#UPDATED TEXT TO REFLECT THIS

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 24: i've got a head full of chemicals, mouth full of ridicule

Goodbye note

3471 Words; Acrobat & the Spider

TW for the arachnophobic peeps bc gisu is a spider

AO3 ver

Gisu pushed open the door to the ballroom.

Or, well, it used to be a ballroom, but with the webbing and ropes and trapeze filling it, it wasn’t much a ballroom now. Maybe a bigtop? Indoor circus tent, now that was an idea!

Dion was lying down in the middle of the floor, his arms out to his sides as he stared up at the ceiling. It was weird, to see him so still—as long as Gisu had known him (which was both shorter and longer than she expected, huh) he had always been moving in one way or another, always full of anxious energy.

Well, what little she could pick up of his thoughts—damn curse, cutting her powers in half—was still anxious, at least. But it was more than his baseline.

Gisu walked over, coming to a stop a few feet away from Dion. His eyes flicked over to her, briefly, before returning to the ceiling.

“You okay?” She asked, sitting down. Well, more like letting her abdomen rest against the floor, all four legs splayed out around her, but it was the closest one could get to sitting when they were a giant spider monster, so it still counted.

Dion’s eyes closed, and he exhaled slowly.

The silence stretched on. Gisu pulled some spare thread from her spinnerets, twisting it between all four of her hands. Even so, her brain kept buzzing, latching onto Dion’s anxiety and bouncing it around in her head.

“They shouldn’t be waiting on me.” Dion said, finally, still staring at the ceiling. “They shouldn’t—I’m twenty-two. They don’t need to wait on me.”

Gisu said nothing. What could she say? She was the one who had asked Dion to stay here.

“And it’s not like I don’t get it.” Dion continued, “They’re worried. They have every right to be. But—” He swallowed, exhaling sharply as his jaw tightened and his brow furrowed, “I’m fine. I’m fine, and they’re—” He turned his head to look at Gisu, long brown curls pooling on the floor around him. “They’re losing money trying to find me.”

Gisu’s hands stilled as guilt washed over her. She’d done this. She’d asked Dion to stay here, with her, and now he and his family (his family, who he cared about so much it hurt) were suffering for it. This was her fault.

She should say something, anything to relieve the stress permeating the room. The room that they had been laughing and flinging themselves across only a day ago, chasing each other around and around without ever touching the floor.

Dion sat up, his legs folded in front of him. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his forehead on his knees, the buzzing anxiety of his thoughts hitting a crescendo. The bracelet that Gisu had made for him glinted in the light, and Gisu struggled to swallow a fresh gulp of guilt.

The silence stretched on. Gisu raised a hand to her mouth, gingerly tracing the edge of a chelicerae. Her fur had tickled him, when they kissed.

(But he had persisted anyway.)

Her chest had fluttered, when they’d kissed. She had felt on top of the world, she had felt wanted and pretty—

It was far from fluttering now.

“I miss them.” Dion admitted, his voice cracking. “I miss them all so much.”

“I’m sorry.” Gisu wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. She’d done this. She’d asked him to stay. She’d separated Dion from his family. This was her fault.

“If there was just some way I could talk to them…” Dion stared off into space, his arms wrapped around himself as he slowly rocked in place. His head was a mess of static to what little psychic senses Gisu still had.

Gisu turned her head away. She couldn’t look at Dion right now.

(She had never wanted to stop looking at him, never wanted to let him go.)

“None of us can leave the mansion.” Gisu said. “Sam can only control animals within the walls.” They had thought to use her minions as a way to talk to the outside world, when the curse had first been cast. They’d quickly learned that there was no talking to the outside world.

Dion muttered something. Gisu only caught the words Lizzie and gossip and treats, but now Dion was staring off into space contemplatively.

None of them could leave the mansion. It was a fact of their curse that couldn’t be changed. There was no way for them to contact the outside world—chances were it had long moved on without them, moved on while they were all stuck.

“Maybe…” Dion stood, snapping Gisu from her spiral. He was snapping his hand like he was trying to jog his memory, long legs powering him in a quick pace around the room. “That might work.” He muttered.

Gisu tilted her head. “What might work?” God, she could watch him for hours like this, full of energy. He already made for great background noise when she was working, rambling and muttering and moving—but when he had an idea? When his eyes lit up and he started walking on his hands trying to think through a problem? It was fascinating.

Dion didn’t respond, too lost in whatever he was thinking as he made his way out towards the door. Gisu managed to catch the image of a letter in his mind—and then he was gone.

Gisu huffed, annoyance briefly overriding her guilt. He could let her help! Maybe he had gotten it in his head that he had to handle it all on his own—Gisu was no stranger to that kind of thinking, loathe as she was to admit it.

Gisu frowned, and looked back up at the ceiling. Maybe Dion was right to want to do this—whatever it was—himself, she thought, as she looked at the webbing and rope strung up across the room, at the giant improvised trapeze. It had started as Dion’s project, when Gisu had handed the room over to him to do with as he wished—and then she had gotten her grubby hands all over it and added webs all over. And it had been fun, running around up there, her spider paws gripping the ceiling while Dion flipped from perch to perch like a budgie on crack—

But was this what Dion had envisioned, when he’d started building his makeshift trapeze? Or had he wanted something closer to the home that he missed? Were her additions even wanted at all?

(He had kissed her like he wanted it, like he wanted her—

She wanted him. She wanted him to want her. And not just to break the curse.)

Gisu had asked him to stay—with the (false, but he still fell for it) threat of keeping his younger brother instead—and he had stayed, but it wasn’t fair. Not to Dion. Not to anyone.

Gisu clenched her hands into fists. “I did this.” It was just like her, really—always screwing up in one way or another. Whatever Dion was planning to do with his letter, it was only because Gisu had asked him to stay.

“What would you even do?” She asked the door. What was Dion even planning? There wasn’t really a way to get the letter out of the forest. None of them could leave the mansion.

Gisu paused. None of them could leave the mansion—

None of them except Dion. Dion, who had agreed to stay on Gisu’s request, but who wasn’t beholden to the curse. Dion, who loved his family so much it almost hurt to hear him talk about them. Dion, who Gisu wanted so badly just because he made her feel wanted—

Gisu stood. She had messed up, but that was just part of being an engineer.

It was time she did something to fix the mess she’d caused.

+=+=+=+=+

Am I really going to do this?

Gisu wrung her hands—all four of them. All of her fur was standing on end, all of her senses screaming danger at her. Yet still, here she was, one of her hind legs twitching in anticipation.

Still, she had to do this. It was for the best.

Steeling her nerves, Gisu pushed open the study door. There were quite a few studies in the mansion, truth be told, but there was only one that was really used regularly. And she could faintly feel Dion’s mental print in there, so it wasn’t even a guess—she knew he was in there.

And there he was, hunched over balancing on his toes in a chair, writing something on a piece of paper—the letter Gisu had seen in his thoughts?

Dion looked up at her entrance. He blinked, looking like a deer in headlights for half a moment before his face split into a wide grin. “Hey, Паучок.”

Gisu almost snorted at the nickname—almost. She couldn’t let herself get distracted; she had a job to do. She maneuvered into the room with some difficulty—truly, this mansion was not quite built for giant spider monsters—and stood there, trying to gather the words.

Dion turned back to the desk.

Right. It was now or never. If Gisu didn’t do this now, she’d never find the courage. “You need to leave.” Gisu started. It was for the best, really—Dion deserved better than some run-down mansion and a monster who only messed everything up.

Dion looked at her, his brow furrowed. “Why?” And oh, there went Gisu’s resolve—

No! She could still do this! It was for the best, even if it hurt!

“You can’t stay here.” Gisu continued, wringing her inferior hands nervously. “You shouldn’t stay here.” Dion wasn’t the kind of guy who could just leave his family behind, he deserved to see them again and put all of this behind him—

“What are you talking about?” Dion had come to stand in front of her, his hand cupping Gisu’s face just behind her chelicerae. “Is there some kind of danger?”

Gisu pulled away and shook her head. “Please, Dion.” She urged. “You need to leave. You need to go home.” Because this wasn’t his home, this was just a building she’d trapped him in, and he deserved so much better than some monster who only wanted him around to break her curse.

“What’s gotten into you?” Dion’s thoughts were quickly becoming static stress against Gisu’s head. She wished she could see all of his thoughts, could understand how he felt about this—no, that was invasive. Just another way that Gisu messed everything up.

“I’ve had some realizations, that’s all.” Gisu explained. “It’s not fair for you to be stuck here.” Not with her.

Dion frowned. “Gisu, I promised to stay here—”

Gisu grasped his hands in her superiors, her inferior hands still wringing. “But your family—”

Dion’s face fell. He looked away. “It’ll work out. They’re strong.” He murmured. A moment later, he looked back at her, resolve in his eyes. “I’m going to let them know I’m okay, or they’ll give up and move on.”

“But you miss them,” Gisu stressed, “You’re homesick, Dion, don’t try to deny it.” Dion needed to get out of here. It was for the best.

“Of course I’m homesick!” Dion leaned in closer, “But it’s okay, okay? I’m an Aquato. I can make this mansion home.” His eyes closed, and he ran his thumbs over Gisu’s hands.

Gisu pulled her hands away. “No you can’t.” She muttered.

“And why not?” Dion put his hands on his hips, “Why can’t I stay here?” He crossed his arms. “Well?”

“You need to leave.” Gisu repeated. It was for the best. “You should be home, with your family.” She stressed. “Please.”

“What part of ‘I’m okay here’ are you not getting?” Dion grit out. “Gisu, I’m not trapped here. Not with you.”

The words hit Gisu like a hammer. She flinched back, all of her resolve leaving her—

No. No, Dion needed to leave. It was for the best.

“No, you don’t get it!” Gisu grabbed Dion’s shoulders in her superior hands. “You’re not supposed to be here, Dion, you’re not supposed to be trapped in his hellhole with me.” She stared him down, all but begging him to just give up, “You could have left at any point. You should have left at any point.” He shouldn’t be here, stuck in this decaying mansion with her. It was for the best for him to leave. It was for the best.

Dion grasped her inferior hands in his. “But your curse—”

“Enough about the curse!” Gisu shouted. Like it would ever break, anyway. “You couldn’t break it even if you tried.” Wait, no, that wasn’t what she meant to say—

Dion’s eyes widened. “Then what was the point of me staying here?” He asked, his voice starting to rise in pitch. “What, are you not actually cursed and you’ve just been lying this whole time?”

