#Short long code services

[goldenlaquer]

this question deserves to be out and in the open

[prpservicesin]

SMS Long Code vs SMS Short Code: Understanding the Difference

There are two types of SMS marketing and communication tools commonly used in the world today: SMS short codes and SMS long codes. Even though the two serve similar purposes, it is important to understand how they differ and their unique benefits for businesses interested in leveraging SMS effectively. In this article, you will learn about SMS short codes and long codes, their benefits, and how to use them.

[mrsvante]

Terms of Surrender

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: idol au, established relationship, pfp (kinda)

summary: he always left a piece of himself behind when he went away. now he’s trying to remember where he put it. a slow burning love letter to quiet homes, messy reunions, half eaten cake, and the way someone’s touch can make a tired soul feel whole again.

warnings: military discharge, emotional vulnerability, fingering, oral f!receiving, light edging, praise kink, yoongi calls you a good girl 🫠, swearing, teeth rottingly tender intimacy, clingy yoongi, post service identity crisis, minor angst with comfort, domestic fluff, one deeply judgmental dog named holly

word count: 4,907

a word from our sponsors 💁🏽‍♀️: i know these drabbles have been pretty much pfp but i got a little emotional with yoongi because we made it!! they’re all finally home & whole. how could i not get emotional?! ughhhh it feels so surreal to know ot7 is back 🥹 anyway, enough of me blabbering..hope you enjoy!

Yoongi slouched deeper into the backseat of the cab, his head tipped against the cool glass of the window as the late June sun painted long shadows over the city. Seoul hadn’t changed much. Same humming traffic. Same old buildings with half lit signs.

But somehow it all felt a little different today, like the world had edged forward a few paces without him and now he was just catching up.

The driver didn’t say much, which he appreciated. He wasn’t in the mood to talk.

His shoulder ached, an old reminder stitched into the muscle. He rolled it slowly, grateful it hadn’t flared up during the last few months. He’d been careful, pacing himself. Desk work had its own kind of strain, though. Different from physical labor. More like being filed down from the inside out, every second smoothed into the next until time itself lost its sharpness.

Twenty one months. It was a long time to be out of the rhythm of everything.

But he was going home now.

The cab pulled into the underground lot beneath his apartment complex. Yoongi paid, murmured a soft thank you, and stepped out, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. His fingers tapped over the security pad and the door buzzed open, welcoming him into silence.

The elevator ride was short.

He input the house code into the door, and the smell hit him first.

Takeout. Sweet and salty. Something you knew he liked.

Then your voice.

“~Congratulations, our beloved Yoongi~”

You sang in an absurdly high pitched voice, standing in the middle of the dining room in fuzzy socks, his old sweatshirt, and some too tiny shorts that clung to your ass like a second skin. A small cake sat on the table beside a bottle of Glenfiddich and a cluster of takeout boxes.

Yoongi blinked.

You ran over to him, grabbing his hand before he could even take off his shoes, dragging him into the middle of the room.

“Dance with me,” you demanded, swaying your hips in exaggerated circles, clearly trying to make him laugh.

“I literally just got discharged—”

“Exactly. So you don’t have any excuses.”

He rolled his eyes but let you spin him around once. Then twice. You clapped like it was the best performance of his career and leaned in to kiss his cheek with a loud, theatrical mwah.

Yoongi’s mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile.

You cut the cake and plated a slice. Soft, homemade lilac frosting smudged along the edge. You were beaming as you scooped up a bite for him with your fork.

“Open.”

“I’m not a dog, aegi.”

You tilted your head and arched a brow. “Wanna bet?”

Still, he opened his mouth and let you feed him. The cake was good. Moist and sweet, but not too sweet.

He was tired. Fucking exhausted, actually.

But his heart, his heart had never felt this full.

You nudged his side gently. “You look more dead now than you did on your last day of basic.”

Yoongi groaned, head tipping back. “Because basic was body hell. This was soul death. There’s a difference.”

You giggled. “So… filing paperwork was harder than running ten kilometers with a loaded pack?”

“Absolutely. You ever been stuck with a malfunctioning printer and an angry office ajumma on your ass for six straight hours?”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest. “Guess I’ll just have to nurse you back to health.”

“You’re already doing a pretty good job,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Later that night, the cake was half eaten, the whiskey two fingers lower, and the takeout boxes stacked haphazardly on the counter. The lights were dimmed, the room washed in the soft glow of the TV as the drama played on the screen.

You sat curled against Yoongi on the couch, legs tangled with his, one of your hands absently tracing the inside seam of his sweatpants. Holly was nestled comfortably by Yoongi’s feet, occasionally twitching in his sleep as if chasing something.

Yoongi’s arm rested around your shoulders, fingers playing with the end of your sleeve.

The silence had long settled into something easy. He hadn’t said much since dinner, but you didn’t mind. That was just him. He was always more of a slow pour—thoughts aged like wine, shared only when ready.

The main couple on screen kissed under a lamppost. The music swelled dramatically and you snorted.

“They’ve known each other for like four episodes.”

Yoongi gave a soft, amused breath through his nose. “That’s two more than some people get.”

A comfortable beat passed. Then he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I missed this.”

You turned your head slightly against his chest, your ear catching the soft thump of his heart beneath his shirt.

“Missed what?”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers stilled against your sleeve.

“This,” he repeated, gaze fixed somewhere past the TV. “Normal things. You. Even Holly’s stubborn little attitude.”

You smiled, glancing down at the tiny dog in question. “He’s been moodier than usual with you being so regimented lately.”

“Yeah, well,” Yoongi exhaled slowly, “I’ve been moodier than usual without you.”

You lifted your head to look at him fully, but his eyes were still on the screen, though it was obvious he wasn’t really seeing it. There was a distant kind of sheen in his expression. Like he was still partially somewhere else.

He finally glanced at you, the corners of his mouth tugging faintly. “I think I forgot how to sit still for a while. Everything about that place… the rhythm, the silence, it’s different. Not bad, just…” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Sterile. Like life paused and I was watching it through a window. The days bled together. Same halls. Same faces. Same tired conversations.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers along the edge of his jaw. He leaned into it a little.

“But now it’s over,” you said gently.

“Almost,” he replied. “Still doesn’t feel real. I’ve been fantasizing about laying on this couch for months without forcing myself to stick to a bedtime. About your cheesy dramas. About Holly hogging all the foot space.” He nudged the dog lightly with his toe. “But the moment I stepped through the door, it felt like no time had passed and also like a lifetime had gone by.”

He paused. His voice dropped just slightly.

“I’m nervous.”

That surprised you a little. You sat up straighter.

“About?”

“Coming back.” He didn’t mean the apartment. “About being with the guys again. Being BTS again. It’s stupid—I’ve done this my whole adult life. But it’s like… what if the music feels different? What if I feel different?”

You softened, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You are different. That doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.”

“I know.” His eyes flicked down. “I just—there’s pressure. Expectations. We’re all gonna be different now. Older. We’ve lived outside of that world for so long, it’s not going to be the same. And I’m scared I won’t love it the way I used to. Or that I’ll want it too much and burn out again.”

Your thumb softly traced beneath his eye.

“You don’t have to have all the answers yet,” you murmured. “Just take the next step. One at a time.”

Yoongi let out a breath. Not quite relief, but close.

“You always know what to say.”

“No,” you said with a small smile. “I just know you.”

He looked at you again, really looked this time, and that quiet, aching fondness was back in full force. The kind that never demanded attention but still managed to take up all the space in the room.

“I want you there,” he said, voice soft and sure. “When it all starts again. Not hidden. Not on the sidelines. Just… with me.”

You nodded, brushing your nose against his before whispering, “Always.”

Yoongi didn’t kiss you right away.

He held your face like it was the last fragile thing in a world made of sharp edges, and then, he kissed you.

You didn’t know who started it, but the kiss deepened before either of you thought to stop it. A soft press of lips became something hungrier, something hot and slow and aching with everything unsaid.

Yoongi’s hand cradled the back of your head, his thumb brushing just behind your ear. The other slid to your hip, pulling you closer until you were practically on top of him. You shifted, straddling his lap fully, thighs settling on either side of his, and the sound he made sent a sharp pulse straight through the apex of your thighs.

His tongue traced the seam of your mouth, and you opened for him. The taste of whiskey lingered faintly on his breath, but more than that, it was him.

Warm and addicting.

You rocked forward just slightly, enough to feel the stiff press of him beneath you.

Yoongi tensed, groaning into your mouth as your hips moved again. The pressure, the friction, had you squirming before you could stop yourself. His hands gripped your hips harder, guiding the movement just a little, just enough.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice ragged against your lips. “You trying to kill me?”

You smiled against his mouth, breath catching. “Maybe.”

Another roll of your hips and he swore again, this time dragging his mouth to your jaw, then your neck, where he pressed a kiss just below your ear.

And then, a wet snort.

You both froze.

Then came a soft shuffle and another sneeze like exhale. Yoongi turned his head just enough to see Holly sprawled on his side by the couch, staring up at you both like he had just woken up to a live drama finale he definitely shouldn’t be watching.

You burst out laughing.

Yoongi let his head fall back against the couch with a dramatic groan. “This fucking dog…”

“I think he’s judging us.”

“I know he’s judging us.”

Still laughing, you moved to slide off his lap, but Yoongi caught you before you could. In one smooth motion, he stood, lifting you with him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders automatically, heart thudding.

“Yoongi—”

“We’re taking this somewhere Holly can’t emotionally imprint on the trauma.”

You laughed even harder, your nose bumping against his cheek as he carried you toward the bedroom, his grip firm and certain.

“And what exactly do you plan to do to me in there?”

Yoongi glanced down at you, eyes dark and glittering with intent, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmured, “things you definitely shouldn’t do in front of your children.”

You shrieked and hit his chest, breathless from laughter, head tipping back as he kicked open the bedroom door with his foot.

Behind you, Holly let out one last disgruntled little puff of air and curled back into a loaf.

Yoongi didn’t rush.

He was finally done with his service. There was no need to. And true to himself, Yoongi planned to take his time with you.

Even with weeks of want pressed into the heat between you, even with the taste of your mouth still lingering on his tongue and the shape of your thighs burned into his palms, he didn’t rush.

He laid you down gently, your back sinking into the mattress, the light from the hallway casting warm shadows across your skin. His eyes took you in like he was starving, like he’d been starving for months.

He peeled you out of his sweatshirt with a few gentle tugs. No shirt underneath, no bra.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “You are trying to kill me.”

You smiled, breathless and hazy, but it faltered when he leaned down and dragged his mouth over your breasts. His tongue was slow, tracing lazy circles around a nipple until it hardened beneath the drag of his lips. Then he sucked, just enough to make your fingers curl in his hair.

Your breath hitched. Yoongi hummed, tongue flicking once more before trailing lower, over your side, your stomach, your hips.

He whispered things as he went, words too quiet to make out. You only caught pieces. So good… missed this… fuck, you’re soft… Like a prayer, or a lullaby meant only for his own ears. There was admiration in every press of his lips. Admiration and hunger and something even more dangerous.

By the time he slipped your shorts down your legs, your thighs were already trembling.

His palm dragged up the inside of your knee, thumb brushing softly over sensitive skin. “Open for me, sweetheart,” he said, low and hoarse, like it cost him to keep still.

You did, thighs falling apart with no hesitation.

The air kissed the wet heat of you, and Yoongi’s gaze sharpened, but still, he didn’t dive in. No frantic desperation. No rush.

Just his lips brushing along the crease of your thigh.

Then again.

Then the other side.

Over and over.

Getting closer.

And then pulling away.

You squirmed. Your hips lifted instinctively toward him, only for his hand to pin you down gently, thumb stroking circles just beneath your hip bone.

“Yoongi…” you whimpered, voice threadbare with need.

He looked up at you, chin tucked between your thighs, hair messy, lips slightly parted—but his eyes glittered all dark and mischievous.

“I’ve been waiting twenty one months to take my time with you,” he said, all soft spoken sin. “Don’t think I’m gonna rush it now.”

Then finally, he licked one long deliberate stripe up your folds.

You gasped, back arching clean off the mattress, but Yoongi only hummed like he was tasting something divine. He didn’t stop there. His tongue moved with devastating precision, every flick calculated, every slow swirl around your clit designed to bring you just close enough.

And then retreat.

And then build again.

He latched his mouth around you, sucking just enough to make your breath stutter, hips rising for more. His grip tightened.

But then, he stopped.

You let out a strangled sound, hips jerking in confusion, in desperate disbelief.

He looked up again, mouth slick, eyes too wide and too innocent to be sincere. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Your chest rose and fell in sharp bursts. “You—you stopped.”

He tilted his head, mock concern twisting his features into a mask of gentle confusion. “I did?”

“Yoongi—”

“Shh,” he whispered, as two fingers slid deep into you before you could protest.

Your body seized, a cry breaking from your lips as he curled them just right, his thumb pressing lightly to your clit.

“You sound so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours.

He found that spot inside you again, massaging it with slow, steady strokes until you felt it build. All hot, overwhelming, and dizzying.

And then, he pulled away.

Again.

You choked on a sob, hands flying up to clutch at his arms. Your eyes were glossy now, cheeks damp, your whole body trembling from the tension he’d so artfully crafted.

“Yoongi—please,” you whispered, voice broken, barely holding together. “Please, I can’t—”

He kissed the inside of your thigh, lips soft against your skin.

“Yes, you can. You can for me, right?”

His voice was sweet, gentle. But it wasn’t kindness. It was torture.

Another round. Another climb. This time he used everything—his tongue, his fingers, his mouth—driving you to the edge until your body couldn’t tell if it wanted to cum or cry. You were gasping, breath breaking with every stroke, every flick of his tongue, thighs clamped tight around his head in desperation.

Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, your body pulsing on the edge of release, so close it hurt.

And Yoongi, he looked up at you with that same soft smile, that same faux innocence, like he wasn’t the one breaking you down piece by piece with every touch.

Like this wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

And just when you thought you’d reached your limit, thought you were about to break, he gave in.

Yoongi sat back on his heels for a moment, the soft light casting shadows across his jawline. His lips were still slick from you and swollen, a flush faintly blooming on his cheeks.

Then, without a word, he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Exposing the lean muscle and sharp lines of his body inch by inch. He tossed it to the side, not breaking eye contact. His hands moved to the waistband of his sweats next, dragging them down with a roll of his hips.

You propped yourself up slightly, breath catching as he stood to push them all the way off.

“Are you putting on a show for me, Min?” you teased, your voice soft but playful, cheeks still flushed from the cruel bliss of everything he’d just done to you.

He smirked, his cock heavy and flushed, bobbing slightly as he stepped back between your legs. “Don’t act like you’re not the one begging for an encore.”

You laughed, but it slipped into a gasp when he leaned over you, bracing one hand beside your head while the other lined himself up. The blunt head of his cock nudging at your entrance, hot, hard and achingly thick.

His eyes met yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, the words barely audible over your pounding heart.

Then he slid inside.

Your cry was half sob, half surrender as he pushed inside slowly in a long, unhurried thrust. Inch by inch, filling you until his hips were flush against yours and you felt impossibly full, stretched wide and warm around him.

Yoongi dropped his head to your shoulder, breath shuddering against your skin. “Fuck,” he groaned, voice cracking on your name like he’d been starving for this moment. Like this was his first breath of air in months.

He didn’t move.

Just stayed there, pressed so deep it felt like he could feel the beat of your heart from the inside. You clung to him, dazed and overwhelmed, trying to process the way he filled you so completely it almost hurt.

And then, he moved.

Slowly.

So slow.

Each roll of his hips deep and devastating. He fucked you like he had all the time in the world, like he was making up for every lost second. His lips trailed kisses across your cheek, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His hands gripped your thighs and then your hips, grounding you as your body molded to his.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him deeper, your nails scraping down his back as the pressure built again.

“Yoongi,” you whispered, voice trembling.

He kissed you softly. “I know.”

Your moans grew louder, breathier, every thrust coaxing more from you, unraveling you thread by thread. The steady rhythm turned hungrier, hips snapping a little harder, a little sharper, but never losing that deliberate care, that tether of control wrapped tightly around both of you.

You broke with a sob, your body clenching tight around him, your back arching as the pleasure finally tore through you. It rolled in waves, raw and overwhelming, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as if you could anchor yourself to him.

He didn’t stop.

“Good girl,” Yoongi rasped, the words gritted out through clenched teeth. “That’s it. Let me feel you.”

He thrust through it, riding the high, until your body began to tremble under his and your cries gave way to quiet, broken whimpers. He kissed your throat, your chest, lips suckling and biting your nipples as he fucked you. His hands soothed over your hips as if to apologize for the ruin he was leaving in his wake.

Then he finally let go.

He thrust deep one last time, a full bodied groan tearing from his lips as he came. His whole body shuddered against yours, mouth finding the hollow of your throat as he moaned your name into your skin, like it was the only thing he wanted to say.

When it was over, he didn’t pull away.

Yoongi cradled you against his chest, his heartbeat still pounding as your legs slowly slid down from around his waist. He kissed your temple, the corner of your eye where a tear still clung, then ran his fingers gently through your hair.

Your body still twitched in the aftermath. His touch was slow, soothing, grounding you as if he couldn’t bear to let you drift even an inch.

“I’m home,” he whispered.

And this time, it wasn’t a metaphor.

It was a vow.

No drills. No deadlines. No long hours and coming home too mentally exhausted to do anything.

Just this—his skin on yours, your name on his lips, and the silence finally filled by the sound of peace.

You lay tangled together in the low, amber warmth of the bedroom, skin to skin, legs lazily woven through his. The room had gone quiet again, save for the hum of the city beyond the window and the low, steady sound of your breath returning to normal.

Your skin was cooling but still slick with sweat in places. Every inhale brought the scent of sex and warmth and him. Something earthy, grounding, and entirely Yoongi.

Your head rested on his chest, ear pressed to the steady drum of his heart. The beat was slower now, steady again, but the weight of it beneath your cheek made you feel safe in a way that nothing else ever had.

Yoongi’s fingers drifted along your spine, light and slow and without direction, like his body needed the constant contact to believe you were still there. Every now and then his thumb would pause at your lower back, or brush along your side.

He wasn’t ready to sleep.

Not yet.

Neither were you.

You lifted your head after a while, your cheek creasing against his chest as you shifted just enough to look at him. His eyes were open, soft and dark in the low light, already watching you.

There was something in his expression that made your chest ache.

Something unspoken passed between you. That quiet pulse that always beat strongest when there was nothing left to perform, no ego, no masks. Just you. Just him. Just the knowing.

Then you shifted and climbed over him.

Yoongi’s hands found your hips instinctively, his breath catching slightly as you reached down and guided his still hardening cock inside you again. He was still sensitive, and so were you, but the stretch felt like being wrapped in silk.

You sank down slowly, breath trembling as your body molded to his. No urgency now, or easing. Just the soft, burning ache of connection that ran deeper than anything physical.

He stared up at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. Hair tousled. Skin flushed. Lips parted as he exhaled a shaky breath that ghosted over your throat.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he whispered, voice hoarse and low.

You smiled, leaning down to kiss him.

And then you moved.

You rolled your hips in gentle circles, every glide and shift dragging him deeper, tighter, making both of you gasp. Your hands framed his face, thumbs brushing over the curve of his cheekbones. His eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intimacy, by the heat, by the way your body gripped him like it knew him.

His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in just slightly, anchoring himself.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered. “Every time, but—fuck—like this…”

You could feel him trembling beneath you, trying to hold still, trying not to lose himself too fast.

“You’re perfect.”

You kissed him again. Softer now. Like a promise.

“I love you,” he said, the words so quiet they nearly disappeared into your skin.

You paused, not from doubt, but from the weight of it. From how much it meant to hear it like that. Bare. Honest. Unprovoked.

He tucked your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing over your temple.

“I do. I love you. And I’m so fucking happy you gave me a chance.”

“Yoongi—”

“I was scared,” he confessed, voice breaking a little. “Not of you—never of you. Just… of being seen. Of being known like this. You looked at me and didn’t flinch. You didn’t run. You stayed.”

You rolled your hips down again and his breath caught hard in his throat. His head tipped back, jaw slack with pleasure.

“You stayed.”

You kissed him again, this time slow and deep, like you were pouring every ounce of yourself into the space between you. Your hips moved with aching tenderness, each motion drawing you closer to the edge again.

“I think about the sounds you make,” he murmured against your throat. “When you cum. When you break. They’re so fucking beautiful, baby.”

Your breath hitched. The tension building again, coiling low and tight as his hands guided you in that same slow rhythm.

“I’m gonna record them one day,” he whispered, brushing his lips against your ear. “Sneak them into a track. Hide them in the layers so only I know they’re there.”

Your heart thudded hard.

