builds.

With a light drag of her teeth on your sensitive nub, you're sent hurtling over the edge. A strangled cry tears from your throat as your back arches off the blanket. Your vision goes white as waves of pleasure crash over you, more intense than before.

Sevika works you through your orgasm, her movements gentler now as she eases you down from your high.

With one final swallow, she rises up and licks her shimmering lips, a satisfied smile on her face. Your entire body is still tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasms and your eyes dilate as she thrusts her fingers into her mouth. Letting out a deep groan, her eyelids flutter as she savors the taste of you on her tongue.

Reaching for your chin, she grasps your cheeks tightly and pulls your mouth open. You instinctively outstretch your tongue.

She drops a mixture of your essence and her saliva onto your waiting tongue, watching intently as it gathers on the pink of your tongue. With a rough shake of your chin, she mumbles darkly. “Swallow, angel.”

The feeling of her touch sends shivers down your spine as you comply with her demand. She grunts, eyes falling down to your throat as you swallow, rubbing her slick thumb over your lips roughly before withdrawing her hand.

Sevika collapses beside you, pulling you into her arms. You curl into her warmth, your body still trembling slightly. She presses soft kisses to your forehead, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin.

"You okay, angel?" She murmurs, her voice tender.

You nod, nuzzling into her neck. "More than okay." You whisper. "That was… Thank you."

"You did so well, angel." She says, tilting your chin up to look at her. Her silver eyes are soft as they roam your face. "So perfect for me."

A blush creeps up your cheeks at her words. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “You’re awful good with your hands, cowboy.” You murmur against her mouth.

Sevika chuckles, her body shaking beneath you as looks at you in amusement. "Just my hands?" She smirks, a teasing glint in her eyes.

A playful glint sparks in your eyes as you roll them, but your grin only grows wider. Your thumb traces over her plump lips, eliciting a flicker of her tongue against the soft pad. “Maybe your mouth has its uses too.” You purr, teasingly.

"Well, I’m yours to use and put to work, angel." She winks before capturing your lips again, claiming your mouth as sloppily as she did your pussy.

Brushing a thumb over her pebbled nipple, you slowly draw a line down her stomach, tracing the curve of her body. As you reach for the button of her pants, her hand stops you, halting your movements.You feel a twinge of embarrassment, thinking that maybe she doesn't want you to pleasure her in return.

Sensing your embarrassment, she gently lifts your face by your chin and meets your eyes with a soft smile. “As much as I want you angel, this was about you. You can take care of me some other time, hmm?”

You bite down a giddy smile. “Another time?” You say shyly.

She lets out a scoff and leans back, tugging you with her until you're lying on top of her. Her hand rests on the small of your back, pulling you closer to her body.

“Yeah, another time… What? Did you think that once was good enough for me angel?” Her chest puffs underneath you. “Told you, angel. You’re mine. You taste heavenly. And I don’t plan on giving that up anytime soon.”

You press a kiss to her neck with a pleased grin. Snuggling even closer to her, your fingers trace delicate patterns on the soft skin just below her breast.

Her grip tightens and she gives you a light squeeze. “You effectively reassured now, angel, or do I need to whisper some more sweet nothin’s?” She sounds equally condescending and caring.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, followed by a cocky shrug. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear how sweet and perfect and heavenly I am.” You mumble with a smirk that more closely resembles a gleeful beam.

Sevika's lips curl up into an amused simper. “Oh, it’d hurt plenty. As sweet as you are, seems the more I tell you, the brattier you get. Wouldn’t want to spoil you.”

With an incredulous gasp, you lift your head. “Bratty? I am not bratty nor spoiled cowboy.” You protest, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably as a mischievous grin spreads across your face. “I am perfectly humble and grounded.”

Before you can argue further, her hand comes down with a sharp smack on your bare ass. A yelp escapes your lips as a flush creeps over your skin.

“Maybe you’re just perfect for everyone else, angel, but on our way over here, you were anything but. Used my hand to get off, angel, right out in the open.” She rasps out teasingly.

With a playful tap on your backside, she begins to knead it beneath her palm. “But we can do that later, right, angel? We have plenty of time to work on your manners.” Your body shivers in response and you nervously lick your lips before nodding. “Good girl.” She mumbles against the crown of your head.

As you both lay in each other's embrace, the outside world begins to invade your peaceful bubble.

Fiddling with her finger, you frown as you look up at her. “I- I don’t wanna hide this but my mama…” Your voice trails off as you swallow the lump in your throat, speaking in a whisper. “I think she knows, but she’s ignorin’ it. Just hopin’ that it’ll go away.” You say stiffly.

Pressing your face into Sevika’s skin, you let her scent, her touch, comfort you. “That’s- that’s one of the reasons I’ve been such a cunt to her. Cause it feels like she wants me to be different. Like she’ll only love me until she can’t ignore it anymore. Until I don’t let her ignore it.”

Smoothing a hand over your back, her voice is steady in promise. “Well, I’ll be here with you either way.”

You nod against Sevika's skin, comforted by her words but still anxious. "Thank you." You murmur softly. "I just… I don't know how to tell her."

Sevika's hand continues its soothing motions. "We'll figure it out together, angel. There's no rush. We can take it slow, tell her when you're ready."

You lift your head to meet her eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Together, huh?"

She nods, her silver eyes soft but determined. "Together."

As the sun dips lower in the sky, you snuggle closer to Sevika's body heat. "We should probably start headin’ back." You say reluctantly with a sigh, pushing yourself to your feet.

Sevika watches you slowly dress, her hand propped up behind her head. A smile tugs at her lips as she sends you small glances and laughs when you roll your eyes while pulling on your shirt.

“You know, you’re a real bad influence.” You playfully scold her. “Made me miss a whole day of work.”

Chuckling, she sits up and puts on her own shirt. “A bad influence, huh? Didn’t hear you complainin’ much when you were cummin’ on my fingers, angel.”

With a gentle hand on your calf, she pulls you towards her. Lifting the hem of your shirt, she trails kisses along your navel. You resist the growing hunger inside of you and instead press your hands to her cheeks. Tipping her face up, you give her a pointed look at her roguish smirk.

Licking your lips, you place a chaste kiss on her nose. “Easy cowboy. Wasn’t complainin’. I like your influence on me… Can’t wait to return the favor.”