“Maybe I have!” Gisu tore her hands away from his, throwing all four of them into the air. “It doesn’t matter!” Yes, good, she needed him to get angry, needed him to leave before she broke something she couldn’t fix. She loomed over him, straightening her forelegs to get as much height as she could—they were about eye-level, now.

“It doesn’t matter.” She shoved out at him with her superior arms. “Leave.”

Dion stumbled back several steps. “Gisu?” He sounded so small.

“You heard me.” Gisu growled. “Get out.” It was for the best. It was for the best to let Dion go.

“What is wrong with you?!” Dion shouted. “First you’re all over me and now you’re telling me to leave?” At once, his anger fell, worry filling his features. “Mio cara, what’s going on?”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Gisu’s anger hit a fever pitch. She shoved, knocking Dion bodily to the floor and following him down. “You idiot.” She growled, her voice threatening to crack. Her eyes stung. She planted her superior hands to the sides of Dion’s head. “You shouldn’t BE HERE!” It was for the best.

Dion stared up at her with wide eyes. His chest heaved.

Gisu leaned in closer, all of her thoughts falling away. “I could crush your head.” She growled, “Right between my mandibles.” She grabbed his jaw with one of her inferior hands, holding it harshly. “I could bite you and you’d die from the venom in my fangs.” She tightened her grip, drawing a small gasp from Dion. “I could kill you. You shouldn’t be here.” She let go of Dion’s jaw. His head fell back to the floor, and his eyes slipped shut as he wheezed a shuddered exhale.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Gisu asked, her anger pounding in her skull. “Of course it does—I’m a monster.” She grinned, anger baring her teeth. “So leave.”

Dion stared up at her, his eyes wide.

“Run away.” Gisu snarled, still looming over Dion. “Run away to your real family and let them make it all better for you.” She leaned in closer—

The room spun as Dion’s fist slammed into her face, forcing her up and backwards. Dion scrambled out from under Gisu as she held her head in her hands, stars dancing across her vision.

She looked up at him. Dion had a hand held over his mouth, absolute horror in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I didn’t mean—”

Gisu growled. “Get out.”

Dion wasted no more time arguing with her.

His footsteps faded out down the hallway, on and on until Gisu couldn’t hear them, couldn’t feel the vibrations in her legs.

She exhaled shakily, and stood.

The room was so quiet, now.

Still, Gisu reminded herself as she made her way to the door, it was for the best.

Even if it didn’t feel like it.

+=+=+=+=+

Gisu grunted, driving her screwdriver into the head of the screw. Taking things apart and putting them back together was supposed to be therapeutic. And it was, but—

Gisu growled, burying those thoughts. It was her fault, anyway—she was the one who went and got attached to something she could never have.

“Uh, hey, Gisu?” The radio next to her workstation crackled to life, Morris’ voice coming in steady. “Why did Dion just climb over the wall?”

Gisu regarded the radio for a moment, before returning to the broken clock in her hands. “He left.” She said.

The radio was silent for a moment.

“Wh—why?” Morris asked. “I thought he was all over you?”

“He got homesick.” Gisu explained, “So he left.” It was for the best, anyway. Dion deserved so much better than a monster.

“Okay, no way.” The radio crackled. “I know what it sounds like when you’re hiding something.” Morris accused, “So spill.”

“I made him leave, is that what you wanted?” Gisu threw one of her superior hands out as she spoke. “He was better off back with his family, anyway!”

There was silence for a moment. Then—

“Gisu.” Morris’ voice was edged with incredulity. “What the fuck.”

Gisu grumbled. “It’s over.” She muttered. “He’s gone.”

“No, genuinely,” Morris continued, like Gisu hadn’t spoken at all, “What is wrong with you?”

Gisu froze. “What are you talking about?” She’d fixed the problem. It was for the best.

“I’m talking about the fact that you chased away the one good chance of breaking the curse because what, you were too afraid to confront your own feelings?” Morris’ voice crackled with static, like nails against the chalkboard of Gisu’s ears. “Oh, sure,” He went on, “You’ll read all your romance novels, write all your silly self-insert fanfiction, but the moment you find yourself caring about something that isn’t mechanical you get too scared to do anything but shove it all away.”

Gisu snarled. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Dion’s family was important to him, it wasn’t fair to keep him here—

“Ha!” Morris snorted. “Please! You barely even care about the rest of us!” He accused, the dials on the radio darting back and forth. “I bet the only reason you care about me is because you can just pretend I’m another one of your stupid machines!”

Gisu gasped. “I care!”

“Really?” Even without a body, Morris’ agitation came through loud and clear. “Because I’m pretty sure chasing away the one solid chance for me to get my body back is the opposite of caring!” The radio made a slamming noise, then a string of honks and whistles—Morris was getting really worked up, now.

“We’re all cursed!” Gisu slammed her inferior hands on the table. She crossed her superior arms, giving up on the broken clock laid out before her. “Stop making this about yourself!”

Morris’ voice was incredulous. “I’m the one making this about myself? Have you looked in a mirror?” He huffed, “Of course you haven’t.” He muttered. “Because then maybe Lizzie could knock some sense into you.”

“I’m not the one who needs sense knocked into them.” Gisu shot back. “I keep this mansion running, you know!” She started counting on her fingers. “I keep the lights powered, I keep the heaters from falling apart—I’m the one who makes sure all these radios actually work!” Yeah, Adam and Sam handled the firewood and keeping the mirrors clean, but still. Without Gisu, there’d be nobody to power and fix the radios.

“That doesn’t mean you get to chase away the one chance we had of getting uncursed, Gis!” Morris yelled back. “You don’t get to make that decision for us!”

“Oh, like there won’t be other chances.” Gisu snarled through gritted teeth. “You don’t need to be so impatient.”

Morris sighed. “I want my body back, Gisu.” His voice was heavy with grief. “I want to be able to see colors again, and not just my own noise reflected back at me.” The radio clattered. “But you don’t get that, do you? You still have your body.” He laughed hollowly. “Your curse is that you’re ugly.” Morris remarked, “And the guy you liked didn’t even care about that.” The radio went silent, then, leaving Morris’ remark to hang in the air like smoke.

Gisu yelled, sweeping the radio off of its stand. It fell to the floor with a clatter, but remained silent.

Gisu stared at it, her chest heaving. Her throat got tight, all four of her eyes started to sting—

Fuck. As much as she wanted to deny it, Morris was right. She’d messed up. She’d messed everything up.

Gisu let herself fall to the floor, arms curling around herself. “Fuck.” She sobbed.

She’d fucked up. But it was too late, now—Dion had already crossed the outer walls. There was nothing Gisu could do to fix the mess she made.

She laughed darkly. “At least I can’t fuck it up worse.” Doing so would be hard—even for her.

That fact wasn’t a comfort.

[kanoyachi]

commission info!

hello, here's updated commission info! dm me to commission :]

if you have any questions about what i will or won't draw, would like something that isn't displayed, or a work in a style that isn't here, don't hesitate to DM me or send me an ask! i'm happy to answer any questions. check out #my art or @kenmasdysphoriahoodie more examples of my work. elaborated payment, process, and usage information under the cut:

payment:

through either Ko-Fi or PayPal

for safety on both ends, i need to receive half of the payment before starting the piece, and will accept the other half upon completing the piece.

process:

please be able to provide or direct me to subject references if it's a person or character i am not familiar with. if it's an original character with no physical representation, please be able to describe them in detail! this is to ensure the best possible work.

i will consult with you throughout the process of drawing a piece: first to show possible compositions you can choose from, then with the sketch, then lineart, then the final piece. don't hesitate to request additional details or changes within the style of the commission after seeing the sketch!

if you request additional details that change the category the commission exists in, i will add extra charges. for example, if you request additional details that take a background from simple to complex, i will request additional payment to make up the difference ($17 USD)

please provide an email address that i can send to file of the finished work to.

usage:

commissioned artwork is free for your personal use. if you make anything physical with it, please show me! I would love to see.

do not claim the work as your own or sell it.

i will be signing works with kanoyachi, although in an unobtrusive way.

[starlightkun]

I just binge read your ayakashi series and am currently giddy over it. How each route expands on the characters in ways I could not have possibly predicted from the prologue is immensely fun(jaehyuns was hilarious) and the setting overall is so cute and magical! If you ever want to post about it again, be that the planning doc or an update, I will be delighted(no need if you don't want to tho!)Thank you for sharing the beautiful words in your brain with us :D

hi, i didn't mean to leave this unanswered for so long, sorry! been having a time at work. thank you so much for reading and send such a wonderful ask, im rlly so happy ppl r still finding ayakashi. honestly, i do think it's time for me to finally let go of that world. i've been holding out on posting the planning doc in hopes that i'll return, but i think it's time.

so here's the planning doc finally, if anybody was still waiting for it. all 91 pages of it. lots of good stuff in there, including the first 5k of yuta's route that i never finished, an entire 6k flashback scene for sicheng's route, and outlines and other various scenes and tidbits for every other finished and unfinished route.

thanks so much to everyone who read and showed me love on ayakashi over the years, y'all made it so much fun. i know this kinda sounds like im saying goodbye, but only to this series, im still gonna be here writing just like i've always been, promise!

[svtskneecaps]

quests are updated!!

blue: 4k pumpkin pie, 2.5k candles, 2k nether quartz ore

green: 12k campfires, 96k cookies, 6k blaze powder

yellow: 31.5k ice, 24k magma blocks, 6k carrot on a stick

and the texts i sent my sibling just for fun

[izzy-b-hands]

I truly fucking hate how some of these side gig tasks are formatted/instructed. Your shit doesn't make sense; the field you claim exists for me to type in isn't there (if it is, it's greyed out and there's no way to change that on my end) and I appreciate a room full of tech bros doesn't want to take five minutes to have an arts/english major read over and edit their shitty instructions so they're actually something a person can comprehend without reading it over five times, but also. Fuck them; it would not take that long and the money you're wasting on this project won't be any less wasted if you pay someone to proofread your shit that's an actual human, and not an AI.