“The breath you take right before you fall apart. That little gasp. The way you cry out my name. I’ll keep it buried in the beat like a secret.”

You clenched around him involuntarily, the pleasure building so high, so fast, your whole body quaked. Your hands gripped his shoulders, face tucked into the crook of his neck.

“Let go,” he whispered. “Let me hear it, sweetheart.”

And you did.

You came with a soft sob, your entire body locking down around him, thighs shaking, chest pressed to his. You shook with it, clung to him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

Yoongi followed soon after, holding you tightly as he spilled inside you, voice catching in your ear as he whispered your name like it was the only word that still mattered.

The practice room was just how you remembered it.

Long wall of mirrors. Scuffed floors. The faint scent of sweat and long hours spent rehearsing lingering in the corners. And yet today, it didn’t feel like a space for work. Not really. It felt like something awakened. A quiet celebration carved out between return and rebirth.

You stood near the back wall, tucked between two Hybe staffers holding sparklers that wouldn’t light, watching as Yoongi was gently bullied into the center of the room.

He stood awkwardly, barefoot on the polished floor, sweatpants slung low on his hips, a bouquet of white peonies and hydrangeas cradled in one arm and a cake in the other. His ears were red, and he was already muttering protests.

And then they started to sing.

Namjoon sang the loudest. Jin the most off key. Hoseok was filming the whole thing on his phone while simultaneously trying to shove a party hat onto Yoongi’s head. Jungkook laughed so hard he dropped his sparkler, and Taehyung had thrown confetti prematurely and was now trying to brush it out of Yoongi’s hair with no real success.

Yoongi stood in the eye of the storm with Jimin’s arms wrapped tightly around him, expression caught somewhere between exasperated and shy amusement. His fingers curled tighter around the cake as he tried to will down the smile pulling at his lips.

He wasn’t successful in the slightest.

After the last line of the song was shouted more than sung, the room burst into laughter and clapping. Staff members cheered. One of the managers brought out a cooler of drinks. Jin wrapped his arm around Yoongi’s shoulder and gave him a firm shake.

“Welcome back, hyung. You’re officially free.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but the look he gave Jin was full of something warm and deep. “Don’t remind me.”

The others gathered around him, pulling him into a loose huddle. There were back pats, too tight hugs, soft words exchanged that only they could hear.

They had all made it back.

Every last one.

For the first time in over two years, BTS stood whole again. Not just in title, but in body and soul. Hair a little shorter. Faces a little sharper. But hearts still tethered together by something that hadn’t faded with time.

“We did it,” Namjoon said, voice thick, gaze sweeping over them all. “All of us.”

Yoongi smiled faintly. “Now we make music.”

They stood there for a long moment. Just the seven of them, the silence stretching wide and comfortable. Like standing at the edge of something new, but not uncertain, familiar.

Yoongi’s eyes drifted across the room.

They found you instantly.

You weren’t even trying to hide, just leaning against the mirror with arms crossed lightly over your chest, watching him like you always did. With that quiet kind of pride that didn’t shout. The kind that just saw him.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

He smiled, just for you. Just a flicker. A promise.

Then Jungkook shouted his name and Yoongi was pulled back into the huddle, laughter erupting again as someone tried to smear frosting on his face.

You stayed where you were.

Watching as he laughed. Watching as he stood surrounded by his brothers. Whole and healed and home.

And when he looked back at you one last time over someone’s shoulder, you nodded.

Go on.

This was always where he was meant to be.

masterlist

dividers courtesy of @uzmacchiato

[moonastro]

Groom persona chart

Asteroid Union in the houses ( 1585)

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

The union in the groom persona chart represents the meeting between you and your husband. It can identify the environment, place, and symbolic values when meeting them.

reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.

✨special notes to take in before we get started-

🌼if union is in retrograde the union can be long going, like you and your spouse may take their time to actually start hanging out or start talking even especially if in 3rd house.

🌼if neptune is aspecting union may symbolise the union can have some secrecy or misinformation targeted towards you. depending in the house it's in can tell you why, like if in 2nd house you may misinform yourself into thinking your spouse may have a lot of money.

🌼union conjunct pluto may indicate a cold eery response from your half during the meeting. something may catch your eye about your future spouse but you wont know why. omggg and you may also hide the fact that you are interested in them. like you will keep a poker face or act like you are not interested when meeting them.

🌼union aspecting venus (more accurate if in 8th house) can suggest you secretly having an interest in them after the meeting so to say. union can involve some third party being involved such as a feminine individual.

Union in 1st house: for this placement you may meet your future spouse at a time of reflection and minding your own business. There could be some independence going on that day, you can meet your spouse and be completely by yourself that day also. You can also be the bold one here and approach them first or you may also notice them first. There could be conflict going on that day, whether you fall out with someone or someone around you may be arguing whenever you meet your spouse. Also vehicles can be involved here, you can literally meet them when driving back to your house from work or something.

Union in 2nd house: the meeting of you and your spouse can be very casual. May happen when doing something you find pleasure in such as going to treat yourself for a spa, a nice lunch etc. this meeting may involve some flirtations amongst one another so subtle flirting may happen when you both meet. On the other hand, this placement can bring some familiarity between you two so you may already know your spouse or have encountered them before or you may feel like it.

Union in 3rd house: the union may occur in your childhood neighbourhood. this may be a service occupied area or space so there can be a lot of background technological stuff ging on such as radio being blasted, other people being there as well, a social event with people being in the background. this place can be where travel is needed to get there which i know is literally everywhere because you need to travel everywhere if its outside your house but this is short distance literally like as far as one town to the other town. or this can be considered a bit of travel for you. If Union is in retrograde remember that communication may be very limited and actually non existent whenever you first meet, it’s something that you will have to learn to do when you meet, usually can talk about them to other people first before you actually talk to them.

Union in 4th house: can meet spouse in their home country especially if in the sign of Sagittarius or Pisces. Starting off strong, this meeting between you and your spouse can be somewhat planned or predicted in some ways. Like there may be some very noticeable or predictable approaches that were made whenever you met, like for example, when we you meet them you may already be thinking of moving in with them and thinking of staring a family together that sort of thing. There can be instant attraction and you may already view your soon to be spouse as husband material. With this placement I have also noticed that there is always an age gap, like all the husbands of the charts that have Union in 4H are older than them. Your meeting can involve some type of structural adjustment, you may be very busy when you meet them or vice versa. You may be working like literally in your job, or they can be doing some job as well- it just depends on aspects- like if it’s in exact opposition to mc( although this may cause some problems with meeting oops).

🌻an example would be -my mothers union is in the 4H- my father was doing some labour work and was busy doing something, but he was also AT HIS OWN HOME( 4th house is literally associated with your home) , she just happened to be cycling past him lol. (The degree was 25° which is associated with Aries- and Aries represents fast, actions, vehicles- bicycles).

Union in 5th house: meeting of you and your spouse can involve eyeing them up or vice versa. So love at first sight can be very common for this placement. Being heavily attracted to your spouse can also be very likely whenever you meet for the first time. Once again, this can suggest meeting them at a social event, a bit like the 7th house but this can be more surrounded by young people, or children even. So you may meet wherever there is a fun activity some likely energy going on, anything to do with kids/ children can also be linked with the surroundings whenever you two meet.

🌻for example, I know someone who had their union in 5th house and they met at a place where school kids would go afterschool or you would likely see them there.

Union in 6th house: may meet your future spouse whenever doing daily things/ not thinking about anything just focusing on your day. There may be some unfortunate things that happen in the background such as fights or argument/ hearing bad news/ feeling off that day ( all depend on aspects and sign as well). There could be a moment where you change something you usually would do every day and that’s when you can meet your spouse. Like instead of going to one grocery shop that you would always do every week you may decide to go to a different one to switch it up and may actually meet your future spouse ( more likely if you have Taurus union). Or another example could be whenever you change where you would go to the gym, maybe you decide to go to an outdoor one that day etc etc.

Union in 7th house: you can meet your future spouse when there is a lot of people. He can be part of your social group or extended social group, since this house is all about connections it’s like your friends can be friends with him and you finally meet each other from them. There is also a possibility meeting them at a social media app where people go to socialise and chat. So you may encounter them when you are chatting with friends in an app and they get added to the group chat that sort of thing. Usually what I’ve noticed with this placement usually you’ll meet your spouse after getting out of a relationship also.

Union in 8th house: meeting your spouse can be confusing. You may meet them very randomly or you may meet them but it would be very discreet moment for you as there may not be significant pointers that would indicate you that he is your future spouse. It may take a long time for you to actually open up to each other, may encounter them again, and again and again and… again, until you may think to yourself that you see them way to frequently. This meeting may also suggest that either you can be very attracted to them or not at all, yup you may actually not find them attractive at all whenever you meet them, but what may get you is their soul, their personality and the occurrences that happen by accident??

Union in 9th house: the meeting of your and your future spouse may happen at a time of when you are learning a new experience or experiencing something new that you haven’t before. This can literally mean you learning so a university or an education facility can be somewhere you meet them. But overall this placement can involve some travel or in a foreign environment, a place where you haven’t been before or been longing to explore or visit. Whenever you meet your spouse you can be new at something depending on the sign can tell you how so for example if in Aries may be learning to drive or may be a busier than usual day for you that day.

Union in 10th house: this placement is very professional and distant. This placement can indicate meeting your spouse in a professional matter so this can indicate while he is working or when you are. Usually with the meeting there can be some regulations involved such as effort that needs to be put in order to meet each other. This can simply mean that on the day of meeting there could be extra effort that may happen so for example if in the sign of taurus there could be some additional effort made with your appearance, like you may be more presentable that usual or may wear makeup for the first time because you may not wear it often something like that.

Union in 11th house: first meeting with your spouse can be through friends or online. It is definitely involving some social and interactive progress, I have observed some charts that have had this placement and they met online first THENN met up with them with a friend of their( catch this, she had her union asteroid in Scorpio in 11H and the friend she took with her to meet her spouse was a water sign sun!!!!) anyway, the meeting may be very public, and I mean this meeting can literally be in the middle of whole crowds of people, it will not be private AT ALL. Also this can be a very fun and exciting event for you, you may already know what you are expecting, as you may chatted online beforehand.

Union in 12th house: this placement can emphasise on a fated or unexpected union. What I’ve observed with this placement is that the people with this placement met foreign partners or their partner is from a different country or culture. But both met at a different country where both where born in. However, the meeting of you both may not be known by others very well. It’s not like it is intentionally kept discreet but it just may happen that you won’t be telling anyone about the meeting or how you’ve met them to others if that makes sense.

[were--ralph]

Can someone explain this whole honey situation? Since I’m extremely confused about the finances of this

long story short, when you click an affiliate link for a sponsored product, the person who is partnered with the company gets a small cut of money for promoting it. Honey instead took the sale entirely, paying the creator nothing. so if i partnered and you used my promo code, I would get paid a small chunk of money for my service, but instead honey would so some shady stuff and take the sale itself and give nothing to the people they partnered with. this was for nearly every person who pushed it

simultaneously, they would control which discounts were available via their app. So if i go to Best Buy and they have a 50% off code somewhere on the internet, they would not list it BECAUSE if they say "well couldn't find a code" or "we found the best code" and its only 5% off, you wouldn't be inclined to look and take it on face value then just go about your business. this would save the corporations they partnered with a chunk of money because instead of taking off larger chunks of money via coupons it would only use Honey branded promo codes that took off like 5%, stopping you from doing the looking yourself and also saving corpos money bc you didnt look deep enough.

so basically: you have an app that says "we'll save you money" you trust them and the creator that linked them, so you support the creator hoping they get paid, and not only do they not get paid, but the corporations said "dont show them the good coupons" and you believe it because....well why wouldn't you. it did what it said it was gonna do only not really. so you saved very little to no money and also no one got paid besides honey

[batsandbirdbrains]

I’ve been reminded that the reverse robins trope exists

The one where Damian has custody of Dick (reverse robins au)

I think it’s even better if most of the world doesn’t realize there are other Gotham vigilantes. Somehow, they’ve all stayed under the radar, but Robin is the one who goes out with Batman once he joins the Justice League. The others aren’t really interested in joining or even meeting them. They’re fine doing their own thing in Gotham & Blüdhaven.

But Bruce wasn’t actually around when Dick became part of the Wayne family. He’d been lost in time or whatever, and it was Damian who was at the circus that night. It was Damian who saw the Graysons fall. It was Damian who rushed to a tiny, frozen little boy who was kneeling in his parents’ blood and wrapped him in his coat, pulling him away and hiding his face in his shoulder.

Alfred thought the circus would maybe help Damian relax after all the pressure from taking over the Batman mantle. Give him something to smile about.

Instead, Damian gets in the car that night with a traumatized little boy, police and ambulance lights flickering from outside, and he looks Alfred dead in the eyes and says, “Congratulations. You’ve turned me into my father. The Commissioner and an agent from Child Protective Services will be stopping by the manor in about two hours.”

Alfred isn’t even all that surprised.

Damian adopts Dick immediately. He doesn’t want Dick to feel like his place in the manor is uncertain, like his place in the family isn’t permanent. He’s one of them now. He’s a Wayne.

Dick even agrees to hyphenate his last name when he sees how much Damian is fighting for him, when he hears him yell at the cops and the CPS people who call him a dirty gypsy and try to convince Damian to throw Dick in juvie, insinuating that Dick probably already stole valuables from the manor.

Nevermind the fact that Dick has barely moved or spoken a word in three weeks following his parents’ deaths.

Aside from sneaking out at night to interrogate criminals on Tony Zucco and what they know about him. But Batman finds him and foils his plans every night, bringing him back to his room at the manor.

It takes Dick less than two weeks to figure out it’s Damian behind the cowl. Damian is actually impressed, and he eventually agrees to train Dick to join the bats.

Tim thinks it’s an awful idea. But Tim and Damian clash with most things, so Damian considers his opinion invalid. Jason just thinks it’s funny that the kid wants his costume to have shorts.

And after a couple months of intense training, Robin is seen on the streets of Gotham beside Batman.

But then Bruce comes back, and he takes over the Batman mantle again, and Damian goes back to being Nightwing. Dick wants to stay Damian’s partner, he doesn’t know Bruce that well, he wants to stay with his Baba. But Bruce insists that he take over training Dick, and that since the public outside of Gotham became aware of Batman and Robin due to a high profile case, that Robin has to stay Batman’s partner.

Damian convinces Dick that it’s alright, because Damian is still going to be his Baba. They’re still going to live together in the penthouse. He doesn’t have to move, he doesn’t have to start calling Bruce dad, “none of the others do, anyway. Besides, you’re still my son. You’re still my Robin.”

So Dick continues going out on patrol with Batman, even if he insists to Damian that, “he’s not my Batman. You’re my Batman.”

Damian only ever lets Dick see how happy that makes him. He has a reputation to keep up, after all.

It’s Damian who agrees to let Dick join the Young Justice team. It’s Damian who gives permission for missions and training.

It’s Damian who uses an override code to enter Mount Justice when Dick is long overdue to be home from “a simple training exercise” that Bruce planned.

It’s Damian who finds his son limp on a stone slab, stuck in a psychic simulation.

It’s Damian who holds Dick’s hands and whispers in his ear that he’s alright, it’s not real, he needs to come back now when Dick is the only one who doesn’t wake up right away once M’gann loses her psychic grip on the simulation.

And when Dick shoots up, brow covered in sweat, breathing so labored that Damian is afraid he’s going to pass right back out, he just continues holding him and whispering to him that it’s alright, everything is alright, Baba’s here now. And Dick clings to him, holding on so tight his knuckles turn white, whispering into Damian’s chest that he thought Damian had died, he thought everyone died. I saw it, I saw them zap you, you were all just gone.

(As a side note, I don’t think this Bruce would want to be called Grandpa. It makes him feel too old. Bruce is supposed to be Jewish, right? Let’s have him go by Saba.)

And Damian is livid. Because how dare his father make his son live through what is essentially his worst nightmare. He snaps his head towards Bruce and seethes, “I told you no psychic simulations.”

“Saba said you agreed.”

The catch in his voice damn near breaks Damian’s heart. But it only serves to make him that much angrier with Bruce.

“You what?” He snaps at Bruce. “You told him I did what?”

“It was perfectly safe,” Bruce tries to reason with him.

“Clearly it was not!” Damian bites back. “I heard what the Martian said, Robin’s mind thought he was dead! Your ridiculous training exercise could have killed him!”

“He was perfectly safe. There was no real danger.”

“Stop,” Damian says, his voice perfectly calm. He tugs Dick close to him, as if letting him go would make him disappear into thin air. “Just stop.”

“Nightwing-“

“This is not the first time you’ve ignored my boundaries for him,” Damian tells him. “He is my son. He was my Robin before he was ever yours. And yet you stomp all over my limits for him time and time again. He is thirteen, he is not a soldier.”

He stands up, still holding Dick close, keeping an arm tight around his shoulders. As they pass by Bruce, Damian tells him in a final hiss, “Batman and Robin are done.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Bruce barks at him.

“And you are being like Ra’s al Ghul,” Damian hisses back, tightening his grip on Dick’s shoulder. “Count yourself lucky I’m not keeping you from your grandson entirely.”

Damian moves to leave, but Dick tugs at his arm and whispers, “Wait, wait Baba, wait,” then he throws himself at Bruce, hugging him tight. Bruce kneels down to hug him back, and maybe he finally realizes how much he fucked up when Dick whispers to him, “I’m glad you’re not really dead.”

But then as quick as he was to hug Bruce, he’s quick to let go and mutter, “Bye, Saba.”

Bruce just runs a hand through Dick’s hair before he can fully pull away, and he says back in a gentle tone, “Bye, Robin. Be good.”

Dick gives him a little smile and wave before attaching himself back to Damian’s side.

Idk I just want Damian being a protective dad and Bruce realizing he was kind of a shitty grandpa.

[copperbadge]

I have a lot of feelings about the use of AI in Everything These Days, but they're not particularly strong feelings, like I've got other shit going on. That said, when I use a desktop computer, every single file I use in Google Drive now has a constant irritating popup on the right-hand side asking me how Gemini AI Can Help Me. You can't, Gemini. You are in the way. I'm not even mad there's an AI there, I'm mad there's a constantly recurring popup taking up space and attention on my screen.

Here's the problem, however: even Gemini doesn't know how to disable Gemini. I did my own research and then finally, with a deep appreciation of the irony of this, I asked it how to turn it off. It said in any google drive file go to Help > Gemini and there will be an option to turn it off. Guess what isn't a menu item under Help?

I've had a look around at web tutorials for removing or blocking it, but they are either out of date or for the Gemini personal assistant, which I already don't have, and thus cannot turn off. Gemini for Drive is an integrated "service" within Google Drive, which I guess means I'm going to have to look into moving off Google Drive.

So, does anyone have references for a service as seamless and accessible as Google Drive? I need document, spreadsheet, slideshow, and storage, but I don't have any fancy widgets installed or anything. I do technically own Microsoft Office so I suppose I could use that but I've never found its cloud function to actually, uh, function. I could use OneNote for documents if things get desperate but OneNote is very limited overall. I want to be able to open and edit files, including on an Android phone, and I'd prefer if I didn't have to receive a security code in my text messages every time I log in. I also will likely need to be able to give non-users access, but I suppose I could kludge that in Drive as long as I only have to deal with it short-term.

Any thoughts, friends? If I find a good functional replacement I'm happy to post about it once I've tested it.

Also, saying this because I love you guys but if I don't spell it out I will get a bunch of comments about it: If you yourself have managed to banish Gemini from your Drive account including from popping up in individual files, I'm interested! Please share. If you have not actually implemented a solution yourself, rest assured, anything you find I have already tried and it does not work.

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch pre-finale

*.°* pairing : pre!military jk x waitress/ secret fuckbuddy reader

"For good service, and cute waitresses."

warnings: smut, alc consumption, fluff, profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idolljungkook, mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict,

chapter warnings: emotional whiplash, heavy themes military enlistment, crying (like multiple times), deep confessions, “i love you”s on loop, necklace symbolism, gift-giving that’ll make you spiral, daisy-coded softness, jungkook books out a whole restaurant like a maniac, he gets jealous of the waiter, you get ice cream in heels, comfort cuddles in a field, “please don’t leave me”, jungkook sobs into your chest, mutual breakdowns, camera clicks of love, surprise visit allowance reveal, and a single daisy tucked behind his ear that ends you, he plays decalcomania for herrr!!!! cringe but like who gaf ( not me )

a/n: incredibly unedited i am sorry for typos or inconsistencies LOL

wc: actually so fucking long SORRY

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

*.°* taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610 @bjoriis @kaitieskidmore97 @cuntessaiii @lovingkoalaface @bigsteppagangsterizzie @hangescn @angie-x3 @jjkluver7 @jungshaking @jjkluver7 @hoonsbrow @jjkkkk15 @crisle19 @roseda @oumy221 @cristinamajadera @hypophrenium ( check pinned tba )

masterlist , prev - next

the drive to back is quiet in a way that feels heavy yet peaceful, the soft hum of his radio’s blending with the rhythmic sounds of the road beneath you. every now and then, he glances at you, his free hand drumming absentmindedly against the steering wheel, but he doesn't say much.

when he pulls up in front of your apartment, he checks the time, its already 6:15 p.m.