Pressing a thumb to her bottom lip, you give her a light peck. “Can’t wait to taste you. To hear your pretty sounds while you ride my tongue.” Pulling away, you send her a heated smirk as you turn. “How’s that phrase go, ‘Save A Horse’…”

Your teasing words leave Sevika momentarily speechless, her eyes darkening with desire. She quickly recovers, a low chuckle rumbling in her chest as she stands and pulls you back against her.

"Careful, angel." She murmurs in your ear, her hands roaming your sides. "Keep talkin' like that and we might not make it back to the ranch."

You lean into her touch, tempted to give in to the heat building between you once again. But the fading light reminds you of your responsibilities back home.

With a tempted grunt, you turn in Sevika's arms and press a soft kiss to her lips. "As much as I'd love to stay out here with you all night, we better head back before my mama sends out a search party."

Sevika chuckles, snatching up the blanket and intertwining her fingers with yours as you walk back to the horse. "Wouldn't want that. Though I'm not sure how we'll explain why we were gone so long."

You bite your lip. "We'll think of something. Maybe we can say we were… exploring new grazing land for the animals?"

Sevika raises an eyebrow, smirking as she drops your hand. "Exploring, huh? That's one way to put it."

You playfully swat her arm, but can't help your giggle. "You’re right. I’ll just tell her that we were exploring each other’s supple and womanly bodies." Your sarcastically retort, helping her resecure the saddle.

As you both mount her stallion, you sigh leaning back into her. “I won’t tell her what we were doin’, but if she directly asks, I won’t deny it. I meant it when I said I don’t wanna hide this, hide you.”

Wrapping her arms around you, she grips the lead and presses her nose into the skin of your shoulder. She tries to disguise the emotion in her voice as you caress her forearms. “That’s good, angel, cause you look thoroughly fucked and I’m not sure how you’ll be able to hide it.”

A burst of laughter escapes your chest and you roll your head back on her shoulder. “Well can’t say I much mind looking ‘thoroughly fucked’ as you so eloquently put it.” Lowering your hand, you thread your fingers through hers.

As you approach the ranch, the sun has nearly set, casting long shadows across the fields. Your heart races with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Sevika's presence behind you is comforting, her arms wrapped securely around your waist.

Slowly, your mother comes into view. Just a small blurred figure on the porch, but you can already feel the infuriated aura radiating off of her.

Releasing a breath of air in resignation, you mutter. “If you don’t wanna deal with her, then I’m fine bein’ dropped off here.”

Sevika scoffs and your head moves with the motion. “M’ not gonna make you walk.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t nee-”

“‘Specially with the way your legs shook around me earlier.” She interrupts, rubbing her hands over the top of your thighs.

Sevika's teasing words make you flush with heat and you elbow her in the ribs, with a small smile.

"Go fuck yourself." You mutter, though there's no real bite to your words.

“Why do that when I have you to do it for me?” She retorts immediately. Shaking your head, you ignore her as you approach the house.

You can see your mother's figure more clearly on the porch. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, her foot tapping impatiently. The sight makes your stomach clench with anxiety.

Sevika must sense your tension because she gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be alright, angel." She murmurs, her breath warm against your ear. "I'm right here with you."

You nod, taking a deep breath to steel yourself as Sevika brings the horse to a stop in front of the house. Sevika dismounts and you quickly do the same.

Your mother’s gaze follows every movement. Lingering on the way Sevika’s hands gently steady you as you step down, hovering around your waist before falling away. Her eyes narrow on the soft smile that you send the taller woman. Sharpen into a glare as you step into the light, revealing your disheveled appearance.

"Where have you two been?" She demands, her voice sharp with worry and anger.

Already exhausted, you sigh out. “Why? Did you need me here to run your ranch?”

Ignoring your thinly veiled jab, she continues. "I almost sent someone out lookin’ for you!"

A soothing warmth radiates from Sevika's presence behind you, dispelling the lingering anxieties and fears within. “Well I’m glad you didn’t mama.” You sigh out. Turning to face Sevika, you chew on your lip.

Sevika observes you in silence, her expression growing pleasantly surprised as your hands gently frame her face.

With a sudden burst of courage, you rise on your toes and plant a short but sweet kiss on her lips. The radiant glow on your face is almost blinding as you smile, whispering to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Sevika's eyes search your face for any signs of hesitation, but finding none, she nods, sending your mother a glare. Slowly, she makes her way towards her stallion and begins walking towards the stables.

Inhaling deeply, you face your mother with a mix of determination and nervousness. Your mother's face cycles through a range of emotions - shock, confusion, and finally, a flicker of understanding. Her eyes dart between you and the stables, her brow furrowed.

"Mama." You begin, your voice steady despite the trembling in your hands. "I know this isn't what you wanted for me. But, quite frankly, I don’t give a shit.”

You wave your hands in emphasis. “Sevika… she makes me happy. Happier than I've ever been."

Your mother's mouth opens and closes, no words coming out. You take advantage of her silence to continue. "I'm not askin' for your approval. I'm just askin'- tellin’ you to stop ignorin’ it. To see me for who I am, not who you want me to be."

Your mother's lips press into a thin line, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "How long?" She finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's new. Like today new." You admit. "But my feelings… they've always been there. Not just for Sevika, but for women in general…"

You lean onto the porch railing, your eyes searching hers. “And I think you’ve known that for a while.”

A heavy silence falls over the porch. You can hear the distant sound of crickets chirping and frogs croaking fills the air. Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to be consumed by the calmness of the night.

Her voice breaks the stillness, raw with emotion. “I want grandkids.” She croaks.

Dropping your head, a shaky laugh escapes your lips. “And I want kids. But it’s too soon to know if it’d be with Sevika.”

She covers her mouth with trembling hands as she stifles a sob. “I-I love you.” She chokes out between tears. “And I’m gonna try. I want to try.”

She shakes as she wraps her arms tighter around herself. “I’m so sorry.”

You silently watch her curl into herself, not reaching out a comforting hand. The softness in your voice matches the firmness of your words. “I love you too… And while I really wish it wasn’t this hard for you, wish that you didn’t feel sorry for who I am attracted to… I appreciate you trying.” Releasing a heavy breath, you tap the wooden rail and turn to walk away.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. For-for not being there, for not being a mom.” Her voice cracks and you pause, your hand resting on the doorknob.