[cyrantelnovapaleorayeeso]

ur resident character pronoun collector here

evangelos - it (seems to be a direct translation from a chinese word which someone said is used by nonbinary ppl? but correct me if its wrong), she (designer notes, i dont have the reflection but someone else mentioned it), he (literally ONCE, wouldnt be surprised if it was just a typo....u know how these go)

nephiliet - she, it (i dont think they use it as much for nephiliet as they do evangelos)

[saturdays--sun]

it's that time of the year where i completely overhaul my entire carrd again 😔

[jack-of-amulets]

just a little heads up i do post some stuff involving other variations of me(? ig) but i will tag it accordingly so you can block it if you need to

[requiemforthepoets]

you say good morning, when it's midnight ⟢ OP81 (part 2)

main masterlist | fic playlist | series masterlist

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and oscar grew up together, and despite being neighbors and best friends with her sister, hattie, you never really talked or had a conversation with him. until one day, where he randomly texted you out of nowhere.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: use of y/n, inaccurate information, fluff, timestamps are all irrelevant, a little bit of a slow burn, reader is a little bit ball of mess, weird, awkward, and unhinged, and minor typographical errors

WORD COUNT: none

AUTHOR'S NOTE: part 2! i know i have a few series that i need to update, but atm i don't have the drive or motivation to update it yet. writing narration sucks the whole energy out of me, but don't worry! i'll eventually update it, so pls bear with me. hope you'll enjoy this new update!

𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

yn.jpg has posted a story!

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𓆉𓆝𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

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[baby-yongbok]

Texts w/ your Secret Boyfriend

Idol!Kim Seungmin x Songwriter!Afab!Reader

⤷ Fluff | boyfriend!Seungmin x Songwriter/producer!girlfriend | [Still MDNI] ⤷ Content Count: 29 Screenshots, 13 Conversations ⤷ a/n: sorry for the delay with this series. my to-do list is overloaded & right now I'm working on my follower event but, anyway, the series continues! (also, fun fact, you can tell when the conversation changes to a new one by the time at the top) + This is a work of fiction is is not meant to reflect the idols real life relationships or values ♡

Secret Boyfriend Series: Chan , Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix , Seungmin , I.N

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Note: If you want to be tagged in any updates for this series you must have an age indicator on your account

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❥Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

❥ All Content Taglist is Closed! Still open for fake texts!

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Series Tag List: @seungmyynie @velvetmoonlght @hanniemylovelyquokka @turtledove824 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts

[myyluverr]

⟢. BABY COME BACK TO ME — jake sim

Nine months after the breakup, you're gradually healing and letting go of the past. You and your friends decide to attend a concert together. However, when a certain song plays, it hits you hard, enabling you to break the no-contact rule with your ex— Sim Jaeyun.

tags. ✦ Sim Jaeyun x f!reader, feminine pronouns used, toxic relationship, p in v, vaginal sēx, squirting, soft dom Jake, jealousy, mention of e-cigarette, mild mention of masturbation using the other person's clothes, semi-dirty talk, cheating mentioned ??, smut, one night stand, past misunderstandings, make-up break-up. wc. ✦ 3.9k

The past few months have left you shattered. Although you are doing well now, you still think about him a lot. It’s hard to move on from the past when you never had proper closure. All you can remember are the screaming, cursing, and crying—a jumbled mess that you can no longer piece together from that night.

You thought that you’d both be fine by the morning, but he never came home. He ghosted you, probably fed up with the constant misunderstandings, emotional disconnection, and lack of trust.

You never called him, too blinded by your pride to take any action. You believed he was in the wrong, so you didn’t reach out. He never called, texted, or even showed up at your door to say he was sorry like he usually did. This left you feeling suspicious and a bit scared. However, your anger clouded your judgment, and you held your breath instead of reaching out.

Then after a few weeks of no contact. You finally received an update on his Instagram. Unfortunately, you blocked his number and unfollowed him a few days ago in a fit of anger, which means you're now stuck stalking him from a different account.

He posted a picture of a girl, her face not clearly visible, but it was obvious that he had taken her out to a fancy dinner at the restaurant where he used to always take you. You were furious, but you managed to keep your emotions in check.

It was a difficult situation for you; your apartment was still cluttered with his belongings and the gifts he had given you. You couldn't bring yourself to throw them away, so they remained in your space for a few months.

You often thought about the countless times you both planned your life after college—how you would move in together and how his dog, Layla, would play with your future little girl’s hair. You imagined how she would inherit his face and temper, running around like him, while also possessing your empathy and your way of singing to Layla.

As you sat by the water in your bathtub, soaked and reflecting on your past, you smiled at the memories. Watching your tears fall into the water, you felt a bittersweet connection to those moments you once cherished.

As the months passed, you began to heal and partially move on. You occupied yourself with lectures, thesis papers, and working out, seeking distractions. Yet, there were moments when you would hug yourself to sleep, wrapped in his old hoodie that still carried the scent of his cologne, and sometimes you would touch yourself, imagining it was him instead.

No one noticed that a part of you still clung to the hope that he would come back. Now that exam season is over, summer break has arrived, and you have returned to your family, spending quality time with them at the beach. You snapped a few pictures in your bikini, emphasizing your curves, secretly hoping one of his friends would see your post and send it to him.

You weren't desperate—well, maybe just a little. After all, who could blame you? His friends still text you from time to time, and you're still close with them up to now. They would drop small updates about his life, mentioning how he’s happily dating someone new.

It hurt to hear how quickly he had moved on, especially after you both shared three years together, planning for a future that now felt distant. The fact that he had moved on in just two months was hard to accept. Knowing his friends, theyd anticipated your reactions. You tried to appear unbothered and indifferent, but deep down, you cared greatly.

Your best friend, Yunjin, invited you to go to a concert with her and a few other friends. With nothing else to do at home, you agreed. The band performing was Yunjin's favorite, and you hadn’t fully explored your music taste yet, only really listening to artists like Doja Cat, Lana, and Jhené Aiko.

By the time the concert began at 9 PM, you were having fun. The music was amazing, and you found yourself relating to some of the songs—it was a great vibe. Then, when they started the next song, "Back to Me," you felt an immediate connection to the lyrics, as if the song had been written just for you.

Is she all that you want?

Is she all that you need?

I’d be there in a hurry,

Baby, come back to me.

You were already singing along with the band, recording a video to post on your story later. Feeling overwhelmed, Yunjin decided it was time for a bathroom break since they were playing a song that wasn't a fan favorite. You probably wouldn't enjoy it, so there you were in the bathroom with your best friend, discussing how much you related to the lyrics.

It seemed like she dragged you to this concert to remind you of him and all the memories you shared. You had promised yourself that you wouldn't reach out to him anymore and would try to move forward, even though you still missed him.

You just hoped the night would end without you being the one to break contact first.

After a long bathroom break, you returned to your seats, and the music was already playing. As you both settled in, you took in the lyrics, trying to process what she was singing about.

“Sing it with me ya’ll. If you want your ex back, sing it,” the lead vocalist said with a smile, glancing back at her ex while strumming the guitar. Her ex, being the drummer in the back, returned her a smile.

Come on don’t leave me, it can’t be that easy babe.

If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane.

Fly to your city excited to see your face,

Hold me, console me, and then I'll leave without a trace.

“I’ll give you permission to call back your ex.”

That was your breaking point; you contemplated whether to call him or not. You had his number blocked and had unfollowed him on Instagram. Unfortunately, you had no way to contact him. The only option was to unblock him.

But isn’t he already in a relationship? He seems happy as it is, and you wouldn’t want to interfere, ruining his peace. Yet, deep down, you long for closure. After months of suffering, you wish to hear him say that things are good between the two of you. You want to hear it directly from him.

You made up your mind. With everyone distracted, vibing to the song and some even calling their exes, you thought, "Fuck it, it’s fine." You decided to unblock his number and immediately pressed the FaceTime Audio button as his number rang.

Fortunately, your friends were too engrossed in the concert and didn’t notice. You felt a twinge of guilt for breaking your promise never to call him again, as the phone pressed against your ear, it continued to ring without an answer.

“Hello?”

For the first time in months, you finally heard his voice again. I mean, you did hear his voice sometime, because you’d see him on the campus yet you avoided him. And also because you'd stalk his stories on Instagram.

Jake was confused; an unknown caller was ringing him in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. He wondered if it might be a friend or perhaps his older brother calling him drunk in the middle of the night again. Still groggy from sleep, all he wanted to do was hang up and toss his phone back onto the bed.

He groaned and muttered to himself, “Who is this? Why are you calling me at midnight? Is this a prank—”

“It’s me. How… are you?” You said you felt nervous, as your voice was somewhat muffled by the loud music blasting in the background. Jake immediately sat up, his eyes widening at the sound of your voice. He tried to remain calm, but worry crept in—why else would you be calling him after nine months of no contact? He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Are you okay? Why did you call me?” he asked with a sigh.

“I’m fine. I just…” You hesitated, searching for a convincing excuse for your call. “I wanted to hear your voice again.”

Jake hummed in response. He wanted to say that he missed you deeply, but he held back. After your breakup, he had acted on impulse, believing that you would be better off without him. It had become too toxic, so he decided to leave. Ghosting you hadn’t been easy, especially given that you called and texted him nonstop.

He took a random girl out on a date just to post it on his story, knowing that you would see it. After that, you blocked him, which was for the best. But now, you’re crawling your way back to him.

The line was silent; you could hear his breathing, and he could hear the muffled sounds of music and people singing along. “Where are you right now?” Jake asked softly, wanting to make sure you were okay.

“I’m in a concert with my friends,” Fuck it, “…I missed you.”

Jake’s heart softened, feeling conflicted. All his efforts to make you stay away from him so you could be with someone better went in vain. Fuck it too, “I missed you too, baby. How have you been?”

Your stomach twisted in misery. He would have never known how much you had suffered over the past few months without him. You were supposed to hate him, to curse him right now, but you didn't. You just missed him; you missed what you once had together. Before you could even blink, hot, salty tears began to fall down your cheeks as you sniffled.

“God, I miss you so much that I fucking hate you. I’m sorry; please come back to me. I—” All the effort you put into trying to forget him over the past nine months flew out the window the moment you started begging him to come back to you.

Jake felt a surge of guilt as he cursed himself for what he had done. He never imagined it would end like this. "Baby, calm down. Send me your location, and I’ll come pick you up… We can talk about it afterward," he said. You took a deep breath, dried your tears, and hung up.

After a few moments, you told your friends you were going home early. As you stepped out of the venue, you spotted his car in the parking lot. It was a chilly night. The lights illuminating the concrete ground, songs can still be heard from outside of the venue, but you only focused on walking towards him.

Jake was leaning against the car, smoking his e-cigarette, grey hoodie up, while he looked at the ground as smoke came out of his mouth, left hand in his sweatpants pocket. He looked up as he heard your footsteps on the pavement.

It’s been months since you both last looked at each other face-to-face, and you hesitated when you approached him. Your eyes met as your tears ran down your face, and you felt cold. Walking a little faster towards him as you couldn't control it, Jake just watched you and opened his arms hugging you in the process.

