#Bill really has a type

[thisispersonal]

so my copy of the book of Bill finally arrived, so here’s bill on a date with David Lynch.

based on this page:

[poor-ciceros-voring-again]

Today's Billtober prompt is Home Dimension and I was originally just gonna draw the portal with Bill pulling Ford through it BUT the song Axolotl by Summerbloom gave me other ideas <3

Lyrics from:

@dailybill-cipher

[geniusboyy]

Covenants and other Provisions

Chapter 14

Mesa

     The engine grumbled to life as Fidds turned the key, the sound rattling through the car like a low, anxious hum that settled in Ford’s chest. He slumped into the passenger seat, his body sinking into the worn upholstery, its sagging comfort easy to melt into. As they pulled out of the gravel driveway, the cabin, his refuge, shrank behind them, fading into the distance as rocks and dirt crunched beneath the tires. Ford’s gaze drifted out the window, focusing on how the daylight felt on his face through the glass, his mind slipping into a quiet reverie as the scenery blurred by.

     The world outside morphed into a patchwork of muted November hues—the bare branches of trees reaching like skeletal fingers against the gray sky, patches of faded grass stubbornly holding on to the remaining vestiges of autumn. The landscape was stripped of life, suspended between seasons, like everything around him had stalled out. The colors bled together, the muted grays of the season creeping in, leaving only flashes of red barns or the distant silhouette of a hill. Ford watched as the landscape rolled past, each image a fleeting reminder of the transition of time—caught between the warmth of summer and the cold grip of winter, reminders of the world that moved on even when he didn’t.

     Beside him, Fidds hummed softly with the cassette in the player—his usual rock tunes playing through the speakers. He bobbed his head lightly, tapping along on his steering wheel, a beat that blended into the background noise. Ford’s mind wandered with it, the rhythm carrying him deeper into his mind. He found himself lost in the rhythm of the passing scenery, the way the light seemed to filter through the clouds, casting a soft glow over everything. A space where he could lose himself in the monotony. There was a comfort in it, the kind that came from not having to think, not having to feel.

     But he did think. He always did. It was like the harder he tried to push it all away, the deeper it sank into him. The smell of the heater running thick in the car, the faint scent of dust and oil—it pulled him back, reminding him of the lab. How he wanted to be there. The endless hours spent chasing data, never done, always another step. How it was fast, intense, and hard. How he could so easily lose track of time. But the noise—that constant grind—had quieted, and in its place, was the silence. 

     Ford pressed a hand hard against his thigh. He needed to go back. To the work, to the rush of it, the way it made him forget. It was all he had left. Bill was gone, and everything felt like a half-dream since then. He’d been starving in a way—of connection, of slowness, anything to fill the void left by Bill’s absence. And now, it was like the world was testing him, pulling at the edges of that emptiness. Fidds had pulled him out here, away from the safety of his lab, and Ford felt the stilts he’d built to stand on start to splinter.

     He could still hear it, the way Bill’s laughter cut through him. That look in his eye that could just level him. Ford’s chest tightened. That was what had hooked him—that feeling of being understood, the way Bill could get inside his head and twist it all up until Ford didn’t know where he ended and Bill began. Now, all that was left was this hole that nothing could fill.

     He turned his head slightly, glancing at Fidds, who was still tapping along to the music, unaware of the storm raging quietly next to him. Ford was grateful for the noise, that Fidds liked the music loud. It kept him from asking questions, from noticing the way Ford’s hands were trembling slightly in his lap. He didn’t want to talk. He couldn’t. He was too wrapped in the sharp ache of longing and grief. The need to truly know him. But now, he was filled with the reality, the acceptance, that he never would. Still, he dwelled. He couldn’t help it.

     Their first stop was at a guy named Reggie’s; someone Fid had heard about through a mutual acquaintance, who knew him through another friend, and was now who he’d buy weed from. Ford didn’t know much about him other than that Fiddleford came out here about once a week, said he had a lot of good bud and was a bit “eccentric.” Ford wasn’t surprised by that—eccentric seemed to be the type of person that gravitated to Fidds.

     They pulled into the driveway and Ford was immediately struck by the number of cars in the driveway, more than he expected. He took a breath, appreciatively exiting the car as unease coiled in his gut. Ford walked behind Fidds as they approached the door, his hands shoved into his pockets. The yard was cluttered with little things—twinkling ornaments strung up in the trees, wind chimes swaying gently in the breeze, small signs and figures tucked into the landscaping. Ford’s attention settled on the door, a low hum of music seeping out from behind it. What are you getting me into now, Fid?

     “I swear, every stoner in America is no more than three degrees separated from each other,” Ford mused, breaking the silence as they reached the door. The remark came casually, making conversation on their way up the steps, a way to settle the anticipation building in his chest.

Fidds chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s like a big ass, never-ending game of who’s who.” His voice had that easy, relaxed drawl. Ford had always envied that about him—how Fidds could walk into any room, any situation, and seem completely unfazed. Nothing stuck to him for long. Ford wished he could be like that, wished he didn’t carry everything around with him. Fidds knocked on the door, and it swung open.

     The smell hit him first—incense and marijuana, thick and sweet, swirling around them. Then, the music followed, the hum of a record spinning in the next room, the sound wafting out with the haze. The man standing in the doorway didn’t immediately speak, but his presence was as intense as the energy that came from the house, tugging on Ford’s curiosity.

     This must be Reggie. He stood there, framed by the light inside, leaning casually against the doorframe, almost posing. He was smaller than Ford expected, thinner. His posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his eyes, something sharp and calculating behind them. His clothes hung loosely over his frame, draped in silky layers of embroidered flourishes that made him seem both casual and deliberate, everything carefully curated. The jewelry around his neck and fingers caught the light, glinting as he glanced between the two of them, sizing them up.

     There was a brief moment of silence, his eyes settling on Fidds first. Then, a slow, tight smirk tugged at Reggie’s lips, playful and knowing, as if he already had them figured out.

          “Don’t tell me…” Reggie’s voice came out smooth, an amused tenor that slid past his lips. “Is this him?”

     Ford stood there behind Fidds, feeling strangely exposed under Reggie’s gaze as it shifted to him. Fiddleford chuckled, though there was a slight edge to it now, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice, as if Reggie had already spilled some secret he wasn’t meant to share. “Yeah, this is him.”

     Reggie’s smile widened, revealing a gap-toothed grin. It was disarming and genuine. His eyes lingered on Ford, a moment longer, taking his time, and Ford felt a flicker of self-consciousness under the scrutiny. “My, my, Stanford Pines,” Reggie mused, the words rolling off his tongue with an air of reverence. “I’ve heard so much about you. Please, come in.” He gestured grandly, stepping aside with effortless grace, his movements smooth and confident. Ford hesitated for a split second, a sense of unease washing over him. But he followed Fidds through the threshold. The warmth of the space wrapped around him as he stepped inside, drawing him in. 

     The house was a patchwork of colors and textures—tapestries and textiles draped over the walls, casting the room in soft, muted hues. Every surface was cluttered with trinkets and oddities, small curiosities that seemed carefully curated, though haphazard in their arrangement. Shelves overflowed with mismatched objects, some gleaming, others dusty with age. The floor was covered in overlapping rugs of all kinds—plush, worn, patterned, solid—each one seeming to tell a different story underfoot. It reminded him of home; not the cabin, but home , home. The one back in Jersey. But he quickly tucked that burst of nostalgia back into the recesses of his mind. He already had enough to think about.

     The first thing Ford noticed was the absence of a couch. Instead, a large glass table sat low to the floor, surrounded by oversized cushions that looked as though they had borne the weight of a thousand conversations, the fabric worn soft and frayed in places. The cushions were slouched in a way that suggested hours of use, sagging into themselves like they were resigned to the inevitability of hosting more people, more silences. Ford hesitated for a beat, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound felt final, like a lock sliding into place. No escape now.

     Reggie moved with that same liquid grace, every step part of some internal rhythm only he seemed attuned to. It was unsettling, the way he seemed to glide through his own space with so little effort, like he was both the host and a piece of the room itself, stitched into the fabric of it. Ford watched, half-captive by the ease of it all, as Reggie folded himself down onto one of the cushions, his legs crossed and arms reaching out, hands already working with practiced precision. The herbs and bags appeared out of nowhere, slipping through his fingers with a dexterity that seemed almost choreographed. It was almost hypnotic, the way his hands moved, quick but deliberate, like he was performing a ritual.

     Ford hovered for a moment, hovering on the edge of the room as if it might swallow him whole. But then his body gave in—he was exhausted, and something about the room only amplified the feeling. His legs buckled beneath him, and he sank down onto one of the cushions. It was too soft, pulling him in deeper than he wanted, and he could feel his muscles loosening against his will, like the house itself was forcing him to relax.

     His head felt heavy, bloated with thoughts that buzzed just under the surface, too full, too much. Most of them were back at the lab, still wrapped up in that black hole he had been circling for weeks—Bill, the silence that came after, and the ache that sat lodged there between his ribs, refusing to move. He had been running from it, pushing his body beyond the point of breaking just to drown out the noise, but the quiet had only made it louder. Ford leaned back against the cushion, feeling the weight of everything pressing in on him.

     His eyes wandered to Reggie’s hands again, watching the way they danced over the table, delicate but steady, moving as if on autopilot. Ford didn’t want to be here, not really. He wanted to be back in the lab, in the chaos of it all, where there wasn’t time to think. But he was here. He was tired. So he let his mind drift, trying to stay distant, biding his time until it was over. Until he could leave.

     There was an eruption of laughter from the next room, a sudden burst of sound that tore through Ford’s already frayed nerves. It grated against him, sharp and unwelcome, pulling him further away from any hope of calm. He didn’t have the energy to interact, to smile and nod through small talk. He shot a look at Fidds, a silent plea. This wasn’t a part of the deal , his expression said. Fidds responded with a light shrug, as to say what can you do?

     “Here you go, darling,” Reggie’s voice slid into the air, velvety and low, interrupting their silent conversation. The endearment barely registered at first, Ford’s thoughts too scattered to process the words, or the slow movement of a joint, already rolled and lit, being passed over to Fidds. Ford’s gaze followed the motion.

     Reggie sank back when Fidds freed his hand, as though he was carefully unfolding himself into the space between them. He reclined on one elbow, his body draped in loose fabric that seemed to cling just where it needed to, revealing in some places and falling away in others. There was an intentionality in the way he settled, languid and unhurried, like time bent around him. Ford’s attention snagged on the glint of gold against Reggie’s chest, the faint shimmer from the chains that lay in the hollow of his collarbone, contrasted by his dark skin. It reminded him of someone—of Bill. Of the easy way he commanded attention, of the sharpness in his gaze, the way the room always bent to him, too.

    Reggie wasn’t sitting too close—not close enough to feel suffocating—but close enough that Ford could see every detail: the smooth skin exposed through the gap in his shirt, the subtle shift of his muscles beneath it. The chains shimmered in the low light, catching the warmth of the room and throwing it back. And the way Reggie let himself be seen, with that casual ease. It caught Ford off guard by it—the openness, the confidence that came with it.

     And then Ford realized, with a sudden jolt of embarrassment, that Reggie had been watching him watch. His heart stuttered, a flicker of panic tightening his stomach. He snapped his gaze forward, heat crawling up his neck as he swallowed hard. The moment was gone as quickly as it had come, but it left something heavy between them—an unspoken acknowledgment. Ford felt it settle in the air. He tried to focus, to steady himself, but the weight of Reggie’s eyes was heavy. He could feel it like a tangible thing, pressing in on him. Though, Reggie said nothing. Ford shifted in his seat, willing the tension in his body to ease, but Reggie, for his part, didn’t seem bothered. He rolled the joint between his fingers when it came back to him, a practiced ease as he’d done everything else, like the brief moment hadn’t rattled him at all.

          “ So , Fiddy,” Reggie finally said, his voice light and casual, “how’s life, how’s the wife?”

     “Good, good,” Fiddleford replied, glancing over at Ford, his smile easy and familiar. “We’ve been making some real progress, mostly thanks to Ford here. He never leaves the lab.” He chuckled lightly. “I had to drag him out here kicking and screaming.”

     Ford felt the eyes on him before he saw them, a warm sense of examination prickling at the back of his neck. He shifted a little, trying to ignore the sudden awareness of himself in the space, his shoulders stiff against the cushion. Reggie’s grin widened, a flash of amusement on his face, but Reg didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate inhale from the joint, letting the smoke swirl around him as his gaze remained on Ford—narrowing slightly, analyzing him in a way that felt layered, as if he were seeing more than Ford was willing to show. Ford gathered enough courage to meet Reggie’s gaze, flashing a tight smile as he rested his arms on his knees, clasping a hand around his wrist to comfort himself. 

     “Workaholic, huh?” Reggie finally said, his tone light and playful, though there was a note of a deeper curiosity—or perhaps recognition. He exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift between their shared eye contact, and then, casually, Reg held the joint out in Ford’s direction. “Relax, friend.”

          Fidds made a move to take the joint, shaking his head with a knowing laugh. “Oh, no, he doesn’t really—”

     “Sure,” Ford cut in, his hand moving quicker than Fiddleford’s, snatching the joint from Reggie’s fingers. The interruption felt abrupt, but Ford didn’t care.

          Fidds turned to him, surprised. “You sure?”

     Ford shrugged, already bringing the joint to his lips. “Yeah.” His voice came out more casual than he felt. The desperation was there, beneath the surface, an urgent need to drown out the noise. The room felt like it was closing in, the colors, the heat, everything blurring at the edges, and he just wanted to sink into it, disappear into anything that wasn’t the silence that had wrapped itself around him for weeks. “It’s Sunday, right?” he added, throwing out the excuse like it could explain away the restless impulsiveness.

     Reggie’s low chuckle followed, a sound that rumbled through the room like a warm breeze. “That’s the spirit,” he said, his voice smooth as he lightly punched Ford’s shoulder, movements unhurried, deliberate. The loose fabric of his shirt shifted slightly when he rested his arm on a pillow. His jewelry gleamed in the dim light, catching Ford’s eye again, but just for a moment.

     Ford inhaled, and the smoke hit his lungs hard, stinging more than he’d anticipated, less forgiving than the cigarettes he was used to. It felt thick, clinging to the walls of his chest, like it didn’t want to leave. He coughed—once, sharp—and then immediately took another drag, if only to avoid Reggie’s gaze, which rested on him longer than he could ignore. There was something in the way Reggie looked at him, not intrusive, but like he was waiting. Their eyes met again, briefly, and Ford quickly averted his gaze, focusing on the swirl of smoke that drifted in front of him as he exhaled, his chest tightening with the strain of trying not to cough again.

     A burst of voices shattered the uneasy quiet. The door creaked open, and two men strolled in, heavy-footed, their steps too loud for the room’s low thrum. “Hey, Fidds is here!” one of them called out, pulling Ford’s attention like a hook. He glanced over, catching them in that instant—the type that fit everywhere and nowhere, guys who knew how to slip into spaces like they’d been there forever. Their familiarity with Fidds was immediate, like muscle memory. Fiddleford stood up to greet them, laughing as they clapped him on the back, handshakes exchanged in quick, fluid movements Ford couldn’t follow. They acted like they’d known him for years, even if it had only been months.

     Ford’s stomach twisted, though it wasn’t jealousy exactly. It was more a sharp pang of awareness—how easily Fiddleford blended in, how quickly he found his place here, while Ford remained on the outskirts, out of rhythm, out of sync.

     The taller one, bulky with long hair, caught sight of Ford and let out a goofy laugh. “Hey, yo! Is that your guy, Fid?” he shouted, then turned his head toward the room he’d just come from. “Guys, check it out! Fidds is in here gettin’ his boss highn’ shit!”

     Ford felt heat crawl up his neck, shrinking back into the cushion as two more people filtered into the room. Suddenly, it was too much—too many eyes on him, the joint in his hand suddenly feeling like a spotlight. The pressure tightened in his chest, the space growing smaller, more suffocating with each passing second. He could barely breathe under the weight of their casual, curious stares.

     Fidds, sensing the shift in Ford from across the room, placed a hand on the guy’s chest, his voice light but firm. “Hey, give him a break, don’t crowd his genius.” He teased, though there was a gentleness to it, a way of diffusing the moment before it could press further. He gestured toward Ford. “Everyone, this is my friend and colleague, Dr. Ford Pines. Ford, this is—well, everyone.” He chuckled, pointing them out one by one. “Suz, Charlie, Rich, this eccentric fella here is Bobby,” he added, patting the taller guy’s chest. “And, well, you’ve already met Reg.”

     Ford gave a tight nod, his discomfort rising with every name that was thrown at him. Instinctively, he brought the joint back to his lips, taking another hit, hoping the burn would soothe the sudden anxiety in his gut. “How’d ya do,” he managed to mumble through a cough, his voice barely carrying across the room.

     Beside him, Ford could feel Reggie smirking, the subtle curve of his lips unmistakable in the periphery. The moment stretched on, Ford’s pulse loud in his ears as the room’s energy hummed around him, all of it too much, too fast, but somehow still slow enough to drag him under. 

     Bobby’s energy bubbled up again, immediately distracted as soon as introductions were done. “Fid, man, you gotta check out all the work we did on the truck,” he said, already tugging on Fidd’s arm, his body half-turned toward the back door as if it was a foregone conclusion that they’d go.

     Fiddleford hesitated, glancing back at Ford. There was a flicker on his face—an apology, maybe—but it was too quick to catch, slipping away before Ford could decide what to do with it. “Yeah, okay, I’ll come take a look,” Fidds finally said, his voice soft but resigned.

     Ford shot him a look, hoping it would be enough— You’re leaving me here? —but Fiddleford either didn’t notice or pretended not to. He was already swept up in the group’s orbit, their conversation flowing easily as they drifted toward the back door. It was all mechanics and jargon now—engines, gears, repairs—familiar territory for Fiddleford, their voices overlapping in that seamless fashion as they moved toward the back door, voices overlapping, pulling him further away.

          Now Ford was alone, high, with a stranger.

     He sat there, his body stiffening, the cushions suddenly too soft, too inviting, like they might swallow him whole if he let his guard down. He blinked, trying to focus, but the room felt like it was tilting, the corners dimming into shadow. When he looked up again, Reggie hadn’t moved. He was still there, lounging against the pillows, one arm resting casually on his bent knee, the other holding the joint, now half-burnt. His shirt still hung loose, and Ford couldn’t help but notice the way the fabric shifted, revealing more glimpses of smooth skin, the gold of his jewelry catching the ambient light.

     Reg wasn’t saying anything, just watching Ford in that same quiet, expectant way. It wasn’t pressing, but it wasn’t subtle either. Ford felt his pulse quicken, not from any real fear but from the strangeness of the moment. He cleared his throat, the sound too loud, too sharp. Reggie didn’t flinch, just lifted the joint and offered it again, the gesture casual but somehow pointed. Ford took it, let the familiar burn of smoke settle into his lungs, its warmth filling the silence, the haze of it making the room feel more distant, softer around the edges. When he exhaled, the smoke twisted into the air, dissolving the tension for a brief second.

     “You’re really wound up, huh?” Reggie mused, finally breaking the silence, his tone light, almost playful, as if he were teasing a friend. He took the joint back from Ford’s fingers, his touch idle for a fraction longer than necessary, sending a warm jolt through Ford, an ignition of those idle nerves. “Do you mind?” he asked, tugging gently on Ford’s extra finger. It felt intimate, like a small secret shared in the open air. Ford blinked, feeling disoriented, the world around him a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Was it the weed? His racing thoughts? Maybe it was a combination of both, but he found himself humorously complying with Reggie’s curiosity, holding out his hand to let him observe.

     Reg’s hands were soft compared to Ford’s, his fingers long and slender, a fraction of the size of his own. They felt delicate but precise, the kind of touch that wasn’t accidental. Reg ran his thumb over Ford’s scarred knuckles first, tracing the jagged edges where the skin had split and bled. The scabs still clung to the surface, tender reminders of the glass that had torn through several days before. “Reckless, too,” Reg said, his lips pulling into a slight smile, tsking in mock disapproval. His eyes flicked upward, locking onto Ford’s with a playful intensity, like he was daring him to admit something Ford didn’t want to say.

     Ford coughed, the weight of that look settling in his chest, a quiet pressure he wasn’t prepared for. The kind that made it hard to breathe. “Yeah… “ his voice broke through. “—little accident in the lab,” he said. It was a lie, and Ford couldn’t help but feel like Reg knew it, it was in his eyes, the uncomfortable sense that he saw right through him.

     “What do you do there?” Reg’s voice was casual, but the question hung heavier than it should have, biding between them like it wanted more than just a simple answer. Ford hesitated, feeling the familiar knot of unease rising inside him.

     He tried to deflect, laugh off the question, the sound rough and jagged, but it escaped anyway. It surprised him—how genuine it felt. It might have been the first real laugh he’d let out in weeks. “I can’t tell you,” he said, a slight lift at the corner of his lips. “—it’s classified,”

     He could feel the tension tugging at him, the way he was leaning into the moment without fully being present. Reg’s touch was grounding, though, making him more aware of the room, the warmth, the closeness, but he was still far off, half-immersed in the pull of his own thoughts. The part of him that was still stuck where Bill had left him. But he was here now, Reggie seemed warm and inviting, and Ford, in his exhaustion and restlessness, felt like he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to lean in—just a little further.

     Reg chuckled, lips barely parted, the sound low and conspiratorial. “A man with secrets..?” he mused, flipping Ford’s hand over with a theatrical flourish, turning his palm over and presenting it like a stage. “Reveal them to me . ” The words were soft, yet they carried weight, a teasing command. His index finger traced along the lines of Ford’s palm, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver up Ford’s arm, the sensation startling in its gentleness. It was subtle, but Ford felt it—the way Reg’s touch seemed to draw out the tension buried in his muscles, in his mind, the warmth from his hand seeping slowly, steadily into his skin.

     He felt himself leaning into it, almost unconsciously. The contact was soft but insistent, and for a moment Ford allowed himself to sink into the sensation, to forget about everything gnawing at him from the inside out. The soft hum of the house, the low flicker of light from the candle burning on the table—it all blurred together, folding into the quiet intimacy of this exchange. “I felt your aura the moment you stepped into my doorway,” Reg continued, his tone dipping lower, eyes scanning Ford’s palm with a seriousness. “You’re very powerful, you know. ‘In tune.’”

     Ford blinked, caught in the intensity of Reggie’s gaze, and it threw him off balance. He shook his head slightly, instinctively pulling back from the weight of it. “My mother used to say the same thing,” he said, his voice a little rougher, trying to tether the moment in something lighter. “She read palms, too.”

     Reg lifted an eyebrow, intrigued. “Well acquainted with chiromancy? Aren’t you just full of surprises,” he said with a quiet grin, the words light but curious. “She had the sight?” His gaze drifted back to Ford’s hand, the question hanging in the air with the same weight as before, though his tone remained casual.

     Ford let out another chuckle and shrugged, it was genuine, warmer this time, less guarded. “She said she did,” he replied. “Although, I don’t know how much I believe in that stuff,” His skepticism felt rehearsed, the doubt practiced. It was a lie. The things he’d witnessed, the unspeakable forces he’d encountered—they’d shattered the framework of everything he thought he understood about the world. But disbelief had become a convenient mask, a way to keep himself at a distance. He wasn’t denying it for Reg’s sake, though—this was Ford’s way of keeping the moment alive, keeping the exchange moving, as if daring Reggie to dig deeper.

     And Reg didn’t falter. His fingers moved slowly, methodically, tracing the lines of Ford’s palm like they held a map, like he could read what was buried deep beneath the surface, pulling it out from Ford’s core. His touch wasn’t invasive, but there was a precision to it, an almost unsettling tenderness that made Ford feel exposed, like something private had been unearthed without his permission. The sensation stirred deep within him—a ripple of vulnerability that twisted itself into his gut, mingling with the curiosity that had always gnawed at the edges of his mind. This moment, simple as it was, felt like the most intense positivity Ford had experienced in ages. And despite the discomfort, he was clinging to it, reluctant to let it slip away.

     Reg’s gaze drifted up from Ford’s palm, the smoldering joint dangling between his fingers. He passed it to Ford without breaking the connection between them, the lingering warmth of his hand a reminder of the touch they’d just shared. Ford accepted it, taking a slow drag, his eyes never leaving Reg’s. The weight between them was a force, pulling at the tension bunched in Ford’s chest, slowly unwinding it.

     Reg’s laugh broke the silence, soft and playful, bubbling up from his throat like it had escaped without permission. “What?” Ford asked, a slight smile playing at his lips again, feeling a lightness begin to settle into his bones.

          Reg shook his head, his laughter sputtering past white teeth, the sound was infectious. “Your eyes are so fuckin’ red,” he teased, thick amusement in his voice.

     Ford exhaled, the smoke ghosting around his head, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like he had to defend himself, didn’t feel the need to armor up. He just smiled back, letting the moment hang between them, the air heavy but easy. 

     A slight shiver slid down Ford’s spine as Reg’s fingertip returned to his skin, grazing the curve of his palm, just lightly enough to feel like a breath of wind. Ford exhaled, the sound shaky in his throat, and suddenly, it wasn’t just Reg’s words or the touch itself. It was the way Ford felt his own body responding, betraying him in the quiet space between them. He was too tired to fight it, too worn down to resist the pull any longer.

     Reg’s eyes glinted with that familiar knowing, an amused awareness that settled into his gaze, like he could see past Ford’s careful exterior with ease. “Since you’re experienced,” Reg started, his voice dipping into a melodic rhythm, “I won’t give you the usual surface-level read. On the house, of course.” He paused, letting the offer hang between them, a subtle invitation that felt more intimate than it should have. “We’ll start simple, and build up to it,” he added.

     Ford nodded, the gesture slow, and suddenly the act of swallowing felt thick and deliberate, like the air had shifted. He told himself it was cotton mouth, effects of the smoke, but it didn’t explain the way Reg’s presence clung to him.

     “You have a strong head line.” Reg paused, watching Ford carefully, the intensity of his gaze tightening Ford’s stomach. “Means you’re analytical. A thinker. Figured as much…” He smirked, eyes holding Ford’s as if daring him to react. “But you also tend to overthink. Get lost in your head. Wrapped up?”

     Ford’s pulse quickened, the anxious thrum matching the weight of the words, like they were brushing up too close. “Yeah,” he murmured, the answer slipping out before he could think. He glanced down at his palm, trying to tether himself, but his gaze slid to the shimmer of gold at Reg’s neck instead, catching the soft light as it rested on his skin. He swallowed, clearing his throat, forcing himself to keep his cool. “That’s pretty vague, though,” Ford replied, his tone leveling out. “Doesn’t everyone get stuck in their own head?”

     Reg laughed, the sound light but full of meaning. “Patience is a virtue.” He reminded, letting the moment settle before his fingers moved again, soft and deliberate as they traced along Ford’s palm, following the lines. “This heart line here…” Reg’s fingertip followed a faint curve toward Ford’s first pinky. “It shows you care deeply. But you—” His finger pressed into Ford’s palm, the contact sending a brief rush through him. “You’re special.” Their eyes met again. “You have two heart lines.” Reg’s finger drifted down the line. “You build walls. Keep people at a distance. Afraid to let them in?”

     Ford kept himself steady, playing it off. “Again, this could be applied to most people,” he said, his voice measured. But there was something about the way Reg’s gaze held his that made it feel personal, like the truth was creeping close to the surface.

     Reg was pensive, quiet for a moment. “You wanna get deep?” he asked, reaching behind him and plucking another pre-rolled joint from the table. He held the end up to a candle burning nearby before bringing it to his lips. “Let’s get deep.” Reg shifted his focus back to Ford’s palm, his fingertips brushing over it again, this time with more purpose. 

     Ford watched as Reggie shifted his focus back to his hand, the joint passed between them almost as an afterthought. The smoke lingered in the air, thick but secondary to the slow, deliberate movement of Reg’s fingers as they traced the familiar lines of Ford’s palm, now with more purpose.

     “You’re not an easy read, but ,” Reg murmured, his touch firmer now, his thumb pressing into Ford’s skin as though searching for something just beneath the surface. His voice was low, almost playful, yet the intensity in his gaze remained unwavering. He let a few beats pass, letting the tension settle around them. “A brutish romantic with a soft spot,” he said, a teasing smile breaking through as he exhaled smoke. “Methodical, disciplined… tethered to routine. The type to wear a tie on the weekends,” he added, hooking a finger around the fabric at Ford’s neck as he spoke, gently tugging it from the V of his sweater.

     The sensation sent a jolt through Ford, a mix of embarrassment and unexpected thrill coursing through him as the tie slid out of place, the slight rustle of fabric heightening his awareness of their proximity. He swallowed hard, a flush creeping up his neck, feeling exposed yet strangely exhilarated and Reggie continued. “Idealistic, egotistical… but with enough charm to use it to your advantage,”

     Ford’s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement crossing his face as his eyebrows lifted, his gaze dropping into the lines of his own palm. “Egotistical?” he echoed, his voice low, laced with disbelief. He studied his hand like he might find the word scribbled somewhere between the creases.

     Reg chuckled, a soft sound that broke through the haze of smoke. “Look, here,” he said, his tone warm, almost coaxing as his fingertip brushed over Ford’s skin with an easy familiarity. He traced a line where the Head and Heart lines seemed to blur, running his finger slowly along the intersection. “You’ve got a partial Simian Line,” he explained, pausing just long enough for the weight of the words to settle between them. “That’s rare.”

     Ford watched the movement, the subtle touch drawing his focus, making it hard to look away. Reg’s voice dipped lower, a teasing edge to it. “Your logic and emotions tangle together. It must be agony .”

     Ford gave him a look, skeptical, but there was an exchange in the shared glance. It was like a challenge, the way Reg didn’t seem to break the connection between them. Ford’s lips twisted upward, barely noticeable but enough to cut through the heaviness. “Agony, huh?” he muttered, his voice rough, raspy from the smoke. “This guy sounds dramatic.”

     Reg grinned, another quiet laugh rumbling through him. “Just calling it like I see it.”

     As the joint passed between them, each handoff felt deliberate, more intimate than the last. Their fingers brushed lightly, a subtle connection that deepened with every touch. The smoke curled around them, thick and fragrant, softening the edges of the room, the world outside. Ford let the warmth of it fill him, dulling the noise in his head, muting the sharp angles of his thoughts. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just looked at each other, the quiet holding them in place.

     Reg’s voice stayed soft when it came again, but there was an insistence in the way he continued, his fingertip grazing a barely-there arc on Ford’s palm, a touch that felt almost reverent. “And this—your Venus ,” he murmured, punctuating the word while tracing the faint curve. “It shows you’ve got deep romantic tendencies,” he went on, the weight of his words pressing in on the space between them. “Even if you don’t want to admit it.”

    Ford didn’t move, his gaze fixed on the way Reg’s finger traced along his skin. His breath hitched, when he felt a nail lightly graze his last finger, an isolated sensation that Ford was not used to. “And this?” Reg’s fingers brushed across it, lingering there, gaining a tight breath from Ford. “You’re special, no doubt about it. You’ve got something about you—something otherworldly. You feel like you’re meant for more, don’t you? Ambitious, driven, but…” His thumb lightly pressed into the base of Ford’s hand. “This here shows me you have a weakness. Where you’re vulnerable.” He passed the joint back.

     Ford’s lips brushed the edge of the joint, inhaling slowly, feeling the heat settle into his lungs as he repeated Reg’s words. “And what’s that weakness, exactly?”