You don't turn back, but nod in acknowledgement, eyes briefly glancing down at the ground. Letting out a sigh, you twist the doorknob and leave her with her thoughts.

The early morning sun filters through your bedroom window, casting a warm glow across your face. You stretch lazily, a content smile spreading on your face.

You’re fucking gay.

It feels freeing to admit it. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for so long has finally lifted. The past week with Sevika has filled you with a newfound sense of freedom and joy.

As you dress, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. There's a brightness in your eyes that wasn't there before, a confidence in the way you carry yourself.

Heading downstairs, you find your mother already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. There's still a tension in the air between you, but it's different now - less suffocating, more like the growing pains of a relationship in transition.

"Mornin', mama." You greet steadily.

As you look up at her, you notice the redness in her eyes. She responds softly, with a hint of strain in her voice. “Mornin’.”

Your stomach grumbles as you eye the toast and strips of bacon on the table. You can't help but sneak a slice and a few strips before she swats at your hand. With a grunt, you shovel the food into your mouth.

“See y’later.” You manage to muffle through a mouthful of food.

You hear her grumble in disgust as you rush out the front door. Excitedly making your way to the stables, you begin unlocking the stall doors connected to the horse pasture. Each lock softly clicks open and the horses trot out of their stalls.

Honey is waiting patiently in her stall, her soft brown eyes watching you with anticipation. You press your forehead against hers, enjoying the tickle of her mane against your nose.

“How you feelin’ girl?” She responds with a huff and nudges you affectionately. “Alright, you wanna go for a ride?” Laughing, you take a step back from her.

Strong arms envelop you, pulling you into a tight embrace. Startled, you let out a yelp as you're twirled around in a circle. Finally coming to a stop, you lean back into the warmth behind you and catch your breath. “I’d love to go for a ride too, angel.” She whispers in your ear, voice still gravelly with sleep.

Giggling, you swat at her before spinning around to face her. You quickly press a kiss to her plush lips and she follows as you lean back, readjusting your hat. Her arms tighten around your body, pulling you closer to her chest while her own hat sits loosely on top of her head.

“Good mornin’ gorgeous.” You greet her with a grin.

Sevika’s eyes narrow on you. “Mornin’.” Drawing a line on your face with the tip of her nose, she huffs. “What kinda kiss was that angel?” She mumbles discontentedly into your cheek.

Removing your hat, you wrap your arms around Sevika's neck and cover her lips with your own. She lets out a satisfied grunt as her hands wander down to squeeze your rear. Tracing her bottom lip with your tongue, you tilt your head to deepen the kiss.

Sevika lifts you effortlessly, her strong arms gripping your thighs as she presses your back against the wall. You moan as her big hands engulf and knead your ass. Your hats float to the ground, forgotten, as you run your fingers through her silky hair.

You gasp for air as she breaks away from you, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your throat until she reaches your chest. Her hips grind into yours, and your thighs tighten around her. Pulling her hair and she separated from your skin with a wet smack. Moaning, you flatten your tongue on her neck. She groans as you nibble and suck on the sensitive skin.

The sound of awkward shuffling feet and throat clearing breaks through the passionate haze. Both of you turn to see a group of ranch hands standing at the entrance to the stables, their eyes wide and faces flushed with embarrassment. Each one looks anywhere but directly at you two entangled in each other.

With a soft sigh, Sevika slowly releases her hold on you and takes a step back. You linger on the wall and roll your eyes at the unmoving ranch hands nearby. Dusting off your hats, Sevika gently places your hat on your head before adjusting her own.

Resuming your task of saddling Honey, you playfully tap Sevika's ass as you pass her. “Ready to ride, cowboy?”

She returns your mischievous grin with a sly wink. “I’m always ready for a ride, angel.”

Saddling your horses side by side, you exchange flirty glances. With a click of your tongue, you hop onto Honey's back.

“C’mon slowpoke.” You tease. “Would hate for your old ass to get left behind.”

Sevika rolls her eyes with a scoff. “My old ass?”

You give her a firm nod. “Remember when you passed out in my arms cause you were tired.”

Narrowing her eyes at you as she swings her leg over the saddle. “Do you mean when I was bleeding out?”

You shrug nonchalantly and scrunch your nose at her as you ride by. “Eh, same difference, cowboy.”

Shaking her head, she follows. “I was right. You’re a real brat, angel.”

“Easy, handsome.” You chuckle out. “Else I’d think you were startin’ to really like me.” With a smirk, you urge Honey faster and take off.

The wind rushes past you as you gallop ahead, Sevika hot on your heels. There’s a playful competitiveness between the two of you as you race down the dusty path.

Giggling, you slow your pace as a familiar set of trees comes into view.

Falling into place beside you, she leans toward you with a playful grin. Her vibrant silver eyes sparkle in the sunlight as she teases. “For the record, I more than just like you, angel.”

As a fuzzy feeling spreads through your stomach, you both move through the trees. The hidden garden is just as enchanting as it was the first time. Budding tulip flowers have begun sprouting among the bouquet of pink and orange wildflowers.

Swinging your leg around, your boots sink into the soft grass. As you reach for the extra blanket you brought, she watches you intently with a hunger in her eyes. You spread out the blanket and turn to face her, slowly starting to undress with a cocky brow.

Her gaze traces over your exposed skin hungrily as she leans forward on her saddle. “Y’know, I’m startin’ to think you just want me for my body, angel.”

Your smile grows wider at her words and you raise a skeptical brow. “And would that be so bad, cowboy?”

Sevika dismounts her horse in one fluid motion, her eyes never leaving yours. She stalks towards you with predatory grace, smirking. "Not bad at all, angel. But I think we both know it's more than that."

She pulls you flush against her body, her hands roaming over your exposed skin. You shiver at her touch, heat pooling in your core. You wrap your arms around her neck, fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape.

"Maybe." You tease, your lips brushing against hers as you speak. "But right now, I just wanna feel you."

Pressing a soft kiss on her bottom lip, your fingers work at the buttons of her shirt. “Taste you.“ You breathe.

Sevika chuckles, the sound low and husky. "Is that so?" Her hands slide down to your hips, squeezing the plush flesh.