His hand securely wrapped around your waist, and the other on your head. You buried your face on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne that you missed so much. At this point, his hoodie was wet from the tears you shed, and he rubbed his hand up and down your back comforting you.

“Baby, you cold?” he asked. You nodded as he gently pulled you closer and took off his hoodie, handing it to you. Fuck, you missed this scent of his cologne so bad. It drove you crazy. He drove you back to his apartment, which he had recently moved into. It was a bit messy but cozy, and you could see the nearby park through the medium-sized glass windows. His place was on the sixth floor.

During the drive home, you both talked about life and reminisced about what you missed. The conversation felt warm and comfortable, not awkward at all. You shared how you had been doing over the past few months, and he opened up about his experiences too.

Once you arrived, Jake made you sit down on the couch. You planned on staying the night—maybe it wasn't the best idea to sleep over at your ex’s place, but you didn’t care. All you wanted was him. The nine months of craving him had built up to this moment, and you desperately wished for him to take you and fuck you on the couch.

He insisted on getting you water and clothes so you could get comfortable while you crashed at his place. You stood up and wandered around, noticing the decorations he had added since your last visit. You saw the items you had given him still there, which meant he had kept them. However, you also noticed some women's clothes in the corner.

“Are you dating someone new?” you asked as Jake placed the neatly folded clothes on the couch.

“Curious?” he smirked, walking over to you. You picked up a discarded bra from the pile and glanced over to see him leaning toward you, arms crossed, a playful grin on his handsome face.

“I'd be lying if I said no,” Jake said, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in to place his lips near your ear. “Not at the moment, but I’ve had a few hook-ups with the same girl until now.”

Lies, it wasn't true. He still couldn't get over you, and after trying to get into a relationship, he failed. Which led him to crawl back to your old stuff, jerking off using your old underwear that you left in his old apartment so when you stayed over you had clothes to wear.

He also found out that Jay and Heeseung kept updating you about him. And you didn't really care, so he set up a fake story about him dating someone new just to see your reaction.

What the fuck? You knew you shouldn't care since you had separated months ago, but why were you feeling so jealous right now? All you could think about was burning those clothes, blocking her number from his phone, and telling him that you were officially back together again.

“So the clothes are hers?” you asked, throwing the used bra back into the pile. Tilting your head to the side, glancing up at him.

“You don't recognize them?” Jake asked, looking bewildered. He chuckled as he took the bra from your hands and tossed them back into the pile. To be honest, they were all yours. Jake just couldn't bring himself to throw those clothes away because they belonged to you. So, they remained untouched there.

You were dumbfounded. Why would he ask such a stupid question? He had that stupid grin on his face that makes you just want to shut him up with a kiss. You simply shook your head in response. Jake kissed the back of your neck, then moved to your shoulder, kissing it gently.

“You need to rest. The bathroom is over there,” Jake said as he separated himself from you, pointing to the bathroom in the far left corner. You nodded and picked up the folded clothes he had placed earlier on the couch.

A few minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom wearing his clothes, your makeup removed, and your face washed and refreshed. Jake was sitting on the couch, watching a sitcom. Blankets were ready, and pillows were neatly tucked and arranged on the couch.

The next thing you know, you're sitting on his lap, grinding against him as you both share a messy, sloppy kiss. His hands are on your waist as he switches your positions. Now Jake is pinning you down against the cushions of the couch, kissing you hungrily while his hands roam your body.

His hands are creeping inside your shirt, pinching and caressing your hard nipples underneath his fingers. You moaned at the feeling, biting his tongue in the process as he hissed.

Jake’s lips were soft and plump. You couldn't help but bite his lower lip as he groaned at the feeling of your teeth nibbling his lip until it bled a little.

“I missed you so much—” He moaned in the messy kiss, hands roaming everywhere on your body. Both of your tongues are clashing with one another, panting as it both leave you breathless, wanting more as the string of saliva falls on your chin.

Jake wrapped your legs around his waist as he removed his shirt, tossing it somewhere across the room. He then took off the sweatpants you were wearing, also throwing them into the corner. You figured you would clean up later anyway, and since he doesn't have a roommate, you have the apartment to yourselves for the night.

Fortunately, you weren't wearing any underwear. You had taken them off earlier and thrown them into his laundry basket. Jake lifted your shirt, revealing your torso as he continued trailing his kisses down your neck to your chest, leaving marks in his wake.

Jake sucked on your nipples, while his other hand groped your other breast, squeezing them. Biting the bud with just enough pressure for pleasure; it was a little painful, but the feeling made your back arch as your hands flew into his hair, gripping it tightly.

You’re already soaking wet down there, especially when his bulge is pressing on your bare pussy. A wet spot is already forming on his sweatpants, pre-cum already dripping down his slit as he sucks on your tits.

“Fuck I’ve—” Jake huffed, looking up at you as he licked your nipple, sucking on your boob afterwards like a starved man. “I’ve been waiting for this. Fuck.” He groaned as you moaned hard, the clasping of your fingers on his hair made his dick twitch.

God, you wanted Jake to fuck you so hard on the couch. You’ve waited for this moment the entire time. You missed him a lot— especially his dick, his mouth, and his hands. “Shit, can you just fuck me already?” Grabbing him by the hair, pulling his mouth back from your tits. You furrowed your eyebrows, commanding him to just take fuck you already.

Jake didn't hesitate for a moment, he was already panting, and the ache in his dick was unmatched. He straight-up pulled his dick out of its confinement, stroking it fast for a few seconds before lining it up with your throbbing pussy. Rubbing it against your hole, collecting the slick coming out of your pussy to lubricate it, mixed with his pre-cum.

“I’m clean, you don’t gotta worry, babe,” Jake said groaning, biting his lip to suppress a moan as he slowly inserted his flushed tip inside of you. Sheathing it in, stretching your tight cunt. You moaned loudly at the stretch, intoxicated by his thick girth penetrating you.

The stretch was agonizing, it was the first time in 9 months that you had been filled with something that was not your own fingers. You whined as he continued his assault on your pussy, rolling his dick in and out of you slowly, just to stretch you out more.

“Babe, d-dont… clench that much, shit.” Jake took a deep breath as you clenched hard on his shaft. It was halfway in, to make things easier, Jake kissed you to ease your pain and rubbed circles on your clit. Trying to overstimulate for you to loosen up more.

Finally, he could move more. Your warmth swallows him whole down till the hilt of his pelvis. He was about to go limp inside your pussy, “Shit baby, I fucking m-missed your pussy so much— feels s-so fucking good.”

Jake moved slowly, licking his lips moaning, and trying not to cum so early just being inside your pussy. You moaned at the feeling, gripping his biceps as you left scratch marks on them. He captured your lips in a feverish kiss, tongue exploring your mouth, re-memorizing all of the corners.

While he devours your mouth, Jake unhurriedly rolls his hips waiting for your signal for him to speed up. Then you tapped his arm with your finger 3 times, signaling him to fasten his pace. Jake was already panting from the kiss, and now he’s pounding his hips onto you like there's no tomorrow.

You moaned repeatedly, chanting his name like a prayer. Jake pulled out of the kiss, shamelessly moaning in your ear, whispering about how good your pussy felt, and that there is no other like this. “This pussy made just f’me, yeah?”

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby, you tryna break my dick in half?” He says, while moaning helplessly in your ear, licking his lips and biting them in the process. You could feel his hot breath while he pants, stroking his dick fast inside you. Jake is constantly good at three things: Eating you out, fucking you, and making sure you’ve creamed on his dick.

Tonight, he’s determined to make you cum so hard that you end up spasming on his dick. Just a little apology for the last 9 months, don't worry he’ll make it up to you after.

Your walls are clinging to his dick more now, like you're afraid to let him go. Jake could tell that you're close to cumming, he was too. “You close baby? You gonna cum on this dick like a good girl?” he said pulling away from you as he slaps your clit, his thrusts are now frantic, you could feel every vein of his dick, tip hitting your cervix then your g-spot as you moan. Feeling closer than ever to your release.

“You fuckin’ look so good in your Instagram post it drives me fuckin nuts that I can’t fuck you while wearin’ those.”

The slick oozing out of your fucked out pussy, coating his shaft as it trickles down his balls and onto the couch. A white ring made out of cum is forming at the base of his dick, still ramming inside you hard making you scream. Jake was already sweaty, panting as he chased your release, all he wanted right now was to make you cum on his dick, before he could cum himself.

So he went back to rubbing your clit in circles, you swore you’re about to squirt on him from the overstimulation. Nevertheless, you’ve never done that, it’d be such a milestone for Jake if you did.

With the overwhelming pressure on your clit, as his tip rammed on your G-spot, you cried hard. Squirming in Jake’s hold, it was too much, your legs started to shake, feeling the heat pool down in there, as his dick pulsated inside of you, also ready for release.

You couldn't take it anymore, reaching your climax as your legs convulsed, pussy spasming on his dick. Clencing hard repeatedly, as your pussy flutters at his hard on. Jake is still ramming his dick on your g-spot, playing with your bud still, waiting for you to squirt.

You’re already a disheveled, crying mess under him. He went faster, determined to make you squirt. And finally— you did. White liquid is coming out of your bud, spraying on his abdomen and dick as he stops moving, but he still continues playing with it, milking you out fully.

Cum was everywhere, and he intended to add more. Jake pulled out after you came, releasing a pop when he took his dick out of your pussy dripping in your cum. He fisted himself a few times before hanging his mouth out, eyes closed, shooting his release on your stomach.

“I’ll clean you up,” Jake said after a few minutes of rest. You still felt dazed after being fucked so good, and all you wanted was to cuddle with him, just like you used to when you were together.

Just as he was about to leave, you pulled him back by his arm, making him come closer to you. “Just do it tomorrow, Jakey.” His heart raced, smelling like an idiot; he loved it when you called him Jakey. He knew you were upset when you used his first name or his last name.

Jake didn’t comply, instead smiling happily, like a dog wagging its tail at its owner when it hears the word treats. You opened your arms, welcoming him as he came closer. Now you both are simply continuing from where you left off.

𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 ⟢. © myyluverr 2025

note. ✦ IM SORRH IT TOOK ME LIKE 3 DAYS OR 4 TO WRITE THIS CUZ I WAS SO BUSYYY, But I rlly got inspired by the Mariás for that one time when Maria said thise lines lol its real. I’ll flex that I was a The Mariás fan since 2019, OG HEREEE!! I’ll add a link for the things I found inspired bu this oneshot smut, ok bye I’m finishing this at 11 pm and I rlly need sleep I still need to finish my thesis paper 💔

⟢. LINK 1, LINK 2

[cyrantelnovapaleorayeeso]

i know we dont have the recent anni event yet and i havent been reading reflections or the story but WHAT DO YOU MEAN MARINA IS TRYING TO MURDER AEON

[senioryearsstuff]

September 6th

My current study schedule is not working. Currently, I have a qualitative journal entry and two modules that I need to complete by Friday. The hurricane week may have messed with my premeditated schedules, but without the practice of the routine, it has become unmanageable. Addressing this before it becomes a problem would be most necessary for the success of this semester. This week I may have to accept the burnout and move forward more consciously.

Mondays - no stress

Tuesdays - class and work

Wednesday - class and rest

Thursdays - class and work

Fridays - therapy and work

This gives me Mondays as a big study day, so I can work ahead for the week since most assignments are due the Sunday before. Tuesdays and Thursdays I can find an hour before class to do small study sessions, maybe this can be used for readings, journals, and discussion boards. I’d like to keep Wednesday nights for rest since I am often exhausted after my 3 hour lecture, these nights I can use to take care of self. This seems manageable for the future, but for this week I will accept a late night tomorrow to finish.

[dcxdpdabbles]

can you write the batfam going to amity due to *reasons* and alls well until Jason feels like he SHOULDNT go near since it’s Danny’s Haunt? Like how Crime Alley is ‘his’ Haunt? And batfam thinks he’s just being dramatic but uh, yeah he isn’t.

"I'm not going in there," Jason repeated, standing on the side of the highway, arms crossed over his chest and a stubborn scowl on his face.

"Jay, please get back in the van," Bruce sighed while the rest of the Waynes stared from their seats. They had originally all gotten off, but when the second eldest had started yelling, Bruce herded everyone back inside, including Dick.

No one knows why Jason was acting like this.

A few minutes earlier, he had napped comfortably in the far back of the large van Bruce had rented. The family had been on a cross-country road trip, where they all piled in together and let the GPA lead them to their final destination- Wayne Mountain Hotsprings. Alfred had the idea to practically kick everyone out of the manor to bond.

Members of their various teams would watch Gotham for the three weeks they would be gone. This week, Kon and Bart texted Tim updates. At first, the Waynes were not entirely up for the trip, but after a few hours of driving, they all enjoyed singing random songs and researching their vacation pick.

They each got to pick one random spot they wanted to stop at one the way- tourist trap or not- and Damian had been excited to go to "America's most haunted town." He had even been able to contact local ghost hunters who were excited to give them a tour. The Waynes would spend the night at the only hotel in the city and leave tomorrow morning.

That was the plan until Jason woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, "Pull over! Pull over! I can't go in there!"

It gave everyone a heart attack. Bruce had nearly driven into the other lane as Jason had been attempting to unbuckle himself and- were it not for Cass's quick reflection- fling himself from the moving vehicle. As soon as they found a safe spot to pull over, Jason leaped from the van and placed himself in front of the Welcome to Amity Park sign

A little up the road, they could see the city's outskirts. The Fentons, the acclaimed ghost hunters, were expecting them in twenty minutes. Damian was getting angsty.

"Can you explain why you can't go into Amity Park?" Bruce questions, stepping closer. "I won't make you go in there. I just need to know what's going on."

"Don't you feel that?" Jason asks, gesturing to the air around them. "It feels unsafe."

"What does?"

"The vibes," Jason said straightly, and Bruce's left eyebrow was spammed. "The vibes are choking."

Bruce takes another step closer, voice lowering into the familiar tone of comforting a scared civilian. "Jay what do you mean by that."

Jason opened his mouth only to snap his head upwards with a scream. "He's here!"

Everyone looked up—or at least those in the van by a window—only to see nothing. There was nothing there that could have freaked out Jason so much. The sun, maybe? Gotham wasn't known for its sunlight, and perhaps the fact that he grew up without it made it extra terrifying to the Gothamite.

Jason leaped behind Bruce, hiding like he did as a child. Now that Jay was taller than his father and buckler, it was a strange sight. "I'm sorry! I swear I wasn't going in!"

"Jaylad, what-"

"Ghost detected." The robotic voice of Damian's official ghost-hunting equipment made everyone freeze. The boy had opened the door of the van, escaping Duke's attempted grasp, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the little machine in his hand.

It came from the Fentons' online store, and although it didn't work, Damian enjoyed walking around with it, searching for the paranormal. The rest of the family saw it as an age-appropriate make-believe, sighing in relief when he waved his little box around before deeming the area safe.

As it were, Damian waved the box again, letting the machine hum and bling as it landed on a particular spot in the sky. "Ghost detected. Ghost detected. Ghost located. Ghost is ten feet before you."

"Oh wow," An unknown voice said over the sound of rushing cars on the highway. Damian's eyes widen. "Haven't seen that design of the Fenton Finder in years. First edition, isn't it?"

Damian eyes are practilly sparkling as he puffs out his chest "It is! Are you a ghost?"

"Yeah." Suddently a glowing flouting transparent boy pops into thin air. No sound, no portal, not rush of air. Just one second he's there. He offers Damian a wide warm smile, that somehow makes his glowing green eyes menecing. "I'm Danny Phantom."

He turns his eyes back to Jason as Damian gapes at him. The boy had thought Phantom was a local urban legend. He has been decorating his room with "captured" images of Phantom for years. He turns to Tim, hissing for a pen and his photo binder.

"You." Phantom points at the cowering man. "Feel strange. You're overshadowed, but at the same time, there is no foreign soul in your body. What are you?"

"Um, I'm just here on vacation with my family-oh!" Jason words are cut off as Phantom flings himself at the pair. Before Bruce or Jason can react the ghost has his hands inside of Jason chest, ramaging around like it's a bag. Oddly enough, this makes Jason blush.

"Hmm. Yeah, there is no other ghost here. Are you haunting your own corpse?" Phantom floats upwards to stare into Jason's eyes. "Or are you a Halfa?"

"My own corpse," Jason gasps, but Bruce decides he's not about to let whoever this bothers his son, pushing Phantom back. Only somewhat surprised by the fact he made contact the hero's grunts

"Kindly keep your hands to yourself."

"Sorry," Phantom mutters, flouting back. He fidgets with his glowing white hair while shifting his feet. "I just wanted to be sure he was safe. You may enter."

And with another pop, he's gone.

Damian makes a sad whine in the back of his throat, holding a picture of a blurred image of Phantom and a pen. He flipped through the binder, attempting to find the clearest one while the ghost chatted with his father and brother. "I didn't get an autograph."

"There's always next time," Tim offered, patting the boy back as he led him towards his seat in the van again. You should keep that on your person so if you run into him again, we can get it signed for you quickly."

"Okay"

"Phew," Jason breathed, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. "That was terrifying. Anyway, we should get going, I don't want to be late for the Fentons."

He ignored Bruce's look, walking back as if he hadn't held them up for nearly forty minutes because the vibes were bad.

Bruce stared as Jason skipped back to the van, feeling very old and single. Maybe he should try calling the blind date Alfred had attempted to set up for him. He needs some support in raising his children. He has too many white hairs as it were.

[ailelie]

Essays and Meta on Interactive Fiction Design

2025.5.20: Updated original list with more resources. I've also fixed the links.

Structure

Standard Patterns in Choice-Based Games

Design Patterns in Choose Your Own Adventures

Small-Scale Structures in CYOA

By the Numbers: How to Write a Long Interactive Novel That Doesn't Suck

Adventures in Text: Innovating in Interactive Fiction

Structuring IF Side Plots

Narrative Graph Models

Beyond Branching: Quality-Based, Salience-Based, and Waypoint Narrative Structures

Puzzle Dependency Charts

What does your narrative system need to do?

Narrative Logics

Design Decisions: Stats

Loose, Tight, Flat, and Bumpy Stats in ChoiceScript Games

7 Rules for Designing Great Stats

Think Before You Stat

Set, Check, or Gate? A problem in personality stats

Design Decisions: Choice

Mailbag: Moments of Non-Choice

Should Games Have Meaningful Choices?

Creating Choices in Interactive Writing

A Bestiary of Player Agency

Making Interactive Fiction: Branching Choices

Successful Reflective Choices in Interactive Narrative

Design Decisions: Other

Writing in Collaboration with the System

Story vs. Game: The Battle of Interactive Fiction

Narrative States

How to write a branching narrative and won't lose your mind

Storygame Genre

Narrative Mechanics, Narrative Dynamics

That Darn Conundrum

Writing Advice and Opinions

The Seven Deadly Sins of Writing Interactive Fiction

Three Solutions to Three Problems in Interactive Fiction

Writing Interactive Fiction in Six Steps

Writing IF

Game Analysis

CYOA Structures: Tween Romance

These Maps Reveal the Hidden Structures of 'Choose Your Own Adventure' Books

Playing With Words: The remarkable Firewatch is part of a new generation of games taking cues from the text adventures of the 1980s

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Scarlet Sails (and a discussion about game size

Musings on IF

Interactive Fiction as Literature

Riddle Machines: The History and Nature of Interactive Fiction

Toward a Theory of Interactive Fiction

Interactive Fiction for the Modern Game Designer

The Joy of Text: the fall and rise of interactive Fiction

Going Interactive or: How I Learned to Relax and Let the Reader Take Control

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Misc

Ethically Designing Unethical Worlds

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Game Taxonomies: A High Level Framework for Game Analysis and Design

An in-depth look at what otome players wants

Mailbag: Self-Training in Narrative Design

[kooklovee]

Yours for a year - JJK

Episode 1

One year, one contract, one fake marriage. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

Pairing - Ceo!Jungkook x Reader

Genre - fake/contract marriage au, grumpy x sunshine, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, smut (eventual)

Warnings - mentions of drinking, bad attempts at humour😔, inner monologues

Wc - 6.3k words

a/n - I’ve written, scrapped, rewritten and scrapped again- this chapter like three times before finally settling on this version. so yeah.. I’m really nervous putting it out. also apologising beforehand because updates for this series would be slow🙂🙏

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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Your Sundays are usually simple. Comfortably uneventful, to say.

Some weeks, you sleep in until noon and stay in bed watching movies. Other times, you tidy up the apartment, fold laundry in mismatched pajamas or hum along to a half-finished playlist while grading assignments.

However, none of that exists today.