His jaw tenses for a second before he brushes it off, locking his phone. Just as he does, another notification pops up, his manager, letting him know that his uniform has been dropped off at his place.

"hm." he reads it again before turning to you. "i think, my uniform's here."

ur face lights up. "im excited to see it."

Jungkook frowns, clearly confused. "You're excited?"

you unbuckle your seatbelt with a shrug. "Yeah. I've never seen you in a uniform before. Is that weird?"

Jungkook lets out a short laugh. "A little."

By the time you're walking up to your apartment, he's still laughing under his breath, watching you out of the corner of his eye. Then, suddenly, "You're excited to see me leave?" he teases, grinning as he bumps his shoulder into yours.

You gasp dramatically. "Yes. God, I can't wait."

He bursts into giggles, loud and unfiltered, his head tilting back slightly. The sound lingers even as you step into your apartment.

he toes off his shoes lazily at the door while you head straight for the couch, plopping down with a sigh. But he doesn't join you. Instead, he crouches by your plant corner, fingers brushing over the stems of the daisies sitting in one of your vases.

He tilts his head slightly. "They're growing well."

You hum, watching as he carefully fixes them, adjusting the angle of one that had drooped slightly.

"Do you remember when I got you these?" he asks, eyes still focused on the flowers.

You sit up, glancing over. "Of course, I do."

Your voice is softer now, and Jungkook finally looks at you.

You motion toward the small, single flower sitting on your TV stand. "This was the very first one. The one you gave me at the diner."

Jungkook's gaze softens.

"And then this one," you continue, nodding toward the next vase, where a bouquet sits. "That was after."

"When I picked you up from work," he murmurs.

You hum in agreement, pointing to another bouquet, the one he got you after taking you to the beach. Then, finally, the massive arrangement he gave you this morning.

Jungkook stares at it for a moment before shifting his attention to your wall, the place where he already knows you've been carefully pressing and taping up each one. His throat bobs slightly.

"I like that you keep them," he says after a beat.

You smile. "I like that you keep giving them to me."

He huffs out a quiet laugh, glancing at you with something so full, so warm in his eyes, you feel it in your chest.

And then, he just listens. taking in your words, the flowers, the way this place has slowly become filled with pieces of him.

and hes is still crouched by your plants when you stand up, stretching your arms above your head with a small yawn.

"I should start getting ready," you say, already heading toward your room.

Jungkook follows without a word, but when you glance over your shoulder, he's undoing the top button of his shirt, tugging it off effortlessly as he makes his way toward his bag.

"Make yourself comfortable, I guess," you tease, laughing when he just flashes you a grin.

By the time you start doing your makeup, Jungkook has already stripped out of his casual clothes and is pulling on his slacks, still careful to keep his new hair hidden beneath a cap. You sit in front of your mirror, your makeup bag spread out in front of you, while Jungkook takes a seat on the edge of your bed, tying his shoelaces.

"You really won't show me your hair?" you ask, catching his gaze in the mirror as you swipe concealer under your eyes.

Jungkook smirks. "Later. I promise."

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can press further, he leans forward slightly, tilting his head.

"What's that?" He nods toward the product in your hand.

You blink. "Concealer."

He hums, watching as you blend it out. "That's the one that brightens, right?"

You pause. "Yeah... you know about concealer?"

Jungkook snorts. "I get my makeup done all the time."

"True." You nod, reaching for the next step. "This is powder."

"Sets everything in place?"

You flash him a grin. "Exactly."

and just like that, the two of you fall into an easy conversation as you talk him through each product, him occasionally throwing in little comments or ovservations that make it clear he actually knows what he's talking about. He watches you the entire time, arms crossed as he leans back on his hands, eyes warm with amusement and something softer that he doesn't bother hiding.

When you finish, you tilt your head at him through the mirror. "So? Thoughts?"

Jungkook grins. "Beautiful, as expected."

You roll your eyes but laugh anyway, turning around in your seat. "Okay, time for me to pick out an outfit. What do I wear?"

Jungkook doesn't hesitate. "Something fancy."

You nod. "Alright. Get out."

His brows shoot up. "Oh?"

"It's a surprise—!" you say, waving him toward the door.

Jungkook laughs but stands up, holding his hands up in surrender as he heads for the hallway. "Alright, alright. I'll be waiting."

And with that, he disappears, leaving you grinning to yourself as you turn back to your closet.

——

You run your fingers through your hair one last time, smoothing it down before stepping back to take in your reflection.

its a silk slip dress, it drapes over your figure perfectly, the soft yellow catching the light in a way that makes it look almost golden. It's long, elegant yet simple. exactly how you'd want Jungkook to remember this night.

to remember you.

Grabbing your phone, you snap a quick mirror selfie and send it to Nari.

You: Approve?

her response is literally— immediate.

Nari: BITCHHHHHHHHHH OMG WTF YOU LOOK SO FUCKING HOT HELLO??????

Nari: OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Nari: IM BARKING. IM SCREAMING. IM THROWING UP.

Nari: JUNGKOOK IS GOING TO LITERALLY DIE. YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM.

you giggle, slipping on your white heels and grabbing a little bag before heading out to the living room where hes is waiting. He's leaned against the counter, scrolling through his phone, his brows slightly furrowed in focus.

And then he looks up. His eyes widen instantly.

Jungkook stiffens, his phone lowering slightly in his hands as he just... stares. His lips part, his jaw tensing like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. His gaze sweeps over you, taking in every detail, the silk, the way it clings to your frame, the delicate yellow against your skin, the way you stand there watching him, just waiting.

His throat bobs as he swallows.

"..whoa."

Jungkook pushes off the counter, walking toward you with that same intense stare, so unwavering that you have to glance away. Your fingers tighten around your bag, your heart hammering as he stops right in front of you.

"Is this... good?" you ask shyly, voice quieter than you intended.

His hands find your waist, warm and firm, grounding you in the moment. "It's perfect." His voice is low, almost reverent.

Your cheeks burn instantly. pushing lightly at his chest.

But that only makes him grin, and it gives you an excuse to take in his outfit, dressy pants, a sleek black silk button-up that fits him unfairly well, sleeves slightly rolled to show off his tattooed forearm. Your fingers smooth over the expensive fabric of his shirt, admiring the way it drapes over his frame.

"We look hot," you smirk.

Jungkook chuckles, his hands still resting against your waist. "Totally," he agrees. Then, he snorts. "But the beanie kinda ruins it."

You laugh, reaching up to tug at the edge of it. "No, it's nice."

"Yeah?" he murmurs, tilting his head.

And then, he hesitates for just a moment.

Because he wasn't supposed to give this to you yet, not until the very end of the night, right before he leaves. But looking at you now, glowing in soft yellow, looking at him with that teasing grin, he just... can't help himself.

Jungkook reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing over the small box before he pulls it out and holds it toward you.

You blink, confused. "What's this?"

And then you open it.

A delicate gold chain, thin and dainty, catches the light. Hanging from it is a tiny handcrafted daisy charm, its petals wired with soft yellow crystals. It's breathtaking.

Your breath catches in your throat. "Jungkook..." Your fingers tremble slightly as you lift it from the box, your voice unsteady. "Is this what you were doing earlier?"

He nods, watching your reaction carefully. "Yeah." A pause. "Do you like it?"

You swallow hard, staring down at the necklace, overwhelmed. "Jungkook, I love it." Then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, quiet but certain.

"I love you."

Your fingers tighten around the delicate chain as you look up at him, eyes still wide with awe. "Help me put it on?" you ask softly, already turning around.

Jungkook swallows, his throat bobbing. "Yeah," he murmurs, almost to himself.

You lift your hair out of the way, exposing the curve of your neck. There's a beat of silence, and then you feel his fingers, warm, gentle, brushing over your skin as he gathers your hair to one side. His touch is featherlight, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

Then, he leans in.

His lips press to your shoulder, soft and lingering. The kiss is barely there, but it sears into your skin like a quiet confession.

Your breath stutters.

Behind you, Jungkook exhales slowly, steadying himself before he focuses on the necklace. His large hands fumble slightly with the tiny clasp, careful not to tug too hard. The contrast between his broad fingers and the delicate gold makes your heart clench painfull, because it's so intimate, so deliberate, like he's putting a piece of himself on you.

finaly, he hooks it in place, his fingertips grazing the nape of your neck as he lets the chain settle against your collarbones.

"There," he murmurs, voice low and affectionate. "Perfect."

You turn back around, looking up at him, but Jungkook is already gazing at you like you hung the stars.

Jungkook shifts on his feet, like he's debating something, and then,like he just can't help himself anymore, he reaches into his pocket again.

"I, uh—" He pulls out a small, crocheted plushie, a tiny yellow blob with stubby little arms and the cutest embroidered face. "Here."

Your eyes widen instantly. "Oh my god. You got it?!"

Jungkook smirks, arms crossing over his chest, clearly pleased with himself. "Don't think I didn't see you eyeing it down earlier."

You take it from him, cradling it in your palms like it's the most precious thing in the world. It's soft, hand-stitched, and so ridiculously adorable. "Jungkook," you whisper, looking up at him, "this is the cutest thing ever."

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but the tips of his ears are pink. "Yeah, well," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "Figured you'd like it."

You do.

Without thinking, you hug it to your chest and then,because it's not enough,you step closer and wrap your arms around him too. His body tenses for just a second before he melts, instantly pulling you in, arms locking around your waist.

And standing there, pressed against him, with the tiny plush squished between you. Jungkook holds you tighter.

Jungkook takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as he tugs you toward the door. "Let's go."

You plop the plushie down on the counter, giving it one last squeeze before slipping on your bag. Meanwhile, Jungkook grabs his shoes, sliding them on with ease before reaching for your hand again, leading you outside.

The moment the cold air hits you, regret slams into your chest. The dress? Immediate mistake.

A gust of wind rushes past, sending chills up your spine and whipping your hair into your face. The silky fabric of your dress is absolutely no help, fluttering wildly around your legs.

Jungkook bursts out laughing.

You, on the other hand, are struggling—heels wobbling, arms instinctively crossing over yourself for warmth. "Stop laughing!" you whine, shivering as you try to keep your dress from flying up.

"C'mon, let's warm up," he grins, tugging you forward.

And then, without warning, he takes off running toward the car, still holding your hand.

"Jungkook, I'm in heels!" you shout, struggling to keep up, but he just laughs, pulling you along anyway.

You're both half-running, half-stumbling through the cold, giggling like kids as you finally make it to the car. When you reach the door, Jungkook quickly unlocks it, ushering you inside first before sliding in after you.

The second the doors shut, you both exhale, breathless and laughing, cheeks pink from the cold.

Jungkook shakes his head, grinning at you. "That was cute."

You roll your eyes, still shivering. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe." He turns on the heater, rubbing his hands together for warmth before reaching over and grabbing your hands, bringing them to his lips to blow warm air over your fingers.

"What is your thing with getting me to do these strenuous ass activities? You're the one enlisting, not me."

Jungkook just grins, turning in his seat to face you fully. "Maybe you just have shit stamina."

Your breath catches.

The double meaning is immediate, and your entire face heats up before you can stop it. "Oh my god," you mutter, looking away, but it's already too late.

Jungkook notices instantly. His eyes widen, and then his grin turns downright mischievous. "Wait—" He leans in slightly, inspecting your reaction. "I didn't mean it like— wait, ARE YOU BLUSHING?"

His giggle bursts out, full and bright, and he nudges you playfully while you groan, covering your face with your hands.

"Stop laughing," you whine, mortified.

"I can't," he wheezes, barely containing himself. "That was so unintentional, but now I can't unsee it."

"Jungkook," you glare at him through your fingers, "Youre annoying."

"No, you are," he teases, still giggling, eyes sparkling with pure amusement. "And apparently, you love when I talk about your stamina too."

You shove his shoulder. "Oh my god—drive."

But he just laughs again, shaking his head as he finally puts the car into gear, looking way too pleased with himself.

The car hums softly as Jungkook drives, the city lights stretching into golden blurs against the window. Your legs are crossed, hands tucked under your thighs for warmth, when he suddenly picks up his phone at a red light and scrolls through something. A second later, a melody plays through the car speakers—soft, raw, and hauntingly stunning

It's his voice.

Your brows knit together as you listen, the delicate notes filling the space between you. "Is this yours?" you ask quietly, turning to him.

Jungkook swallows, his fingers tightening around the wheel. "Yeah," he murmurs, glancing at you quickly before looking back at the road. "It's called Decalcomania."

Your lips part slightly as he hums along with the intro, his voice lower than usual, almost nervous. And then the first line comes.

"When I see you smile in the screen

You're good at everything

You're just perfect

Feels like I've never been you."

Something shifts inside your chest.

You blink, watching him carefully now. His knuckles are tense around the wheel, jaw clenched ever so slightly, but he's not saying anything—just waiting.

"Do you even see me?

Do you know who I am?

Or how do I look now?

You don't like me like that."

A lump forms in your throat.

Your mind flashes through the past few months, all the moments you had with him—the teasing, the tension, the way his eyes always softened when he looked at you. But this—this—is different.

"Come and tell me so much, you beautiful heart

Oh, I'm gonna listen to you

Please."

his voice in the song is desperate, aching, yearning.

Your breath stutters.

All the numbers too big

Can't get out of your game

Oh I want to paint it like you

Please

And when he finally risks a glance at you, his eyes filled with a quiet, vulnerable kind of intensity, you know.

It's about you.

He wrote this about you.

I want to be your decalcomania

I want you

I want to be your decalcomania

I want...

I want you

A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. Then another.

Jungkook notices immediately. "Baby—"

You sniffle, covering your mouth with your hand. "Oh my god, Jungkook."

His foot eases off the gas a little as he reaches over, thumb swiping under your eye, catching the tear before it falls further. "Why are you crying?" he whispers, his own voice thick with emotion.

"You wrote this thinking about me?" Your voice wobbles.

He nods, throat bobbing. "Of course I did."

Your eyes squeeze shut as another tear spills over. "I love you," you whisper, voice cracking under the weight of it all.

Jungkook exhales shakily, like he's been holding his breath this entire time. "I love you," he echoes, his fingers squeezing yours over the center console.

You've seriously never been more in love in your entire life.

The drive is quiet after that. soft and, lingering. You don't say much, but you don't need to. Jungkook's hand stays on your thigh, warm and grounding, his thumb tracing slow circles into your skin.

The city lights blur past the window as he takes the highway, then the roads start getting quieter, more secluded. You glance at the clock once, but then decide against it, time doesn't really matter right now.

Eventually, Jungkook pulls into a private driveway, the car gliding smoothly to a stop. Your eyes widen as you take in the restaurant in front of you. It's not just fancy—it's insanely private, the kind of place where the exterior alone looks like a piece of art. There are only a handful of tables inside, and from what you can tell, not a single other soul is here.

"Jungkook," you say slowly, "where is this?"

He turns off the engine, looking at you with that same soft intensity that's been there all night. "A date," he answers simply, lips quirking.

You blink. "But there's literally no one else here."

Jungkook unbuckles his seatbelt and shrugs, like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Yeah. I booked it out for us."

Your jaw drops. "You didn't."

He grins, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I did. Just us."

Your heart clenches so tight it hurts. "Oh my god, stop. This is so beautiful," you whisper, voice barely above a breath.

Jungkook just smiles, squeezing your hand before stepping out of the car. You follow, the cold air biting at your skin again, but you barely register it now. Because as you step inside, the warmth of the restaurant surrounds you, and it's stunning.

It's fancy, but not overly modern. The lighting is soft and golden, flickering from the candles that sit on each polished table. The decor is elegant. earthy, intimate, and with hints of wood and deep, rich tones. It's the kind of place that feels timeless.

"You like it?" Jungkook asks, watching your reaction closely.

You turn to him, eyes shining. "I love it."

And the way he smiles at you then, like you're the only thing in the world that matters, makes you feel like you could cry all over again.

The moment you step inside, a well-dressed waiter greets you with a polite smile. He's young, probably around your age, and smooth with his words, his eyes lingering on you just a second longer than necessary.

Jungkook clocks it immediately.

"Right this way," the waiter says, leading you toward your table. You follow easily, completely oblivious to the way Jungkook's entire posture shifts. His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing slightly, and before you can take another step, his hand finds your waist.

Notjust resting there—gripping.

You barely notice, too focused on admiring the restaurant, but Jungkook does it with purpose. His fingers press firmly against the silk of your dress, thumb brushing against your side, holding you close as if to remind both you and the waiter exactly who you're here with.

When you reach the table, the waiter pulls out a chair for you, flashing another easygoing smile. "Can I get you anything to drink?" he asks, and again, his eyes flicker over you, lingering.

You don't think much of it, you're used to people being friendly, especially after working at the diner for so long. You just return the smile politely. "Oh, um—"

"A bottle of red," Jungkook cuts in smoothly before you can even decide. His voice is casual, but there's an unmistakable edge to it. "Something good."

The waiter glances at Jungkook then, as if only now acknowledging his presence. "Of course," he says, before turning to leave.

As soon as he's gone, Jungkook exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

"What?" you ask, glancing at him curiously.

"Nothing." He leans back in his chair, eyes still subtly following the waiter's retreating figure. Then, he scoffs under his breath, muttering, "Do guys always flirt with you like that?"

You blink. "Flirt? Jungkook, he was just being nice.*"

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. "Nice?" He tilts his head. "Baby, he was two seconds away from asking for your number."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, please. I deal with worse at the diner."

Jungkook looks personally offended by that. "Worse?" His hand finds your knee under the table, gripping gently. "And you just let that happen?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Jungkook, it's not that serious."

"It is to me," he murmurs, eyes dark and unreadable. His fingers tighten just slightly, his thumb tracing warm, lazy circles over your skin.

Your breath catches, heat crawling up your spine.

Yeah. He's definitely not over it.

The moment the waiter returns, Jungkook already looks annoyed. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched, his fingers drumming against the table like he's barely holding back from saying something.

And then, just as the waiter places the wine bottle down, he subtly slides a neatly folded napkin toward you.

Jungkook sees it immediately.

"do you serve all your bottles of wine with that?" he deadpans, his voice sharp enough to cut through glass.

The waiter visibly stiffens, eyes darting between you and Jungkook, suddenly realizing he might've made a very big mistake.

You, on the other hand, have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

Because Jungkook? Oh, he's pissed.

The poor guy turns red, clearing his throat awkwardly before hurriedly snatching the napkin back. "Enjoy your wine," he mutters, practically fleeing from the table.

You round on Jungkook the second he's gone. "What the fuck was that?"

Jungkook blinks, feigning innocence. "What? He left you his number, idiot."

"And?" you scoff. "That's exactly what you did when we met."

"Yeah, I know," Jungkook admits shamelessly, leaning back in his chair. Then, after a beat, he adds, "But it worked when I did it."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a sigh. "Jungkook, it's just you."

His smirk falters slightly. "What?"

You look at him then, really look at him, and squeeze his hand gently. "It's just you."

For a moment, Jungkook just stares. His lips part slightly, eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory.

he smiles. not a cocky smirk, not a teasing grin, but something real. Something soft.

And just like that, all his jealousy melts away.

The food arrives, plated so beautifully that for a second, you just admire it, until you realize how tiny the portions are.

Jungkook immediately gives you a look, like, Yeah, of course.

"This is the type of expensive where the menu doesn't even have prices," you mumble, cutting into your meal. "Scary."

Jungkook smirks, pouring you more wine. "Good thing you don't have to worry about it, huh?"

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your heart flutters at how effortless he makes all of this.

By the time he's ordered his third steak, you're full, but he's definitely not. You can tell by the way he keeps side-eyeing your plate.

"Jungkook," you deadpan, nudging it toward him.

"What?" he feigns innocence, but he's already cutting into your steak with a little too much enthusiasm.

You sigh, deciding to mess with him. Instead of using your knife, you stab a piece with your fork, not at all elegantly, and hold it up.

Jungkook snorts. "You're really about to feed me like this?"

"Take it or leave it," you tease, wiggling the fork in front of his face.

He laughs, loud, carefree, before dramatically leaning forward and biting into it straight from the fork. His teeth chomp down exaggeratedly, and you nearly lose it when a couple of waiters glance over, looking mildly horrified.