Humming your affirmation, you trail kisses down her chest as you gently push her shirt down her shoulders. Sevika's breath catches in her throat and she smooths a hand over your hair as you lower to your knees, gazing at her beneath heavy eyelashes. Unbuttoning her pants, you pull them down with her underwear.

You take a moment to admire her, drinking in the sight of her toned legs and the neat patch of dark hair between her thighs. Licking your lips, you glance up at her with a mischievous smile. "Mind layin’ down for me, cowboy?"

Sevika's silver eyes darken as she nods, her voice husky with arousal. "Sure thing, angel."

She lowers herself onto the blanket. You eagerly move over her, your lips hungrily seeking hers. As your mouths meet, you can feel the quickening of her breath and the tremble of excitement in her lips. Deepening the kiss, you brush your nails through the soft curls between her legs.

Sevika gasps into your mouth as your fingers tease over her. You trail kisses down her neck, savoring the salty taste of her skin. Her hands tangle in your hair as you move lower, lavishing her breasts with attention. You swirl your tongue around a hardened nipple before taking it between your teeth.

A low moan escapes Sevika's throat. Her hips buck up, seeking friction. "Angel." She warns, her voice husky with need.

You smile against her skin, continuing your teasing descent. Pressing a soft kiss to her bandaged stomach, you settle between her legs. The scent of her arousal makes your mouth water.

You press soft kisses along her inner thighs, relishing in the way her muscles twitch beneath your lips. Her hand tangles in your hair, not forceful, just enough pressure to encourage you.

"You look so pretty, Sev." You purr, leaning in close enough that she can feel your warm breath against her sensitive flesh. "So perfect."

With a soft kiss to her mound, you spread her lips open and run your tongue along her slit. Sevika's breath hitches, her fingers tightening in your hair. You moan at the taste of her, your tongue messily exploring her folds.

Sevika's hips buck up against your mouth as you circle her clit with the tip of your tongue. Her thighs tremble on either side of your head. You look up at her through your lashes, drinking in the sight of her chest heaving with each panting breath.

"Fuck, angel." Sevika groans, her voice husky with need. "Just like that." Sevika encourages breathlessly, her hand gently guiding your movements.

Encouraged by her words, you increase the pressure of your tongue, alternating between broad strokes and quick flicks across her sensitive bud. You slip two fingers inside her wet heat, curling them in her like she did you. Your other hand falls to her thigh, holding her steady as you devour her.

Sevika lets out a low groan, her back arching off the blanket. Sevika's breathing grows more ragged, her moans increasing in volume. You can feel her muscles tensing beneath your touch.

"Can you show me those pretty eyes, Sev?" You ask, breaking away for just a moment. Sevika's silver eyes snap open, locking onto yours. The intensity of her gaze sends your own core flooding with need.

You maintain eye contact as you lower your mouth back to her core. You suck her clit between your lips, accidentally brushing the swollen bud with your teeth. She cries out in pleasure, her legs convulsing around you and her hand fisting your hair tightly.

You hum in understanding, the vibrations traveling through her body. You gently press your teeth into the sensitive bundle before soothing it with long, slow licks of your tongue. Adding another finger, you roughly thrust into her.

With a strangled cry, Sevika comes undone, tightening her legs and locking you in place. Her back arches off the blanket, her hand forcefully guiding your head into her core as she grinds herself against your face.

You continue your rough ministrations, teasing her until her grip begins to loosen. Her legs twitch open, releasing you. You press a soft kiss on her inner thigh before crawling up her body, savoring the feel of her skin against your own.

Sevika pulls you into a deep, languid kiss, her tongue tangling with yours. When you part, she's looking at you with a mixture of awe and affection.

"Fuck, angel…" Sevika trails off, still catching her breath.

A surge of pride swells within you at the sight of her trembling thighs. You can't help but grin in satisfaction. "So you like it a little rough, cowboy?”

Sevika chuckles, her chest still heaving slightly. "Seems like you do too, angel." Her hand trails down your skin, brushing her fingers through your soaked folds. "Don't think I didn't notice how loud, how wet, you got."

A blush creeps up your cheeks at her words, but you don't deny it. Instead, you press a soft kiss to her jaw. "Can you blame me? You taste so good, Sev."

Her silver eyes darken at your words. In one swift motion, she flips you onto your back, hovering over you. "My turn, angel." She growls, her voice husky with renewed desire.

Your breath catches in your throat as Sevika forcefully spreads your legs apart. She crosses her leg over yours, the heat of her skin radiating into yours. Her hand tightens around your leg, holding it in place as she lowers herself onto you. The sensation of her against you is like pure silk as she grinds your clits together.

A loud cry erupts from your throat as you throw your hands out to brace yourself, one hand landing on her bandaged stomach. Whimpering with pleasure, you bite down on your lip and glance between her dilated eyes. Swallowing down a moan, you apply slight pressure to the wound.

Her hips stutter above you and her movements become more erratic and urgent, her grip on your leg tightening to the point of bruising.

"Fuck, angel." She growls, her voice husky and strained. "You're playing with fire."

Sevika's eyes are dark and dilated with a mixture of pain and pleasure, her lips parted in a pant as she glances down at you. Her tousled hair falls around her face as she moves above you, her skin glistening with sweat.

“Maybe I like fire, Sev.” You whimper, your hips bucking up to meet hers. Your hand moves from her stomach to her hip, pulling her closer.

A predatory grin spreads across Sevika's face. She leans down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers. "Oh, I'm sure you do."

Her teeth graze your earlobe as she leans back. Her palm glides over your thigh, massaging the flesh before striking it.

A cry falls from your mouth as your nails dig into the skin of her hip. With a cocky smirk, she roughly grinds against you. You let out another sharp cry as she delivers another firm hit to your thigh.

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as your core clenches. But just as quickly as the stinging sensation on your thigh appears, it’s soothed by her calloused palm, leaving behind a warm and tingly feeling. Struggling to maintain control, you grip the blanket beneath you tightly with your free hand while your hips continue to buck and writhe against hers.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps. The pressure builds within you, coiling tighter and tighter with each roll of her hips. She drags her nails over the throbbing skin on your thigh.

"Sev, I'm so close." You whimper, your voice high and needy.

"You need my permission, baby?" She mocks arrogantly. Grinning sharpy at you, she growls. “Cum for me, angel.”