     Reggie’s eyes glinted, his lip catching briefly between his teeth, a moment of pause before letting Ford’s words slip into the haze. He didn’t answer, not directly, but instead let the silence build, lingering as his gaze traced the lines of Ford’s hand again. “Those walls,” he murmured, his voice softer now, heavier. “They sure are high…” His fingertip trailed lower this time, down the length of Ford’s palm, grazing the sensitive skin at his wrist.

     Ford’s breath hitched, the touch a jolt against his nerves. He didn’t mean to pull back, but his body reacted instinctively, a light gasp escaping him as he tried to retract his hand. Reg’s grip tightened, not harsh, but firm enough to keep him anchored in place.

    Their eyes locked, the air between them intense, charged. Ford’s breath was uneven now, heavier than he meant it to be, his pulse thrumming in his throat. But Reg didn’t break eye contact, didn’t let the tension snap. His gaze was steady, sharp, reading every flicker of emotion that Ford couldn’t quite suppress, commanding his attention.

     “But you’re waiting…” Reg’s voice was just above a whisper, each word careful. His finger grazed Ford’s wrist again, more intentional this time, pressing lightly against the thrum of his pulse. “For someone bold enough…” he continued, the words slipping between them like a promise. “…to take it.”

     Ford’s throat felt tight, his body teetering on some edge he wasn’t prepared for, but he didn’t pull away this time. Reg’s grip loosened, his fingers easing, cradling Ford’s hand with a tenderness that almost felt out of place. Ford stayed, breath shaky, his body betraying the defenses he had spent so long building. He didn’t relent, didn’t retreat.

     “And once they have…” Reg’s voice was velvet-soft, wrapping around Ford’s resolve. His touch drifted, fingertips brushing down the edge of Ford’s palm before finally pulling away, leaving the skin there tingling in its absence. “You can’t stop...”

     Ford’s pulse raced beneath the surface, his body feeling impossibly heavy as the weight of the moment bore down on him. His mind felt thick, hazy, every thought coming slower than the last, like it was slipping through his fingers before he could grasp it. He didn’t respond—he couldn’t. He was sinking into the quiet pull between them, and for once, he didn’t want to stop.

     “You’re a fire,” Reg murmured, his voice soft but insistent, threading through the fog in Ford’s mind. “Burning bright, even if you bury it beneath the fear… and doubt.” His touch slid over Ford’s palm again, this time more deliberate, starting at the heel and moving upward. He slowly intertwined Ford’s fingers with his own, the touch wasn’t rushed—it was slow, almost agonizing in its tenderness.The movement subtle but charged, letting his words hover in the air between them.

          “And once you’re cracked…” Reg continued, his voice even lower now, his touch deliberate, sliding over the curves of Ford’s fingers. “You just can’t help yourself—”

     Ford barely registered the shift at first, the gentle way Reg’s fingers slipped between his own, testing the space. The intimacy of it, the simple gesture, it made Ford’s heart stutter. Reg leaned forward slightly, fully intertwining their hands, “You sink your teeth in—” his voice was soft, teasing, punctuating his point by clasping Ford’s hand into his own.

     A bolt of awareness shot through Ford, snapping him out of the fog he’d drifted in. He couldn’t tell if it was the weed, the conversations, or just the way Reg seemed to navigate the space between them so easily, but he didn’t realize how close they’d gotten until now, and suddenly, everything felt hyperreal—the warmth of Reg’s hand, the buzz, the shrinking distance between them.

     Ford could feel his pulse racing, a wave of surprise mingling with an unsettled pulse. It was like an itch under his skin, a quiet stirring that made him uncomfortable. Reg wasn’t playing coy anymore; the air between them had thickened, charged with an energy that neither of them could deny. Ford’s heart thudded harder, the realization quickly sinking in, heavy and undeniable.

     “You’re very handsome,” Reg murmured, his voice smooth, coaxing, the compliment slipping out so effortlessly it felt rehearsed. Yet, it hit Ford squarely, easily peeling away another layer of his exterior. There was no mistaking the way Reg looked at him—an intensity, an almost predatory focus that tugged at Ford, drawing him in despite himself.

     “Thank you,” Ford responded, the words spilling out before he could even think them through. They felt foreign on his lips, stiff and out of place. His voice wavered, betraying the storm inside him as he realized just how close they were now and how their hands were still clasped together. The haze of the high wrapped tighter around him, blurring the edges of everything. He felt the room growing smaller, the space more intimate. Reg’s proximity was intoxicating, the quiet promise lingering between them, and Ford felt himself teetering on the edge of something he wasn’t prepared for.

     Amid the swirl of sensation, guilt surged through him, sharp and unwelcome, cutting through the fog. His mind flitted back to Bill and he realized that this was the longest he’d gone without thinking of him in weeks, without the emptiness that had been gnawing at him since. But the void was still there, like a gaping wound, and the thought of filling it with anyone else sent a pang of regret through him. It wasn’t fair—none of this was.

     The ache in his chest became unbearable. He sucked in a breath, pulling his hand back in a sharp, reflexive motion, retreating before he could let himself fall any further. The air between them felt cold in an instant, the warmth of Reg’s touch fading too quickly. Ford’s movements were jerky, deliberate, as he turned away, reaching into his coat, searching for an escape from the intimacy that had come too close for comfort.

     “Can I smoke these in here?” Ford’s voice cut through the heavy silence, awkward and abrupt, like a stone dropped into still water. The tension shattered, fragmented around them as he fumbled to fish a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. The familiar weight settled in his hand, a small comfort, something solid to hold onto in the rising warmth of the moment.

     Reg laughed, a low, rich sound that filled the space between them, effortless and unbothered. It felt like he could hear the chaos in Ford’s head, the way his thoughts tumbled over one another, trying and failing to resist the pull of the moment. “You can smoke whatever you like in here,” Reg replied, his tone easy, unfazed. He took another slow drag from the joint, his gaze steady and unflinching, watching Ford like he could see right through him.

     Ford’s hands shook slightly as he pulled out a cigarette, turning it over in his fingers. He took a deep breath, hoping the familiar ritual would steady him, but it did little to quell the whirlpool of emotions churning inside. The room seemed to close in around him, the boundaries of this strange, intimate space blurring. He could feel Reg’s eyes on him, studying him, and that gaze—it wasn’t just curious, it was deeper, more knowing. It made him nervous.

     Ford fumbled through his pockets, fingers clumsily brushing the fabric in search of matches. “Fuck,” he muttered around the cigarette hanging between his lips, realizing they were still tucked away in his lab coat, far away from here. His eyes flicked back to Reg. “You got a light?”

     Reg didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hand slid around the back of Ford’s neck, the touch soft, deliberate, sending a pulse of electricity through Ford’s veins. Before Ford could react, Reg was pulling him closer, their faces just inches apart. The joint was almost burned down now, just a smoldering ember at the tip, but enough to get the job done.

     Reg leaned in, the joint held between his lips as he brought it to Ford’s cigarette. Their faces were so close now, Ford could feel the heat of Reg’s breath mixing with his own, the soft exhale of smoke curling between them like a veil, thick and intimate. The flicker of the flame illuminated Reg’s eyes—dark, focused, and anything but subtle now.

     Ford’s heart pounded, a rhythm that matched the tension rising between them, the closeness almost unbearable. The ember glowed, casting a warm, brief light across their faces, and Ford inhaled sharply, his cigarette igniting with a soft crackle. But he barely noticed, too consumed by the way Reg was looking at him, the intensity in his gaze.

     Reg’s fingers were like feathers at the back of Ford’s neck, his thumb brushing against the nape of his skin, light, but covetous. Ford’s pulse raced, the warmth of Reg’s touch seeping into him, disarming him in a way he hadn’t expected. The smoke between them thickened, curling up in lazy spirals, filling the space with a heavy, intoxicating haze. Ford exhaled slowly, his breath mingling with Reg’s as they stayed close, neither one pulling back.

     Ford felt himself loosening, surrendering to the look in Reg’s eyes, yet beneath that ease lay an undercurrent of apprehension. It was subtle at first, almost like a gentle pull drawing him deeper into the moment, but then it magnified—every detail sharper, inescapable. The way Reg’s shirt hung loosely off one shoulder, the deliberate way he sat, angling his body just enough for Ford to catch the view he wanted him to see, every move intentional. Ford was all too aware of it, and that awareness made it intoxicating. Made it terrifying.

     Reg was leaning closer now, the tension between them so thick it buzzed in the air. Ford’s heart thudded wildly, matching the flurry of emotions swirling in his head. The thrill of this moment battled with the shadow that dwelled in his mind. Bill . Bill, who was always there, an ache that never fully left. But it was different now. He was tired. He was high. He was sad.

     And Reg—Reg was here. Solid, real, warm, his fingers ghosting across Ford’s thigh, light enough to be innocent but with an edge of intent that made Ford’s pulse spike. It was like a flame igniting his nerves, spreading heat through his body, making it hard to think straight, hard to resist the pull between them.

     They were just looking at each other now, every second feeling like a step closer and Ford wasn’t sure he could pull away from it. His hand stayed just a moment longer on Ford’s thigh, igniting more than just his skin. They were so close now—close enough that Ford could smell faint fragrance of Reggie’s lotion, how it clung to his skin—he smelled like patchouli. Earthy, grounding, yet heady in the thick air closing between them. 

          Ford liked patchouli.

     “You ever been with a man before?” Reg asked, his voice quiet and smooth as his fingers tiptoed further up Ford’s thigh, tracing delicate patterns against his denim. The intimacy of the gesture sent shivers through Ford, igniting a warmth that spread from the point of contact.

     Ford met his gaze again, feeling the gravity of the moment settle around them. The facade of subtlety in Reg’s eyes had vanished, replaced by curiosity and an intensity that made Ford feel flush. That curiosity came with a weight of memories he still couldn’t shake. He could almost feel Bill’s presence in the room—the sharpness of his wit, the intensity of his gaze that had always left Ford feeling both exposed and exhilarated.

     Reg was different—but he was confident and charming in a way that drew Ford in, filling a void he hadn’t realized he’d been yearning to fill. Reg wasn’t Bill, not even close, but there was something tantalizing about his attention, the way he flattered and teased, reading Ford like a book, getting under his skin. The thought stirred a bittersweet ache within him. The turmoil twisted in his gut, the allure of Reg’s touch and the pulse of longing made it difficult to think clearly. He swallowed hard, battling the nerves that threatened to overwhelm him.

          Ford nodded lightly to the question, redness creeping across his cheeks as he fought to reconcile the whirlwind of emotions inside him. Reg wasn’t Bill, but maybe—he could just— pretend?

               No

     In an instant, the spell broke. Ford recoiled, drawing a measured breath and sitting up straighter, guilt spilling through him as the moment slipped away. He couldn’t do it. Quickly, he took a puff of his cigarette and retreated, the smoke swirling around him as he tucked into himself, a futile attempt to mask the tension that still crackled in the air. He couldn’t bear to look at Reg, his leg bouncing nervously under the weight of his eyes.

     Reg rested back on his elbow, a tight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, as if to savor the remnants of that moment. Ford caught his breath, the memory of their closeness was heavy in the smoky air, like a half-finished thought, tantalizing and unresolved. Regret was already bubbling up in Ford’s chest. This is exactly why he left you. He pulled his knees closer to his body, keeping his eyes fixed forward, puffing at his cigarette, resisting.

     Reggie just looked at him, a knowing expression settling on his features. “You’ve already bit, hm?” he asked, his tone a teasing caress, yet there was a deeper undercurrent, tender and understanding.

     Ford closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, savoring the familiar burn of the cigarette. He let the smoke roll from his mouth in a slow, deliberate stream, each exhale a quiet acknowledgment of the truth he couldn’t quite articulate. He nodded quickly, nervously, the admission heavy on him, mingling with the haze of the moment.

     Reggie’s gaze roamed over Ford, lingering. It felt disarming and nerve wracking. “Is he kind?” he inquired, his voice low and rich, the question weaving itself into the fragile fabric of their conversation.

     Ford swallowed hard, the words lodged in his throat like stones as he fixed his gaze forward, unable to turn back and face him. He felt the smoke curl around him, a gentle embrace that offered both comfort and confinement. Stillness stretched between them, thick with unspoken truths and the weight of concession.

     “I see,” Reggie said, his voice dropping further, almost conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret. He began swaying his knee back and forth, a rhythmic motion that mirrored the tension building in the air around them. “Do you like that?” he pressed, a daring curiosity lacing his words.

     Ford remained silent, his body taut with the effort of holding back, wrestling with the question’s gravity and its answer. Stillness fell between them again; responding not with his voice, nor with his body. But the answer was there, hanging in the space between them, pulsing with unacknowledged longing. He didn’t need to say anything; the truth lay in the way his breath quickened, the way his heart raced, a confession spoken in the silence.

     Laughter erupted from the other room, shattering the fragile bubble they had created. The sound spilled into the space like a sudden gust of wind, accompanied by the slam of the back door and the clamor of boots stomping across the floor. Fiddleford and two other house guests reentered the living room, their exuberance vibrant and chaotic. Ford felt a conflicting rush of relief and disappointment wash over him—relief that the pressure of the moment had lifted, but disappointment that he was losing what he hadn’t quite grasped, and the relief it offered him. But the weight of Reg’s gaze felt too heavy to bear, and he wanted to leave; he couldn’t take it anymore.

     Fidds glanced over at the two men gathered at the table, his smile faltering as he took in Ford’s hunched posture, the way his leg bounced nervously—a telltale sign of his discomfort. Fidds had known Ford long enough to recognize when he was struggling, down to the way he was holding his cigarette; awkwardly pinched between his index finger and thumb. Classic Ford. Even if he didn’t know the details of what happened after he stepped out, the distance Ford had created between himself and Reg tugged at his heart. There was a flicker of guilt simmering in his chest; he’d thought inviting Ford out would help him relax, help him meet new people, but it had clearly backfired. Fidds wanted to be a good friend, to encourage Ford to break out of the shell he often retreated into, but all he saw now was Ford’s unease, the way he faced away, lost in thought.

     “We’d better get going,” Fidd said, his voice cutting through the laughter as he locked eyes with Ford across the room, a silent acknowledgment of the turmoil they both felt. He was aware, on some level, that Ford was grappling with something deeper, something that made him work himself to the bone. Fidds wished he could pry it out, wished he could ease the burden Ford carried, but he didn’t know; the weight of absence heavy on his friend’s shoulders, the truth of his feelings. All he knew was that his friend was fighting battles unspoken. But he didn’t need to know. Not everything. Not if Ford wasn’t ready.

     With a gentle resolve, Fidd slapped a wad of cash onto the glass table and smiled at Reg, the sound sharp and decisive against the laughter still bubbling in the background. “The store closes early on Sunday.” he said before he reached out to Ford, offering a hand to help him stand. Ford hesitated, feeling the remnants of the intimate moment with Reg still on his mind, the unvoiced confessions now overshadowed by the arrival of laughter and light. But he took Fidd’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled up, the warmth of their connection a reminder of the world beyond the chaos of his mind.

     Reg reached the door first, his hand poised on the handle as he swung it open, helping them on their way out. Fidds walked out first, exchanging brief pleasantries as he and Reg passed one another. He went stepping into the cool air with a casualness, almost skipping down the concrete steps.

     Ford followed just behind, flustered and desperate to escape the remnants of the visit. The cold air hit him like a splash of cold water, stark and refreshing, but it couldn’t shake the heat still lingering in his cheeks. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping to soothe what was wrestling in him. As he stepped through the threshold, he felt a gentle tug on the sleeve of his coat.

     Ford turned back, caught off guard by Reg’s presence so close again. “Come back whenever you’re ready,” Reg said, his voice low and inviting, hanging in the air like a spell waiting to be broken.

     Heat flooded Ford’s cheeks, and he cleared his throat, the sound sharp against the stillness between them. He nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration coursing through him in a way that was unsettlingly exhilarating. Without another word, he turned away, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he trudged after Fidds, the weight of Reg’s words in his ear.

     As they approached Fidds’ car, Ford felt the urge to look back, a magnetic pull compelling him to see if Reg was still watching. He stole a glance over his shoulder just as he reached the car door, and there was Reg, framed in the doorway, eyes fixed on him with an intensity that sent a perturbed vibration through Ford’s chest.

     Suddenly, the air felt even cooler, sharper, and he snapped his head forward, tucking into his shoulders as if to shrink away from the warmth of Reg’s gaze. He felt exposed, and unsteady as he climbed into the car, the weight of the afternoon pressing down on him —uncertainty, agitation, and something that tasted faintly of observation. He couldn’t quite explain it, couldn’t articulate the tumult that churned in his chest. It was probably just in his head, he told himself, but the sensation remained. It felt, oddly, as though every moment spent in Reg’s presence had been a probing examination, intentional. He couldn’t shake the feeling—as though, that entire time, he was being watched.

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[Read Entire Work Here]

[pinetreesdoodles]

RIP bill cipher you would’ve gone FERAL over neopronouns 😞

[yesyourstalker]

Makeup artist:.......... Are you nervous?

Baja: a little bit.... This isn't like in front of a studio audience right

Makeup artist: No sweetie, it's just a one-on-one interview.

Baja: that's good. Who are we interviewing?

Makeup artist: You're going to have to ask the show-runner, Mickey.

Mickey: let's go. Let's go. Let's go what takes so long putting powder on a face. He has perfect skin anyway. We had to get him to the dressing room. We start filming in a couple minutes

Makeup artist: I'm finished. Just need to map down some scales and he's...... All done. You're free to go sweetie

Baja: thank you

Mickey: So you must be then host of the show. Sorry I wasn't able to meet you sooner. I was on vacation. Oshi told me you're a really good candidate for this show. You seem to be competent you know your way around music....*sip* ..... Coffee?

Baja: I don't really drink that much coffee. I like tea though

Mickey: Green tea! *Snap*. .*snap*

Assistant: your green tea

Baja: thank you

Mickey: Well I know one thing for sure. She was right about the pretty face. Now as you get dressed head to the studio so we start filming promotional material Ramon should be there with you. After your interview which will count as the pilot

Tammy: Mickey listen I really think you should reconsider about not casting me for the show

Mickey: No....*sip*

Tammy: but I really think you should I mean I can at least be co-host. I'm great to be around! Tell him, baba

Baja: it's Baja

Mickey: No, we need to bring up the sea slug viewership

Tammy: I can be the second co-host

Mickey:....*sigh*...... Tammy listen to me. You didn't get the job all right. You just don't fit the criteria we need for this show and this channel. But hey you have other opportunities for other networks alright. You're pretty, you're bubbly and you have a nice rack. You can get a job anywhere with those qualities around here.... You're just not going to find it at this station

Tammy: but-

Mickey: goooooood byyyyyyyyyyyyyeeee Tammy!!

Security guard: Right this way ma'am

Tammy: Mickey!!! I'll have your fucking job!!

Mickey: we'll see you next week Tammy we're filming the season finale

Baja: she seemed pretty upset

Mickey: eh she'll get over it ... She's been in a couple of shows here and there on the network. She plays Kate the baby sitter on 'dock and dingy' ......*sip* ..... She'll be fine. Here Is your dressing room your clothes should be folded

Baja: alright... and I just head to set after

Mickey: yep your's and Ramon's chairs will be the brown arm chairs. The musician or celebrity will be sitting on the loveseat and will perform on the stage behind you

Baja: they're going to perform?

Mickey: yeah.. yeah they're starting their Solo career

_______________________________________________

Ramon: hey... You look good. They spruced up your wardrobe too

Baja: yeah. I wonder if we're able to take this home with us

Ramon: probably. I think it'd be easier just to keep in our dressing rooms for now. Keep our work clothes separate from our regular clothes. Feels like bad energy to mix them together.

Baja: how so?

Ramon: I mean this nice brand name stuff fancy designs, colors and a hefty price on it. It's nice but it isn't really me. It's what the studio and the producers want me to be and I rather keep that at work when. I go home I wear my regular off-brand jeans, my 8-year-old sweater and a pair of kicks with a hole in it. That's me. That's who I am. A regular person, I'm not above anyone and I don't want to feel like I am. Get what I'm saying

Baja: yeah... I get it. You don't want the job to change you

Ramon: exactly

Mickey: All right! Hitch you got the shot?

Hitch: Yeah I got it. We can use this for commercials

Baja: you were filming?

Mickey: Yeah yeah no worries. We just wanted to film you guys interacting. We didn't tell you cuz we wanted to look natural.

Hitch: we didn't have any mics on so we couldn't hear what you were saying so don't worry about it. I'm the director by the way names Hitch. Nice to meet you..

Baja: hello

Ramon: hey

Mickey: alright so we're going to start filming the show in 30 minutes. Kikura is their dressing room.

Ramon: Kikura from C-side?

Mickey: yeah

Kikura: sorry I'm late.. I tend to procrastinate when I'm getting ready for these types of things...... Not a good excuse but... yeah

Mick: Well that's perfectly fine. We'll be filming in a couple minutes this is Ramon and this is Baja. They're going to be the ones interviewing you

Kikura: hey

Hitch: while we wait for that, let's do some more advertisements

______________________________________________

Assistant: alright..... Advertisement 2 take one...[clap]

Baja: Hi my name is baja and I'm the new host of the inklab's new show 'music at midnight'.... Me and my new co-host Ramon

Ramon: sup

Baja: we're going to be interviewing musicians from all walks of life

Ramon: and different genres.

Baja: We're going to have nice conversations getting to know them, telling us some really cool stories.

Ramon: a show airs Thursdays at 11:30 p.m. can't wait to see you there!

Hitch: CUT!.... Great! We're going to do some more editing and maybe some reshoots on that but here is your intro You're going to do this during every episode you introduce yourself. You tell them what show they're watching and then you tell the current news what's going on in the music world..... You're also going to have to do that when you start writing articles for the blog, but we'll get to that later. ... Here's the monologue script. If you want to go off script feel free... Go over it, memorize We'll film in 15...... Oshi! Good to see you..*mwah mwah* how are you baby

Oshi: Hitch! Hope everything is going well I just wanted to check in on everyone

Hitch: yes... You're going to start filming soon so have a seat....(Pat...Pat)

Oshi: alright..... I'm getting a call.....*ugh*..............[inhale].....[exhale]...... Hi Shimi! How are you doing dear?... Are you having fun on the farm? I saw some pictures warabie posted on squidder. You look cute riding the tracker hehhe....... Well you only have one week left honey..... yes I've enjoyed my break..... The church? If that works for you honey I guess it gives you a purpose.........*sigh*...(Eye roll)....acting is also your purpose I know...how's warabie is he having fun?......well tell him to try to enjoy himself..............yes ...... alright good bye hun.............

_______________________________________________

Shimi: hm.....

Merv: Shimi it's your turn to take the manatees out to graze, take your son with you. Noiji start up the tractor I need you to harvest the octoberries, ikkan pack up squidmelons and head into town. Koi would you help me harvest some of the squid lemons

Koi-koi: I'd love to

Merv: Cirrina sweetheart you said you're going into the city for a school project?

Cirrina: Yeah just for 2 hours. When I get back I'll feed the krill and clean out their coop

Merv: All right, be safe

Shimi: warabie help me load up the manatees

Warabie: yeah..... What were you calling Mom about?

Shimi: It's none of your concern she didn't let me talk anyway............

Warabie:... All right, the manatees are in (bump...bump).....

Shimi: alright...................

Warabie:............so what's mom up to at home?

Shimi: she's working on project O.E.T network

Warabie: that's nice she's been working on that for years

Shimi: *humpf*.... We've been working on for years.... Typical of her to go behind my back and do things without my permission or opinion

Warabie:...... Oooookkkaaay...........hm.................hey mahi

_______________________________________________

Mahi: hey dude

Warabie: what's going on at home?

Mahi: nothing much. Baja got a new job...... stop!........ Yeah, he's going to be on TV now. That's pretty neat

Warabie: tv?!

Mahi: some talk show.... Midnight music...... Music at midnight something.....neta stop spawn camping!

Neta: I'm not spawn camping

Warabie: he got the job!? How did he get the job?!

Mahi: I don't know, I really haven't had time to talk to him. He's been in and out of the apartment for like days now..... cod damn it!.... Let me leave the base at least...... fuck!

Neta:hehehehehehehe... I'm sorry .hehehe

Mahi: sorry... Neta's being an asshole...uhhhhh...Baja honestly hasn't been here and when he is here he's just there to get dressed and then leave.

Warabie:*sigh*....... good for him... Guess he's going to be the new breadwinner

Mahi: hey so when are you coming home?

Warabie: end of the week I should be home

Mahi: great apartments too quiet and-Neta!

Neta: what?! What am I doing wrong? I'm just playing the game. It's not my fault you always end up in my range of sight. Get good at the game

Mahi:*huff*... Can you come home faster? I miss you

Warabie: aww I miss you too mahi.. I honestly want to go home too. This place sucks ......I'm tired of scooping Manatee shit and hauling crates of squidmatoes

Neta: ask him the question

Mahi: *ugh*........are you able to bring home fresh produce and milk

Warabie: I....... I'm going to have to ask ikkan's dad that

Shimi: we're here unload the manatees

Warabie: I got to go.... text you later..........

Mahi: bye..... I'm not playing with you anymore! I'm done with this game....

Neta: One more round. I want to get a gold badge on this weapon I'm two games away. You can be on my team this time

_______________________________________________

Cirrina: .......this must be the address..........(Knock knock)

Bayou: Cirrina! You showed up!

Cirrina: yeah....hehehe sorry if I'm a little early ...

Bayou: no worries. Come in, come in you can use your shoes on the shelf right here. So what do you want to know about krillarney?

Cirrina: I'm just you know the origins and the history of krillarney...... You lived on the surface for most of your life, right? Is that true for most octolings here?

Bayou: yeah... Most of us here spent their whole lives on the surface though there are some who moved here who previously lived underground

Cirrina: Interesting......so... And did your family move here?

Bayou:...... I think you might get more information from my nan.... Nana!!....... You remember my Nana. from church?

Nana: yes!? Bayou? What is it love?.....oh... Dear the little girl from church. Nice to see you again sweetie

Cirrina: hello..

Bayou: Nan do you mind if she asks you a few questions?

Nana: I have no problems sweetie

Cirrina: It's just a couple questions .. . I'm doing a five-page essay on octarian history in other countries

Nana: wasn't that nice? Well what do you want to know dear?

Cirrina: uhhhh .... When did you move here

Nana: oh I have no idea sweetie It's been years...... The war started when I was around......10 of 11 years old. I lived with my two sisters in a small village My mother was a School teacher and my father passed away years ago.

Cirrina: *writing*

Nana at the time my village was not affected by the high tides but it was targeted with conflict over land and resources. Next thing you know, I was being drafted for the war along with my two sisters. They just turned 13. They never held a weapon before. My mother couldn't even imagine them going to war, it was only after the first bomb we decided to leave. We had to leave quickly so we weren't able to bring a lot. All we had to pack was whatever we could fit in our backpacks. I packed two dresses, pair of pants, three shirts and one skirt. I also packed my Adva doll she's the only toy I played with for years.

Cirrina: *writing*

Nana: My mother was good friends with a man who moved to our village before the war happened. He was a nice inkling man Mr. Doal he offered to help us leave. His son got drafted and passed away early in the midst of combat. He told us about a developing sovereign country called krillarney that was currently taking in anyone and everyone across the world who wanted to get away from the war

Cirrina: *write*..... So how did you get to krillarney

Nana: we were informed that there were fairies and ships offering to help people leave. We set our trip in the middle of the night and met up with Mr. Dole and other people who wanted to leave as well. The walk was 3 hours straight. No brakes, no rest until we made it to the coast and we got onto a ship. It was a squid beak ship if I remember, The S. S. Escargot. We sailed for a week to krillarney making several stops picking others in similar situations.

Cirrina: was it just inkfish who were escaping?

Nana: oh no there were so many people from so many walks of life on the ship. Urchins, fish, cephalopods, Crustaceans. So many were affected by this war. I remember seeing some still wearing their military uniforms. It was their only chance to leave and they took it

Cirrina: when you got to krillarney what was it like? Was different from how it is today.

Nana: Well I can tell you one thing we didn't have these malls, outlets or a nice studio apartment like I have now hehehe. .... When I first got here My mother could only afford a nice small house with two bedrooms. Our neighbor was young octoling and his wife was a bass. They were enlisted in the military for years. When the war started they were completely against it. They were planning on having kids at the time they couldn't do that if they were at war. Unfortunately they weren't able to have kids but they watched me and my sister so many times that they kind of saw us as their kids hehehe

Cirrina: *writing*...... Do you ever think about your old village? What happened to it?

Nana:............. Well....um..... Like I said at the time the high tides didn't affect my home but.............. Soon enough it was............. Everything was wiped out and everyone......... From what I know now....... The water levels have subsided and it is inhabitable but............ I just never went back. Everything I know about that place is gone. My home my toys.....some of my old friends

Cirrina:.... I'm sorry.......

Nana: it's alright love

Cirrina: ....... I think I asked enough questions

Nana: are you sure? I could tell you more

Cirrina: oh that's ok really.... I have enough to write my paper. I have to get home to do my chores

Bayou: alright..... Do you want me to walk you to the fairy dock?

Cirrina: (blush).... well........ok...

Bayou: great..... I'll be right back Nana

Nana: Come back safe

Cirrina:..........................

Bayou:...........................

Cirrina:..................

Bayou:..............you know we have tons of historical sites here if you ever want to check them out..... Add some photos for extra credit

Cirrina: that would be nice but I really need to get home

Bayou: we don't have to do it today.

Cirrina: I leave at the end of the week

Bayou: Well you can plan something for this week maybe Tomorrow maybe?....

Cirrina: I can see.... Yeah I think tomorrow would be good yeah..

Bayou: All right so why don't we meet up here again at 2:00 and I can take you to the lighthouse, The bridge of new beginnings and I can even take you to the museum

Cirrina: Great! It's a date! I mean....uh... No! It's not a date..... it's a day out....an outing yeah it's it's it's an outing we're going out......for the day! We're going out for the day

Bayou:..heheheheheh... Here's my number....... I'll text you tomorrow. See ya Cirrina!

Cirrina: bye..hehehehehe........*sigh*..........

_______________________________________________

Assistant director: 'music at midnight'.... Introduction take three!.....(CLAP)

Hitch:go!

Baja: welcome, welcome! Welcome my name is Baja! And this is my co-host Ramon

Ramon: hey!

Baja: I'm very excited to say that this is the first episode of our very new show called 'music at midnight'. What is music at midnight? Well as the names in the title says we're going to be talking about music and it's going to be airing during midnight.

Roman: yep so while we sit here and talk and do interviews. You're going to be sitting on your couch or in your bed and your nice warm jammies.....

Baja: I wish we could wear pajamas

Ramon: Right? We should ask the exacts for a pajama day

Baja: hahahaha...(CLAP)..... All right, let's get started.... Today's music news....... But before we do that, who's who's with us today

Ramon: today we have Kikura sitting in our guest seat

Kikura: hey everyone

Baja: so we Kikura here today and there the guitarist for the band c-side and she's a part of another group riot act.....now Kikura is it true that riot act actually came before the band C-side?