"Oh my god," you whisper, covering your mouth. "They're staring."

Jungkook just chews smugly, completely unbothered. "They've clearly never seen fine dining before."

Jungkook polishes off the last bite from your plate like a man on a mission, but then, all of a sudden, his face shifts, his expression faltering for just a second.

You catch it immediately. "Wait... was it too much?"

"No," he says quickly, though the way he exhales after is not very convincing. "I'm just…. I'm just stirring."

Your eyebrows knit together. "You're stirring?"

"Yeah, like—like the food is just settling," he says, trying to play it off.

It takes all of two seconds for you to connect the dots. "Oh my god, you totally ate too much."

"I'm fine."

"You're totally not…" You lean forward, grinning at him. "This is what happens when you eat three steaks."

"Hey, they only served me half each time, so technically it was just one and a half," he argues.

"Whatever you say."

You shake your head in amusement and check your phone absentmindedly when a notification lights up the screen. The time catches your eye. 9:30 PM.

You quickly set your phone down, shaking your head slightly. You don't even say anything, but Jungkook picks up on it instantly. His fingers tighten slightly around yours on the table, and when you glance at him, there's understanding in his eyes.

He doesn't say anything about it. Just gives your hand a little squeeze before suddenly inhaling like he's made a decision.

"Ihave something to tell you," he says.

You tilt your head, watching him. "What?"

Jungkook shifts in his seat, his thumb running circles over the back of your hand. "I love you."

You blink. "You already told me this a million times."

Jungkook shakes his head. "No, I don't think I ever really told you properly."

That makes you pause. You straighten up, sensing the sincerity behind his words. "You did. At the beach."

He exhales a soft laugh, then laces his fingers fully with yours. "I love you so much. I think I've confessed about four times, but I can't help myself. But take this as my proper one."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh, so you just wanted to do it in a fancy restaurant?"

"No." His lips curve, eyes warm as he watches you. "I wanted to do it now. Because it felt right."

His voice drops slightly, a raw honesty slipping through. "You know, I always say I love you because it just feels so easy to say. But it's more than that."

Your breath stills as he leans forward, his gaze holding you in place.

"I love the way you wake up in the morning, all groggy and confused."

"I love how you get excited over the smallest things—like your little weird…pastel yellow plushie obsession."

"I love how simple you are. Not in a bad way—just... you don't need much to be happy, and that's one of the most beautiful things about you."

His voice softens even more. "I love how fun you are. I love how you look, your eyes, your nose, your lips, your hair."

"I love how you talk, the way you articulate things. The way you move through the world. The way you smile. The way you laugh. The way you get mad at me."

His lips curl into a smirk. "That one's kinda hot, by the way."

You gasp and smack his arm. "Don't ruin the moment."

Jungkook chuckles, but his grip on your hand tightens slightly, grounding you. "I love every single part of you. And I want you to know that."

His touch lingers. His eyes search yours.

Your throat tightens as the weight of his confession settles over you.

"Jungkook..." You barely get his name out, your voice whispery, breath shaky.

He doesn't rush you. He just watches, his thumb smoothing over the back of your hand, letting you find your words.

And when you finally do, your eyes are glassy, your grip on him tightening. "I love you so much. I don't... know what I'll do when you're gone."

Jungkook's lips part slightly, his expression shifting into something softer, something deeper.

Your breath wavers. "I love everything about you. I love Jungkook—the idol. The one everyone sees. I love how much you love your fans, how much passion you put into your work. How you once told me you wanted to be an artist, and yet you're already the most artistic person I've ever seen."

He swallows thickly, his eyes not once leaving you.

"You capture things in a way no one else does. With your music. With your stupid, big-ass camera." You let out a breathy laugh, wiping at your cheek before looking back at him. "You always say you're just trying things out, but you don't even realize how talented you are."

Jungkook exhales, shaking his head slightly, but you don't let him deflect.

"But I also love you—you. The person behind jungkook. The person who smiles at me when he thinks I'm not looking. The person who hums under his breath when he's happy. The person who—" You pause, a small grin forming, "—has the cutest little moles."

Jungkook blinks, caught off guard. "My moles?"

You nod, eyes twinkling through your tears. "Yeah. You have a really cute one right here."

Your fingers brush gently under his chin, right over the tiny mole there. His skin burns under your touch, a soft pink rising to his cheeks.

Before he can say anything, you lean over the table awkwardly, pressing a delicate kiss to the spot.

His breath stutters, his entire face now a deep shade of red. "Stop," he murmurs, utterly flustered.

You grin. "You're like a chocolate chip cookie."

Jungkook groans, hiding his face in his hands. "Oh my god, shut up."

You giggle, squeezing his fingers between yours. "Anyway."

He peeks at you through his hands, still completely red, but he's smiling.

And you continue.

"I love your eyes, your nose, your lips—" Your voice softens, "I love your voice. God, I love your voice. I love when you hum, when you sing, when you talk to me about the most random things."

Jungkook watches you like you've just knocked the wind out of him.

"I love the way you treat me. I love that, even though the world sees you as this extravagant, larger-than-life person, I know you're just as simple as I am." You give his hand one last squeeze. "Just a boy who loves music. Just a boy who loves steak way too much."

Jungkook laughs, his eyes shining, his grip on you unwavering.

"Just a boy who I love. So, so much."

Jungkook is looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Like you're the only thing that matters.

And for a long moment, neither of you speak. You just sit there, fingers interlocked across the table, your thumbs brushing over each other's skin, your hearts beating in sync.

It's comfortable. It's warm. It's everything.

Until the moment is rudely shattered by the waiter clearing his throat beside the table.

Jungkook scoffs, visibly annoyed, and you quickly recognize the waiter. it's the same one who had been flirting with you earlier.

The poor guy is now shakily reaching for the plates, avoiding Jungkook's stare entirely, but before he can clear the table—

"Did we say we were done?" Jungkook deadpans, one brow raised.

Your eyes widen. "Jungkook," you whisper, kicking him under the table.

He immediately glares at you, but you flash an apologetic smile to the waiter. "Sorry. Do you mind waiting just a little longer?"

The waiter, still looking a little pale, nods quickly. "Of course! My apologies." He scurries off, leaving Jungkook still grumbling under his breath.

You turn back to him, barely holding back a giggle. "Hey, stop. You're literally a kid."

Jungkook huffs. "I don't care. You're mine."

Your face heats up, but you roll your eyes, nudging his foot under the table again. "Oh, shut up."

But then an idea pops into your head, and your grin widens. "Wanna get shitty ice cream again?"

Jungkook freezes. "Oh my god, absolutely not. We are not driving two hours for ice cream again."

You laugh. "Not two hours! I know a place near the diner where you can get it."

He eyes you suspiciously before exhaling. "Fine. Yeah, sure." Then, his lips curl up. "And after that? The field?"

You nod. "The field."

Jungkook grins, and before you can say anything else, you're both getting up.

You run ahead, giggling, and Jungkook follows. his hand immediately finding yours again as soon as you're outside.

You slide into the car with a sigh, already feeling the ache in your feet from the heels you've been wearing all night. Without hesitation, you reach down and slip them off, letting out a small hum of relief.

"Finally," you mutter, stretching out your legs.

Jungkook barely glances at you as he starts the car, but the moment you prop your legs up on his dashboard, he does a double take.

"Hey—!" His brows furrow, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other swats at your ankles. "Get your stinky feet off my car."

You gasp dramatically. "Excuse me?! My feet are not stinky!"

"Debatable."

Narrowing your eyes, you smirk. "Oh, yeah?" And before he can react, you wiggle your toes dangerously close to his face, nudging his cheek playfully.

"*Oh my god—" Jungkook groans, jerking away, but he's laughing. "Stop!"

"Nope." You push them closer, grinning when he lets out a dramatic sigh—until suddenly—

He bites you.

"Jungkook—!" You shriek, jerking your foot back in absolute horror. "*What the fuck?!"

Jungkook is already cackling, his shoulders shaking as he reaches out, catching your ankles before you can pull them away completely. "Sorry," He doesn't sound sorry at all. "Couldn't resist."

You glare at him, crossing your arms, but then he does something that makes your breath hitch.

Instead of letting go, he settles your feet into his lap, his fingers idly tracing the skin where he bit you. His touch is warm, barely there, his thumb skimming slow circles along your ankle.

Your body suddenly feels too hot.

The car hums around you as he pulls onto the road, one hand steady on the wheel, the other still resting lazily on your shin. You lean against the door, your temple pressed to the cool glass, but your focus is entirely on the feeling of Jungkook's fingers drifting absentmindedly over your legs.

His touch is light anf casual but the warmth of his palm sends a shiver up your spine. And, he looks good like this. One hand gripping the steering wheel, his jaw flexing as he shifts gears, the dim glow of the streetlights casting sharp shadows over his face.

you don't think your heart has ever beat this fast in your life.

——

you arrive near the diner, parking a little further away, right outside a small convenience store. The moment Jungkook spots the freezer outside, identical to the one from that little village, he groans, hes so dramatic.

"God, I already know this is gonna be terrible," he complains, shaking his head.

"Look, they have soo many flavors," you counter, tugging on his sleeve. "Come on, let's go."

You reach down to grab your heels from where you discarded them earlier, but before you can even think about slipping them back on, Jungkook beats you to it. He walks around to your side, opens the door like a total gentleman, and then, kneels down. On the actual pavement.

ur breath catches as he carefully slides the heels onto your feet, his fingers brushing against your ankles. And then,he presses a kiss to the top of your foot like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Fucking hell.

You don't even have time to process it because he just takes your hand and starts walking toward the store like nothing just happened. And what's worse? He doesn't seem to care about any of the people who might be watching. It's late, so the streets near the diner aren't too busy, but still. The risk is there. You just don't say anything about it.

the second you reach the freezer, you grab the same strawberry ice cream from last time, earning a scoff from Jungkook. "You're not even gonna try another flavor?" he teases.

"Nuh uh. The strawberry one was so good last time, I have to get it again."

He huffs but then softens. "I'll buy you a million of them."

Your face heats up, and you mumble something about turning pink from the ice cream, brushing it off with a laugh. Jungkook, meanwhile, initially picks vanilla, calling it the "safest flavor," before something catches his eye.

A banana ice cream.

The vanilla is abandoned so fast that you actually burst out laughing as he grabs the banana one instead.

of course, he pays. obviously.

Back in the car, you take a bite of your ice cream immediately, humming in delight.

Jungkook eyes his own ice cream warily “…im scared to try this."

He finally takes a bite, and immediately gags. "Oh, fucking gross. It's gross."

you laugh at the sheer pout on his face. "I thought it would taste good because it's banana," he grumbles.

"Let me try."

You take a bite, and it's actually really fucking good. Before you know it, you've got both ice creams in your hands, switching between them like some kind of dessert thief. Jungkook just chuckles, shaking his head at you.

"You literally just stole my ice cream."

You shush him, laughing it off before he puts the car in drive, throwing your legs onto his lap.

You know it's slightly inconvenient for him because of the gear shift, or whatever it's called—the car stick thing—but he doesn't complain. He just awkwardly reaches over when he needs to, his hand brushing against your thigh each time. You catch the slight press of his lips, the way his fingers flex on the wheel like he's concentrating a little harder than necessary, but he doesn't say a word. And you? You're too comfortable to move.

You watch the city lights blur past, ice cream melting against your tongue, time slipping away faster than you can hold onto it.

And then, just like that, you're pulling up to the field.

Your heart sinks.

Because this was it. The last thing you'd planned for the night. The final stop before what? Before reality? Before something shifts again?

You check the time. 10:30, maybe closer to 11. You blink at your phone screen. It feels impossible. Like the hours had been slipping through your fingers like sand, faster and faster, and now, suddenly, you're running out.

You shake it off before it settles too deep in your chest. No use in mourning something that hasn't ended yet.

The two of you just sit there for a while, staring at the sign ahead, the sky yawning wide and dark above you. Jungkook exhales, leans his head back against the seat.

"remembere how I told you this was where I came to cool off?" His voice is soft, thoughtful.

You nod. “The day you found out I was leaving," he continues, fingers tapping absentmindedly on your shin, "I actually came here."

Your breath stills.

Jungkook turns his head slightly, eyes locked on the field ahead. "From that day, I knew this place would never be the same again. Not without you."

And just like that, the night air feels heavier. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken things. You don't know what to say, so you don't.

You just let it play out.

Eventually, you both decide to actually walk to the field.

It's almost instinct, the way your bodies move, the way your feet find the familiar path without needing to think. jungkook knows it way better than you, he always has, but still, you walk side by side, like you've done so many times before.

The night air is cool against your skin, the quiet hum of crickets filling the space between your words, or lack thereof. And when you finally reach your spot, you notice the subtle changes.

The patches of grass where you've sat before are slightly worn, flattened from past nights spent here. the lights, the ones you strung up together ages ago, are still there, tangled and weathered but intact.

Jungkook steps ahead, reaching for them. He flicks the switch, and somehow they still work.

the glow isn't as bright as it once was, flickering in some places, dimmer in others, but it's enough.

jungkook lets out a small, satisfied breath before turning back to you, taking a seat on the ground. Without thinking, you do the same, not caring in the slightest that your dress is getting ruined in the process.

Jungkook notices, though.

He huffs, shaking his head as he shrugs off his leather jacket, the one he'd grabbed from the car earlier, and lays it down on the grass. Then he looks at you, expectant. "Sit on this."

You scoff. "It's fine."

"No, sit."

"Jungkook—"

"Yeah." He says it like that's the end of the conversation, nodding once like you don't have a choice.

And maybe you don't, because with the way he's looking at you, the way he's already patting the space beside him, you just roll your eyes and sit back down.

And the night goes on.

The night is dark. so much darker than you remember. The fairy lights barely make a difference anymore, their glow faint and flickering, swallowed whole by the vast, empty field.

Silence sits between you, thick and heavy, but it's never been uncomfortable with Jungkook. Except now now, there's something different.

u feel it before you see it. The way his body shakes more than usual, the uneven rise and fall of his chest, the way his breath hitches every few seconds.

And when you look up, you see the tears.

He's covering his face, trying to wipe them away quickly, his fingers pressing into his eyes like he can stop them by force. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, voice strained and broken. "I don't wanna ruin it. Just—just ignore me."

You don't.

Instead, you reach for his wrists, gently pulling them away from his face. He's always comforted you so its your turn now. You've had enough of him apologizing, of pretending he's okay when he's clearly falling apart.

His hands tremble in yours, but you don't let go. You guide them down to his lap, and then you're cupping his face, tilting it toward you.

Jungkook sniffles, blinking rapidly, and before he can say anything, before he can tell you again that he's fine, you press your lips to his.

It's not desperate, not rushed. It's slow, soft, steady. But more than that, it's warm. Safe. You let your lips brush against the tear tracks on his cheeks, wiping them away with every kiss, like you can kiss away his sadness if you try hard enough.

And he sobs into your mouth.

His body shakes even harder, his fingers curling into the fabric of your dress, gripping onto you like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.

"You're okay," you whisper against his lips, not sure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.

But he isn't. Not really. Because the next thing you know, he's breaking all over again, sobbing into your shoulder like he did this morning—like a child, raw and unfiltered.

"I don't wanna leave," he chokes out. "I don't want this to end."

His words come out rushed, jumbled together between his gasping breaths. "I don't wanna leave you, I don't wanna leave my family, I don't wanna leave anyone—"

And that's when you realize.

It's bigger than you, bigger than this moment, bigger than anything you can fix with a simple kiss.

So you don't try.

You just hold him,

You let him bury his face into your chest, let him soak your dress in tears, let him fall apart completely. And when his breathing gets too ragged, when he starts to spiral, you cup his face again, guiding his teary eyes to yours.

"Breathe," you tell him softly.

And he does. Slowly, shakily, he does.

Jungkook sits beside you, knees drawn up, forearms resting on them as he stares out into the horizon. He hasn't said much since he stopped cdying, but you don't push him.

Not yet.

"I don't think I've ever really had friends."

You turn to look at him, your brows furrowing at the sudden confession. His gaze stays locked on the horizon, but there's something distant in his eyes, something lost in the past.

"I mean, I've had people around me my whole life," he continues, his voice low, careful. "My members, my fans... they're everything to me. But I never really had the time to—" He pauses, exhaling sharply through his nose. "I never got to just... be a kid. You know? Goof off with friends after school, sneak out late, fall in love in a normal way."

Your heart clenches.

He finally turns to you then, a small, almost apologetic smile on his lips. "That's probably why I'm so bad at this. At us." His fingers toy with the loose thread on his sleeve. "I've never done this before. Not like this."

There's a quiet ache in his voice that makes your throat tighten.

You don't even think, your arms move on their own, pulling him in gently, and to your surprise, he lets you. He leans into you, head resting against your chest, his ear right over your heartbeat. His breath is warm against your skin, and when he exhales, it's shaky.

"I feel bad for my mom and dad, too," he murmurs after a moment. "I know they're proud of me. But I feel like I was gone before they even had the chance to hold on. Like I ran out of time with them before I even realized what I was missing."

You run your fingers through his hair, slow, comforting. He presses closer.

"I guess that's why I've always been so attached to my fans," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "It sounds stupid, but I really do believe they're my friends. It's the closest thing I've ever had to that kind of connection." His thumb strokes mindless patterns against your wrist. "That's why I go live so much. Why I try to talk to them whenever I can. It makes the loneliness feel a little less... heavy."

Your chest tightens at his words.

You've always known Jungkook as the golden boy, the superstar, the performer, the one who shines effortlessly on stage. But here, like this, in your arms, he's just a boy who never got the chance to live the way he wanted. A boy who's spent his whole life giving himself to the world, never knowing what it felt like to have someone to fall back on.

And now, for the first time, he does.

You.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, feeling the way his body relaxes against you, the weight of his emotions finally settling. He lets out a deep breath, like he's been holding it in for too long.

"You're not alone, Jungkook," you whisper, your chin resting against his hair. "Not anymore."

He doesn't say anything right away, but his fingers tighten around yours, holding on like he believes you.

Like he finally has something to hold on to.

"But you..." He finally turns to face you, and the way he's looking at you makes your breath hitch. His eyes are dark, glassy, filled with something too big for words. "You're different. This—" He gestures vaguely between you. "I've never had this before. I don't even know if I'm doing it right."

He laughs, but it's hollow.

"I probably messed everything up, didn't I?" His voice cracks, and suddenly, he's folding in on himself, elbows digging into his knees, hands running down his face. "I should have told you sooner. I should have—I don't know. I don't even know what I should have done, I just—"

His breath shudders, and that's when you realize—he's crying again.

It starts off quiet, just a few shaky exhales, but then it breaks. His shoulders tremble, his hands curl into fists, and suddenly he's sobbing, everything he's held in for so long spilling out all at once.

"I always run out of time." His voice is raw, wrecked. "With everything. With everyone. And now I finally have something that feels—" He squeezes his eyes shut. "I finally have you and I—" His breath stutters. "I'm leaving."

You don't say anything. You just watch him.

Because this isn't something you can fix.

He needs to feel this.

His hands are shaking, so you reach out slowly, carefull, nd take them in yours. Thread your fingers through his. Squeeze. Not to tell him it's okay, not to tell him to stop crying, just to let him know you're here.

And that's when he breaks completely, his whole body shudders, and before you can even process it, he's leaning into you, forehead pressing against your shoulder, hands gripping your waist like you're the only thing keeping him from falling apart entirely.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice muffled against you. "I'm so fucking sorry."

And then, quieter, like it's something he isn't supposed to say. something he knows he shouldn't say, "Please don't leave me."

Your breath catches.

"I know it's selfish." His voice is shaking, hands gripping you tighter. "It's so fucking selfish of me to ask you to wait. To make you wait. To make everyone wait. My family, my fans, you—"

His voice breaks.

"But I—" A sharp inhale. "I don't want to do this and come back to nothing. To no one."

The words tear out of him, raw and desperate.

"I know I don't deserve to ask you this. I just—" He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head like he hates himself for saying it. "Please."

And then, so quietly you almost don't hear it:

He exhales, voice shaking.

"I thought it was just... part of who I am, you know? That I'd always feel a little bit empty, always be searching for something I couldn't name."

He swallows, eyes flickering up to meet yours, wet and shining under the moonlight.

"I never thought it would be a person. I never thought you—" He lets out a weak laugh, shaking his head, like he can't believe it. "—would fill it so effortlessly."

Your chest tightens.

Because it's not a confession. Not in the traditional sense. It's bigger than that.

"I'll be here."

Jungkook stills.

For a moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Then, slowly, his grip on you tightens, and his body sags against yours, like something inside him has given up.

You don't tell him that when he actually leaves, when he's actually gone, that's when you'll break.