Despite her teasing, her words push you over the edge. Your hands claw at her thigh and your vision blurs in a haze of tears as waves of pleasure crash over you. Sevika follows shortly after, her body shuddering above you, grunting out your name.

She collapses on top of you, both of you panting heavily. You wrap your arms around her, relishing in the weight of her body against yours. For a moment, you just lay there, heads pressed together, basking in the afterglow.

The humid air is thick with the heavy, musky scent of sex and sweat, a heady combination that mixes with the sweet, floral aroma of the surrounding flowers.

Swallowing, you perk up. “Come to the Saloon with me tomorrow.” You pant out.

Your breath stutters in your chest as you bite your lip. She looks beautiful, in her element. Her usually tense muscles are relaxed as she leans back against the seat, one toned arm casually resting on the back of it. The other hand hovers over her cards.

Your eyes follow the slender cigar pressed between her lips, smoke billowing from the corners of her mouth with each exhale. She inhales, her chest puffing out slightly with a small scoff.

The sight of her bare stomach peeking out from under her shirt makes your teeth clench over your lip even harder as you lean back against the rough wooden texture of the bar.

“You’re droolin’.” A deep voice interrupts your thoughts with a chuckle, followed by the sound of liquid pouring into a glass.

“Got a problem with that, Van?” You mumble tensely, still unable to tear your eyes away from her.

Sliding two glasses towards you, he scoffs. “Not at all, kid. Watchin’ you chase after that woman is entertaining.”

You turn to him and press your elbows into the worn wood of the bar. “I’ve done more than chase, old man.” You retort with a playful smirk, the tension in your body slowly easing.

Your smirk fades into a more genuine expression. You trace the grain of the counter with your fingertips as you continue in a whisper. “Thank you… For never treatin’ me differently.”

Vander's thick eyebrows knit together, creating a deep crease on his scruffy face as he lowers his gaze. A flash of sorrow flickers across his features before he quickly hides it and starts drying a glass. “You don’t need to thank me for that, kid… M’ not doin’ anything special.”

Exhaling a disappointed breath, you speak softly. “Wish that was true, Van. I really, really wish that was true.”

Downing the amber liquid in your glass, you carefully slide it back towards Vander with a light tap. He slowly pours more into the glass, clearing his throat and avoiding direct eye contact with you.

“You’re mum’s not talked to you then? I mean, you’ve uh- you’re bein’ safe, right?” He asks awkwardly, his voice filled with concern. He flashes you an uncomfortable, almost fatherly smile. “Diseases are-”

“Oh my god.” You gasp, your eyes bulging in shock. “Please don’t do this. The last thing I wanna talk about right now are sexual diseases before I have sex.” Your heart races and your stomach churns as you stare at him in disbelief.

He lets out a snort, his broad shoulders visibly relaxing. "Fine. I’ll leave you be, kid." He says, almost sounding relieved. “Just be safe.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing a glass in each hand. “I hope Felicia’s the one to give the kids the ‘talk’.” You pause, chuckling. “Cause whatever the start of that was, was fucking awful.” With an amused smile, you raise a glass in farewell before walking away. You can hear his deep chuckle following you.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you take slow steps towards Sevika's table.

“-cures all kinds of pain. Bruises. Sore throat. Animal bites. The poss-” Wincing, you tip-toe around Singed as he pulls another patron into his oil sales pitch.

The noise of the crowded bar surrounds you as you weave between tables, trying to keep your balance on the uneven floor. As you step closer, you find yourself pausing.

Your eyes trail over her toned legs, perfectly displayed under the table, until they land on her core - hidden beneath the fabric of her tight jeans. A rush of desire floods through you and your mouth waters, you tilt your head letting out a heavy breath.

But before you can fully lose yourself, Sevika's amused and cocky voice breaks your daze. “Plannin’ on standin’ there all day, angel?”

Darting your eyes to her competitors, you send her an innocent smile and shrug. “Can’t help the way you stop me in my boots, cowboy.” You gently set the glasses on the table.

She reaches out and her fingers gripping the fabric of your skirt, pulling you onto her lap. “Aww, you just might make me blush angel.”

The two men sitting across the table from her are tense, their bodies rigid and their eyes fixated on the cards in front of them. You observe them with a sense of detached amusement, tilting your head in faux confusion.

“Tell me Sevika.” You begin casually. “I don’t really play poker, but isn’t part of the game observin’ your opponents? Callin’ their bluffs?”

Sevika, with her thick brows raised, glances between the men and then back to you with her silver eyes. “It is.” Staging a whisper, she nips at your chin. “But they aren’t very good, angel.”

You cast a quick glance at the cards and the table before turning back to Sevika with a smirk of your own. “Yah know?” You muse. “When I asked you to come with me to the bar, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

A plume of smoke escapes Sevika's lips as she blows out a cloud of it, her expression teasing. “And what did you mean, angel?” She mumbles, her tone suggestive and playful.

You shrug, leaning back into her. "I dunno." You say with a twinkle in your eye. "Maybe dancin’."

With a casual flick of her wrist, she tosses a few chips onto the pile. Her movements are smooth and confident, exuding a sense of self-assurance. “I don’t do much dancin’, darlin’.” She remarks nonchalantly.

Lowering your lashes and giving her your best smile, you reply in a sugary-sweet tone. “Not even for little ol’ me, cowboy?”

A devilish glint flashes in her eyes as she shakes her head. "Not even for you." She confirms, turning her attention back to the game at hand.

Groaning, you fiddle with her free hand, quickly growing bored. The game drags on, and you find your attention wandering. Your eyes roam the crowded bar, taking in the lively atmosphere.

Suddenly, an idea strikes you. With a mischievous grin, you lean in close to Sevika's ear. "Fine, if you won't dance with me, maybe I'll find someone else who will." You whisper teasingly.

Sevika's hand tightens on your hip, her silver eyes flashing with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness. "Is that so, angel?" She murmurs, her voice low and husky.

You nod, your smile widening. "Mhmm. I'm sure there's plenty of folks here who'd love to dance with me." You make a show of looking around the room, as if searching for a potential dance partner.

Feigning a noise of interest, you nod lazily into the distance. With delicate fingers, you pluck the cigar from Sevika's lips and place it between your own, taking a slow drag. Giving her a quick peck on the lips, you gently return the cigar to its rightful place and slide off of her lap.