Kikura: uh....oh my cod.......uh wow..... Yeah actually that is true. It did come before C-side... Technically yes but at the time it was not called riot act.... It was actually called 'no boys allowed' uhhehe.... We were in high school that was our original band.... We were in an all-girls school. We were just a couple of weird kids just screwing around... We were all in theater together and we used to hang out under the bleachers and I don't remember who mentioned it but one of us said "wouldn't be funny if we started a band and we had no idea how to play the instruments"....and heh That's how it really started

Baja: it started out as a bit?

Kikura: Yeah it started out as a bit. We started to borrow instruments from The music room and we started to play, used to write music together like we had our own group chat and everything ... It started to get serious during second year of school. It started out as a joke and then just kind of started to really get into it and we really just stopped seeing it as a joke and started seeing it as more of a hobby and soon after we started to book gigs, shows and sets in people's basements. It just kind of took off after that.

Ramon: so what made you join C-side?

Kikura: so C-side started after I met Beika it was a small underground club. He recognized me from my band and he was really excited to see me! He told me that he was a bass player and his old roommate was a drummer and they needed a guitar player. He had a couple songs that he's written and he wanted my opinion on it. He wanted to see if I was able to do a demo track for him.

Baja: *nods*

Kikura: a couple weeks of talking I went to the studio and I met Uotora... He's such a sweetheart oh my cod.... We did rewrites and we wrote some more music. We did some test tracks and 5 hours later I was officially a part of the band...

Baja: what was your first concert like.... You played in sesame hall as the opener for wet floor

Kikura: I was surprisingly calm during the whole show. Really thought I was going to panic and freeze up because this is the first actual concert like a concert concert like it wasn't just a group of people hehehe in a backyard. I remember the crowd wasn't that enthusiastic when we came up but after playing 'click bate' people really just started to really get into it and we just formed a fan base after that.

Ramon: are you still a part of that band? After you released your new album with riot act

Kikura: oh yeah definitely. I'm still a part of the band I'm not going anywhere. This ain't that kind of band. Do we treat each other with respect...hehehe...hm... But no this is just a side project. We all just started talking again and it's just a passion project we're just doing really

Baja: and speaking of passion projects, let's get to the news....Nami one of the members of beloved yet controversial bands front roe has enough that branching off and starting a solo career. Today on Inkstagram she announced that she's working on a new album and writing her own songs she even took a selfie of herself in the studio showing in the recording booth.

Ramon: I think nami's very underrated in the band. It's good to see she's getting out there

Kikura: I'm so happy that she is. I only met her two times. It was during the black square music festival and the seashore awards she is so nice, she's so kind and so pretty. We were talking and I brought up keeping my music in a notebook and she did the same thing too. She has several notebooks of music that she really wants to make but it doesn't really fit the sound of 'squid squad'..... Well I guess it's front roe now but she's kept those book for years... I truly hope she's putting those to good use

Baja: You know this actually isn't her first solo work. She worked on a soundtrack for 'high-rise falling 4'. It was a video game for the gamer boy x system.

Kikura: really?

Raman: Yeah I know that she composed background music for the menu and she also made The third boss Battle song. Man If they ever make the movie of high-rise falling

Baja: they are never going to make that movie.... It's always in production hell for years now

Kikura: I've only played the second and third game in that series, but I heard the movie is going to be starting off with The fifth installment and going backwards which doesn't make any sense

Hitch: what is high-rise falling? I don't know what that is. What are they talking about?

Oshi: It's just a game that these kids play. The audience will know what they're talking about

Ramon: they should bring her back for the movie. It would be really cool if she remixed her original tracks. I love that for him. I'm happy that she's making music. I'm really excited..... What else we have for the news

Baja: SashiMori are no longer doing fall tours or winter tours like they used to

Raman: oh?

Baja: So one of the members, Paul. He's no longer able to travel because he has school so they're going to have to do summer tours

Ramon: that makes sense.... I remember their last tour was during fall during spook fest. Everyone dressed up in costumes and during their last set, people were giving out candy.... Folks was handed a bucket before they got into the arena. it was good candy too like people were getting full size candy bars..... What type of candy do you like? I like gum.... You could never go wrong with gum..... Good flavor, good texture... And you can blow bubbles with it. What about you?

Baja: I enjoy chocolate... I love a good piece of chocolate..... Especially if it has a filling in it like marshmallow or something.....Kikura?

Kikura: I would say I'm a hard candy type of person.... I enjoy jawbreakers

Baja: really

Kikura: Yes, it lasts longer than most candies and..... Besides lollipops It is the only candy that is socially acceptable to take out of your mouth

Hitch: do we have any chocolate sponsors?

Oshi: no but I can get with the marketing team and see what we can do

[one hour of banter later]

Baja: Well folks that's our show! Thank you for being here for our first ever episode. The riot act album will be released on the 22 so make sure you check your local stores for it....now enjoy one of their debut songs 'No planned survivors'

[riot act performing in the back ground]

Mickey: what are the viewerships right now?

Assistant: Right now the viewerships are sitting at 89.4 million...and online..... only 20k views... But that number might rise in the next week

Mickey: [inhale].....[exhale]...... What do you estimate the viewership for ink lab plus?

Assistant: Well..... Judging from the viewership on TV and the viewership on the app we might be able to gain..................... 100 million first episode maybe even more...

Executive: I don't understand it! they talked about video games and then candy, went on a tangent about handbags and backpacks. How is this popular?! This is supposed to be about music and celebrities.

Oshi: Kids today aren't really all that interested in celebrities showing off their fancy cars, expensive clothes and lifestyle. They're bored at that and so are the newer artists. They just want to know who they are as a person....if knowing about their favorite candy and opinions on games keeps them engaged and interested in their music and our show I see no problem with it

Mickey: hmmmm.....

Hitch: I think we might need a meeting for this. I have an idea

Oshi: what's the idea

Hitch: we haven't had that much traction on the app for a while. instead of making a recorded video the next time we film we do a live stream and have the audience involved with the conversation

Mickey: I like that. Keeps the audience engaged and keeps the viewerships high. it saves money on editing

Hitch:......... These kids are going to make us a lot of money

_______________________________________________

Neta had 12 kills in one match and 6 of them were mahi

lmao fish was fighting for their life @fish-at-fish-fish-resort

[pineyw00dsshesquatch]

I really loved making anthro pokemon. Humanoid body types take all the fun out of it.

listen pokemon is really cool but some of the final evos for the starters are really pushing it for pokemon. that is not a thing that eats from a bowl on the ground that cunt pays rent and goes to gay bars on the weekend

[hellyeahsickaf]

I found an extremely dope disability survival guide for those who are homebound, bedbound, in need of disability accommodations, or would otherwise like resources for how to manage your life as a disabled person. (Link is safe)

It has some great articles and resources and while written by people with ME/CFS, it keeps all disabilities in mind. A lot of it is specific to the USA but even if you're from somewhere else, there are many guides that can still help you. Some really good ones are:

How to live a great disabled life- A guide full of resources to make your life easier and probably the best place to start (including links to some of the below resources). Everything from applying for good quality affordable housing to getting free transportation, affordable medication, how to get enough food stamps, how to get a free phone that doesn't suck, how to find housemates and caregivers, how to be homebound, support groups and Facebook pages (including for specific illnesses), how to help with social change from home, and so many more.

Turning a "no" into a "yes"- A guide on what to say when denied for disability aid/accommodations of many types, particularly over the phone. "Never take no for an answer over the phone. If you have not been turned down in writing, you have not been turned down. Period."

How to be poor in America- A very expansive and helpful guide including things from a directory to find your nearest food bank to resources for getting free home modifications, how to get cheap or free eye and dental care, extremely cheap internet, and financial assistance with vet bills

How to be homebound- This is pretty helpful even if you're not homebound. It includes guides on how to save spoons, getting free and low cost transportation, disability resources in your area, home meals, how to have fun/keep busy while in bed, and a severe bedbound activity master list which includes a link to an audio version of the list on Soundcloud

Master List of Disability Accommodation Letters For Housing- Guides on how to request accommodations and housing as well as your rights, laws, and prewritten sample letters to help you get whatever you need. Includes information on how to request additional bedrooms, stop evictions, request meetings via phone, mail, and email if you can't in person, what you can do if a request is denied, and many other helpful guides

Special Laws to Help Domestic Violence Survivors (Vouchers & Low Income Housing)- Protections, laws, and housing rights for survivors of DV (any gender), and how to get support and protection under the VAWA laws to help you and/or loved ones receive housing and assistance

Dealing With Debt & Disability- Information to assist with debt including student loans, medical debt, how to deal with debt collectors as well as an article with a step by step guide that helped the author cut her overwhelming medical bills by 80%!

There are so many more articles, guides, and tools here that have helped a lot of people. And there are a lot of rights, resources, and protections that people don't know they have and guides that can help you manage your life as a disabled person regardless of income, energy levels, and other factors.

Please boost!

[anakinh]

i can't wait until i get enough clout in my job to be bitchy. not like, be a bitch, but be bitchy. i work in climate change and decarbonization. i need to be bitchy. like imagine

a company's emission disclosures and their sustainability goals are literally just a post on facebook

no i cannot 'move your emissions' so you 'don't need to disclose it'

bezos earth fund????

this american organization's website is somehow subtly hyper-american and i don't trust it. like it's not actually extremely american but it feels like only 1) an american who's 2) writing this for politicians could've made this website. the vibes are rancid.

bezos earth fund???

your company cares so much about sustainability that you're following all of these standards and certifications AND your company is on the board for/founded the organizations who publish them? so you're patting yourself on the back for meeting international standards that you set?

am I being overtly cynical about this? do they genuinely want to help? I genuinely want to help and yet I am doing so in a capitalist structure even though capitalism caused most of this. how can you dismantle something using the same structure that caused it? i don't know if you can. i don't know how else to do it? i can't be that special. how many people are like me in those companies? Do they genuinely want to help? Are these measures and standards that they set actually useful? are the sustainability reports actually good or does it just sound good?

morality crisis

bezos earth fund???

[littlestpersimmon]

Hey guys. I'm so sorry, trying to sell some commissions but they are not getting picked up. I am feeling a bit antsy; my dad has been experiencing some really worrying symptoms like his arm going numb, fatigue for no reason, chest pains and I have been trying to get him to go to hospital because he has had heart problems for 5 years now. Would absolutely love jf anyone can please help me foot bills because my dad refuses to go to hospital as he doesn't want to "burden" me;;

Feeling a bit anxious as my work deadline is very tight rn to the point I might lose my job if I miss it; am feeling scared and desperate. Any help I deeply appreciate as the year closes;;

Will post my print store and patreon too later; I just have to finish cleaning the house rn

Sorry anything helps and happy holidays everyone

[sexbot300]

18+, minors dni! (being a slut for nanami bc honestly who isn’t)

authors note: hello! this is my first-ever post, i hope you guys enjoy it! (I literally have no idea how layouts work yet, bear with me)

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sugardaddy!nanami who scolds you whenever you feel as if you’re “doing too much,” with all the lavish gifts he gives you. nothing is too much for his angel.

sugardaddy!nanami that asks which jewelry set you like best. emerald or ruby? ah. how about both?

sugardaddy!nanami who you thought would be a joyless, serious man as people portray him. they’re not lying, he really is serious, to people that aren’t you. you’ll witness a soft side of him that only shows the most gentle of smiles.

sugardaddy!nanami who gladly scoops you up bridal style in his arms, walking while you burry your head into his chest.

sugardaddy!nanami who unpacks the gifts he gets you on the countertop after a business trip. “kento, baby, you shouldn’t have.” you play with the polyester ribbon while he simply leans back on the fridge opening up a beverage. “I couldn’t help but have the prettiest woman in the world waiting for me at home. it would be embarrassing of me to show up empty-handed.”

sugardaddy!nanami who for the first few times that you went out with him, meticulously kept track of the things you called “cute” and noted wherever your eyes wandered for a minute too long. the next morning you woke up with everything you ogled your eyes at decorating your room. attached is a note that read, “please forgive me, sweetheart, I didn’t know which you liked best. p.s. my sincerest apologies again, I let my own thoughts get carried away. be good for me and wear this tonight.” your fingers gingerly held onto the note, until your eyes fell on two things you don’t remember looking at when you went out shopping. a beautiful silk gown and an expensive lingerie set.

sugardaddy!nanami who will gladly kneel to strap your heel, placing a kiss on your ankle, after trailing his hand up and down your shin.

sugardaddy!nanami who sends you a monthly allowance for your hair, nails, skincare, and whatever you desire.

sugardaddy!nanami who thinks indulging in materialistic things is futile, but he wants to see you decorated in every fine piece of fabric, clothing, and accessories.

sugardaddy!nanami who acts as if he’s unbothered by you curling up on his lap while he types away on his work computer. you couldn’t even tell how much he adores every second of this as he idly types away. he loves to have you pushed up on him all the time, the minute you slightly move? a strong hand is placed on your thigh or waist to prevent you from leaving.

sugardaddy!nanami who’s only condition is to continue this dynamic until you’re unhappy or want nothing to do with it. (you literally want to marry this man but okay).

sugardaddy!nanami who has a saturday night ritual with you where you buy the most extravagant of desserts and feed it to each other. oh yeah, you have to be sitting on his lap the entire time while you both feed each other from the same fork.

sugardaddy!nanami who places his nose on the nape of your neck while you’re seated on him as he sharply breathes in your scent. “as much as I enjoy eating sweets with you,” he said in a whisper, “they could never mimic your taste.”

sugardaddy!nanami who started off paying your rent, bills, and utilities which he felt mentally, secretly disgruntled by. not because he’s paying (duh) or he has to take care of you, it’s just the fact you haven’t moved in with him yet.

sugardaddy!nanami who considers you under his care and deems your wellbeing as his responsibility. you’re hurt? point to where. your body is sore? lay back down while he massages you. you’re hungry? food is being sent over and here’s money for grocery shopping. you’re upset? he kneels down in front of you as he attentively listens to your sobs.

sugardaddy!nanami who supports your hobbies. he’ll drop off little things that he knows have to do with your interests and only says, “you like this don’t you?” you name drop pilates, cooking, art, knitting, whatever it is, he signs you up for the nearest classes.

sugardaddy!nanami who actually notices if you did something different with your hair, if you wore a new shade of lip gloss. little things.

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sugardaddy!nanami who places the most tender of kisses onto your forehead like he didn’t wreck your shit a second prior. “such a good girl… i’m so so proud. taking my cock in so well.”

sugardaddy!nanami that plays with your body in subtle ways. hands? his big, veiny fingers are stroking yours gently. thighs? constantly getting gripped. your waist? a strong arm wrapped around it. your cheek? a thumb stroking it. shoulders? relieving tension from it. collarbone? rearranging your necklace so it lays properly. guts? fucked out of place. makeup? smeared all across his luxurious bedsheets. lips? blown out from sucking his monster cock and making out.

sugardaddy!nanami who rents out an entire summer beach house with a glorious view of the ocean. partially because he likes the privacy of you two alone, surrounded by nature, and romantic sunset dinners. also because he wants to watch you ride him while he leans back on a beach chair without disturbing the public. (nobody is allowed to see what’s his).

sugardaddy!nanami who actually pounded you into another dimension, your mind still in a haze while he carries you to the running bath. “stay with me princess, i need to clean you up.”

sugardaddy!nanami who makes sure you finish several times before he does. oh poor baby, you’re out of breath? would you like some water? we’re not finished yet. poor nanami didn’t get to cum once, and you so badly want him to use your body to do so.

sugardaddy!nanami who buys you a personal collection of sex toys to play with when he’s not there. he personally studies the way your body twitches and convulses with certain toys, he needs to know how to please his princess. sometimes he chuckles to himself because he knows deep down, nothing– no one, can please you the way he does.

sugardaddy!nanami who sees you stressed or crying over school and work and quickly replaces those tears with ones of joy.

sugardaddy!nanami who will have you folded like a damn lawn chair and only whisper sweet nothings while drilling into you.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a high sex drive but hides it in the beginning like the gentleman he is, making sure you feel comfortable and safe.

sugardaddy!nanami who gives you the car you’ve been wanting forever. you ride the car for a bit with him ecstatic, kissing him over and over, giggling. you both quickly found a new way to celebrate. you’re pinned down over the glove compartment, one large hand gripping both of yours as they’re pinned to your back, and the sounds of skin slapping with your loud moans mix in the air. “ke-n-toooo~ I-I don’t want to ge- uh! It m-messy in h-ere…” “don’t worry darling, I-” a low grunt comes out, “i always cum inside dont I?” he quickens up the pace only to have you screaming like a whore. “t-that’s it. just take it. It feels good, I know,” he mercilessly pounds into you, kissing your temple, “just come undone on me, that’s it. make me proud.”

sugardaddy!nanami who texts you to quickly come to the office and sends you a cab for an urgent “visit.” why? he’s stressed and his favorite method to cool down is your throat expanding around his girthy dick. he'll grip the strands of your hair while cooing at you, "i know angel, i know. but you look so beautiful right now, don't stop."

sugardaddy!nanami who groans from the stressors of his job, turning his attention to you while he pushes himself back on his chair. he looks down on his bulge before sighing and tugging his tie down left and right. “go ahead. come suck me off, i need it and I know you want it too.”

sugardaddy!nanami who does the whole pillow underneath, hand pressed on lower abdomen, with a vibrator wand abusing your clit.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a diet that consists of devouring your pussy on a regular basis. “b-babe… i- ah! s-slow down,” as you elicit a loud dirty moan that fills the room, “pleaaaase.” if only you knew he takes more pleasure out of this than you and you’re the one gripping his hair to the point of leaving his scalp red. he further pushes his nose into you, mumbling, “beg all you want, I’m not done.”

sugardaddy!nanami who is a gentleman, really. who will kill anything within 5 meters if it remotely threatens you. but he can’t help but admire the way your little cunt can’t fully take it the first few times together.

sugardaddy!nanami who never thought much of daddy kinks, but when he hears “daddy” slip out of your precious mouth, his heels dig deeper into the mattress, his massive body weight shifts crushing you, angling his dick in an almost sinful way while pressing you deeper into a mating press. “say it again.”

sugardaddy!nanami who watches you squirm with a vibrator jammed to your clit and his tongue lapping up and down your cunt like any separation from his tongue and your pussy will cause his death. “k-kento s-stop this feeli- ah! I th- oh god! I think I need to pee!” he can’t help but chuckle in his head. his baby never squirted before until now.

sugardaddy!nanami who secretly wants to get you knocked up. man loves fucking his cum into you. he has such a big breeding kink that you catch on.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

[fullhalalalchemist]

URGENT: 🚨🚨EARN IT ACT IS BACK IN THE SENATE 🚨🚨 TUMBLR’S NSFW BAN HITTING THE ENTIRE INTERNET THIS SUMMER 2023

April 28, 2023

I’m so sorry for the long post but please please please pay attention and spread this

What is the EARN IT Act?

The EARN IT Act (s. 1207) has been roundly condemned by nearly every major LGBTQ+ advocacy and human rights organization in the country.

This is the third time the Senate has been trying to force this through, and I talked about it last year. It is a bill that claims "protects children and victims against CSAM" by creating an unelected and politically appointed national commission of law enforcement specialists to dictate "best practices" that websites all across the nation will be forced to follow. (Keep in mind, most websites in the world are created in the US, so this has global ramifications). These "best practices" would include killing encryption so that any law enforcement can scan and see every single message, dm, photo, cloud storage, data, and any website you have every so much as glanced at. Contrary to popular belief, no they actually can't already do that. These "best practices" also create new laws for "removing CSAM" online, leading to mass censorship of non-CSAM content like what happened to tumblr. Keep in mind that groups like NCOSE, an anti-LGBT hate group, will be allowed on this commission. If websites don't follow these best practices, they lose their Section 230 protections, leading to mass censorship either way.

Section 230 is foundational to modern online communications. It's the entire reason social media exists. It grants legal protection to users and websites, and says that websites aren't responsible for what users upload online unless it's criminal. Without Section 230, websites are at the mercy of whatever bullshit regulatory laws any and every US state passes. Imagine if Texas and Florida were allowed to say what you can and can't publish and access online. That is what will happen if EARN IT passes. (For context, Trump wanted to get rid of Section 230 because he knew it would lead to mass govt surveillance and censorship of minorities online.)

This is really not a drill. Anyone who makes or consume anything “adult” and LGBT online has to be prepared to fight Sen. Blumenthal’s EARN IT Act, brought back from the grave by a bipartisan consensus to destroy Section 230. If this bill passes, we’re going to see most, if not all, adult content and accounts removed from mainstream platforms. This will include anything related to LGBT content, including SFW fanfiction, for example. Youtube, Twitter, Reddit, Tiktok, Tumblr, all of them will be completely gutted of anything related to LGBT content, abortion healthcare, resources for victims of any type of abuse, etc. It is a right-wing fascists wet dream, which is why NCOSE is behind this bill and why another name for this bill is named in reference to NCOSE.

NCOSE used to be named Morality in Media, and has rebranded into an "anti-trafficking" organization. They are a hate group that has made millions off of being "against trafficking" while helping almost no victims and pushing for homophobic laws globally. They have successfully pushing the idea that any form of sexual expression, including talking about HEALTH, leads to sex trafficking. That's how SESTA passed. Their goal is to eliminate all sex, anything gay, and everything that goes against their idea of ‘God’ from the internet and hyper disney-fy and sanitize it. This is a highly coordinated attack on multiple fronts.

The EARN IT Act will lead to mass online censorship and surveillance. Platforms will be forced to scan their users’ communications and censor all sex-related content, including sex education, literally anything lgbt, transgender or non-binary education and support systems, aything related to abortion, and sex worker communication according to the ACLU. All this in the name of “protecting kids” and “fighting CSAM”, both of which the bill does nothing of the sort. In fact it makes fighting CSEM even harder.

EARN IT will open the way for politicians to define the category of “pornography" as they — or the lobbies that fund them — please. The same way that right-wing groups have successfully banned books about race and LGBT, are banning trans people from existing, all under the guise of protecting children from "grooming and exploitation", is how they will successfully censor the internet.

As long as state legislatures can tie in "fighting CSAM" to their bullshit laws, they can use EARN IT to censor and surveill whatever they want.

This is already a nightmare enough. But the bill also DESTROYS ENCRYPTION, you know, the thing protecting literally anyone or any govt entity from going into your private messages and emails and anything on your devices and spying on you.

This bill is going to finish what FOSTA/SESTA started. And that should terrify you.

Senator Blumenthal (Same guy who said ‘Facebook should ban finsta’) pushed this bill all of 2020, literally every activist (There were more than half a million signatures on this site opposing this act!) pushed hard to stop this bill. Now he brings it back, doesn’t show the text of the bill until hours later, and it’s WORSE. Instead of fixing literally anything in the bill that might actually protect kids online, Bluemnthal is hoping to fast track this and shove it through, hoping to get little media attention other than propaganda of “protecting kids” to support this shitty legislation that will harm kids. Blumental doesn't care about protecting anyone, and only wants his name in headlines.

It will make CSAM much much worse.

One of the many reasons this bill is so dangerous: It totally misunderstands how Section 230 works, and in doing so (as with FOSTA) it is likely to make the very real problem of CSAM worse, not better. Section 230 gives companies the flexibility to try different approaches to dealing with various content moderation challenges. It allows for greater and greater experimentation and adjustments as they learn what works – without fear of liability for any “failure.” Removing Section 230 protections does the opposite. It says if you do anything, you may face crippling legal liability. This actually makes companies less willing to do anything that involves trying to seek out, take down, and report CSAM because of the greatly increased liability that comes with admitting that there is CSAM on your platform to search for and deal with. This liability would allow anyone for any reason to sue any platform they want, suing smaller ones out of existence. Look at what is happening right now with book bans across the nation with far right groups. This is going to happen to the internet if this bill passes.

(Remember, the state department released a report in December 2021 recommending that the government crack down on “obscenity” as hard the Reagan Administration did. If this bill passes, it could easily go way beyond shit red states are currently trying. It is a goldmine for the fascist right that is currently in the middle of banning every book that talks about race and sexuality across the US.)

The reason these bills keep showing up is because there is this false lie spread by organizations like NCOSE that platforms do nothing about CSEM online. However, platforms are already liable for child sexual exploitation under federal law. Tech companies sent more than 45 million+ instances of CSAM to the DOJ in 2019 alone, most of which they declined to investigate. This shows that platforms are actually doing everything in their power already to stop CSEM by following already existing laws. The Earn It Act includes zero resources for proven investigation or prevention programs. If Senator Bluementhal actually cared about protecting youth, why wouldn’t he include anything to actually protect them in his shitty horrible bill? EARN IT is actually likely to make prosecuting child molesters more difficult since evidence collected this way likely violates the Fourth Amendment and would be inadmissible in court.

I don’t know why so many Senators are eager to cosponsor the “make child pornography worse” bill, but here we are.

HOW TO FIGHT BACK

EARN IT Act was introduced just two weeks ago and is already being fast-tracked. It will be marked up the week of May 1st and head to the Senate floor immediately after. If there is no loud and consistent opposition, it will be law by JUNE! Most bills never go to markup, so this means they are putting pressure to move this through. There are already 20 co-sponsors, a fifth of the entire Senate. This is an uphill battle and it is very much all hands on deck.

CALL YOUR REPRESENTATIVES.

This website takes you to your Senator / House members contact info. EMAIL, MESSAGE, SEND LETTERS, CALL CALL CALL CALL CALL. Calling is the BEST way to get a message through. Get your family and friends to send calls too. This is literally the end of free speech online.

(202) 224-3121 connects you to the congressional hotline. Here is a call script if you don't know what to say. Call them every day. Even on the weekends, leaving voicemails are fine.

2. Sign these petitions!

Link to Petition 1

Link to Petition 2

3. SPREAD THE WORD ONLINE

If you have any social media, spread this online. One of the best ways we fought back against this last year was MASSIVE spread online. Tiktok, reddit, twitter, discord, whatever means you have at least mention it. We could see most social media die out by this fall if we don't fight back.

Here is a linktree with more information on this bill including a masterpost of articles, the links to petitions, and the call script.

DISCORD LINK IF YOU WANT TO HELP FIGHT IT

TLDR: The EARN IT Act will lead to online censorship of any and all adult & lgbt content across the entire internet, open the floodgates to mass surveillance the likes which we haven’t seen before, lead to much more CSEM being distributed online, and destroy encryption. Call 202-224-3121 to connect to your house and senate representative and tell them to VOTE NO on this bill that does not protect anyone and harms everyone.

[citricacidprince]

Could you draw that "I trust you" scene with Mabel and Stan but with the relativity AU? (The stan twins and pine twins swap ages au)

OF COURSE, I WILL GLADLY DRAW THEM!!! 💥💥💥

I’m gonna post a long winded thesis about my thoughts on this AU, my take on the AU, and two additional arts under the cut because ooooh boy it’s a tad bit long lol. Also, please please forgive the formatting, I’m writing this all on the fly and it’s extremely disjointed, sorry- 💥

I know there’s the ‘canon’ Relativity AU designs and character dynamics, however I don’t really like them that much ngl. I feel like it mostly just ends up with ‘Mabel and Dipper get switched with Stan and Ford with no nuances once so ever’ and that BLOWS!!! There’s so much potential there and no one is playing with it!! YOU GUYS DON’T EVEN HAVE MABEL PRETENDING TO BE DIPPER, WHATS THE POINT????

Not only that but I feel like making Dipper and Mabel’s dynamic just Ford and Stan’s when they’re adults is a HUGE simplification of their characters. Like, Mabel and Dipper fight, but they don’t fight like Stan and Ford, they’re not as hard headed and stubborn. Mabel would commit some crimes yes, but I don’t believe she would get into some of the heavy shit Stan had in his past. I refuse to believe Mr. Dipper ‘Undiagnosed Anxiety Disorder’ Pines would fall for Bill’s flattery as easily as Ford did.

The Pines Twins are very different from the Mystery Twins. Mabel and Dipper didn’t grow up with a father constantly comparing the two and pinning them against each other, outright telling one kid they’ll always be a failure while the other is going to have the burden of making their family rich. They never had that tension. They wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around eachother as adults.

I know that makes the concept sound boring to some, ‘Where’s the fun in the AU if you take away the sibling fighting’. You cowards, you can still have it, young Stan and Ford are RIGHT THERE. During the second half of the show when Dipper comes back through the portal, instead of having the older set of twins, something that doesn’t male sense with their characters, have a building tension that’s going to explode soon and keep it between Stan and Ford, don’t take it away from them. If anything, I think taking away the resentment and anger growing between the two and giving it to Mabel and Dipped is a butchering of all the characters.

Sure that means some of the episodes would have to change or be completely erased, but that’s fine!!! Make up some new ones!!! Get silly with it!!!

Mabel and Dipper talk about feelings, Stan and Ford don’t. Mabel and Dipper can’t stay mad at each other, Stan and Ford will try and stay mad for decades because being angry is easier than being upset.

In my idea of this AU that fight at the end of Weirdmageddon HAS to be between Stan and Ford, and Stan HAS to still be the one getting his memories erased.

💥 Post Not-What-He-Seems Relativity AU Rambling Below 💥

Dipper is a paranoid man, fool him once you’re never going to fool him again. He would never in a million years ever work with Bill again. Ford however is an extremely lonely child, both he and his brother are desperate for any type of positive attention. I think Bill would see him as a potential protege, especially since Ford is a ‘freak’ like he is and the kid is extremely smart for his age. He’s malleable, Bill probably thinks he could shape him uo to be the perfect lackey.

Ford, being the lonely kid he is, probably does fall for the praise initially. He craves attention and Bill pushes all the right buttons and says all the right words, tries and gains his trust even if time has proven again and again that he shouldn’t be trusting the demon.

The tension between the Stan Twins would grow after Grunkle Dipper comes back because Ford is upset that Stan didn’t listen to him (even if it was for the best that he did) and that Grunkle Dipper forgave Graunty Mabel so easily because if Ford was in those shoes he wouldn’t have. It grows more and more as Ford becomes distant and Stan tries to connect with his brother to no avail. Which, of course, comes to a boiling point when Ford says he’s going to stay in Gravity Falls and learn under Grunkle Dipper. Stan is rightfully upset. He can’t go back to New Jersey by himself. It’s always just been the two of them, he needed Ford, he couldn’t handle school or their father by himself. He can’t be alone.

Unlike Mabel who just wanted one more day of summer, Stan wishes that he wouldn’t be alone, which indirectly causes Weirdmaggendon.

Stan’s prison bubble would probably be a fake New Jersey-esc town full of a bunch of little Stans running around. Town O’ Stan. A place where no Stan is left behind.

Ford says some nice words to Stan there to get him outta there but there is still this intense tension between the two.

During the Cipher Wheel Ford is the one who tackles Stan. The two fight, whining out hurtful words neither of them mean and only stop when Bill shows up and captures them. Graunty Mabel and Grunkle Dipper run off and distract Cipher in hopes that they can keep the attention on themselves long enough that their great nephews could come up with a plan to escape.

The younger twins don’t find a way out and instead, finally, have an actual talk about their feelings, one that definitely ends up in tears as the two talk about the pressure that’s put on them or how worthless they feel. After that the boys get a rush of determination to escape when Stanley has a plan. Ford immediately hates the plan but Stan insists that they do it, in his own words, ‘Let me prove I can do something right for once.’

When Bill comes back and threatens to kill either Mabel or Dipper just for the hell of it, Ford calls out that he’d like to make a deal.

He wants to work with Bill, let Bill into his mind willingly. Bill immediately jumps on that offer. Ford is a promising young kid, perfect henchmaniac potential, not to mention it would absolutely devastate Dipper is his great nephew willingly turned to Bill’s side.