Because today, you find yourself standing outside a CEO’s house. The house looms in front of you, tall and tastefully modern. So sleek and aesthetic it instinctively makes you straighten your posture for no reason.

The air was tinged with the clean scent of winter, and the sky was a soft grey. A delicate layer of snow clung to the sidewalks and rooftops.

Your breath fogged in front of you as you walked. The street was quiet, and the whole area had the kind of calm that made you feel like your heels were too loud.

You’d said yes to Taehyung’s logic-defying idea of fake marrying his best friend. Because, as Taehyung so kindly pointed out, “It’s what a logical person would do.” And apparently, you were a logical person.

He’d texted you a couple of days later.

Tae🥂 : He said Sunday works!! Better to meet at his place. No chance of someone eavesdropping yk.. I'LL BE THERE TOO so chill

Tae🥂: He doesn’t bite

Tae🥂 : Usually

Yeah. Soothing words, truly.

The gate is already open.

Your heels click softly against the stone as you walk up the short path to the front door. The air feels still.

And everything feels a little too perfect.

You stop just before the door, catching your reflection in the glass panel.

What do you even call him?

Mr. Jeon? That sounds like you’re interviewing for a job.

Jungkook? That feels... wrong. You’ve never even spoken to him. He’s Taehyung’s best friend, sure, but also a literal CEO.

Maybe just wait for him to say something first. And then copy his vibe. Right.

Deep breath.

No weird jokes. Don’t say anything stupid. And most importantly, don’t knock over something expensive.

You got this. Just a casual meeting with your to-be-fake billionaire husband.

Totally chill.

Also… Taehyung’s inside. He said he’d be here. So, it's not like you’re walking into this alone.

You press the doorbell.

A few quiet seconds pass. Then, the door clicks open.

And you’re greeted by…

a chest.

A very tall and very defined chest.

White cotton stretched over hard lines. Your eyes travel up, past the subtle tattoos peeking from under the sleeves to the edge of one tattoo peeking out beneath the neckline, to a sharp jaw. And lots of.. piercings.

Eyebrow.

Lip.

Earring.

Woa.

Your brain definitely needs time to load such high-definition visuals.

His eyes catch yours.

Dark brown eyes.

You feel rooted to the spot, unsure if you're blinking too fast or not at all. Maybe you're staring long enough that he starts to part his lips, maybe to say something or maybe to ask why you’re frozen like an idiot— when a voice from inside calls your name.

“Y/N!”

Your attention snaps immediately.

Taehyung.

Jungkook’s eyes flick back briefly before he steps aside, giving you room to enter. One hand still tucked lazily in the pocket of his grey sweats, the other letting the door drift wider open.

You mumble a greeting, swallowing down whatever tangled string of embarrassment you're feeling and step inside, before slipping off your heels with more grace than you feel.

Jungkook's presence lingers behind you for a beat before he moves ahead, walking past you and into the living room.

You follow, eyes instinctively scanning the space as you go.

Everything inside is muted and minimal. Stylish in a distinctly masculine way. Cool-toned furniture. Statement lighting. Black.

More black.

A touch of grey.

Then another black.

It’s elegant, sure, but feels a little too serious.

And too dark for your liking.

Your gaze drifts to Taehyung, sprawled on the couch with one arm petting-

a dog?

Is this Jungkook’s dog? Taehyung didn't mention any dog. If you'd known there was a dog involved, you would’ve agreed to this whole fake marriage thing for free.

“Bamie’s been waiting to meet you.” Taehyung grins.

You make your way over, crouching beside the dog as he sniffs your hand.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you coo, running a hand gently over his head. “You’re so handsome, look at you..”

Taehyung chuckles behind you as you grin, beaming as Bam noses into your palm.

“Bam, meet your soon-to-be mom.”

Jungkook throws Taehyung a look over his shoulder, which you don't catch.

But you definitely do throw Taehyung a look of your own with a pointed glare.

He laughs. “Fake mom. Chill.”

Taehyung pushes off the couch as he gestures between you and the man standing by the massive windows.

“Alright. Jungkook, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet Jungkook. My best friend since… I don’t even remember anymore.”

You let out a small laugh, glancing over toward where Jungkook stands.

He’s still by the windows, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweats.

The scene is somehow borderline intimidating to say the least.

You, meanwhile, are still kneeling on the floor in front of his dog.

You offer a small nod with a smile.

“Hi.”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t shift much, but he dips his head in acknowledgment.

“So,” Taehyung begins, shifting to face you both, “now that both of our fake couple candidates are here.. shall we proceed on the plan of the decade.”

You give him a flat look as you lower yourself onto the couch, smoothing your hands down on your jeans. Bam lets out a soft huff, resting his head on your thigh, while you gently pet his head.

Jungkook had taken up the space near the window, arms folded as a soft breeze filters through the partially open pane behind him. He looks like he’s either completely uninterested or just painfully used to Taehyung’s flair.

Probably both.

Taehyung leans down to grab something from the coffee table.

“Please admire how our beloved Mr. Jeon took the liberty of making an actual contract for your fake marriage,” his tone dipping into amusement as he passes you a slim folder.

You open the folder. There's clean formatting with signature lines at the bottom. It reads like a business document. Because to Jungkook, that’s what this is.

Peak CEO behavior.

You don’t say anything. But it confirms what you already suspected—he’s the type who treats everything with the clinical precision of a quarterly report.

You glance at Jungkook again, unable to help yourself. His jaw is set in an annoyingly sculpted kind of sharp. There’s a faint muscle working near his temple. But otherwise, he doesn’t move.

Taehyung goes on to speak, flipping casually between joking and informative like it’s second nature.

The gist of it was simple enough. You and Jungkook just had to tell his family that you'd decided on a quiet court marriage. Which would be easier for handling the fake documentation. He’d handle the paperworks. Well, perks of having a best friend who also happened to be a lawyer.

All you and Jungkook had to do was pretend to be believably in love.

You tried to focus while Taehyung laid it out. One year would be long enough to make it convincing. After that, a clean break. Just a perfectly executed performance that would buy Jungkook time, keep his parents from prying, and somehow benefit everyone involved.

It sounded simple when Taehyung said it.

Easy, in theory.

But how are you exactly supposed to pretend to be married to someone who communicates through silence and jaw tension?

Because that’s certainly what he’s doing now.

Jungkook hadn’t contributed much. Or anything, really. Hadn’t even looked like he was listening.

He was just… there.

You nod along. Tried to mentally log the details of what you were signing up for. Taehyung shows you pictures of Jungkook’s family members, so you'd recognize them when the time comes.

Still, it was hard to ignore the fact that you seemed more emotionally involved in this fake marriage than the man who needed it.

“And for that,” Taehyung adds, turning to his best friend with a pointed look, “you actually need to act, Jeon. Otherwise, my entire genius plan to save your ridiculous lie will go to waste.”

There's a flicker of something crossing his face. You can’t tell if it’s annoyance or just habit.

Hard to tell with him.

“I’m serious, man. You can’t just sit there and expect her to carry the whole illusion.”

“Shut up.” Jungkook mutters under his breath.

Okay. So he can speak like a regular human being.

Taehyung laughs at Jungkook’s grumble, tossing something else at him in reply.

“Alright, since I’m here, I’ll take the liberty of giving you a home tour.” Taehyung's already standing up as he speaks.

You playfully roll your eyes before following him. Taehyung leads you past an open kitchen. The walls are decked muted tones, dark oak, matte blacks, soft lighting. Eventually, you stop before a door near the end of the hall. He pushes it open and steps aside, letting you in.

“This,” he announces with a dramatic flair, “is where you’ll be staying.”

As Taehyung steps in behind you, you turn towards him, lowering your voice to a whisper. “He’s not… actually a serial killer, right?”

Taehyung snorts, “Unfortunately, no.”

“He hasn’t said five whole words since I got here.”

“He’s just… selectively spoken?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

He laughs. “He’s just like that Y/n, give him some time.”

You shake your head, glancing around the room again.

Warm sunlight filters in through floor-length beige curtains. At least, you're glad these aren't black too. There’s a queen-sized bed with clean white sheets. A cozy chair tucked in the corner by the window.

Subtle accents, ambient lighting, polished hardwood floors. Everything is immaculate. For a guest room, it’s insane.

After taking one last look around your new room, wrapping your mind around the fact that this would be your temporary living space, you follow Taehyung back out into the hallway.

Jungkook was on the floor near the couch now, one knee bent lazily as he fed something to Bam. The dog leans into his touch, eyes halfway shut as Jungkook scratches behind his ear.

There's something oddly domestic about it that makes you pause for a bit.

“Wait,” Taehyung turns to Jungkook. “Don’t you have your family dinners on sundays?”

Jungkook’s hums, eyes lifting lazily.

“Well, why don’t you introduce Y/N tonight?”

Your head snaps towards Taehyung, and you instinctively glance at Jungkook, expecting him to maybe push it to next week.

“If she’s free.”

If she's free.

Your laundry’s done. You've graded the remaining sheets. Also planned tomorrow's schedule before arriving here.

So yes, technically, you’re free.

But. Tonight?

You try keeping your expression neutral even as a mini internal spiral takes place. Because apparently, your debut as a fake fiancee might be happening in just a few hours. Over dinner. With his entire family.

Your wardrobe looks like it exploded.

There’s a green dress hanging halfway off your mirror. A blouse crumpled on the floor. Your favorite wide-leg trousers you wore once to a conference, now flung on the bed. And still- you’re standing there, staring blankly at the mess like it's all somehow going to organize itself and whisper the right choice to you.

Because, what the hell are you even supposed to wear to meet your fake fiance’s family?

Scratch that.

Insanely attractive, billionaire fake fiancee.

You exhale, knuckles brushing the edge of a black dress. Maybe this one.

According to Taehyung, tonight actually worked out perfectly. With almost two weeks left before the New Year, it would be the right time to tell the family now, have the marriage registered right after the holidays. The contract would then run cleanly for a year. A full, tidy timeline.

Right. Clean and simple. Just pretend for an entire year that you’re married to a man who’s given you less warmth than the weather outside.

How did this escalate so fast?

Just a few days ago, you were walking around campus with your usual schedule, grading papers and planning lectures while sipping mediocre coffee in the university breakroom. A week ago, your biggest stress was grading three dozen barely legible midterm papers.

Now, here you are. Choosing an outfit for dinner with your to-be fake in-laws.

Fake in-laws.

You close your eyes for a second groaning lightly into your hands.