You don't tell him how hard it'll be to wake up in the morning knowing he won't be around to tease you, to text you, to steal your food or show up unannounced just to see you.

You don't tell him how much this already hurts.

You just let him hold you. Because you know. And he knows. And for tonight, that has to be enough.

The stars are scattered like quiet secrets above you, and the moon hangs full and heavy in the sky, bathing the world in silver.

Jungkook tilts his head back, eyes tracing the constellations, his beanie pulled low over his ears. He hasnt even fidgeted or hummed like he usually does. He just sits there, looking, like he's trying to memorize the sky before he has to go.

You want to memorize him.

So you do the only thing you can tk save the moment, you pull out your phone, angling it carefully, making sure the screen's brightness is low, and press the shutter. The soft click of the camera is barely audible, but Jungkook still shifts, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

His brows furrow. "Did you just—"

"No," you lie, tucking your phone away.

His lips twitch, like he wants to argue, but instead, he sighs. Then, slowly, he reaches up and pulls off his beanie.

And your chest tightens.

His hair is so much shorter now, it's buzzed, not enough to fall over his forehead, the dark strands shaped close to his head. He runs a hand over it, almost self-consciously, his jaw flexing before he glances at you.

"Looks weird, huh?"

You shake your head before he can even finish the thought.

"No."

His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, like he doesn't quite believe you. Like this is another thing he has to grapple with, another piece of himself he has to let go of.

So you shift closer, reaching for him before he can shrink away. Your palms are warm against his jaw, thumbs brushing over the sharp lines of his cheekbones. He stills.

"You're perfect to me."

The words are so soft, barely a whisper between you.

You trace the space where his lip ring used to be, your fingertips ghosting over the smooth skin. Then up, over his cupid's bow, over the slope of his nose, the arch of his brows, the sharp edges and soft curves that make up him.

Jungkook swallows hard, eyes searching yours, dark and wide. His hands hover at your waist, like he doesn't know what to do with them, like he's bracing himself.

"You know how blind people recognize the people they love?" you murmur, running your fingers over his face like you're memorizing him.

His brows knit together slightly. "What?"

"They touch them. They trace their features with their fingers." Your thumb skims over his cheekbone, down to the sharp cut of his jaw. "If I went blind, I think I'd still know you."

His breath hitches.

He doesn't say anything.

Doesn't have to say anything.

Because the way he looks at you, like you just shattered him and put him back together in the same breath, is enough.

you feel shudder in his breath. The way his shoulders tremble just slightly. The quiet sniffle he tries to suppress but fails.

"Don't ever apologize for this," you finally say, your voice quiet but firm, the weight of it settling between you. "None of this is your fault. You didn't choose this. You didn't ask to be put under a microscope your whole life, to have to give up so much just to do what you love. You didn't ask to leave the people you care about for nearly two years, to put your life on pause while everything else keeps moving. So don't—don't say sorry. Not for this."

You swallow hard, feeling the sting at the back of your throat, but you don't let it break you. Not yet.

"I'll miss you so much" you admit, softer now, fingers tightening slightly where they rest against his arm. "I already miss you, and you haven't even left yet. And I know it's going to be hard. I know there are going to be days where it's unbearable, where I won't know what to do with myself, where I'll hear something stupid on the news or see some ridiculous article, and I won't be able to just text you and ask if you're okay. I know there will be days where you feel alone, where you're frustrated, where you wish you could turn back time or make it go faster. And I hate that. I hate that for you, for me, for all of it."

You exhale shakily, blinking away the heat behind your eyes.

"But you're worth waiting for."

The words slip out easily, as natural as breathing.

"You are worth every single second, every single day, every moment in between. And when you come back, whenever that is, I'll still be here. I don't care how much time passes, I don't care what people say, I don't care if it's selfish or unrealistic or whatever else. You're worth it. And I'd wait a hundred years if I had to."

Your voice wavers slightly on the last word, and you bite your lip, tilting your head back slightly, forcing yourself to breathe through it. You won't cry. Not now. Not yet.

Instead, you look at him, really look at him. At the unshed tears clinging to his lashes, the way his breath stutters unevenly in his chest, the way he clings to you like you're the only thing keeping him grounded.

"So don't—don't waste your energy feeling guilty. Just... be okay, Jungkook. Take care of yourself. Get through this. And when you come back—" your voice catches just slightly, but you push through it, offering the faintest smile, "—I'll be right here.

And then, without another word, Jungkook leans in. it's slow, deep. each movement carries the weight of everything he hasn't been able to say. His hands come up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing along your jaw, feeling the contours of you just like you did, as if he's memorisijg the moment. It's almost like time stops, everything around you blurring away.

when you pull apart, there's no awkwardness, just a heavy silence that hangs between you both. You both know what's coming, but neither of you is ready to say it yet.

Without breaking the quiet, you tug gently on the hem of his hoodie, nudging him down beside you. He doesn't hesitate, just follows you, the pull of the moment too strong to resist.

You lie down together on the cool grass, the sky above slowly darkening into a blanket of stars. The silence isn't uncomfortable, it's the kind of quiet where you both understand everything without having to speak. Your head turns slightly to look at him, and you feel his gaze on you, even if you're not sure if he's looking at the sky, or at you.

A soft laugh escapes him. "You're gonna get your dress all dirty, you know."

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. "You're such a dork."

The teasing lightens the air, and for a moment, it feels like things are just as they should be. He glances up at the stars, but you can feel the shift. he's not looking at the sky anymore. His focus is on you.

"You know," you murmur quietly, "the stars don't look as pretty as they did the last time we were here."

He hums, a sound that vibrates deep in his chest. "Yeah... I think I know why," he says softly, though his eyes are still on you, tracing every little detail of your face.

Because you're prettier than any star in the sky could be, he thinks. he knows.

The air feels a little lighter now. The weight of Jungkook's earlier breakdown lingers, but it's softened by the warmth between you. by the laughter that's been spilling from your lips for the past five minutes over something so stupid.

You notice a patch of daisies nearby. You point toward it. "Is that where you pick them from?"

Jungkook follows your gaze, nodding with a small grin. "Yeah. I usually find the best ones there."

You hum in response before pushing yourself up to your feet.

Jungkook tilts his head. "Where are you going?"

You wave a hand at him. "No, stay."

He watches as you walk over, stepping carefully between the clusters of flowers before kneeling down. The grass is soft against your knees, the air cool against your skin, and as you reach forward to pluck a single daisy from the patch, Jungkook subtly lifts his phone.

The shutter clicks.

You don't hear it. You're too focused on standing back up, brushing your hands over your dress before making your way back to him.

Jungkook watches you, eyes warm, lips slightly parted. You're holding the daisy so delicately between your fingers, like it's something special.

And then you stop in front of him, extending it toward him with the sweetest little smile. "Since you always get me some, here's one for you."

Jungkook stares at it for a second, then at you. Then, his lips twist into a teasing pout. "Just one?"

You whine, shifting your weight. "Jungkook, I have a dress on."

He chuckles, reaching out to take the flower from you. "I'm joking. I love it."

And you can tell he does.

He twirls the stem between his fingers, then smooths his thumb over the petals, gentle. so incredibly gentle. His big, rough, tattooed hand contrasts starkly with the fragile daisy, and something about it is just so endearing to watch.

like he's holding something irreplaceable.

Jungkook twirls the daisy between his fingers a couple more times before he tucks it behind his ear, glancing at you with a playful tilt of his head.

"Do I look cute?"

You roll your eyes, but the way your fingers automatically thread through his hair betrays you. "You've always been cute."

Jungkook grins, leaning slightly into your touch before pulling back with a teasing squint. "You know," he starts, "I always pretend I hate it when you call me cute, but I secretly love it."

Your jaw drops. ", I knew it."

He bursts into giggles, eyes crinkling, bunny teeth showing, and god, he is cute. Like, ridiculously cute. But also hot. Like, really fucking hot. It's almost unfair. the way he can switch between the two so effortlessly.

The rough tattoos, the sharp jawline, the way his hands dwarf yours when they intertwine. all of it screams hot. But then he does this. sits there with a tiny daisy tucked behind his ear, giggling like an actual child, dimples deep, nose scrunching—and he's just... adorable.

The duality is insane.

And, honestly? It's been driving you insane too.

Jungkook is still grinning, twirling the daisy between his fingers when he suddenly goes, "You know, I got my schedule this morning."

You blink. "Oh—what is it?"

He pauses for dramatic effect, then sighs. "Well... I feel like we might be being a little bit dramatic."

Your heart stutters. "What?"

"I can visit." He bites back a smile. "Every few weekends."

You just stare at him. "...Seriously?"

He nods, lips quirking up. "I know, right? Like, when I saw it, I was expecting maybe a day off every month, but no—some weekends i don't have to be there." He shakes his head in disbelief. "And, like, some random weekdays too."

Your brain short-circuits. "Are you serious?"

Jungkook's grin widens. "Yeah."

You don't think. you just launch at him, arms flying around his neck as you knock him straight onto the ground. He lets out a surprised laugh as he lands flat on his back, and you're practically squealing, clinging onto him like you never want to let go.

"Jungkook, oh my god—oh my god!!"

He's laughing beneath you, hands coming up to hold your waist, grounding you. "I know."

You pull back just enough to see his face, his bright, shining eyes looking right at you, and you can't even think straight. You're so happy. So stupidly happy.

He's not disappearing.

Not completely.

“Jungkook—, we have to come back here, And—and we have to go to the diner, and then we have to go to another nice village, but obviously not like the last one—"

You're rambling, voice bubbling over with pure joy, listing off all the things you want to do together now that you can. Your heart feels light, your mind racing faster than you can even keep up with.

Jungkook doesn't say anything, just watches you with this impossibly soft look, his hands still steady on your waist, grounding you. He lets you go on, your voice filling the quiet night air, until,

he leans up and presses a quick, sudden kiss to your lips.

It's barely a second, a light peck, nothing deep or demanding—but it shuts you up instantly.

Your eyes widen

Jungkook pulls back, a lazy, satisfied grin curling at his lips. "You were talking too much."

Then, in the midst of it, Jungkook hums, tilting his head slightly. "Do you think I'll see Nari before I go?"

You blink, caught off guard by the shift in conversation. "I'm not sure... If you want, I can get her to come over in the morning?"

Jungkook nods. "Yeah. I just wanna thank her and say goodbye, you know? She's done a lot for me. And obviously, she does a lot for you. I just wanna acknowledge that."

Your heart clenches at that. It's so him—to think about Nari too, to want to express gratitude even in a moment like this.

"Honestly," you murmur, "I feel like I genuinely couldn't do this without her."

Jungkook smiles, rubbing soothing circles into your waist. "Me too. You wouldn't be sat here in front of me without Nari, so—"

"No." You cut him off before he can finish, shaking your head with a soft but sure look in your eyes. "Something would've brought us together anyway."

Jungkook stares at you for a beat, lips parting slightly like he's about to argue—but then he just exhales a small laugh, a little in awe, a little in love. "Yeah?"

You nod, unwavering. "Yeah."

And it's so cute—the way his gaze lingers, the way his lips twitch like he's fighting the urge to grin, like he wants to believe in fate just as much as you do.

At some point, Jungkook pulls out a cig, shifting you off his lap before he stands up. He doesn't say anything, just moves away slightly so you don't have to breathe it in. You watch as he lights it up, taking a slow drag before exhaling into the night air. The faint glow of the ember flickers in the dark, casting soft shadows over his face. He looks really fucking attractive like this—his sharp jawline, the furrow of his brows, the way his lips part ever so slightly as he exhales.

Something about it, about the way he looks right now, or maybe just the mood of the night.makes you feel a little….rebellious.

"Can I try?" you ask suddenly.

Jungkook scoffs, barely sparing you a glance as he takes another drag. "What?”

You pout. "Please? Just one hit."

"No. Why?" He turns to look at you now, eyes narrowed.

You huff, crossing your arms. "I just wanna try."

"Absolutely not."

You pull out the big guns then, jutting your lip out in an exaggerated pout. "Pleaaaase?"

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "Fine. But just the tiniest hit."

You grin, stepping closer as he hands it to you. You take it between your fingers, bring it to your lips, and. immediately regret it. The second you inhale, your throat burns, and you start sputtering, coughing so hard you double over.

Jungkook laughs, taking the cigarette back effortlessly. "See? Told you."

You wave a hand in front of your face, still coughing. "No offense, but how the fuck do you smoke that?"

He shrugs, bringing it back to his lips. "Calms me down."

You wrinkle your nose, still feeling the sting in your throat.

Jungkook takes another slow drag, exhaling into the night before letting out a soft chuckle. "You know, I used to hate how my dad smoked. I promised myself I'd never do it." He shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips. "Look at me now, though."

You watch him quietly, the way the dim light flickers against his features. "To be fair, I don't do it regularly," he continues. "Only when I'm really stressed."

Your brows lift slightly. "Oh... do you feel stressed right now?"

Jungkook shakes his head, exhaling softly. "No, not really. I just don't know when I'm gonna be able to smoke again, to be honest. So I figured, one last smoke here."

You tilt your head. "Do your parents let you do all this? Like, tattoos, piercings, smoking?“

He smirks, turning toward you. "What happened to me being cute?"

You roll your eyes. "You know what I mean."

He laughs, dropping the cigarette to the ground and pressing it out with his shoe. "Nah, my parents never really cared about the tattoos or piercings. That was never a big deal to them. The smoking..." He winces slightly. "Yeah, my mom wasn't thrilled. But she knows I'm not stupid. I don't do it regularly, and she trusts me."

He runs a hand through his hair before letting out another short laugh. "Oh my god, but you should've seen the video that got leaked of me smoking one time. Some fan took a video of me outside a restaurant a long time ago."

"It was weird, 'cause everyone actually backed me up. Like, all the people who usually hate on me were defending me, saying I'm an adult and I can do what I want. It was... nice, for a change."

His voice drops slightly, and his fingers twitch at his sides. "I just wish it was like that for other things."

You know what he means. Relationships. Dating. You.

But you don't say anything.

Jungkook huffs, shaking his head. "I don't know, I just think they pick and choose when to be on my side."

He doesn't look at you when he says it, just stares out at the empty field, like the weight of it all is sinking in again.

Jungkook takes one last drag before flicking the cigarette against the tree, watching the ember flicker for a second before instinctively tossing it to the ground.

You frown. "Jungkook."

He looks at you, confused. "What?"

You just glare at him, arms crossed.

Realization dawns on his face, and he sighs, shaking his head with a small laugh. "Okay, okay," he mutters, bending down to pick it up. He flicks it into a nearby trash can before turning back to you with a teasing grin. "Sorry."

You roll your eyes, but before you can say anything, he steps closer, reaching out to cup your face gently. His fingers thread through your hair, then trail down your arms, gliding over your waist, mapping out every curve of your body in the softest way possible. It's not rushed, not anything more than pure, unfiltered affection. But then,

His hands rest on your hips for a second before giving your ass a… squeeze.

You let out a squeal, swatting at him. "What are you doing?"

Jungkook just grins, tilting his head at you. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

You groan, rolling your eyes. "Always. You always do."

But he just shakes his head, his expression softening. "No, seriously." His thumbs brush against your cheeks, his eyes locked onto yours with that deep, unwavering gaze. "You're so pretty, baby. You' got this simple beauty that just had me from day one."

Jungkook just chuckles, squeezing your waist lightly. "Ah, see? You always act all tough, but you get shy so easily."

As Jungkook turns around, you act purely on impulse. You swing your hand back and smack his own ass, meant to be playful, but the sound comes off way too loud.

Jungkook freezes. His back stiffens, his head snapping toward you with wide eyes and red cheeks. "What did you just do?"

You gasp, barely suppressing a giggle. "Oh, shit."

Without a second thought, you kick off your heels and run.

"Come here!" Jungkook shouts, already chasing after you. His voice is breathless, somewhere between a laugh and a threat.

You're giggling uncontrollably, dodging between trees, your heart pounding as you hear his footsteps thudding closer. He's fast—way too fast—and before you know it, strong arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you off the ground.

"Got you."

You squeal as he spins you slightly, nearly knocking both of you over in the process.

"Jungkook!" you gasp between laughs. "We need to go back, I left my heels and my phone—our stuff is all over the place!"

But instead of responding, he hushes you, his voice softer now. "Shh. Wait. Look."

Then, he physically turns you around, hands still firm on your waist.

Your breath catches.

In front of you, nestled deeper into the forest, is a small, untouched lake. The water reflects the moonlight, shimmering against the dark, creating a dreamlike glow. The surrounding trees cast gentle shadows across the surface, their branches swaying slightly in the night breeze.

What truly takes your breath away, though, are the flowers. Unlike the rest of the field, which was full of wildflowers and tall grass, this secluded spot is untouched—full of daisies, spreading out like a delicate, white blanket.

For a second, you almost shiver, realizing how quiet and dark it is out here. But the beauty of it outweighs everything else.

"Wow," you murmur, unable to look away.

Jungkook's arms tighten around you as he rests his chin on the top of your head, his voice soft. "I've never been here before."

You tilt your head slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah," he hums, his voice full of quiet wonder. "But it's really pretty."

You don't say anything, just lean back into him as you both take in the view. The lake, the daisies, the way the moonlight spills across everything—it's like a hidden world only the two of you have discovered. You stand there for what feels like forever, just breathing, just existing together in the quiet magic of the moment.

Then, you shift forward slightly.

And immediately yelp in pain.

"Shit—what happened?" Jungkook's hold on you disappears instantly as he moves to face you.

You groan, wobbling as you lift your foot. "I stepped on something—fuck—oh my god—"

Jungkook kneels down, his hands hovering over your ankle before he sees it—the small but nasty gash at the bottom of your foot. His jaw tightens. "You're bleeding."

You're too busy pouting to notice how concerned he looks.

Without hesitation, he sweeps you up into his arms, cradling you bridal-style.

"Jungkook—!"

He doesn't give you a choice, already jogging back toward your makeshift picnic spot. You don't even complain, too caught up in the stinging pain and the slight panic rising in your chest.

When he reaches the jacket , he kneels and sets you down gently, immediately crouching in front of you. His hands carefully lift your foot, his brows furrowing as he inspects the wound.

"Baby," he sighs, glancing up at you. "I've got plasters in the car. Let me go get them."

"No—" You shake your head quickly, gripping his wrist.

He frowns. "This will get infected if we don't—"

"Please," you cut him off, voice urgent now. Your fingers tighten around his wrist as you franticaly shake your head. "Let's just wait a little bit longer."

Jungkook stares at you for a moment, reading the desperation in your eyes. He exhales, lips pressing together like he's debating arguing with you, but then he sighs, squeezing your knee gently.

"Okay. Just a little longer."

You reach up absentmindedly, fingers toying with his ears. His earrings are out now, the small holes in his lobes visible under the moonlight. You brush your thumb over them before focusing back on the lip ring, twisting it slightly between your fingers.

"When are you taking this out?" you murmur.

Jungkook watches you, his lips parting slightly. "Tomorrow," he says, then sighs. "But, honestly? I really don't want to."

You pout. "I'll miss it." Then, after a beat, you add, "But... you know, it is kind of annoying when we kiss."

Jungkook jerks his head back, scandalized. "What?! I thought you liked it!"

You grin. "I'm joking! I do."

But you're not done.

A sudden rush of affection takes over you, and you start pressing kisses all over his face, his cheek, his temple, the corner of his mouth. You move down to his jaw, then his neck, giggling between each kiss as Jungkook groans in protest.

"Baby—" he laughs, trying to hold you back slightly, but you're relentless.

"Shhh," you hush, smothering him in more kisses.

Jungkook sighs dramatically, tilting his head back as if defeated. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

You grin against his skin. "I always do."

You suddenly get a very random idea, one so ridiculous you almost don't say it, but then you do.

"I have an idea," you say, a little shyly.

Jungkook looks at you warily, already bracing himself. "What. God, I'm scared."

You hesitate for a second before blurting, "Can I draw faces on your abs?"

He blinks. Once. Twice.

And then he bursts out laughing. "What, right now?"

You nod enthusiastically. "Yes??”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head with amusement, but still, he lifts his shirt a little, exposing his ridiculously toned stomach.

You immediately reach for your lip liner, leaning in as you begin drawing tiny little faces on each of his abs. A happy face, a sad one, a silly one, each one dumber than the last. Jungkook watches you, the occasional chuckle escaping his lips as you concentrate.

then, you pause, tilting your head. "You know, I never really counted before, but you actually have eight abs."

he smirks. "so I go to the gym every day for you not to notice?"

You roll your eyes. "I do notice. How could I not?"

He grins smugly, but before he can get another cocky remark in, you start squishing his abs lightly, pressing on the little faces you just drew. He groans but doesn't stop you, just watching you with an endeared expression.

"This should be your next tattoo," you tease, admiring your work.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "For sure."