“Looks like I found someone, so don’t wait up, cowboy.” You tease, patting her shoulder in goodbye. She snatches your hand and pulls you back into her lap.

Sevika's piercing eyes narrow on you, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she absentmindedly throws her cards down onto the table. The sound of groans and curses fills the air.

Rolling her eyes with a sigh, Sevika stubs out her cigar and gestures towards the jukebox. “Find a good song, angel.” She says in a defeated husk.

With an satisfied giggle, you wrap your arms around Sevika's neck and press a soft kiss to her cheek. The worn floorboards creak under your feet as you skip over to the jukebox, excitement bubbling in your chest.

Your fingers trail over the selection of songs, searching for the perfect one. A slow smile spreads across your face as you spot a familiar title.

The opening notes of "Save A Horse, Ride A Cowgirl" fill the air as you turn back to Sevika. She's watching you with a mixture of amusement and affection, her silver eyes soft in the dim light of the bar.

You extend your hand to her, wiggling your fingers with a grin on your face. "May I have this dance, cowboy?"

Sevika rolls her eyes, but there's no real annoyance behind it. She takes your hand, her grip firm and warm. "I suppose, angel." She drawls, letting you lead her to a small clear space near the jukebox.

As you step onto the makeshift dance floor, Sevika's arm wraps around your waist, holding you close. Her other hand intertwines with yours.

She twirls you around, and the flowy skirts of your dress billow out like wings. Your laughter rings through the air as you both move to your own rhythm. Sevika's grin widens as she looks down at you, her eyes shining.

As you and Sevika sway together, lost in your own world, the atmosphere in the bar begins to shift. The music fades into the background as hushed whispers and pointed stares fill the air.

You're vaguely aware of the change, but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when Sevika is looking at you like that, her silver eyes soft and veiled in something all-consuming. Her hand is warm and solid on your waist.

"See? Dancing isn't so bad." You tease, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika chuckles, the sound rumbling through her chest. "I suppose not, angel. Not with you, at least."

The song comes to an end, but neither of you make a move to separate. Instead, Sevika pulls you closer, her forehead resting against yours. Your hand gently sweeps across her collarbone, tracing the delicate curve of her neck. Your fingers linger on the leather around her neck.

Your hand flattens on her collarbone and you finger at the leather around her neck. “I really like this. Looks good on you.” You mumble.

Sevika's eyes meet yours, and she pecks your nose before pressing her lips against your forehead. She hums, her breath warm against your skin.

Nestled against her warm body, you gently lay your head on her chest and hook your arms around her back. She does the same, holding you close and resting her cheek on your head.

With each gentle rock, a powerful emotion begins to swell in your chest, making it hard to swallow. It's a feeling that you can't quite put into words yet, but it feels overwhelming and intense. Considering the short amount of time you have spent together, it seems almost impossible for this emotion to be so strong.

But as she holds you tight and you feel her warmth seeping into your bones, you know that it doesn't matter how much time has passed.

You lo-

The heavy wooden doors of the Saloon slam closed with a resounding thud, causing heads to turn towards the entrance. A hush falls over the crowd as they stare at the unexpected intruder.

John.

He saunters in with a casual confidence, his sharp smile oozing with malice as he glances at you and Sevika. His disfigured face, still marred with shades of yellow and green and covered in grime, is repulsive.

Sevika tenses under your palms and you smooth your hands over her shoulders as your eyes cautiously follow John. Seething rage bubbles under your skin at the audacity of the man.

Vander stands stiffly behind the bar, his features hardening as John slowly approaches and takes a seat on a bar stool. Everyone watches, holding their breath as John silently taps his fingers on the counter in front of him.

Vander straightens, his muscles flexing as he wipes his hands on a towel and flings it over his shoulder. His voice is cold as he speaks. “You’re not welcome here.”

John's lips curl into a sneer as he leans forward, his voice dripping with disdain. "That's not very kind of you, Vander. I'm just here for a drink."

The tension in the room is palpable as Vander's jaw clenches. His eyes flick briefly to you and Sevika before returning to John. "I said, you're not welcome. Leave. Now."

John's gaze follows Vander's, landing on you and Sevika. His eyes narrow on your close proximity. "Well, well. Looks like the rumors are true after all." He drawls, his voice laced with disgust.

Sevika's arm tightens around you protectively as she turns to face John, her body partially shielding you. "You got a problem?" She growls, her voice low and threatening. “I’m not sure you’re in the kinda state to be pickin’ fights, boy.”

John stands. The remnants of spit cling to the corners of his cracked lips as he cackles, his laughter echoing off the walls. With a gnarled hand, he wipes away a tear from his crusted face, revealing beady eyes that sparkle with madness. As he stares at you, a twisted grin spreads across his face.

His voice drips with false sweetness, like honey laced with poison. “How’s the ranch doin’?” He pauses, feigning a look of concern.

His gaze moves around the room, taking in every anxious face. "No disasters while I was away, I hope?" A sinister undertone seeps into his words as his leer returns to you. “I’d hate it if somethin’ happened to you.”

Your blood runs cold at John's thinly veiled threat. You feel Sevika's muscles tense beneath your hands as she moves you behind her.

"That sounds an awful lot like a threat." Sevika growls, her voice low and dangerous. Her grey eyes flash with anger as she stares John down.

John holds up his hands in mock innocence, that cruel smile still lingering on his lips. "Just expressing concern for an old friend. No threat intended."

You place a steadying hand on Sevika's arm, feeling the trembling rage in her body.

"The ranch is just fine." You say, your voice cold but steady. "No thanks to you."

John's eyes narrow dangerously, darting between you and Sevika. "Is that so?" He snickers. "Well, accidents can happen so easily on a ranch. Animals die, fences break, fires start…"

"That's enough." Vander's deep voice booms through the room. He steps out from behind the bar, his imposing figure radiating authority. "I won't ask again. Leave."

John's eyes dart between you, Sevika, and Vander. For a moment, it seems like he might back down. But then his face twists into an ugly sneer.

"Or what?" he spits. "You gonna throw me out, old man?"

In a flash, Sevika moves. Before you can even blink, she's across the room, her hand wrapped around John's hair. She slams his cheek into the bar, glasses clinking as she leans into his ear.

You purse your lips in confusion as you glance between her and Vander's face. She leans in, whispering something into John's ear. Seemingly finished, Sevika turns her attention to Vander. They exchange hushed words, their eyes flickering towards you before Vander nods.