He goes into Ford’s head, revealing Stanley just in time to reveal that he was trapped, panicking as he was erased with a swift left-hook along with a kid who was happy to prove he was good for something after all.

Everyone was devastated after Weirdmaggedon of course, a child had his mind completely wiped. Stanford took it the worst, he just managed to finally break down those words that others built in his head, that he was too good for Stanley or that he didn’t need a knucklehead like him dumbing down his brain, and now his brother was gone. Just like that.

We all know what happens after this, Stan gets his memory back, everyone celebrates and the Stan twins are sent home, promising each other that they’ll never let anyone try and tear them apart ever again. Dipper and Mabel stay at the shack, after all, all they could ever want is there, where else could they possibly go?

Sorry this was… extremely rambly and long, I am extremely tired and can’t think straight I have a bunch more ideas and concepts so if anyone’s desperately wants to hear them just ask I guess, sorry you read this dumb of ass essay haha 💥

[augustinewrites]

“do you not love me anymore?”

satoru’s (self-proclaimed) adorable pout is rendered ineffective when you refuse to look up from your work, typing away on your computer as his world absolutely crumbles.

“are you a worm?” you ask, wholly uninterested in his theatrics.

“no.”

“then of course i still love you.”

“then what the heck is this?!”

sighing, you finally lift your gaze to see your wallet open and laid out in front of you. “that’s what this is about?”

“you took my favourite picture of us out for megumi’s school photo!”

“that was not your favourite picture of us,” you argue. “you keep that in a locked folder on your phone.” 

(it’s your fault that he thinks of that photo now, having to utilise mental skills he’d learned during unnecessarily sexy sparring lessons in high school to will away the beginning of stiffness in his pants) 

“that’s not the point,” he says calmly, tapping a finger over megumi’s glaring face. “the point is that i’m losing top-billing in my girlfriend’s wallet to a snot-nosed brat with a crush.” 

“really? you’re competing with a seven year old?” 

“it’s not competing if i’m losing!”

“it’s puppy love, satoru,” you laugh, closing your wallet before he can see that his card is inside. “i don’t think he’s ever had someone - that wasn’t his sister - fussing over him.”

“no, he definitely has a crush on you,” your boyfriend insist, draping himself over your lap quite dramatically. “can we still disown him if the adoption papers haven’t gone through yet?”

“no one is disowning anyone,” you tell him, gently pushing back his bangs to plant a kiss on his forehead. “you’ll just have to learn to live with the competition.”

_____

you’re halfway through the show you’re watching when the front door swings open and satoru tumbles inside. “honey, i’m home! nanami almost killed me at the gym.”

“hey, there’s lunch in the fridge,” you call, eyes glued to the television. 

satoru, predictably, is unsatisfied with this. he grabs the mug that you’re holding and sets it on the coffee table, wrapping you in a sweaty hug and peppering your face with kisses. 

“let me love you!” he whines, his hair tickling your nose as he nuzzle his face into your neck.

“you can love me after you take a shower, cause you stink.” your tone is stern, but you can’t seem to fight the smile that grows on your face as he hugs you tighter. 

“this is all for your benefit,” he argues, finally releasing you just to pull the hem of his shirt up. you try to smother the heat rising to your face, but satoru notices, a self satisfied smirk on his lips as he pats his abs. “i’m letting nanami kill me at the gym for you.”

“you’re such a slut,” you mutter, wriggling out of his grasp and over to the opposite end of the couch. satoru relents, staying on his end as he recounts his (apparently) near-death experience at the gym.

it’s a few moments later when megumi saunters into the living room.

“megumi! come sit with me!”

the boy’s nose immediately wrinkles. “you stink.”

his full-force pout returns. “i do not!”

“do too.”

“do not—”

“do too,” megumi scoffs, plopping down next to you and resting his head against your arm. 

“so you’re gonna let him snuggle with you but not me? i’m tired and sore and—”

“and sweaty,” you finish. “go take a shower.” 

he glances down at the kid glued to your side, brows raised as he mouths, crush. 

you roll your eyes, thinking it wise to not engage in any banter in front of megumi. 

(but as your attention returns to the tv, what you don’t see is megumi’s own little smirk, directed right at satoru.

like father, like son.)

[missarchive]

american jesus ☆

spencer reid

part one part two part three part four

summary; What starts as a seemingly innocent exchange quickly escalates into a game of trust, control, and desire. Spencer offers you more than just financial stability; he gives you attention, adoration, and a connection so intimate it leaves you breathless. From whispered words over the phone to moments of vulnerability, he knows exactly how to unravel you, guiding you to discover sides of yourself you never knew existed.

But with every dollar he deposits into your account and every command that leaves his lips, the boundaries between professionalism and pleasure blur. As you dive deeper into this intoxicating arrangement, you can’t help but wonder: are you just another outlet for his control, or has this brilliant man fallen for you just as deeply as you’ve begun to fall for him?

cw; +18 minors dni, masturbation (f), hints at masturbation (m), nudes, spencer calls reader "little girl" once, phone sex, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, inexperienced reader, pleasure dom spencer, fingering, dirty talk

an; this is the first part in my new series! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. P.s. this is written with jesus reid in mind <3 xoxo

The idea had been absurd from the beginning—a drunken suggestion tossed out during a late-night study break, your friend’s cheeks flushed from the cheap wine you’d both been sipping.

“You should totally do it,” she’d said, her voice a mix of mischief and daring as she scrolled through her phone. “It’s not like you have to… do anything. Just talk. Flirt a little. Get someone to pay for your coffee—or your rent. What’s the harm?”

You’d laughed it off then, brushing aside her suggestion with a half-hearted joke about the kind of people who used those sites. But now, with your landlord’s polite but insistent emails piling up, along with the crushing weight of tuition bills and credit card debt, her words didn’t seem so laughable.

Desperation, you’d learned, had a way of reshaping your boundaries.

So, against every instinct that told you to slam the laptop shut and find another way, you clicked the link she’d jokingly sent that night.

The homepage was a garish blend of pink and gold, its polished glamour doing little to mask the transactional nature of it all. The tagline—"Where connections are made"—was a cruel euphemism for what this really was: a marketplace. A place where companionship, or at least the illusion of it, had a price tag.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time before you finally typed in a username: laceandliterature.

The flood of messages came almost instantly.

@ hungandrich; Hey, beautiful 😘

@ olderseekingyounger; I can show you the world 🌍💎

@ MrNaughty4U; $5k a week to be my princess. No strings attached 💵

It was overwhelming, a cascade of propositions ranging from saccharine to predatory. Some were masked in politeness, others made no effort to conceal their intentions. Your stomach churned as you skimmed through them, the realisation sinking in that you were just another product on a shelf.

And then, just as you were about to close the browser and pretend this had never happened, a new message pinged.

It was short, direct—refreshingly so:

[new chat from: @ thefourthdoctor]

@ thefourthdoctor; Intriguing profile. Shall we talk?

No emojis, no extravagant promises. Just a simple, confident statement.

You hesitated, your heart racing as you clicked on the profile. The picture was blurry, as if taken in haste, but it revealed enough: dark, wavy hair that framed sharp, intelligent eyes behind a pair of glasses. His bio was sparse but intriguing, mentioning books, travel, and a keen interest in "meaningful conversations."

Something about it—about him—felt different. Not just the lack of overtly transactional language, but the quiet assurance in his words.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

This was a bad idea. You knew it was a bad idea. But against your better judgment, you typed out a response.

@ laceandliterature; I suppose that depends on what you want to talk about.

The reply came almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting.

@ thefourthdoctor; Anything but the obvious.

The words were simple, but the subtext was unmistakable: he wasn’t here for what everyone else seemed to want. Or maybe he was just better at hiding it. No sleazy innuendos. No dick pics. No hollow promises of private jets or weekend getaways. Not even the tired clichés of "Hey, gorgeous" or “What’s your body count?”—just a question.

It was startling in its simplicity, almost disarming. And for that exact reason, it made you pause. The absence of the usual vulgarity felt almost like a trick, a trap designed to lure you into a false sense of security. You had learned the hard way to be cautious online. Yet, despite yourself, you couldn’t help but be intrigued.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you glanced at his username again.

A click brought up his profile, your curiosity outweighing your skepticism. The photo was blurry, clearly taken without much thought to lighting or angles. It wasn’t like the polished, professional headshots some of the other profiles sported. Still, you could make out the basics: slightly messy, long curly dark hair, intelligent eyes framed by glasses, and an awkward sort of handsomeness that felt... real.

The bio was brief—almost frustratingly so.

"Bibliophile. Traveler. Interested in meaningful conversations and unconventional connections."

It lacked the arrogance and ostentation of the others you’d scrolled past, the ones who listed their wealth or their penchant for “petite brunettes.” Instead, it was vague, yet oddly specific in its sincerity.

Your chest tightened, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity tugging at you. Was this calculated, or was it simply honest? And why did it feel more dangerous than the others?

Still, you typed.

Your heartbeat quickened as you debated your next move. The smart thing would be to leave it at that, maybe even block him. After all, you weren’t here for emotional entanglements. This was supposed to be transactional—a simple trade: your time and charm for their money and attention. A means to an end.

Yet, against your better judgment, you stayed.

@ laceandliterature; The obvious is easier to avoid than you think, but meaningful conversations? That’s a tall order here.

There was a long pause, long enough that you started to wonder if you’d misjudged him. But then, the reply came:

@ thefourthdoctor; It depends on who you’re talking to.

You stared at the screen, the simplicity of his words sending a ripple of unease through you. There was no bravado, no performance. He was direct, confident, and—most dangerously—intriguing.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you debated what to say next. This was different from the other messages. He wasn’t dangling wealth in front of you like a shiny object or trying to buy your interest with empty promises.

And yet, the very absence of those things made you wonder what he wanted. Because he wanted something—everyone on this site did. That was the nature of it.

@ laceandliterature; Okay. What do you want to talk about?

His reply was immediate, as if he’d been waiting for you to ask:

@ thefourthdoctor; Tell me what brought you here.

The question hit like a dart, sharp and precise. Your stomach tightened as you read it again, the blunt honesty of it stripping away the thin veil you’d been hiding behind. No one had asked that before—not like this.

Most of the messages you’d received had operated on unspoken rules: you pretend this is normal, and they pretend they’re just being generous. But this man wasn’t pretending. He was asking you to be real in a space built on pretense.

And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you felt compelled to answer.

Your fingers trembled slightly over the keyboard. What could you even say? The truth? That you were drowning under the weight of your bills, your student loans, your own stubborn pride? That desperation had led you here, to a website where relationships had price tags and intimacy was commodified?

But what stopped you wasn’t the shame of your situation—it was him. The way he asked, as if the answer mattered. As if you mattered.

The tension in your chest twisted tighter as you typed.

@ laceandliterature; The same thing that brings everyone here, I suppose. Necessity.

You hit send before you could overthink it, before you could soften the edges of the truth. The reply came quickly.

@ thefourthdoctor; Necessity takes many forms. Which is yours?

You stared at the screen, his words pulling something loose inside you. This wasn’t idle curiosity. He was pushing you, peeling back the layers you hadn’t even realized you were wearing. And damn it, you wanted to push back.

@ laceandliterature; Does it matter?

You wrote, the edge in your tone slipping into the words.

The pause before his reply was longer this time, long enough to make you wonder if you’d misstepped. But then it came, and it was nothing you expected.

@ thefourthdoctor; It matters if you want it to.

The simplicity of his words sent a jolt through you, more potent than any overture of wealth or charm could have been. There was no condescension, no judgment. Just quiet, unnerving confidence.

You leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. These conversations were supposed to be easy—shallow exchanges where you could slip into a version of yourself that didn’t feel the weight of real life pressing down on her. But with him, there was no slipping into anything.

He wasn’t letting you.

@ laceandliterature; What about you?

You typed, throwing the question back at him, daring him to offer you the same vulnerability he was asking of you. 

@ laceandliterature; Why are you here?

His reply was immediate, almost as if he’d been expecting the question.

@ thefourthdoctor; Curiosity.

You frowned at the screen, the single word both frustrating and enticing. It was vague but deliberate, leaving just enough room for interpretation to keep you hooked.

@ laceandliterature; Curiosity about what? 

The next message sent a shiver through you:

@ thefourthdoctor; You.

Your breath caught. One word, and yet it felt like he’d reached through the screen, pulling you closer, tethering you to him in a way that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

You hesitated, the heat rising in your cheeks as you considered how to respond. This wasn’t the typical transactional banter you’d anticipated when you signed up. He wasn’t offering money or promises of luxury. He wasn’t trying to seduce you with extravagance. Instead, he was drawing you in with something far more dangerous: attention.

And the worst part? You wanted it.

@ laceandliterature; Careful. That kind of curiosity can be expensive.

This time, the pause felt deliberate, a beat of silence meant to let your words settle. When his reply came, it was sharp, confident, and devastatingly effective.

@ thefourthdoctor; I don’t mind paying for what I value. Isn’t that what this is about, anyway?

Your breath hitched, the implications of his words hitting you like a shockwave. This wasn’t flirtation—it was a proposition. But not the kind you’d grown to expect on this site. He wasn’t offering to buy your time or affection outright; he was telling you that he saw something in you worth pursuing.

And that made him infinitely more dangerous.

Your heart raced as you stared at the screen, torn between the instinct to pull back and the magnetic pull of his presence. This wasn’t just about money anymore. This was about control, power, the careful dance of who would give and who would take.

You sat frozen, his last message glowing on the screen like an unspoken dare.

"I don’t mind paying for what I value."

The words reverberated through you, sharp and calculated, leaving no room for misinterpretation. This wasn’t a line meant to charm or impress. It was a statement of intent—a declaration of control.

And it was working.

Your chest tightened as you typed, your fingers moving before your brain caught up.

@ laceandliterature; Value is subjective.

The moment you hit send, you regretted it. It felt flippant, like you were trying to undermine the weight of his words. But maybe that was exactly what you needed to do—to wrest back some semblance of control in this conversation that was starting to feel far too intimate.

The reply came after a pause that felt excruciatingly long:

@ thefourthdoctor; It is. But I’m a man who knows how to discern.

Your throat tightened, the confidence in his words striking a chord deep within you. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was setting the rules. And despite yourself, you found it maddeningly enticing.

@ laceandliterature; Discernment is rare here. 

You replied, leaning into the dynamic, testing the boundaries of this strange connection.

His next message came faster this time, as if he’d been waiting for you to lean in:

@ thefourthdoctor; So is honesty. Tell me, how rare are you?

Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing as you stared at the question. It wasn’t what you expected—not here, not from someone you’d never met. And yet, it was the kind of question you couldn’t dismiss with a coy quip or vague answer.

@ laceandliterature; Enough to know my worth. 

You typed, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your response.

His reply came swiftly.

@ thefourthdoctor; Good. Then you’ll understand why I won’t insult you with empty offers. Tell me what you want.

Your pulse quickened. There it was—the shift you’d been waiting for, the moment the conversation turned from hypothetical to concrete. But this was different from the others. He wasn’t throwing numbers at you, wasn’t dangling luxury in front of you like bait. He was putting the power in your hands, asking you to decide the terms.

It was intoxicating. And terrifying.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. What did you want? Money was the obvious answer—wasn’t it? That was why you were here in the first place. But now, with him, it didn’t feel so simple.

@ laceandliterature; That depends… What are you offering?

The pause before his response was agonizing, each second stretching longer than the last. And then it came:

@ thefourthdoctor; Time. Money. Attention. Answers, if you’re brave enough to ask the right questions.

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy cloak. He wasn’t offering material things, at least not yet. He was offering something far more valuable—and far more dangerous.

You swallowed hard, your palms damp as you considered your next move. He’d shifted the power dynamic yet again, pulling you deeper into a game you weren’t entirely sure you knew how to play.

@ laceandliterature; And what do you want in return?

The question leaving you more vulnerable than you cared to admit.

His response was immediate, his words a quiet, commanding echo in your mind:

@ thefourthdoctor; Exactly what you’re willing to give me.

The simplicity of his answer hit you harder than any declaration of wealth or desire could have. It wasn’t just about money or power or control—it was about you. Your choices, your limits, your willingness to engage in this careful, intoxicating dance.

And that realisation sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, you stared at the screen, your pulse thrumming in your ears. You could walk away now. Close the laptop, block his profile, and pretend this never happened. But the truth was, you didn’t want to.

Because for the first time since you’d joined this site, you felt seen. Not as an object, not as a commodity, but as a person.

His words clung to you, each syllable daring you to define what you were prepared to offer. He was turning the mirror back on you, forcing you to confront not just the situation but yourself.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t playing by the rules you expected, and that made him unpredictable. Dangerous. But it also made him irresistible.

@ laceandliterature; That’s a clever way of saying nothing. Ambiguity suits you.

The reply came quickly, almost as if he’d anticipated your deflection.

@ thefourthdoctor; Clarity can be earned, if you’re willing to play the game.

Your breath hitched. There it was again—that quiet, assured confidence that pulled you in despite every warning bell ringing in your head. He wasn’t offering platitudes or empty promises. He was offering a challenge, one that was as maddening as it was magnetic.

@ laceandliterature; And what game is that? 

The pause before his answer felt deliberate, a calculated silence that only heightened your anticipation. When his message finally appeared, it sent a shiver through you:

@ laceandliterature; The one we’re already playing. You just haven’t realised it yet.

Your pulse quickened, your palms damp as you stared at the screen. He was toying with you, but not in the way you’d experienced before. This wasn’t about cheap thrills or transparent power plays. This was about control—subtle, seductive, and entirely in his hands.

@ laceandliterature; I don’t recall agreeing to any rules. 

The sharpness of your words masking the unease curling in your chest.

His reply was swift, the confidence in his words cutting through the haze of your thoughts:

@ thefourthdoctor; You didn’t have to. You agreed the moment you responded.

The audacity of his statement left you momentarily breathless. He was right, of course, and that infuriated you. But it also thrilled you in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

@ laceandliterature; You’re awfully sure of yourself

You shot back, your fingers trembling as you hit send. The response came almost immediately.

@ thefourthdoctor; Confidence is the privilege of knowing what you want. Do you?

Your chest tightened, his words striking a nerve you hadn’t expected. What did you want? It was supposed to be simple—a means to an end, a way to solve your financial problems without complicating your life. But now, with him, it felt far from simple.

You hesitated, your mind racing. This wasn’t like the other conversations you’d had on this site. He wasn’t just offering money or gifts; he was offering an exchange of a different kind. One that blurred the lines between power and vulnerability, control and surrender.

@ laceandliterature; I think you already know the answer.

@ thefourthdoctor; Good. Then we’re getting somewhere.

You exhaled sharply, the tension in your chest both exhilarating and suffocating. He had you cornered, and he knew it. But the worst part? You didn’t want to leave.

@ laceandliterature; And where exactly is that? 

The question both a challenge and a plea. His response sent a chill down your spine.

@ thefourthdoctor; Where we figure out if you’re ready to trust me.

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and inescapable. Trust. It was a loaded word, especially here, in a space where every interaction felt transactional. But with him, it didn’t feel like a demand—it felt like an invitation.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling as you typed your response:

@ laceandliterature; Trust is earned, Doctor. How do you plan on earning mine?

The pause before his reply was excruciating, every second stretching longer than the last. And then, finally, his message appeared. 

@ thefourthdoctor; Patience. Honesty. And just enough mystery to keep you coming back.

Your breath caught, the sheer confidence of his words leaving you momentarily speechless. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was rewriting the rules, pulling you deeper into his orbit with every word.

And despite the warning bells ringing in your head, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more.

@ laceandliterature; Then I suppose we’ll see how well you play. 

@ thefourthdoctor; We already are.

The message lingered on the screen, a challenge and a promise all at once. And as you stared at it, your heart racing and your mind spinning, one thing became clear:

Here’s the continuation, intensifying the emotional and psychological stakes, as well as the power dynamics:

You could feel it in the way your heart raced, in the way your mind struggled to pull together coherent thoughts. It was maddening. Dangerous. And yet, some part of you craved the thrill of it.

@ laceandliterature; What makes you so sure of that?

@ thefourthdoctor; Because you’re still here.

Your lips parted in a soft exhale, the truth in his words sending a shiver down your spine. He was right—you were still here, still engaged, still drawn to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

@ laceandliterature; Maybe I’m just curious.

His response was immediate, his confidence unshaken.

@ thefourthdoctor; Curiosity is the first step to surrender. And you’re closer than you think.

Your pulse quickened, his words striking a nerve you hadn’t realized was exposed. Surrender. The word hung there, heavy and intoxicating, pulling you deeper into his web.

@ laceandliterature; Surrender isn’t in my vocabulary. 

The sharpness of your reply more for your benefit than his.

@ thefourthdoctor; That’s because no one’s ever taught you how to do it properly.

The breath left your lungs in a quiet rush, your body betraying you with a thrill that raced down your spine. He wasn’t just confident—he was audacious, pushing boundaries you didn’t even know you had.

@ laceandliterature; And you think you’re the one to teach me?

@ thefourthdoctor; I know I am.

Your throat tightened, his certainty pulling you further into the undertow. There was no pretence with him, no fumbling for the right words to impress or seduce. He spoke with a quiet authority that was impossible to ignore—and even harder to resist.

@ laceandliterature; You’re awfully sure of yourself, Doctor.

You wrote, the name a deliberate choice, a way to remind yourself that he was still just a man on the other side of a screen.

But his next message stripped away any illusion of simplicity.

@ thefourthdoctor; Confidence is earned. You’ll see.

The promise in his words sent your mind reeling, the tension in your chest building with every passing second. He wasn’t offering wealth or gifts or superficial praise. He was offering himself—his attention, his intellect, his dominance—and it was unlike anything you’d ever encountered.

You leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair as you tried to steady your breathing. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was a collision of wills, a power struggle where the stakes felt dangerously personal.

@ laceandliterature; And if I decide to stop playing? 

His reply came slower this time, each word calculated, precise.

@ thefourthdoctor; Then I’ll let you go. But we both know you won’t.

Your breath caught, the quiet confidence in his message leaving you stunned. He wasn’t trying to trap you—he was daring you to walk away. And that made him even more dangerous.

@ laceandliterature; You seem very sure of my choices

@ thefourthdoctor; I’m sure of your curiosity. And that’s enough.

You stared at the screen, your heart pounding, your mind spinning. He was right—you were curious. About him, about this, about where it could lead. And that curiosity was already pulling you deeper, binding you to him in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

And as you sat there, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, one thought echoed in your mind:

You weren’t just playing his game anymore.

You were losing.

His words were a masterstroke, the kind of deliberate confidence that didn’t demand submission but invited it, coaxed it out of you with unsettling precision. He wasn’t forcing you into anything. He didn’t have to.

You were leaning in all on your own.

@ laceandliterature; Curiosity is dangerous. 

The words meant as both a warning and a defense. You weren’t sure if you were telling him or reminding yourself.

His reply came almost instantly, as if he’d anticipated your hesitation.

@ thefourthdoctor; It can be, in the wrong hands. But I think you know by now—I don’t intend to hurt you.

Your chest tightened, the unexpected gentleness in his response catching you off guard. It wasn’t a dismissal of your fears; it was an acknowledgment, a reassurance that felt disarmingly genuine.

@ laceandliterature; What do you intend to do, then? 

The pause before his reply was deliberate, stretching just long enough to heighten the tension without breaking it.

@ thefourthdoctor; Challenge you. Teach you. Protect you, if you let me.

Your breath hitched, his words striking a chord deep within you. The power in his offer wasn’t in its force but in its certainty, its quiet promise of control without cruelty, dominance without destruction.

@ laceandliterature; That’s a tall order.

@ thefourthdoctor; I’ve never been afraid of a challenge.

The simplicity of his answer left you momentarily stunned. He wasn’t boasting, wasn’t trying to impress you. He was stating a fact, one that resonated with an authority you couldn’t ignore.

@ laceandliterature; And what do you get out of this?

@ thefourthdoctor; The pleasure of watching you grow. The satisfaction of knowing you’re safe. And maybe, if you’re willing, a connection worth more than either of us expected.

Your chest tightened, his words threading through the cracks in your defences with startling ease. He wasn’t just offering a transaction; he was offering something far deeper, something that terrified and intrigued you in equal measure.

@ laceandliterature; You make it sound so simple.

@ thefourthdoctor; It can be, if you trust me. But I won’t rush you. This is your choice.

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you. He wasn’t demanding anything from you, wasn’t using manipulation or coercion. He was giving you the space to decide, to choose whether to step into the unknown or retreat to the safety of your walls.

@ laceandliterature; What if I don’t know how to trust someone like you?

@ thefourthdoctor; Then I’ll show you how, baby. Step by step. But only if you’re willing.

The kindness in his words was a stark contrast to the intensity of his presence, a reminder that his control wasn’t about overpowering you—it was about guiding you, supporting you, meeting you where you were and pulling you gently forward.

@ laceandliterature; And if I’m not?

@ thefourthdoctor; Then I’ll let you go. But I don’t think you want me to.

The truth in his words hit you like a jolt, your heart racing as you stared at the screen. He was right—you didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want to retreat into the safety of solitude, not when he was offering something so intoxicatingly rare.

@ laceandliterature; You’re very sure of yourself

@ thefourthdoctor; I’m sure of you. And I’m willing to wait until you are too.

The words lingered on the screen, a challenge and a reassurance all at once. He wasn’t just pulling you into his world—he was offering to walk beside you, to guide you through the uncharted territory of trust and surrender.

And as you stared at his message, your pulse thrumming in your ears, one thing became abundantly clear. You wanted to see where this could lead.

Your fingers trembled as you typed your reply.

@ laceandliterature; I don’t know where this is going.

His response came swiftly, his dominance tempered by kindness:

@ thefourthdoctor; Then let me be the one to show you. One step at a time.

When the evening settled and the quiet of your room enveloped you, you found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone. His last message still lingered there:

"Then let me be the one to show you. One step at a time."

Trust. The word had seemed so monumental when he’d said it, and now it felt even heavier in the quiet intimacy of your room.

Your eyes wandered to the package on your desk, the one that had arrived just days ago. The lingerie you’d bought with the money he’d sent—not something you’d ever imagined doing, much less showing anyone. But his insistence had stayed with you.

"This is for you," he’d written. "Because you deserve to feel special."

You’d laughed at the time, unsure how to process the sincerity in his words. But now, with the soft lace spread out in front of you, you felt the weight of his kindness.

On impulse, you slipped it on, the delicate fabric hugging your body in a way that felt both indulgent and empowering. It wasn’t something you’d ever have bought for yourself, but now, wearing it, you understood the quiet confidence it offered.

You caught your reflection in the mirror, your cheeks flushing as you adjusted the straps. The blush-colored lace was intricate and feminine, the perfect balance of modesty and allure. You hesitated, biting your lip as your phone buzzed in your hand.

Finally, you snapped a photo—nothing overly revealing, just the curve of your body hinted at in the soft light, the lace framing your figure. It felt daring, intimate, and, most of all, you felt like his.

With a shaky breath, you typed a caption for the image. 

@ laceandliterature; Thank you. I thought you should see where your funds are going.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, your heart racing as the message left your screen.

@ thefourthdoctor; You’re so beautiful, my little angel.

Your breath caught at the simplicity of his words. There was no embellishment, no flourish—just a quiet, sincere acknowledgment that made your chest tighten.

Another message followed, slower this time, as if he’d chosen each word carefully.

@ thefourthdoctor; Thank you for trusting me with this. How does it make you feel?

His question sent a ripple of warmth through you. He wasn’t just admiring you; he cared about how you felt, ensuring that this moment wasn’t just for him.

@ laceandliterature; It feels… different. In a good way.

The dots danced on the screen before his next message appeared.

@ thefourthdoctor; Good. That’s exactly how it should feel. You deserve to feel confident and cared for.

You smiled despite yourself, the warmth of his words cutting through the lingering nerves. He had a way of making you feel seen, like every action, every choice you made mattered to him.

@ laceandliterature; I wasn’t sure about sending it, I’ve never done anything like that before.

You admitted, your honesty surprising even you.

@ thefourthdoctor; You don’t need to worry. You’re safe with me. Always.

The reassurance in his words settled something deep inside you. He wasn’t just saying it—he meant it, every word carrying the weight of his sincerity.

Before you could respond, your phone vibrated in your hand, his name lighting up the screen. You hadn't expected him to call so soon, but the smile that spread across your face at the sight of his name felt entirely natural.

Your throat pinched, the air suddenly feeling all too warm. Neither of you had ever initiated a call before, what would he sound like? Deciding to push your nerves to the side, you answer the call.

"I was thinking you might not pick up for a moment there," his voice was low and smooth, a hint of amusement dancing through his words. "I hope you know this isn’t just about the photo. It’s about you. What you need, what you want. If you’re ever unsure, tell me. I’ll always listen."

"I guess I just couldn’t help myself," you teased, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at the memory of how vulnerable you'd felt.

"Yeah? Am I living up to the expectation?" he murmured, and you could hear the laughter in his voice. It wasn’t a mocking sort of amusement, just a quiet acknowledgment that you both knew where this conversation was heading. And that, he hoped, neither one of you would shy away from it.

You laughed, a softness you'd never known you were capable of settling into your chest. There had been something so unexpectedly freeing about the experience—about wearing it made you flush with warmth.

“You could say that…”

“What were you hoping for, when you sent me that photo?”

The thought sent an immediate ache through your body, the suggestion of his touch, of the things he might do to you, sending a wave of desire through you. Your mind raced with images of “him” above you, of his hands pinning your wrists to the bed as he thrust into you. The thought was enough to make you flush, the ache of need between your legs becoming almost unbearable.

"Nothing.” You couldn’t even pretend to feign nonchalance when his words had been so unflinchingly honest, when the promise of what lay ahead was so tantalisingly clear.

"I’ll make it easier for you, then. What are you thinking about right now?" he said bluntly, his words sending a rush of heat through your entire body. There was nothing ambiguous or hesitant about his command; he wanted this, and he expected you to do it. "Tell me what you want, angel. I can give you that."

You twist the fabric hem of the lingerie around your fingers nervously, chewing at the dry skin on the edge of your lips. “I- I don’t know how to do this.” 

He chuckles softly, voice still full of kindness. “Then you don’t have to do anything, let me do all the work, baby.”

You’re quiet for a moment, pondering your options. Before nodding to yourself, deciding you’d have to let go of your nerves for the time being if you wanted this to continue.

“Okay.” You whisper, almost inaudibly. He wouldn’t have been able to hear it if he’d not been paying such close attention.

You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of boldness. "I... I've always had this fantasy of being guided by a man... someone who knows what he wants and can show me new pleasures. I’ve never had that chance before… I was hoping maybe that could be you."

"Oh, angel, you have no idea how much I want to fulfil those desires," He purred. "I can be your guide, your teacher, and your lover all in one."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you felt your core tighten with anticipation. "I... I think I'd like that very much."

"I want you to relax and get comfortable for me, can you do that, baby?. Dim the lights, light a candle, whatever you need to do."

Obeying his instructions, you lit a scented candle, filling the room with a soft, flickering glow and a hint of vanilla. You kicked off your shoes and slid under the covers, your heart pounding in your chest.

"That's it, sweet girl," He whispered. "Now, I want you to imagine my hands on your body, caressing your skin, exploring every inch of you. Feel my touch, soft and gentle, as I trace your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts."