But secretly, he's thinking... if you really asked him to, he just might.

He would. 100%.

after, time passes in such a blur that it physically hurts. Every second that ticks by feels like a stab to your chest, like you can actually feel the minutes slipping through your fingers. And as much as it hurts emotionally, your foot isn't doing any better either. The dull ache from before has turned into a pulsing pain, sharp and relentless.

Jungkook notices immediately. His gaze flickers to your foot, then back to your face, and without a word, he starts packing everything up. There's no hesitation, no protest from you, it's like you both silently agree that this is it.

He carries you back to the car, careful and gentle, setting you down in the passenger seat before reaching into the glove box. He pulls out a bandage, his movements quiet but efficient as he wraps it around your injury.

"We'll clean it properly when we get home," he murmurs, securing the wrap.

Home.

You stare at him. "We're going home?"

Jungkook exhales through his nose, not quite solemn, but something close to it. He just nods.

You don't say anything else, just watch as he hesitates before starting the car. He takes his time, gripping the wheel, almost like he doesn't want to turn the key, doesn't want to make the drive back. But then he glances at your foot again and realizes he doesn't have a choice.

The car hums to life, and the ride back is silent.

At some point, you glance at the clock. 1:00 a.m.

Your stomach drops.

Because now, there are only seven hours left.

You swear it was just yesterday that he had seven days. A whole week. But now, it's seven hours, and the weight of it crashes down on you like a tidal wave.

Your fingers twitch before reaching for his hand, gripping it tightly, desperately. Jungkook doesn't flinch. He just squeezes back, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, soothing strokes.

He doesn't need to say anything. He knows exactly what you're thinking.

And so, you drive back in silence.

When you arrive at your apartment building, you linger in the car for just a moment longer, trying to lighten the mood.

"So... what's the plan for tomorrow?" you ask, as if it's just another normal day. As if it's not the day.

Jungkook sees right through you. He knows you're just trying to drag out the moment, to stretch this car ride into something longer than it should be. But he humors you anyway.

"Well..." He exhales, eyes flickering toward the dashboard. "I have to leave at eight. I think they're picking me up from my apartment, so..." He pauses, then looks at you. "If you want, we can go to my place an hour before. I'll show you my uniform—try it on for you." He chuckles softly. "Somebody dropped it off earlier."

You nod, swallowing hard.

"Will I be able to... like, go with you? Drop you off at the place?"

Jungkook's lips press together before he shakes his head. "I dont think so..."

You nod again, this time slower, more understanding. Of course, that's something reserved for his family, his members. ppl who have been through every step of this journey with him. You wouldn't want to pry.

But still, it stings.

Jungkook squeezes your hand. "Let's go."

"Jungkook—"

He ignores you, opening the car door carrying you toward the building, but instead of heading to the elevator, he takes the stairs.

"Are you serious?" you groan, wrapping your arms around his neck. "The elevator was right there."

"What? I'm just showing off my strength," he says, playing it off with a smirk, but you know better. He's just trying to drag out time more, just like you did in the car.

You tease him about it all the way up, and he laughs, but neither of you acknowledge what this really is, one of the last walks up to your apartment together for a long time.

When you finally reach your door, you fumble with your keys, your hands slightly shaking from exhaustion, from nerves, from everything.

"Hurry up," Jungkook teases, standing behind you with a little grin.

"Don’t rush me," you huff, rolling your eyes.

and after a few more tries, you finally push the door open, stepping inside. Jungkook follows, setting you down gently on the couch. He places your heels neatly beside his boots, then walks straight into your kitchen like he owns the place.

You hear him rummaging through the cabinets. "Where do you keep your... uh, antiseptic? Disinfectant? Whatever it's called?"

You blink, watching him from the couch. "First-aid kit is under the sink."

He nods, grabbing it and walking back over to you, determined to take care of your foot before either of you can fully acknowledge the weight of the night.

———

"I can't believe it."

The tears come so suddenly, choking out of you in sharp little gasps, and even though there's already been so much crying today, this feels different—raw, desperate, like the reality is finally sinking in, finally sinking its claws into you.

"You're leaving today."

Jungkook exhales shakily, pressing his lips to your hair, his grip tightening around you. "I know," he murmurs, voice thick. "I'm sorry, I know."

But you don't stop. You can't stop.

"I can't believe it," you repeat, like saying it again will make it less real.

And then suddenly, it's like something inside you just snaps.

Your hands fist into his shirt, and before you can even process it, you're begging.

"Please, please, please—" You don't even know what you're asking for. You just need him. "Please, don't go."

Jungkook swears under his breath, voice cracking, and then he's shifting you—pulling you up, pressing you against him until you're completely draped over his body, legs folded around his waist, arms locked around his neck. He holds you like he's afraid to let go, like if he just holds tight enough, he won't have to.

He kisses your forehead first, slow and lingering.

Then your temple.

Then your cheek, your jaw, anywhere he can reach as he tries to soothe you, tries to lull you.

But you don't stop crying, don't stop pressing your face into his neck and sobbing, and the worst part ishe can't do anything.

There's nothing he can say.

Nothing that will fix this.

So he just holds you through it, rocking you slightly, letting you grip onto him like he's your only lifeline.

And then, after a long moment, he whispers, "I'll be back so fast, you won't even realize I was gone."

You sniff, lifting your head just slightly, eyes puffy, cheeks damp, and manage the softest, smallest smile through your tears.

"You better be."

Jungkook's breath catches, something breaking in his gaze, and then, he kisses you.

And it's not just any kiss. It's slow and deep, laced with everything you can't say. A long, long kiss, and then another. til neither of you can stop.

The warmth of his body is everywhere. his arms locked around you, his breath steady against your temple, your legs tangled in a way that makes it impossible to tell where you end and he begins. neither of you bothered to clean up, too exhausted, too drained, too desperate to let go of each other for even a second. he didn't even pull out, and you didn't want him to.

you fought so hard to stay awake, but sleep stole you both away in the end.

You fell asleep crying.

And so did he.

But even in sleep, you never stopped holding each other.

[moonlightwonu]

최한솔 // Chwe Hansol [Vernon] Fic Recsᡣ𐭩

I love you, cause I 포기할 수 없는 Only you 너라서 yeah~

Main Recs Masterlist

➣Part I // Part II

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“The Soulmate Service” by @dkfile

Gn!reader || Soulmate au, fluff, angst, pining || W.C: 31k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･the soulmate service has one purpose: to help those who drew the short end of the stick and ended up without a person to live their forever with. after the heart wrenching realization that the boy you’ve loved since you were thirteen isn’t the one meant for you, you put your love life in the hands of vernon chwe — which, now that you think about it, is probably a very bad idea.

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“Closer, Faster" by @saythenametotheworld

Fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, catching feelings, smut || Parts: 2 || Total W.C: 40.7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･For good reason, you have forbidden yourself to get emotionally attached to temporary people until Vernon comes walking in and wrecks you to your very core.

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“Filmbro-zoned” by @amourcheol

Fem!reader || college au, fluff, comedy, suggestive, ex!mingyu || W.C: 21.7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･self-proclaimed movie mastermind chwe vernon minds his business—whether that be avoiding the popular, problematic kids in his college to reducing customer interest in his parents' film store. his plan of isolation, however, is completely destroyed when you, a seemingly insane disney fan, slam his perfect movie taste and ask for his help to take down an evil ex.

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“What's Your Favorite Scary Movie?” by @onlymingyus

Fem!reader || 90s au, horror, smut, toxic, yandere!vernon || W.C: 30k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The summer after graduating high school is supposed to be one last hurrah before you and your friends head off to college---none of you expected it to become a horror movie.

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“Vice;Grip” by @daechwitatamic

[Series] || Afab!reader || Fuck buddies, angst, smut, fluff || Parts: 5 || Total W.C: 32k || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You both knew why you were there. You both knew what you needed out of it: just sex, just fun. The just of it failed to last. You know precisely the first time it was different, the first time it wasn’t for fun. You needed the same things as always: his mouth hot on your skin, his hands roaming, the feeling of him emptying your mind and pushing every bad feeling out like there wasn’t room for them anymore. But for the first time, you didn’t want those things for enjoyment. You wanted them as a salve. Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. 

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“Love Between The Lines” by @etherealyoungk

Gn!reader || TA!au, Strangers to lovers, calm x chaotic dynamic, fluff || W.C: 12k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･despite the initial nerves of your new gig as an english literature TA, you’re ready to tackle the new job. that’s where you meet vernon, the computer science TA, and he’s interesting to say the least. he’s all about coding and numbers while you live and breathe poetry and novels. it’s clear that you both have contrasting interests and personalities - but they say opposites attract, right?

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“By Hook or By Cross” by @kabira

Fem!reader || meet-ugly au, strangers to lovers, slowburn, fluff, angst, smut || W.C: 12.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･so you punched a guy, and now he wants you to teach him how to fight, because clearly, you know how to do it better. well, fine, you say. as long as he keeps his distance. (spoiler alert: he doesn’t.)

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“Do You Dream of Me?" by @miraclewoozi

Gn!reader || Soulmate au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, pining, suggestive || W.C: 9.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome.  or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it. 

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“Say You Love Me (I Love You)” by @viastro

Gn!reader || Best friends to lovers, slowburn, fluff, humor || W.C: 5.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･three heavy words. you’re so used to saying this to the one person that’s always been by your side, because you know that he’s your other half; platonically. these words have always held some sort of meaning whenever you say it to vernon, in hopes that maybe one day he’ll say it back to you.

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“Work Husband” by @wondernus

Gn!reader || Teacher au, fluff, romance, comedy, mutual pining || W.C: 8.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･falling for the young and flirty high school history teacher is inevitable especially when he pays for your groceries and calls himself your work husband

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“Pretty Lies” by @lonelywhalien22

Afab!reader || Band au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, smut, angsty fluff || Parts: 9 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･supporting your friend mingyu becomes way more than you ever could have bargained for when you become involved with one of his bandmates

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“Lost in Stereo” by @hannieehaee

Afab!reader || Band au, friends to enemies to lovers, pining, smut || W.C: 8.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･after kicking you out of your own band to seek success with the band on his own, vernon finds his plans falling through, all the while you'd reached success on your own. now leading your own label, vernon finds himself having to earn your forgiveness, not realizing how badly he'd hurt you years back.

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

[themellowminx]

Espresso ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

barista!shinsou x fem!reader, nsfw, light degredation, semi-public (no one sees them but the threat is there), lowercase, modern/collage au

this is verrrry self indulgent so i apologize if its a little messy

“y/n.” 

you turned to look at your manager, shinsou, his commanding voice catching you off guard. 

“yeah?” you respond, slightly concerned. shinsou was hardly ever cross with you. you’d been working under him for a few months, deciding to take a job baristaing at a local coffee shop right next to your college. hitoshi attended the same college, though he was studying in a different department so you never really crossed paths. however, that didn't stop the little butterflies from dancing around in your stomach every time you made eye contact, or he brushed against you while working. but back to the present, you were about to get scolded. 

“that skirt is too short.” curt, to the point, and causing the heat to rise in your cheeks. you floundered for a response. 

“oh, really? must have shrunk in the wash...” the bell for the drive thru went off, startling you both.

you knew the skirt was too small, that’s why you picked it, but now that your plan had worked and you'd gotten his attention, you contemplated if this was a bad idea after all. grateful for the interruption, you scurried off to the window. it was a pretty slow day, no one was in the shop at the moment.

shinsou said nothing as you fluttered around the small area, getting the orders. a chill traced up your spine, feeling his gaze on your back…then lower. 

shinsou began making the drink, swift hands pulling shots and adding syrups. in no time the drink was placed on the windowsill, turning away from the customer you went to grab it, but your ass made contact with something hard. trying to regain your composure, grabbing the drink and—not so accidentally—leaning over the window all the way, causing your skirt to ride up.

“i was going to let you off with a warning for breaking dress code, but now your teasing me as well.” hitoshi whispered in your ear, his body hidden to any passers by, thanks to the menu sign on the window. tension between you two had been going on for months now. stolen glances and lingering touches, when he’d grab your hips to move past you even though there was plenty of room. but this…this was very different from all those. he’d never been this hands on, this assertive and forward. you kept up your customer service persona, but as soon as the window was clear, embarrassment came flooding into your face. shinsou stayed in place at your back, so close you could almost feel the outline of...

“toshi–”

“you’re acting highly unprofessional right now, practically grinding against me.” 

“you’re just as bad–” god, you could hardly speak. the bell dinged again and another car drove up to the window. hitoshi lingered for one second, then the warmth of his body was gone. relief was sweet but short, because even though the man—who hopefully had no idea what had just happened–was a great distraction, his drink and pastry were done all too quickly. 

“here you go, mister, have a wonderful day!” the second the window shut again, hitoshi was in your ear and his hand was snaking up your thigh. 

“do you want me to stop?” his question surprised you, but the feelings you’d been harboring for him had gone on for so long. though this was neither the time nor the place in which you’d thought he’d be taking you, you didn't protest. In fact, you leaned farther on the counter, allowing him to take hold of your hips. 

“you do realize this is a punishment right? i expect you to look and behave properly from here on out.” before you could respond his palm was dancing along the edge of your panties, sliding one long finger over your clothed slit. stifling a jolt you pushed farther into his touch. shinsou chuckled behind you. deftly, his fingers circled your clit, arousal already dripping out of you. 

“cute panties.” he teased and gave a quick pop to your butt, which caused an involuntary sound of pleasure to escape you. clasping your hand over your mouth, you turned your head to look at him, arching your back a little. “look at that face, you’ve wanted this for so long haven't you? and to think this was all it took, a little rule breaking, a little slutty.” 

“hitoshi, I…” you weren't sure what you wanted to say, you liked him, truly. a twindge of worry shot through your head, what is someone did see. yes the thought made your heart race even more, setting fire to your veins, but that adrenaline was new still. but another—slightly harsher–pop to your ass took you out of it. 

“if you don’t like this, i can stop.” 

“no, please, keep going. i deserve to get reprimanded, right?” the last part came out more sultry than indented, lust lacing your words. hitoshi chuckled again, a deep, gruff sound which only served to make you wetter. and he could feel it. 

“shit, you wanna do this here? where anyone could walk in, and see you whoring yourself out?” 

you nodded to his degradation, bouncing on your heels, trying to make your already tiny skirt seem even shorter. hitoshi ran his hand across you, cupping your pussy again, then slid inside your panties. your clit was trapped in between his middle and pointer fingers, the friction making you squirm. the compromising position, being so vulnerable, at any second you could be caught. rubbing your breasts against the window counter, trying to relieve some of the building pressure in your body. his pace kept painfully slow, winding you up with every stroke, only for you to  plummet back down with need. 

“please,” 

“need I remind you, this is a punishment. you’ll take it.” 

“yes, sir.” oh, that title, it did things to hitoshi. he released a heavy breath, the hand leaving your waist to grab his own cock, squeezing it in hopes of relieving his own strain. the fingers that trapped your clit traveled down, the tips of them dipping into your weeping cunt. your heart raced, the thrill of being caught, the euphoria of finally being touched by him. 

“dirty girl.” was all he said before one long finger entered you. curling up inside, his pace measured as you tried to keep from whining. the drive thru bell chimed again. a gasp left you as his fingers kept pumping in and out. 

“you’ve got this.” leaning up from the counter and trying your best to remain calm, the customer's face came into view. 

“hello, wh-what can i get for you?” they said their order, and with each stuttering question you asked, hitoshi added another finger. ‘will that be hot or iced?’ two, ‘what size is that?’ three, ‘is whole milk okay?’ four. your eyes were damn near rolling back, chest rising and falling rapidly, but oh god it felt so good, so full. 

hitoshi smiled, then pulled his fingers out, leaving you to collapse against the counter. Moving quickly to hide yourself from the customers view, you felt slick run down your thighs, panties soaked. watching the man, your breathing ragged, as he washed his hands quickly, preparing the ice, pulling a shot, mixing milk and syrups, like nothing at all had happened. 

“up.” and you obeyed, taking the drink from his hands and leaning back out to hand it over to the woman, a strained, flushed smile on your cheeks. she gave you a look, the kind that said, ‘i know what you’re doing’, you should have felt mortified, but it only made you ache for hitoshi more. 

turning back around to face him, his entire, cocky self now in full view. you wanted him to finish what he’d started, to make you cum on his fingers, to keep going until the shift was over, only to go again after closing. but no, when you cast your wide, pleading eyes on him, instead of bending you over, or filling you again, he just smirked. 

“what, you didn’t think i’d let you come, did you? no no, only good girls get that.” you were at a loss for words. 

“but-” your arms reached to wrap around his neck, pressing your chest against his. he wrapped you in a loose embrace. 

“if you can follow the rules until we close, then i might let you come home with me, and give a reward.” he spoke clearly, teasingly, you wanted to slap him and kiss him until you couldn't breathe. 

“i’ll be good!” you said, perhaps a bit too quickly and eagerly. he hummed and let go of you, letting your heels touch the floor, and stalking off casually to the back. 

you checked the clock, four more hours until closing. 

[yastaghr]

DCxDP idea #3:

The police in Gotham ignore Crime Alley on principle, but the fire department and ambulance services, extremely unofficially, give them a higher priority than the wealthiest districts.

They know that the Alley hasn't been up to code since the murder of the Waynes. The rich can afford to fix their fire escapes. The Alley can't.

More people would die in the Alley during a disaster if they didn't do that; the Alley residents know that. There's a lot of people from the Alley in those jobs. The pay is crap and the hours are worse, so why not? And the Alley sticks to everyone who has lived there, so sooner or later the Alley has more than it's fair shared of decent first responders (ACAB).

It stays with them after they die, that feeling, that memory, of knowing that the man next door might be a mugger, but he's the first one of the volunteer firefighters to run into a raging fire and start pulling out people—that he went back into one just to save a girl's ESA dog.

So, when the Portal gets opened, no one in Amity even knows when the 42 ghosts from Crime Alley bolt straight home. They don't learn about them until much later.

Was the Alley surprised when the woman who died on the table at Gotham General showed up at 4 first-aid training clasd? The one who'd been delivered in time, but who'd been bumped down the list by an aide from the Diamond District until she'd been waiting for too long to survive?

Not really.

Gotham was weird—why not add ghosts to be mix? If she wanted to save lives, good for her. Just don't let her use the paddles—they short out before she can get them out of the case.

Soon enough, Crime Alley has ghosts in the firehouse. They can go through walls and fly; the mortality rate for apartment fires drops dead.

The news spreads, slowly, to the rest of the city. Crime Alley has ghosts, and the ghosts are saving lives just like the other first responders do. The Bats start working with them, and after that, well, the city knows that the ghosts are on their side.

(A few cops try to arrest them for the usual made-up charges, but handcuffs can do nothing to stop a ghost.)

(Gordon got a gift basket from three girls he'd caught the murderer of.)

It takes a while for the news to spread out of Gotham. When it does, the JLD swings by on the down low to investigate. They're more surprised than the Alley was, but hey, these are thinking, feeling people; if they want to take the graveyard shift on call, more power to them.

All this means that, by the time the Amity Park situation gets out, the Drs. Fenton and the GIW have one hell of a time gaslighting anyone into believing their anti-ghost bullshit.

Crime Alley has a shared ACAB mindset and enough testimony and evidence to kill that shit, and they aren't the only ones that those 42 ghosts have made an impact on.

Those 42 ghosts are the reason why Amity Park doesn't become the only example of what ghosts can do. Without them, things would have been much, much worse.

[winterarmyy]

Steal Me Away

Glimpses of the grumpy chubby alpha!bucky's love life.

Summary: When Bucky was stuck in an unpleasant lunch with his co-workers; he thought about how nice it would be if someone comes and steals him away.

Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Words: 2.6k++

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. no plot, just fluff. low-key body shamming, bullying, bucky and his omega being adorable. (tell me is there's anything else I missed)

P/S: Impulsive writing at 3am in the morning because I couldn't sleep, then left the draft to rot for weeks, now posted. Also tagging @serendipitouslife90 because she's the biggest fan of this au. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short fic and happy reading! 🤍

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Bucky’s cubicle, casting narrow strips of light across his cluttered desk. The office was its usual sanctuary of muted tones and hushed conversations. Colleagues navigated the aisles like cautious explorers, their brief nods to Bucky barely concealing their unease.

He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. Solitude was his comfort zone, and he relished the uninterrupted focus on his work.

Bucky tapped away at his keyboard, the rhythmic clacking serving as his meditation. His thoughts were like the lines of code he worked with; orderly, precise, and devoid of unnecessary embellishments. Socializing was a distraction he neither wanted nor needed.

The occasional murmurs of sympathy about his less-than-ideal body shape for an Alpha like him, or the prosthetic arm he wore to make up for his imperfection, had long since ceased to bother him. They were background noise in the symphony of his workday.