Sevika's features contort into a look of disgust as she glances down at the crumpled man on the ground. She turns and extends her hand towards you. Without hesitation, you grab it and she leads you out of the Saloon and into the cool night air.

Untying the reins with steady hands, she carefully mounts her horse. The leather of the saddle creaks as she leans down to you, extending a hand to lift you up. She secures her arms around you as you sit sideways in her lap.

As the horse carries you both through the dark night, the only sounds are the steady beat of hooves on dirt and the occasional whisper of wind through the trees. She leans forward, softly rubbing her hand along your back, offering comfort and reassurance.

The porch light comes into view, the dim glow fighting against the darkness of the night. As Sevika slows the horse to a stop, she gently lowers you to the ground. “Head inside, I’ll be right behind you angel.”

A heavy lump forms in your throat as you stumble through the house, barely registering the familiar creaks and sighs of the old wooden floors. With each step, it feels like your feet are weighed down, dragging on the floor as you trudge up the stairs and into your room. The walls seem to blur as tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision and making you feel like you're walking through a dream. Finally, you reach your room, collapsing onto your bed with a heavy thud.

As you lay down on your side, Sevika joins you a minute later. Slowly toeing off her boots, she lays back, turning to face you, her body mirroring yours as she rests on her side.

Your eyes meet Sevika's, searching her face for answers. Her silver gaze is soft but concerned as she reaches out to brush a stray hair from your cheek.

"You okay, angel?" She asks gently, her voice barely above a whisper.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "I… I don't know." You admit, your words shaky. "I'm scared, Sev. What if he… I- what if something happens to the ranch? To you or mama?"

Sevika pulls you closer and you bury your face in her chest, inhaling her comforting scent. "Nothing's gonna happen." She murmurs, her voice low and soothing.

You look up at her, your eyes shining with unshed tears. "How can you be sure?"

Sevika's jaw clenches, a determined look in her eyes. "Because I won’t let it. I’ll be here with you.”

“Promise?” Glancing through the window, you whisper, your voice quivering with emotion as you grasp her hand tightly, afraid to let go.

She meets your gaze and nods, her eyes shining with sincerity. “I promise, angel.”

“Do you wanna stay here tonight? Just- just to sleep.” You ask tentatively.

She lifts your intertwined hands, kissing your palm softly. “Of course, angel. It’d be my pleasure.”

You send her a grateful smile, sinking deeper into her in relief.

With a groan, Sevika blinks away the hazy remnants of sleep. Her skin prickles with goosebumps as she shivers. Every hair on her body stands at attention, her senses alerting her to some sort of danger. Glancing around in the dark, she slowly moves out of bed, adjusting her pillow underneath your head.

Glancing back at you, she cautiously makes her way to the window and gingerly pulls back the curtain with a single finger, peering out. Sevika's eyes narrow as she scans the darkened landscape outside. The moon casts an eerie glow over the fields, creating long shadows that dance in the gentle breeze. At first, nothing seems out of place. But then, there’s a rustle in the trees.

A figure, barely visible in the dim light, darts between the shadows of the fence and the nearby trees. Sevika's jaw clenches as she watches the intruder creep closer.

Without hesitation, she moves swiftly and silently across the room. She pauses at the bedside, her eyes softening as they land on your sleeping form. Leaning down, she presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before straightening up. Her expression hardens with determination and she checks the rounds in her revolver.

The chamber clicks closed as she makes her way downstairs, her footsteps silent on the old wooden floors.

Sevika doesn't bother disguising herself amongst the shadows. She wants him to see her coming. She wants him to run.

And run he does.

His beady eyes bulge and his squirrely face contorts with terror as he scurries into the dense forest. Decaying leaves crackle under his feet, branches reaching out and clawing at his face as he runs.

Sevika effortlessly chases after him, her long strides closing the distance between them in no time.

Grabbing a hold of his shirt, she violently yanks him back and throws him to the ground. Scratching her nose, she chuckles darkly. “I told you to stay away. To leave.”

He struggles to get up on all fours, but Sevika forcefully kicks him in the side. He rolls over from the impact and she digs her boot into his stomach. He gasps for air, wheezes whistling past his gritted teeth. “But I’m real fuckin’ glad you didn’t.”

She rolls her neck, savoring the satisfying crackle as she watches him struggle to speak between choked breaths. A sardonic smirk crosses her lips as she watches him glance at the gun holstered on her hip. “You gonna shoot me?” He croaks.

With a scoff, she shakes her head mockingly. “No… That would be too easy.” Slowly advancing on him, she lets her words hang in the air for a moment. “You don’t deserve easy.” She grits out, pressing the weight of her boot into his throat.

Her eyes gleam with a cold intensity as she revels in his desperation and fear. Just as his face grows purple, she relieves the pressure.

John gasps and coughs, desperately sucking in air. Sevika watches him dispassionately.

"You really thought you could come here and threaten them?" Sevika's voice is low and dangerous. "Thought you could scare them?"

John's attempts to speak are cut short as Sevika leans down, her fingers digging into his shirt. Her other hand curls into a fist, and meets his mouth in a punch that rattles his teeth.

"Did you think I lied when I told you I’d kill you if you came back?" She spits. "I know you’re a fucking idiot, but did you think that tryin’ to call my bluff was a good idea?"

Another blow lands on John's cheek.

“They’re coming.” He manages to gargle through a mouthful of blood.

Sevika pauses, her fist hovering in the air. “What?” She pants.

John coughs out a laugh, blood bubbling and dripping down his chin. Sevika releases her grip on his shirt in disgust, watching him writhe on the ground.

Flashing her a red stained smile, his swollen eyes fill with satisfaction as he glances down at her hands. “Seems like you’ve got more than just my blood on your hands… and a lotta people want you for it.”

Her nose flares and she licks her teeth in anger. Her fist clenches at her side, knuckles white with tension.

In a flash, Sevika's hand is around his throat, lifting him slightly off the ground. Her silver eyes blaze with a cold fury as she leans in close, her grip unyielding. “You’re pathetic. Can’t fight your own battles, so you have to tattle to someone who can.” She hisses, her voice like ice. “If they’re already on the way, what’s the harm in killing you?” She snickers.