As you listened, you closed your eyes, visualising his strong, masculine hands on your body. You imagined his fingers brushing against your sensitive nipples, causing them to harden in response. Soft whimpers escaping your lips as you reach up to cup your breasts, mimicking his touch.

"That's right, angel," he encouraged. "Touch yourself for me. Feel how soft you are, how sweet.”

Your fingers obeyed, teasing your nipples, rolling and tugging at the sensitive peaks. You arched your back, pressing your breasts into your palms, and let out a soft cry of pleasure.

"Do you like that, little girl?" He asked, his voice thick with desire. "I wish you could see what you do to me."

"Yes, Doctor," you breathed, your voice heavy with arousal. “It feels so good."

"Now, slide your hand down your stomach, past your navel, and into the heat between your thighs," he instructed, his voice a seductive command. "Feel how wet you are for me, how your body responds to my words."

Your hand trembled as you obeyed, slipping beneath the covers and finding your way to your core. Your fingers brushed against your wet folds, and you gasped at the sensation.

"Oh, god, baby. You're so wet, aren’t you? I can hear it," He growled. "Rub your fingers along your pussy, coat them with your sweetness.”

You did as he said, moaning as your fingers slipped into your tight cunt. You were so wet, so ready, and the sensation of filling yourself sent waves of pleasure through your body. Taking the phone down your body, you hold it in front of your dripping pussy. Your microphone picking up on the sounds as your fingers slip through your folds.

"What a noisy fucking pussy, that's it, that's my girl," he encouraged. "Fuck yourself with your fingers, slowly at first, imagine it's my cock inside you, claiming your tight little cunt."

Your fingers moved in and out, your pace increasing as your pleasure spiralled. You imagined Spencer's thick, hard length filling you, his powerful body driving into yours.

"Yeah, fuck yourself for me," he urged. "Let go, angel girl. Come for me, and let me hear your sweet cries."

Your fingers worked frantically, your body on the brink of ecstasy. His words, his deep, commanding voice, pushed you over the edge. With a cry of release, you climaxed, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you.

"Oh, my sweet girl," he whispered, whispering soft praise over the phone, his voice filled with satisfaction. "That sounded like a lot, hm? You still with me, beautiful?."

"I know that wasn’t easy for you, but it was beautiful to hear." His voice was soft, filled with sincerity. 

You lay there, breathless and sated, your body still humming with pleasure. "Y-yeah, m still here. Thank you."

"You did so good, such a well behaved girl. Check your phone for me, baby. Look what you did to me."

You froze for a moment, your mind struggling to process exactly what you were looking at. And then it registered—the smooth skin of his stomach, the slight curve of his hip. A moment later, you saw it; his cock, flushed pink tip, half-hard and resting against his stomach. A small pool of cum rested near his belly button.. You flushed all over at the thought, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the photo. There was something so undeniably intimate about the image; something that spoke to the fact that he'd been pleasuring himself while thinking of you.

With a final, breathless goodbye, you end the call. Your heart is still racing, your body tingling with the lingering aftershocks of pleasure. His voice still echoes in your ears, warm and commanding, and the weight of his presence seems to fill the room even though he's no longer on the line. You lean back against the soft cushions on your bed, eyes fluttering closed, letting the soft glow of the lamp wash over you.

You let out a slow exhale, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with the buzz still pulsing beneath your skin. There’s something thrilling, intoxicating about the way he’s able to draw you out, make you vulnerable and yet so sure of yourself all at once. But the moment feels almost too surreal, too indulgent, and you try to calm your racing thoughts when a ping breaks through the haze of your afterglow.

You glance down at your phone, blinking at the notification that has just popped up.

$500 has been deposited into your account.

-for my pretty girl

Your breath catches in your throat as your fingers instinctively swipe open the message. You freeze, your eyes scanning the details with a quickness that betrays your curiosity.

"Doctor Reid," it reads, alongside the substantial amount.

For a moment, time seems to stop, your gaze fixed on the screen as your pulse quickens once more. The money sits there, cool and impersonal, yet its presence is anything but. It’s a gesture—one that feels undeniably generous, but also loaded with unspoken meaning. This isn’t just a transaction. This is him, and everything that came with the promise of his control, his attention, his care.

You’ve known that he was willing to give, but this—this feels different. The amount is so much more than what you’d expected. What did he mean by it? What does he expect now?

You glance at the digits one more time, the weight of his name anchoring the moment. It feels strange to see it. So he was a doctor. 

A tight knot forms in your chest, mixing nerves with something else—something like desire, maybe even gratitude. You bite your lip, unsure how to feel. It was just a phone call, just a moment of shared vulnerability between you. Yet the fact that he’s followed through with this kind of gesture makes everything feel so much more real, so much more complicated.

With a heavy sigh, you set your phone down and run your fingers through your hair, your mind racing as you try to reconcile the thrill of the moment with the heavy responsibility that now feels like it’s creeping in.

At least now you had his name, Doctor Reid.

next part

[pretend-i-don-t-exist]

sy trying to create a pidw au would be so funny

i feel like he'd actually commit to it to spite airplane. at first, it garnered attention bc it was from the peerless cucumber, notorious critic and biggest pidw hater, so ofc they're all curious how pidw would look like in his eyes. it was surprisingly (well not really, considering the tens of paragraphs peerless cucumber wrote during his rants, all of which have immaculate grammar and spelling— bc ofc he can't let anyone find something to nitpick on his review so they're forced to see the point!) well-written and definitely more plot-focused.

majority of the readers disappeared after the first few chapters, mainly because of the lack of smutty scenes, but those that do remain are very engaged. one of them is airplane's burner account, when he needs to separate himself from his airplane persona. he's really, really curious as to what his hater is doing to his work.

he... he actually likes it. it's not really the novel he envisioned when he was first working on pidw, nor does it contain all the elements of his original draft, but it was good. he likes it a lot better than what pidw turned out to be.

airplane spent so much time contemplating and considering before finally saying fuck it, and dms peerless cucumber to see if he can work as a co-author with him and they can rewrite pidw together. he even sends parts of the original draft (what was left of it, anyway) as incentive!

it takes a long week before even peerless cucumber replies, and by then he has written a novella detailing how much better the original draft was and him screaming very informally at why airplane had to cast it aside.

lol i need money bro im broke af and porn sells, airplane answers.

it takes another week before peerless cucumber finally answers. then live with me, his message reads. no rent. i'll pay for whatever food you want. and whatever bills you have. just write a good fucking novel, i swear to god.

airplane thinks it's a joke, until he receives the address. an actual penthouse. in the richest streets of guangzhou. there is also a request to meet up (seeing as they don't actually know each other, and sy's brothers are very intent on not getting him murdered in his sleep) and airplane, after much, much thinking, accepts.

airplane does not really know what to feel when he finally meets and talks to shen yuan— pampered third son of a very wealthy family, with two protective older brothers and an even more protective little sister— and sy is just. well. he's exactly airplane's type. the beautiful, ice prince who apparently has only shown this much emotion around airplane. sy's meimei had told him cheerfully and then threatened to gut him if he so much as steps a foot out of line. airplane is starting to feel like he's just met a mafia family.

shen yuan's family aside, airplane is actually living his best life. he no longer has to worry about money. he lives in a luxurious (gods he has never seen such a large bedroom before wtf) penthouse without needing to pay rent (!!!) and utilities (!!!) and even food (!!!). he can write as much as he wants. this must be what artists felt like when they're taken care of noble families in exchange for their art.

he does... well. he and peerless cucumber are friends now. they work on the rewrite together. airplane keeps finding out many things, like how shen yuan likes his tea with a lot of honey, dislikes milk chocolate, and prefers drawing over writing. he also runs hot during the night, when he sleeps.

how does airplane know that? well. bros gotta do what bros gotta do. it's a good thing they both like to cuddle.

[focusonkayjay]

nothing like us | oneshot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: enemies to lovers, fake dating, corporate employees! jungkook & reader, angst, fluff

Summary: To help you escape the relentless barrage of blind date requests and the unsettling advances of a creep in the office, your arch-nemesis, Jungkook, boldly declares during a company holiday retreat that you’re in a relationship with him—an audacious statement that couldn’t be further from the truth. Stunned and confused, you’re certain that your rivalry with him is far from anything resembling love. Yet, as the retreat progresses, you start to question whether the "fake" in this "fake relationship" is truly present in the room with you.

Word Count: 26k+

Warnings: mature language, mentions of blood, small injury (lmk if i missed something)

playlist for the vibes <3

cher's notes: hello bbies <3 i firstly want to apologize for not posting these past few days. i've been so undeniably busy with uni and work and i totally didn't get the time to proof read before posting. anyways, i hope you like this new oneshot. it's not my best work but parts of it is inspired by "to all the boys i've loved before". (my fav hot tub scene). anyways let me know if you liked this one. muah <3

You take a sip of coffee in the dimly lit office coffee room, letting the rich aroma soothe your nerves. The quiet hum of the vending machine is the only sound accompanying you, a welcome reprieve from the chaos outside.

It’s been one of those days... emails piling up, back-to-back meetings, and a project deadline looming over your head. This is your sanctuary, a brief moment of peace in the hurricane of corporate monotony.

Your job isn’t terrible, though. It’s a typical corporate gig with all the spreadsheets, presentations, polite nods in meetings, and the occasional office drama. Sure, you’d rather be at home binge-watching your favorite series, but hey, bills don’t pay themselves.

As you savor the quiet, your moment of zen is abruptly interrupted. “Y/N-ahhh, there you are! I’ve been looking for you all afternoon!” You almost choke on your coffee at the familiar voice. With a resigned sigh, you turn to face Mrs. Lee.

Mrs. Lee is a middle-aged coworker who’s perpetually cheerful and undoubtedly kind. She’s the type of person who brings in homemade snacks for the whole team and remembers everyone’s birthdays. But she also has a certain... hobby... trying to convince you to go on blind dates.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee.” you greet her politely, though you can already guess what she’s about to say. She clasps her hands together, her smile lighting up the room. “So! Remember how I told you about my nephew who just moved to the city? He’s such a sweet boy, Y/N, and I just know you two would hit it off!”

You suppress a sigh, forcing your features into a polite expression. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Mrs. Lee, but—”

“Oh, don’t say no just yet! He’s a doctor, you know. Very handsome, tall, comes from a good family... he even volunteers at animal shelters in his free time!” she cuts you off, her smile only getting bigger.

You resist the urge to groan. This isn’t the first time she’s done this. In fact, it’s become a bit of a routine. She genuinely believes you’re some sort of eligible bachelorette in desperate need of matchmaking services. No matter how many times you’ve politely declined in the past, she always finds a way to circle back to it.

“Mrs. Lee...” you begin gently. “I really appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m not looking to date anyone right now. Things are just... really busy at work.”

She waves a dismissive hand, undeterred. “Nonsense! You work too hard, Y/N. A nice young man in your life would do wonders for you!” she says. Before you can come up with another excuse, a voice cuts through the room.

“Y/N... Mrs. Lee...” Suho’s head peeks into the coffee room, his usual friendly smile plastered across his face. “Mr. Cho is expecting all of us in the meeting room in five. Says it’s something... important.” he informs.

“Oh, Suho! Thank you, dear!” Mrs. Lee chirps, momentarily distracted. Suho flashes another warm smile before disappearing down the hallway. You silently thank him for the interruption, offering Mrs. Lee a tight-lipped smile as the two of you make your way out of the coffee room. But Mrs. Lee, ever-persistent, continues.

“Y/N, you really shouldn’t let opportunities like this slip by! Life is short, and my nephew really is such a catch—”

She goes on and on and you nod absently, tuning out her words as you walk down the hallway. But then, halfway there, your stomach sinks. Coming from the opposite direction, making his way to the meeting room, is fricking Jeon Jungkook.

Your steps falter for a moment, but you quickly recover, your face already settling into an expression of disdain. Jungkook’s sharp eyes sweep across the hallway, landing on you and Mrs. Lee.

Instantly, you see his jaw tighten, and his gaze flickers with something like annoyance before he rolls his eyes in that infuriatingly dismissive way he always does. You’re quick to mirror his reaction, rolling your eyes as if it’s a reflex.

Jeon Jungkook or let's just call him your biggest arch-nemesis in this corporate jungle.

The two of you joined the company around the same time, and from the very beginning, sparks flew... but not the good kind. Where you had opinions, Jungkook had ego. Where he had solutions, you had questions. You were never the type to back down, and he… well, he hated that.

It became an unspoken rule in the office that if there was a debate in the room, it would almost certainly come down to you and Jungkook.

Everyone at work knew about your rivalry. In fact, it was often a good source of entertainment for them. Colleagues would exchange amused glances during meetings, silently placing bets on who would win the latest argument. There were even whispered jokes about how HR should schedule weekly sparring matches so that both of you could get it out of your systems. But as amusing as it might’ve been for them, it was maddening for you.

It wasn’t that Jungkook was bad at his job... in fact, quite the opposite. There was no denying that the two of you were both extremely good at what you did. You were equally hardworking, equally determined to excel. If anything, that was part of the problem. Two strong personalities in one workplace rarely made for smooth collaboration.

The issue was that you and Jungkook barely saw eye to eye on certain matters. Whether it was strategies, execution, or even the smallest logistical details, there was always some point of contention that spiraled into an argument. It was as if the universe had specifically designed your opinions to clash with his.

And then there was his disgustingly unshakable confidence, the kind that made you want to roll your eyes so far back you could see the back of your mind. He carried himself with an air of smug assurance that made every interaction with him feel like a battle, one he always seemed convinced he was winning.

To make matters worse, he was also ridiculously attractive. It annoyed you to no end that someone who drove you up the wall could also make your stomach twist with just a glance.

His sharp jawline, perfectly styled hair, and those dark, piercing eyes seemed designed to undermine your ability to stay focused. And he knew it. Every smirk, every infuriatingly casual lean against your desk felt like he was taunting you, daring you to admit it.

But any time your thoughts veered into that dangerous territory, he’d open his mouth, say something infuriating, and all your annoyance would come rushing back, as strong as ever.

Of course, the office thrived on your interactions. The two of you were practically a live sitcom, providing endless entertainment for your coworkers. But sometimes, things got a little too intense, and someone would have to step in to calm you guys down.

Yet no amount of intervention could completely quash the fire that burned whenever you and Jungkook were in the same room. It wasn’t just rivalry... it was a war of egos, fueled by equal parts frustration and… something neither of you wanted to name.

The hallway feels smaller as the distance between you closes. Jungkook walks with an air of effortless confidence, his light blue dress shirt crisp and clean, the sleeves rolled up just enough to hint at his tattooed forearms. Over it, he’s wearing a dark blue sweater vest that adds a touch of casual sophistication, paired with black trousers. It’s annoyingly polished for someone who thrives on getting under your skin.

His dark hair is pushed back neatly, save for a single stray strand that rebelliously falls across his forehead. Despite his put-together appearance, the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips is enough to spark irritation.

Mrs. Lee, oblivious to the silent war brewing between you, continues talking about her nephew.

You can’t help but think Jungkook must enjoy this little rivalry of yours. He certainly doesn’t miss an opportunity to challenge you, whether it’s in meetings, brainstorming sessions, or even during team lunches. You’re pretty sure his smugness comes factory-installed.

As you enter the meeting room, the irritation doesn’t subside. The long rectangular table is surrounded by your coworkers, with Mr. Cho seated at the head. You take a seat, only for Jungkook to take the one directly opposite you.

Great. Just great.

He catches your gaze across the table and raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to start something. You don’t take the bait, instead turning your attention to Mr. Cho, whose grin is wider than usual. He clasps his hands together, his eyes sweeping across the room.

“So, I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called this meeting. This isn’t one of our regular check-ins.” he begins, pausing dramatically for effect. “I wanted to let you know about something exciting… our annual company holiday retreat!!!” he beams.

A murmur of enthusiasm ripples through the room. You take a deep breath, the announcement catching you a bit off guard. This will be your first time attending the retreat, and you’re not entirely sure what to expect.

Mr. Cho continues, his excitement palpable. “This year, we’ve decided to take things up a notch. The retreat will be held for a whole week at the Hanok Mountain Lodge, a luxurious resort nestled in the hills. It’s a stunning location with breathtaking views, cozy cabins, and plenty of activities to help us unwind and bond as a team.”

You glance around and notice your coworkers exchanging thrilled looks. Clearly, this retreat is a highlight for many of them. Mr. Cho goes on, describing the itinerary.

“There will be team-building workshops, outdoor activities like hiking and zip-lining, and of course, plenty of time to relax and enjoy the amenities. There’s also hot tubs, a spa, and for those of you who enjoy it, a private bar lounge. And let’s not forget our tradition... the talent show on the last evening!” He claps his hands together, clearly excited.

You shift in your seat, a mix of curiosity and apprehension bubbling within you. A mountain lodge retreat sounded idyllic, but the idea of spending extended time with Jungkook outside the professional setting wasn’t exactly thrilling.

Hoseok, seated beside you, nudges your arm gently. You glance at him, and his heart shaped smile instantly puts you at ease. “It’s your first time, right?” he asks, his tone soft but teasing. “Don’t worry, it’s going to be a lot of fun. They always plan these things really well.” he says. You smile back with a nod, grateful for the reassurance.

As Mr. Cho wraps up his briefing, your initial apprehension begins to fade, replaced by a tentative excitement. A luxurious mountain lodge retreat does sound like a dream... if you ignore the part where Jungkook would also be there.

It’s the day of the retreat, and the soft hues of dawn paint the sky as the company bus idles at the curb, its engine rumbling like a low purr. The bus is alive with chatter, a mix of excitement and sleepiness as everyone settles into their seats. Conversations flow freely, punctuated by laughter and the occasional clink of coffee thermoses.

You’re seated midway down the bus, comfortably beside Hoseok. He’s leaning slightly towards you, gesturing animatedly as he talks about the best hiking trails around the lodge. His voice carries a warmth that puts you at ease, and you find yourself nodding along, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you sip your coffee.

The bus door hisses open, and Jungkook steps in, dressed in a casual, perfect combination of a black hoodie and fitted jeans. His dark hair is slightly tousled, as if he didn’t try but somehow still managed to look effortlessly good. His eyes scan the bus with practiced disinterest, sweeping over rows of coworkers until they suddenly land on you.

You, with your head tilted slightly towards Hoseok, a small laugh escaping as he finishes whatever he's saying. Hoseok's grin is wide as he teases you about something that Jungkook can't hear.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his posture stiffening. The sight is a familiar punch to the gut, a wave of something uncomfortably sharp and consuming. He can’t name it... doesn’t want to name it... but it churns in his stomach like an unwelcome storm. His grip on the strap of his bag tightens.

Every time this happens, he tell himself it's just irritation. After all, it’s not like he cares who you talk to. You’re just his rival, his constant thorn. But deep down, a crack forms in that reasoning, and he’s too stubborn to look any closer.

His gaze flickers away, quick and practiced, like an artist shading over a mistake. He moves down the aisle with a measured stride, ignoring the way his chest feels inexplicably heavy. His long legs carry him past your row, but not before his sharp ears catch the sound of your sweet laugh again. It grates against the knot forming in his chest, pulling tighter with every step.

Jungkook finally drops into a seat two rows behind you, tossing his bag onto the empty seat beside him. He slouches back, his head resting against the cold window. The faint vibrations of the bus barely register as he plugs in his headphones, choosing a random playlist in an effort to drown out his thoughts.

But the music doesn’t help. It doesn’t drown out the sound of your laugh or the way you seemed so at ease with Hoseok. And it certainly doesn’t ease the sting that came with seeing you look at someone else with that kind of attention.

He stares out the window, his reflection faint against the backdrop of the city streets rolling by. He tells himself, whatever he's feeling right now, it’s annoyance, irritation at your loud conversation, frustration at your inability to keep your voice down. But the truth creeps in, unwelcome and undeniable.

It unfortunately isn’t just irritation. It’s something deeper, something he refuses to acknowledge because acknowledging it would mean confronting feelings he’s buried under layers of rivalry and pride.

So he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as if that will banish the image of you and Hoseok from his mind. He’ll bury this feeling just like he does everything else, convincing himself that it doesn’t matter. That you don’t matter.

But even as the bus begins to move, carrying everyone towards the retreat, Jungkook’s thoughts stay rooted in the seat two rows ahead of him. And unfortunately, no amount of distraction can change that.

The sprawling mountain lodge looms ahead, its rustic charm blending seamlessly with the dark green peaks in the distance. You tug your suitcase behind you, the wheels skidding slightly on the cobblestone path leading into the cozy yet grand lobby.

The warm scent of cedarwood and faint spices greets you as you step inside, though it does little to ease the exhaustion weighing on your shoulders.

You sigh, rubbing your neck while Hoseok approaches the reception desk to sort out room assignments. Your gaze roams the space, marveling at the high ceilings adorned with wooden beams and the crackling fire in the massive stone fireplace. A few coworkers are scattered about, chatting in groups or eagerly collecting their keys.

At least everyone gets their own cabin for the retreat, a luxury you hadn’t expected. The thought brings a small sense of relief since you don’t have to worry about sharing space with anyone. You glance at Hoseok, who’s still sorting through paperwork with the receptionist, and shift your weight impatiently.

Suddenly, someone brushes past you, the sharp bump to your shoulder jolting you slightly off balance. You gasp, turning quickly, ready to unleash a tirade, only to freeze when you see who it is.

Jungkook. Of course.

His bag strap hangs loosely off one shoulder, his free hand gripping the handle of his sleek black suitcase. He doesn’t even look at you at first, his gaze fixed ahead, but the unmistakable smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s done. “Watch where you’re going, jerk.” you snap, glaring at him as you adjust your stance.

Finally, he turns to face you, one brow raised in mock amusement. His dark eyes glint mischievously as he takes a step closer, shrinking the space between you. “Me? Watch where I’m going?” he asks, his voice smooth but laced with condescension. “You’re the one standing in the middle of the way, completely zoned out.” he argues.

Your eyes narrow. “Excuse me for existing.” you bite back, crossing your arms. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy stomping around like you own the place, you wouldn’t go around slamming into people.” you add.

Jungkook chuckles, the sound low and irritatingly melodic. “Stomping? Dramatic much?” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel personal. “And for the record, if you can’t handle a little nudge, maybe you should stick to your cozy desk back at the office.” he chuckles.

Your glare sharpens, heat rising to your cheeks. “At least I don’t go out of my way to antagonize people every chance I get.” you retort, your tone matching his for intensity. He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Antagonize? That’s a big word for someone so easily rattled.” he grins.

You’re about to respond, the words teetering on the edge of your tongue, when Hoseok's voice cuts through the tension. “Uh, hey.” he says awkwardly, stepping between the two of you with an uncertain smile as he holds out your keycard. “Here’s your key. Sorry for the wait.” he says.

Jungkook steps back, his smirk faltering slightly as his gaze flickers briefly to Hoseok, then back to you. “Thanks, Hobi.” you say, your voice a little too tight as you grab the keycard from his outstretched hand.

He ignores the little pang in his chest and his smirk returns, adjusting his suitcase with an almost lazy confidence. “Enjoy your cabin, princess.” he quips, his tone laced with sarcasm and just enough smugness to make your blood boil. Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and strides off towards the cabins, his retreating figure exuding infuriating nonchalance.

You glare at his back, gripping your keycard so tightly it threatens to snap. “Ugh, I hate him.” you mutter under your breath, your frustration spilling out in a huff.

Hoseok, who’s been quietly observing the exchange, lets out a soft chuckle. “You sure about that?” he teases lightly, reaching down to grab your suitcase. “He seems to get under your skin pretty easily.” he says.

You narrow your eyes at him but don’t bother responding, knowing Hoseok’s teasing will only get worse if you try to deny it. Instead, you let out a long sigh, forcing yourself to focus on the warm, inviting surroundings of the lodge instead of Jungkook’s maddening smirk.

The sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving the mountain lodge bathed in a soft, dusky glow. The campfire in the center of the lawn crackles gently, sending sparks into the chilly night air.

Since it's the first night of the retreat, everyone is gathered around, wrapped in cozy sweaters and thick blankets, their laughter and conversation blending with the soothing sounds of the wilderness as they all try to free the tiredness from the journey.

You hug yourself tightly, relishing the warmth of your oversized sweater as you make your way towards the group. The flickering firelight dances across familiar faces, and your eyes briefly catch on Jungkook, seated off to the side, his attention fixed on his phone. His sharp profile is illuminated by the glow of the screen, but you quickly brush your gaze away, deciding to ignore him entirely.

Your eyes land on Hoseok, who waves you over with an easy smile and you instantly slip into the seat beside him. “Hey.” he greets warmly, his voice soft but welcoming over the crackle of the fire.

You smile back as you settle into the chair, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands. “The bathrooms here are insane.” you say, your tone full of genuine awe. “I had the best shower ever. It felt like I was in a spa.”

Hoseok's smile never falters, as the two of slip into an easy conversation. His warm laughter and encouraging nods draw you in, and eventually, the campfire becomes a hub of chatter as everyone around takes turns to share random stories.

The crackling of the fire accompanies the easy flow of conversation, casting a cozy glow that makes the group feel like an extended family.

Suho begins, leaning forward with excitement as he recounts how he met his girlfriend at a concert. "I swear, it was like fate." he breathes out, grinning. "I dropped my ticket, and she picked it up. I thought I’d just thank her, but then we ended up talking the entire show." His story gets a round of amused chuckles and giggles.

Mr. Park dives into tales about his grandchildren. "These kids..." he says, shaking his head fondly. "They're way too smart for their own good. Last week, my grandson hacked into my phone to change my ringtone to a dog barking.... at the grocery store." The image sends everyone into peals of laughter.

Ryunjin jumps in next, sharing her cat’s latest antics. "He’s obsessed with his tail." she says, gesturing wildly. "But the problem is, every time he catches it, he gets mad, like he’s offended it’s attached to his body." Her exaggerated impressions of her cat has everyone laughing until their sides hurt.

As people continue talking, from his spot on the other side of the fire, Jungkook sits quietly. He barely pays attention to what his coworkers are saying because his gaze keeps flickering to you and Hoseok. He watches the way your face lights up when you laugh, the way you lean towards Hoseok to whisper something into his ear.

The sight twists something uncomfortably tight in Jungkook’s chest, though he stubbornly pushes the feeling aside. Why do I even care? he thinks, his jaw clenching slightly as he forces his attention back to whatever some random coworker is saying.

Yet, no matter how much he tells himself to look away, his eyes betray him. They keep drifting back to you, catching every smile, every laugh, every shared glance with Hoseok. A faint scowl forms on his face, though he tries to mask it.

As the night wears on, it's your turn to narrate a story as you explain a random incident about a hike you went on, way back in high school. "We were climbing this trail that was way steeper than the brochure let on." you say, gesturing animatedly. "And then my friend thought it’d be a great idea to race to the top. Long story short, we all ended up face-planting in the dirt halfway up."

The group laughs, but before you can continue, Mrs. Lee interjects, her voice cutting through the firelit circle like clockwork. “Y/N, dear...” she says with a conspiratorial grin. “All this talk about hikes makes me wonder… are you planning on taking someone special on one anytime soon?” she wiggles her eyebrows.

You freeze for a moment, the question hanging in the air. Hoseok stifles a chuckle beside you, leaning closer. “Here we go again.” he whispers.

Everyone’s attention turns to you, their curious eyes waiting for your response. You hate being the center of attention in conversations like this, but you manage to muster a polite smile. “I think I’ll be hiking solo for a while, Mrs. Lee.” you reply lightly, hoping to deflect her matchmaking attempts.

But before the conversation can move on, Minhyuk, a coworker from another team... notorious for his unwelcome advances and unwanted flirtatious attempts to pursue you, jumps in.

“Why solo when I’m right here?” he says, his grin annoyingly smug as he leans forward on his seat. “Y/N, you don’t need blind dates or solo adventures when you’ve got someone like me.” he smirks.

The group chuckles, though the reactions are a mix of genuine amusement and secondhand embarrassment. You glance at him, trying to suppress an eye-roll. “Thanks, Minhyuk.” you say, your voice tinged with forced politeness. “But I think I’m good.”

Hoseok smirks beside you. “Wow, that’s… subtle.” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear. The tension starts to build, the awkwardness settling in like an unwanted guest, but before anyone else can say anything, another voice cuts through the conversation, deep and commanding.

“She doesn’t need you, Minhyuk.” Jungkook suddenly says from across the fire. His tone is calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes everyone sit up a little straighter. His gaze locks on Minhyuk, his expression unreadable. “Y/N’s already dating someone.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Heads swivel towards Jungkook, then towards you, expressions ranging from amused to utterly shocked. You blink at him, your brain scrambling to process what he just said. You’re dating someone? And you didn’t even know?

A mix of confusion and frustration floods your thoughts as you watch Jungkook from your seat, utterly bewildered. What the hell is he trying to pull?

Mrs. Lee, of course, is the first to recover. She clasps her hands together, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “Oh, my! Y/N, is this... is this true? So you won’t be hiking solo after all?” she teases, her tone light, but the curiosity in her gaze is anything but subtle.

Her words snap you out of your daze, and your first instinct is to deny it, to clear up the misunderstanding before things spiral even further. But as your lips part, Jungkook speaks again, his voice calm and steady.

“That’s right.” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint smirk. “She’s all set. No blind dates, no solo hikes. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You whip your head towards him, your confusion now tinged with annoyance. His expression is maddeningly composed, as if this is all part of some elaborate plan you’re not privy to. He meets your gaze, and for a fleeting second, you catch a glimmer of something... something almost possessive, before it disappears behind his confident facade.

Hoseok shifts beside you, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Well...” he says under his breath. “This just got interesting.”

You glare at him briefly before turning back to Jungkook, your brain working overtime to decide whether to play along or call him out. All around you, the group buzzes with low murmurs and playful remarks, the campfire’s warm glow doing little to soothe the sudden heat rising to your cheeks.

"Who's the lucky guy?" Suho laughs, his tone light, as a few others nod eagerly, their curiosity piqued. All eyes are on you now, and you’re suddenly aware of how small your seat feels in the circle. You open your mouth to speak, to deny the entire thing and set the record straight, but Jungkook beats you to it. Again.

“I really didn’t expect the news to come out like this.” he says smoothly, his voice calm but carrying just enough emotion to sound sincere. His gaze sweeps over the group before landing back on you. “But we’ve been keeping it quiet for a while now.”

The reaction is immediate. A collective murmur ripples through the circle, voices tinged with shock and curiosity. Some are louder than others, people audibly gasping unable to hide the utter shock of this unexpected news.

You blink rapidly, your brain doing cartwheels trying to keep up with what’s happening. Quiet for a while? What is he even talking about? Your confusion turns to frustration, and you turn to Jungkook, but he’s already leaning back in his seat, wearing an expression so convincingly nonchalant that it makes your blood boil.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Minhyuk’s voice cuts through the murmurs, his tone laced with disbelief and annoyance. “Are you telling me Y/N’s been dating you this whole time?” He gestures vaguely towards Jungkook, his irritation barely concealed.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Jungkook replies, his voice steady and unbothered, as though the entire conversation is beneath him. He leans back casually, his hand resting on the arm of his chair, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Why does that sound so surprising?”

The group collectively reacts, their wide-eyed expressions bouncing between disbelief and shock. And honestly? Fair, because who would believe it. The only form of interaction anyone’s ever witnessed between the two of you has been laced with sharp rivalry, sarcastic comments and deathly glares.