Two weeks had passed since Bucky had last seen y/n, their second date now a vivid but distant memory. Their time together had been cut short, both of them consumed by the relentless demands of their careers. Especially for Bucky, the high-pressure world of software engineering was unforgiving.

Ever since he was in school, he always had the knack for tech but as he grew up, his path lead away from it. Then after his abrupt release from military service, he was lost for a moment. He lost his position and quite literally his limb. After he was introduced to Stark Technologies for is prosthetic, his interest in tech bloomed once more.

Fast forward, he had transitioned to civilian life with a single-minded focus on his career. The transition from soldier to software engineer had been a challenging yet rewarding shift, one that demanded every ounce of his dedication.

His days were a blur of client meetings, coding marathons, and sleepless nights, leaving him barely enough time to recharge. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't escape the gnawing sense of guilt that tugged at him.

Y/n had been understanding, insisting that they could take things slow and that she was patient. Yet Bucky felt a pressing need to make up for the lost time, to show her that she was more important than the endless stream of work that consumed him.

His longing for her was a constant undercurrent in his daily routine, a reminder of the connection he cherished and the promises he hoped to fulfill, even amidst the chaos of his demanding schedule.

Lunchtime arrived with an uncharacteristic intrusion; Brock’s insistent presence. Bucky had settled into his usual corner of the break room, anticipating a quiet meal alone.

But Brock, with his usual smirk, plopped down across from him, completely unfazed by Bucky’s visible discomfort.

“You know, Bucky,” he started, his tone laced with false camaraderie, “maybe you should join us for lunch this time. Walk off that fat in your belly, and maybe, just maybe, might help you lose a few pounds and get that soldier body of yours again.”

The comment triggered a ripple of reactions around the break room. A few colleagues, particularly those who fancied themselves as superior alpha, snickered behind their coffee cups, enjoying the moment at Bucky’s expense. The rest of the room fell into an awkward silence; some looked away, unable or unwilling to get involved, while others exchanged nervous glances, wary of crossing the line with either of the alpha males.

Bucky’s mind raced with a mix of frustration and contemplation. Brock’s taunts were nothing new, but the timing was particularly irritating. With his packed schedule and the constant pressure of meeting deadlines, Bucky had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone deal with petty office politics.

The jabs felt like an unnecessary complication in an already strained day. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration; he wondered why he always ended up the target of Brock’s remarks and whether it was a reflection of his own choices or just Brock’s way of asserting dominance.

The palpable tension in the room only added to his mounting irritation.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his irritation simmering beneath a thin veneer of politeness. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He didn’t bother hiding the grumble in his voice. His work would have to wait, and so would his patience.

The café buzzed with conversation and clinking dishes, an atmosphere of forced cheerfulness that did little to mask the underlying tension. Bucky took his seat with a sigh, his mind already drifting to y/n, the image of her smile a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

Brock wasted no time in launching his passive-aggressive jabs, each comment about Bucky’s weight or his vibranium prosthetic arm more cutting than the last. Bucky could feel the rage bubbling up, but he forced himself to stay calm, focusing instead on the thought of y/n. The warm glow of her presence seemed to wrap around him, even in the midst of Brock’s taunts.

Brock leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Bucky, it's always something watching you eat alone. Maybe if you spent less time working and more time mingling; hit the gym with us after work or something. Who knows you might actually find yourself a date for once.”

The remark seemed casual, almost playful, but it carried a veiled sting. It wasn’t just about Bucky’s solitary lunchtime habits; it was a pointed jab at his single status, suggesting that his lack of romantic success might be due to his social ineptitude and undesirable body.

Bucky’s patience snapped. He leaned forward, his voice cold and controlled. “I don’t know, Brock. Honestly, it’s much better to be alone than to ‘mingle’ with someone who’s all bark and no bite.” He fearlessly maintained his cold gaze; eyes seemingly bore the words his lips never spoke. “…Like you”

Brock's face flushed a deep crimson, and his jaw tightened in a futile attempt to maintain composure. He muttered something about needing a smoke before hastily exiting the room, his pride stinging from the unexpected jab. The rest of the team sat in an uneasy silence, the tension almost tangible.

They watched as Bucky’s eyes bore into Brock’s retreating figure, cold and unyielding. There was something almost feral in his gaze, a silent promise of consequences that only someone with true authority and control could convey.

Everyone knew better than to provoke him further; Bucky's look was a chilling reminder that he played by his own rules.

Brock stepped out of the café, his frustration boiling over as he lit a cigarette. With each inhale of nicotine, he muttered darkly under his breath, cursing Bucky and grumbling about how that fat-ass loser like him had the audacity to undermine his clearly more superior alpha status.

His anger was a tempest, raging against the affront to his ego.

As he paced, his gaze drifted to the sidewalk next to the café, where a striking woman in a sundress was engrossed in her phone. The late afternoon sun highlighted the gentle curves of her figure, and her unblemished skin glowed softly, exposed at the back of her neck.

Brock’s eyes raked over her with a predatory appreciation, the male gaze undeniable in his scrutiny.

Her poised stance and soft demeanor hinted at an aura of femineity that intrigued him. A smirk curved his lips as he took another drag from his cigarette, already imagining how he might woo her, hoping that a little charm could be the distraction he needed from his bruised pride.

Back in the café, Bucky was still seated at the table, surrounded by the typical midday hustle, yet he remained ensconced in a bubble of tranquility. His attention was focused solely on his phone, where a soft, contented smile played on his lips. The noise of the café faded into the background as he read through y/n’s messages.

Each word from her was a thread that connected him to a part of his life that felt more real and meaningful than the relentless grind of his daily routine.

Y/n had inquired about his lunch, her questions laced with genuine curiosity. “How was your lunch?” “Was it any good?” “How’s your day been so far?” The inquiries seemed almost innocent, yet they carried a warmth that enveloped him.

And then, the message that tugged at his heartstrings: “I miss you.” It was as if her words had the power to reach through the screen and touch him directly, offering a solace that was hard to find amidst the chaos left from the prior event.

He missed her deeply.

The absence of her voice, the comfort of her presence. He wished that she could just steal him away; or perhaps he would be stealing her away?

Eitherway, he just wants to get out of here.

As he glanced at the time, noting that he still had about thirty minutes before he needed to return to the office, he made a quick decision. He would step outside for a moment, away from the unnecessary drama, and maybe give her a call.

The thought of hearing her voice, even if only for a brief conversation, was a beacon of light in his otherwise frenetic day. As Bucky stepped out of the café, his gaze remained fixed on his phone, where y/n’s last message glowed softly on the screen.

Unbeknownst to him, the scene unfolding just a few paces away was far less pleasant. Brock, still nursing his bruised ego from their earlier encounter by relentlessly flirting with the girl. “Come on, sweetheart, just one date.” Brock said, his voice low and laced with insincere flirtation.

He leaned in close, a smirk playing on his lips as his hand reached out, brushing against her exposed shoulder. Y/n recoiled slightly, her discomfort palpable. “I’m really not interested,” she said firmly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of unease. “and I have a boyfriend.”

Brock’s persistence only grew more insistent. “I doubt that. I can see you do not have his mark here,” he persisted, his hand lingering uncomfortably on her shoulder, close to where her mating mark supposed to reside. Despite her attempts to shrug off his advances, Brock didn’t relent. His touch was intrusive, and his words edged on harassment. And she can sense the scent of arousal coming from the alpha.

Y/n’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape from the unwanted attention. As her gaze fell behind Brock, she caught sight of a familiar figure; one that seemed to offer a lifeline amidst her distress.

“Bucky?” she called out, her voice tinged with both relief and surprise. The name escaped her lips before she could fully process the situation, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Bucky walking toward them.

Bucky knew that voice. It was a sound that resonated deep within him, as familiar as his own heartbeat. He lifted his eyes from his phone, and the world around him sharpened into focus. The scene before him was both infuriating and unmistakable: Brock, with his sleazy smirk and inappropriate proximity, stood uncomfortably close to Bucky's omega, his hand hovering dangerously near her exposed shoulder.

A surge of primal fury shot through Bucky, a blaze of anger that burned through his veins and coiled tight in his chest. His eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, a low, guttural growl forming in his throat as he prepared to confront the intruder. His body tensed, ready to pounce.

But before he could make a move, y/n was already in motion. She leaped into his arms with a mix of desperation and joy, catching Bucky off guard. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest.

Her arms clung tightly to his nape, her face burying itself into the crook of his neck as if seeking refuge; shamelessly scenting him. Her warm breath and soft sighs was a soothing cure to his simmering rage.

The anger that had been boiling inside him began to fizzle away, replaced by a profound sense of relief and love. The sound of her happy purrs, the feel of her soft body pressed against his, and her intoxicatingly sweet scent; all of it made his anger dissolve into a tender, protective affection.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his arms tightening around her waist as he relished in the comforting closeness. “Hi, sugar.” he whispered, his voice thick with affection and relief.

Bucky's hold loosen as he leaned down, his gentle smile never faltering as he closed the distance between them. His eyes softened with affection, and he pressed his lips against y/n's in a kiss so tender it felt like a whisper. It was a soft, loving caress that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

But before he could pull back, y/n’s playful energy erupted. She cupped his cheeks in her delicate hands, pulling him down to her level with a sudden, joyful enthusiasm.

Her lips attacked his with a flurry of kisses; quick, warm, and full of exuberance. Each kiss left behind a trace of her strawberry-scented lipstick, creating a trail of smudged rosy color across his face. The marks dotted his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and even his lips, a vibrant testament to her affection.

Amused laughter bubbled up from Bucky, the sound a rare and delightful departure from his usual stoic demeanor. His eyes twinkled with genuine mirth, his grumpy alpha persona completely melted away in the face of y/n’s loving onslaught.

He reveled in the smothering of her kisses, his initial tension and anger forgotten. A satisfied rumble vibrates on his throat, across his chest. The contrast between his earlier anger and the unrestrained joy he now experienced was stark; the shift was almost palpable.

Lost in their own world, the two seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Their display of affection was unabashedly public, a stark contrast to the earlier tension. Y/n looked up at him with bright eyes, her voice filled with eager excitement as she asked if he still had time.

“I want to steal you away.” she said with a playful smile.

Bucky’s smile widened, his heart swelling with happiness. “Of course, sugar. Anything for you.” he replied, his voice tender and filled with genuine warmth.

But as Bucky’s gaze shifted away from y/n and landed on Brock, his soft features momentarily disappeared. His expression hardened, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. The switch in his demeanor was chilling; an instant transformation from the tender lover to a menacing figure.

The coldness in his eyes was a silent, yet unmistakable warning. It was as though a dark storm cloud had settled over him, a clear signal that Brock's earlier arrogance had crossed an unforgivable line.

The intensity of Bucky’s stare spoke volumes, a silent promise of retribution and a reminder of the strength behind his calm exterior. The abrupt shift in his demeanor was a jarring contrast to the affection he had just displayed, sending a clear message to Brock that any further provocation would be met with unspeakable consequences.

As Bucky and y/n walked hand in hand away from the café, Brock stood there, fuming and humiliated. His attempt to belittle Bucky had backfired spectacularly.

Inside the café, Bucky’s colleagues had their jaws dropped. They were astonished not only by y/n’s ethereal beauty but also by the sight of Bucky, usually so composed and reserved, smiling so openly. They were completely stunned by the unexpected display of vulnerability and affection from the grumpy loner.

The couple continued down the street, their hands clasped together. The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they headed towards their next destination.

Bucky’s smile was genuine, a rare and precious sight as he looked down; memorizing the way her hand perfectly intertwined with his. At that moment, he couldn’t help but think how much he wished y/n would steal him away more often.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for staying to the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy reading it!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

There's Always a Catch

Prompt #14 - Poetic Justice | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Mild Horror Vibes, Came Back Wrong | POV: Steve | Tags: Post-Apocalyptic World, Mercenary/Smuggler Steve, Robin Is His #2, A Job is A Job, Until It Isn't, Open Ending

"They told us you're the guy to see."

Steve nods, short and curt. He doesn't want to be the guy, but it's been fated, for some fucked up reason. He's the guy, and for the right price, he'll take any job. He can be bought. Easily.

He stays quiet in the chair. Arms folded over his chest. 

Let them talk. That's the secret. They'll tell you more when you don't ask.

There are three guys, all wearing masks, and well, Steve doesn't judge. Keep yourself safe, he gets it. Doesn't matter to him who they are, what their end goal is, so long as they can pay for his services.

"We have a package. It's important. And we need it transported. Across boundaries. Several."

Steve nods once. Waiting.

There's a catch. There's always a catch.

"It's in Hawkins, Indiana," the shortest guy says, and Steve tilts his head back. 

Goddamnit.

Anywhere but there.

Hawkins, Indiana is a wasteland. Destroyed. He knows. He was there when it happened. His hometown, the epicenter of the world that was shifting into this. Going back has never been something he's been asked to do. There's never been a reason.

Robin stands, like she's his muscle. Maybe she is. She holds out her arm, dismissing them,  "Thanks, but no thanks. We're not interested."

Well, that's a lie. Steve's very interested in whatever the fuck could possibly be worth anything in Hawkins these days. There ain't shit there. Definitely nothing worth paying him to retrieve.

So, he's curious. Sue him.

They plunk three large bundles of cash down on the table. Paper bills, the kind that he hasn't seen in a long while. They're worth more than credits in the repository, because they can be used underground, untraceable. 

It's very tempting.

"Lot of money," Steve says.

"One for the crate, two to let us come with."

There it is. The catch.

It's a trunk. Like bands would have used to move their equipment. Black and silver, with heavy latches.

And it's just sitting out in the open. The hair on the back of his neck prickles, because this stands out as weird in a whole world of weird.

Steve doesn't ask questions. Doesn't much care what he's transporting. A job is a job. 

But — how did this get there? That's what he doesn't understand. Who was left in this godforsaken town to leave it? He was expecting to sift through the ruins of what was once a home, or a business. Not walk straight up to a footlocker, waiting in the middle of the road to be picked up.

It's too easy.

And that means it's gonna be extra hard.

Fuck.

He wants out of this place, and fast, so Steve and Robin load it into their cargo hold, as the three masked men watch.

Late at night, Steve hears scratching coming from it. He ignores it. Whatever it is, it's not his business. He can only fucking imagine. He doesn't think the crate is large enough to haul a demogorgon, and those have been extinct for years. 

But, what if it's Vecna?

What if it's his long, bony fingers clawing at it, biding his time.

Steve wipes his hands down his face.

What if that's exactly what this is, and he's been used to transport that motherfucker somewhere else, and this nightmare will resume, full force. 

No. No way.

He has rules, his own personal code of conduct, and he will not let that happen. He'll do a lot of things, illegal things, but that's one step too far.

He's gotten used to the world the way it is now, and god-fucking-damnit, he's not taking a step backwards. The world that was is gone, but he's not about to let it get worse.

These three surely think they've got Steve and Robin outnumbered, but Steve's no goddamn fool. His army is beneath them, stowed away, waiting. The contingency. The calvary. Cooling their heels. He goes by and knocks on each bunk door three times. Giving the code, the time.

Standing in the bay, he looks at the crate. 

If there's hell inside, he'd rather unleash it here, contained. He'd prefer the chance to prevent the rot from spreading. Hawkins already infected the world. There's no need to make it worse.

He'd rather fight, go down in a blaze of glory.

He's gonna open it.

"Don't touch that!" one of them screams, and Steve whirls around. Jonathan has him in a headlock, the other two equally restrained. Crew's all here, ready to fight. It's what they do.

If it's something that shouldn't have left that hellhole, these assholes will get what they have coming. Steve will make sure of it. If the thing they're smuggling doesn't do it first. Wouldn't that be some poetic justice?

He flips open the latches, and the panic rises, the bile climbing his throat. The smell. It's overwhelming. The Upside Down. Concentrated. A time capsule nobody wants.

He peers inside, but it's black-on-black in there. He thinks he sees a tangle of hair, matted and pulled into a knot. Fabric. Denim. His fingers reach forward, unconsciously.

Then, it moves. A head turning, red eyes flashing, fangs bared and Steve's fingers carefully unlatch the snap on his hip holster. 

The guy Jonathan has a hold of is screeching, flailing, and in the scuffle, the mask comes off. 

Steve recognizes him. Gareth. Fuck, so the other two must be Jeff and Goodie.

The panic Steve feels doubles. That means. This is. 

It can't be. 

They didn't. Couldn't have. 

He's dead. Steve saw it with his own eyes. It's been burned into his brain since.

A pale hand with long nails slides over the lip of the open case, and Steve sees the rings. Tarnished, but familiar, and Steve peers over the edge, looking down. 

Terrified, but exhilarated, every ounce of adrenaline in his body is dumping, washing over him, all at once.

The restraint to not ask questions, to wait, long gone.

"Eddie?" 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Steve's definitely got some Malcolm Reynolds vibes going here, lol.

[batboyblog]

Long story short the Treasury insisted that Musk and his DOGE staffers had "read-only" access, meaning look no touch, to systems. Wired and Talking Points Memo both independently found that was not true. A 25 year old, named Marko Elez, has admin access to the system responsible for ALL federal payments, Trillions on trillions of dollars responsible for everything, all pay outs to every federal agency, state and local government, charities and other organization, Social Security payments and Medicare reimbursements, 1/5th of the US economy.

and it appears, Elez working effectively on his own is making changes to the coding of the system, why? who knows, he won't tell the professionals who normally maintain the system.

throwing such a massive, complex, and important, cannot fail, system into the hands of one person is total madness, if an engineer at twitter fucks up and brings it down for a day, who cares? if the payment system of the US crashes.... it'll massively disrupt the lives of every single American and ruin the lives of thousands maybe tens or hundreds of thousands.

and thats before we even get into what his and Elon Musk's goals here even are, Musk has talked about putting the Treasury on a block-chain, what would that even look like? who knows, sorry grandma no Social Security this week, try a free one week trial on X?

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Defense (of the internet) (from billionaires) in depth

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

The only way to truly billionaire-proof the internet is to a) abolish billionaires and b) abolish the system that allows people to become billionaires. Short of that, any levees we build will need constant tending, reinforcement, and re-evaluation.

That's normal. No security measure (including billionaire-proofing the internet) is a "set and forget" affair. Any time you want something and someone else wants the opposite, you are stuck in an endless game of attack and defense. The measures that block your adversary today will only work until your adversary changes tactics to circumvent your defenses.

For example, mining all the links on the internet to find non-spam sites worked brilliantly for Google, because until Pagerank, there were zero reasons for spammers to get links to point to their sites. Once Google became the dominant way of finding things on the internet, spammers invented the linkfarm. This principle can be summed up as "Show me a ten-foot wall and I'll show you an eleven-foot ladder."

Security designers address this with something called "defense in depth": that's a series of overlapping defenses that are meant to correct for one another's weaknesses. Your bank might use a password, a 2FA code, and – for extremely high-stakes transactions – a series of biographical questions posed by a human customer service over a telephone line.

I've written extensively about defending a new, good internet from billionaire enshittifiers. For example, in this post, I described how Bluesky could be made enshittification-resistant with the use of "Ulysses Pacts" – self-imposed, binding restrictions on enshittification:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/02/ulysses-pact/#tie-yourself-to-a-federated-mast

A classic example of a Ulysses Pact is "throwing away the Oreos when you go on a diet." Now, it doesn't take a lot of work to devise a countermeasure your future, Oreo-craving self can take to defeat this measure: just drive to the grocery store and buy more Oreos. This even works at 2AM, provided you live within driving distance of an all-night grocer.

That doesn't mean you shouldn't throw away those Oreos. Depending on how strong your Oreo craving is, even a little friction can help you resist the temptation to ruin your diet. We often do bad things because of momentary impulses that fade quickly, and simply airgapping the connection between thought and deed works surprisingly well in many instances.

This is why places with fewer guns have fewer suicides of all kinds: there are plenty of ways to kill yourself, but none are quite so quick and reliable as a gun. People in the grips of a suicidal impulse who don't have guns have more chances to let the impulse pass (this is also why gun control leads to fewer all-cause homicides). So just because a measure is imperfect, that doesn't make it worthless.

If you're trying to give up drinking, you throw away all your booze, but you also go to meetings, and you get a sponsor who can help you out with a 2AM phone call. You might even put a breathalyzer on your car's ignition system. None of these are impossible to defeat (you can get an Uber to the liquor store, after all), but they all create friction between the thing you want, and the thing your adversary (your addiction) is trying to get. They strengthen the hand of you as defender of the sober status quo, against the attacker who wants you to relapse.