He struggles to speak against Sevika's iron grip. "Go to hell." He chokes out, a flash of silver glinting in his hand.

But before he can strike, Sevika raises her arm and effortlessly redirects the knife, its sharp edge burying itself in his throat. She steps back, observing the blood splattered on her shirt with detached annoyance.

John gurgles and writhes on the ground, his hands futilely trying to contain the torrent of blood draining from his throat. The metallic scent of blood hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the earthy undertones of the forest.

Sevika watches in silence as John's desperate hand reaches out towards her before falling limply to the ground.

Her throat constricts as she takes in the overwhelming sight of crimson pooling around her feet, her mind flashing back to the image of you, patiently waiting for her in bed.

…

Her mind races as she heads back to the house. She can't stay here, that much is clear. But leaving you behind…

As she enters the dimly lit bedroom, she finds you still curled up in bed, your messy hair framing your face. You’re awake, a patient smile on your lips as you wait for her. “Hey, cowboy. Where’d yah go?” You raise a lazy hand toward her, beckoning her to join you.

She slowly crawls into bed next to you, she pulls you into her side. Curling under her chin, you cross your leg over her.

Sevika swallows hard, her breath quickening. She holds your hand over her chest. “You make me happy, angel… And I…” Her voice trails off into a whisper, her grip tightening.

You furrow your brows, trying to turn and look at her, but her embrace prevents you from doing so. Uneasiness gnaws at your stomach as you hold her closer. “You make me really happy too… You okay, Sev? Somethin’ happen?” You ask, worry lacing your words.

She draws your fingers to her lips, pressing gentle kisses to each one before placing your hand over her chest. “I just wanna hold you. Can I hold you, angel?”

You nod wordlessly, holding her even tighter. Something feels wrong, a foreboding shadow devouring all of the warmth in the room.

But you ignore it. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.

Thump… Thump… Thump…

You slowly relax into her. Blinking heavily, you lazily turn your head and peck her throat.

Thump… Thump… Thump…

The steady, rhythmic thump of Sevika's heart lulls you to sleep.

Thump… Thump… Thump…

Hazily, you feel the soft caress of her lips on your forehead. They linger and her chest rumbles with unheard words beneath your cheek.

Thump… Thump… Thump…

Groaning, you grope blindly at the cold sheets, your fingers searching for any sign of warmth. Grunting, you raise your head blearily, squinting against the harsh brightness of the room. “Sevika?” You mumble, your voice thick with sleep and confusion.

With a loud thud, you flop your head back into the pillow.

Sitting up with a pout, you push yourself out of bed and fumble around for some underwear and your nightdress. As you blink away the remnants of sleep, your gaze falls on a familiar strip of leather lying innocently on your dresser. Your heart pounds in your chest as that feeling of unease returns.

You stare at the necklace, your heart in your throat. Approaching it with cautious steps, your shaky fingers brush against its smooth surface.

Why would-

A jolt of recognition and fear shoots through you. You jump back with a gasp and spin around the room in a panic. Your heart pounds in your throat as you frantically search for any sign of her - but it's all gone.

The stable. She wouldn’t leave without-

You jump down the stairs, twisting your ankle in your haste. “Sevika!?!” You call out, desperation lacing your voice.

Ignoring the pain, you run to the stables. Your thin dress ripples around you as you sprint down the path.

Your mom's hand rests gently on your arm, but you barely feel it as you rush forward. "Sevika!"

Your mom follows close behind, speaking softly in a sympathetic tone. “Baby, she’s-“

Tears spill down your cheeks. “She wouldn’t. Not like this.” You insist through trembling breaths. “Sevika!!”

There’s no answer.

A warm hand brushes your back trying to offer comfort, but you shrug it off. Your mom’s voice is low and soothing as you stalk toward the stall where her horse should be. “John’s dead. Some of the workers found him in-”

Her voice muffles, growing distant, as static fills your ears. The stall is empty.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you mumble. “I’m goin’ for a ride.”

Your mom's voice pierces the air, shouting and screaming pleas in a desperate attempt to stop you. But you ignore her, jumping onto Honey.

Digging the heels of your feet into her fur, she flies out of the stables, matching your urgency.

A frantic drumbeat echoes in your chest as you jump from Honey’s back and sprint into the garden. Your garden.

The trees blur past as you leap through the gap, scanning the surroundings for any sign of her. Honey picks up on your anxious energy and mimics it, trotting restlessly in circles beside you.

Brittle, browning pink and orange flowers flatten under her hooves. Swallowing down a feeling of nausea, you frantically search for her among the sea of red tulips that cover the ground.

Each delicate petal seems to mock you as your heart aches with longing. With anger and confusion.

Your whole body trembles as the reality of her absence hits you. Your hair raises as the sensation of cold numbness spreads through you. Turning away, you run.

You run away from the house. You run away from the stables. Away from the Saloon. Away from the garden. You run away from every blurred face in town.

…

White hot pain blurs your vision. Your breath comes out in ragged gasps as you slowly pull Honey to a stop. Her sleek fur has grown sticky and matted under your legs.

Nausea rolls in your stomach as you peel your legs from her back. Gritting your teeth, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. Your swollen ankle buckles, your hands flailing to find purchase on the slick fur. Collapsing into the ground, you scream, grasping your foot.

A throbbing burn pulses down your legs and you release your foot with a whimper. With trembling hands, you raise your skirts to examine the source of the pain and are met with raw, shredded skin along your thighs. The pain in your body is excruciating, a constant pulsating that hums through your body.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you resist the urge to scream. Honey nudges you with her nose and you push her away.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

She chews on the cotton material of your dress. You cringe away from her. "Please." You plead weakly. "You're makin’ it worse."

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Ignoring your pleas, Honey continues to gnaw on the fabric while you try to hold yourself. Sniffling, you lift your head and are met with a familiar sight - a stain on a nearby rock. It’s now faded into a rusty grey color. A smeared handprint above a large blood stain.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The piercing shriek that reverberates from your lips is raw and guttural, animalistic.

Taglist: @lez-zuha

#western outlaw au #wild west au #outlaw/cowboy sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika smut #sevika #sevika arcane #arcane #league of legends #arcane fanfic #league of legends fanfic #sevika league of legends #wlw smut #wlw ns/fw #wlw #sapphic #lesbian

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stllmnstr · 5 months ago

Text

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. :)

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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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