“The joke’s on us.” Mr. Cho interjects suddenly, his tone tinged with playful regret. “We’re the idiots for thinking they hated each other. All this time, these two lovebirds were up to something totally different.” he says as everyone agrees with him.

Your lips part, indignation rushing to the surface as you shake your head. “It’s not what it looks—”

“We just didn’t want to get caught.” Jungkook cuts in smoothly, completely ignoring your protest. His tone is measured, almost too casual, as if he’s rehearsed this. He glances at the group, offering a shrug. “It would’ve made things awkward, you know?”

To your complete and utter disbelief, the crowd buys it. They actually believe the crap he's saying. Heads nod in understanding, murmurs of agreement ripple around the fire. It’s the most ridiculous explanation you’ve ever heard, and yet they’re accepting it like it's the most normal thing ever.

Your scowl deepens as you glare at Jungkook, who doesn’t so much as glance your way. Instead, he’s perfectly composed, acting like this is all just another day in his life. Meanwhile, you’re left fuming, the crowd’s reactions only stoking your frustration.

“If everyone will excuse me... I need to have a word with my... boyfriend.” you finally manage to say, your voice laced with barely concealed irritation. The last word comes out sharper than you intend, carrying just enough edge to earn a chorus of hoots and teasing laughter from the group.

“Ohhh, someone’s in trouble!” Suho calls, while Mrs. Lee clasps her hands over her heart as if this is the most romantic thing she’s ever seen. You can feel the amused gazes burning into your back, but you refuse to look at anyone.

The crowd’s reactions only fuel your annoyance. You rise from your chair, your movements brisk. Jungkook barely has time to react as you stride over to him. Before he can say a single word, you grab his arm and tug him out of his chair with more force than necessary.

Without sparing him a glance, you drag him away from the fire, ignoring the whistles and giggles echoing behind you. Someone, probably Ryunjin, makes a half-joking comment about you two sneaking off to "make up" or something equally ridiculous, but you’re too annoyed to care.

The moment you’re far enough from the group, heading towards the cabins, you whirl around to face Jungkook, still gripping his arm. “What the hell was that?” you shriek, your voice seething with anger. "WE are dating? Really?"

Jungkook chuckles softly, his fingers gently prying your hands from his arm. “Relax, princess.” he says, his voice calm yet dripping with smugness. “I only said that to help you out.”

“Help me out?” you echo, stepping back dramatically with your arms crossed, your face twisting into mock surprise. “Wow, Jungkook, what a saint. Should I start kissing the ground you walk on now, or later?”

He smirks, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “That ass Minhyuk was clearly making you uncomfortable. I figured I’d step in before he turned the bonfire into his personal Y/N fan club.” he shrugs.

You open your mouth to retort but pause, your brows furrowing slightly. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong about Minhyuk being a creep, but still you let out an exasperated groan, your arms flailing. “Oh, please. I could’ve handled him just fine without your big rescue act.”

“Right.” he drawls, leaning lazily against the cabin wall, his hands tucked into his pockets. “Because your plan of glaring daggers at him and clenching your fists was totally working. I mean, nothing screams ‘back off’ like the homicidal vibe you were giving off.”

You glare at him, your lips pressed into a thin line. “And what makes you think I couldn’t have handled it? I literally told him I was good and that I didn't need him.”

“Oh, you did.” he agrees, a playful spark in his eyes. “But then you’d have Mrs. Lee trying to ‘mediate’ or whatever by trying to set you up on another one of her infamous blind dates. Admit it, I just saved you from weeks of awkwardness.”

You blink at him, caught off guard by how easily he brought Mrs. Lee into this. “Wait, so this whole ‘fake boyfriend’ thing was just to dodge her matchmaking?” you question. “Well, partly.” he shrugs, tilting his head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Figured you’d rather deal with me than spend another evening making small talk with some random accountant she thinks is your ‘perfect match.’ You’re welcome.” he grins.

You let out a scoff, crossing your arms again. “Oh, I see. So now you’re my knight in shining armor?” you arch a brow at him. “Finally, you get it.” His smirk grows.

“Shut up.” you snap, unable to stop the look of irritation on your face. “And for the record, I’d much rather deal with Mrs. Lee than this.” you add, gesturing the space between you.

“Really?” His voice takes on a teasing tone, and he steps closer, his gaze locking with yours. You try to ignore the way your heart is hammering in your chest and continue glaring into his eyes. “Then why are you so rattled, huh? Afraid you’ll actually fall for me or something?” he narrows his eyes, his smirk only growing.

You scoff, heat rising to your cheeks, but you refuse to let him see you falter. “Fall for you? In your dreams.” you bite back. “Ouch.” he says, clutching his chest dramatically like you’ve shot an arrow straight through his heart. “And here I thought you’d be grateful. This is how you repay me?”

“Grateful?” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “Jungkook, I don’t think you understand. You just lied to everyone we know and made it sound like we’re madly in love or something.”

“Well…” His grin widens, that playful glint in his eyes sparking something unwelcome in your chest. “It’s not that hard to believe, is it?”

Your jaw drops, and you glare at him, incredulous. “Fuck, there's nothing like you... you are literally unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming.” he quips without missing a beat, his smirk downright infuriating now. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.” He nods as if he’s doing you a massive favor. “Fake boyfriend?” you echo, your voice an octave higher as your frustration bubbles over.

“Do you even hear yourself? Do you understand the gravity of the situation here? Everyone’s going to expect us to get along now. They’re going to expect us to act like a real couple. And with the way we are, they’ll figure out this isn’t real before this trip is even over. Do you realize how humiliating that will be?”

You wave your hands around animatedly as you ramble, the words spilling out in a frantic rush. Jungkook watches you with a maddeningly calm expression, arms crossed over his chest like he’s enjoying the show.

He chuckles again, that infuriatingly relaxed sound that makes you want to pull your hair out. “Oh, come on, Y/n. It’s not that bad. You get to hang out with me, look like the perfect couple, and keep Mrs. Lee and Minhyuk off your back. Sounds like a solid win for you.” he says with that signature cocky grin.

You scoff. "This is ridiculou—"

“And yet...” he interrupts smoothly. “You didn't deny it out there... in front of everyone. Makes me wonder if there’s a tiny part of you that doesn’t mind the idea.”

You open your mouth to retort, but no words come out. The sheer audacity of his statement has stolen your breath. He leans in slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “See?” he murmurs, his voice soft but teasing. “Speechless. I must be onto something.”

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to steady yourself. “You know what, I don’t even care anymore. You're responsible for this mess, so you deal with it.” you mutter, taking a deep breath to try and calm the storm brewing inside you. “I just want to enjoy this whole retreat in peace.”

Jungkook watches you for a moment, his eyes softening just a fraction before he shrugs, as if this entire exchange is just a game. “Fine, fine. Peace it is. But you know...” he adds, his voice teasing but with a hint of something genuine, “It wouldn't hurt to enjoy it a little more with me. You know, since I’m your fake boyfriend and all.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way his words send an unexpected flutter through you. “Don’t push it, Jeon.” you mutter, though the corner of your mouth twitches slightly, betraying the tiniest bit of amusement. You turn on your heel, ready to walk away from this conversation.

“Alright, alright.” he relents with a dramatic sigh, from behind you. “But remember, when you find yourself accidentally falling for me, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” he quips, quickly walking past you. You grumble to yourself as you watch him walk away, approaching the lawn where everyone's seated.

You have no idea what this retreat has in store for you, especially after the insane turn of events on just the first night. Jungkook, of all people, is supposed to be your fake boyfriend in the prying eyes of your coworkers. You're still processing the fact that you’re stuck with this ridiculous situation, and you have no idea how you're going to pull it off.

But, as much as you hate to admit it, there's a tiny part of you that feels... surprisingly... grateful. Grateful that, for once, you don’t have to deal with creeps like Minhyuk or relentless matchmakers like Mrs. Lee.

Sure, dealing with Jungkook might be a headache, but at least he's got this whole "fake boyfriend" thing down, and for the moment, he’s temporarily keeping the pressure off you. You can't help but feel a little bit of relief knowing you won’t have to dodge constant questions about your non-existent love life this entire trip.

And something about this new dynamic, has you questioning everything between the two of you.

Finally, the retreat kicks off the next morning, and the first activity is an early morning hike. The air is crisp and the excitement buzzes in the atmosphere. To make things more interesting, everyone's decided to pair up and whichever team is the first to reach the top, wins a medal and a small trophy.

As you stand at the base, fidgeting with your water bottle, you can’t help but wonder what kind of chaos this day might bring, especially considering the mess you’ve gotten yourself into with Jungkook.

You’re eagerly waiting for Hoseok to arrive, fully prepared to be his hiking partner, when suddenly you hear a voice behind you.

"Waiting for me?" Jungkook’s voice is laced with that familiar smugness, and when you turn, you see him leaning casually against a tree near you, his arms crossed. His signature smirk is in place, as if he knows something you don’t.

You roll your eyes, already feeling the irritation creeping in. "Please, I’m waiting for Hobi." you reply dismissively, trying to avoid his gaze.

Jungkook's heart twists at your words, but he hides it behind a playful mask. "Wouldn't it be weird if you're pairing up with someone other than your... boyfriend?" he says, his voice lowering slightly as he leans in closer. His words hang in the air, and you feel a strange hesitation ripple through you.

You freeze for a moment, realizing the truth in his statement. It would be weird especially considering, the weird situation he had put the both of you in last night.

After yesterday, the idea of pairing up with anyone else, especially with the whole team now thinking you and Jungkook are some love-struck couple, would look suspicious. And if you really want to make this whole fake boyfriend thing work, you’re going to have to keep up the act... at least for the sake of saving face.

Your mind races, weighing your options, but when you glance over at the others, you see the curious glances, the whispers starting to form, and you know you can’t back out now. With a reluctant sigh, you turn back to Jungkook.

"Fine." you say, rolling your eyes for effect, though a small part of you is resigned. "But don't get any weird ideas. This is just for the hike."

Jungkook’s grin widens, and his eyes gleam with that mischievous glint. "Of course, princess. No weird ideas." he teases, but the way he looks at you suggests there’s more to this than just the hike.

As you both walk towards the trail, the weight of the situation hits you. This is it, you're officially stuck with him for the duration of this retreat, whether you like it or not. But as you glance at Jungkook, his confident strides beside you, you realize there might be more to this pairing than just avoiding humiliation.

You quickly shake off any lingering thoughts and turn your focus to the hike ahead. The trail is steep, rocky, and not exactly beginner-friendly, but you’re determined to stay ahead of the pack. Each step is carefully calculated, your legs pushing through the exhaustion as you navigate the uneven terrain.

Jungkook, walking beside you, watches with an almost bemused expression. He notices the fierce concentration on your face, the way your brows furrow ever so slightly as you push yourself harder with each step. You’re not one to give up easily, and it’s kind of impressive.

"You really are something, huh?" he teases, his voice cutting through the wind. "Who knew you'd be so competitive." he asks, like he already doesn't know that about you, considering the heavy competition that always takes place between the two of you back at the office.

You glance at him, rolling your eyes. "I’m not competitive." you huff, focusing on your footing. "I just don’t want to lose, especially to people who think they can beat us."

Jungkook chuckles, but his eyes are still focused on you. “Uh-huh. Sure.” His tone is playful, but there's something a little softer in his gaze as he watches you stride forward, determined and focused.

With each step, your legs begin to burn, but you push through it. The air grows thinner as you make your way up the mountain, and soon, you notice that you and Jungkook have managed to pull ahead of the rest of the group. At some point, it’s just the two of you... no one else even in sight. You can’t help but feel a tiny surge of pride.

Jungkook, though, seems to be taking it all in stride, effortlessly keeping pace with you. “Looks like we’re in the lead.” he says with a grin, clearly enjoying the challenge.

Just as you’re about to reply, the trail gets more rugged. The rocks beneath your feet become looser, the path steeper, and suddenly, you lose your balance. Before you can even react, Jungkook reaches out, steadying you by grabbing your hand.

“Easy there, princess.” he teases, his fingers curling around yours with a casual yet firm grip, as though it’s second nature to him.

You try to ignore the warmth of his hand against yours, but the sensation lingers, a pulse of heat running up your arm. His hand fits perfectly with yours, and for a second, you forget about everything... about the hike, the competition, even the ridiculousness of the situation.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His expression is focused on the path ahead, but there’s a subtle glint in his eyes, something mischievous. He knows how much his touch is affecting you, and you know he’s enjoying it a little too much.

You’re so distracted by everything... his touch, the heat flooding your chest, the odd fluttering in your stomach... that you don’t even see the giant twig lying across the trail until it’s too late. One moment you’re walking, and the next, your foot catches it, sending you sprawling forward. You yelp as your knee slams into the rough ground, the pain sharp and immediate.

Jungkook is quick to react, his hand shooting out to steady you before you can fall further. “Shit!” he exclaims, his voice full of concern. He crouches beside you as you wince, glancing at your scraped knee. Blood begins to seep from the wound, the large scratch standing out against your skin, especially since you’re wearing a pair of biker shorts.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice more worried than you expected. He quickly helps you sit on a nearby rock, crouching in front of you. His eyes flicker to your knee, concern creasing his brows as he inspects the wound. “This is bad.” he murmurs, his tone low as he gently touches your calf to get a better look at the injury.

You feel the warmth of his fingers on your skin, and despite the pain in your knee, something inside you jolts at the tenderness of his touch. Your heart skips a beat, and you have to force yourself to look away.

His fingers are still holding your leg, and the proximity of his body makes everything seem so much more intense than it should be. The sensation of his hand on your calf feels too intimate, too personal, and it makes your pulse race in a way that leaves you breathless.

You shift uncomfortably, trying to pull your leg back a little, though it’s hard to concentrate with him so close. “I’m fine.” you try to brush him off, your voice almost shaky as you speak. “It’s just a scratch.”

He doesn’t seem convinced. His eyes remain fixed on the cut, his expression unreadable for a moment before he sighs and looks up at you. “You sure about that?” he asks, his voice soft but filled with a quiet seriousness. “Because that looks pretty nasty to me.”

You shift again, trying to ignore the way his hand feels on your skin. “I said I’m fine.” you insist, though your voice lacks the usual conviction. The warmth of his hand on your leg is making it hard to focus on anything else.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, as if assessing whether to argue or just let it go. Finally, he pulls his hand away, and you breathe a little easier, though the air between you still feels weird.

Jungkook stands up straight, his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer than necessary. The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken words and a tension that neither of you seem to know how to break. He looks down at your knee again, his eyes softening with concern, but he doesn’t say anything.

He somehow hates seeing you hurt, and something about it bothers him more than he’d like to admit. But he doesn’t know how to express that without sounding too… weird. So, he stays silent, unsure of how to bridge the gap between his thoughts and actions.

You shift uncomfortably, feeling his eyes on you. Your own gaze flickers between him and the ground, avoiding his stare, unsure of what to say next. You both seem so caught in this strange limbo that the sudden sound of footsteps snapping you both out of your trance is almost a relief.

You both turn at the same time, just in time to see Ryunjin and Suho dart past you, laughing and shouting with reckless energy. "Later, losers!" they yell, their voices teasing as they zoom past, not even sparing a glance at you or Jungkook.

Before either of you can react, they’re already a good distance ahead, their teasing echoes fading into the distance. The moment feels absurd, and yet somehow, it breaks the tension that had been hanging between you and Jungkook. You both stay there for a second, staring after the rapidly disappearing pair, trying to process what just happened.

Jungkook lets out a dry laugh, breaking the quiet. “Well, that was... something.” he says. You can't help but chuckle too, the absurdity of it all making you shake your head. "Yeah, something." you reply, your voice light despite the situation.

Jungkook glances at you, a small, almost self-conscious grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Guess we better catch up, huh? Wouldn’t want to lose to them."

Without missing a beat, you push yourself to your feet, ignoring the burning sensation in your knee as if it’s nothing. The adrenaline of the competition quickly wipes away any lingering pain. You’re determined now, not just to make it to the top, but to beat Ryunjin and Suho.

You and Jungkook exchange a brief look, and without saying another word, you both grab each other’s hands and break into a run. The path ahead is rocky, but you’re not paying attention to anything other than the prize... victory. The cold mountain air fills your lungs as your feet pound against the uneven ground, each step propelling you forward.

Jungkook keeps his pace beside you, the sound of his breath in sync with yours as you both push yourselves harder. He offers a teasing grin now and then, his usual cocky demeanor back in full force, but you know he’s just as focused as you are on overtaking the pair ahead.

The climb becomes more intense, the sharp incline testing your endurance, but your legs keep moving. You’re so close to the top now, your eyes on Suho and Ryunjin, who are just a few feet ahead. Your heart races, not just from the physical exertion, but from the competitive energy that’s coursing between you and Jungkook.

For a split second, you almost think you’re going to overtake them. You push yourself harder, your hand gripping Jungkook’s tighter, your determination burning stronger than ever. But just as you reach the final stretch, you see Suho and Ryunjin cross the summit.

“No way !!” you groan, stopping just short of the top. Jungkook slows down next to you, panting, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the victorious pair. “They beat us just by a few seconds.” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration. But as he turns to look at you, the playful glint in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Close, though. We almost had them.” he says.

You stand there for a moment, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, and then glance at him. “Yeah, well. Almost doesn’t count, does it?” you tease, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

Jungkook’s lips twitch upward, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something you can’t quite place. “Guess not.” he replies, but then his gaze softens, just a touch. “But we’ll definitely get them next time.”

The way he says next time... with such ease, almost like a promise, sends a strange feeling through you. It doesn’t sound like just another competition or a simple throwaway line. No, it’s more like a subtle invitation, an unspoken acknowledgment that this could be something to look forward to.

It’s not just the words themselves, but the way he says it, like there will be another chance for the two of you, paired together again, side by side. Like it’s not a one time thing, but the beginning of something that feels more… natural.

You swallow the sudden flutter in your chest, trying to focus on something else... something to push away the warmth spreading in your cheeks. It’s just a hike, just a little competition, you tell yourself, but the thought lingers.

Maybe it’s the rush of the moment, the adrenaline, or maybe it’s something about the way Jungkook looks at you now. Whatever it is, you can’t quite shake the feeling that next time won’t just be about winning.

“Yeah, next time.” you echo, your voice softer now, as if you’re both saying more than just the words.

Hoseok lounges casually on your bed, his head propped up on one arm as he watches you through the mirror as you do your skin care. "Guess you had fun on that hike, huh?" he says, a teasing glint in his eyes as he observes your focused movements.

You roll your eyes, not bothering to respond immediately. The sheet mask on your face makes it difficult to show any expression, but you can't hide the subtle irritation bubbling under the surface. Hoseok, ever the observant one, takes note of your silence and grins to himself, enjoying your discomfort in a way only he could.

“But actually though, how long are you two planning on keeping up this whole fake relationship thing?” he asks, with a casual tilt of his head. His voice is playful, but there's an undertone of genuine curiosity, as if he's waiting for some kind of confession.

You pause, your fingers freezing on the edges of the mask as his words sink in. The question lingers in the air, heavier than it first appeared. You let out a long, exasperated sigh, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. "I honestly don't know." you admit, the frustration evident in your tone. "This whole thing... it’s just such a ridiculous situation to be in. I didn’t even sign up for this, Hobi."

Your shoulders slump slightly as you drop your gaze, feeling the weight of the words you’ve just said. There’s no denying the absurdity of the situation, but even more unsettling is how easily you’ve been feeling ever since that hike got over.

"Honestly..." Hoseok starts, his voice tapering off, a hint of hesitance in his tone. "I just think... he might like you." he says. You snap your head towards him so fast that he bursts into laughter, pointing at your face. "Oh my god, the look! And with that sheet mask? Iconic." He doubles over, clutching his stomach.

"Please." You wave him off, narrowing your eyes even as you feel your cheeks heat beneath the mask. "That can’t be true." you deny, shaking your head, though his words settle in your chest like a pebble dropped into water, rippling outwards.

Hoseok leans forward, his laughter fading into a soft, knowing smile. “Think about it, Y/N.” He swings his legs off the bed and sits up straighter, his expression suddenly more serious. "Why would he randomly step in to ‘save’ you from Minhyuk and Mrs. Lee when none of it has anything to do with him? What’s he getting out of this whole... fake relationship?"

You open your mouth to argue but nothing comes out. His words sit heavy in the room, pressing against thoughts you’ve tried to avoid all day. Hoseok watches you intently, sensing your hesitation but giving you the space to think.

“I mean, according to me...” he continues, his voice steady but gentle. “The only thing he’s gaining... is your company. The opportunity to be around you, to talk to you, to..." He hesitates for a beat, then finishes with a meaningful look. "To get closer to you."

His words hang in the air, a truth you’re not sure you’re ready to face. Your fingers hover over your mask as you stare back at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and the slow, creeping realization that maybe... just maybe, he’s right.

Jungkook slips out of the shower, the warmth of the water still clinging to his skin as he slides into a pair of comfortable pajamas. The exhaustion of the long day settles in, and he collapses onto the bed with a soft sigh.

The cabin feels quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning, and as he stares up at the ceiling, his eyes blink slowly, each blink heavier than the last.

His thoughts begin to wander, as they often do, drifting towards you. He isn’t sure why, but lately, you seem to occupy a bigger space in his mind than he’d like to admit. He wonders what exactly he’s gotten himself into. The whole fake relationship thing, the way it all started... none of it makes sense to him.

But then he remembers the moment it all fell into place. The ridiculousness of it. The heat rising in him when he saw Minhyuk talking to you that way, too comfortable in his space, too persistent with his flirtations.

He didn’t plan to say anything in front of everyone, but something about the whole interaction made him snap. He blurted out the claim about you two dating, and even now, he’s not sure where it came from. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it probably wasn’t just about Minhyuk.

He thinks about the hike today. The way you worked together, the coordination, the unspoken understanding between you both as you made your way up the mountain. The way his stomach churned at the sight of you hurt. The way your hands brushed, then clasped. How your palm felt against his, soft and warm, so natural.

He tries to shake the memory, but it lingers, like the lingering heat of the sun on his skin after a long day. He had to act like it didn’t faze him, like the moment didn’t make his heart race a little faster, but in reality, it was the opposite. His whole body had reacted to the touch, to the proximity.

He lets out a soft groan and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow, willing the thoughts to go away. It’s just a fake relationship, right? So why does it feel like there’s so much more to it than that?

The second day of the retreat arrives with a buzz of excitement, and as everyone gathers in the main hall, Mr. Cho announces the day's event which is supposed to be a Photo Scavenger Hunt. It's another pair activity, and you know exactly who your partner will be. Refusing to team up with your fake boyfriend, Jungkook, would raise too many suspicions and be undeniably awkward.

Pairs are handed a checklist of photo prompts, each designed to challenge creativity and, more importantly, sell the illusion of a couple deeply in love. Age, gender, or real dynamics don’t matter, the goal is clear... convince the world you’re head over heels.

Jungkook snatches the prompt list before you can, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement.

“This is going to be so fun.” he declares, scanning the list. You fold your arms, a skeptical frown settling on your face. “I hate taking pictures.” you admit. “And we have to look like a couple deeply in love? How the hell are we supposed to pull that off?”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t be a baby about it. Let’s show these amateurs what a real couple looks like.” The irony of his statement doesn’t escape you. Pretending to be a real couple while knowing everything between your current dynamic is fake feels like some cosmic joke. It tugs at your heart in a way you don’t want to analyze.

Instead, you shift your focus to the task at hand as Jungkook reads the first prompt aloud. “Take a photo of something adventurous.” he announces, his excitement palpable.

The prompt leads you both to the resort’s outdoor obstacle course, where a rope bridge sways precariously over a shallow creek. “This looks adventurous enough.” Jungkook says, gesturing to the bridge. You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re joking, right? There's no way... I’m setting foot on that thing.” you say shaking your head.

He steps onto the first plank, the bridge creaking under his weight. Turning to you, he extends a hand, his confidence unwavering. “Just trust me.” he grins. You hesitate, glancing at his outstretched hand. Something about the steady way he looks at you makes your heart skip. Against your better judgment, you take his hand and step onto the bridge.

The journey across is a chaotic mix of laughter and shrieks as the bridge sways with every movement. You’re freaking the hell out, but somehow, Jungkook’s firm grip on your hand keeps you grounded. His teasing comments, however, do nothing to help calm your nerves.

Suddenly, the bridge sways a little too much, and you yelp in panic, instinctively inching closer to him and wrapping your arms around his torso, holding on for dear life. You close your eyes, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“Relax!!!” Jungkook laughs, his voice laced with amusement, finding your current state of distress incredibly adorable. “You’re holding onto me like I’m the bridge.”

You bury your face in his chest, the heat of his body overwhelming, and you feel your heart racing in your chest. His laugh sends a jolt through you, but you manage to focus on the safety of his embrace. “Because I don’t trust this death trap!” you snap back, clinging tighter to him. “Don’t you dare let go.”

“Chill, I got you.” he reassures you, but his voice is teasing. “You’re literally holding me. I can’t let go even if I wanted to.” The way his words send a thrill through you catches you off guard, but you can't focus on that now, you're too busy gripping him like a lifeline.

He laughs again, and you feel his arms shift slightly as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Are you seriously taking a picture now?” you ask incredulously. “Gotta capture the terror on your face.” he says, his grin widening. “Besides, you’re hugging me. That’s pretty romantic if you ask me.”

Before you can reply, he angles his phone to fit both of you in the frame, holding it out with a cocky smile before clicking the picture.

As you still tightly clutch onto him, you peek at the phone as he lowers it. You burst into laughter when you see the picture, a chaotic snapshot of your panicked face, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, eyes wide in shock, but with a hint of a smile hidden in the corners. It’s a mess, but somehow cute. “See?” he says with a playful grin. “Adventurous and adorable.”

You and Jungkook continue breezing through prompt after prompt, and to your surprise, you're both working together seamlessly. The tension from earlier has melted away, replaced by an ease you didn't expect.

His teasing jokes, the way he makes goofy comments behind the camera before snapping a picture... it’s all so endearing. And every time he makes you laugh, you feel those familiar butterflies flutter in your chest, something light and genuine that you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in a long time.

As you pose for yet another shot, your eyes meet his, and for a brief moment, the world around you seems to disappear. You're not acting for a game anymore, not pretending for a prize. There's a softness between you now, a connection you hadn't realized you craved until you found it. You laugh, your eyes lighting up in a way that’s completely unguarded, and Jungkook can't help but watch you with a smile that matches your own.

He is somehow completely captivated by this version of you, the one without the sarcastic remarks, the biting humor, and the walls you usually keep up. The way you smile for the pictures, the way you compose yourself with such grace, it’s just too cute. The soft glow in your eyes when you’re not worried about anything, not keeping your distance, is something he’s never seen before. It feels so natural, so easy, and he loves it.

With every click of his camera, Jungkook is slowly realizing how much he enjoys seeing you like this... so at ease, so carefree. Even though the situation started as a fake relationship, he's surprised to find that it feels more real than he ever imagined. It feels... perfect.

There's no tension, no need for the sarcastic quips or the emotional distance you usually keep between you. Instead, it's just easy. He can simply be with you, in this moment, without any pretense. And the more he enjoys this connection, the more he wonders how long he can keep pretending that it isn’t something more.

For a brief moment, as he adjusts the camera, he catches you looking at him... a soft, knowing smile playing on your lips. His heart skips a beat, and for the first time in what feels like forever, his confidence falters. He quickly shakes off the feeling, focusing on the next shot, but the lingering warmth in his chest doesn’t go away. It’s there, quietly growing, and for a second, he wonders if maybe you can feel it too.

Soon enough, you reach the last prompt on the list. "Capture your partner with something beautiful." You read it aloud, and Jungkook's eyes light up like he’s found the perfect solution. He grabs your wrist, pulling you along with him, a determined glint in his eyes. “Follow me.” he says.

Without fully understanding where he’s leading you, you let him tug you along, and before long, you find yourself in the resort’s rose garden. You pause, taking in the breathtaking sight before you.

The garden is sprawling and lush, with rows of perfectly manicured bushes, each adorned with an array of vibrant roses in every imaginable colur… pale pinks, deep reds, and the most delicate whites.

The air is thick with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and butterflies flit from one blossom to the next, completing the serene picture. The sun casts a warm golden light, dappling the garden with soft shadows, making the whole place look like something out of a dream.

Jungkook releases your wrist, stepping back to admire you as you take in the surroundings. “How did you even find this place?” you ask, amused, turning to him with raised eyebrows.

He grins, clearly proud of himself. “I was just exploring early this morning.” he admits, brushing a hand through his hair. His gaze softens as he watches you, and it suddenly hits him... for the first time today, he doesn’t need to pose you, doesn’t need to direct you for a shot. Everything here feels perfect just the way it is. You, in this beautiful setting, naturally glowing and lost in the beauty of it all.

Without warning, Jungkook pulls out his phone and takes the first picture. And then another. And another. He’s capturing you... your expression, the way your eyes linger on the flowers, how the soft breeze plays with your hair. Each click feels more like he’s documenting something sacred, something delicate. You’re unaware of it at first, lost in the moment.

But as you turn, you notice him snapping away, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Your own eyes widen in surprise. “Hey, you didn’t tell me you started clicking pictures!” you say, an involuntary pout forming on your lips.

Jungkook laughs, the sound deep and genuine. "It’s fine." he says, still grinning. "I got the perfect shots."

Your heart skips, your breath catching at the way he looks at you... like you’re the most beautiful thing in this whole garden, and the way his gaze lingers on you makes your chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. There's something so intimate in the way he sees you, something that makes you feel simultaneously vulnerable and cherished.

Now that all the prompts are done, you and Jungkook sit together on the lawn, reviewing the photos on his phone. The sun is beginning to set, casting a soft golden glow over the entire resort, and the air carries a calmness that makes the moment feel almost too perfect.

There’s a small laugh escaping your lips as you scroll past each photo, surprised at how natural you both look. The ones of you and him are the ones that stand out... your smiles feel real, and the carefree joy captured in each shot makes you wonder if, for a fleeting second, the line between pretending and reality might’ve blurred.

As your thumb scrolls past a particularly silly photo of him pulling a goofy face, your eyes linger on the images of yourself. There’s a softness to them... how your eyes shine, how your lips curve into a smile that isn’t forced. You can’t remember the last time you looked so... content.

Your gaze shifts to Jungkook in the rest of the photos, his relaxed posture, his playful grins, and the way he’s effortlessly good-looking in every frame.

But then, Jungkook stops you from scrolling, his finger gently pausing on one of the photos. Your heart stutters when you realize it’s a picture of you that he had taken in the rose garden, the soft wind lifting your hair, your eyes caught on a pink rose, lost in a moment of thought. T

he colors in the picture are so vivid... the soft pink of the rose, the delicate green leaves, and the way the light plays off the petals.

“This one.” Jungkook says quietly, his voice lower than usual. You glance at him, sensing a change in the air, an unspoken weight that hangs between you both. The way he says it almost sounds like a confession, but you’re unsure what it means.

You turn your attention back to the picture, your fingers unconsciously tightening around the phone as your heart begins to race. The photo seems so simple, yet there’s something undeniably intimate about it.

“This one’s my favorite.” he repeats, his eyes not leaving the screen, but you can feel his gaze shift to you, as if waiting for your reaction. The moment seems to stretch, and you swear the temperature of the air is now different.