Critically, all these defensive measures also buy you space and time that you can use to organize and deploy more defenses. Maybe the long Uber ride to the liquor store gives you enough time to think about your actions so you call your sponsor from the parking lot. Defense is useful even when it only slows your adversary, rather than stopping your adversary in their tracks.

Scaling up from personal defense to societal-scale security considerations, it's useful to think of this as a battle with four fronts: code (what is technically im/possible?), law (what is il/legal?), norms (what is socially un/acceptable?) and markets (what is un/profitable?). This framework was first raised a quarter-century ago, in Larry Lessig's Code and Other Laws of Cyberspace:

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Code_And_Other_Laws_of_Cyberspace_Version_2_0.pdf

Lessig laid out these four forces as four angles of attack that challengers to the status quo should plan their strategy around. If you want to liberalize copyright, you can try norms (the "Free Mickey" campaign), laws (the Eldred v. Ashcroft Supreme Court case), code (machine-readable Creative Commons licenses) and markets (open access/free software businesses). Each one of these helps the other – for example, if lots of people believe in copyright reform (norms), more of them will back a Humble Bundle for open access materials (markets), and more lawmakers will be interested in changing copyright statutes (law), and more hackers will see reason to do cool things with CC licenses, like search engines (code).

But the four forces aren't just for attackers seeking to disrupt the status quo – they're just as important for defenders looking to create and sustain a new status quo. Figuring out how to "lock a system open" is very different from figuring out how to "force a system open." But they're both campaigns waged with code, law, norms and markets.

We're living through a key moment in enshittification history. Millions of people have become dissatisfied with legacy social media companies run by despicable, fascism-friendly billionaires like Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg and are ready to leave, despite the costs (losing contact with friends who stay behind). While many of them are moving to group chats and private Discord servers,tens of millions have moved to new social media platforms that advertise (though they don't necessarily deliver) decentralization: Mastodon (and the fediverse) and Bluesky (and the atmosphere).

Decentralization is itself a defensive countermeasure (code). When a service has diffuse power, it's harder for any one person to take it over. Federation adds another defensive layer, because users who don't like the way one server is run can move to another server, with varying degrees of data- and identity-portability. That makes it harder for server owners to squeeze users to make money (markets), and gives them an out if server owners try it anyway.

Federation with decentralization is my favorite anti-enshittification defense. It's powerful as hell. It's the main reason I endorse Free Our Feeds, an effort to (among other things) build more Bluesky servers to decrease the centralization and give users dissatisfied with Bluesky management an alternative:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/20/capitalist-unrealism/#praxis

That said, decentralization and federation are not perfect, set-and-forget defenses. Take email – the oldest, most successful federated system of them all. Email is nominally decentralized, but most email traffic goes through a handful of extremely large servers run by a cartel of companies (Google, Apple, Microsoft, and a few ISPs). These companies collude (or, more charitably, coordinate) to block email from non-cartel companies, in the name of fighting spam. This makes running your own mail server so hard that it is nearly impossible (that is, if you care about people actually receiving the email you send them):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/

What's interesting about enshittified email is that it didn't start with corporate takeover: it started with volunteer-maintained blocklists of untrustworthy servers that most email operators subscribed to, defederating from any server that appeared on the list. These blocklists of bad servers were opaque (often, their maintainers would operate anonymously, citing the threat of retaliation from criminal scammers whose servers appeared on the list). They had little or no appeal process, and few or no objective criteria for inclusion (you could be blocklisted for how your email server was configured, even if no one was using it to send spam). All of this set up the conditions to favor large email servers, and also had the effect of immunizing these large servers from appearing on blocklists. I mean, once three quarters of the internet is on Gmail, no one is going to block email from Gmail, even if a ton of spam is sent using its servers.

The lesson of email doesn't mean email is bad, nor does it mean decentralization and federation are useless. It doesn't even mean that blocklists of bad servers are evil. It just means that federation and decentralization are imperfect and insufficient defenses against enshittification, and that blocklists are useful, but very dangerous. It means that we should strive to keep our systems federated and decentralized, and watch our blocklists very carefully, and not rely on any of this as the only defense against enshittification.

Likewise, both Mastodon and Bluesky are built on free/open code and standards. That means that anyone can fork them, fix them or mod them. What's more, the licenses involved are irrevocable, making them very effective Ulysses Pacts. No one – not a CEO, not a VC investor, not a court or a blackmailer – can order someone to make their GPL code proprietary. The license is perpetual and irrevocable, and that's that.

Free/open licenses are excellent Ulysses Pacts and great code-related defenses against enshittification, but they, too, are imperfect and insufficient. Google, Facebook, Amazon, Apple and Microsoft have all figured out how to enshittify services that are built on free/open code:

https://mako.cc/copyrighteous/libreplanet-2018-keynote

And then there are all the companies that use free/open code and defeat the freedom and openness by simply violating the license, on the grounds that a decentralized, federated development community can't figure out who has standing to sue, and also can't afford to pay for the lawyers to do so:

https://sfconservancy.org/news/2022/may/16/vizio-remand-win/

That's not to say that code-based antienshittification measures are pointless – only to say that they need other measures to backstop them, as defense in depth. Let's talk about law, then. Both Mastodon and Bluesky are governed by legal entities that are, nominally, organized by charters that oblige them to eschew enshittification and be responsive to their users (Bluesky is a B-corp, Mastodon's code is overseen by a US nonprofit).

These structures are very important. I've been a volunteer board member for several co-ops and nonprofits (I was even once a volunteer for a nonprofit co-op!) and I'm familiar with the role that good governance can play in defending a project from internal and external pressures to betray its mission. That means I'm also familiar with the limits of these governance measures.

Take nonprofits: nominally, nonprofits are legally bound to serve their charitable purpose, and technically, stakeholders have legal recourse if they stray from this. But you don't have to look far to find nonprofits that have violated their charter and gotten away with it. Take the Nature Conservancy, which has become a key player in the market for fake "carbon offsets" that are used to justify everything from fossil fuel extraction to SUV manufacture:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/12/fairy-use-tale/#greenwashing

Or think of ISOC, who get tens of millions of dollars in free money every year from their stewardship of the .ORG registry, but who decided to hand over control of the nonprofits' TLD of choice to a shadowy cabal of hedge-fund billionaires:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/12/how-we-saved-org-2020-review

Co-ops, too, are powerful but wildly imperfect. REI is a member co-op that does lots of great things…and also busts unions:

https://prismreports.org/2024/07/17/rei-workers-unionizing-fighting-for-agreemment/

But REI is a paragon of social virtue compared to its Canadian equivalent, Mountain Equipment Coop, whose board was taken over by corrupt assholes who then sold the whole thing to a US private equity fund and change the name to "MEC":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/16/spike-lee-joint/#casse-le-mec

B-corps are far from perfect, too: while they are nominally required to serve a positive social purpose, in practice, they can violate that purpose with impunity, whether that through greenwashing:

https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20240202-has-b-corp-certification-turned-into-corporate-greenwashing

Or Kickstarter insiders taking a $100m bribe to help Andreesen-Horowitz do a crypto pump-and-dump:

https://fortune.com/crypto/2024/03/11/kickstarter-blockchain-a16z-crypto-secret-investment-chris-dixon/

None of this is to claim that B-corps, co-ops, and nonprofits are useless. Maybe we should just give up on organization altogether and have some kind of adhocracy? If you're thinking this will help, then you need to read Jo Freeman's "The Tyranny of Structurelessness" and learn how a "leaderless" group is actually led by its least scrupulous, most Machiavellian schemers:

https://www.jofreeman.com/joreen/tyranny.htm

At this point, you might be mentally designing a new corporate structure, one that's designed to correct for both the tyranny of structurelessness and the brittleness of co-ops, nonprofits and B-corps. Please don't do this. Rolling your own corporate structure is like rolling your own cryptography or your own free software license. It always ends in tears:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/artificial-intelligence/openai-remove-non-profit-control-give-sam-altman-equity-sources-say-2024-09-25/

I like co-ops, nonprofits and B-corps. They're powerful – but insufficient – weapons against enshittification. They need to be backstopped by other measures, like norms. Normative measures are very powerful! Of course, mass revolts of angry users don't always keep companies from enshittifying:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/dec/30/reddit-moderator-protest-communities-social-media

But sometimes they do. The C-suite of Unity was shown the door after enshittifying their flagship product:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/10/10/23911338/unity-ceo-steps-down-developers-react

As was the enshittifying CEO of Sonos:

https://www.theverge.com/2025/1/13/24342179/sonos-ceo-patrick-spence-resignation-reason-app

And of course, these defensive measures reinforce one another. The public outcry against the .ORG selloff (norms) led to California's Attorney General stepping in (law), and after that, we more-or-less romped to victory:

https://www.theregister.com/2020/04/17/icann_california_org_sale_delay/

Markets are the final antienshittificatory force. If a social network is designed to be surveillance-resistant, it will be (very) hard to implement behavioral surveillance advertising. If a network is designed to support a many clients, it will be easy to implement an ad-blocker. Both factors make advertising-based businesses very unattractive to individual server operators, spammers, and VCs who back companies that operate elements of a federated server.

Same goes for systems that allow users to control the recommendations and other algorithmic aspects of their feeds (including switching these off altogether). The fact that Tiktok's users overwhelmingly use an algorithmic feed that they have no way to control or even understand is an anti-Ulysses Pact, an irresistible temptation for Tiktok to enshittify itself:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

By contrast, it's much harder to pull those shenanigans with services that technologically devolve control over recommendations (code), making it less profitable to even try to attempt this (markets). And of course, if users refuse to tolerate this kind of thing (norms) and can hop to other servers (code), then any system that pulls that nonsense will lose lots of users and go broke (markets).

This defense-in-depth approach to decentralized social media pushes us to analyze both Mastodon and Bluesky through a tactical lens – to identify the weak parts in the defenses of each and shore them up.

Take Free Our Feeds and its attempt to stand up more Bluesky servers. This addresses one of the serious technical deficiencies in Bluesky (the lack of federation), and if lots of Bluesky users try it out, it will normalize the idea that Bluesky is a constellation of independently managed servers (norms). It also creates Bluesky alternatives with radically different commercial imperatives (markets), because the main Bluesky server is backed by venture capitalists, who are notorious for their enshittifying impulses.

But security isn't static – a tactic that works today won't work tomorrow if your adversary can figure out a way around it. Bluesky is a B-corp with an excellent board with some names I have profound trust for, but B-corps can abandon their public benefit purpose, and boards can be fired (and also even people you trust can talk themselves into doing stupid and wicked things, see .ORG).

If millions of Bluesky users flock to a rival service, one run by a nonprofit (markets), Bluesky's investors might be tempted to sever the link between Bluesky and that new server (code). That's what Facebook and Apple did to XMPP, an interoperable, federated messaging system that used to connect Apple users, Facebook users, and users of many other servers. They did this for commercial reasons (markets), to trap and lock in their users (code), and they got away with it because not enough users were outraged by this (norms) that they could get away with it.

When Bluesky's VCs fire the CEO, kick people like Mike Masnick off its board, and then defederate from Free Our Feeds' server, how do we make that more like Sonos or Unity (where the corporation capitulated to its users), and not like Reddit (where the user revolt was crushed)?

With social media, it's a numbers game. Social media grows by network effects: the more users there are in a system, the more valuable it is. It's not merely imperative to create alternative Bluesky servers, it's imperative to make them populous enough that cutting them off from the first Bluesky server will inflict more pain on the company than it inflicts on those other users. That's not a guarantee that Bluesky's future, enshittification-bent management won't go ahead and do it anyway, but it does increase the chances that if they press on, their users will take the hit to defect to free/open servers.

Bluesky has other problems besides its centralization, of course. The reason Bluesky is so centralized is that it's really expensive to run an alternative Bluesky server that provides a home for users who have left the main server (a "relay" in Bluesky-ese). Partly this is down to tooling: because no one has done it, Free Our Feeds will have to invent a lot of stuff to get that server up and running, but people who come later will benefit from whatever Free Our Feeds develops along the way.

But mostly, this isn't a tooling problem – it's an architecture problem. The way that Bluesky is structured demands a lot more of relays than Mastodon demands of "instances" (a loose Fediverse analog to relays):

https://www.techdirt.com/2025/01/21/the-technological-poison-pill-how-atprotocol-encourages-competition-resists-evil-billionaires-lock-in-enshittification/#comment-4253477

This is a code problem, and it's a hard one, but it's not insurmountable. The history of networked tools is the history of developers figuring out how to break apart large, monolithic, expensive services in cheaper, smaller, easier to develop. In other words, our defense in depth of Bluesky militates for more than one project – not just a "Free Our Feeds" but also a software development project to make it easier for anyone to free those feeds.

Which raises some important questions, the biggest being "Why bother?" After all, there's already a perfectly good Fediverse that could sure use the money and effort that Free Our Feeds is proposing to put into Bluesky. My main answer here is that the point of disenshittification is an enshittification-free internet, not a better Mastodon:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/20/capitalist-unrealism/#praxis

We want to set Bluesky users free because the problem with Bluesky isn't its users, it's the fact that there's no fire-exits those users can avail themselves of if Bluesky's VCs set it on fire:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/14/fire-exits/#graceful-failure-modes

But there's another good reason to do this, one that involves people who have no interest in using Bluesky: even if you don't want to use a better Bluesky, you likely have very good reasons to reach Bluesky users. Maybe you want them to help you organize against enshittification! Or maybe you just want to operate a real-world venue where people can gather and have a great time and support performers, and right now you're stuck advertising on Facebook and Instagram, and you don't want to end up being forced to use an enshittified, fire-exit-free Bluesky in the future:

https://www.dnalounge.com/backstage/log/2025/01/13.html

Of course, there's plenty of reasons to want to make Mastodon better. Many of Mastodon's features are absurdly primitive – the lack of threading support and quote-boosting sucks, and the supposedly opt-in system-wide search doesn't work, even if you opt in. Masto could sure use some of the money that Free Our Feeds is asking for to spruce up Bluesky.

This is true, but also irrelevant. Mastodon is stuck at around a million active users, while Bluesky has twenty times that amount. Crowdfunding a couple dollars per user to pursue software development is a reasonable goal, but raising twenty times that much is a lot harder:

https://mastodon-analytics.com/

The money being raised for Free Our Feeds isn't money that had been earmarked for Mastodon development, nor will abandoning Free Our Feeds redirect those funds to Mastodon development.

Which isn't to say that we shouldn't chip in to fund Mastodon development. I donated to the Kickstarter for Pixelfed, a Fediverse Insta replacement that has Meta so scared that they'll suspend your account if you even mention it:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/pixelfed/pixelfed-foundation-2024-real-ethical-social-networks

Adding Insta-like features to Mastodon is great. Fixing search, quoting, and threading would be great, too. We probably need some kind of governance efforts to keep volunteer-run, good faith defederation blocklists from exhibiting the same dynamics that email went through during the spam wars. There's some Bluesky features I'd love to see on Mastodon, like composable moderation and user-controlled, user-tunable recommendations. We also probably need some kind of adversarial press that closely monitors the governance structure for the Mastodon codebase and reports on process in standardization (I cannot overstate how much fuckery can take place within standards bodies, under cover of a nigh-impermeable shield of boringness).

Breaking Bluesky open is a priority. Keeping Mastodon open is a priority. But neither of these are goals unto themselves. The point is to set people free, not set technology free. Willie Sutton robbed banks because "that's where the money is." Right now, I'm interested in anti-enshittification measures for Bluesky because "that's where the people are."

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/23/defense-in-depth/#self-marginalization

Image: Mike Baird (modified) https://flickr.com/photos/mikebaird/2354116406

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[astroeleanor]

˚ ༘🪞✨Ultimate Astrology Guide to *GLOW UP* in 2025 + The Blessings You Will Receive✨🪞˚ ༘

2025 is shaping up to be a stellar year for growth and receiving blessings. Why? Because the planet of expansion and abundance, Jupiter, is playing a leading role in activating your birth chart. Jupiter, the planet of luck, wisdom, and glow-ups, will be making *waves* as it moves through Gemini in the first half of the year (From January 1st until June 8th 2025) and into its exalted home of Cancer in the second half (From June 9th 2025 through December 2025).

Today I will help you understand how Jupiter’s journey will supercharge your personal glow-up in 2025! Each Rising Sign will see two of their houses being activated in 2025, which means you will receive blessings in two areas of your life. So, make sure to look for both sections for your Rising Sign in this post. Are you ready to dive in?

1H (GEMINI & CANCER RISING): A glow of confidence and optimism, feeling revitalized and energized, major life shifts, being recognized as a source of comfort and inspiration, new lifestyle choices, magnetizing relationships and opportunities with ease, a major life chapter begins, personal growth, radiance, stronger sense of identity and emotional empowerment.

2H (TAURUS & GEMINI RISING): Expanding your income, attracting wealth, cultivating gratitude for abundance, long-term financial security through smart investments or savings, discovering hidden talents that enhance your earning power, unexpected financial windfalls, financial growth, expansion of material possessions or luxuries.

3H (ARIES & TAURUS RISING): Growth in skills such as writing or speaking, profitable ventures through local businesses, strengthened relationships with siblings/cousins/neighbors/people in your ZIP code, a busy and rewarding schedule of short trips or community events, receiving recognition for sharing ideas or educational content, mentors or teachers who open doors, enhanced communication skills and persuasive abilities, success in teaching endeavors.

4H (PISCES & ARIES RISING): Opportunities to invest in or expand real estate holdings, emotional closeness with parents, healing generational trauma, creating your dream home environment, welcoming new family members (the birth of a child), stability and security, a sense of belonging, opportunities to purchase or upgrade property, ancestral blessings, home renovation, relocating.

5H (AQUARIUS & PISCES RISING): A creative renaissance, success in artistic projects, romantic opportunities that feel emotionally fulfilling, blessings related to children or parenting roles, getting pregnant, rediscovering hobbies or activities that bring you joy, being recognized for your talents, healing your inner child.

6H (CAPRICORN & AQUARIUS RISING): Better work-life balance, a surge in productivity, improved daily routines, leadership opportunities in health or service-related industries, gaining recognition for your contributions, health improvements through lifestyle changes, stronger connection with pets, emotional fulfillment through acts of service, workplace dynamics improve, receiving blessings through helping others.

7H (SAGITTARIUS & CAPRICORN RISING): Meeting a soulmate or significant long-term partner, business collaborations that bring financial stability, increased harmony in your relationships, resolving conflicts, legal settlements work in your favor, resolving disputes, expansion and blessings in partnerships, opportunities for marriage, growth through collaborations, favorable outcomes in negotiations, meeting influential or supportive people.

8H (SCORPIO & SAGITTARIUS RISING): Emotional healing, investments and joint projects bring success, positive personal transformation, personal empowerment, strengthened intimacy and trust in your relationships, your psychic abilities growing significantly, resolving karmic debts tied to finances or emotional entanglements, financial windfalls, receiving inheritances, beneficial psychological transformation.

9H (LIBRA & SCORPIO RISING): Life-changing travel experiences, academic success, finding your sense of purpose, gaining wisdom through spiritual practices, favorable legal resolutions, publishing or sharing knowledge with a wider audience, encounters abroad lead to lasting connections, opportunities for long-distance travel, more faith and optimism, success in publishing or teaching.

10H (VIRGO & LIBRA RISING): Professional breakthroughs, leadership opportunities, receiving recognition and rewards in your career, improved relationships with bosses or authority figures, achieving balance between ambition and personal values, public acclaim, guidance from mentors propel your success, career advancement, increased visibility and influence.

11H (LEO & VIRGO RISING): Expanding your influence within social or professional circles, dreams manifesting effortlessly, earning collaborations, accolades from peers and mentors, meeting influential friends, getting access to rooms you couldn't enter before, access to exclusive networks, manifesting a long-held dream, financial blessings through social connections.

12H (CANCER & LEO RISING): Freedom from emotional burdens or self-sabotaging habits, solitude that recharges your soul, hidden sources of wealth or financial relief from unexpected places, protection from unseen challenges, divine intervention, old karmic debts dissolve, peace and closure, spiritual growth, stronger connection to your intuition.

(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚v✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

These are the blessings waiting for you in 2025. If you would like to significantly increase your chances of experiencing the positive manifestations of Jupiter, I create a free video detailing the best strategies to obtain them.

This is your *fail-proof* guide to GLOW UP in 2025! There are a ton of practical tips covering how to reinvent yourself this year using your Rising Sign.

I explore this topic in-depth on Youtube. If you're excited to own TF out of 2025, here's the guide!

(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚v✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Your curiosity & engagement mean the world to me. I hope you not only found it enjoyable but also enriching for your astrological knowledge. Your support & interest inspire me to continue sharing insights & information with you. I appreciate you immensely.

• 🕸️ JOIN MY PATREON for exquisite & in-depth astrology content. You'll also receive a free mini reading upon joining. :)

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