Taehyung had dropped you home from Jungkook’s place. After the world’s most formal fake-marriage negotiation. You'd barely buckled your seatbelt before letting out a dramatic sigh, “What have you gotten me into?”

He had only laughed, because of course he had. “Come on. Just think of it as something fun. You needed a little crazy beside your professor routine anyway.”

Fun.

Insane, as well.

“Taehyung, I have to meet his parents tonight already. What am I even supposed to wear to something like this?”

“It’s just a casual family dinner. Don't stress, it's nothing fancy. Just be yourself,” he’d grinned. “Go for a simple dress? Something nice. You always dress well anyway.”

Easy for him to say.

He wasn’t the one about to have a fake introduction as someone’s future daughter-in-law.

And just as he'd pulled up to your apartment, you’d leaned over, reminding him to send you the address before dinner.

But instead of reaching for his phone, he’d grinned.

“Oh, you don’t need it. Jungkook’s picking you up.”

“Wha—”

Before you could fully process that horrifying detail, he was already waving and speeding off.

So now… here you were.

Standing in your bedroom.

Worried about not only trying to figure out how to walk into his family dinner and pretend like you belonged, but also spiraling over the fact that Jeon Jungkook himself would be coming to pick you up.

You glance at the clock again.

Two and a half hours left.

You sink down on the edge of your bed, running a hand through your hair as your gaze drifts over the fabric chaos you’d created.

Your thoughts somehow flicker uninvited, back to Jungkook.

All jawline and unreadable eyes. The man hadn’t cracked a smile once. You weren’t sure if he was allergic to expression or just emotionally defunct. Either way, he seems too boring having to share a house with. Plus, his acting skills were highly questionable.

You don’t even finish the thought, falling backward onto your mattress, arms flung out dramatically.

The ceiling stares back at you.

You stare back.

This was your life now. Lying to a family. Pretending to love a man who looks like he couldn’t even pretend to like a good sandwich.

You close your eyes. Maybe you were going to hell for this. But you’d also be getting paid.

And get to live in a goddamn penthouse. So really, who were you to complain?

You sit up reaching for the dress, holding it to your body in the mirror. It's cute. Sophisticated as well. Alright.

A few hours pass by while you move around your apartment in distracted circles, telling yourself you're not counting the minutes- but of course you are.

You'd debated about texting Taehyung to fake an emergency. Debated just not going at all.

You eventually drag yourself to your vanity.

It’s already close to 8:30.

You step into the black ankle-length dress you’d picked out earlier. You keep your makeup soft and minimal, while slipping on a pair of delicate pearl studs. A hint of warmth on your cheeks and a subtle gloss.

You stare at your reflection.

Almost done.

It was nearing nine. That’s when you’d agreed to leave.

And yet… no word from Jungkook. No heads-up.

You side-eye your phone on the dresser.

Taehyung had given you his number. But you weren’t about to text him first. He was the one picking you up, after all. It was basic courtesy to inform someone you were about to arrive, right?

You check the time.

8:52 PM.

You huff, turning back to your dresser to spritz some perfume, when your phone buzzes.

Jeon Jungkook: I’m outside.

You stare.

That’s it?

You scoff under your breath. This man.

Nothing remotely resembling human decency. Just a dry little notification that, frankly, would've had you blocking him on instinct if you didn’t already save his name.

You grab your phone, typing out a reply.

You: coming.

With one last breath to gather yourself, you slip into your heels before locking the door behind you, stepping into the elevator.

As the doors slide open to the lobby, your eyes immediately land on a sleek black Mercedes parked just outside the building. Polished to near mirror-gloss with dark-tinted windows.

You didn’t see Jungkook, but you didn’t need to. Of course this was his.

You walk towards it, reaching for the passenger-side door, offering a polite, “Hey.” Your gaze shoots up to his well-tailored button-down. He's wearing black too.

“Oh, we match.” you say, slipping into the seat and shutting the door behind you. “We already look halfway to power couple.” You let out a light laugh. Then, for emphasis, laugh again.

Jungkook doesn't.

Your smile falters. You look ahead again, internally cringing. God forbid the man even fake a chuckle.

You shift slightly in your seat, eyes flicking sideways to him as the car starts moving.

God. He smelled good. His sleeves were pushed to his forearms, enough to reveal the intricate ink that curled along his skin. The fucking tattoos-

No. Focus.

“So,” you say, “just making sure we’re on the same page.”

“We met through Taehyung.. And we’ve been dating for over a year? right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure your family won’t ask more?”

“Hm.”

Right. So full of words, wasn’t he?

You tilt your head, “We should add something more... don’t you think? more believable for everyone to buy?”

He doesn’t answer, so you keep going.

“How about…,” you offer with some thinking, “you met me at Taehyung’s house party. Saw me from across the room. And fell head over heels for me. Couldn’t stop thinking about me since.”

Jungkook shoots you a sidelong frown.

You turn to him with an expectant smile at your suggestion.

“No.”

You lean back in your seat, muttering more to yourself than to him, “Well, it’s definitely not me who would’ve fallen first so...”

He exhales through his nose, “My family won’t ask for that much detail. Just acting is enough.”

“Alright,” you hum, looking out of the windows.

Silence settles for a beat, before you glance at him again. “Okay, just out of curiosity. Do you have any secret escape doors in the house?”

He frowns.

You raise a brow innocently. “I’m just saying, I don’t trust your acting skills yet. So in case your family catches on and decides to throw me out, I'd really like to know if I have the chance to sneak out or something.”

He tongues the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back a response, most likely irritation.

Okay, you need to stop. In your defense it was a fair warning to keep his acting in check.

A few more minutes pass, while you stare out the window, watching the city lights melt into quieter streets. While also with the thought that you don't get it how he was so… calm? without even a hint of nerves.

“Aren’t you nervous?” you ask, turning your face towards him again. “I mean… you’re about to lie to your family about something pretty huge.”

He just stares ahead, gaze fixed on the road like you hadn’t even spoken.

Wow.

“You seem like you’ve done this many times before.” You let out a tiny scoff as you lean back crossing your arms.

Jungkook finally gives a short flick of his head throwing you a look.

Your eyes widen slightly before you snap your gaze back to the road ahead. You fold your hands in your lap, lips pressing together to stop yourself from speaking again.

You didn’t say a word for the next ten minutes. Thankfully. And Jungkook, as expected seems perfectly content with the quiet.

The car slows. And comes the Jeon house view. House was an understatement, though. It was more like an estate. Tall gates, sleek modern architecture, wide windows framed in black steel.

Jungkook pulls into the wide driveway and parks near the front entrance before unbuckling his seatbelt, then waits.

Right. You blink, quickly gathering your purse and stepping out of the car.

Jungkook steps out from his side a second later, walking around the car and heading towards the entrance.

You watch him go for a second, but somehow you stand frozen as your thoughts swirl with growing absurdity. What if his parents can smell the lie the moment they see you? Worst case scenario: what if someone actually throws wine on your face?

“Do you plan on standing there all night?”

You jolt upright, eyes snapping to meet his. Shit. He’s standing halfway to the entrance, hands in his pockets, eyebrow barely raised.

You hurry forward to catch up, adjusting your pace so you don’t trip on the pavement. “Sorry,” you mutter, sarcasm lacing your tone, as you reach his side. “I can't really match your level of calm.”

He doesn’t say anything. Not that you expected anything. You follow him up the smooth stone path that led to the double doors. Jungkook stops just as you reach the base of the entrance steps, pressing his thumb against a sleek glass panel beside the door. A soft beep follows, and the lock clicks open.

He glances at you, then down briefly. You pause beside him, looking up. He slightly lifts one arm wordlessly. You're confused at first, but then it clicks.

Couple.

He's getting into the act. Good.

You step closer, gently looping your hand around his arm. Your fingers curl ever so slightly around the firm muscle beneath the fabric of his sleeve and Oh my god.

What the hell does he lift—Buildings?

You clear your throat softly.

Jungkook glances at you once more, before you both enter.

The house is stunning.

Your heels tap softly against the marble floors. Your eyes instinctively scan the space, sweeping over elegant wood accents, a curved staircase spiraling down one side. The ceilings stretch high above with a massive chandelier. The lighting is soft and ambient. Clean walls adorned with modern abstract art in rich tones. You bet each of the pieces cost more than your monthly rent.

“Rae, come down in five minutes, okay?”

You turn at the voice, just as a figure begins to descend the staircase.

Harin. You recognize her instantly. From the photo Taehyung had shown you. Jungkook’s sister-in-law.

She’s even gorgeous in person. Tall, elegant, wrapped in a soft mauve blouse tucked into tailored trousers. Her hair is dark, swept into a low bun with loose strands framing her face. She moves with the kind of graceful ease that makes you immediately conscious of your own posture.

Her eyes meet yours for just a second before flicking to Jungkook.

And there's an audible gasp.

“I seriously thought you were lying that day,” she says breathlessly, her voice landing on Jungkook with something between disbelief and awe.

“Oh!, I’m so sorry—hi!” She walks over briskly, offering her hand to you with a warm smile. “I’m Harin. Jungkook’s sister-in-law.”

You shake her hand gently, offering a soft smile and introducing yourself. “Nice to meet you. I'm Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Such a lovely name,” she says, still eyeing the both of you, her tone rising with excitement.

“I can't believe he'd been hiding someone all this time,” she continues, throwing a teasing tone towards Jungkook.

You laugh softly, not knowing how to respond, but finding her energy contagious.

You glance sideways at him. He hasn’t said a word. His expression hasn’t changed much. But there's something almost imperceptible in the way his brow twitches.

“Anyways, come on. Everyone’s inside. I can’t wait to see their faces.” She giggles softly.

You offer a small smile. Harin’s warmth helps soothe some of the nervous energy that had been buzzing in your chest since the car ride.

There's a long hallway extended from the foyer, and somewhere in the distance, you could hear some low indistinct chatter along with soft laughter. Your eyes drift ahead to one door, further down and slightly ajar, glowed golden under the ambient lighting. The dining room, most likely. You just follow Jungkook's lead, matching your steps to his.

“Look who’s here,” Harin calls, unable to hide her glee.

Her reaction causes everyone else at the table to pause. All eyes turning towards you and Jungkook, standing just inside the doorway.

Your grip tightens slightly on his arm before you remind yourself to let go.

Jungkook’s father is the first person you notice. Suited, with a glass of red wine in hand. He’d been talking to another man who you now realize is Seojun, Jungkook’s older brother. Jungkook’s mother sits near the center of the table, when she notices you, eyes going sightly wide.

“Omo!” A delighted voice rises from beside her.