You clear your throat, trying to steady yourself. “Uh... why?” you ask. Your voice feels small against the sudden heaviness of the moment, the question awkwardly leaving your lips. Your eyes drift to the picture again, but it’s hard to focus with the flutter in your chest.

Jungkook’s gaze softens, a quiet sincerity filling his eyes that makes your stomach do somersaults. “Because it’s... you.”

His words stay in the air, simple yet weighted, like a confession he hadn’t planned on making. And for the briefest moment, everything else falls away… the photos, the game, the fake relationship.

All you can focus on is the way he’s looking at you, the way he said it, as if it meant something deeper than just the photo. It feels like he’s seen something in you, something you haven’t even fully recognized in yourself.

You’re left speechless for a moment, unsure of how to respond. There’s a warmth spreading in your chest, a feeling that seems to fill every space between you and him, and for the first time, the reality of what’s happening between you two feels undeniable.

The third day of the retreat dawns with a calm, unstructured agenda, a welcome contrast to the competitive energy of the past two days. With nothing specific planned, you decide to spend your time with Hoseok, exploring the scenic surroundings and indulging in the retreat’s offerings.

By mid-afternoon, the two of you make your way to the spa for a personal massage. The atmosphere is serene, filled with the soft hum of calming music and the faint aroma of lavender.

As the tension melts away under the skilled hands of the masseuse, your thoughts wander, sifting through the events of the past few days. It’s a rare moment of clarity and introspection, and you allow yourself to simply breathe and reflect.

By the time you’re done, it’s nearly evening. You step out of the spa, still basking in the therapeutic aftereffects. Hoseok is waiting for you outside, leaning casually against a pillar, and his face lights up when he sees you stretching your neck with a satisfied sigh.

“That was amazing, wasn’t it?” he asks with a grin, and you hum in agreement, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. “Totally. I feel like a whole new person.” you reply, rolling your shoulders and relishing the weightlessness in your muscles.

Hoseok chuckles before his tone shifts slightly. “Anyway, I’m gonna go hang out with Suho and Mr. Cho for a bit if you don’t mind.” he says, his voice tinged with a trace of guilt. You shake your head immediately, offering him a reassuring smile. “Of course, Hobi. Don’t worry about me. I’ll just chill near the cabins or take a stroll. Go, have fun!”

His expression softens at your easygoing response. “You sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll see you later.” you say, giving him a small wave as he turns to leave. As you watch Hoseok walk away, a peculiar sense of contentment settles within you, something you can’t quite place but feel nonetheless. The day has unfolded in a way you didn’t anticipate, leaving you more at peace than you expected.

You make your way back to your cabin, eager to change into something more comfortable. Slipping into a soft, flowing dress that cascades gently against your legs, you find it strikes the perfect balance between relaxation and elegance.

Stepping out of your cabin, ready to roam aimlessly through the quiet grounds, you suddenly catch sight of Jungkook approaching from the opposite end of the corridor.

"Well, hello there, girlfriend." he teases, his voice laced with playful sarcasm as a mischievous wink follows. With measured confidence, he closes the distance between you, his smirk never faltering, leaving you to wonder if there's more behind his words than the usual banter.

You feel an involuntary tug at the corners of your mouth, but you quickly mask it by rolling your eyes. "Jeon." you greet him flatly as you close the door behind you. “You look lonely.” Jungkook teases, his tone soft.

You open your mouth to retort, but he beats you to it. “Wanna go for a walk?” His words come out almost too casually, but there’s a spark in his eyes, an invitation you can’t quite ignore.

As you glance around at your coworkers scattered about near by, you realize that declining might raise more suspicion than agreeing. It’s a harmless walk, nothing more, nothing less. And, perhaps you tell yourself, it could make the whole fake relationship thing a little more believable.

But a part of you thinks all these reasonings are just yet another reason to cover up what you're actually feeling. You hesitate for only a moment, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. “Sure.” you answer.

The surprise in Jungkook’s eyes is fleeting, but it’s there... his brows lifting slightly at your unexpected compliance. He quickly masks it with a grin, but there’s something unspoken between you now, a shift in the air that neither of you acknowledges aloud. Without another word, he gestures for you to follow, and you do, your steps in sync as you head out into the cool evening.

As you walk side by side, the air between you feels strangely light, almost serene. Jungkook exhales softly, his voice breaking the silence as if testing the waters. "So, how was your day?" he asks, his tone gentle but curious.

"Good." you respond with a simple, soft smile, but you find yourself wanting to offer more, to bridge the gap between the two of you. "I got a massage at the spa. It was incredible." you add, your smile deepening as the memory lingers. The soothing sensation still radiates from your body, and the thought of it gives you a sense of peace.

Jungkook nods, taking in your words with quiet interest. His gaze briefly shifts to you, and something flickers in his eyes. The evening sun bathes your face in a warm, golden light, the soft rays catching in your hair, making it shimmer ever so slightly in the breeze.

For a second, Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat, his thoughts scattered as a sudden, fleeting realization tugs at him. Have you always been this beautiful? But he quickly suppresses it, trying to act unaffected.

"I played badminton with a few of the guys." he says instead, his voice now carrying a touch of nonchalance, as if dismissing the fleeting moment. He averts his gaze, not quite able to look you in the eye for too long, especially when you're looking so breathtaking.

You hum softly, your attention still lingering on his words, though a small part of your mind is distracted by the strange tension that's begun to build. It’s a new, unfamiliar feeling... this conversation with him, so unexpectedly civil, so effortlessly simple, without the usual sharp edges that have always defined your interactions. It feels almost too easy.

As you walk beside him, your knuckles brush against his ever so lightly, a momentary touch that sends a ripple of electricity up your arm. You pause, your thoughts suddenly a jumble. Should I pull my hand away? you wonder. Should I cross my arms, keep a distance?

But before you can decide, Jungkook's hand finds yours. His fingers slip between yours with an ease that catches you off guard, as though it’s something he’s done a hundred times before.

For a split second, everything around you blurs, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you freeze. The warmth of his touch spreads through you like wildfire, an overwhelming wave of sensations that makes your pulse quicken.

Somehow, this is a million times more different compared to yesterday or the day before. You glance at him, your expression caught somewhere between confusion and something else you can't quite place.

But before you can even open your mouth to question him, Jungkook glances down at your joined hands, his voice a hushed murmur. "Mr. Park and Minhyuk are looking." he says, his words almost inaudible in the quiet evening, yet laden with a sudden urgency.

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of the situation settling over you with sudden clarity. Of course, you think bitterly. It was all part of the act, a simple move to maintain the facade, to avoid suspicion. The thought feels like a cold rush, and you can’t quite understand why it makes your heart sink just a little.

As your mind swirls, Hoseok’s words from the day before yesterday echo in your head, the ones that made you question the dynamics of this entire charade.

Why is Jungkook even doing this? What is he even getting out of it? you wonder. His actions feel so carefully measured, so deliberate, but now, standing beside him, you can’t help but feel like there’s more to it than just playing along for appearances.

And then, as your thoughts tumble over each other, another question surfaces... one you can’t shake. Why is he worried about being caught? You glance at Jungkook, his face turned slightly away, eyes still focused on the path ahead, his hand still holding yours. He hasn’t loosened his grip, but there’s a tension in the way he holds on, as though it’s more than just a practical gesture.

The thought lingers, unanswered, hanging between you like a whispered secret. The more you try to push it away, the more the question claws at you, refusing to be ignored.

As much as you try to convince yourself that this is just a show, a performance, a simple arrangement between two people caught in an absurd situation, a part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s more at play here... something deeper, more complicated, something neither of you are ready to face.

The next day arrives quickly, the sun shining brightly and casting a warm, golden glow over the retreat grounds. You find yourself standing in the doorway of the large kitchen, anticipation bubbling in your chest.

As you wait for the day’s activity to begin, your thoughts drift to Jungkook, and a soft smile graces your lips. The past three days with him have been unexpectedly delightful and you feel like your heart has been beating differently… and the desire to see him, to be near him is gradually increasing minute by minute.

Today, the schedule has a bake-off on the list, a lighthearted yet competitive event. But this time, to your surprise, there's a slight twist... you don’t get to choose your partner.

Instead, Mr. Cho will be picking out the names from a hat, ensuring that everyone interacts with someone new instead of just sticking with familiar faces. Jungkook already gets paired up with Hoseok and a part of you falters, sad that he won’t be your partner for this activity.

The anticipation in the room builds as Mr. Cho starts calling out the names. Your heart skips a beat when you hear your name being paired with none other than Min Yoongi.

Min Yoongi was a fellow coworker from another team and a part of you is thankful it’s him and not some random stranger. You’ve worked with him a few times before, and while you’ve always admired his quiet charm, today you’re both in for an unexpected challenge. Yoongi has always been sweet and approachable, his gummy smile and laid-back nature endearing to everyone around him.

As you walk over to your station, Yoongi stands beside you, looking a little uncertain. He glances at the array of ingredients and sighs. “I’ve never baked before.” he admits, his tone a mix of amusement and apprehension.

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree. “Same here.” you say with a playful grin, turning to face him. “Guess we’re both in for an adventure today.” The words come easily, and something about the situation feels oddly comforting.

Meanwhile, a few counters away, Jungkook stands next to Hoseok. If he wasn’t already irritated by the fact that he was being paired with someone he absolutely cannot stand, considering how Hoseok being your close friend has always annoyed him, the sight of you working so easily with someone else... some other man... has his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

He clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing as you and Yoongi chat easily, the two of you laughing and navigating your baking station with light-hearted banter. Every glance in your direction feels like a reminder that things are not as simple as they should be.

Yoongi’s soft laugh cuts through his thoughts, and Jungkook can’t help but feel a pang of something he refuses to acknowledge. It’s like the universe is conspiring against him today, forcing him to witness you grow closer to someone else, and it makes him feel something he can’t quite place.

The tension in his chest tightens, but he pushes it down, trying to focus on his own station. He can’t let himself get distracted by this, even though the thought of you mingling with another man gnaws at him, just under the surface.

Ignoring the crushing weight in his chest, Jungkook forces himself to focus on the task at hand, settling into a rhythm with Hoseok. Surprisingly, Hoseok proves to be a cooperative partner, and they manage to work efficiently, though their conversations are sparse and purely functional.

Around them, the kitchen hums with energy... clattering bowls, bursts of laughter, and the sound of Mr. Cho’s voice as he strolls by to observe everyone’s progress.

Jungkook tries to keep his head down, but his resolve falters as his gaze drifts, almost involuntarily, to your station. You’re with Yoongi, and the sight is just undeniably painful. The two of you are laughing, the kind of laughter that feels unrestrained and easy, and Jungkook feels something bitter rise in his chest.

His eyes narrow as Yoongi leans closer to you, smirking as he says something that makes you giggle. Then Yoongi suddenly blows a puff of flour in your direction, his grin widening when you squeal and lift your hands in a futile attempt to block it. “Yoongi!” you exclaim, laughing as you swipe the powder off your cheeks.

“You’re welcome.” Yoongi replies smoothly, dusting off his hands with a wink.

Jungkook glares, his grip on the mixing bowl tightening. Look at this grown-ass man making a mess, he thinks bitterly. But he knows it’s not about the flour or the mess, it’s about the easy camaraderie between the two of you, the playful way Yoongi leans into your space as you try to whisk the cream.

“You know...” Yoongi drawls, leaning casually on the counter as you measure the sugar. “You’re pretty good at this. Maybe we should open a bakery together. I’ll be the charming face of the business, and you can do all the work.”

You snort, nudging him with your elbow. Yoongi has always been like this, with all the occasional comments and jokes. “Oh, so I do the heavy lifting while you stand around and smile? Sounds like a solid partnership.” you playfully roll your eyes.

“Exactly.” he replies with a mock-serious nod. Then his tone shifts, dipping into something playfully flirtatious. “Or, better yet, we could skip the bakery and just bake together... at my place.”

Your eyes widen slightly before you burst into laughter, shaking your head. “You’re terrible.” you say. “I’m practical.” Yoongi retorts with a shrug. “Besides, if you ever get tired of Jungkook, you know where to find me.” he jokes and even you know that he doesn't really mean that because you're somewhat used to his harmless, meaningless flirting.

As far as you've observed, he's like this with everyone, but the man standing a few counters behind you doesn't know that and his jaw tightens as he overhears the conversation.

He glares at Yoongi, his eyes narrowing into slits as his chest tightens uncomfortably. If she ever gets tired of me? Please. The laughter at your station contrasts sharply with the strained silence at his own, and Jungkook struggles to quell the sour taste in his mouth. He stirs the batter with unnecessary vigor, trying to block out the image of you with someone else.

“Are you trying to murder the batter?” Hoseok’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Jungkook blinks and realizes he’s been whisking too hard, the mixture splattered slightly around the edges. “Just... making sure it’s mixed properly.” he mutters, brushing off Hoseok’s raised brow.

Hoseok shakes his head, muttering something about misplaced aggression, but Jungkook doesn’t hear it. His eyes are already back on you, unable to look away even as it irritates him to no end.

“Oh, please.” you reply, rolling your eyes but grinning. “As if I’d ever pick you. You’d probably just make me do all the work anyway.” you say, passing him the bowl so that he can make sure the batter's smoothly mixed.

“Not true.” Yoongi says, feigning offense. “I’d let you taste-test everything too. See? Equal partnership.” he smiles. Your laughter rings out again, light and carefree, and Jungkook feels like he’s losing his mind. It’s not just the banter, or the way Yoongi’s grin stretches wide... it’s the way you respond to him, the way you look genuinely happy.

Eventually, the bake-off wraps up, and to everyone’s surprise, Mr. Park and another coworker, Wonho, win the contest. Their cake is a masterpiece, elegantly designed with intricate icing patterns that scream perfection.

You figure it’s mostly Wonho’s expertise in the decorative details, given his reputation for being particular about aesthetics. The room erupts into cheers and applause as they pose proudly with their winning cake.

You smile to yourself, genuinely happy for them, but the mess on your hands and clothes pulls your focus. Flour is smeared across your arms and streaked on your dress, and you can feel the sticky remnants of batter clinging to your fingers. Without wasting another moment, you slip out of the bustling kitchen, eager to return to your cabin for a much-needed cleanup.

As you head down the hall, your eyes catch sight of Jungkook leaning casually against the wall. His head is tilted down, eyes glued to his phone, but the sharp furrow of his brows and the tight line of his jaw betray his mood. He looks annoyed, maybe even angry.

For a moment, you hesitate. Should you approach him? Was his frustration because of the bake-off? Maybe he’s upset about not winning. You take a deep breath, deciding there’s no harm in greeting him. “Hey.” you say softly as you come to a stop a few feet away from him.

Jungkook’s eyes flicker towards you for the briefest second before returning to his screen. He doesn’t say anything, his fingers continuing to scroll, his expression unreadable but cold. The blatant dismissal catches you off guard. You clear your throat, attempting to brush off the sting of his indifference. “Jungkook?” you say again, your voice firmer this time.

Still, nothing.

The silence stretches, and unease begins to creep in. These past three days of the retreat, you guys had been civil, even managing moments of genuine connection. It had felt like a breakthrough, a tentative truce that hinted at something lighter, something easier. And yet, here he was, shutting you out without reason.

You shift on your feet, your confidence faltering slightly as you wonder if you’ve done something to upset him. “What’s up with you?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral, though the undercurrent of irritation is hard to hide.

This time, Jungkook finally looks up. His dark eyes meet yours, and for a fleeting moment, there’s something softer in them... something almost vulnerable. But just as quickly, that familiar wall slams back into place. “Nothing.” he mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Nothing?” you echo, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’ve been standing here, with your face looking like you just lost a million dollars, but sure, ‘nothing.’”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Why don’t you just go back to Yoongi, Y/N? Stop bothering me.” he snaps. Your head tilts in surprise, amusement flickering briefly in your expression at the mention of Yoongi’s name. “Excuse me?” you ask, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah, go back to him. Looks like you were having quite the time back in there.” Jungkook scoffs, looking away as his jaw tightens. Your amusement quickly shifts to irritation as you process his words. “Why do you even care?” you challenge, your tone sharp now.

“I don’t care.” he fires back almost immediately, his voice a little too quick, a little too defensive. “Oh really?” you ask, stepping closer as you narrow your eyes at him. “I just think it’s funny." he continues, the words tumbling out of him in a rush. “How you’re flirting with some other guy when I’m right here.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, Jungkook freezes, his eyes widening slightly as if realizing what he’s just said. He quickly scrambles to cover it up, clearing his throat and speaking again, this time with forced nonchalance. “I mean, am I not your fake boyfriend? What are people going to think if they see you flirting with someone else?”

You blink at him, your irritation momentarily replaced by astonishment at the bizarre leap in logic. “Are you serious right now?” you ask, a dry laugh escaping you. “You’re worried about what people are going to think? Or are you just... I don't know?? Jealous, Jungkook?”

“I’m not jealous.” he snaps, his voice rising slightly, the defensiveness sharp in the air. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Good question.” you fire back, your tone heavy with sarcasm. “Why should you be jealous? Last time I checked, you’re not my real boyfriend.” Your words come out sharper than you intend, slicing through the tension between you.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens as he glares at you, his lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you watch as something flickers in his eyes, something silent, something that feels like hurt.

Even though you know what you said is the truth, there’s a pang of guilt in your chest. His expression softens just enough to make you second-guess yourself, and for a second, you wonder if maybe you shouldn't have said what you said.

He exhales slowly, the sound heavy with frustration and something else you can’t quite place. “Right.” he finally says, his voice quieter now, more measured. His arms cross over his chest, but the posture doesn’t feel defensive, it feels like he’s holding himself together. “I’m not your real boyfriend.”

The way he echoes your words, so pointedly yet almost resigned, sends a ripple of unease through you. There’s something about the way he looks at you now, something that feels raw and unguarded, and it makes your stomach twist.

For a moment, the silence stretches between you, heavy with everything neither of you is saying. You want to say something... anything, to break the tension, to take back the sting of your words. But nothing comes.

Instead, Jungkook steps back, his gaze lingering on you for just a second longer before he turns away. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Y/n.” he says, his tone light but his words weighted with something deeper. And just like that, he’s gone, leaving you standing there with the echo of your own voice ringing in your ears and a sinking feeling in your chest.

"I just don’t get it.” you groan, throwing your head back against the pillow in Hoseok's cabin, the ceiling above blurring as your thoughts churn. “Why is this happening? Why is he like this?” you question, recalling the earlier interaction between you and Jungkook.

Hoseok, sitting cross-legged on the floor, is surrounded by the chaos of his half-packed suitcase as he tries to find a nice outfit for tomorrow. He folds a T-shirt with an exaggerated patience, glancing up at you with an amused smile. “Come on, Y/N. It’s obvious.” he breathes out.

“What’s obvious?” you ask, your tone laced with frustration. Hoseok sighs dramatically, as if your cluelessness is physically exhausting for him. “He’s jealous.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring at him with furrowed brows. Even you had thought of this particular scenario, but you still question, acting clueless. “Jealous? Of what?”

Hoseok leans back on his hands, a grin tugging at his lips. “Of Yoongi, obviously. You should’ve seen the way he was glaring at the two of you during the bake-off. He was gripping the mixing bowl like it was the only thing keeping him attached to reality. I was literally expecting him to snap it in half.” he jokes.

A disbelieving laugh escapes you, but the weight of Hoseok’s words lingers. “That’s actually ridiculous. Why would he be jealous? We’re not even… I mean…” You trail off, the words “fake dating” sitting heavy in your throat.

“You tell me.” Hoseok says, shrugging as he picks up another shirt. “But it’s pretty clear to anyone with eyes that he was seconds away from combusting every time Yoongi even smiled at you.” he says.

You flop back against the pillow, covering your face with your hands. “This is so infuriating.” you grumble, your voice muffled. “Why does it even matter? It’s not like this whole fake boyfriend thing is real. It’s all just some stupid charade. And now… this... this unnecessary drama. It’s just messing with my mind.” you complain.

Hoseok is quiet for a moment, letting your words hang in the air before he speaks again. His tone is softer now. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

You lower your hands slowly, turning your head to look at him. “What is it?” you question. He hesitates, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Do you... feel something for him?” he asks. The question hits you like a jolt, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Do you?

Your mind races, retracing the tangled threads of your feelings for Jungkook. The way your heart skips when he looks at you just a little too long, the way his rare moments of softness make your chest tighten.

The truth, you realize, is that these feelings aren’t entirely new. They’ve always been there, lurking beneath the surface. Even back at the office, behind all the snarky remarks and the constant bickering, you wanted his attention. You wanted to know him, to get closer to him.

But somehow, the easiest way to stay on his radar had been to antagonize him, to get under his skin. It was safer than admitting how you really felt.

Showing vulnerability to Jungkook felt like handing him a loaded weapon, giving him the upper hand, and that was something your pride wouldn’t allow. The realization settles over you, heavy and unavoidable. You’ve always felt something for him, haven’t you?

Finally, you take a deep breath, the words feeling heavy as they leave your lips. “I… I don’t know.” you mutter. Hoseok watches you closely, his expression softening. “Well...” he says, a small, knowing smile on his lips. “Maybe it’s time to figure it out. Because, Y/n, from where I’m standing, it’s pretty clear that he definitely feels something for you.”

His words settle over you like a weight you’re not ready to carry. You sit up abruptly, the tension in your chest too much to ignore. “I’m going for a walk.” you suddenly announce, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and heading towards the door of Hoseok’s cabin. “I need to clear my mind.”

Hoseok watches you with a soft smile, his hands pausing mid-fold. “Take your time.” he says gently, his tone laced with understanding.

You glance back at him briefly, catching the glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but you’re too preoccupied to comment on it. There’s too much swirling in your head... Jungkook’s piercing stare, his infuriating words, the way these past few days have been so... good with him, the knot of emotions you’ve been trying to untangle since this whole fake dating arrangement began.

Hoseok chuckles softly as you open the door, his voice light but warm. “Don’t think too hard, Y/N. Sometimes the answer is way simpler than you think.” you hear him say as you take a moment to let his words sink in before closing the door.

Jungkook paces across his cabin, each step mirroring the storm brewing in his chest. The memory of your heated exchange claws at him, replaying over and over like a broken record. He feels suffocated by his own frustration, a tightness in his chest that refuses to let go. Why had he let himself snap at you like that? Why couldn’t he control himself when it mattered the most?

Seeing you with Yoongi had been a punch to the gut. He hated the way it made him feel so small, so envious, so... desperate. He hated that it wasn’t him making you laugh, teasing you until you blushed, earning that bright, genuine smile that lit up your face. Instead, he was stuck in his own head, too consumed by his emotions to step up and be the person he wanted to be for you.

His jaw clenches as the questions pile up, each one heavier than the last. Why wasn’t he the one by your side, making you happy? Why was Yoongi so easily able to draw you in when Jungkook himself always seemed to stumble and just make you mad?

His stomach churns with the realization that his feelings for you are far more complicated than he’s willing to admit. The guilt gnaws at him, sharp and unrelenting. He knows he crossed a line.

You’d approached him, likely with the intention of being nice and talking to him since he looked annoyed, and instead of meeting you halfway, he’d lashed out, letting his jealousy dictate his words. Bringing up Yoongi had been petty and uncalled for, and he hates himself for it.

Jungkook exhales shakily, dragging a hand through his hair. He feels the weight of the unease coursing through his veins, and it’s unbearable. He can’t sit here and let things fester. Not when he’s spent the past few days realizing how much your dynamic is shifting... how much he’s shifting.

Without another thought, he grabs his jacket, slipping it on as he strides to the door. The crisp night air hits his face as he steps outside, but it does little to cool the turmoil within him. He doesn’t know what exactly he’ll say to you when he finds you, but he knows he has to try.

Because the idea of letting things revert back to what you guys once were feels unbearable. He doesn’t want to go back to being the guy who only got your attention through arguments and war of words. He doesn’t want to ruin whatever this fragile, tentative thing between you is turning into.

Jungkook shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, determination fueling his every step. He knows he owes you an apology and more than that, he owes you honesty. He just hopes he hasn’t already pushed you too far away.

As he crosses the quiet, dew-kissed lawn, his steps falter when he suddenly spots you. There you are, sitting alone on a weathered bench, your figure outlined against the soft glow of the lamplight. The cool night air wraps around you as you gaze out into the vast expanse of the dark sky, your eyes tracing the faint silhouettes of the mountains in the distance.

He stops in his tracks, his chest tightening at the sight of you. Even from a distance, he notices the way your teeth gently tug at your lower lip, a habit he’s come to recognize when you’re lost in thought. There’s a stillness about you, a kind of quiet vulnerability that makes something in him ache.

Jungkook exhales slowly, preparing himself. His feet carry him forward before his mind can overthink it. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, his nerves tangling tighter with each step. When he’s close enough to be heard but not startle you, he clears his throat softly. "Hey." he says, his voice gentler than he’d expected, almost unsure.

You glance up, your expression briefly startled before your features seem to soften. You don’t say anything immediately, and he hesitates, wondering if you’re going to ask him to leave. But you don’t... you just watch him, waiting for him to speak.

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck, his gaze dropping momentarily before he forces himself to look at you again. His expression is uncharacteristically soft, a vulnerability shining through. "I just... I just wanted to say I'm sorry." he begins, his voice low but steady. "For earlier. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was out of line."

You don’t respond immediately, your eyes studying his face as the weight of his apology lingers between you. For a moment, all you can hear is the faint hum of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves in the night breeze.

With a quiet sigh, you scoot over slightly on the bench, offering him a silent invitation. Jungkook hesitates for half a second before sitting down beside you, leaving just enough space to feel the tension in the air.

His eyes drift to the mountains, dark silhouettes against the star-speckled sky, mirroring the turmoil in his mind. "I don’t know why I said it." he admits after a pause, frustration evident in his tone. "I guess... I just couldn’t stand seeing you with Yoongi like that. It got to me."

You let his words settle, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. "But it shouldn’t get to you, Jungkook." you reply, your voice quieter than you intended. "We’re... we’re not together. I don’t want things to get complicated between us." You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it harder to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Protecting yourself feels like the only option… you can’t risk letting him see how this fake relationship has started to feel real to you. It’s safer to pretend otherwise.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, but you see his hands clench slightly, resting on his knees. Your words cut deeper than you realize. The phrase not together grates on him, leaving an ache in his chest he doesn’t know how to ease.

He wants to tell you how wrong you are, how much he wishes this whole thing was real, but something about the way you said it makes him falter. Maybe you don’t feel the same way, and he’s just fooling himself.

“I know I shouldn’t have pulled you into something like this.” he finally says, his voice softer now, almost resigned. You glance at him, noticing the conflicted expression on his face, but before you can reply, your gaze shifts past him to a figure lurking in the distance.

Mrs. Lee stands a few feet away, partially hidden by the shadows, her head tilted slightly, clearly trying to catch the tail end of your ongoing conversation. Her posture screams suspicion, and your stomach twists in panic. You don’t think, you just act.

“I know this whole fake relatio—” Jungkook starts, but you cut him off abruptly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his.

The kiss isn’t calculated or delicate, it’s instinctual, an impulsive move to shut him up before Mrs. Lee hears something she shouldn’t. Your lips are warm against his, though neither of you move.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes widening as his brain scrambles to catch up with what just happened. His heart hammers so loudly in his chest he’s certain you can hear it. For a second, the world tilts, his thoughts spinning in chaos.

But before he can even process it, you’re already pulling away. Your eyes dart past him, scanning the distance where Mrs. Lee once stood. You exhale softly when you realize she’s no longer there, most likely walking off with her suspicions unsatisfied.

“Fuck… that was... that was close.” you murmur, the words slipping out in a breathless whisper as your gaze finally locks with his. Your tone is almost too calm, too casual, as if the kiss hadn’t just turned his whole world upside down.

Jungkook just stares at you, his expression frozen in stunned disbelief, his lips still parted as if he’s trying to catch the remnants of something fleeting.

“What?” he mutters, the single word heavy with confusion and something raw. You exhale shakily, the weight of the moment crashing down on you as you realize the line you just crossed.

“I’m so sorry.” you begin, your voice faltering under his unwavering stare. “Mrs. Lee… she was eavesdropping. She was going to find out about us if you kept talking.” You explain.

His features shift instantly, the softness in his eyes hardening into something unreadable. It’s like watching a storm gather on the horizon, his emotions swirling, barely contained. You can almost see the exact moment realization hits him, the slight flinch in his jaw, the way his shoulders tense as the revelation bleeds into hurt.

“That’s… that’s why you kissed me?” His voice is low, trembling with disbelief and something sharper, something you can’t quite name. Your stomach twists with guilt, the weight of your actions clawing at you. “I mean… yeah.” you admit reluctantly. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

The darkness in his eyes deepens, his brows knitting together as a bitter laugh escapes him. It’s a sound so uncharacteristic, so hollow, it sends a pang through your chest. “So it wasn’t because you wanted to. It was just to keep the… act alive.”

The accusation in his tone slices through you, leaving a sting you can’t ignore. You reach for words, for anything to soften the blow, but he’s already moving, standing abruptly from the bench. His hand rakes through his hair, the motion restless and frustrated.

“Got it.” he mutters, his voice clipped, barely restrained as he starts striding away. “Jungkook, wait—” you call after him, scrambling to your feet, trying to grab his arm.

He whirls around so suddenly, the force of his movement makes you instinctively step back, the air thickening between you in an instant. His eyes are wild, blazing with frustration, but beneath it, there's a rawness, a vulnerability that cuts through everything else.

"No, Y/n !!" he snaps, his voice so sharp it feels like it could slice the air between you. "One minute you're telling me how you don't want things to get complicated, and the next, you're..." he gestures between you, his hand trembling slightly. "You're kissing me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

“I panicked!” you retort, your voice coming out ragged, barely holding onto control. You feel your heart pounding in your throat. “Mrs. Lee was about to find out, and I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t have a choice!”

His steps are measured, each one bringing him closer, his presence overwhelming, his energy suffocating. “You always have a choice.” he spits, his voice low but carrying a venom that stings deeper than any physical wound. “Don’t act like you did this for me. You did it because you were too terrified to face the consequences. That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

The accusation hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of his words, and something in you snaps. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady, but the anger bubbling inside threatens to break free. “What do you want me to say, Jungkook?” you bite out, each word coming harder than the last. “That I wanted to kiss you? That I enjoyed it? Would that make you feel better?”

He scoffs, the sound bitter and cold, and it hits deeper than anything he’s said so far. "Don’t twist this around on me." His gaze hardens, his eyes narrowing with intensity. “You can’t just cross a line like that and pretend it means nothing. You don’t get to do that. You can’t just—"

“And what about you?” you fire back, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt, a sharp edge to your words now. “You’re the one who pulled me into this whole fake relationship to begin with… and now you’re mad because I’m going along with it? I’m sorry but this is on you, Jungkook!”

“On me?” His voice rises again, incredulity dripping from every syllable. “You could’ve stopped it at any time. The first night, the first second I lied to everyone… you could’ve told the truth. But you didn’t. You stayed silent. Like I said, you always have a choice.”

His words crash into you like a tidal wave, leaving you momentarily stunned. The anger and guilt mix into a swirling, suffocating knot in your chest. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you can feel is the sting of his words, and suddenly, you're fighting back, voice louder than before.

“Oh, please, Jungkook! I would’ve denied it if you hadn’t been constantly talking over me, pushing me to the corner. It was like you didn’t want me to deny it. So what the hell was I supposed to do?” You’re breathing heavily now, every word like a battle, your body trembling with the energy of it.

He stares at you for a moment, his chest heaving with each breath, his face still etched with fury, but there’s something else there now… a flicker of realization in his eyes, a shift that you can’t quite understand.

You speak again, the words coming out in a rushed, frantic burst. “Why did you even say it? What was the poi—"

“I couldn’t fucking stand Minhyuk flirting with you !!” His voice is rough, desperate, like he's been holding this back for far too long. The intensity of his confession strikes you like a thunderclap, and for a moment, you're too stunned to react.

Before you can say anything, he continues, voice raw with frustration. “If that creep wasn’t enough already, Mrs. Lee was going to set you up on another one of her stupid blind dates, and I couldn’t just stand there and let it happen. I couldn’t..."

You can hear the crack in his voice, the raw emotion bubbling over like a dam about to break. It’s like all the months of built-up frustration and unspoken feelings are crashing down on you all at once, and you’re struggling to keep your footing. “It doesn’t make sense, Jungkook.” you start, your words trembling. “Why does it bother you so much—”

“BECAUSE I LIKE YOU, DAMN IT!!” He cuts you off again, but this time, his voice doesn’t crack with anger, it’s louder, firmer, like it’s the last thing he’ll say before everything changes. The words explode from his chest, raw and unguarded, and they hit you like a physical blow. They hang in the air, suspended in time, and the ringing silence that follows is deafening. The weight of what he’s just said presses down on you, suffocating, unrelenting.

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you don’t know whether to speak, to run, to stay frozen in place, because the words he’s said are far heavier than anything you ever expected. He looks at you, his chest rising and falling, and after what feels like an eternity, he exhales a long, shuddering breath.

“There…” he murmurs, his voice softer now, but still edged with the intensity of what he’d just confessed. “There… you have it. I like you, Y/N. And just the thought of you with anyone else... it drives me crazy.”

The quietness that follows is unbearable, like everything around you has come to a grinding halt. All you can do is stand there, stunned, the truth of his words echoing in your mind, your heart pounding in your chest. He takes a step back, running a hand down his face as if trying to calm himself. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter.

“I came here to apologize to you tonight…” he begins, his voice trembling with a raw vulnerability that feels like a blade twisting inside your chest. “Because I thought… I thought we were finally moving past all those childish fights and pointless arguments. I thought…” His voice falters, a breath catching in his throat as he exhales shakily. “I thought I was developing something real with you.”

The weight of his words presses into you, splitting you open in ways you didn’t think were possible. You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes. The guilt, the truth, the mess you’ve made… everything hangs between you like an immovable barrier.

“I thought that throughout this retreat, I got to see so many more sides of you…” he continues, his words punctuated by a bitter laugh. “I thought I was getting closer to you, but I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong… because this is all just… a stupid fucking act to you.” His hand runs through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves.

There’s a long, agonizing silence, thick and heavy, before he speaks again. His words are quieter, but they slice through the stillness. “You know what…” He suddenly pauses, looking away as if he’s trying to find a shred of clarity in the chaos. “You’re right. Maybe… maybe it was my fault after all. Getting into this stupid arrangement… What the hell was I even thinking?”

A bitter laugh escapes him then, hollow and dry, as he presses his lips together in a thin line. His gaze drifts upward to the dark sky, his eyes glistening with unshed emotion, the weight of everything he’s holding back palpable in the air. “Let’s just... pretend this… never fucking happened.” His words pass through you, sharp and final, and for a moment, your breath catches in your throat.

You stand frozen, watching him turn away, each step he takes away from you feels like an echo in your chest. He walks farther and farther away, his figure slowly shrinking in the distance, and with each step, the world around you grows colder, more suffocating.

The next two days pass by in a blur, a haze of confusion and regret that clouds your every thought. Jungkook avoids you like the plague, and it's impossible not to notice the way he keeps his distance in group settings, his eyes carefully avoiding yours whenever they happen to meet.

You can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as if everyone around you can sense something is off, but you're too wrapped up in your own head to care. Let them gossip. Let them wonder. It’s the least of your worries.

All you can think about is him. His words, his voice, the rawness in his confession. It replays over and over in your mind, and no matter how much you try to push it away, it lingers like a wound that won't heal. You're mad at yourself for letting things spiral this far, for letting it all get so out of hand. You should've said something, you tell yourself, but the truth is, you were terrified.

You still remember that night... the way your heart pounded in your chest when he confessed, how badly you wanted to tell him that you felt the same, that the shift hadn't been lost on you either. You wanted to tell him that this whole thing hadn't been a game for you, that your feelings had started to change, that you had started to care. But the look in his eyes, the vexation in his voice, it all stopped you from saying a single word.

In that moment, you froze. His frustration was palpable, and all you could do was stand there, staring at him, caught in the grip of everything he was throwing at you. His anger, his confusion, it filled the space between you like an impenetrable wall. You couldn't even find the courage to fight back, to tell him how much you had started to feel for him too. All you could do was listen to his words, to the weight of what he was saying, and let the silence stretch on longer than you ever intended.

And now here you are, stuck in this limbo, neither moving forward nor back, just existing in this awkward, painful space where every glance, every silence, feels like a reminder of what you couldn't say. You hate that he’s avoiding you, hate that you’re both walking around each other like ghosts in the same room, but you’re equally terrified of confronting it all head-on. What if he doesn't feel the same anymore? What if he regrets what he said?

You want to go to him, to break this silence, to tell him everything you should have said that night. But you're not sure if you can bear the weight of the possibility that he might not want to hear it. So instead, you keep your distance, the quiet ache of unspoken words building inside you, while everything around you continues to move in ways you no longer understand.

You remain in your cabin, the sound of laughter and chatter from outside barely registering in your mind as everyone else gets ready for the very last event of this retreat, the talent show.

The air around you feels thick, suffocating, as the buzz of excitement from your coworkers echoes through your cabin. But you don't care. You have no intention of participating, no desire to join in their festivities. The thought of putting on a smile, of pretending to be fine, feels exhausting. Instead, you pull the blanket tighter around yourself, cocooning yourself in the isolation you've come to crave.

You try to sleep, to let the darkness of the room envelop you and quiet the chaos inside your mind, but sleep feels elusive. Every time you close your eyes, your thoughts race back to him... his sharp words, the way he looked at you when he confessed, how he walked away as though nothing between you had ever mattered. The way he’s avoiding you now, as though you were a stranger he could never quite bring himself to face.

The thought of facing him again, of enduring another evening where he looks at you and then proceeds to ignore your very existence, is unbearable. You can’t take it. The coldness in his gaze, the way he acts like you’re nothing, like you’re invisible... it hurts in a way you hadn’t expected. You thought you could keep your feelings hidden, that you could keep pretending this was all just part of the act, but now, it’s all too real. It’s suffocating, and you’re left with nothing but the emptiness inside.

So you stay in your cabin, away from it all, away from him. All you want is for the world to quiet down, for the pain to stop, for the feeling of being ignored and invisible to disappear. But all you’re left with is the silence and the emptiness, a stark reminder that sometimes, it’s easier to hide than to face what’s right in front of you.

When you’re still trying hard to sleep, you hear a knock on the door. “Y/n, I’m coming in.” It’s Hoseok, but you don’t answer anything, remaining rooted to your position. He’s the only one who’s aware of your current situation, so he’s giving you all the space you need. “Hey…” he softly says as the door opens and his head peeks inside. “The talent show is starting in a bit. You sure you don’t want to watch?” he asks. You remain quiet, hoping your silence is able to convey your answer. Hoseok sighs softly. “Well if you change your mind, I’ll be outside okay?” And just like that you hear the door click close, leaving you and your thoughts alone all over again.

The clock’s ticking grows louder as the evening stretches on, the music and cheers from the arena outside only serving to remind you of your isolation. You sigh, the weight of your feelings pressing against you. Maybe staying in isn’t helping. Maybe stepping out will offer you the distraction you desperately need.

With a quiet resolution, you slip on your sweater over your dress, trying to smooth your hair into some semblance of order. Your face feels empty, but you don’t have the energy to care. You step out slowly, your eyes instinctively drawn to the bustling arena in front of you. The crowd, the music, the laughter... it’s all happening so effortlessly around you.

You make your way over, crossing your arms and leaning against a nearby pillar. Suho is performing a magic act on stage, his tricks capturing the crowd's attention and their gasps of wonder. You watch, a soft smile forming despite yourself, the momentary distraction soothing some of the tension in your chest. It’s nice, you think, to see others enjoying themselves, even if you feel a world away from it all.

As Suho finishes his act, you feel the lightness of the atmosphere begin to seep in, and for a moment, you start to forget about everything weighing on your mind. But then, Mr. Park’s voice rings out across the arena, breaking your moment of peace.

“And next... we have Jeon Jungkook, and he’s going to sing a song for us!!”

A wave of surprise floods through you, but you can’t tear your eyes away as Jungkook steps onto the stage and the crowd instantly cheers for him. He’s wearing an oversized sweater and jeans, looking effortlessly casual but somehow more captivating than ever. His smile is small but sincere as he faces the crowd, and the lights around the stage shift, casting a soft, dreamy glow on him.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him, your chest tightening with something you can’t quite place. You know you shouldn’t feel this way, but the pull of his presence is undeniable. He doesn’t seem to notice you, too focused on the audience, but then the background music begins to play.

And you instantly recognize the song.

Your heart stumbles in your chest as the words hit you, sharp and tender all at once. You’ve heard this song before, countless times, but now… now it’s different. Every note seems to pull at something inside you, something you were fighting to keep buried. His voice is smooth, soft like honey, but there’s a rawness in it now, an emotion that you can’t ignore.

He closes his eyes as he sings, lost in the music, and for a moment, it’s as though the world around you has melted away. All that remains is him, his voice, and the lyrics that seem to cut right through you.

I gave you everything, baby, everything I had to give Girl, why would you push me away? Yeah Lost in confusion, like an illusion You know I'm used to making your day

The familiar words feel like they’ve been written just for this moment, for you. His voice carries the weight of the past, the bitter present between you two. And somehow, as he sings, it feels like he’s telling a story… the story of you both, wrapped in the lines of this song.

But that is the past now, we didn't last now I guess that this is meant to be Tell me, was it worth it? We were so perfect But, baby, I just want you to see

The words linger in the air, heavy with emotion, and your heart cracks with every line. The memories flash in your mind… every moment you shared, every smile, every laugh. But there’s a bitter sweetness in it too, a reminder of what was lost.

There's nothing like us There's nothing like you and me Together through the storm

And then, as if the universe itself has shifted, you feel it. His gaze. It lands on you from across the stage, and for a split second, it feels like the world stops spinning. He doesn’t break his gaze, his eyes steady on yours, but there’s something different now. Something raw. He’s still singing, but now it feels like every word is meant for you.

His voice, still gentle but filled with so much emotion, seems to wrap around you, pulling you into a world where only the two of you exist. The crowd fades away, and all that matters is the connection between you two… his gaze, his voice, his presence. You try to breathe, but it feels like the air has thickened. The way he sings… There's nothing like us, echo in your chest, resonating with a truth that both stings and soothes at the same time.

The moment stretches, heavy and thick, until it feels almost unbearable. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break eye contact. He just keeps singing, as though the song itself is a confession, a bridge between what you were and what you could have been.

Once Jungkook steps off the stage, you rush back to your cabin, slamming the door behind you. You lean against it, your breath shallow and uneven. Slowly, you sink to the floor, your head falling onto your knees as the floodgates open. The tears come in waves, as if everything you've been holding in is finally breaking free. The pain in your chest is so sharp, so intense, that it almost feels like you can't breathe.

How did it all come to this? Why does it hurt so much? The confusion, the longing, the heartbreak... they all seem to crash down on you at once, overwhelming and relentless. You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in the ache, but you sob until your throat burns and your body trembles. Each sob feels like it’s tearing you apart.

You sit there, motionless, your head still resting on your knees, hugging yourself as if trying to hold onto something, anything. But nothing feels like it makes sense. You feel lost, like you're stranded in the middle of nowhere with no idea how to escape this unbearable pain that seems to consume you.

And just when you think you might drown in the silence of your own grief, you hear a knock on the door. “Y/n? You asleep?” It’s Hoseok again. You sigh, your chest heavy, and rise to your feet. You wipe your face hastily, but it’s no use. The tears are still there, still fresh. You turn and open the door, bracing yourself for whatever he might say.

“Oh… hey.” Hoseok says, but his voice catches when he sees your tear-streaked face. His eyes widen with concern. “Oh my god, Y/n… are you okay?”

You sniffle, your gaze falling to the floor as you shake your head, unable to speak, the weight of everything too much. It’s all it takes for Hoseok to step inside and pull you into his arms. You don't resist. His embrace is warm, safe, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself sink into it, allowing the tears to fall once more. And this time, you don’t have to be alone in it.

Hoseok's voice is soft, but his words carry weight as he helps you to the edge of your bed, his arms steady and comforting around you as he sits down with you. He doesn't say anything at first, just holds you gently, allowing the silence to stretch between you two.

"I thought I’d check up on you since the talent show just got over." Hoseok finally speaks, his voice low and steady. He pauses for a moment, his hand gently stroking your hair. "I didn’t expect to find you in this state."

You don't say anything, still wrapped up in his embrace, unsure of how to answer. His words seem to echo in the quiet room, but you don’t know what to say. You feel like you're drowning, and yet all you can do is sit there, letting the tears subside, one breath at a time.

"Y/n…" Hoseok whispers your name, his voice filled with concern. He doesn’t push for an answer right away, giving you the space to simply exist in the comfort of his arms. But then, he continues, his voice carrying a soft but steady note of advice. "I know it hurts right now, but you can’t keep burying this inside. You’re only going to keep hurting yourself that way."

His words are gentle, but they cut deep. You remain still, not ready to face what he's saying, but somehow, you know he's right. You're just scared, scared of the vulnerability, the fear of rejection.

"You should try talking to Jungkook." Hoseok says softly. "Even if he’s not ready to listen, even if it feels like he won’t understand, it’s still worth a shot. You deserve to let him know how you feel."

You flinch at the mention of Jungkook’s name, the thought of approaching him so raw, so vulnerable, makes your chest tighten. But Hoseok isn’t done.

"Y/n, liking someone, falling in love... it’s never wrong. You can’t control how you feel, and you don’t have to hide it because it scares you. Love is messy, it’s imperfect, but it’s not something to be ashamed of. You deserve to be honest, even if it’s hard."

A quiet sob escapes your lips, and Hoseok tightens his hold on you, not in a way that suffocates you, but with the warmth of someone who truly cares. Hoseok’s words sink in, each one cutting through the fog in your mind. As he holds you, stroking your hair gently, something inside of you shifts. His gentle advice, though simple, sparks a fire you didn’t even know was there. You feel a stir deep within you, a sudden surge of clarity that pushes aside the fear and doubt.

You deserve to be honest, even if it’s hard. The words echo in your mind, over and over, like a mantra. And for the first time in what feels like forever, something inside of you stirs something powerful, something real.

You pull away from Hoseok slightly, your face still wet with tears but your heart feeling a little lighter. You take a deep breath, the weight in your chest now feeling more like anticipation than dread.

“I have to go.” you murmur to Hoseok, your voice shaking but determined. Hoseok looks at you, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. "Are… are you sure?"

You don’t answer at first, just look at him, eyes wide with sudden resolve. “I’m going to talk to him. I can’t keep running away from this.” Without another word, you stand up, the suddenness of it all making your head spin. Your feet move on their own accord, each step purposeful as you cross the room. Hoseok watches, his eyes full of silent support.

As you step out of your cabin, the empty arena and stage immediately catch your attention. Chairs are scattered about, and you scan the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jungkook. Your feet start moving almost instinctively, the desire to find him overwhelming. You make your way to his cabin, but there's no response. A small part of you wonders if he’s ignoring you, but you push the thought aside, continuing your search around the resort grounds.

You check the rope bridge, wander through the rose garden, even visit the familiar bench where you once sat together, but there’s no sign of him. Your chest tightens, your heart thumping painfully with each turn, each empty corner. Desperation settles in as you run your fingers through your hair, trying to steady yourself.

And then, finally, you see him.

There he is, sitting in the hot tub, his back turned to you. You freeze in place for a moment, your eyes tracing the outline of his broad shoulders. His elbows rest casually on the rim of the tub, the soft steam rising from the water around him. He doesn’t seem to notice you standing behind him, your presence unnoticed in the quiet night.

For a long while, you just watch him, the sound of the water bubbling softly filling the silence between you. You feel a strange sense of both relief and anxiety. You’ve found him, but the distance between you feels insurmountable. He doesn’t know you’re here, doesn’t know the storm brewing in your chest.

You take a deep breath, mustering every ounce of courage you can find. Without saying a word, you step forward, your heart hammering in your chest. Each step feels heavier than the last, and your hands grip the fabric of your dress, the tightness in your fists mirroring the anxiety bubbling inside you.

When you’re only a few feet away, you can’t hold back anymore. “Jungkook…” you call out, your voice trembling ever so slightly as it cuts through the soft sounds of the bubbling water.

His body stiffens instantly. The tense shift of his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed, but he doesn’t turn to face you. You watch his back, his head slightly bowed, as if he’s trying to ignore your presence. The air between you thickens, the tension palpable as the sound of the water swirls around you, drowning out everything else.

You stand there, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The silence stretches on, thick and uncomfortable, the sound of the bubbling water in the hot tub louder than your racing thoughts. Your hands tremble slightly, and your heart beats erratically as the words you're holding in fight to escape.

"Jungkook…" you call out again, your voice wavering, almost a desperate whisper. It feels like you’re trying to hold a thousand emotions together, but they’re spilling out of you, unstoppable. "I… I don’t even know where to begin, but I need you to hear me out... I really... really need you to just give me a chance... to explain myself."

The air around you feels thick, suffocating, as if your very breath is tangled with everything unsaid. You can see him still not turning to face you, his back a wall, his silence deafening.

A pang of frustration courses through you, but beneath it, there’s something even more powerful... a deep longing, a desperate yearning. You’ve never felt this exposed, yet this desperate to make him understand.

With hesitant steps, you move around the edge of the hot tub, reaching the other side where you can finally see his face, heart racing in your chest as you inch closer. The blue light from the tub spills over the rim, casting soft shadows on his face, making his features seem almost ethereal.

The water ripples, reflecting fragments of his skin, his chest rising and falling with every slow breath. He’s looking down, eyes shadowed, and his tongue absentmindedly tracing the piercings on his lip.

The sight of him, so close yet so distant, breaks something inside you. You swallow, fighting to keep the emotions in check, but it's no use. The tears that you’ve been holding back finally fall freely, slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts to keep them in.

You take another shaky breath and walk a little closer, your heart pounding louder with every step, until you’re at the very edge of the hot tub. You hesitantly take a seat on the wet rim, opposite to where he's standing in the water. You can feel the warm steam of the boiling water near you, and a sigh escapes your lips as your gaze shifts to him again.

With trembling hands, you wipe away the fresh stream of tears, but they only seem to flow faster, as if your heart itself is breaking and you can no longer hold it together. You open your mouth to speak, but your voice falters, cracking with emotion.

"Are you… really going to ignore me?" you ask, the words feeling like cold metal against your tongue. The tremor in your voice betrays every ounce of control you’ve desperately tried to hold on to. It’s like the weight of your emotions spills out in that single sentence, and Jungkook, as if sensing the raw vulnerability in your tone, finally looks up. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, the world around you seems to stop.

The silence between you stretches, heavy with unspoken words. His gaze, deep and intense, softens, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes... something like regret, guilt, perhaps even pain, as he takes in the sight of your tear-streaked face. His gaze flicks over the intricate trails of tears on your cheeks, each one a silent testament to the weight you’ve been carrying.

He doesn’t speak immediately, and for a second, you wonder if he’ll turn away again. But instead, he remains still, his expression unreadable yet so undeniably affected. Realizing this is your chance to finally speak, you begin.

"I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything that happened. I never meant for it to turn out like this. I… I was so scared… scared of how things had suddenly changed between us. But, Jungkook, I—" Your voice falters, and a sob escapes before you can stop it. You pause, swallowing the lump in your throat, but the tears continue to fall, relentless.

Jungkook’s breath catches in his chest when he sees the tears streaming down your face. It’s like a punch to the gut, and he feels it deep within himself. At that moment, he realizes just how much he despises seeing you cry, how every tear you shed breaks him in ways he can’t even put into words. He doesn’t want to see you like this... not hurt, not broken.

He swallows hard, his throat tight as guilt floods through him. The past two days have been an absolute nightmare for him. After confessing his feelings in the most chaotic, confusing way possible, all he could do was push you away, though every part of him screamed to reach out. Ignoring you was the last thing he ever wanted to do, but in a twisted way, he convinced himself it was the only way to deal with everything that had changed between you two.

He thought it would make things easier, but instead, it only twisted the knife deeper, making him feel more lost than ever. You were the only person he wanted to talk to, the only person who could make him feel whole again and yet, ironically, you were also the one person he felt he couldn’t face.

His elbows shift off the rim of the hot tub, and with slow and steady steps inside the warm water, he makes his way towards the other end of the tub where you’re seated on the rim. "Hey..." he calls out softly, but you just can’t stop crying. The words he wants to say seem to get caught in his throat, as if he’s afraid to say the wrong thing, yet helpless to remain silent.

He rests his palms on the rim, right behind you, as you remain hunched, your face buried in your hands. You don’t acknowledge his presence immediately, still consumed by the storm of emotion inside you.

Before he can say another word, you're speaking again, your voice shaky and broken, each word heavy with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. "You don’t know how much it hurts, seeing you like this, seeing you… push me away when all I want is... to talk to you... to... to be with you." Your voice cracks as you try to gather yourself, but the tears just won’t stop.

"I’ve been holding this in for so long, because I thought if I kept quiet, things would get better, but they haven’t. They never will, unless I say this…" The silence that follows is suffocating, the words hanging in the air between you, raw and unfiltered. Jungkook’s expression softens, his gaze flickering with something almost unreadable, but the guilt is clear.

He watches you carefully, unable to tear his eyes away as you continue to break open before him. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to stop the flow of your confession. He knows, in this moment, that the only thing he can do is listen, because no matter how hard it is to hear, you need to speak your truth.

You take another shaky breath, finally moving your hands away from your face as you turn to look at him. He’s so much more closer now as he looks up at you from the hot tub.

"I care about you… I care about you so much, Jungkook. I think I’ve always cared, even when I didn’t know how to show it. And now, all I can do is watch you drift away, and I hate it. I hate how I made you think that I didn’t feel the same… that I didn’t want this. But I do. I want us.... and I so badly wanted our fake relationship to be… to be real.”

The sobs start coming again, stronger this time, making it harder to get the words out. "I like you. I like you so much. And it hurts to see you looking at me like I’m a stranger when all I’ve wanted was for you to understand that you mean so much more to me... you're not... not my rival.. not my enemy..."

You stop for a moment, trying to gather yourself. The weight of everything you’ve been holding in crashes over you like a wave, but you continue, your voice breaking as you speak. "I’m sorry if this is too much, if I’m saying all the wrong things, but I just… I can’t keep pretending anymore. I can’t stand this distance between us… especially knowing I’m the reason behind it. Please just… forgive me. It was never just an act to me… I swear."

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, your trembling fingers only making the tears blur more. Your stomach churns with the overwhelming weight of everything you’ve just poured out. The silence that follows feels like it stretches for miles, too heavy to bear, and you can't bring yourself to look at him.

Your eyes stay lowered, afraid to see the disappointment or confusion that you might find in his gaze. Afraid of the silence that might follow your confession.

But then, you feel a warmth against your back... his hand, gentle but firm, resting there. It startles you, but you don't move. He doesn't say anything, but you feel his presence growing stronger as he slowly guides your body to face him, carefully moving you on the rim of the hot tub.

Your legs dip into the water, the warmth of it momentarily soothing the aching in your chest, but the heat of the moment, the proximity between you and Jungkook, is all consuming.

You look down at him, still unsure of what’s happening, but then you feel him tug you forward, ever so gently, until your body slips off the rim and is immersed in the boiling water. The warmth of the water seems to fade in comparison to the heat that’s building between you both.

Your heart races, a thousand thoughts swirling in your head, but the moment you feel his hands settle around your waist, your breath catches. He’s holding you, steadying you, inching you closer until you’re completely within his space.

Your mind spins as you try to process what’s happening. You can’t decide if you should pull away or lean into him, but the way he holds you…so carefully, yet with a quiet urgency, makes you stay. The water bubbles around you both, but the world around you feels so distant. It’s just him and you in this moment. You try to steady your breathing, but the knot in your chest only tightens.

"Jungkook..." you whisper, finally lifting your eyes to meet his. His gaze softens, his small smile lingering as he listens, his gaze never leaving your face. His eyes twitch and his heart breaks as he notices the tears on your cheeks, but finally being in this moment has him feeling lighter.

He lets out a light laugh, his tone shifting to a teasing one, "Took you long enough." his smile widening a little more. But then, as if to lighten the mood, his tone changes, filled with playful curiosity, "Is someone watching us right now, or are you being for real?"

The shift in his tone, the way he jokes despite everything that’s been said, catches you off guard. But despite the overwhelming emotions bubbling inside you, a small giggle escapes your lips, the sound strange but freeing in the silence that had weighed so heavily before. You wipe your face again, but this time, it’s not just tears... there’s a small trace of relief, of hope.

"I don’t care if anyone's watching or not..." you whisper, the weight of your confession finally slipping off your shoulders. And then, as if you’re no longer holding anything back, you take a deep breath, your voice trembling slightly as you continue. "But Jungkook, I…" You falter for just a moment, unsure of how to let this truth unfold.

His hands tug you closer in the water, the intimacy of the gesture settling within you, making your heart beat faster.

You can feel his body so close to yours, your dress still clinging to your skin under the rippling surface of the warm water, but you shove the thought aside. None of it matters anymore... not the water, not the fact that you're in the hot tub with your clothes still on. All that matters is the words you’re finally ready to say.

"I like you." you whisper softly, each word feeling like it holds all the emotions you’ve kept hidden for so long. "I like you... so much. And truthfully, these feelings aren’t new. I think a part of me has always liked you this way."

The confession slips out so naturally, but it feels like a weight has been lifted. You’ve finally said what’s been buried deep inside you, what you've struggled with for so long, with so much resolve and confidence. And as Jungkook listens, the silence between you now feels different.... lighter, warmer, almost like a promise in itself.

Jungkook smiles, his heart leaping in his chest. “Do you mean that?” he asks quietly, his voice soft, like he needs you to say it all again. You nod frantically, inching closer in the water as you feel his form against yours. “I do. I mean every word. And if I’ve ruined everything between us, I’m so sorry. But I had to tell you, even if it changes nothing.”

For a moment, he just stares down at you, the reflection of the water reflecting in his dark eyes. “You haven’t ruined anything...” he murmurs, his grip tightening around your waist. “If anything, I’ve been the one ruining it by staying away when all I wanted was to be close to you.”

Your breath hitches as he leans closer, his forehead resting against yours. “You scared me too, you know....” he pauses, the bubbling sound of the water filling the air again. “I wasn’t sure if what I felt for you was too much, too soon. But now I know… it’s never too much.... You’re never too much.”

As his forehead rests against yours, your eyes remain closed as you intently listen to him as a small smile tugs your trembling lips. "So... what now?" you ask quietly.

You feel him pull away just a little and you notice how his lips curve into a small, tender smile. “Now, we stop running... we stop this fake relationship and we get our shits together.” His laugh escapes at the end, low and warm, and you can’t help but giggle through the tears still clinging to your lashes.

“So no more acts?” you tease gently as you rest your palms against his bare chest. “No more acts.” he promises, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with quiet determination and a depth of affection that leaves you breathless.

The moment stretches, heavy with an unspoken tension, until Jungkook leans in slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips. He hesitates, as if searching for permission, and you feel your breath catch. Slowly, you close the gap yourself, and the moment your lips meet, it's like you've wanted nothing more than this.

His kiss is soft at first, tentative, like a question he’s finally found the courage to ask. The warmth of it washes over you, melting every ounce of fear and hesitation. You lean into him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as he pulls you closer, his grip on your waist firm and steady.

When the kiss deepens, it’s unhurried and achingly tender, like he’s trying to pour every unsaid word and feeling into it. His wet hand moves to cradle the back of your head, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as if to soothe the tears that still linger there.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. His eyes flutter open, and there’s a flicker of vulnerability mixed with relief.

“I don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” he admits, his voice low and raspy, barely audible over the gentle bubbling of the water. His dark eyes, brimming with sincerity, search yours as if you hold the answer to every question he’s ever been afraid to ask. His lips curve into a soft, almost bashful smile. “Maybe forever.” he adds.

His words wash over you like the warm water surrounding you, leaving you breathless and weightless all at once. Your heart flips, and for the first time, it feels like all the pieces of the puzzle have fallen into place. A small, shy smile spreads across your face as your fingers trace the line of his jaw, the motion as delicate as the emotions coursing through you.

“You’re so cute.” you murmur, your palm now resting on his cheek. He lets out a soft laugh, the sound vibrating through the air and settling somewhere deep in your chest. “No, you’re the cute one.” he counters, his tone playful but tender.

Before you can reply, his hands shift, traveling from your waist to the back of your thighs. In one swift, fluid motion, he lifts you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The sudden movement steals your breath, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you’re filled with a warmth that melts away any lingering hesitations.

A giggle escapes your lips, light and free, breaking through the tension like sunlight cutting through storm clouds. You're amused by his actions, but somehow, it all feels undeniably right. “There’s nothing like you, I swear.” you murmur, your laughter softening as your gaze locks onto his. Your eyes shine with an unspoken joy, the weight of your emotions finally finding their voice.

His hands tighten their grip, anchoring you to him as though letting go isn’t an option he’s willing to entertain. “Well...” he says, his gaze burning with a quiet intensity that leaves you breathless. “There’s nothing like us.”

And in that moment, you know he’s right. The journey to this point had been anything but easy... regular arguments, constant disagreements, misunderstandings that felt impossible to untangle and of course, a fake relationship. But somewhere in the chaos, you’d found something real. Something worth fighting for.

He tilts his head, his wet fingers brushing against your cheek with a reverence that makes your heart stutter. “I didn’t think I could let myself feel like this for someone.” he whispers. “But you... you’re everything I didn’t know I needed. You’re the person who makes everything make sense.” he smiles.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, not from pain or fear, but from the overwhelming joy of being seen, truly seen.

Somehow, his lips find yours again, slow and soft, the kiss carrying the weight of everything unspoken. It’s not rushed or desperate, it’s steady and sure, a promise of the future you’ll build together. Each moment feels endless, as if time itself has paused to honor the love blooming between you.

When you finally pull away, the world feels lighter, the air filled with possibility. “We’ve come a long way.” you say, wonder threading through your voice. His smile turns mischievous, his eyebrow quirking as his playful side reemerges. “From glaring at each other during meetings and passing snarky comments every 3 seconds... to this?” he teases, his laughter soft and contagious.

You roll your eyes, though the corners of your mouth lift in a smile. “I still think you’re insufferable sometimes.” you shrug.

“And I still think you’re stubborn.” he shoots back, his grin widening as he hugs your waist tighter. “But honestly, I think I can live with that.” you reply, your voice softening as your hand brushes against his nape, your touch tender.

“Good.” he whispers, pulling you into a warm embrace, the water rippling gently around you both. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

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