A woman in a lavender hanbok stands up, her silver hair swept into an elegant twist. She walks toward you with graceful steps, smile blooming wide across her face.

There's no doubt guessing her. Jungkook’s grandmother.

“You were hiding such a beautiful girl from us all this time?” she says, eyes twinkling as they take you in.

You bow respectfully, offering a genuine smile.

She beams, placing one hand on your arm, “Aigoo,” she murmurs, half to herself. “She’s so pretty.”

Your cheeks warm at that. “Thank you, halmeoni.”

Her eyes soften further.

Stepping forward, you offer a bow to the rest of the family, feeling the pressure of every gaze on you as you do.

Jungkook finally speaks beside you.

“This is Y/N.”

A pause.

“My girlfriend.”

You lift your head slowly.

His mother stands next. “Oh, sweetheart,” she says, moving towards you with a bright smile. “Welcome.”

“Thank you so much. It’s so nice to see everyone.”

“Oh, come on,” she waves softly, “We probably wouldn’t have even met you if I hadn’t brought up the idea of arranging his marriage.”

A chuckle travels down the table.

His father nods politely. “Glad you could join us.”

You offer one more round of polite bows.

“Come, sit,” his mother gestures toward the table. “Let's start with the dinner.”

You murmur a quiet thank you and follow Jungkook as he leads you towards the two empty seats in the middle of the table.

“They’re even twinning, do you see?” Harin giggles, whispering to her husband. Seojun stifles a laugh, murmuring something back.

Jungkook pulls out your chair first, surprising you, and then takes the seat beside you. You sit there, hands folded politely in your lap, stealing a glance at the man beside you as he pours himself a drink.

“Well, how long have you guys been together?” Seojun directs the question at you, clearly curious.

“It’s been... over a year now,” you say, keeping your voice gentle.

“Over a year!?” Halmeoni bursts out. “Jungkook-ah! We’ve been worrying ourselves sick that you’d never find someone and you’ve been hiding a secret girlfriend for so long?”

“Tch what did you expect from him?” Seojun clicks his tongue with a soft chuckle. “He’s an expert at hiding things.”

Jungkook merely takes a sip of his wine, not bothering to make a comment.

Great. This is it. Jungkook’s complete lack of effort is going to get you both exposed and they’ll all realize you're a fraud. You smile tightly while internally rehearsing your apology in case someone confronts you.

“How did you two meet?” Harin’s voice cuts through the tension with genuine curiosity. And you feel all eyes on you again, feeling the spotlight on you.

Jungkook answers first, “Through Taehyung.”

His mother lets out a small ‘ahh.’ “Even Taehyung hid this from us, that boy…,” she mutters, shaking her head with a small smile. “Leave it, we’re just glad you have someone, Jungkook-ah. We were starting to think you wouldn't ever want to get married at all.”

Everyone laughs softly in agreement.

Judging by his family’s reactions, it seems they’re genuinely relieved to believe he’s finally letting someone in. You almost scoff. Yeah. No wonder they’re shocked. Who would willingly sign up to commit to a walking statue? A Greek statue, but whatever.

“Tell us more, Y/N! How did it all happen?” Harin jumps in again. Her words are joined by small murmurs of agreement from others around the table.

You glance instinctively at Jungkook. His fingers tighten slightly around the stem of his glass, and he throws you a brief glance. You gave up the thought to map out the details of the lie after he'd assured you that his family wouldn’t prod.

But clearly, that wasn’t the case.

So you swallow, blurting out the first thing that comes to you before they notice something off.

“We... met at Taehyung’s house party for the first time,” you say quickly. “He um... spilled his drink on me by accident. Then he apologized, and we ended up talking... and sort of clicked. Things just... happened from there.”

Jungkook’s hand momentarily pauses mid-motion with the spoon, while you force out a nervous chuckle.

“That’s such a rom-com moment,” Harin finally speaks.

The others join in with soft chuckles, the atmosphere easing around you. You let out a quiet exhale, your own laugh joining theirs, though your heart is still pounding in your chest.

Jungkook's eyes flick towards you for a fraction of a second and you give him an awkward smile on reflex.

After the initial curiosity over your relationship with Jungkook, the focus shifts more naturally towards you. Jungkook’s father asks about your profession, clearly impressed when you speak about your role at the university. His mother follows up with gentle questions about your background. You share just enough, choosing your words carefully but never feeling interrogated.

Throughout the conversation, everyone is surprisingly involved and kind.

Jungkook, on the other hand, remains mostly quiet, answering a few things when necessary. He adds small details to what you share. Nevertheless, everyone seems to be used to his minimalism.

Seojun cracks a few jokes at Jungkook’s expense, about how surprising it is to see him actually bring someone home. Even you chuckle, trying to play along as naturally as possible.

For a fleeting moment, you wonder if Jungkook’s disinterest in marriage isn’t just about buying time, but about avoiding the idea entirely. Still, seeing how genuinely happy his family is now, you can understand why he agreed to all this in the first place.

Jungkook’s grandmother especially keeps the atmosphere warm, asking small questions about your life, making sure you tried all her favorite dishes, offering you seconds.

However, you can tell that this family, despite the wealth, the status, the formality of the home, there’s something deeply warm and close about them all.

A little while in, Rae finally comes down to join, settling beside her mother. She smiles shyly at you at first, but warms up quickly after a few exchanged words, and just like that, you feel another wall fall away.

As the evening wears on, your nerves begin to ease. You find yourself smiling more easily, laughing without thinking twice. The warmth is oddly comforting.

By the time the conversation circles back toward the two of you, the air has softened entirely.

“So, have you two given any thought to marriage?” His mother glances between you and Jungkook.

You smile, heart hammering faintly as you glance at Jungkook briefly before answering, “We hadn’t really been thinking about it before… but now, it feels like the right time.”

Jungkook nods once beside you, and that’s all it takes. The table lights up with happy responses and smiles.

After the dinner, everyone scatters comfortably across plush couches and armchairs in the living room. You sit beside Harin, engaged in light chatter. Meanwhile, Jungkook speaks to his brother nearby.

Jungkook’s mother gently raises her voice, drawing everyone's attention. “Alright, now that we’ve had a wonderful dinner and all properly met Y/N,” she says, her gaze affectionate as it falls on you both, “I think it’s time we talk about the wedding.”

“There hasn’t been a Jeon wedding in so long,” Harin adds with excitement.

“Yeah, there’s so much to plan — the venue, the guest list, outfits —”

“We’ve decided on a court marriage.”

Jungkook interrupts with a calm voice.

“A court marriage?,” Jungkook's father voice fills.

“Trust Jungkook to go for the most minimal option possible.” Seojun chuckles under his breath.

Jungkook’s gaze flicks to yours, “We both prefer it.”

You nod gently, adding, “Yes. We’d like to keep it simple.”

“Well,” his mother's smile returning softer now, “if that’s what you both want, that’s what matters most.”

Everyone agrees with the decision. Plans or no plans, everyone seemed simply happy that Jungkook wasn’t alone anymore. That he had someone beside him.

And that makes a small flicker of guilt beneath the smile you wear. Because only you both knew how temporary that truth really was.

As the night comes to an end, Rae asks if you’ll come visit again. You just smile and say you'd love to. Harin gives you a warm hug, promising to meet up soon, while Seojun playfully teases Jungkook about something.

You turn to Jungkook’s parents next, offering them both a respectful bow and politely addressing them by their surnames. She immediately waves it off with a cheerful laugh, telling you you'd be calling her Mom soon anyway. The hall echoes with a few soft laughs at her remark. Jungkook's grandmother cups your hands in hers, asking you to visit again soon.

Jungkook keeps close by, exchanging brief words with a few family members, before gently ushering you towards the door when it's time to leave.

“Can you believe it?” you turn to Jungkook as soon as the car door clicks shut behind you, and he pulls away from the Jeon estate.

You shake your head in disbelief, murmuring to yourself, “I really thought someone was going to call us out.”

Jungkook's eyes were on the road ahead.

"But I was pretty good, right? Though you haven’t seen my full range yet.”

His eyes flick sideways to you before focusing back on the road.

“And you were... kinda believable too” you nod sagely.

For a fake couple, you two made a pretty decent team. You hum thinking to yourself.

The ride continues as the city blurs past in amber streetlights. Occasionally, your eyes drift to his hand relaxed on the wheel. Despite the ease in his posture, you catch the faint furrow between his brows.

Soon enough, Jungkook pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Well" you offer, attempting a smile, “see you… at court?”

Jungkook stares at you unblinking.

“Cool. Goodnight.” You clear your throat, turning on your heel quickly, not waiting for a reply. You should stop with this really.

Jungkook's penthouse is dark when he steps inside.

Shirt halfway unbuttoned by the time he reaches the bar. Pouring himself a drink and gulping it all at once. The whiskey burns down his throat the way he likes it.

It should’ve felt like a win. The plan worked. His family bought it. He did what he was supposed to do.

But the bitterness that settles at the back of his throat has nothing to do with the alcohol.

A girlfriend.

After all this time.

Jeon Jungkook was finally normal.

He scoffs to himself, running a hand through his hair.

Was he failing at life just because he wasn’t dating someone? Everyone acted like being with someone made him better. It shouldn’t bother him. He’s used to people misunderstanding his solitude. But tonight, it grated more than usual.

Was the mere fact that he had someone beside him made him more complete? More worthy of praise? Like he’d finally caught up with the rest of the world.

His jaw clenches at the thought. Is this the most miraculous thing he could’ve achieved.

A relationship. A woman beside him.

And the said relationship they were celebrating didn’t even exist.

A bitter scoff escapes him.

And now?

Now he had to live with it.

He pours another drink but doesn’t take a sip this time, only stares at the liquid.

His brain had envisioned someone quieter — especially if the said someone were supposed to be a professor. Someone who only spoke when necessary. Someone who respected silence, like he did.

Instead, he got you.

You were just someone he’d pulled into this mess for convenience. You’d barely known him and yet you still managed to walk into his house and make everyone feel like you belonged there more than he did.

Also someone who, so far, talked too much, made up a half-baked lie, and somehow made it worse — like that ridiculous drink-spilling story you told in front of his entire family.

He rubs the bridge of his nose.

Who the hell spills a drink at a house party and falls in love over it?

You, apparently.

And somehow it worked. His family had bought every word of your chaotic last-minute story.

He stares at the city lights outside his window. Seoul glimmered beneath him, but his mind was elsewhere.

He signed up for this.

One year, he reminds himself.

That’s it.

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